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  GEORGE JOHN ROMANES




  [Illustration: Frontispiece, signed:

  Yours ever the same,
  G. J. Romanes]




  THE
  LIFE AND LETTERS
  OF
  GEORGE JOHN ROMANES
  M.A., LL.D., F.R.S.

  WRITTEN AND EDITED BY HIS WIFE

  SECOND EDITION

  LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
  LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
  1896

  _All rights reserved_




  LIBERIS NOSTRIS
  RECORDATIO
  PATRIS DESIDERATISSIMI

  MEMORIA JUSTI CUM LAUDIBUS




  PREFACE
  TO
  THE SECOND EDITION


In sending out this Second Edition of my husband's Life, I cannot but
acknowledge the extreme kindness with which it has been received.
But I think it is also due to his memory to say a word in view of
various statements that have been made in America and elsewhere, to
the effect that his mental vigour and powers were impaired before his
death. These statements are absolutely untrue.

I can best refute them by calling attention to the obituary notice
written by Professor Burdon Sanderson for the Royal Society.

In this paper it is said: 'Up to the end he [Romanes] preserved not
only his mental vigour, but the keenness of his interest in his
scientific pursuits.'

This, I think, needs no additional comment from me.

  E. R.

  OXFORD: _March 1896_.




PREFACE


In writing my husband's life I have tried, so far as it was possible,
to let him, especially in matters scientific, speak for himself.

For the purpose of his biographer it is unfortunate that my husband
lived in almost daily intercourse for parts of many years with more
than one of his most intimate friends. Hence there are no letters
to several people with whom he was in the habit of discussing
scientific, philosophic, and theological questions.

The letters relating to his work will, I hope, interest any one who
cares for biological science. Whatever may be the exact place which
shall be assigned to him, by those who come after, in the great army
of workers for Science, this much may be said: that no one ever
served in the cause of Science with more passionate and whole-hearted
devotion, more entire disinterestedness--

    _All for Love, and nothing for Reward._

I have to acknowledge the kindness of many who have put letters
at my disposal. I cannot sufficiently express my thanks to Mr.
Francis Darwin for generously allowing me to print portions of the
correspondence which for seven or eight years was one of the chief
pleasures and privileges of my husband's life. I must also thank
my brother and sister-in-law, the Dean of Christ Church, Professor
Poulton, Professor Schäfer, Professor Le Conte, Mr. Thiselton-Dyer,
and others for like permission.

And I must express my most sincere gratitude to the Rev. P. N.
Waggett, to Professor C. Lloyd Morgan, and to my cousin Mrs. St.
George Reid (late of Newnham College, Cambridge), for their constant
help and advice.

To Mrs. Reid I owe more than I can well express. Her scientific
knowledge and ability have been simply invaluable, and have been used
with ever-ready and ungrudging generosity and kindness.

There are other aspects of my husband's life which are interesting,
but again I think he has told his own story, and it is needless for
me here to speak of what, to some extent, he has laid bare--of mental
perplexity and of steadfast endurance and loyalty to Truth. It may be
that others, wandering in the twilight of this 'dimly lighted world,'
may be stimulated and encouraged and helped to go on in patience
until on them also dawns that Light. If this be so it will not be
altogether in vain that he bore long years of very real and very
heavy sorrow.

  E. R.

  OXFORD: 1895.




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                         PAGE

  I.   BOYHOOD--YOUTH--EARLY MANHOOD, 1848-1878      1

  II.  LONDON, 1879-1890                            89

  III. LONDON--GEANIES, 1881-1890                  136

  IV.  OXFORD, 1890-1894                           248

       INDEX                                       358




ILLUSTRATIONS


  PORTRAIT OF MR. ROMANES               _Frontispiece_

  GEANIES, ROSS-SHIRE                _To face p._  146

  94 ST. ALDATE'S                           "      256




GEORGE JOHN ROMANES




CHAPTER I

_BOYHOOD--YOUTH--EARLY MANHOOD_


BOYHOOD. 1848-1867

George John Romanes was born at Kingston, Canada, on May 20, 1848,
the third son of the Rev. George Romanes, D.D., then Professor of
Greek in the University of that place.

The Professor had come out to Canada some years previously, and,
after a short experience of work in country parishes, had settled
down to teach Greek to the _alumni_ of the little University.

Dr. Romanes was descended from an old Scottish family settled since
1586 in Berwickshire: he had been educated at the High School and
University of Edinburgh, and was an excellent classic and learned
theologian, with views of a strictly 'Moderate' type. From him his
distinguished son inherited the sweetness of temper and calmness of
manner which characterised George John Romanes through life, and
which earned for him amongst his friends the playful sobriquet of
'The Philosopher.'

Dr. Romanes married, after his arrival in Canada, Miss Isabella Gair
Smith, daughter of the Rev. Robert Smith, for many years parish
minister of Cromarty. Mrs. Romanes was connected with several
old Highland families, and was a thorough Highlander. Handsome,
vivacious, unconventional, and clever, she was in all respects a
great contrast to her husband, who, as years went on, seems to have
lived mainly the life of a student, and to have left the care of
mundane things to his wife. Three sons and two daughters were born.
Of these, only two, the eldest son and youngest daughter, now survive.

In 1848, the inheritance of a considerable fortune relieved Dr.
Romanes from any necessity to continue the duties of his chair, and
the family returned home, wandering about for a few years and finally
settling in 18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park. There was a good deal
of continental travel during these first years after their return,
and as he grew into boyhood George Romanes spent several months at
various times in Heidelberg and other German towns, and the family
performed a journey from Nice to Florence in a delightful and now
bygone fashion, travelling with a vetturino.

Probably the beauty of the scenery, the fascination of travel, and
the charm of the beautiful surroundings exercised an unconscious
influence over the boy, and did something to rouse the poetic
sense which was to be so great an element in his life. Otherwise
there seems to have been little or no sense of pleasure in the art
treasures or the historic associations of Italy, and at no time of
his life did he ever care for pictures in anything like the same
degree as he loved poetry or music.

After the family settled in London, George Romanes was sent to a
preparatory school near his own home. Two of his schoolfellows became
in after life intimate friends. These were Francis Paget, the present
Dean of Christ Church, and his brother, Henry Luke Paget, now Vicar
of St. Pancras, London.

An attack of measles put a stop once and for all to his preparatory
school career, and the idea of a public school was never entertained.

He was educated in a desultory and aimless fashion at home, and was
regarded by his family as a shocking dunce. Parts of two years were
spent in Heidelberg, and here he picked up some German, and had a few
lessons on the violin, and saw as he grew up something of student
life in Germany. Music was always a perfect passion with George
Romanes, and if a little wholesome discipline had been exercised, the
boy might have become a very good musician.

Heidelberg and the days at Heidelberg represented to the younger
Romanes the 'golden age.'

They lived in an old house outside the town, surrounded by woods, and
here the children, George and his younger sister, roamed about to
their hearts' content, making collections and keeping pets, like the
born naturalists they were. Shockingly idle children but marvellously
happy ones, and in the peculiar 'let alone' system of their
household, they grew up, neither of them remembering any reproof, far
less any punishment, nor any attempt to make them learn lessons or
carry on studies for which they were not inclined. A long interval
of years separated the brothers, now only two in number,[1] and the
younger brother and sister were looked on and treated as children
long after they had emerged from childhood.

The father and mother seem to have attended Presbyterian and Anglican
churches with entire impartiality, but the younger members of the
family preferred the English church, and were confirmed in it.
Religion was a potent influence with the boy in quite early years,
and there grew up in him a purpose of taking Holy Orders, a purpose
which met with no encouragement from either of his parents.

If of intellectual achievement he gave as yet no promise, at least
there were the signs of a singularly pure and unselfish nature which
seemed to grow and develope with the growing years. All through his
life he was peculiarly tender, gentle, and unselfish, and his younger
sister describes a little scene of how, while a children's party was
going on downstairs, George found her upstairs alone and miserable,
suffering from some odd childish misery of nerves, unable to go down,
and yet hating to be alone; how he at once soothed and petted her,
sat by her the whole evening, telling her stories and successfully
driving away her unhappiness. The most characteristic bit appears at
the end. This sort of unselfish conduct was so usual, that his little
sister really forgot to thank him, nor did it occur to her till long
after that there was anything unusual in his willingness to sacrifice
a whole evening's amusement to what most boys would have regarded as
mere fancifulness, only deserving a due amount of severe teasing.

During these years the Romanes family spent their summers at
Dunskaith, on the shores of the Cromarty Firth. Here George Romanes
had his first lessons in sport at the hands of Dr. Brydon, the
well-known survivor of the fatal retreat from Cabul, 1842.[2] He soon
became an ardent sportsman and excellent shot, and not until his
fatal illness began did he ever fail to keep August 12 and September
1 in the proper way.

When George Romanes was about seventeen, he was sent to a tutor to
read in preparation for the University, his mother having suddenly
awakened to the fact that he was nearly grown up and not at all
ready for college. One of his fellow pupils was Mr. Charles Edmund
Lister, brother of the present owner of Shibden Hall, Halifax. With
Mr. Lister he formed a friendship destined to be only broken by Mr.
Lister's premature death in 1889. This friendship had important
results for George Romanes. He had been intended for Oxford, and his
name had been entered at Brasenose College, but Mr. Lister was to go
to Cambridge, and he easily persuaded his friend to follow him.

In October 1867 George John Romanes entered Gonville and Caius
College, Cambridge.


CAMBRIDGE. 1867-1873

Most men feel that their University life is one of the most marked
phases of their career. Even to those who come up from a public
school, with all the prestige and with all the friendships, the sense
of fellowship, the hundred and one influences, the customs of a great
school 'lying thick' upon them, realise more and more, as time goes
on, how great a part Oxford or Cambridge plays in their lives; how it
is in their University life they make their intellectual choice, and
receive the bias which, for good or for evil, will influence their
whole life.

And to this raw boy, fresh from a secluded and somewhat narrow
atmosphere, plunged for the first time into a great society,
brought for the first time under some of the influences of the then
'Zeitgeist,' into contact with some of the leaders of thought,
entrance into the University was the beginning of an entirely new
life.

He entered Cambridge, half-educated, utterly untrained, with no
knowledge of men or of books. He left it, to all intents and
purposes, a trained worker and earnest thinker, with his life work
begun--that work which was an unwearied search after truth, a work
characterised by an ever-increasing reverence for goodness, and,
as years went on, by a disregard for applause or for reward. His
Cambridge life was happy; he made several friends, chief of whom was
Mr. Proby Cautley, the present rector of Quainton near Aylesbury.

He enjoyed boating, and once narrowly escaped drowning in the Cam.[3]

At first George Romanes fell completely under Evangelical influences,
at that time practically the most potent religious force in
Cambridge. He was a regular communicant, and it is touching to look
at the little Bible he used while at Cambridge, worn, and marked,
and pencilled, with references to sermons which had evidently caught
the boy's attention. He used to attend meetings for Greek Testament
study, and enjoyed hearing the distinguished preachers who visited
the University.

But of the _intellectual_ influences in the religious world of the
University he knew nothing. F. D. Maurice was still in Cambridge,
but he seems to have repelled rather than to have attracted George
Romanes, nor did he ever come under the influence of Westcott, or of
Lightfoot, or of Hort.

And, when the intellectual struggles began, he seems in early years
to have owed very little to any Christian writer, Bishop Butler alone
excepted.

His summers were spent in Ross-shire, and there is no doubt these
months were of great use to him. He was perfectly unharassed so far
as pecuniary cares or family ambition were concerned, and he had
abundant time to think. Years afterwards, Mr. Darwin said to him:
'Above all, Romanes, cultivate the habit of meditation,' and Mr.
Romanes always quoted this as a most valuable bit of advice. His
intellectual development was rapid in these Cambridge years, and
it is not improbable that his slowly growing mind had not been ill
served by being allowed to mature in absolute freedom, although he
himself bitterly regretted and, through his whole life, deplored the
lack of early training, and of mental discipline.

Through these early Cambridge years he still cherished the idea
of Holy Orders, and with his friend, Mr. Cautley, he had many
talks about the career they both intended to choose. They spent
a part of one long vacation together, and occupied themselves in
reading theology--such books as 'Pearson on the Creed,' Hooker's
'Ecclesiastical Polity,' Bishop Butler's 'Analogy,' and in writing
sermons. Some of Mr. Romanes' are still extant, and are curious bits
of boyish composition--crude, unformed in style, and yet full of
thought, and showing a remarkable knowledge of the Bible.

He seems to have been, for the rest, a bright, good-tempered,
popular lad, always much chaffed for absent-minded mistakes, for
his long legs, for his peculiar name; and he certainly gave no one
the faintest idea of any particular ability, any likelihood of
future distinction.[4] Some slight chance, as it seemed, turned his
attention to natural science; one or two friends were reading for the
Natural Science Tripos, and George Romanes ceased to read mathematics
and began to work at natural science, competing for and winning a
scholarship in that subject.

Eighteen months only remained for him to work for his Tripos, and
it is not surprising that he only obtained a Second Class. In the
Tripos of 1870, in the same list among the First-Class men, Mr.
Francis Darwin's name appears.

Mr. Romanes had gone but a little distance along the road on which
he was destined to travel very far. He had up to this time read none
of Mr. Darwin's books, and to a question on Natural Selection which
occurred in the Tripos papers he could give no answer.

By this time he had abandoned the idea of Holy Orders, perhaps
on account of the opposition at home, perhaps because of the
first beginnings of the intellectual struggles of doubt and of
bewilderment. He began to study medicine, and made a lifelong
friendship with Dr. Latham, the well-known Cambridge physician, of
whose kindness Mr. Romanes often spoke, and to whom he dedicated his
first book, which was the Burney Prize for 1873. But he also began
to study physiology under the direction of Dr. Michael Foster, the
present Professor of Physiology at Cambridge, to whom she owes her
famous medical school, at that time in its very early beginnings.

Science entirely fascinated him; his first plunge into real
scientific work opened to him a new life, gave him the first sense
of power and of capacity. Now he read Mr. Darwin's books, and it is
impossible to overrate the extraordinary effect they had on the young
man's mind. Something of the feeling which Keats describes in the
sonnet 'On Looking into Chapman's Homer' seems to have been his:

    'Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
      When a new planet swims into his ken;
    Or like stout Cortez when, with eagle eyes,
      He stared at the Pacific--and all his men
    Looked at each other with a wild surmise
      Silent, upon a peak in Darien.'

About the spring of 1872 Mr. Romanes began to show signs of
ill-health. He was harassed by faintness and incessant lassitude,
but struggled on, going up to Scotland in the summer and beginning to
shoot, under the belief that all he wanted was hard exercise. At last
he broke down and was declared to be suffering from a bad attack of
typhoid fever. He had a very hard struggle for life, and owed a great
deal to Dr. Latham, who from Cambridge kept up a constant telegraphic
communication with the Ross-shire doctors. It was a long and weary
convalescence, beguiled in part by writing an essay on 'Christian
Prayer and General Laws,' the subject assigned for the Burney Prize
Essay of 1873.

Much of this essay was dictated to one or other of his sisters,
and it is a curious fact that his first book and his last should
have been on theological subjects. Both were written when he was
struggling with great bodily weakness, and in these months of early
manhood he showed the same almost pathetic desire to work, the same
activity of thought which he displayed more than twenty years later
in the last days of his life.

The essay was successful, and its author was more than once claimed
as a champion of faith on the strength of it.

It is a very hard bit of reading, and of course has to some extent
the drawback of a prize essay, a work written not simply to convince
the public, but to impress examiners. It is full of knowledge and of
intellectual agility, but is perhaps needlessly difficult in style.
His success was absolutely unexpected by his family, and made him
very happy, as the following letters show, written in the first glow
of success.


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  18 Cornwall Terrace.

  My dearest Mother,--Your letter of surprise and rejoicing has
  been to me one of the best parts of the result. All the letters
  of congratulation which are now coming in mention you: 'How
  delighted your mother will be,' &c.; and it is a great thing for
  me to find that you are so. Without appreciative sympathy success
  soon palls; but the two combined go to make up the best happiness.

  I went to Cambridge yesterday to get the manuscript, and as there
  happened to be a congregation in the afternoon, I also took my
  degree. I saw all my friends, who were overflowing with delight.
  Indeed, I never before realised how great the competition is,
  for I never had an opportunity of knowing how the successful man
  is lionised. The Caius dons especially are up in the air about
  it, as this is the first time in the history of the college
  that one of its members has got the Burney; so that, as Ferrers
  writes to me, 'when the same year produces a Senior Wrangler and
  a Burney Prizeman, the college may be said to be looking up.'
  I was invited to breakfast with the Professor of Divinity (who
  is the principal adjudicator), and I found him very pleasant
  indeed. Afterwards I went to the Vice-Chancellor, from whom I
  got the well-remembered 'pages' (but now with Prize I. written
  across them); and lastly, to the third adjudicator, the master
  of Christ's. They all said more in praise of the essay than I
  would care to repeat, but, to tell you the simple truth, I was
  perfectly astonished. For example, 'In the history of the Burney
  Prize there have only been two equals and no superiors.'

  The Vice-Chancellor told me that there was another essay well
  deserving of a prize which was written by a man of whom I dare
  say you will remember I said I was most afraid, viz., Mr. ----. I
  knew him very well when we were undergraduates, and three years
  ago he obtained the Trinity Scholarship in Philosophy, open to
  all competitors, and ended up eighteen months ago by graduating
  as Senior of the Moral Science Tripos. It is a great satisfaction
  to me that the man who was universally admitted to be the best
  of the Cambridge metaphysicians should have written, and that,
  notwithstanding, the decision should have been given unanimously
  in my favour.


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: April 24.

  My dearest James,--I am sure you will be as much pleased with
  the result of my labours as I am myself. I remember so well our
  speculating upon the probable chances of success, and how low we
  set them down. Had I known for certain that ---- was going to
  compete, I think I should have given up altogether. His essay
  does seem to have been extraordinarily good, and yet he cannot
  get a second prize, because the foundation requires that every
  penny of the interest shall go to the first man. As this seems
  rather hard lines for ----, I have to-day written to the Divinity
  Professor offering to share the prize money, on condition that
  the University recognise ---- as a prizeman.

  The extraordinary thing about the whole affair is, not so much
  the award, as the opinion which the adjudicators entertain of
  the work. I do not know how it is that, stranded on a sandbank
  and in a half dead-and-alive state, without thinking I was doing
  anything unusual, I should have written the prize essay. But I
  don't care how it is so long as it is so, as ---- writes, 'You
  certainly have achieved a great success, handicapped as you were
  in so many ways.' This, of course, relates to the award; but, as
  I said before, what surprised me most is that I should not only
  be first, but such a good first. The praise given by each of the
  adjudicators separately, in as strong terms as it is possible
  in donnish phraseology to convey it, was very gratifying to me,
  especially as pronounced in the studiously dignified manner of
  the Vice-Chancellor.

  I hope soon to see you and tell you more about the whole thing;
  for one of the best parts of it is, that 'if one member be
  honoured, all the members rejoice with it.'

  Ever your loving Brother,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


During his convalescence Mr. Romanes finally abandoned the idea of a
profession and resolved to devote himself to scientific research.

It was about this time that a letter of his in 'Nature' (see
'Nature,' vol. viii. p. 101) attracted Mr. Darwin's attention, and
caused him to send a friendly little note to the youthful writer.

Probably Mr. Darwin had little idea of the effect his letter produced
on its recipient, who was then recovering from his long illness. That
Darwin should actually write to _him_ seemed too good to believe. It
was a great encouragement to go on with scientific work.

Up to 1873 or 1874 Mr. Romanes had been working, when at Cambridge,
in Dr. Michael Foster's laboratory, and was a member of that band
who formed the nucleus of what was destined to be the famous
physiological school of Cambridge. Side by side with Mr. Romanes were
working Mr. Gaskell, Mr. Dew Smith, and others now well known for
their work and achievements.

In some ways Mr. Romanes suffered from not remaining at Cambridge and
becoming a permanent member of the band.

It is impossible not to feel that had he stayed on at the University
he would have devoted himself more and more to strictly experimental
work and less to what may be called philosophical natural history.
Some will regard his removal as a misfortune, and others as a happy
accident, but the might-have-beens of life are never very profitable
subjects for speculation.

In order to be with his now widowed mother, he returned to London,
and made his home with her and his sisters. They spent their summers
at Dunskaith, and Mr. Romanes embarked on researches on the nervous
system of the Medusæ. He began also to work in the physiological
laboratory of University College under Dr. Sharpey and Dr. Burdon
Sanderson. Both he regarded as masters and friends, and perhaps, next
to Mr. Darwin, Dr. Sanderson was the scientific friend George Romanes
most valued and loved, although it is impossible to overrate what he
owed to Cambridge, and to those early longings for biological study
which were inspired by Dr. Foster.

As has been said, a letter in 'Nature' attracted Mr. Darwin's notice,
and somewhere about 1874 he invited Mr. Romanes to call on him.

From that time began an unbroken friendship, marked on one side by
absolute worship, reverence, and affection, on the other by an almost
fatherly kindness and a wonderful interest in the younger man's
work and in his career. That first meeting was a real epoch in Mr.
Romanes' life. Mr. Darwin met him, as he often used to tell, with
outstretched hands, a bright smile, and a 'How glad I am that you are
so young!'

Perhaps no hero-worship was ever more unselfish, more utterly loyal,
or more fully rewarded. As time went on, and intimacy increased,
and restraint wore off, Mr. Romanes found that the great master
was as much to be admired for his personal character as for his
wonderful gifts, and to the youth who never, in the darkest days of
utter scepticism, parted with the love for goodness, for beauty of
character, this was an overwhelming joy.

In a poem written about 1884 Mr. Romanes has expressed something
of what he felt for Mr. Darwin, and in this he has poured out his
'hero-worship' in terms which were to him the expressions of simple
truth.

It is interesting to look over the long series of letters from 1874
to 1882 and notice how the formal 'Dear Mr. Romanes' drops into
the familiar 'Dear Romanes,' and the letters become more and more
affectionate, intimate, personal.

About this time also Mr. Romanes made many other scientific friends,
Professor Schäfer, Professor Cossar Ewart, Mr. Francis Darwin,
Dr. Pye Smith, Professor R. Lankester, Professor Clifford, Dr.
Lauder Brunton, and many more; and as his work became known it is
pleasant to see with what kindness of welcome the new recruit was
welcomed to the scientific army by such men as Professor Huxley, Sir
John Lubbock, Sir Joseph Hooker, Mr. Busk, Mr. F. Galton, and Mr.
Spottiswoode, then President of the Royal Society.

Just at that time there was a set of rising young biologists who
all seemed destined to do good work, and it is melancholy to look
back and to see 'how of that not too numerous band a number have been
taken from us in the prime of life, Garrod, Frank Balfour, Moseley,
H. Carpenter, Milnes Marshall, Romanes.'[5]

At Dunskaith a little laboratory was fitted up in an adjoining
cottage, and here during the summer Mr. Romanes worked constantly
for some years, diversifying his labours by shooting. It was in his
country home also that he began those series of observations on
animals which he worked up into the 'Animal Intelligence' of the
International Scientific Series, perhaps the most popular of his
books. The terrier Mathal was his special companion, and he observed
various traits of her intelligence which are recorded in 'Mental
Evolution in Animals,' pp. 156, 157, 158. It was also at Dunskaith
that he began his first attempts at verse making, but for some years
these did not come to much.

