Life and Letters of Thomas Henry Huxley Volume III Part 21

Several letters of miscellaneous interest were written before the move to the Engadine took place. They touch on such points as the excessive growth of scientific clubs, the use of alcohol for brain workers, advice to one who was not likely to "suffer fools gladly" about applying for the a.s.sistant secretarys.h.i.+p of the British a.s.sociation, and the question of the effects of the destruction of immature fish, besides personal matters.]

3 Jevington Gardens, Eastbourne, March 22, 1889.

My dear Hooker,

I suppose the question of amalgamation with the Royal is to be discussed at the Phil. Club. The sooner something of the kind takes place the better. There is really no raison d'etre left for the Phil.

Club, and considering the hard work of scientific men in these days, clubs are like hypotheses, not to be multiplied beyond necessity.

Ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

4 Marlborough Place, March 26, 1889.

My dear Hooker,

The only science to which X. has contributed, so far as I know, is the science of self-advertis.e.m.e.nt; and of that he is a master.

When you and I were youngsters, we thought it the great thing to exorcise the aristocratic flunkeyism which reigned in the Royal Society--the danger now is that of the entry of seven devils worse than the first, in the shape of rich engineers, chemical traders, and "experts" (who have sold their souls for a good price), and who find it helps them to appear to the public as if they were men of science.

If the Phil Club had kept pure, it might have acted as a check upon the intrusion of the mere trading element. But there seems to be no reason now against Jack and Tom and Harry getting in, and the thing has become an imposture.

So I go with you for extinction, before we begin to drag in the mud.

I wish I could take some more active part in what is going on. I am anxious about the Society altogether. But though I am wonderfully well so long as I live like a hermit, and get out into the air of the Downs, either London, or bother, and still more both combined, intimate respectfully but firmly, that my margin is of the narrowest.

Ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

[The following is to his daughter in Paris. Of course it was the Tuileries, not the Louvre, which was destroyed in 1871.]

I think you are quite right about French women. They are like French dishes, uncommonly well cooked and sent up, but what the d.i.c.kens they are made of is a mystery. Not but what all womenkind are mysteries, but there are mysteries of G.o.dliness and mysteries of iniquity.

Have you been to see the sculptures in the Louvre?--dear me, I forgot the Louvre's fate. I wonder where the sculpture is? I used to think it the best thing in the way of art in Paris. There was a youthful Bacchus who was the main support of my thesis as to the greater beauty of the male figure!

Probably I had better conclude.

To Mr. E.T. Collings (of Bolton).

4 Marlborough Place, April 9, 1889.

Dear Sir,

I understand that you ask me what I think about "alcohol as a stimulant to the brain in mental work"?

Speaking for myself (and perhaps I may add for persons of my temperament), I can say, without hesitation, that I would just as soon take a dose of a.r.s.enic as I would of alcohol, under such circ.u.mstances.

Indeed on the whole, I should think the a.r.s.enic safer, less likely to lead to physical and moral degradation. It would be better to die outright than to be alcoholised before death.

If a man cannot do brain work without stimulants of any kind, he had better turn to hand work--it is an indication on Nature's part that she did not mean him to be a head worker.

The circ.u.mstances of my life have led me to experience all sorts of conditions in regard to alcohol, from total abstinence to nearly the other end of the scale, and my clear conviction is the less the better, though I by no means feel called upon to forgo the comforting and cheering effect of a little.

But for no conceivable consideration would I use it to whip up a tired or sluggish brain. Indeed, for me there is no working time so good as between breakfast and lunch, when there is not a trace of alcohol in my composition.

4 Marlborough Place, May 6, 1889.

My dear Hooker,

I meant to have turned up at the x on Thursday, but I was unwell and, moreover, worried and bothered about Collier's illness at Venice, and awaiting an answer to a telegram I sent there. He has contrived to get scarlatina, but I hope he will get safe through it, as he seems to be going on well. We were getting ready to go out until we were rea.s.sured on that point.

I thought I would go to the Academy dinner on Sat.u.r.day, and that if I did not eat and drink and came away early, I might venture.

It was pleasant enough to have a glimpse of the world, the flesh (on the walls, nude!), and the devil (there were several Bishops), but oh, dear! how done I was yesterday.

However, we are off to Eastbourne to-day, and I hope to wash three weeks' London out of me before long. I think we shall go to Maloja again early in June.

Ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

Capital portrait in the New Gallery, where I looked in for a quarter of an hour on Sat.u.r.day--only you never were quite so fat in the cheeks, and I don't believe you have got such a splendid fur-coat!

3 Jevington Gardens, Eastbourne, May 22, 1889.

...As to the a.s.sistant Secretarys.h.i.+p of the British a.s.sociation, I have turned it over a great deal in my mind since your letter reached me, and I really cannot convince myself that you would suit it or it would suit you. I have not heard who are candidates or anything about it, and I am not going to take any part in the election. But looking at the thing solely from the point of view of your interests, I should strongly advise you against taking it, even if it were offered.

My pet aphorism "suffer fools gladly" should be the guide of the a.s.sistant Secretary, who, during the fortnight of his activity, has more little vanities and rivalries to smooth over and conciliate than other people meet with in a lifetime. Now you do NOT "suffer fools gladly" on the contrary, you "gladly make fools suffer." I do not say you are wrong--No tu quoque [Cf. above. But for due cause he could suffer them "with a difference"; of a certain caller he writes: "What an effusive bore he is! But I believe he was very kind to poor Clifford, and restrained my unregenerate impatience of that kind of creature."]--but that is where the danger of the explosion lies--not in regard to the larger business of the a.s.sociation.

The risk is great and the 300 pounds a year is not worth it. Foster knows all about the place; ask him if I am not right.

Many thanks for the suggestion about Spirula. But the matter is in a state in which no one can be of any use but myself. At present I am at the end of my tether and I mean to be off to the Engadine a fortnight hence--most likely not to return before October.

Not even the sweet voice of -- will lure me from my retirement. The Academy dinner knocked me up for three days, though I drank no wine, ate very little, and vanished after the Prince of Wales' speech. The truth is I have very little margin of strength to go upon even now, though I am marvellously better than I was.

I am very glad that you see the importance of doing battle with the clericals. I am astounded at the narrowness of view of many of our colleagues on this point. They shut their eyes to the obstacles which clericalism raises in every direction against scientific ways of thinking, which are even more important than scientific discoveries.

I desire that the next generation may be less fettered by the gross and stupid superst.i.tions of orthodoxy than mine has been. And I shall be well satisfied if I can succeed to however small an extent in bringing about that result.

I am, yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

4 Marlborough Place, May 25, 1889.

My dear Lankester,

I cannot attend the Council meeting on the 29th. I have a meeting of the Trustees of the British Museum to-day, and to be examined by a Committee on Monday, and as the sudden heat half kills me I shall be fit for nothing but to slink off to Eastbourne again.