His scientific work at Dunskaith led to a paper communicated to the
Royal Society in 1875, and entitled 'Preliminary Observations on the
Locomotor System of Medusæ.'

This paper the Royal Society honoured by making it the Croonian
Lecture, an honour awarded to the best biological paper of each
year.[6]

Mr. Romanes had worked for two years, or rather two summers, very
constantly and very strenuously on the Medusæ. He set himself to try
and discover whether or not the rudiments of a nervous system existed
in these creatures. Agassiz had maintained it did, others considered
his deductions premature, and Huxley, in his 'Classification of
Animals,' summed up the much-debated question by saying that 'no
nervous system had yet been discovered in Medusæ.'

Microscopically, it had already been shown that in some forms of
Medusæ there are present certain fine fibres running along the margin
of the swimming bell, from their appearance said to be nerves, but
in no case had it been shown that they functioned as such. Thus it
was to solve this question, whether or not a nervous system, known
to be present in all animals higher in the zoological scale, makes
its first appearance in the Medusæ, that Mr. Romanes entered upon
a long series of physiological experiments, first on the group of
small 'naked-eyed' Medusæ, and then on the larger 'covered-eyed'
form, the latter division containing the common jelly-fish. These
names, 'naked-eyed' and 'covered-eyed,' are given to the two groups
on account of a difference in their sense organs, which are situated
on the margin of the umbrella or swimming bell, and are protected by
a hood of gelatinous matter in the 'covered-eyed' forms, so called in
contradistinction to the 'naked-eyed' group, where the hood is absent.

Romanes first carefully observed the movements of the Medusæ,
which, it will be remembered, are effected by the dilatation and
contraction of the entire swimming bell, and he found that if, in
the 'naked-eyed' group, the extreme margin of this swimming bell
be excised, immediate, total, and permanent paralysis of the whole
organ took place. This result was obtained with every species of this
group which he examined; he therefore concluded that in the margin
of all these forms there is situated a localised system of centres
of spontaneity, having for one of its functions the origination of
impulses to which the contraction of the swimming bell is, under
ordinary circumstances, exclusively due. This deduction was confirmed
by the behaviour of the severed thread-like portion of the margin,
which continued its rhythmical contractions quite unimpaired by its
severance from the main organism, the latter remaining perfectly
motionless. In the 'covered-eyed' forms Romanes found that excision
of the margin of the umbrella, or rather excision of the sense organs
or marginal bodies, produced paralysis; in this case, the paralysis
was of a temporary character, as in the great majority of cases
contractions were resumed after a variable period. From this series
of experiments he was led to believe that in the 'covered-eyed'
Medusæ the margin is the _principal_, but not the _exclusive_,
seat of spontaneity, there being other locomotor centres scattered
throughout the general contractile tissue of the swimming bell.

Having demonstrated the existence of a central nervous system capable
of originating impulses, Romanes had yet to prove the identity of
this nervous tissue of the Medusæ with that of nervous tissues
in general: therefore, he next proceeded to test whether it was
also capable of responding to external stimulation by light, heat,
electricity, &c.

As regards appreciation of light, he was able to prove conclusively
for at least two species of the 'naked-eyed' forms that as long as
their marginal bodies remained intact they would always respond to
luminous stimulation, and would crowd along a beam of light cast
through a darkened bell jar in which they were swimming; if their
marginal bodies were removed, they remained indifferent to light.
With regard to the 'covered-eyed' forms, he obtained sufficient
evidence to induce him to believe they possessed a visual sense
localised in their marginal sense organs.

The effects of electrical stimulation agreed in all respects with
those produced on the excitable tissues of other animals. He next
experimentally investigated in the jelly-fish the paths along which
the nervous impulses must pass in their passage from the locomotor
centres, where they originate, to the general contractile tissues of
the animal.

The results of these experiments led him to infer the existence of a
very fine plexus of nerve fibres, in which the constituent threads
cross and re-cross one another without actually coalescing. This
conclusion, which he arrived at from purely experimental grounds, was
some years afterwards confirmed by minute histological research.

Finally, the effect of various poisons, chloroform, alcohol, &c., was
tried, and the striking resemblance of their action on the nervous
system of the Medusæ with that which they exert on that of higher
animals supports the belief that nerve tissue when it first appears
in the scene of life has the same fundamental properties as it has in
higher animals.

This piece of work was important, as the facts threw light, as
Professor Sanderson has said, on elementary questions of physiology
relating to excitability and conduction, and it was a characteristic
of Mr. Romanes that in all his work, of whatever kind, he was always
searching for principles. The minutest detail never escaped his
attention if it appeared at all likely in any way to throw light on
some biological or psychological problem. Only a trained scientific
worker can appreciate the amount of labour these Royal Society papers
represented. In 1875 he gave a Friday evening lecture at the Royal
Institution on his work on Medusæ.

He was also at this time working on the subject of 'Pangenesis,'[7]
and a series of letters to Mr. Darwin and to Professor Schäfer may
interest some readers.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.:
  January 14, 1875.

  Dear Mr. Darwin,--I should very much like to see the papers
  to which you allude. _A priori_ one would have thought the
  bisecting plan the more hopeful, but if the other has yielded
  positive results, in the case of an eye and tubers, I think it
  would be worth while to try the effect of transplanting various
  kinds of pips into the pulps of kindred varieties of fruit;
  for the homological relations in this case would be pretty much
  the same as in the other, with the exception of the bud being
  an impregnated one. If positive results ensued, however, this
  last-mentioned fact would be all the better for 'Pangenesis.'

  You have doubtless observed the very remarkable case given in
  the 'Gardener's Chronicle' for January 2--I mean the vine in
  which the _scion_ appears to have notably affected the _stock_.
  Altogether vines seem very promising; and as their buds admit
  of being planted in the ground, it would be much more easy to
  try the bisecting plan in their case than in others, where one
  half-bud, besides requiring to be fitted to the other half, has
  also to have its shield fitted into the bark. All one's energies
  might then be expended in coaxing adhesion, and if once this
  were obtained, I think there would here be the best chance of
  obtaining a hybrid; for then all, or nearly all, the cells of
  the future branch would be in the state of gemmules. I am very
  sanguine about the buds growing under these circumstances, for
  the vigour with which bisected seeds germinate is perfectly
  astonishing.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--I have been to see Dr. Hooker, and found his kindness and
  courtesy quite what you led me to expect. Such men are rare.


  April 21, 1875.

  In returning you ----'s papers, I should like to say that
  the one on 'Inheritance' appears to me quite destitute of
  intelligible meaning. It is a jumble of the same confused ideas
  upon heredity about which I complained when you were at this
  house. How in the world can 'force' act without any material
  on which to act? Yet, unless we assume that it can, the whole
  discussion is either meaningless, or else assumes the truth of
  some such theory as 'Pangenesis.' In other words, as it must be
  'unthinkable' that force should act independently of matter,
  the doctrine of its persistence can only be made to bear upon
  the question of heredity, by supposing that there is a material
  connection between corporeal and germinal cells--_i.e._ by
  granting the existence of _force-carriers_, call them gemmules,
  or physiological units, or what we please.

  Lawson Tait says (p. 60)--'The process of growth of the ovum
  after impregnation can be followed only after the assumption
  either expressed or _unconsciously accepted_ of such a hypothesis
  as is contained in Mr. Darwin's "Pangenesis;"' and it is
  interesting, as showing the truth of the remark, to compare,
  for example, p. 29 of the other pamphlet--for, of course,
  'Pangenesis' assumes the truth of the persistence of force as
  the prime condition of its possibility. If ever I have occasion
  to prepare a paper about heredity, I think it would be worth
  while to point out the absurdity of thinking that we explain
  anything by vague allusions to the most ultimate generalisation
  of science. We might just as well say that Canadian institutions
  resemble British ones because force is persistent. This
  doubtless is the ultimate reason, but our explanation would be
  scientifically valueless if we neglected to observe that the
  Canadian colony was founded by British individuals.

  The leaf from 'Nature' arrived last night. I had previously
  intended to try mangold-wurzel, as I hear it has well-marked
  varieties. The reference, therefore, will be valuable to me.

  Before closing, I should like to take this opportunity of
  thanking you again for the very pleasant time I spent at Down.
  The place was one which I had long wished to see, and now that
  I have seen it, I am sure it will ever remain one of the most
  agreeable and interesting of memory's pictures.

  With kind regards to Mrs. Darwin, I remain, very sincerely and
  most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _To Professor E. Schäfer._

  Dunskaith, Ross-shire.

  My dear Schäfer,--I am glad to hear that your rest has been
  beneficial, and also about all the other news you give.

  I should like to have your opinion about the meaning of the
  following facts.

  In Sarsia gentle irritation of a tentacle or an eye-speck causes
  the _polypite_ to respond, but not the bell (stronger irritation,
  of course, causes both to respond); this seems to show that there
  are nervous connections between the eye-specks and the polypite.
  By introducing cuts between former and latter, these connections
  may be destroyed--the tolerance of the tissue to such sections
  being variable in different cases, but never being anything
  remarkable. So far, then, the matter seems favourable to the
  nerve-plexus theory.

  In another disc-shaped species of naked-eyed Medusæ with a long
  polypite, which I have called _Tiaropsis indicans_, from its
  habit of applying this long polypite to any part of the bell
  which is being injured, the _localising_ function of the polypite
  is destroyed as regards any area of bell-tissue between which
  and the polypite a circumferential section has been introduced.
  In other words, the connections between the bell and the
  polypite, on which localising function of the latter depends,
  are exclusively radial. But not so the connections between the
  bell and the polypite, which render it possible for the one to be
  aware that something is wrong _somewhere_ in the other. For if
  the whole animal be cut into a spiral with the polypite at one
  end, irritation of the other end of the spiral, or any part of
  its length, causes the polypite to sway about from side to side
  trying to find the offending body. And here it is important to
  observe that wherever a portion of one of the radial tubes occurs
  in the course of the spiral, irritation of that portion causes
  a much stronger response on the part of the polypite than does
  irritation of any of the general bell-tissue, even though this be
  situated much nearer to the polypite. This seems to show that the
  nervous plexus, if present, has its constituent fibres aggregated
  into trunks in the course of the nutriment tubes.

  Thus far, then, I should be inclined to adopt the nerve-plexus
  theory. But lastly, we come to another species with a very
  large bell and a very small polypite. Irritation of margin or
  radial tubes causes the animal to go into a violent spasm, but
  irritation of the general muscular layer only causes an ordinary
  locomotor contraction. On cutting the whole animal into a spiral,
  and irritating the extreme end of several marginal strips,
  the entire muscular part of the spiral goes into spasm. On
  interposing a great number of interdigitating cuts in the course
  of the spiral, there is no difference in these results. Now the
  question is, What is the nature of the tissue that conducts
  impressions from the ganglionic tissue to the muscular, making
  the latter go into a spasm? A spasm is as different as possible
  from an ordinary contraction, and will continue to pass long
  after the ordinary contractions have been blocked by severity
  of section. It is scarcely possible to suppose a nerve-plexus
  here--the tolerance towards section being so great, although it
  varies in different cases. Besides, suppose this to be a segment
  of animal cut as represented. On irritating margin at _a_ all
  the bell goes into a spasm, and it is evident that whatever the
  nature of the conductile tissue, all the connections must pass
  through the tract of tissue at _b_. Yet on irritating that tract
  no spasm is given. I cannot understand this on any view as to the
  nature of the conductile tissue.

  [Illustration: FIG. 1.]

  Altogether, then, this part of the inquiry is very perplexing.
  Other parts are definite enough. All the poisons, for instance,
  yield very definite results, which are in conformity with their
  actions elsewhere.

  I have had no time to do anything at the histology as yet. Would
  it be worth while for me to send you various species in a little
  sea water? They would arrive in a tolerably fresh condition,
  but would require to be examined at once. I might try sending
  some in spirit and others in chromic acid. I have made a few
  preliminary experiments with the galvanometer on Sarsia, placing
  one electrode on the margin and another on the muscular sheet,
  but without any decided results. I also tried placing a Sarsia in
  one beaker and simple sea water in another, connecting by means
  of the electrodes, but no disturbance was observable.


  June 4.

  I am working very hard just now, as there are so many irons to
  keep hot at once. It is too soon yet to see the results of spring
  grafting on the many plants I have operated on, and I have not
  had time to do anything with animals since I left London.

  The Medusæ have now come on in their legion, and occupy my
  undivided attention. The results so far have proved as definite
  as they are interesting and important. The following is a summary
  of the principal.

  All genera of naked-eyed yet examined become immediately and
  permanently paralysed (except polypite) upon excision of margin,
  but not so with the covered-eyed.

  The organism thus mutilated responds with a single contraction
  to a nip with the forceps, also to various chemical stimuli. The
  chain of ganglia do the same, and further resemble the mutilated
  organism in contracting once to both make and break of direct
  or of induced shock. They differ, however, in one important
  particular: the severed margin retains its sensibility to the
  induced shock much longer than to the direct, while with the
  necto-calyx the converse is the case--the latter responding
  vigorously to make and break of direct current after it has
  ceased to be affected by even interrupted current with secondary
  coil pushed up to zero (one cell).

  A strange and, so far as I am aware, an unparalleled phenomenon
  is sometimes manifested by Sarsia after removal of ganglia. It
  only happens in about one case out of ten, and _never_ except in
  response to either chemical or electrical stimulation. A bell
  quite paralysed, and which may have responded normally enough
  to stimulation for a number of times, suddenly begins an active
  shivering motion, which may last from a minute to half an hour.
  This motion is totally different from anything exhibited by the
  animal when alive, and after ceasing never recommences without
  fresh stimulation. The shivering appearance, I think, is due to
  the various systems of muscles contracting without co-ordination,
  but why it should take place in some cases and not in others, I
  am quite unable to determine.

  Irritability of bell to shocks increases progressively from
  centre to circumference, and is greatest when electrodes are
  placed on marginal canal. Also a similar progressive increase
  is observable on approaching one of the _radial_ canals, and
  is greatest when electrodes are placed on one of these. (I may
  observe that however neat a person's fingers may be it would be
  simply impossible to conduct these and other observations of the
  same nature without a mechanical stage. The electrodes must be
  needle-points passed through cords, the latter being supported
  by a copper wire fixed to the stage, and therefore moveable with
  it; and I defy anybody to get the electrodes into the field, and
  at the same time upon the marginal canal, unless they all move
  together.)

  [Illustration: FIG. 2.]

  Sarsia stands an astonishing amount of section without losing
  nervous conductibility. For instance, the whole organism may be
  cut into a three-turned spiral, and on irritating the end, the
  whole contracts; yet a moment's thought will show how trying
  this mode of section is to nervous connections. As the animal
  may be cut, as in the following diagram, which represents the
  whole organism in projection--the dotted lines being the canals,
  and the thick ones the cuts--on now irritating any part of the
  animal, the whole contracts, but the co-ordination power is lost,
  both in spontaneous contraction and for those in response to
  stimuli.

  If the entire margin be cut out in a continuous piece save a
  small portion to unite it with the bell, and if the distal end
  be now irritated, a main of contraction runs along the entire
  severed part till it arrives at the small united part, when
  the whole bell contracts. I should like to try whether under
  such circumstances the margin would be thrown into a state of
  electrotonus, but only having one cell I am not able to make out
  this point satisfactorily.

  The severed margin continues its rhythmical contractions for
  two or three days. I am now trying the effect of different
  chemical stimuli, and if you can suggest any further line of
  experimentation, of course I shall be very pleased. Only, if
  you can think of anything which might be tried and which is
  not mentioned in this letter, please write soon, as the Sarsia
  will not last much longer, and they are the best adapted for my
  purposes.

  I remain, very sincerely yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--I should have said that neither gold nor silver brings out
  any nervous tissue.

  Medusa muscle is not doubly refracting, but then none that I
  have here seen is striated, and unstriated muscle is not doubly
  refracting anywhere, is it?


  Dunskaith: June 24.

  Many thanks for your long and suggestive letter. The poisons
  also are most acceptable. I have waited before writing to try
  effect of the latter, but the weather has been so stormy that no
  jelly-fish could be got.

  The most interesting observations I have made since writing
  before are the following. Unmutilated Sarsia in a dark room seek
  a beam of light thrown into the bell-jar containing them, and
  this as keenly as do moths. But when the so-called eye-specks are
  cut out, the animal no longer cares for light.

  I have only come across two species of luminous Medusæ--both, I
  believe, as yet undescribed--and in these the light is emitted
  from the margin alone, and, with electrical stimulus, is strictly
  confined to the intra-polar regions, being strongest at the two
  poles.

  There is no doubt at all about the muscular nature of the fibres
  we saw. In the larger kinds of Medusæ (the covered-eyed) these
  fibres are much coarser, and are clearly seen to be arranged in
  concentric bundles, having four or five fibres in each bundle.
  Alternating with these bundles, and about the same width as
  these, are strands of undifferentiated protoplasm. These strands
  are not spontaneously contractile, although their dimensions
  are altered by the contraction of the muscular branch on each
  of their sides. No part of the tissue is doubly refracting in
  the fresh state. Is there any way of treating it with a view
  of bringing out this property if latent, so to speak? The
  peculiarity is not due to the _transparency_ of the tissue, for
  I find that the muscular fibre of the transparent osseous fish
  _Leptocephalus_ is as doubly-refracting as could be wished. There
  are no signs of striæ, but Agassiz says that in some of the
  Mediterranean species striæ are well marked. But if both striated
  and unstriated fibres are elsewhere doubly-refracting, it does
  not, I suppose, much signify whether or not the muscles of Medusæ
  are striated--so far, I mean, as the peculiarity in question is
  concerned.

  I wish you would say what you think about this peculiarity in
  relation to a subject that I have been working up. You no doubt
  remember that in ----'s paper that we heard read, he said that
  the snail's heart had no nerves or ganglia, but nevertheless
  behaved like nervous tissue in responding to electrical
  stimulation. He hence concluded that in undifferentiated tissue
  of this kind, nerve and muscle were, so to speak, amalgamated.
  Now it was principally with the view of testing this idea about
  'physiological continuity' that I tried the mode of spiral and
  other sections mentioned in my last letter. The result of these
  sections, it seems to me, is to preclude, on the one hand, the
  supposition that the muscular tissue of Medusæ is merely muscular
  (for no muscle would respond to local stimulus throughout its
  substance when so severely cut), and, on the other hand, the
  supposition of a nervous plexus (for this would require to be
  so very intricate, and the hypothesis of scattered cells is
  without microscopical evidence here or elsewhere). I think,
  therefore, that we are driven to conclude that the muscular
  tissue of Medusæ, though more differentiated into _fibres_ than
  is the contractile tissue of the snail's heart, is, as much as
  the latter, an instance of 'physiological continuity.' (Whether
  or not the interfascicular protoplasmic substance before
  spoken of is the seat of this physiological continuity is here
  immaterial.) Dr. Foster fully agrees with me in this deduction
  from my experiments, and is very pleased about the latter, thus
  affording additional support to his views. But what I want to ask
  you is, supposing the interfascicular substance to have no share
  in conducting stimulus (and I have no evidence of its presence
  in Sarsia), and hence that the properties of nerve and muscle
  are united in the contractile fibres of Medusæ--supposing this,
  do you think that the peculiarity you observed in the molecular
  conformation of this tissue, considered as muscular, is likely to
  have anything to do with this peculiarity in its function?

  I know you do not like theory, so I shall return to fact. There
  can be no doubt whatever that the seat of spontaneity is as
  much localised in the margin as the sensibility to stimulus
  is diffused throughout the bell. There _must_, therefore, be
  some structural difference in the tissue here to correspond to
  this great functional difference. Agassiz is very positive in
  describing a chain of cells running round the inner part of the
  marginal canal. Now, although I sometimes see a thin cord-like
  appearance here, I should not dare to say it was nervous. Gold
  certainly stains it, but it also stains many other parts of the
  tissue, and until I can see _cells_ here I cannot be sure about
  a _visible_ nervous cord. The cord I do see may be the wall of
  the marginal canal. I intend to persevere, however, trying your
  suggestions, also osmic acid.

  I can get no indications of electrical disturbance during
  contraction in the way you suggest--at least not with Sarsia; but
  I intend to try with some of the larger Medusæ.

  Some apparatus is coming from Cambridge to enable me to test
  for electrotonus and Pflüger's law. I shall apply it to the
  luminous Medusæ also, whose light, I forgot to say, is seen under
  the microscope in the dark to proceed not only from the margin
  alone, but from that particular part of the margin where Agassiz
  describes his chain of nervous cells.

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _From C. Darwin to G. J. Romanes._

  Down, Beckenham, Kent: July 18, 1875.

  I have been much interested by your letter, and am truly
  delighted at the prospect of success. Such energy as yours is
  almost sure to command victory. The world will be much more
  influenced by experiments on animals than on plants. But in
  any case I think a large number of successful results will be
  necessary to convince physiologists. It is rash to be sanguine,
  but it will be splendid if you succeed. My object in writing has
  been to say that it has only just occurred to me that I have not
  sent you a copy of my 'Insectivorous Plants;' if you would care
  to have a copy, and do not possess one, send me a postcard, and
  one shall be sent. If I do not hear, I shall understand.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  Dunskaith, Nigg P.O., Ross-shire, N.B.: July 20, 1875.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--Your letter arrived just in time to prevent
  my sending an order to my bookseller for 'Insectivorous Plants,'
  for, of course, it is needless to say that I shall highly value
  a copy from yourself. At first I intended to wait until I should
  have more time to enjoy the work, but a passage in this week's
  'Nature' determined me to get a copy at once. This passage was
  one about reflex action, and I am very anxious to see what you
  say about this, because in a paper I have prepared for the 'B.A.'
  on Medusæ I have had occasion to insist upon the occurrence of
  reflex action in the case of these, notwithstanding the absence
  of any distinguishable system of afferent and efferent nerves.
  But as physiologists have been so long accustomed to associate
  the phenomena of reflex action with some such distinguishable
  system, I was afraid that they might think me rather audacious in
  propounding the doctrine, that there is such a thing as reflex
  action without well-defined structural channels for it to occur
  in. But if you have found something of the same sort in _plants_,
  of course I shall be very glad to have your authority to quote.
  And I think it follows deductively from the general theory of
  evolution, that reflex action ought to be present before the
  lines in which it flows are sufficiently differentiated to become
  distinguishable as nerves.

  I am very glad that you are pleased with my progress so far.


  _From C. Darwin to G. J. Romanes._

  Down, Beckenham, Kent: Sept. 24.

  I shall be very glad to propose you for Linnean Soc., as I have
  just done for my son Francis. There is no doubt about your
  election. I have written for blank form. Please let me have your
  title, B.A. or M.A., and title of any book or papers, to which I
  could add 'various contributions to "Nature."' Also shall I say
  'attached to Physiology and Zoology'? When I have signed whole,
  shall I send a paper to Hooker and others at Kew; or do you wish
  it sent to some one else for signature? Three signatures are
  required. The paper will have to be read twice or thrice when
  Soc. meets in November. But you could get books out of library or
  out of that of Royal Soc. by my signature or that of any other
  member.

  I am terribly sorry about the onions, as I expected great things
  from them, the seeds coming, I believe, always true. As tubers of
  potatoes graft so well, would it not be good to try other tubers
  as of dahlias and other plants? I have been re-writing a large
  portion of the chapter on Pangenesis, and it has been awfully
  hard work. I will, of course, send you a copy when the work is
  printed. How I do hope that your fowls will survive! F. Galton
  was here for a few hours yesterday; I see that he is much less
  sceptical about Pangenesis than he was.


  Dunskaith, Nigg, Ross-shire, N.B., Sept. 29, 1875.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--Many thanks for your kind letter. I am an
  M.A. and a fellow of the Philosophical Society of Cambridge,
  but otherwise I am nothing, nor have I any publication worth
  alluding to. I suppose, however, this will not matter if I am
  proposed by yourself, Dr. Hooker, and Mr. Dyer. I think there
  would be no harm in saying 'attached to Physiology and Zoology.'
  I may read a paper before the Linnean next November on some new
  species of Medusæ, but I think it is better not to allude to any
  contributions in advance.

  Your letter about Pangenesis made me long for success more even
  than does the biological importance of the problem.[8] Yesterday
  I dug up all my potatoes. Some of the produce looked suspicious,
  but more than this I should not dare to say. By this post I send
  you a box containing some of the best specimens, thinking you may
  like to see them. The lots marked A and B are sent for comparison
  with the others, being the kinds I grafted together. If you think
  it worth while to have the eyes of any of the other lots planted,
  you might either do so yourself or send them back to me. Lot C is
  the queerest, and to my perhaps too partial eye looks very like
  a mixture. In the case of this graft the seed potato was rotten
  when dug up yesterday, and this may account for the small size
  of the tubers sent.

  I did try dahlias and peonies, but in the former the 'finger and
  toe' shape of the tubers, with the eyes situated in the worst
  parts for cutting out clearly, prevented me from getting adhesion
  in any one case. With the peonies I was too late in beginning.
  It was also too late in the year when I began Pangenesis to try
  the spring flowers, but I hope to do so extensively this winter.
  Next year I shall try grafting beets and mangolds by cutting the
  young white root into a square shape and placing four red roots
  all round. In this way the white one will have a maximum surface
  exposed to the influence of the red ones. I shall also try
  grafting the crown of the red in the root of the white variety,
  and _vice versâ_. I have already done this very successfully with
  carrots--making a little hole in the top of the root, and fitting
  in the crown like a cork in a bottle.

  I shall look forward with great interest to the appearance of
  the new edition of the 'Variation.' I only wish I had begun
  Pangenesis a year earlier, when perhaps by this time the
  graft-hybrid question might have been settled. Perhaps, however,
  it is as well to have this question once more presented in its
  _a priori_ form, for if it can soon afterwards be proved that a
  graft hybrid is possible, the theoretical importance of the fact
  may be more generally appreciated.

  A day or two ago I saw on a farm near this a beautiful specimen
  of striping on a horse. The animal is a dark dun cob, with a very
  divided shoulder stripe coming off from the spinal one on either
  side. Each shoulder stripe then divides into three prongs, and
  each prong ends in a sharp point. All the legs are black as far
  as the knees (_carpi_ and _tarsi_), and above the black part for
  a considerable distance all four legs are deeply marked with
  numerous stripes. I can get no history of parentage. If you would
  like a drawing I can send one, but perhaps you have already as
  many cases as you want in the 'Variation.'

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _To Professor E. Schäfer._

  Dunskaith: Sept. 1875.

  My dear Schäfer,--I have to apologise for having left your last
  letter so long unanswered, but there has really been nothing
  going on here to make it worth while writing.

  I gave my careful consideration to all you said about publishing,
  and at one time nearly decided to wait another year. But
  eventually I sent in the paper.[9] It seems to me that the
  histology can very well wait for future treatment--that its
  absence is not sufficient justification for withholding the
  results I have already observed. These results, after all,
  are the most important; for they prove that some structural
  modification there _must_ be; whether or not this modification
  is _visible_ is of subordinate interest. Besides, I do not,
  of course, intend to abandon the microscopical part of the
  subject altogether. In my view, inquiry into function in this
  case must certainly always precede inquiry into structure; for
  although, when all the work shall have been collected into one
  monograph, the histology must occupy the first place in order of
  presentation, very little way could have been made by following
  this order of investigation.

  I also had to reflect, that if I postponed publication, it would
  be impossible to expect the R.S. to publish the results _in
  extenso_,--_i.e._, I should have to bring out the work through
  some other medium.

  And in addition to all this, there came a letter from Foster
  preaching high morality about it being the duty of all scientific
  workers to give their results to others as soon as possible.

  As I said before, I thank you very much for the consideration and
  advice you have given, but I know that you would not like me to
  feel that the expression of your opinion in a matter with which
  you are not so fully acquainted as myself should lay me under any
  obligation to be led by it, after mature consideration seemed to
  show that the best course for me to follow was the one which I
  took.

  Hoping soon to see you, I remain, very sincerely yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--I forgot to say that I acted upon your suggestion about the
  Linnean, and have been proposed by Darwin, Hooker, and Huxley.


  _From C. Darwin to G. J. Romanes._

  Down, Beckenham, Kent: July 12, 1875.

  I am correcting a second edition of 'Var. under Dom.,' and
  find that I must do it pretty fully. Therefore I give a short
  abstract of potato graft hybrids, and I want to know whether I
  did not send you a reference about beet. Did you look to this,
  and can you tell me anything about it? I hope with all my heart
  that you are getting on pretty well with your experiments; I have
  been led to think a good deal on the subject, and am convinced
  of its high importance, though it will take years of hammering
  before physiologists will admit that the sexual organs only
  collect the generative elements.

  The edition will be published in November, and then you will see
  all that I have collected, but I believe that you saw all the
  more important cases. The case of vine in 'Gardeners' Chronicle'
  which I sent you I think may only be a bud-variation, not due to
  grafting.

  I have heard indirectly of your splendid success with nerves of
  Medusæ. We have been at Abinger Hall for a month for rest which I
  much required, and I saw there the cut-leaved vine, which seems
  splendid for graft hybridisation.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  _To C. Darwin_, _Esq._

  Dunskaith: July 14, 1875.

  I was very glad to receive your letter, having been previously
  undecided whether to write and let you know how I am getting on,
  or to wait until I got a veritable hybrid.

  In one of your letters you advised me to look up the 'beet'
  case, but I could nowhere find any references to it. Dr. Hooker
  told me that although he could not then remember the man's name,
  he remembered that the experimenter did not save the seed, but
  dug up his roots for exhibition. I forget whether it was Dr.
  Masters, Bentham, or Mr. Dyer who told me that the experiment
  had been performed in Ireland, although they could not remember
  by whom. But if the experimenter did not save the seed, the mere
  fact of his sticking two roots together would have no bearing on
  Pangenesis, and so I did not take any trouble to find out who the
  experimenter was.

  As you have heard about the Medusæ, I fear you will infer that
  they must have diverted my attention from Pangenesis; but
  although it is true that they have consumed a great deal of
  time and energy, I have done my best to keep Pangenesis in the
  foreground.

  The _proximate_ success of my grafting is all that I can desire,
  although, of course, it is as yet too early in the year to know
  what the _ultimate_ success will be. I mean that, although I
  cannot yet tell whether the tissue of one variety is affecting
  that of the other, I have obtained intimate adhesion in the great
  majority of experiments. Potatoes, however, are an exception,
  for at first I began with a method which I thought very cunning,
  and which I still think would have been successful but for one
  little oversight. The method was to punch out the eyes with an
  electroplated cork-borer, and replace them in a flat-bottomed
  hole of a slightly smaller size made with another instrument in
  the other tuber. The fit, of course, was always perfect; but
  what I went wrong in was not having the cork-borers made of the
  best steel; for after I got about one hundred potatoes planted
  out, I found that the inserted plugs did not adhere. I therefore
  tried some sections with an exceedingly sharp knife that surgeons
  use for amputating, and the surfaces cut with this always adhered
  under pressure. The knife, however, must be set up in a guide,
  in order to get the surfaces perfectly flat. Next year I shall
  get cork-borers made of the same steel as this knife is made
  of, and then hope to turn out graft-hybrids by the score. Even
  this year, however, a great many of my potatoes are coming up,
  so I hope that some of the eyes may have struck. I think it is
  desirable to get some easy way of experimenting with potatoes
  (such as the cork-boring plan), and one independent of delicacy
  in manipulation, for then everybody could verify the results for
  himself, and not, as now, look with suspicion upon the success of
  other people.

  With beans I get very good adhesion of the young shoots, but the
  parts which grow after the operation always continue separate. In
  some cases I am trying a succession of operations as the plant
  grows.

  With beetroots and mangold-wurzel of all varieties, adhesion is
  certain to occur with my method of getting up great pressure by
  allowing the plants to grow for a few days inside the binding. I
  have therefore made grafts of all ages, beginning with roots only
  an inch or two long and as thin as threads.

  The other vegetables also are doing well, but with flowers I have
  had no success. The vine-cuttings were too young to do anything
  with this year, but I hear from my cousin, who has charge
  of them, that they are doing well. They certainly have very
  extraordinary leaves.

  This year I never expected to be more than one in which to gain
  experience, for embryo grafting, as it has never been tried by
  anybody, cannot be learned about except by experiments. But as I
  am a young man yet, and hope to do a good deal of 'hammering,' I
  shall not let Pangenesis alone until I feel quite sure that it
  does not admit of being any further driven home by experimental
  work; and even if I never get positive results, I shall always
  continue to believe in the theory.

  I am very sorry to hear that you 'much needed rest,' and do
  earnestly hope that you will not work too hard over the new
  edition of one of the most laborious treatises in our language--a
  treatise to which we always refer for every kind of information
  that we cannot find anywhere else.


  Dunskaith: November 7.

  I have to-day sent you a beautifully successful graft. It is
  of a red and white carrot, each bisected longitudinally, and
  two of the opposite halves joined. You will see that the union
  is very intimate, and _that the originally red half has become
  wholly white_. The graft was made about three months ago, at
  which time the carrots were very small, but the colours very
  decided. I think, therefore, that unless red carrots ever turn
  into white ones--which, I suppose, is absurd--the specimen I
  send is a graft-hybrid so far as the parts in contact are
  concerned. It will be of great importance, as you observed in
  your last letter, in a case like this, to see if the other parts
  are affected--_i.e._ to get the plant to seed if possible. This,
  I suppose, can only be done at this late season with so young
  a plant by putting it in a greenhouse. Perhaps, therefore, you
  might pot it, as soon as it arrives, and keep it till I go up.
  If you do not care, to take charge of it altogether, I can then
  get a home for it somewhere in the South. It will not require a
  deep pot, for I see that I have cut through the end of one of
  the roots. It would be as well, before potting, to cut off the
  end of the other root also, so that the one half may not grow
  longer than the other, and thus perhaps assert an undue amount
  of influence during the subsequent history of the hybrid. If
  the plant when you get it, or after potting, shows signs of
  drooping, I should suggest clipping off the older leaves to check
  evaporation: having found this a good plan with beets, &c.

  In the same box with the hybrid there is another carrot. This is
  for comparison, it having been from the same seed and grafted
  (upon the crown) at the same time as the originally red half of
  the hybrid.

  I am doubtful about the potatoes I sent. On looking over a number
  of 'red flukes,' I find some here and there are mottled. At any
  rate, I shall try other varieties next year, and not say anything
  about this doubtful case.

  I forgot to say that the hybrid carrot is the only specimen
  of longitudinal grafting which I tried with carrots, having
  been somewhat disheartened with this method by the persistent
  way in which beets and mangolds refuse to blend when grafted
  longitudinally. There have thus been no _failures_ with carrots
  grafted in this way.

  If it is not too late, I may suggest that the passage in the
  'Variation' about the deformity of the sternum in poultry had
  better be modified. I have this year tried some experiments
  upon Brahma chickens, and find that the deformity in question
  is caused by lazy habits of roosting--the constantly recurring
  pressure of the roost upon the cartilaginous sternum causing
  it to yield at the place where the pressure is exerted. The
  experiments consisted merely in confining some of a brood of
  young chickens in a place without any roost, and allowing the
  others to go about with all the March chickens. The former lot
  have the sternum quite straight, and the latter lot have it
  deeply notched.

  I write to thank you for the copy of the new edition of the
  'Variation' which I received a few days ago. I am very glad to
  see that you have thought my views about rudimentary organs worth
  a place, and that you speak so well of them.

  The chapter on Pangenesis is admirable. The case is so strong,
  that it makes me more anxious than ever to get positive results
  in this year's experiments. I mean there seems less doubt
  than ever that such results must be obtainable if one hammers
  long enough. I did not know that there were so many cases of
  graft-hybridisation in potatoes. Perhaps it will be better this
  year to give one's _main_ energies to other vegetables.

  I find that a German, Dr. Eimer, is on the scent of the
  jelly-fish, but he does not seem to have done much work as
  yet. It is arranged that I am to have a Friday evening at the
  Institution soon after Easter, to tell the people about my own
  work.


  _From C. Darwin to G. J. Romanes._

  6 Queen Anne Street: April 29, 1876.

  I must have the pleasure of saying that I have just heard that
  your lecture was a splendid success in all ways. I further hear
  that you were as cool as the Arctic regions. It is evident
  that there is no occasion for you to feel your pulse under the
  circumstances which we discussed.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  _To C. Darwin, Esq._

  I write to thank you for the slip about graft hybrids, and to
  say that as yet I have obtained no results myself. This place
  is too far north to admit of the seeds ripening properly after
  the plants have been thrown back several weeks by the operation.
  This applies especially to onions, so next year--the neck of
  Medusæ having now been broken--I intend to wait in London till
  all the grafting and planting out is finished. I do not think you
  will regret my not having followed such a course this year when
  you come to read the paper I am now writing. I never did such a
  successful four months' work, and if as many years suffice to
  answer all the burning questions that are raised by it, I think
  they will require to be years well spent.

  And this makes me remember that I have to apologise for the
  inordinate time I have kept your copy of Professor Häckel's essay
  on Perigenesis. Since you sent it I have scarcely had any time
  for reading, and as you said there was no hurry about returning
  it, I have let it stand over till this paper is off my hands.

  Lankester seems to have doubled up Slade in fine style. I suppose
  the latter has always trusted to his customers not liking to
  resort to violent methods. His defence in the 'Times' about the
  locked slates was unusually weak. 'Once a thief always a thief'
  applies, I suppose, to his case; but it is hard to understand
  how Wallace could not have seen him inverting the table on his
  head. In this we have another of those perplexing contradictions
  with which the whole subject appears to be teeming. I do hope
  next winter to settle for myself the simple issue between Ghost
  _versus_ Goose.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _To C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace.

  Professor Häckel's paper on the Medusæ is called 'Beitrag zur
  Naturgeschichte der Hydromedusen' (Leipzig, 1865). Professor
  Huxley has lent me his copy, but says he wants it returned in
  a week or two. I ought certainly to have the work by me next
  summer, so I thought that if you happen to have it and can
  spare it till next autumn, I need not send to Germany for it,
  remembering what you said when I last saw you. I should also much
  like to see the other paper of Häckel's about cutting up the ova
  of Medusæ.

  I have an idea that you are afraid I am neglecting Pangenesis for
  Medusæ. If so, I should like to assure you that such is not the
  case. Last year I gave more time to the former than to the latter
  inquiry; and although the results proved very disproportionate,
  this was only due to the fact that the one line of work was more
  difficult than the other. However, I always expected that the
  first year would require to be spent in breaking up the ground,
  and I am quite satisfied with the experience which this work has
  brought me. I confess, however, that but for personal reasons
  I should have postponed Pangenesis and worked the Medusæ right
  through in one year. There is a glitter about immediate results
  which is very alluring.


  _From C. Darwin to G. J. Romanes._

  I will send the books off by railway on Monday or Tuesday. You
  may keep that on Medusæ until I ask for it, which will probably
  be never. That on Siphonophora I should like to have back at some
  future time.

  So far from thinking that you have neglected Pangenesis, I have
  been astonished and pleased that your splendid work on the
  jelly-fishes did not make you throw every other subject to the
  dogs. Even if your experiments turn out a failure, I believe
  that there will be some compensation in the skill you will have
  acquired.

  P.S.--I have been having more correspondence with Galton about
  Pangenesis, and my confusion is more confounded with respect to
  the points in which he differs from me.


About this time Mr. Romanes made the acquaintance of Mr. Herbert
Spencer and also that of Mr. G. H. Lewes, and of the wonderful woman
known to the outer world as George Eliot, and to a small circle of
friends as Mrs. Lewes.

Mr. Romanes was one of the favoured few who were allowed to join the
charmed circle at the Priory on Sunday afternoons. He enjoyed the few
talks he had with George Eliot, and, amongst other reminiscences, he
told a characteristic story of Lewes. One afternoon, when there were
very few people at the Priory, the conversation drifted on to the
Bible, and George Eliot and Mr. Romanes began a discussion on the
merits of the two translations of the Psalms best known to English
people--the Bible and the Prayer Book version. They 'quoted' at each
other for a short time, and then Lewes, who had not his Bible at his
finger ends to the extent the other two had, exclaimed impatiently,
'Come, we've had enough of this; we might as well be in a Sunday
school.' Both George Eliot and Mr. Romanes, by the way, preferred the
Bible version.

In one of the letters to Mr. Darwin, Mr. Romanes alludes to the
question of spiritualism, and his own determination to investigate
the question so far as in him lay for himself.

He worked a good deal at spiritualism for a year or two, and he
never could assure himself that there was absolutely nothing in
spiritualism, no unknown phenomena underlying the mass of fraud,
and trickery, and vulgarity which have surrounded the so-called
manifestations.

He was always willing to investigate such subjects as hypnotism,
thought reading, &c., and in 1880 he wrote an article for the
September number of the 'Nineteenth Century.' in which he pleads for
a candid and unprejudiced investigation of the facts. The article was
a review of Heidenhain's "Der sogenannte thierische Magnetismus."

The work on Pangenesis and on Medusæ went on through 1876, and some
letters to and from Mr. Darwin are here inserted.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq., to G. J. Romanes._

  Dear Romanes.--As you are interested in Pangenesis, and will
  some day, I hope, convert an 'airy nothing' into a substantial
  theory, therefore I send by this post an essay by Häckel,
  attacking 'Pan.,' and substituting a molecular hypothesis. If I
  understand his views rightly, he would say that with a bird which
  strengthened its wings by use, the formative protoplasm of the
  strengthened parts becomes changed, and its molecular vibrations
  consequently changed, and that their vibrations are transmitted
  throughout the whole frame of the bird. How he explains reversion
  to a remote ancestor I know not. Perhaps I have misunderstood
  him, though I have skimmed the whole with some care. He lays much
  stress on inheritance being a form of unconscious memory, but how
  far this is part of his molecular vibration I do not understand.
  His views make nothing clearer to me, but this may be my fault.
  No one, I presume, would doubt about molecular movements of
  some kind. His essay is clever and striking. If you read it (but
  you must not on my account), I should much like to hear your
  judgment, and you can return it at any time.

  We have come here for rest for me, which I much needed, and shall
  remain here for about ten days more, and then home to work, which
  is my sole pleasure in life. I hope your splendid Medusæ work
  and your experiments on Pan. are going on well. I heard from my
  son Frank yesterday that he was feverish with a cold, and could
  not dine with the Physiologists, which I am very sorry for, as
  I should have heard what they think about the new Bill.[10] I
  see that you are one of the secretaries to this young society.
  I was very much gratified by the wholly unexpected honour of
  being elected one of the hon. members. This mark of sympathy has
  pleased me to a very high degree.

  Believe me, yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.

  Häckel gives reference to a paper on Pan. of which I have never
  heard.

  I fear that you will have difficulty in reading my scrawl.

  Do you know who are the other hon. members of your Society?


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin._

  Dunskaith, Nigg, Ross-shire, N.B.: June 1, 1876.

  Many thanks for your long and kind letter. Also for the
  accompanying essay. It seems to me, from your epitome of the
  latter, that if Pangenesis is 'airy,' Perigenesis must be almost
  vacuous. However, I anticipate much pleasure in reading the
  work, for anything by Häckel on such a subject cannot fail to be
  interesting.

  I am sorry to hear that you 'much needed rest,' and also about
  Frank. I had hoped, too, that you would have mentioned Mrs.
  Litchfield.

  Having been away from London for several weeks, I cannot say
  anything about the feeling with regard to the Bill. Sanderson
  and Foster think it 'stringent,' and so I suppose will all the
  Physiologists. The former wants me to write articles in the
  'Fortnightly,' 'to make people take more sensible views on
  vivisection:' but I cannot see that it would be of any use. The
  heat of battle is not the time for us to expect fanatics to
  listen to 'sense.' Do you not think so?

  I am sure the Physiological Society will be very pleased that
  you like being an hon. member, for it was on your account that
  honorary membership was instituted. At the committee meeting
  which was called to frame the constitution of the Society, the
  chairman (Dr. Foster) ejaculated with reference to you--'Let us
  pile on him all the honour we possibly can,' a sentiment which
  was heartily enough responded to by all present; but when it came
  to considering what form the expression of it was to take, it was
  found that a nascent society could do nothing further than make
  honorary members. Accordingly you were made an hon. member all
  by yourself; but later on it was thought, on the one hand, that
  you might feel lonely, and on the other that in a Physiological
  Society the most suitable companion for you was Dr. Sharpey.

  Perhaps a 'secretary' ought not to be giving all the details
  about committee meetings, but if not, I know you will take it
  in confidence. It seems to me that you never fully realise
  the height of your pedestal, so that I am glad of any little
  opportunity of this kind to show you the angle at which the
  upturned faces are inclined. I am glad, too, to see from the
  inscription in Häckel's essay, that he is still doing his
  best to show that in Germany this angle is fast being lost in
  horizontality.

  As the spring was so backward, the plants at Kew were too small
  to graft before I had to leave for the Medusæ. But this does not
  much matter, as I had a lot of vegetables planted down here also,
  which are doing well. Pangenesis I always expected would require
  a good deal of patience, and one year's work on such a subject
  only counts for apprenticeship. If, by the time I am a skilled
  workman, I am not able to send anything to the international
  exhibitions, I shall not envy any one else who may resolve to
  enter the same trade.

  I am working hard at the jelly-fish just now, and have succeeded
  in extracting several new confessions. The nerve-plexus theory,
  in particular, is coming out with greater clearness. The new
  poisons, too, are giving very interesting results. I suppose you
  do not happen to know where I could get any snake poison. The
  'Phil. Trans.' seem very long in coming out. I have not yet got
  the proofs of my paper.


  June 6, 1877.

  I am very glad you sent me the extract from Lamarck, for I had
  just been to the R.S., hunting up several of the older authors
  to see whether any mention had been made of the theory before
  Spencer wrote.

  While at Down I forgot my speculations about inter-crossing, and,
  therefore, although I do not think they are much worth, I send
  you a copy of my notes. The ideas are not clearly put--having
  been jotted down a few years ago merely to preserve them--but
  no doubt you will be able to understand them. Do not trouble to
  return the MS.

  I had intended to ask you while at Down if you happen to know
  whether stinging nettles are endemic plants in South America.
  The reason I should like to know is, that last year it occurred
  to me that the stinging property probably has reference to some
  widely distributed class of animals, and being told--rightly or
  wrongly, I do not know--that ruminants do not object to them, I
  tried whether my tame rabbits would eat freshly plucked nettles.
  I found they would not do so even when very hungry, but in the
  same out-house with the rabbits there were confined a number
  of guinea-pigs, and these always set upon the nettles with
  great avidity. Their noses were tremendously stung, however,
  so that between every few nibbles they had to stop and scratch
  vigorously. After this process had been gone through several
  times, the guinea-pig would generally become furious, and
  thinking apparently that its pain must have had some more obvious
  cause than the nettles, would fall upon its nearest neighbour
  at the feast, when a guinea-pig fight would ensue. I have seldom
  seen a more amusing spectacle than twenty or thirty of these
  animals closely packed round a bunch of nettles, a third part or
  so eating with apparent relish, another third scratching their
  noses, and the remaining third fighting with one another. But
  what I want to ask you is this. Does it not seem that the marked
  difference in the behaviour of the rabbits and the guinea-pigs
  points to inherited experience on the part of the former which
  is absent in the case of the latter? If nettles are not endemic
  in South America, this inference would seem almost irresistible.
  Dr. Hooker tells me nettles grow there now, but he does not know
  whether they did so before America was visited by Europeans.
  Possibly there might be some way of ascertaining.

  I have now made a number of grafts at Kew. In about a month, I
  should think, one could see which are coming up as single and
  which as double sprouts. If, therefore, Frank is going to work
  in the laboratory in July, he might perhaps look over the bed
  (which is just outside the door), and reject the double-stalked
  specimens. I could trust him to do this better than any one at
  Kew, and if the useless specimens were rejected, there would
  afterwards be much less trouble in protecting the valuable
  ones. But do not suggest it unless you think it would be quite
  agreeable to him. If he is in town within the next fortnight, I
  wish he would look me up.


  June 16.

  I have deferred answering your letter until having had a talk
  with Mr. Galton about rudimentary organs. He thinks with me that
  if the normal size of a useful organ is maintained in a species,
  when natural selection is removed, the average size will tend to
  become progressively reduced by inter-crossing, and this down to
  whatever extent economy of growth remains operative in placing a
  premium on variations below the average at any given stage in the
  history of reduction.

  I think I thoroughly well know your views about natural
  selection. In writing the manuscript note, so far as I remember,
  I had in view the possibility which Huxley somewhere advocates,
  that nature may sometimes make a considerable leap by selecting
  from single variations. But it was not because of this point that
  I sent you the note; it was with reference to the possibility of
  natural selection acting on organic _types_ as distinguished from
  individuals--a possibility which you once told me did not seem at
  all clear, although Wallace maintained it in conversation.

  I do not myself think that Allen[11] made out his points,
  although I do think that he has made an effort in the right
  direction. It seems to me that his fundamental principle has
  probably much truth in it, viz. that æsthetic pleasure in its
  last analysis is an effect of normal or not excessive stimulation.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq._

  Down, Beckenham, Kent: August 9.

  My dear Romanes,--I have read your two articles in 'Nature,' and
  nothing can be clearer or more interesting, though I had gathered
  your conclusions clearly from your other papers. It seems to me
  that unless you can show that your muslin (in your simile) is
  rather coarse, the transmission may be considered as passing in
  any direction from cell or unit of structure to cell or unit; and
  in this case the transmission would be as in Dionæa, but more
  easily effected in certain lines or directions than in others.
  It is splendid work, and I hope you are getting on well in all
  respects. The Mr. Lawless to whom you refer is the Hon. Miss
  Lawless, as I know, for she sent me a very good manuscript about
  the fertilisation of plants, which I have recommended her to send
  to 'Nature.'

  As for myself, Frank and I have been working like slaves on
  the bloom on plants, with very poor success; as usual, almost
  everything goes differently from what I had anticipated. But I
  have been absolutely delighted at two things: Cohn, of Breslau,
  has seen all the phenomena described by Frank in Dipsacus, and
  thinks it a very remarkable discovery, and is going to work with
  all reagents on the filaments as Frank did, but no doubt he will
  know much better how to do it. He will not pronounce whether the
  filaments are some colloid substance or living protoplasm; I
  think he rather leans to latter, and he quite sees that Frank
  does not pronounce dogmatically on the question.

  The second point which delighted me, seeing that half of the
  botanists throughout Europe have published that the digestion
  of meat by plants is of no use to them--(a mere pathological
  phenomenon as one man says!)--is that Frank has been feeding
  under exactly similar conditions a large number of plants of
  Drosera, and the effect is wonderful. On the fed side the leaves
  are much larger, differently coloured, and more numerous--flower
  stalks taller and more numerous, and, I believe, far more
  seed-capsules, but these not yet counted. It is particularly
  interesting that the leaves fed on meat contain very many more
  starch granules (no doubt owing to more protoplasm being first
  formed), so that sections stained with iodine of fed and unfed
  leaves are to the naked eye of very different colour.

  There, I have boasted to my heart's content; and do you do the
  same, and tell me what you have been doing.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  _From G. J. Romanes._

  Dunskaith, Ross-shire: August 11, 1877.

  I was very pleased to get your long and genial letter, which I
  will answer _seriatim_.

  The 'muslin' in the hypothetical plexus seems to be very coarse
  in some specimens and finer in others--the young and active
  individuals enduring severer forms of section than the old.
  And in exploring by graduated stimuli, areas of different
  degrees of excitability may be mapped out, and these areas are
  pretty large, averaging about the size of one's finger-nails.
  I am rather inclined to think that these areas are determined
  by the course of well-differentiated nerve-tracts, while the
  less-differentiated ones are probably more like muslin in their
  mesh. But the only reason why I resort to the supposition
  of nerve-tracts at all is because of the sudden blocking of
  contractile waves by section, and the fact that stimulus
  (tentacular) waves very often continue to pass after the
  contractile ones have been thus blocked.

  I am sorry I made the ungallant mistake about Miss Lawless, but I
  had no means of knowing. If I had known I should not have written
  the letter, because I am almost sure the movements of the Medusa
  were accidental, and my pointing out this source of error may be
  discouraging to a lady observer.

  I remember thinking you were too diffident about the bloom, but
  I suppose that is the advantage of experience; it keeps one from
  forming too high hopes at the first.

  The rest of your letter contains glorious news. Cohn, I suppose,
  is about the best man in Europe to take up the subject, and
  although I cannot conceive what else he can do than Frank has
  done already, it is no doubt most desirable that his opinion
  should be formed by working at the problems himself.

  The other item about the effects of feeding Drosera is really
  most important, and in particular about the starch. I have heard
  the doubts you allude to expressed in several quarters, but this
  will set them all at rest. It was just the one thing required to
  cap the work on insectivorous plants. What capital work Frank is
  doing!

  I have nothing in the way of boasting to set off against it. The
  year has been a very bad one for jelly-fish, so that sometimes I
  have not been able to work at them for several days at a time.
  The most important new observation is perhaps the following.

  [Illustration: FIG. 3.]

  Suppose a portion of Aurelia to be cut into the form of a pair
  of trousers, in such a way that a ganglion, _a_, occupies the
  bottom of one of the legs. Usually, of course, contractile
  waves starting from _a_ course along to _b_, and thence round
  to _c_ and backwards to _d_. But in one specimen I observed
  that every now and then the exact converse took place--viz. the
  contractile wave starting at _d_ to course to _c_, _b_, and _a_.
  On now excising the ganglion at _a_ both sets of contractile
  waves ceased--thus showing that even in the case where they
  started from _d_ it was the ganglion at _a_ which started them.
  This power on the part of Medusoid ganglia to discharge their
  influence at a distance from their own seat I have also observed
  in other forms of section, and it affords the best kind of
  evidence in favour of nerves.

  On the days when I could get no jelly-fish I took to star-fish.
  I want, if possible, to make out the functions of the sand-canal
  and the aviculæ; but as yet I have only discovered the
  difficulties to be overcome. I had intended to make a cell to
  cover the calcareous plate at the end of the sand-canal, and to
  fill the cell with dye, in order to test Siebold's hypothesis
  that the whole apparatus is a filter for the ambulacral system;
  but Providence seems to have specially designed that no substance
  in creation should be adapted for sticking to the back of a
  starfish.

  The aviculæ are very puzzling things. I am sure Allen is wrong
  in his hypothesis of their function being to remove parasitical
  growths; for, on the one hand, parasites are swarming around them
  unheeded, and on the other, they go snapping away apparently at
  nothing. It is more easy, however, to say what they are not than
  what they are.

  I went a few days ago to see the vine. It is now five feet
  high and vigorous, but I believe spring is the proper time for
  grafting.

  With best thanks for your 'boasting' and good wishes, I remain
  very sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq._

  Down: June 4.

  Sir Joseph Fayrer supplied me with cobra poison. It is very
  precious, but I have no doubt that by explaining your motive he
  would give you a little, and your best plan of applying would be
  through Lauder Brunton.

  Your letter has made me as proud and conceited as ten peacocks.
  I am inclined to think that writing against the bigots about
  vivisection is as hopeless as stemming a torrent with a reed.
  Frank, who has just come here, and who speaks with indignation
  on the subject, takes an opposite line, and perhaps he is right;
  anyhow he had the best of an argument with me on the subject. By
  the way, I think Frank has made a fine discovery, but I won't
  say what, for fear it should break down. It seems to me the
  Physiologists are now in the position of a persecuted religious
  sect, and they must grin and bear the persecution, however cruel
  and unjust, as well as they can.

  I shall be very glad to hear what you think about Häckel; perhaps
  I have shamefully misrepresented him. About the other subject
  (never mentioned to a human being) I shall be glad to hear, but I
  fear that I am a wretched bigot on the subject.[12]

  Yours very sincerely,
  CHARLES DARWIN.

  The rest has done me much good. We return on the 10th. My
  daughter is certainly better a good deal, but not up to her
  former poor standard.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  Dunskaith, Nigg, Ross-shire: June 11.

  We had a good laugh over some parts of your letter. I have not,
  as yet, had time to read any of Häckel's book.

  I am delighted to hear about the discovery, and hope, if it turns
  out well, to have my stimulated curiosity satisfied with regard
  to it. If it is as interesting as the observations about the
  seeds, people will think Frank a very lucky fellow to hook so
  many good fish in such a short time.

  Not having heard his arguments about the article-writing, I am
  still strongly of your opinion, and, being besides ill able to
  afford any time just now, I shall not bother with it. When I
  think that in this one county (Ross, and still more in Cromarty)
  there are more rabbits expressly bred every year for trapping
  than could be vivisected in all the physiological laboratories
  in Europe during the next thousand years, it seems hopeless
  to reason with people who, knowing such facts, expend all
  their energies in straining at a wonderfully small gnat, while
  swallowing, as an article of daily food, such an enormously large
  camel.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq._

  Down: August 10.

  Dear Romanes,--When I wrote yesterday, I had not received
  to-day's 'Nature,' and I thought that your lecture was finished.
  This final part is one of the grandest essays which I ever read.

  It was very foolish of me to demur to your lines of conveyance
  like the threads in muslin, knowing how you have considered the
  subject, but still I must confess I cannot feel quite easy. Every
  one, I suppose, thinks on what he has himself seen, and with
  Drosera, a bit of meat put on any one gland on the disc causes
  all the surrounding tentacles to bend to this point; and here
  there can hardly be differentiated lines of conveyance. It seems
  to me that the tentacles probably bend to that point whence a
  molecular wave strikes them, which passes through the cellular
  tissue with equal ease in all directions in this particular case.
  But what a fine case that of the Aurelia is!

  Forgive me for bothering you with another note.

  Yours very sincerely,
  C. DARWIN.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  Dunskaith, Ross-shire, N.B.: August 13, 1877.

  I thought you had given me quite enough praise in your first
  letter, but am not on that account the less pleased at the high
  compliment you pay me in the second one. The ending up was what
  the people at the Institution[13] seemed to like best.

  Pray do not think that I have yet made up my mind about the
  'muslin.' On the contrary, the more I work at the tissues of
  Aurelia the more puzzled I become, so that I am thankful for
  all criticisms. If Aurelia stood alone, I should be inclined to
  take your view, and attribute blocking of contractile waves in
  spiral strips, &c., to some accidental strain previously suffered
  by the tissue at the area of blocking. But the fact that in
  Tiaropsis the polypite is so quick and precise in localising a
  needle prick, seems to show that here there must be something
  more definite in the way of conducting tissue than in Drosera,
  although I confess it is most astonishing how precise the
  localising function, as described by you, is in the latter. In
  'Nature' I did not express my doubts, but it was because I feared
  there may yet turn out to be a skeleton in the cupboard that I
  kept all these more or less fishy deductions out of the R.S.
  papers. Further work may perhaps make the matter more certain
  one way or another. Possibly the microscope may show something,
  and so I have asked Schäfer to come down, who, as I know from
  experience, is what spiritualists call 'a sensitive'--I mean he
  can see ghosts of things where other people can't. But still, if
  he can make out anything in the jelly of Aurelia, I shall confess
  it to be the best case of clairvoyance I ever knew.

  I am very glad you have drawn my attention prominently to the
  localising function in Drosera, as it is very likely I have been
  too keen in my scent after nerves; and I believe it is chiefly by
  comparing lines of work that in such novel phenomena truth is to
  be got at. And this reminds me of an observation which I think
  ought to be made on some of the excitable plants. It is a fact
  not generally known, even to professed physiologists, that if you
  pass a constant current through an excised muscle two or three
  times successively in the same direction, the responses to make
  and break become much more feeble than at first, so that unless
  you began with a strong current for the first of the series,
  you have to strengthen it for the third or fourth of the series
  in order to procure a contraction. But on now reversing the
  direction of the current, the muscle is tremendously excitable
  for the first stimulation, less so for the second, and so on.
  Now this rapidly exhausting effect of passing the current
  successively in the same direction, and the wonderful effect of
  reversing it, point, I believe, to something very fundamental in
  the constitution of muscular tissue. The complementary effects
  in question are quite as decided in the jelly-fish as in frog's
  muscle; so I think it would be very interesting to try the
  experiment on the contractile tissues of plants. But there are so
  many things to write about that I am afraid of 'bothering you,'
  and this with much more reason that you can have to be afraid of
  'bothering' me.

  Aurelia is, as you say, 'a fine case,' and I often wish you could
  see the experiments.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


The leading Physiologists felt the importance of co-operation and of
alliance, and a society entitled the Physiological Society was formed
of which Mr. Romanes and Professor Gerald Yeo were the first honorary
secretaries.

In 1876 Mr. Romanes made his first appearance at the British
Association; he recounts his experiences in the following letter.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  British Association, Glasgow: Monday, 1876.

  My dearest Puffin,--I have received all your letters, and had a
  good laugh over them; it is evident that I must get back soon to
  pilot the way. We shall indeed have a jolly time.

  I have just got out from the section room, and my work is over. I
  had a splendid audience both as to number and quality.

  When I had finished, all the great guns had their say, Professor
  Häckel leading off with a tremendous eulogium on the work, laying
  special stress on the great difficulty of conducting an inquiry
  of the kind, and complimenting me highly on the success obtained.
  Sanderson then made a long speech, and then Stirling and Balfour,
  &c.

  The latter stated it as his opinion that my investigation is the
  most important that has as yet been conducted in any department
  of invertebrate physiology. The discussion was then cut short
  by the president to leave time for the other papers, my own
  exposition having taken so long. I replied briefly.


Shortly after this, Mr. Romanes delivered a lecture on the Evidences
of Organic Evolution, which he reprinted in the 'Fortnightly,' and
afterwards worked up into a little book called 'The Scientific
Evidences of Organic Evolution.' About this lecture Mr. Darwin
wrote:--


  Down.

  My dear Romanes,--I have just finished your lecture. It is an
  admirable scientific argument and most powerful. I wish that it
  could be sown broadcast throughout the land. Your courage is
  marvellous, and I wonder that you were not stoned on the spot.
  And in Scotland! Do please tell me how it was received in the
  Lecture Hall. About man being made like a monkey (p. 37) is
  quite new to me; and the argument in an earlier place on the law
  of parsimony admirably put. Yes, p. 21 is new to me. All strikes
  me as very clear, and considering small space you have chosen
  your lines of reasoning excellently.

  But I am tired, so good night!
  C. DARWIN.

  The few last pages are awfully powerful in my opinion.

  Sunday Morning.--The above was written last night in an
  enthusiasm of the moment, and now this dark, dismal Sunday
  morning I fully agree with what I said.

  I am very sorry to hear about the failure in the graft
  experiments, and not from your own fault or ill-luck. Trollope,
  in one of his novels, gives us a maxim of constant use by a
  brick-maker, 'It is dogged as does it!' and I have often and
  often thought this is the motto for every scientific worker.
  I am sure it is yours if you do not give up Pangenesis with
  wicked imprecations. By the way, G. Jäger has just brought out
  in 'Kosmos' a chemical sort of Pangenesis, bearing chiefly on
  inheritance.

  I cannot conceive why I have not offered my garden for your
  experiments. I would _attend_ to the plants, as far as mere care
  goes, with pleasure, but Down is an awkward place to reach.

  C. D.

  (Would it be worth while to try if the 'Fortnightly' would
  publish it?)


To this Mr. Romanes replied:


  18 Cornwall Terrace: Dec. 2, 1877.

  It was most kind of you to write me such a long and glowing
  letter. In one way it is a good thing that all the world are
  not so big-hearted as yourself--it would make young men awfully
  conceited. Yet I value your opinion more than the opinion of
  anybody, because in other things I have always found your
  judgment more deep and sound than anybody's. However, I will go
  to Huxley next Saturday for an antidote, as it is quite true
  what he said about himself at Cambridge, that he is not given to
  making panegyrics.

  On the whole, as I have said, I was surprised how well it was
  taken. And still more so in Yorkshire last week--where I was
  lecturing at Leeds and Halifax on Medusæ, and took occasion to
  wind up about you and your degree. I was perfectly astonished at
  the reception you got among such popular audiences. What a change
  you have lived to see! If ever human being had a right to cry
  '_Vici_'--but you know it all better than I do.

  About the grafts, I thought it most natural that you should not
  like the bother of having them done at Down, when there are such
  a multitude of other gardens belonging to do-nothing people.
  But as you have mentioned it, I may suggest that in the case of
  onions there is a difficulty in all the gardens I know--viz.,
  that they are more or less infested with onion worms. If,
  therefore, you should know any part of your garden where onions
  have not grown for some years, I might do the grafts here in
  pots, and bring the promising ones to plant out at Down in May.
  Seed could then be saved in the following autumn. All the other
  plants could be grown in the other gardens, and well attended to.

  That is a very interesting letter in 'Nature.' What do you think
  of Dr. Sanderson's paper in the same number, as to its philosophy
  and expression? I have sent a letter about animal psychology
  which I think will interest you.

  With kind regards to all, I remain, very sincerely and most
  respectfully (this is a bow which I specially reserve for you,
  and would make it lower, but for the fear of making myself
  ridiculous),

  GEO. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--I fear Mr. Morley would think my lecture too long, and not
  original enough for the 'Fortnightly.'[14]


Early in the year 1878, a great sorrow fell on the Romanes family.
The elder of the two sisters, Georgina, died in April, and to her
brother, her junior by two or three years, her loss was very great.
She was a brilliant musician, and had done much to prevent her young
brother from becoming too entirely absorbed in science, and in
keeping alive in him the passionate love for music which was always
one of his characteristics.

They went much together to concerts, and the house was the centre of
a good deal of musical society. Among the many musicians who came and
went may be mentioned Gounod. He had a great admiration and liking
for Miss Romanes, and used to make her sing to him. And also there
was Dr. Joachim who with characteristic kindness came in the last
days of Georgina's life and played, as only he can play, to her.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: April 10, 1878.

  Many thanks for your kind expressions of sympathy. When the
  sad event occurred I had some thoughts of sending you an
  announcement; but as you had scarcely ever seen my sister, I
  afterwards felt that you might think it superfluous in me to let
  you know.

  The blow is indeed felt by us to be one of dire severity, the
  more so because we only had about a fortnight's warning of its
  advent. My sister did not pass through much suffering, but there
  was something painfully pathetic about her death, not only
  because she was so young and had always been so strong, but
  also because the ties of affection by which she was bound to
  us, and we to her, were more than ordinarily tender. And when
  in her delirium she reverted to the time when our positions
  were reversed, and when by weeks and months of arduous heroism
  she saved my life by constant nursing--upon my word it was
  unbearable.[15] The blank which her death has created in our
  small family is very distressing. She always used to be so proud
  of my work that I feel that half the pleasure of working will
  now be gone--but I do not know why I am running on like this.
  Of course it will give me every pleasure to go to Down before
  leaving for Scotland. If you have no preference about time, I
  suppose it would be best to go when you return home in May, as
  the onions might possibly be then ready for grafting. Unless,
  therefore, I hear from you to the contrary, I shall write again
  some time between the middle and end of May.


Then came a second appearance at the British Association. Mr. Romanes
was asked to deliver one of the evening lectures at the meeting of
1878, which took place at Dublin.

The subject was animal intelligence, and seems to have excited a good
deal of attention. The following letters relate to the lecture and to
his book on Animal Intelligence:


  _To C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: June 18.

  Very many thanks for your permission to use your observations, as
  well as for the additional information which you have supplied.
  If all the manuscript chapter on instinct is of the same quality
  as the enclosed portion, it must be very valuable. Time will
  prevent me from treating very fully of instinct in my lecture,
  but when I come to write the book for the International Science
  Series on Comparative Psychology, I shall try to say all that I
  can on instinct. Your letter, therefore, induces me to say that I
  hope your notes will be published somewhere before my book comes
  out (_i.e._ within a year or so), or, if you have no intention of
  publishing the notes, that you would, as you say, let me read the
  manuscript, as the references, &c., would be much more important
  for the purposes of the book than for those of the lecture. But,
  of course, I should not ask to publish your work in my book,
  unless you have no intention of publishing it yourself. I do not
  know why you have kept it so long unpublished, and your having
  offered me the manuscript for preparing my lecture makes me think
  that you might not object to lending it me for preparing my book.
  But please understand that I only think this on the supposition
  that, from its unsuitable length, isolated character, or other
  reason, you do not see your way to publishing the chapter
  yourself.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq._

  Down: June 19.

  My dear Romanes,--You are quite welcome to have my longer
  chapter on instinct. It was abstracted for the Origin. I have
  never had time to work it up in a state fit for publication,
  and it is so much more interesting to observe than to write.
  It is very unlikely that I should ever find time to prepare my
  several long chapters for publication, as the material collected
  since the publication of the Origin has been so enormous. But I
  have sometimes thought that when incapacitated for observing,
  I would look over my manuscripts, and see whether any deserved
  publication. You are, therefore, heartily welcome to use it, and
  should you desire to do so at any time, inform me and it shall be
  sent.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CHARLES DARWIN.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: June 21, 1878.

  I am of course very glad to hear that you have no objection to
  letting me have the benefit of consulting your notes.

  Most observers are in a frantic hurry to publish their work,
  but what you say about your own feelings seems to me very
  characteristic. Like the bees, you ought to have some one to take
  the honey, when you make it to give to the world--not, however,
  that I want to play the part of a thieving wasp. I will send you
  my manuscript about instinct (or the proofs when out), and you
  can strike out anything that you would rather publish yourself.

  I shall not be able to begin my book till after the jelly-fish
  season is over. This will be in September or October; but I will
  let you know when I want to read up about instinct.

  With very many thanks, I remain, yours very sincerely and most
  respectfully,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  The Palace, Dublin: August 17, 1878.

  Your letter and enclosure about the geese arrived the day after I
  left Dunskaith, but have been forwarded here, which accounts for
  my delay in answering, for I only arrived in Dublin a few days
  ago.

  I am sorry to hear about the onions, and can only quote the
  beatitude which is particularly applicable to a worker in
  science, Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall not
  be disappointed.

  But I am still more sorry to hear of your feeling knocked up. I
  meet your son here, who tells me about you.

  Yesterday was the evening of my big lecture, and I send you a
  copy as well as a newspaper account. (The latter was in type
  before delivery, and so no 'applauses,' &c. are put in.) The
  thing was a most enormous success, far surpassing my utmost
  expectations. I had a number of jokes which do not appear in
  the printed lecture, and I never saw an audience laugh so much.
  The applause also was really extraordinary, especially at some
  places, and most of all at the mention of your name at the grand
  _finale_. In fact, it was here tremendous, and a most impressive
  sight to see such a multitude of people so enthusiastic. I
  expected an outburst, but the loud and long-continued cheering
  beat anything that ever I heard before. I do not know whether
  your son was there, but if so he will tell you.

  Hooker, Huxley, Allen, and Sir W. Thomson, Flower, D. Galton,
  and a lot of other good men were present, and had nothing but
  praise to give, Captain Galton going so far as to say that it
  was the most successful lecture he had ever heard. So I am quite
  conceited.

  Ever your devoted worshipper,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq._

  August 20, 1878.

  My dear Romanes,--I am most heartily glad that your lecture (just
  received and read) has been so eminently successful. You have
  indeed passed a most magnificent eulogium on me, and I wonder
  that you were not afraid of hearing 'Oh! oh!' or some other sign
  of disapprobation. Many persons think that what I have done
  in science has been much overrated, and I very often think so
  myself; but my comfort is that I have never consciously done
  anything to gain applause. Enough and too much about my dear
  self. The sole fault that I find with your lecture is that it is
  too short, and this is a rare fault. It strikes me as admirably
  clear and interesting. I meant to have remonstrated that you
  had not discussed sufficiently the necessity of signs for the
  formation of abstract ideas of any complexity, and then I came
  on to the discussion on deaf mutes. This latter seems to me one
  of the richest of all the mines, and is worth working carefully
  for years and very deeply. I should like to read whole chapters
  on this one head, and others on the minds of the higher idiots.
  Nothing can be better, as it seems to me, than your several lines
  or sources of evidence, and the manner in which you have arranged
  the whole subject. Your book will assuredly be worth years of
  hard labour, and stick to your subject. By the way, I was pleased
  at your discussing the selection of varying instincts or mental
  tendencies, for I have often been disappointed by no one ever
  having noticed this notion.

  I have just finished _La Psychologie, son présent et son avenir_,
  1876, by Delbœuf (a mathematician and physicist of Belgium), in
  about one hundred pages; it has interested me a good deal, but
  why I hardly know; it is rather like Herbert Spencer; if you do
  not know it, and would care to see it, send me a post-card.

  Thank Heaven we return home on Thursday, and I shall be able to
  go on with my humdrum work, and that makes me forget my daily
  discomfort.

  Have you ever thought of keeping a young monkey,[16] so as to
  observe its mind? At a house where we have been staying there
  were Sir A. and Lady Hobhouse, not long ago returned from India,
  and she and he kept three young monkeys, and told me some curious
  particulars. One was that the monkey was very fond of looking
  through her eyeglass at objects, and moved the glass nearer and
  further so as to vary the focus. This struck me, as Frank's son,
  nearly two years old (and we think much of his intellect!), is
  very fond of looking through my pocket lens, and I have quite in
  vain endeavoured to teach him not to put the glass close down on
  the object, but he will always do so. Therefore I conclude that a
  child just under two years is inferior in intellect to a monkey.

  Once again I heartily congratulate you on your well-earned
  present and I feel assured grand future success.

  Yours very truly,
  CH. DARWIN.

  P.S. 28th.--Can you spare time to come down here any day this
  week, except Saturday, to dine and sleep here? We should be very
  glad indeed if you can come. If so, I would suggest your leaving
  Charing Cross by the 4.12 train, and we would send a carriage to
  Orpington to meet you, and send you back next morning. In this
  case let us have a line fixing your day. It will be dull for you,
  for none of my sons except Frank are at home.


The extraordinary modesty, the absolute simplicity, the fatherly
kindness, which breathe in this letter, cannot but give some idea of
what Mr. Darwin was and why he was so much loved.


  Dunskaith, Ross-shire: August 29, 1878.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--I only returned here yesterday and found
  your letter awaiting me.

  Your letter has made me as proud as Punch, and as you have such
  a good opinion of the line of work, I think I shall adopt your
  plan of working up the subject well before I publish the book.
  The greatest difficulty I had in writing the lecture was to make
  it _short enough_, but it will be splendid to be able to spread
  oneself over the whole subject in a book. I was at one time in
  doubt whether it would be better to spend time over this subject
  or over something more purely physiological, but of late I had
  begun to incline towards the former, and your opinion has now
  settled mine.

  I have not previously heard of the book by the Belgian physicist,
  and should much like to read it. I have already such a number of
  your books that I fear you must sometimes miss them; but I can
  return any of them at a minute's notice.

  I had thought of keeping a monkey and teaching its young ideas
  how to shoot, and wrote to Frank Buckland for his advice as to
  the best kind to get, but he has never answered my letter. The
  case about the lens is a capital one.

  I have such a host of letters to answer, which have accumulated
  during my absence, that I must make this a short one. Your
  'congratulations' are of more value to me than any of the others,
  and I thank you for them much.

  Ever your devoted disciple,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--Science is not a world where a man need trouble himself
  about getting more credit than is due.


  _From C. Darwin._

  Down: Sept. 2, 1878.

  My dear Romanes,--Many thanks for your letter. I am delighted to
  hear that you mean to work the comparative psychology well. I
  thought your letter to the 'Times' very good indeed. Bartlett, at
  the Zoological Gardens, I feel sure, would advise you infinitely
  better about hardiness, intellect, price, &c., of monkeys than F.
  Buckland, but with him it must be _vivâ voce_.

  Frank says you ought to keep an idiot, a deaf mute, a monkey, and
  a baby in your house!

  Ever yours sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  Dunskaith, Ross-shire, N.B.: Sept. 10, 1878.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--Having been away for a week's deer-stalking
  in the hills, I have only to-day received your letter together
  with the book. Thank you very much for both, and also for the
  hints about Espinas and Bartlett. I am glad you thought well of
  the letter to the 'Times.' In a book I shall be able to make more
  evident what I mean.

  Frank's idea of 'a happy family' is a very good one; but I think
  my mother would begin to wish that my scientific inquiries had
  taken some other direction.

  The baby too, I fear, would stand a poor chance of showing itself
  the fittest in the struggle for existence.

  I am now going to write my concluding paper on Medusæ, also to
  try some experiments on luminosity of marine animals.

  Ever sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


In addition to other scientific and purely philosophical work, Mr.
Romanes had, even while writing his Burney Prize, entered on that
period of conflict between faith and scepticism which grew more and
more strenuous, more painful, as the years went on, which never
really ceased until within a few weeks of his death, and which was
destined to end in a chastened, a purified, and a victorious faith.
His was a religious nature, keenly alive to religious emotion,
profoundly influenced by Christian ideals, by Christian modes of
thought. As time went on he felt, like all philosophically minded
men, the impossibility of a purely materialistic position, and as he
pondered on the final, ultimate mysteries, on[17] 'God, Immortality,
Duty,' he arrived very slowly, very painfully, but very surely, at
the Christian position.

But these years were, to him and to many, years of peculiar and of
extraordinary difficulty. Roughly speaking, the time between 1860 and
1880 was a time of great perplexity to those who wished to adhere to
the faith of Christendom.

It is impossible to exaggerate the influence which Mr. Darwin's great
work has had on every department of science, of literature, and also
of art. Thirty-six years have passed away since the publication of
the 'Origin of Species,' and we have lived to see that again _tempora
mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_. Now we see that a man can fully
accept the doctrine of evolution, and yet can also believe in a
personal God and in the doctrines which logically follow on such a
belief. But it was not so at first. To many on both sides the new
teaching seemed to threaten destruction to Theism, at least to Theism
as understood either by Newman or by Martineau.

Again, in philosophy Herbert Spencer seemed to many to have
constructed a lasting system of philosophy, a system sufficient to
account for all things in heaven, in earth, and under the earth.
And German criticism seemed to many to be rapidly destroying the
credibility of the early documents of Christianity.

Many a noble soul made shipwreck of its faith, nor is this disaster
wonderful. For popular theology had made many unwise, many untenable
claims, and the ground had to be cleared before the battle could be
fought out on its real issues. There were some who, amidst all the
strife of tongues, kept their heads, remembered bygone storms, and
did not lose their courage, their whole-heartedness, but they were
few, and were not over much heard or heeded.[18] For the most part,
those on the Christian side adopted the line taken by the Bishop
of Oxford in his review of Mr. Darwin's 'Origin of Species' in the
'Quarterly Review,' and in his famous speech at Oxford during the
British Association of 1860.

Certainly the outlook now is more encouraging than it was twenty
years ago.

It has been well and eloquently said by one than whom none is
more qualified to speak on this subject:[19] 'It is quite certain
that this scientific obstacle has been, in the main, removed. In
part, it has been through the theologians abandoning false claims,
and learning, if somewhat unwillingly, that they have no "Bible
revelation" in matters of science; in part, it has been through its
becoming continually more apparent, that the limits of scientific
"explanation" of nature are soon reached; that the ultimate causes,
forces, conditions of nature are as unexplained as ever, or rather
postulate as ever for their explanation a Divine mind. Thus, if
one "argument from design" was destroyed, another was only brought
into prominence. No account which science can give, by discovery or
conjecture, of the method of creation, can ever weaken the argument
which lies from the universality of law, order, and beauty in the
universe to the universality of mind. The mind of man looks forth
into nature, and finds nowhere unintelligible chance, but everywhere
an order, a system, a law, a beauty, which corresponds, as greater
to less, to his own rational and spiritual intuitions, methods, and
expectations. Universal order, intelligibility, beauty, mean that
something akin to the human spirit, something of which the human
spirit is an offshoot and a reflection, is in the universe before it
is in man.

'Or, again, a prolonged period of controversy and reflection has
resulted in making it fairly apparent that no scientific doctrine
or conjecture about the dim origins of the spiritual life of man
can affect the argument from its development and persistence. It
has developed and persisted, as one of the most prominent features
of human life, solely on the postulate of God. And is it not out
of analogy with all that science teaches us to imagine that so
important, continuous, and universal a development of human faculty
could have arisen and persisted unless it were in correspondence with
reality?

'In fact we may almost say that the obstacles to belief on the side
of science were gone when once it was admitted that God Who has
revealed to us His nature and ours, and made this revelation in part
through an historical process and in the literature of a nation,
has yet, and for obvious reasons, given us no revelation at all on
matters which fall within the domain of scientific research.

'A similar removal of obstacles must be claimed in the region of
historical criticism. There, again, it has become apparent that,
whatever turns out true about this or that Old Testament narrative,
no question really vital to the Christian religion can be said to be
at stake in this field; while in the region of the New Testament the
most sifting criticism has had a result emphatically reassuring. The
critical evidence justifies, or more than justifies, the belief of
the Church which is expressed in her Creeds.'

But this has been a hard-won fight for most--

    'Friends, companions, and train
    The avalanche swept from our side,'[20]

and no one felt the strain, the positive agony of soul, in greater
degree than did George Romanes. Step by step he abandoned the
position he had maintained in his Burney Prize, with no great pauses,
rather, as it seems, with startling rapidity, and with sad and with
reluctant backward glances he took up a position of agnosticism,
for a time almost of materialism. He wrote a book, published in
1876, which was entitled 'A Candid Examination of Theism.' It is
almost needless to discuss the work, as it has been dealt with by
its author in his posthumous 'Thoughts on Religion.' It is an able
piece of work, and is marked throughout by a lofty spirit, a profound
sadness, and a belief (which years after he criticised sharply) in
the exclusive light of the scientific method in the Court of Reason.

His education had been on strictly scientific lines, and the
limitations of thought produced by such education are clearly
seen in that essay; 'limitations' which the philosophical and the
metaphysical tendencies of his mind soon led him to overstep.

The reaction against the conclusions of the essay set in far sooner
than has been at all suspected. Perhaps the first published mark of
reaction is the Rede Lecture[21] of 1885.

Yet anyone who reads carefully the conclusion of the 'Candid
Examination'[22] will see the note of 'longing and thirsting for God.'

There are many who abandon belief for various reasons, and who in
various methods stifle regret and call in stoicism to their aid.
There are those who really care very little about the 'ultimate
problems,' and who find the world of sense quite enough to occupy
them. And there are souls who seem to be constantly crying out in
their darkness for light, the burden of whose cry seems to be:
'_Fecisti nos ad te, Domine, et inquietum est cor nostrum donec
requiescat in te._' These last have within them the capacity for
holiness, the capacity for a real and tremendous power to witness for
the truth, to do and to suffer _pro causa Dei_. To this class George
Romanes belonged. By nature he was deeply and truly religious, and
interested and absorbed as he was in science, it is no exaggeration
to say he was just as keenly interested in theology, that is to say,
in the deepest and ultimate problems of theology. By the questions
which divide Christians he was not greatly attracted, and he never
could see any reason for the bitterness which exists between _e.g._
Roman and Anglican.

This is anticipating. In 1878 he had touched the very depths of
scepticism, and he would have rejected the idea of a possibility of
return, and would have rejected it in terms of unmeasured regret.

A letter from Mr. Darwin is interesting.


  Down: December 5, 1878.

  My dear Romanes,--I am much pleased to send my photograph to the
  future Mrs. Romanes.

  I have read your anonymous book--some parts twice over--with
  very great interest; it seems admirably, and here and there very
  eloquently written, but from not understanding metaphysical
  terms I could not always follow you. For the sake of outsiders,
  if there is another edition, could you make it clear what is
  the difference between treating a subject under a 'scientific,'
  'logical,' 'symbolical,' and 'formal' point of views or manner?
  With regard to your great leading idea, I should like sometimes
  to hear from you verbally (for to answer would be too long for
  letters) what you would say if a theologian addressed you as
  follows:

  'I grant you the attraction of gravity, persistence of force
  (or conservation of energy), and one kind of matter, though the
  latter is an immense admission; but I maintain that God must
  have given such attributes to this force, independently of its
  persistence, that under certain conditions it develops or changes
  into light, heat, electricity, galvanism, perhaps even life.

  'You cannot prove that force (which physicists define as that
  which causes motion) would inevitably thus change its character
  under the above conditions. Again I maintain that matter,
  though it may in the future be eternal, was created by God with
  the most marvellous affinities, leading to complex definite
  compounds and with polarities leading to beautiful crystals,
  &c. &c. You cannot prove that matter would necessarily possess
  these attributes. Therefore you have no right to say that you
  have "demonstrated" that all natural laws necessarily follow
  from gravity, the persistence of force, and existence of matter.
  If you say that nebulous matter existed aboriginally and from
  eternity with all its present complex powers in a potential
  state, you seem to me to beg the whole question.'

  Please observe it is not I, but a theologian who has thus
  addressed you, but I could not answer him. In your present
  'idiotic' state of mind, you will wish me at the devil for
  bothering you.[23]

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park: Sunday, Dec. 1878.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--Many thanks for your portrait--not only from
  myself but also from the 'future Mrs. Romanes.'

  I am glad that you think well of the literary style of the book
  on Theism. As regards the remarks of the supposed theologian, I
  have no doubt that he is entitled to them. The only question is
  whether I have been successful in making out that _all_ natural
  cases must reasonably be supposed to follow from the conservation
  of energy. If so, as the transmutations of energy from heat to
  electricity &c. all take place in accordance with law, and as the
  phenomena of polarity in crystals &c. do the same, it follows
  that neither these nor any other class of phenomena afford any
  better evidence of Deity than do any other class of phenomena.
  Therefore, if all laws follow from the persistence of force, the
  question of Deity or no Deity would simply become the question
  as to whether force requires to be created or is self-existent.
  And if we say it is created, the fact of self-existence still
  requires to be met in the Creator.

  Of course it may be denied that all laws do follow from the
  persistence of force. And this is what I mean by the distinction
  between a scientific and a logical proof. For in the last resort
  all _scientific_ proof goes upon the assumption that energy is
  permanent, so that if from this assumption all natural laws
  and processes admit of being deduced, it follows that for a
  scientific cosmology no further assumption is required; all the
  phenomena of Nature receive their last or ultimate _scientific_
  explanation in this the most ultimate of scientific hypotheses.
  But now _logic_ may come in and say, 'This hypothesis of the
  persistence of force is no doubt verified and found constantly
  true within the range of science (_i.e._ experience), so that
  thus far it is not only an hypothesis but a fact. But before
  logic can consent to allow this ultimate fact of science to be
  made the ultimate basis of all cosmology, I must be shown that it
  _is_ ultimate, not merely in relation to human modes of research,
  but also in a sense absolute to all else.'

  But the more I think about the whole thing the more am I
  convinced that you put it into a nutshell when you were here,
  and that there is about as much use in trying to illuminate
  the subject with the light of intellect as there would be in
  trying to illuminate the midnight sky with a candle. I intend,
  therefore, to drop it, and to take the advice of the poet,
  'Believe it not, regret it not, but wait it out, O Man.'

  G. J. R.

  I return the papers, having taken down the references. The books
  I shall return when read, but honey-mooning may prolong the time.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Robert, the second son, died in childhood.

[2] Dr. Brydon resided on a small but beautiful property overlooking
the Cromarty Firth, and, after his death, Dr. Romanes rented the
place from its owners, who were distant cousins of Mrs. Romanes, in
order that 'George might have some shooting.'

[3] His younger sister records an odd experience of hers. At the
time of her brother's accident she was travelling in Spain with
her father and sister, and one day was taken suddenly ill, became
slightly delirious, and expressed great anxiety on George's account.
Afterwards, on comparing notes, it was found that the time of his
accident coincided with that of her illness.

[4] Mr. Cautley writes: 'I have never seen Romanes, under the
greatest provocation, out of temper. Always gentle, always kind,
never overbearing ... never forgetful of friends.'

[5] Prof. E. R. Lankester in _Nature_, May 1894.

[6] But he also communicated a paper to the Royal Society entitled,
'The Influence of Injury on the Excitability of Motor Nerves.' Of
this paper Professor Burdon Sanderson says that the observations were
made with great care, and that the new facts recorded have been fully
confirmed by later observers. This work was done at Cambridge.

[7] The following extract from 'An Examination of Weismannism,' pp.
2, 3, will possibly explain the theory of Pangenesis, which assumes:

1. That all the component cells of a multicellular organism throw off
inconceivably minute germs, or 'gemmules,' which are then dispersed
throughout the whole system.

2. That these gemmules, when so dispersed and supplied with proper
nutriment, multiply by self-division, and, under suitable conditions,
are capable of developing into physiological cells like those from
which they were originally and severally derived.

3. That, while still in this gemmular condition, these cell-seeds
have for one another a mutual affinity, which leads to their being
collected from all parts of the system by the reproductive glands of
the organism; and that, when so collected, they go to constitute the
essential material of the sexual elements--ova and spermatozoa being
thus aggregated packets of gemmules, which have emanated from all the
cells of all the tissues of the organism.

4. That the development of a new organism out of the fusion of
two such packets of gemmules is due to a summation of all the
developments of some of the gemmules which these two packets contain.

5. That a large proportional number of the gemmules in each packet,
however, fail to develop, and are then transmitted in a dormant
state to future generations, in any of which they may be developed
subsequently, thus giving rise to the phenomena of reversion or
atavism.

6. That in all cases the development of gemmules into the form
of their parent cells depends on their suitable union with other
partially developed gemmules which precede them in the regular course
of growth.

7. That gemmules are thrown off by all physiological cells, not only
during the adult state of the organism, but during all stages of
its development. Or, in other words, that the production of these
cell-seeds depends upon the adult condition of parent cells, not upon
that of the multicellular organism as a whole.

[8] The experiments in graft-hybridisation were to prove that
formative material (or gemmules) was actually present in the general
tissues of plants and was capable of uniting with the gemmules of
another plant and thus of reproducing the entire organism. For if
the hybrid, afterwards produced, presents equally the characters
of the scion and the stock, then formative material must have been
present in the tissues of the scion, and it is demonstrated that the
somatic tissues of the scion have exercised an effect on the germinal
elements of the stock, inasmuch as it has caused their offspring in
part to resemble it. Such facts Romanes considered to be fully in
harmony with the theory of Pangenesis, and inconsistent with any
theory which supposes that _no_ part of the parent organism generates
_any_ of the formative material.

[9] To the Royal Society.

[10] For the Suppression of Vivisection.

[11] Mr. Grant Allen.

[12] Spiritualism.

[13] He had just lectured at the Royal Institution.

[14] It was subsequently published in the _Fortnightly_.

[15] He refers to the attack of typhoid fever in 1873.

[16] Mr. Romanes carried out this suggestion, or rather his sister,
Miss C. E. Romanes, did; she kept a monkey for observation for
several months, as is recorded at p. 484 of 'Animal Intelligence.'

[17] Cf. F. Myers's 'Essay on George Eliot,' Modern Essays, p. 269.

[18] Cf. 'Life and Letters of Dean Church,' p. 154.

[19] 'Buying up the Opportunity,' a sermon by the Rev. C. Gore,
preached before the University of Oxford, and published by the
S.P.C.K.

[20] 'Rugby Chapel', M. Arnold.

[21] Now republished in a book called 'Mind and Motion.'

[22] And forasmuch as I am far from being able to agree with those
who affirm that the twilight doctrine of the 'new faith' is a
desirable substitute for the waning splendour of 'the old,' I am
not ashamed to confess that with this virtual negation of God the
universe to me has lost its soul of loveliness; and although from
henceforth the precept to 'work while it is day' will doubtless but
gain an intensified force from the terribly intensified meaning of
the words that 'the night cometh when no man can work,' yet when at
times I think, as think at times I must, of the appalling contrast
between the hallowed glory of that creed which once was mine, and the
lonely mystery of existence as now I find it, at such times I shall
ever feel it impossible to avoid the sharpest pang of which my nature
is susceptible. For whether it be due to my intelligence not being
sufficiently advanced to meet the requirements of the age, or whether
it be due to the memory of those sacred associations which to me at
least were the sweetest that life has given, I cannot but feel that
for me, and for others who think as I do, there is a dreadful truth
in those words of Hamilton, philosophy having become a meditation not
merely of death but of annihilation, the precept _know thyself_ has
become transformed into the terrific oracle to Œdipus--

    'Mayest thou ne'er know the truth of what thou art.'


[23] He was engaged to be married.




CHAPTER II

LONDON, 1879-1890


Mr. Romanes married, on February 11, 1879, Ethel, only daughter of
Andrew Duncan, Esq., of Liverpool, whom he had met at the house of
her cousin and guardian, Sir James Malcolm, of Balbedie and Grange,
Fifeshire.

From 1879 to 1890 Mr. Romanes resided in 18 Cornwall Terrace, which
his mother gave up to him, and these eleven years were perhaps the
brightest and most fruitful of his life.

It is difficult to give any just idea of the extreme happiness and
pleasantness of the home life and of outward circumstances; happiness
which only seemed to increase as years went on. He grew more boyish,
more playful, and seemed to have an endless capacity for enjoyment,
for friendship, for happiness of the best and purest kind.

He greatly enjoyed society, and had full opportunities for seeing the
kind he liked best, the cream of the intellectual world of London,
and perhaps one may be allowed to say that no one was ever more
unspoilt by success, by popularity. He seemed to grow more simple,
more single-hearted each year.

The amount of work he did was very considerable. His books, 'Animal
Intelligence,' 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' 'Mental Evolution in
Man,' 'Jelly-Fish and Star-Fish,' 'Darwin and after Darwin,' 'An
Examination of Weismannism,' represent an enormous amount of reading
and thought; and besides all these, there was experimental work in
University College and in his own laboratory in Scotland, and a
succession of important articles in reviews, chiefly the 'Nineteenth
Century,' 'Fortnightly' and 'Contemporary' Reviews, and 'Nature.'[24]

It would be quite absurd to deny that Mr. Romanes liked a fair and
free fight, and there was a good deal of scientific controversy,
but he was absolutely incapable of anything but fairness, and never
imported into private life any quarrel in print. He had plenty of
stiff fights, chiefly with Mr. Thiselton-Dyer, Professor Lankester,
and Mr. Wallace, but the first two were always his friends, and with
the latter he had a very slight acquaintance. The following letter,
though it belongs to a later date, will show his feelings on the
subject of controversy:


  Christ Church, Oxford.

  Dear Professor Meldola,--I trust that our differences--and
  _disagreements_--as presented in 'Nature,' will not disturb our
  relations in private. Anyhow, I send the inclosed circular, which
  I am addressing to English biologists, and hope you will testify
  to your desire for 'facts' by signing the memorial.

  Yours truly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.

He lectured a good deal in provincial towns, and gave several Friday
evening discourses at the Royal Institution. Lecturing, even in days
of failing health, was always a pleasure, never a burden to him.
The following letter is a mock triumphant description of a lecture
in Glasgow, written purely to amuse his wife, and provoke some mock
depreciatory remarks.


  Glasgow: 1880.

  Now for my news. Everything was splendid, much the best thing in
  the way of lecturing that I have done since Dublin,[25] and I was
  so sorry that you were not there.

  First of all we had a dinner given by my host in my honour, the
  guests being all the chief men in the University, including
  Professor Caird[26] and the biggest of all big swells, Sir W.
  Thomson.[27]

  The dinner was to me highly interesting, as I talked nearly all
  the time to Sir William, who is a wonderful psychological study.

  We then went to the lecture, where Sir William took the chair,
  and introduced me to the audience with such a glowing oration
  that it would have startled you. (It quite astonished me.)
  The audience being thus led to suppose that I was one of the
  brightest of all bright lights, received me very warmly; I got
  enthusiastic, discarded my notes, and swam along in the most
  magnificent style even for me, which, you know, is the highest
  praise I can bestow upon myself. I spoke for an hour and a half;
  at the end the people applauded so, I felt really awfully sorry
  you were not there. There seems to be a cruel fate preventing you
  from witnessing my performances.

  The vote of thanks was proposed by Professor McKendrick. I was
  met by another storm of applause; I began to feel quite overcome.
  But I said a few words with all becoming humility, and then Sir
  William summed up.


Here is an affectionate outburst to his mother, written about this
time:


    'When thou art feeble, old, and grey,
    My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
                          My mother.'

  _When._ But you are not yet either so feeble, old, or grey as to
  make me imagine that you have lost a needful prop in the absence
  of your 'peerless son!' And I am sure you are not more proud of
  him than he is of you. With your eyes as bright as the bright
  starlight, and your face as ruddy as the morning, I am glad you
  are _my_ mother.


In 1881 Mr. Romanes was at Garvock, Perthshire. And he was for a
short time also at Oban, working with his friend Professor Ewart
on _Echinodermata_, and their joint paper was made the 'Croonian
Lecture.'[28]

This was the last bit of work on marine zoology, excepting a trifling
research on the smelling power of anemones, at which he worked with
Mr. Walter Herries Pollock, who had been tempted to make a temporary
excursion from the paths of literature into the walks of science.
They contributed a joint paper to the Linnean Society on indications
of smell in Actinia, and it is greatly to be feared, such is the
frivolity of literary men, that Mr. Pollock regarded the whole affair
as a very good joke.

The following letters describe the work of the years 1880 and 1881.
The summer of 1879 and 1880 had been spent at Westfield.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin_, _Esq._

  By this post I return you Häckel's essay on Perigenesis. Although
  I have kept it so long, I have only just read it, as you said
  there was no need to return it at any particular time.

  To me it seems that whatever merit Häckel's views may have in
  this matter, they certainly have no claim to be regarded as
  _original_; for I cannot see that his 'Plastidules' differ in
  anything but in name from Spencer's 'Physiological Units.' Why
  he does not acknowledge this, it is difficult to understand.
  Anyhow, the theories being the same, the same objections apply;
  and to me it has always seemed that this theory is unsatisfactory
  because so general. As you observe in your letter, everyone
  believes in molecular movements of some kind; but to offer
  this as a full explanation of heredity seems to me like saying
  that the cause, say, of an obscure disease like diabetes, is
  the persistence of force. No doubt this is the ultimate cause,
  but the pathologist requires some more proximate causes if his
  science is to be of any value. Similarly, I do not see that
  biology gains anything by a theory which is really but little
  better than a restatement of the mystery of heredity in terms
  of the highest abstraction. Pangenesis at least has the merit
  of supplying us with some conceivable carriers, so to speak, of
  the modified protoplasm from the various organs or parts of the
  parent to the corresponding organs or parts of the offspring, and
  the multiplication of gemmules seems to me to avoid a difficulty
  with which Perigenesis (as stated by Häckel) is beset, viz. that
  atavism sometimes occurs over too large a gap to be reasonably
  attributed to what remains of the original 'stem-vibrations'
  after their characters have been successively modified at each
  'bifurcation.' But it would be tedious to enter into details.
  Perigenesis, in my opinion, is 'more simple' than Pangenesis,
  only because its terms are so much more general.

  P.S.--I forgot to tell you, when we were at lunch, that the seed
  of the grafted beets is ready for sowing; also that the vine is
  now four feet high, and so, I should think, might be grafted next
  spring.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq., to G. J. Romanes._

  Down: February 3, 1880.

  I will keep your diagram for a few days[29] but I find it very
  difficult now to think over new subjects, so that it is not
  likely that I shall be able to send any criticisms; but you may
  rely on it that I will do my best.

  I am glad you like Guthrie's book. If you care to read a little
  book on pure instinct, get Fabre, 'Souvenirs Entomologiques,'
  1879. It is really admirable, and very good on the sense of
  direction in insects. I have sent him some suggestions such as
  rotating the insects, but I do not know whether he will try them.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CHARLES DARWIN.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  February 6, 1880.

  I have to thank you very much for your two letters, and also for
  the enclosures from ----, which I now return. The latter convey
  exactly the criticism that I should have expected from ----, for
  while writing my essay on Theism I had several conversations with
  him upon the subject of Spencer's writings, and so know exactly
  what he thinks of them. But in none of these conversations could
  I get at anything more definite than is conveyed by the returned
  letters. In no point of any importance did he make it clear to me
  that Spencer was wrong, and the only result of our conversation
  was to show me that in ---- opinion it was only my ignorance of
  mathematics that prevented me from seeing that Mr. Spencer is
  merely a 'word philosopher.' Upon which opinion I reflected,
  and still reflect, that the mathematicians must be a singularly
  happy race, seeing that they alone of men are competent to think
  about the facts of the cosmos. And this reflection becomes
  still more startling when supplemented by another, viz. that
  although one may not know any mathematics, everybody knows what
  mathematics are: they are the sciences of number and measurement,
  and as such, one is at a loss to perceive why they should be so
  essentially necessary to enable a man to think fairly and well
  upon other subjects. But it is, as you once said, that when a man
  is to be killed by the sword mathematical, he must not have the
  satisfaction of even knowing how he is killed. Of course, in a
  general way I quite understand and agree with ---- that Spencer
  has done but little service to science. But I believe that he has
  done great service to thinking, and all the mathematicians in the
  world would not convince me to the contrary, even though they
  should all deliver their judgment with the magnificent authority
  of a ----.

  Coming now to the diagram, I am much obliged to you for your
  suggestions. The 'Descent of Man,' with all its references upon
  the subject, and also your paper on the 'Baby,' were read, and
  the results embodied in the diagram, so I am very glad you did
  not take the needless trouble of consulting these works. By
  'Love' I intend to denote the complex emotion (dependent on the
  representative faculties) which, having been so lately smitten
  myself, I am perhaps inclined to place in too exalted a position.
  But you did not observe that I placed 'Parental Affection' and
  'Social Feeling' very much lower down.

  In my essay I carefully explain the two cases of Drosera and
  Dionæa as being the best hitherto observed for my purpose in
  establishing the principle of discrimination among stimuli, as a
  principle displayed by non-nervous tissues.


  April 22, 1880.

  As soon as I received your first intimation about Schneider's
  book I wrote over for it, and received a copy some weeks ago. I
  then lent it to Sully, who wanted to read it, so do not yet know
  what it is worth. I, together with my wife--who reads French much
  more quickly than I can--am now engaged upon all the French
  books on animal intelligence which you kindly lent me. I am also
  preparing for my Royal Institution lecture on the 7th of May. I
  will afterwards publish it in some of the magazines, and, last of
  all, in an expanded and more detailed form, it will go into my
  book on Animal Intelligence.

  I went to see ---- the other day on Spiritualism. He answered
  privately a letter that I wrote to 'Nature,' signed 'F.R.S.,'
  which was a feeler for some material to investigate. I had
  never spoken to ---- before, but although I passed a very
  pleasant afternoon with him, I did not learn anything new about
  Spiritualism. He seemed to me to have the faculty of deglutition
  too well developed. Thus, for instance, he seemed rather queer on
  the subject of astrology! and when I asked whether he thought it
  worthy of common sense to imagine that, spirits or no spirits,
  the conjunctions of _planets_ could exercise any causative
  influence on the destinies of children born under them, he
  answered that having already 'swallowed so much,' he did not know
  where to stop!!

  My wife and baby are both flourishing. I noticed that the latter,
  at four days old, could always tell which hand I touched,
  inclining its head towards that hand.


  _From C. Darwin to G. J. Romanes._

  September 14, 1880.

  We send you our best thanks for your magnificent present of game.
  I have not tasted black-game for _nearly half a century_, when I
  killed some on my father-in-law's land in Staffordshire.

  I hope that you are well and strong and do not give up all your
  time to shooting. Pray tell Mrs. Romanes, if you turn idle, I
  shall say it is her fault, and being an old man, shall scold her.
  But you have done too splendid work to turn idle, so I need not
  fear, and shall never have audaciously to scold Mrs. Romanes. But
  I am writing great rubbish. You refer to some Zoological station
  on your coast, and I now remember seeing something about it, and
  that more money was wanted for apparatus, therefore I send a
  cheque of 5_l._ 5_s._ just to show my goodwill.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.

  We went to the Lakes for three weeks to Coniston, and the scenery
  gave me more pleasure than I thought my soul, or whatever remains
  of it, was capable of feeling. We saw Ruskin several times, and
  he was uncommonly pleasant.


  _To C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: November 18, 1880.

  Very many thanks for your kind assistance and expressions of
  approval. It was stupid of me to forget your article in 'Nature'
  about the geese. I now quite well remember reading it when it
  came out.

  Focke's book is just the very thing I wanted, as it supplies such
  a complete history of the subject. If I do not hear from you
  again, I shall keep it for a few days to refer to when the proof
  which I have sent to press shall be returned with my historical
  sketch added.

  I have now nearly finished my paper on the physiology of the
  locomotor system in Echinoderms. The most important result in it
  is the proof, both morphological and physiological, of a nervous
  plexus, external to everything, which in Echinus serves to
  co-ordinate spines, feet, and pedicellariæ in a wonderful manner.
  By the way, I remember once talking with you about the function
  of the latter, and thinking it mysterious. There is no doubt
  now that this function is to seize bits of seaweed, and hold
  them steady till the sucking feet have time to establish their
  adhesions, so assisting locomotion of animal when crawling about
  seaweed-covered rocks.


  November 5, 1880.

  I was sorry to hear on my return from Scotland that I had missed
  the pleasure of a call from you, and also to hear from Mr.
  Teesdale to-day that you had returned to Down, owing, he fears,
  to the alarming condition of Miss Wedgwood. I trust, however,
  that her state of health may not be so serious as he apprehends.

  On my way South I stayed for a couple of days at Newcastle, to
  give two lectures on Mental Evolution, and hence my absence
  when you called. I stayed with Mr. Newall, who has the monster
  telescope, and 'as good luck would have it, Providence was on
  my side,' in the matter of giving us a clear sky for observing,
  rather a rare thing at Newcastle.

  You will be glad to hear that our season's work at the
  'Zoological station' has been very successful. A really
  interesting research has been conducted by Ewart and myself
  jointly on the locomotor system of Echinoderms, he taking the
  morphological and I the physiological part. When next I see you
  I shall tell you the principal points, but to do so in a letter
  would be tedious.

  I think it is probable that Mivart and I shall have a magazine
  battle some day on Mental Evolution, as I think it is better to
  draw him in this way before finally discussing the whole subject
  in my book.


  18 Cornwall Terrace: November 13, 1880.

  I am grieved to hear from Mr. Teesdale that his fears were only
  too well founded. Although I had not myself the privilege of Miss
  Wedgwood's acquaintance, I know, from what I have been told by
  those who had, how greatly your household must feel her loss.

  I should not, however, have written only to trouble you with
  expressions of sympathy. I desire to ask you one or two questions
  with reference to an article on Hybridism which I have written
  for the 'Encyclopædia Britannica,' and the corrected proof of
  which I send. It is in chief part an epitome of your own chapters
  upon the subject, and therefore you need not trouble to read the
  whole, unless you care to see whether I have been sufficiently
  clear and accurate. But there are two points on which I should
  like to have your opinion, both for my own benefit and for that
  of my readers. First, I think it is desirable to append a list of
  the more important works bearing upon the subject, and if I make
  such a list I should not like to trust to my own information,
  lest I should do unwitting injustice to some observing writers.
  If, therefore, you could, _without taking any special trouble_,
  jot down from memory the works you think most deserving of
  mention, I think it would be of benefit to the reading public.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq._

  Down: November 14, 1880.

  My dear Romanes,--Many thanks for your kind sympathy. My wife's
  sister was, I fully believe, as good and generous a woman as ever
  walked this earth.

  The proof-sheets have not arrived, but probably will to-morrow. I
  shall like to read them, though I may not be able to do so _very_
  quickly, as I am bothered with a heap of little jobs which must
  be done. I will send by to-day's post a large book by Focke,
  received a week or two ago, on Hybrids, and which I have not had
  time to look at, but which I see in Table of Contents includes
  full history of subject and much else besides. It will aid you
  far better than I can; for I have now been so long attending
  to other subjects, and with old age, I fear I could make no
  suggestions worth anything. Formerly I knew the subject well.

  Kölreuter, Gärtner, and Herbert are certainly far the most
  trustworthy authorities. There was also a German, whose name I
  mention in 'Origin,' who wrote on Hybrid Willows. Naudin, who is
  often quoted, I have much less confidence in. By the way, Nägeli
  (whom many think the greatest botanist in Germany) wrote a few
  years ago on Hybridism; I cannot remember title, but I will hunt
  for it if you wish. The title will be sure to be in Focke.

  I quite agree with what you say about Passiflora. Herbert
  observed an analogous case in Crinum.


  November 15, 1880.

  I have just read your article. As far as my judgment goes it
  is excellent and could not be improved. You have skimmed the
  cream off the whole subject. It is also very clear. One or two
  sentences near the beginning seem rather too strong, as I have
  marked with pencil, without attending to style. I have made one
  or two small suggestions. If you can find my account in 'Nature'
  (last summer I think)[30] about the hybrid Chinese geese [being
  fertile] _inter se_, it would be worth adding, and would require
  only two or three lines. I do not suppose you wish to add, but in
  my paper on Lythrum, and I think requoted in 'Var. under Dom.'
  vol. ii. 2nd edit. bottom of page 167, I have a good sentence
  about a man finding two vars. of Lythrum, and testing them by
  fertility, and coming to egregiously wrong conclusion.

  I think your idea of reference to best books and short history
  of subject good. By the way, you have made me quite proud of
  my chapter on Hybridism, I had utterly forgotten how good it
  appears when dressed up in your article.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CHARLES DARWIN.

  I have had a hunt and found my little article on Geese, which
  please hereafter return.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: December 10, 1880.

  I return by this post the book on Hybridism, with many thanks. It
  has been of great use to me in giving an abstract of the history.

  I have read your own book with an amount of pleasure that I
  cannot express.

  One idea occurred to me with reference to luminous stimulation,
  which, if it has not already occurred to you, would be well worth
  trying. The suggestion suggests itself. How about the period
  of latent stimulation in these non-nervous and yet irritable
  tissues? And especially with reference to luminous stimulation it
  would be most interesting to ascertain whether the tissues are
  affected by brief _flashes_ of light. If you had an apparatus to
  give bright electrical sparks in a dark room, and were to expose
  one of your plants to flashes of timed intervals between each
  other, you might ascertain, first, whether _any_ number of sparks
  in _any_ length of time would affect the plants at all; and
  second, if so, what number in a given time. I should not wonder
  (from some of my experiments on Medusæ, see 'Phil. Trans.' vol.
  clxvii. pt. ii. pp. 683-4) if it would turn out that a continuous
  uninterrupted series of sparks, however bright, would produce no
  effect at all, owing to the plant tissues being too sluggish to
  admit of being affected by a succession of stimuli each of such
  brief duration. But if any effect were produced, it would still
  be interesting to make out whether this interrupted source of
  flashing light were considerably less effective than a continuous
  source of the same intensity.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Linnean Society, Burlington House, Piccadilly, London, W.:
  December 14, 1880.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--I am glad that you think the experiment
  worth trying. As you say you have not got the requisite apparatus
  for trying it, I have written to Professor Tyndall to see if he
  would allow it to be carried through at the Royal Institution.

  If I had known you were in town I should have called to tell
  you about the Echinoderms. My paper on them is now written (70
  pages), so I have begun to come here (Burlington House) to
  read up systematically all the literature I can find on animal
  intelligence. Hence it is that, having left your letter at home,
  and not remembering the address upon it, I have to send this
  answer to Down.

  ---- is a lunatic beneath all contempt--an object of pity were it
  not for his vein of malice.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: December 17, 1880.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--Just a line to let you know that Professor
  Tyndall has kindly placed at my disposal the apparatus required
  to conduct the experiment with flashing light.

  Frank's papers at the Linnean were, as you will probably have
  heard from other sources, a most brilliant success, as not only
  was the attendance enormously large and the interest great,
  but his exposition was a masterpiece of scientific reasoning,
  rendered with a choice and fluency of language that were really
  charming. I knew, of course, that he is a very clever fellow, but
  I did not know that he could do that sort of thing so well.

  I have now got a monkey. Sclater let me choose one from the Zoo,
  and it is a very intelligent, affectionate little animal. I
  wanted to keep it in the nursery for purposes of comparison, but
  the proposal met with so much opposition that I had to give way.
  I am afraid to suggest the idiot, lest I should be told to occupy
  the nursery myself.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Down, Beckenham, Kent: January 24.

  My dear Romanes,--I have been thinking about Pompilius and its
  allies. Please take the trouble to read on 'Perforation of the
  Corolla by Bees,' p. 425 of my Cross Fertilisation to end of
  chapter. Bees show so much intelligence in their acts, that it
  seems not improbable to me that the progenitors of Pompilius
  originally stung caterpillars and spiders, &c., in any part of
  their bodies, and then observed by their intelligence that if
  they stung them in one particular place, as between certain
  segments on the lower side, their prey was at once paralysed.
  It does not seem to me at all incredible that this action should
  thus become instinctive, _i.e._ memory transmitted from one
  generation to another. It does not seem necessary to suppose that
  when Pompilius stung its prey in the ganglion that it intended
  or knew that the prey would long keep alive. The development of
  the larvæ may have been subsequently modified in relation to
  their half-dead instead of wholly dead prey, supposing that the
  prey was at first quite killed, which would have required much
  stinging. Turn this notion over in your mind, but do not trouble
  yourself by answering.

  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.

  N.B. Once on a time a fool said to himself that at an ancient
  period small soft crabs or other creatures stuck to certain
  fishes; these struggled violently, and in doing so, discharged
  electricity, which annoyed the parasites, so that they often
  wriggled away. The fish was very glad, and some of its children
  gradually profited in a higher degree and in various ways by
  discharging more electricity and by not struggling. The fool who
  thought thus persuaded another fool to try an eel in Scotland,
  and lo and behold electricity was discharged when it struggled
  violently. He then placed in contact with the fish, or near it, a
  small medusa or other animal which he cleverly knew was sensitive
  to electricity, and when the eel struggled violently, the little
  animals in contact showed by their movements that they felt a
  slight shock. Ever afterwards men said that the two fools were
  not such big fools as they seemed to be.

  STULTUS.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: Sunday, March 1881.

  I have got a lot of cats waiting for me at different houses round
  Wimbledon Common, and some day next week shall surprise our
  coachman by making a round of calls upon the cats, drive them
  several miles into the country, and then let them out of their
  respective bags. If any return, I shall try them again in other
  directions before finally trying the rotation experiment.

  I am also getting the experiment on flashing light agoing. The
  first apparatus did not answer, so now I have invested in a large
  eight-day clock, the pendulum of which I intend to make do the
  flashing.


  18 Cornwall Terrace. Regent's Park, N.W.: March 24, 1881.

  I write to ask you what you think of the following idea as to a
  possible method of attacking Pangenesis. Why not, I mean, inarch,
  at an early period of their growth, the seed-vessels or ovaries
  of plants belonging to different varieties? If adhesion takes
  place, the ovary might then be severed from its parent plant, and
  left to develop upon the foreign one.

  If you think this a possible experiment, now would be the time of
  year to try it. Therefore I write to ask whether you do think it
  possible, and if so, what plants you may think it would be best
  to try it with.

  All the cats[31] I have hitherto let out of their respective bags
  have shown themselves exceedingly stupid, not one having found
  her way back.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq., to G. J. Romanes._

  Down, Beckenham, Kent: March 26, 1881.

  You are very plucky about Pangenesis, and I much wish that you
  could have any success. I do not understand your scheme. Do you
  intend to operate on an ovarium with a single ovule, and to
  bisect it after being fertilised? I should fear that this was
  quite hopeless. If you intend to operate on ovaria with many
  seeds, whether before or after fertilisation, I do not see how
  you could possibly distinguish any effect from the union of the
  two ovaria. Any operation before fertilisation would, I presume,
  quite prevent the act; for very few flowers can be fertilised if
  the stem is cut and placed in water. Gärtner, however, says, that
  some Liliaceæ can be fertilised under these circumstances.

  If Hooker is correct, he found that cutting off or making a hole
  into the summit of the ovarium and then inserting pollen caused
  the fertilisation of the ovules. This has always stretched my
  belief to the cracking point. I think he has published a notice
  on this experiment, but forget where, and I think it was on
  'Papaver.' Dyer could probably tell you about it. Perhaps your
  plan is to remove one half of the ovarium of a one-seeded plant
  and join it on to the ovary of another of a distinct var., with
  its ovule removed; but this would be a frightfully difficult
  operation.

  I am very sorry to hear about your ill success with cats, and I
  wish you could get some detailed account of the Belgium trials.

  Yours very sincerely,
  C. DARWIN.


  April 16, 1881.

  My manuscript on Worms has been sent to printers, so I am going
  to amuse myself by scribbling to you on a few points; but
  you must not waste your time in answering at any length this
  scribble. Firstly, your letter on intelligence was very useful
  to me, and I tore up and rewrote what I sent you. I have not
  attempted to define intelligence, but have quoted your remarks on
  experience, and have shown how far they apply to worms. It seems
  to me, that they must be said to work with some intelligence,
  anyhow, they are not guided by a blind instinct.

  Secondly, I was greatly interested by the abstract in 'Nature'
  of your work on Echinoderms; the complexity, with simplicity,
  and with such curious co-ordination of the nervous system, is
  marvellous; and you showed me before what splendid gymnastic
  feats they can perform.

  Thirdly, Dr. Roux has sent me a book just published by him,
  'Der Kampf der Theile,' &c., 1881 (240 pages in length). He
  is manifestly a well-read physiologist and pathologist, and
  from his position a good anatomist. It is full of reasoning,
  and this in German is very difficult to me, so that I have only
  skimmed through each page, here and there reading with a little
  more care. As far as I can _imperfectly_ judge, it is the most
  important book on evolution which has appeared for some time. I
  believe that G. H. Lewes hinted at the same fundamental idea,
  viz. that there is a struggle going on _within_ every organism
  between the organic molecules, the cells, and the organs. I
  _think_ that his basis is that every cell which best performs
  its function is as a consequence at the same time best nourished
  and best propagates its kind. The book does not touch on mental
  phenomena, but there is much discussion on rudimentary or
  atrophied parts, to which subject you formerly attended. Now if
  you would like to read this book, I will send it after Frank has
  glanced at it, for I do not think he will have time to read it
  with care. If you read it and are struck with it (but I may be
  _wholly_ mistaken about its value), you would do a public service
  by analysing and criticising it in 'Nature.' Dr. Roux makes, I
  think, a gigantic oversight in never considering plants; these
  would simplify the problem for him.

  Fourthly, I do not know whether you will discuss in your book
  on the 'Mind of Animals' any of the more complex and wonderful
  instincts. It is unsatisfactory work, as there can be no
  fossilised instincts, and the sole guide is their state in other
  members of the same order and mere probability. But if you do
  discuss any (and it will perhaps be expected of you) I should
  think that you could not select a better case than that of the
  sand-wasps, which paralyse their prey, as formerly described
  by Fabre in his wonderful paper in 'Annales des Sciences,' and
  since amplified in his admirable 'Souvenirs.' Whilst reading this
  latter book, I speculated a little on the subject. Astonishing
  nonsense is often spoken of the sand-wasp's knowledge of
  anatomy. Now will anyone say that the Gauchos on the plains of
  La Plata have such knowledge, yet I have often seen them prick
  a struggling and lassoed cow on the ground with unerring skill,
  which no mere anatomist could imitate. The pointed knife was
  infallibly driven in between the vertebræ by a single slight
  thrust. I presume that the art was first discovered by chance,
  and that each young Gaucho sees exactly how the others do it, and
  then with a very little practice learning the art. Now I suppose
  that the sand-wasps originally merely killed their prey by
  stinging them in many places (see p. 129 of Fabre, 'Souvenirs,'
  and page 241), on the lower and softer side of the body, and that
  to sting a certain segment was found by far the most successful
  method, and was inherited, like the tendency of a bull-dog to pin
  the nose of a bull, or of a ferret to bite the cerebellum. It
  would not be a very great step in advance to prick the ganglion
  of its prey only slightly, and thus to give its larvæ fresh meat
  instead of old dry meat. Though Fabre insists so strongly on the
  unvarying character of instinct, yet it shows that there is some
  variability, as on pp. 176, 177.

  I fear that I shall have utterly wearied you with my scribbling
  and bad handwriting.

  My dear Romanes,
  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: April 17, 1881.

  Your long letter has been most refreshing to me in every way.

  I am looking forward with keen interest to the appearance of your
  book on Worms, and am unexpectedly glad to hear that my letter
  was of any use.

  I should very much like to see the book you mention, and from
  what you say about sending it I shall not order it. But there is
  no need to send it soon, as I have already an accumulation of
  books to review for 'Nature.'

  I am very glad that you think well of the Echinoderm work.
  Several other experiments have occurred to me to try, and I
  hope to be able to do so next autumn, as also the interesting
  experiment suggested by Frank of rotating by clockwork (as you
  did the plants) an Echinus inverted upon its aboral pole, to see
  whether it would right itself when the influence of gravity is
  removed.

  No doubt I must in my second book deal with instincts of all
  kinds, complex or otherwise. Your 'speculations' on the sand-wasp
  seem to me very pithy--excuse the pun suggested by the analogy
  of the cattle--and I think there can be little doubt that such
  is the direction in which the explanation is to be sought. I
  also think that the difficulty is mitigated by the consideration
  that both the ganglion of the spider and the sting of the wasp
  are organs situated on the median line of their respective
  possessors, and therefore that the origin of the instinct may
  have been determined or assisted by the mere anatomical form of
  the animals--the wasp not stinging till securely mounted on the
  spider's back, and when so mounted the sting might naturally
  strike the ganglion. But I have not yet read Fabre's own account,
  so this view may not hold. Anyhow, and whatever determining
  conditions as to origin may have been, it seems to me there can
  be little doubt that natural selection would have developed it in
  the way you suggest.

  I have now grown a number of seeds exposed to the flashing light,
  but am not yet quite sure as to the result. About one seedling
  out of ten bends towards the flashing source very decidedly,
  while all the rest, although exposed to just the same conditions,
  grow perfectly straight. But I shall, no doubt, find out the
  reason of this by further trials. It is strange that the same
  thing happens when I expose other seedlings to constant light of
  exceedingly dim intensity. It looks as if some individuals were
  more sensitive to light than others. I do not know whether you
  found any evidence of this.

  I have just found that this year again I have been too late in
  asking them to send me cuttings of the vine for grafting. I did
  not know that the sap in vines began to run so early.

  I remain ever yours, very sincerely and most respectfully,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _From C. Darwin, Esq., to G. J. Romanes._

  Down: April 18, 1881.

  I am extremely glad of your success with the flashing light. If
  plants are acted on by light, like some of the lower animals,
  there is an additional point of interest, as it seems to me, in
  your results. Most botanists believe that light causes a plant
  to bend to it in as direct a manner as light affects nitrate of
  silver.

  I believe that it merely tells the plant to which side to bend,
  and I see indications of this belief prevailing even with Sachs.
  Now it might be expected that light would act on a plant in
  something the same manner as on the lower animals. As you are
  at work on this subject, I will call your attention to another
  point. Wiesner, of Vienna (who has lately published a good book
  on Heliotropism) finds that an intermittent light during 20 m.
  produces same effect as a continuous light of same brilliancy
  during 60 m. So that Van Tieghem, in the first part of his book,
  which has just appeared, remarks, the light during 40 m. out
  of the 60 m. produced no effect. I observed an analogous case
  described in my book. Wiesner and Tieghem seem to think that this
  is explained by calling the whole process 'induction,' borrowing
  a term used by some physico-chemists (of whom I believe Roscoe is
  one), and implying an agency which does not produce any effect
  for some time, and continues its effect for some time after the
  cause has ceased. I believe (?) that photographic paper is an
  instance. I must ask Leonard whether an interrupted light acts
  on it in the same manner as on a plant. At present I must still
  believe in my explanation that it is the contrast between light
  and darkness which excites a plant.

  I have forgotten my main object in writing, viz. to say that I
  believe (and have so stated) that seedlings vary much in their
  sensitiveness to light; but I did not prove this, for there are
  many difficulties, whether time of incipient curvature or amount
  of curvature is taken as the criterion. Moreover, they vary
  according to age and perhaps from vigour of growth; and there
  seems inherent variability, as Strasburger (whom I quote) found
  with spores. If the curious anomaly observed by you is due to
  varying sensitiveness, ought not _all_ the seedlings to bend if
  the flashes were at longer intervals of time? According to my
  notion of contrast between light and darkness being the stimulus,
  I should expect that if flashes were made sufficiently slow it
  would be a powerful stimulus, and that you would _suddenly_
  arrive at a period when the result would _suddenly_ become great.
  On the other hand, as far as my experience goes, what one expects
  rarely happens.

  I heartily wish you success, and remain, yours ever very
  sincerely,

  CH. DARWIN.

  Do you read the 'Times'? As I had a fair opportunity, I sent a
  letter to the 'Times' on Vivisection, which is printed to-day.
  I thought it fair to bear my share of the abuse poured in so
  atrocious a manner on all physiologists.


  _From G. J. Romanes to C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: April 22.

  I have left your last letter so long unanswered in order that I
  might be able to let you know the result of the next experiment
  I was trying on the seeds with flashing light. I think in the
  end the conclusion will be that short flashes, such as I am now
  using, influence the seedlings, but only to a comparatively small
  degree, so that it is only the more sensitive seedlings that
  perceive them.

  Your letter in the 'Times' was in every way admirable, and coming
  from you will produce more effect than it could from anybody
  else. The answer to-day to ---- is also first-rate--just enough
  without being too much. It would have been a great mistake to
  have descended into a controversy. I thought ---- had more
  wit than to adopt such a tack and tone, and am sure that all
  physiologists will be for ever grateful to you for such a
  trenchant expression of opinion.

  I have a little piece of gossip to tell. Yesterday the Council of
  the Linnean nominated me Zoological Secretary, and some of the
  members having pressed me to accept, I have accepted. I also hear
  that your son is to be on the same Council, and that Sir John
  Lubbock is to be the new President.

  I have at length decided on the arrangement of my material for
  the books on Animal Intelligence and Mental Evolution. I shall
  reserve all the heavier parts of theoretical discussion for the
  second book--making the first the chief repository of facts,
  with only a slender network of theory to bind them into mutual
  relation, and save the book as much as possible from the danger
  that you suggested of being too much matter-of-fact. It will
  be an advantage to have the facts in a form to admit of brief
  reference when discussing the heavier philosophy in the second
  book, which will be the more important, though the less popular,
  of the two.


Just then some correspondence had been going on in the 'Times' on
the subject of Vivisection, and Mr. Darwin wrote to Mr. Romanes as
follows:--


  Down, Beckenham, Kent: April 25, 1881.

  My dear Romanes,--I was very glad to read your last notes with
  much news interesting to me. But I write now to say how I, and
  indeed all of us in the house, have admired your letter in the
  'Times.'[32] It was so simple and direct. I was particularly glad
  about Burdon Sanderson, of whom I have been for several years
  a great admirer. I was, also, especially glad to read the last
  sentences. I have been bothered with several letters, but none
  abusive. Under a selfish point of view I am very glad of the
  publication of your letter, as I was at first inclined to think
  that I had done mischief by stirring up the mud, now I feel sure
  that I have done good....


The following letters relate to the portrait of Mr. Darwin which was
painted by the Hon. John Collier for the Linnean Society.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: May 25.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--When at the Linnean this afternoon, I was
  told by Dr. M---- that he had obtained your consent to sit for
  a portrait for the Society. Now, as it appears to me a great
  favour to ask of you to sit for yet another portrait, the least
  we can do, if you consent, is to employ a thoroughly good man
  to paint it. Therefore, if you have not already entered into
  any definite agreement, I write to suggest a little delay (say
  of a month), when, as Secretary, I might ascertain the amount
  of the subscription on which we might rely, and arrange matters
  accordingly. John Collier (Huxley's son-in-law) told me some time
  ago that he would dearly like to have you to paint, and I doubt
  not that he would do it at less than his ordinary charges if
  necessary. He would be sure to do the work well, and so I write
  to ascertain whether you would not prefer him, or some other
  artist of known ability, to do the work, if I were to undertake
  to provide the needful.

  Please give to Mrs. Darwin, and take to yourself, our best
  thanks for your kind congratulations on the opportune arrival of
  another baby--just in time to be worked into the book on Mental
  Evolution. Everything is going well.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _To C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: July 1.

  I have told Collier that he had now better write to you direct
  at whatever time he intends to make his final arrangements with
  you as to place and time of sitting. He has just finished a
  portrait of me, which my mother had painted as a present to my
  wife. It is exceedingly good, and as all his recent portraits are
  the same--notably one of Huxley--I am very glad that he is to
  paint you. Besides, he is such a pleasant man to talk to, that
  the sittings are not so tedious as they would be with a less
  intelligent man.

  I shall certainly read the 'Creed of Science' as soon as I can.
  The German book on Evolution I have not yet looked at, as I have
  been giving all my time to my own book. This is now finished. But
  talking of my time, I do not see how the two or three hours which
  I have spent in arranging to have a portrait, which will be of so
  much historical importance, taken by a competent artist, could
  well have been better employed.

  You will see that I have got into a row with Carpenter over the
  thought-reading. Everybody thinks he made a mistake in lending
  himself to Bishop's design of posing as a scientific wonder.
  Bishop is a very sly dog, and has played his cards passing well.
  In an article which he published two years ago in an American
  newspaper, he explains the philosophy of advertising, and says
  the first thing to attend to is to catch good names. He has now
  succeeded well.

  Very sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Down: August 7.

  My dear Romanes,--I received yesterday the enclosed notice, and I
  send it to you, as I have thought that if you notice Dr. Roux's
  book in 'Nature' or elsewhere the review might possibly be of use
  to you. As far as I can judge the book ought to be brought before
  English naturalists. You will have heard from Collier that he has
  finished my picture. All my family who have seen it think it the
  best likeness which has been taken of me, and, as far as I can
  judge, this seems true. Collier was the most considerate, kind,
  and pleasant painter a sitter could desire.

  My dear Romanes,
  Yours very sincerely,
  CH. DARWIN.


  _To C. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: August 8, 1881.

  Many thanks for the notice of Roux's book. I have not yet looked
  at the latter, but Preyer, of Jena (who has been our guest during
  the Congress meeting,[33] and who knows the author), does not
  think much of it.

  I am delighted that the portrait has pleased those who are the
  best judges. I saw it the day it came up, and feel no doubt at
  all that it is far and away the best of the three. But I did not
  like to write and venture this opinion till I knew what you all
  thought of it.

  I have been very busy this past week with the affairs of the
  Congress in relation to Vivisection. It has been resolved by the
  Physiological Section to get a vote of the whole Congress upon
  the subject, and I had to prepare the resolution and get the
  signatures of all the vice-presidents of the Congress, presidents
  and vice-presidents of sections, and to arrange for its being put
  to the vote of the whole Congress at its last general meeting
  to-morrow. The only refusal to sign came appropriately enough
  from the president of the section 'Mental Diseases.'

  We leave for Scotland to-morrow, when I shall hope to get time
  to read Roux's book, though I shall first review 'The Student's
  Darwin.'

  I remain, very sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


The following letters relate to the burning question of Vivisection:--


  Garvock, Perthshire: August 31, 1881.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--It is not often that I write to dun you, and
  I am sorry that duty should now impose on me the task of doing
  so, but I have no alternative, as you shall immediately see.

  The Physiological Society was formed, as you may remember, for
  the purpose of obtaining combined action among physiologists on
  the subject of Vivisection. The result in the first instance
  was to resolve on a tentative policy of silence, with the view
  of seeing whether the agitation would not burn itself out. It
  is now thought that this policy has been tried sufficiently
  long, and that we are losing ground by continuing it. After much
  deliberation, therefore, the society has resolved to speak out
  upon the subject, and the 'Nineteenth Century' has been involved
  as the medium of publication. Arrangements have been made with
  Knowles for a symposium-like series of short essays by all the
  leaders of biology and medicine in this country--each to write
  on a branch of the subject chosen by himself or allotted to him
  by the society. In this matter of organising the contributions,
  the society is to be represented by Dr. Pye Smith, who combines
  science, medicine, and literary culture better than any other
  member of our body.

  As secretary I am directed to write to all the men whose names
  are mentioned in a resolution passed by the society in accordance
  with the report of a committee appointed by the society to
  consider the subject. Hence these tears.

  Of course, your name in this matter is one of the most important,
  and as the idea is to get a body of great names, it would
  be a disappointment of no small magnitude if yours should
  fail. It does not matter so much that you should write a long
  dissertation, so long as you allow yourself to stand among this
  noble army of martyrs. Two or three pages of the 'Nineteenth
  Century' on one, say, of the following topics would be all that
  we should want:--

  'The limits and safeguards desirable in carrying on scientific
  experiments on animals.'

  'Mistaken humanity of the agitation: real humanity of
  vivisection.'

  'The Royal Commission and its report.'

  Or any other topic connected with Vivisection on which you may
  feel the spirit most to move you to write.

  Any further information that you may desire I shall be happy to
  give; but please remember how much your assistance is desired.

  This is a very delightful place, though not very conducive to
  work. If any of your sons are in Scotland and should care for a
  few days' sport with other scientific men on the spree, please
  tell them that they will find open house and welcome here.

  The proofs of my book on Animal Intelligence are coming in. I
  hope your work on Worms will be out in time for me to mention it
  and its main results.

  Ewart has pitched his zoological laboratory at Oban, so as to be
  as near this as possible. I shall go down when I can to keep his
  pot of sea-eggs upon the boil.

  I remain, very sincerely and most respectfully yours,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Down, Beckenham, Kent: September 2, 1881.

  My dear Romanes,--Your letter has perplexed me beyond all
  measure. I fully recognise the duty of everyone, whose opinion is
  worth anything, expressing his opinion publicly on vivisection,
  and this made me send my letter to the 'Times.' I have been
  thinking at intervals all morning what I could say, and it is
  the simple truth that I have nothing worth saying. You, and men
  like you, whose ideas flow freely, and who can express them
  easily, cannot understand the state of mental paralysis in which
  I find myself. What is most wanted is a careful and accurate
  attempt to show what physiology has already done for man, and
  even still more strongly what there is every reason to believe it
  will hereafter do. Now I am absolutely incapable of doing this,
  or of discussing the other points suggested by you.

  If you wish for my name (and I should be glad that it should
  appear with that of others in the same cause), could you not
  quote some sentence from my letter in the 'Times,' which I
  inclose, but please return it. If you thought fit you might
  say that you quoted it with my approval, and that, after still
  further reflection, I still abide most strongly in my expressed
  conviction. _For Heaven's sake_, do think of this; I do not
  grudge the labour and thought, but I could write nothing worth
  anyone's reading.

  Allow me to demur to your calling your conjoint article a
  'symposium,' strictly a 'drinking-party;' this seems to me very
  bad taste, and I do hope everyone of you will avoid any semblance
  of a joke on the subject. I know that words like a joke on this
  subject have quite disgusted some persons not at all inimical
  to physiology. One person lamented to me that Mr. Simon, in his
  truly admirable address at the Medical Congress (by far the best
  thing which I have read), spoke of the 'fantastic sensuality'[34]
  (or some such term) of the many mistaken, but honest men and
  women who are half mad on the subject.

  Do pray try and let me escape, and quote my letter, which in some
  respects is more valuable, as giving my independent judgment
  before the Medical Congress. I really cannot imagine what I could
  say.

  I will now turn to another subject: my little book on Worms
  has been long finished, but Murray was so strongly opposed to
  publishing it at the dead season, that I yielded. I have told
  the printers to send you a set of clean sheets, which you can
  afterwards have stitched together. There is hardly anything in it
  which can interest you.

  Two or three papers by Hermann Müller have just appeared in
  'Kosmos,' which seem to me interesting, as showing how soon,
  _i.e._ after how many attempts, bees learn how best to suck a new
  flower; there is also a good and laudatory review of Dr. Roux. I
  could lend you 'Kosmos' if you think fit.

  You will perhaps have seen that my poor dear brother Erasmus has
  just died, and he was buried yesterday here at Down.


  Garvock. Bridge of Earn, Perthshire: September 4.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--I hasten to relieve your mind about writing
  on vivisection, as I am sure that none of the physiologists would
  desire you to do so if you feel it a bother. After all, there are
  plenty of other men to do the writing, and if some of them quote
  the marked sentences in your letter (which I return), with the
  statement that you still adhere to them, the chief thing will be
  done--viz. showing again and emphatically on which side you are.

  It is not intended to call the article a 'Symposium.' I only used
  this word to show that they are to be of the same composite kind
  as those which the 'Nineteenth Century' previously published
  under this designation.

  Your letter gives me the first news of your brother's death. I
  remember very well seeing him one day when I called on you at his
  house. It must make you very sad, and I am sorry to have written
  you at such a time.

  I have already sent in a short review of Roux's book, but
  should like to see about the bees in 'Kosmos.' I am trying some
  experiments with bees here on way-finding; but, contrary to my
  expectations, I find that most bees, when marked and liberated
  at one hundred yards from their hive, do not get back for a long
  time. This fact makes it more difficult to test their mode of
  way-finding, as the faculty (whatever it is) does not seem to be
  certain.

  Many thanks for sending me the book on Worms so early. As yet I
  have only had time to look at the table of contents, which seems
  most interesting.

  Lockyer is staying here just now, and has given me the proofs of
  his book. It seems to me that he has quite carried the position
  as to the elements being products of development.


  Down: October 14.

  My dear Romanes,--I have just read the splendid review of the
  Worm book in 'Nature.' I have been much pleased by it, but at
  the same time you so over-estimate the value of what I do, that
  you make me feel ashamed of myself, and wish to be worthy of such
  praise. I cannot think how you can endure to spend so much time
  over another's work, when you have yourself so much in hand; I
  feel so worn out, that I do not suppose I shall ever again give
  reviewers trouble.

  I hope that your _opus magnum_ is progressing well, and when we
  meet later in the autumn I shall be anxious to hear about it.

  In a few days' time we are going to visit Horace in Cambridge for
  a week, to see if that will refresh me.

  Pray give my kind remembrances to Mrs. Romanes, and I hope you
  are all well.


  Garvock, Bridge of Earn, Perthshire: October 16, 1881.

  My dear Mr. Darwin,--If I did not know you so well, I should
  think that you are guilty of what our nurse calls 'mock modesty.'
  At least I know that if I, or anybody else, had written the book
  which I reviewed, your judgment would have been the first to
  endorse all I have said. I never allow personal friendship to
  influence what I say in reviews; and if I am so uniformly stupid
  as to 'over-estimate the value of all you do,' it is at any rate
  some consolation to know that my stupidity is so universally
  shared by all the men of my generation. But your letters are to
  me always psychological studies, and especially so when, as in
  this one, you seem without irony intentionally grim to refer to
  my work in juxtaposition with your own.

  The proof-sheets are coming in, and I suppose the book will be
  out in a month or two. I do not know why they are so slow in
  setting up the type. But, as I said once before, this book will
  not be so good (or so little bad) as the one that is to follow.

  Ewart and I have been working at the Echinoderms again, and
  at last have found the internal nervous plexus. Also tried
  poisons, and proved still further the locomotor function of the
  pedicellariæ.

  I observed a curious thing about anemones. If a piece of food
  is placed in a pool or tank where a number are closed, in a few
  minutes they all expand: clearly they _smell_ the food.

  I am deeply sorry to hear that you feel 'worn out,' but cannot
  imagine that the reviewers have done with you yet.

  The vivisection fight does not promise well. Like yourself, most
  of the champions do not like the idea.

  G. J. ROMANES.


There are many other letters, but care has been taken only to
select the most interesting. In 1881 came the last visit to Down,
full of brightness. Mr. Darwin was most particularly kind, and gave
Mr. Romanes some of his own MSS., including a paper on 'Instinct,'
which is bound up with Mr. Romanes' own book, 'Mental Evolution in
Animals.' It transpired that Mr. Darwin was extremely fond of novels,
and had the most delightful way of offering his guests books to take
to bed with them. In fact, Down was one of the few houses in which
readable books adorned the guest-chambers.

It came out on this occasion that Mr. Darwin had an especial love for
the books written by the author of 'Mademoiselle Mori.' He offered
one of his guests 'Denise,' saying it was his favourite tale, or
words to that effect.

Down was indeed one of the most delightful of houses in which to
stay, and that snowy January Sunday of 1881 was a very real red
letter day.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: July 24, 1881.

  My dearest Charlotte,--There have been no letters from you for
  two days, so I have nothing to answer.

  I did not write yesterday because we were spending the day with
  Mr. Teesdale, in his house at Down, and did not get back again
  till past the post hour. We went over to pay a call upon Darwin.
  He and his wife were at home, and as kind and glad to see us as
  possible. The servant gave our names wrongly to them, and they
  thought we were a very old couple whom they know, called Norman.
  So old Darwin came in with a huge canister of snuff under his
  arm--old Norman being very partial to this luxury--and looked
  very much astonished at finding us. He was as grand and good and
  bright as ever.

  In to-day's 'Times' you will see a letter by 'F.R.S.' which is
  worth reading, as are all the productions of his able pen.

  I have been applied to by the Editor of the 'Encyclopædia
  Britannica' to supply an article on 'Instinct.' This I am writing.

  We are all quite well, except that I have had a cold, which is
  now going away.

  With united love to all, yours ever the same,

  GEORGE.


One evening Mr. Romanes personally 'conducted' Mr. Darwin to the
Royal Institution to hear a lecture by Dr. Sanderson on 'Dionæa.' A
burst of applause greeted Mr. Darwin's entrance, much to that great
man's surprise. Earlier in the day he had half timidly asked Mr.
Romanes if there would be room at the Royal Institution for him.

In 1882 came the great sorrow of Mr. Darwin's death. The following
letters show something of what the loss was to the ardent disciple,
the loyal-hearted friend.


  _To Francis Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: April 22, 1882.

  My dear Darwin,--I did not write because I thought it might
  trouble you, but I sent some flowers yesterday which did not
  require acknowledgment.

  Even you, I do not think, can know all that this death means
  to me. I have long dreaded the time, and now that it has come
  it is worse than I could anticipate. Even the death of my own
  father--though I loved him deeply, and though it was more sudden,
  did not leave a desolation so terrible. Half the interest of
  my life seems to have gone when I cannot look forward any more
  to his dear voice of welcome, or to the letters that were my
  greatest happiness. For now there is no one to venerate, no one
  to work for, or to think about while working. I always knew that
  I was leaning on these feelings too much, but I could not try to
  prevent them, and so at last I am left with a loneliness that
  never can be filled. And when I think how grand and generous his
  kindness was to me, grief is no word for my loss.

  But I know that your grief is greater than mine, and that, like
  him, I should try to think of others before myself. And I do
  feel for you all very much indeed. But although I cannot endure
  to picture your house or your household as the scene of such a
  death, I can derive some consolation from the thought that he
  died as few men in the history of the world have died--knowing
  that he had finished a gigantic work, seeing how that work has
  transformed the thoughts of mankind, and foreseeing that his
  name must endure to the end of time among the very greatest of
  the human race. Very, very rare is such consolation as this in a
  house of mourning.

  I look forward to hearing more about the end when we meet. I feel
  it is very kind of you to have written to me so soon, and I hope
  you will convey our very sincere sympathy to Mrs. Darwin and the
  other members of your family.

  Yours ever sincerely,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


After 'Mr. Darwin's Life' appeared, Mr. Romanes writes:--


  _To Francis Darwin, Esq._

  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: November 21, 1887.

  Dear Darwin,--In this far-away place I have only to-day seen the
  'Times' review, and sent for the book. But from what the review
  says I can see that all the world has to thank you. Therefore
  I write at once to say how more than glad I feel that you have
  carried so great a work to so successful a termination. How
  glad _you_ must be that the immense labour and anxiety of it all
  is over. Do not trouble to answer, but believe in the genuine
  congratulations of

  Yours very truly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  November 26, 1887.

  I write again to thank you--this time for the presentation copy
  of the Life and Letters. I had previously got one, but am very
  glad to have the work in duplicate. It is indeed splendidly done.

  I send you the enclosed to post or not, as you think best. On
  reading ----'s letter yesterday it occurred to me that if any
  answer were required, it might be better for somebody other
  than yourself to supply it. But I do not know how you may think
  it best to treat this man, therefore post the letter or not,
  according to your judgment.

  Yours very sincerely,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Geanies: December 1, 1887.

  I have now nearly finished the 'Life and Letters,' and cannot
  express my admiration of your work. What a mercy it is that you
  were so wonderfully qualified to do it.

  Yours ever indebtedly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


Mr. Romanes wrote one of the memorial notices in the little volume
'Charles Darwin,' published by Messrs. Macmillan.

Thus closed a very significant and important chapter in his life.

The relationship of disciple to master ceased for him, no one else
exactly held the place Mr. Darwin had held, to no one else did he so
constantly refer; and dear as were other friends, notably Dr. Burdon
Sanderson, no one stood in the position to Romanes of 'The Master.'

There was no exaggeration in his expressions of grief, or in the
verses in which he poured out his soul:--

    'I loved him with a strength of love[35]
      Which man to man can only bear
    When one in station far above
      The rest of men, yet deigns to share
    A friendship true with those far down
      The ranks: as though a mighty king,
    Girt with his armies of renown,
      Should call within his narrow ring
    Of counsellors and chosen friends
      Some youth who scarce can understand
    How it began or how it ends
      That he should grasp the monarch's hand.'

To all those to whom a great friendship has been given, a friendship,
not on equal terms, but one in which the chief elements on one side
have been reverence and gratitude, on the other affectionate approval
and esteem, to all these fortunate souls these letters and verses
will appeal. For it is no small matter in a man's life that he should
have had a passionate friendship for a great man, a real leader; and
it is a still greater matter that the younger man should have found
his confidence, his devotion, his reverence worthily bestowed.


  _To Francis Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 18, 1885.

  Dear Darwin,--I will think over the conversations and write you
  again whether there is anything that would do for publishing.

  Meanwhile I send for your perusal some verses which I have
  written at odds and ends of time since he died. This was
  only done for my own gratification, and without any view to
  publishing. But having recently had them put together and copied
  out, I have sent them to two or three of the best poetical
  critics for their opinion upon the literary merits of the poem
  as a whole. The result of this has been more satisfactory than
  I anticipated; and as one of them suggests that I should offer
  the verses as an addendum to the biography, I act upon the
  coincidence of receiving your letter and his at about the same
  time.

  It seems to me there are two things for you to consider:
  first, whether anything in the way of poetry, however good, is
  desirable; and next, if so, whether this poetry is good enough
  for the occasion. The first question would be answered by your
  own feelings, and the second, I suppose, by submitting the
  verses to some good authority for an opinion--say one to whom
  I have not sent them. Only, if the matter were to go as far as
  this, I should like you to explain to the critic that as it
  stands the poem is only in the rough. If it were to be revised
  for publication I should spend a good deal of trouble over
  the process of polishing, and some of the lines expressive of
  passionate grief would be altogether changed.

  In sending you the MS. I rely upon you not to let the authorship
  be known to anyone without first asking me, because, although I
  have published poetry already,[36] it has been anonymous, and I
  do not want it to be known that I have this propensity. And on
  this account, if these verses were to appear in the biography, it
  would require to be without my name, or headed in some such way
  as 'Memorial verses by a friend.' In this case I should modify
  any of the lines which might lead to the author being spotted.

  Should you decide against admitting them, I do not think that
  I should publish them anywhere else, because where such a
  personality is concerned, independent publication (without the
  occasion furnished by the appearance of a biography) might seem
  presumptuous even on the part of an anonymous writer.

  Yesterday I received a letter from the Frenchman who translated
  my book on 'Mental Evolution,' asking me to let him know whether
  he might apply for the translation of the biography. His name
  is De Varigny, and he does some original work in vertebrate
  physiology. I think he has done my book very well.

  Yours ever sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  Can you suggest a subject for a Rede lecture which I have to give
  in May?


FOOTNOTES:

[24] He was elected to the Fellowship of the Royal Society in 1879.

[25] The Brit. Assoc. Lecture, 1878.

[26] The present Master of Balliol.

[27] Now Lord Kelvin.

[28] His book entitled 'Jelly-Fish, Star-Fish, and Sea Urchins,'
gives a full account of Mr. Romanes' researches on these primitive
nervous systems.

[29] Diagram for a lecture on 'Mental Evolution.'

[30] See _Nature_, vol. xxi. p. 207.

[31] Mr. Romanes used to describe with much amusement the ludicrous
nature of the experiment as seen by passers-by. He drove in a cab
well into the country, released the cats, and mounted the roof of
the cab in order to get a good view of the cats speeding away in
different directions.

[32] A letter written at the end of April 1881.

[33] International Medical Congress.

[34] See 'Life &c. of C. Darwin,' vol. iii. p. 210.

[35] _Charles Darwin_: a memorial poem.

[36] A few stray poems in magazines.




CHAPTER III

1881-1890

LONDON--GEANIES


One may now for a short space turn away from the scientific side of
Mr. Romanes' life and speak a little of other aspects.

No one was ever a more incessant worker and thinker. If he went
away for a short visit, his writing went too; and if in Scotland
wet weather interfered with shooting, he would sit down and write
something, perhaps a poem, perhaps (as he once said playfully when
condoled with on account of heavy rain and absence of books, 'I don't
care, I'll write an essay on the freedom of the will') an article for
a magazine.

A great deal of reviewing, chiefly in 'Nature,' filled up some of his
time, and he also turned his attention more and more to poetry.

In the postscript of a letter written in 1878 to Mr. Darwin he says:
'I am beginning to write poetry!' and poetry interested him more and
more as years went on. Of this, more later.

He much enjoyed society; he ceased to mingle exclusively with
scientific and philosophical people, and as time went on he became
acquainted with many of the notabilities of the day. And, as has been
said, it is impossible perhaps to exaggerate the outward pleasantness
of those years.

He was able to devote himself to his work; he had an ever-increasing
number of devoted friends both of men and women, and he was
intensely happy in his home life.

His children were a great and increasing interest to him, and he was
an ideal father, tender, sympathetic, especially as infancy grew into
childhood. He shared in all his children's interests, and lived with
them on terms of absolute friendship, chaffing and being chaffed,
enjoying an interchange of pet names and jokes, and yet exacting
obedience and gentle manners, and never permitting them as small
children to make themselves troublesome to visitors in any way, or to
chatter freely at meals when guests were present.

He had very strong feelings about the importance of making children
familiar with the Bible. He used to say that as a mere matter of
literary education everyone ought to be familiar with the Bible from
beginning to end. He himself was exceedingly well versed in Holy
Scripture.

He also thought a good classical training very desirable for boys
(and girls also), and had no very great belief in science being
taught to any great extent during a boy's school career. Memory, he
considered, ought to be cultivated in childhood, and he did not think
that the reasoning powers ought to be much taxed in early years. He
used to say that Euclid could be learnt much more easily if it were
begun later in boyhood. He also much wished that foreign languages
should be taught very early in life, and with little or no attention
to grammar.

Perhaps a few words of reminiscence from one of his children may not
be unwelcome.


MEMORIES.--G. J. R.

  I remember that when my father was particularly amused at
  anything, he used a certain gesture, which, according to the
  'Life of Darwin,'[37] must have been precisely similar to that of
  Darwin, and was probably unconsciously copied by my father. He
  never used the gesture except when very much tickled at hearing
  some amusing story; when the climax of the story was reached he
  would burst into a peal of hearty laughter, at the same time
  bringing his hand heavily but noiselessly down upon his knee or
  on the table near him.

  When we were at Geanies, our greatest delight was 'to go out
  shooting with father.' We used to tramp for hours together over
  turnip and grass fields behind my father and the gamekeeper. We
  used to enjoy the expeditions so much better if our father was
  the only sportsman, for then we had him all to ourselves. We were
  very small then; our ages were ten, nine, and six respectively,
  but we were good walkers and we never became tired. What little
  sunburnt, healthy, grubby children we were to be sure! When
  Bango, the setter, pointed at a covey, we all had to stand quite
  still while our father walked forward towards the dog. Directly
  the covey rose we all 'ducked' for safety. I shall never forget
  the joy and pride we felt when a bird fell, and we ran with
  shouts of triumph to pick it up. Then the delight of eating lunch
  under a hedge or in a wood! That was a time of jokes and fun,
  and we talked as freely and unrestrainedly as we liked about all
  kinds of subjects. Then came some more tramping in the turnips,
  and we would journey homewards, a weary but very happy little
  party. The counting of the game would follow, and our pride was
  very great when the number of brace was high, for we felt that we
  had been helping our father to slay the partridges. In fact, we
  thought that Sandy, the gamekeeper, was a very useless personage
  when we went out, for did we not mark as well as, or better, than
  he did? And surely we could carry the game bags; they were not
  very heavy even when they were full to bursting!


There was something very beautiful in the respect and reverence which
George Romanes felt for children and for child-life, and a sonnet 'To
my Children' expresses these feelings:--

    'Of all the little ones whom I have known
      Ye are so much the fairest in my view--
      So much the sweetest and the dearest few--
    That not because ye are my very own
    Do I behold a wonder that is shown
      Of loveliness diversified in you:
      It is because each nature as it grew
    Surpassed a world of joy already grown.

    If months bestow such purpose on the years,
      May not the years work out a greater plan?
    Vast are the heights which form this 'vale of tears,'
      And though what lies beyond we may not scan,
    Thence came my little flock--strayed from their spheres,
      As lambs of God turned children into man.'

As has been said, for music Mr. Romanes had an absolute passion. A
good concert of chamber or of orchestral music was absolute happiness
to him, and he heard a great deal in these years. One or two of his
friends were excellent musicians. To one of these he once wrote a
sonnet, 'To a Member of the Bach Choir,'[38] and sent it to her in
the form of a Christmas card, producing much pleasant mystification
and laughter when it was discovered from whom the sonnet came.


  _To Miss Paget._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park: December 27, 1887.

  Dear Miss Paget,--If my sonnet gave half as much pleasure as
  your note, I am sure we have both the best reasons to be glad.
  The letter was as much a surprise to me as the former was to
  you, because, far from seeing the 'ungraciousness' of yesterday,
  even then I thought that my reward was much in excess of my
  deserving. But your further response of to-day has given me a
  greater happiness than I can tell; let it, therefore, be told
  in some of the greatest words of the greatest man I ever knew.
  These you will find in the first nine lines of a letter on page
  323, vol. ii., of the 'Life of Darwin,' and in one respect you
  have conferred an additional benefit, for, unlike him, I did not
  previously know that my own feelings of friendship were so fully
  reciprocated. If you think that this amounts to a confession of
  dulness on my part, my only excuse is that I formed too just an
  estimate of my own merits as compared with those of a friend. All
  that the latter were, or in this estimate must ever continue to
  be, I shall not now venture to say; for, if I did, the peculiar
  ethics of the Paget family (which you have been good enough to
  explain) would certainly pound this letter into a pulp. But there
  are two remarks which I may hazard. The first is, that I make it
  a point of what may be called æsthetic conscience never to write
  anything in verse which is not perfectly _sincere_. The next
  is, that my dulness is not so bad as to have prevented me from
  observing the Sebastian attachment.

  Last Christmas I lost my greatest and my dearest friend.[39] This
  Christmas I have found that I had a better friend than I was
  aware of. For the seasonable kindness, therefore, of your truly
  Yule-tide consolation, _gratias tibi ago_.

  Ever yours, most sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


For some years a delightful society existed in London, known as the
'Home Quartet Union,' the members of which met at different houses
and listened to perfect music performed by first-rate artists under
perfect conditions.

There were few happier evenings in his life than those spent in such
a way.

Of all composers, Beethoven represented to him everything that
was highest in art or poetry; for Beethoven, Mr. Romanes had much
the same reverence and admiration which he felt for Darwin, and
perhaps Beethoven, in other and very different ways, taught him and
influenced him much.

He was very catholic in his musical tastes, except perhaps that
Italian opera never greatly fascinated him. Wagner's operas, on the
other hand, became a great delight, particularly after a visit to
Baireuth in 1889, where he saw Parsifal and Meistersinger.

Politics interested Mr. Romanes moderately. He was by nature and
by family tradition a Conservative, but he cared very little for
parties, and admired great men on whichever side of the House they
sat.

Perhaps of all living politicians, the one for whom he had the
greatest enthusiasm and respect was Mr. Arthur Balfour. For him,
both as a politician and as a thinker, Mr. Romanes had an unbounded
admiration.


EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL[40]

  _Feb. 1881._--Went to Mr. Norman Lockyer. Several people,
  including William Black, the novelist, were there. After Mr.
  Lockyer had shown us several experiments in spectrum analysis,
  a lady asked him 'What is the use of the spectroscope?' Called
  on Mr. Cotter Morison and saw some beautiful books. He is a
  wonderfully good talker.

  _June 1881._--Dinner at the Spottiswoodes'. Mr. Browning was
  there and talked much about Victor Hugo. He mentioned that when
  Wordsworth was told that Miss Barrett had married Mr. Browning,
  he replied, 'It's a good thing these two understand each other,
  for no one else understands them.'


  Garvock, Perthshire: November 5, 1881.

  My dearest Charlotte,--I thought you would like the photos, and
  your letter to-day more than justifies my anticipation. Coming
  events cast their shadows before, and it will not now be long
  before you see the former. These are both exceedingly well. I
  wish you could see little Ethel dancing. It is now her greatest
  amusement, and she does it with all the state and gravity of an
  eighteenth century _grande dame_.

  Many thanks for your prompt action about the proofs. You did
  everything in the best possible way, as I knew you would. It is a
  great blessing you were in London at the time, as the caretaker
  would be sure to have made some mistake, and time is pressing.

  The duke has answered me in this week's 'Nature,' and likewise
  has Carpenter. I have written a rejoinder for next week's issue
  in a tone which I have tried to make at once dignified and blunt.

  I send you a riddle which I have just made. See if you can answer
  it in your next.

    'My first is found in Scripture,
      My second hangs in air,
    My third a thing to all unknown,
      Yet maps can tell you where.

    My whole is neither fact nor thing,
      A word, yet not a word,
    And if you stand me on my head,
      I'm bigger by a third.'[41]

  Much love from both to both.

  Yours ever the same,
  GEORGE.


In this Journal constant mention occurs of concerts and of the
pleasure given by amateur musical friends. The late Professor Rowe's
name often occurs, he succeeded Professor Clifford at University
College, and besides his great mathematical attainments he was also a
most accomplished musician. He played Schumann especially in the most
poetic way.


  _Journal, Feb. 1882._--Lecture by Professor Tyndall on the action
  of molecular heat. Triumphant vindication of his own work against
  Magnus and Tait.

  _April 2._--Sunday, the 25th, we spent at Oxford, met the Warden
  of Keble in Mr. F. Paget's rooms, as a year ago we had met Dr.
  Liddon. Met Mr. Vernon Harcourt at Christ Church.

  _May._--Met Shorthouse, author of 'John Inglesant,' at the F.
  Pollocks'. He spoke of Mr. Scott-Holland's review of his book.
  Sir T. Bramwell lectured the other day at the Royal Institution
  on the making of the Channel tunnel, and was as amusing as usual.

  _June._--Interesting talk with Mr. J. R. Green. Both J. R. G.
  and G. J. R. agreed that Herbert Spencer, Professor Huxley, and
  Leslie Stephen only represented one side of the question, _i.e._
  that conduct can only be called moral when it is beneficial to
  the race, and that the ethical quality of an action is determined
  solely by its effects as beneficial or injurious. This purely
  mechanical view of morality deprives morality of what both
  speakers considered the essential elements of morality as such,
  _i.e._ the feeling of right and wrong, so that, _e.g._, ants and
  bees, according to this canon, have a right to be considered more
  truly moral than men.

  The view taken by J. R. G. and G. J. R. was that the essential
  element of morality resided in feeling and inclination.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: June 9.

  My dearest Charlotte,--We are all well and lively. Ascot and
  an 'at home' yesterday; to-day artists' studios, dinner at the
  Pagets', and Sanderson's lecture; to-morrow, College of Surgeons'
  reception and dinner party of our own; and next week, one, two,
  or three engagements for every day. 'Babylon' is in full swing,
  and I heard yesterday, from the head of the Census department,
  that for the last ten years it has been growing at the rate of
  1,000 per week.

  I have only time to write a few lines to thank you and the mother
  for the very jolly letters received this morning, and to let you
  know that we are all well.

  The reason of my haste now is this extraordinary discovery that
  has been made in the Botanical Gardens, and which you have
  probably read about in the 'Times.' Medusæ have been found in
  swarms in the fresh-water tank of the Victoria Regina Lily.
  Such a thing as a fresh-water Medusa has never been heard of
  before, and I want to lose no time in getting to work upon his
  physiology. You see, when I don't go to the jelly-fish the
  jelly-fish come to me, and I am bound to have jelly-fish wherever
  I go.

  It would have been very odd if I had been the discoverer, as I
  should have been had I known that there was a living Victoria
  Regis, for then I should have gone to see the plant, and would
  not have failed to see the Medusæ. Only in that case I might have
  begun to grow superstitious, and to think that in some way my
  fate was bound up in jelly-fish.

  I must get to work soon because all the naturalists are in a high
  state of excitement, and there has been a regular scramble for
  priority.

  The worst about this jelly-fish is that it will only live in a
  temperature of 90°, so I shall have to work at it in the Victoria
  House, which is kept at a temperature of 100°, and makes one
  'sweat.' But I shall not work long at a time.


From 1882 to 1890 Mr. Romanes rented Geanies, a beautiful place
overlooking the Moray Firth. It belongs to a cousin of the Romanes
family, Captain Murray, of the 81st Regiment. Captain Murray's mother
and sisters lived not far away, and the Murrays and Romanes formed a
little coterie in that not very populous neighbourhood.

He continued to be an ardent sportsman, and probably his happiest
days were those he spent tramping over moors or plodding through
turnips in those October days of perfect beauty, which seem
especially peculiar to Scotland.

The surroundings of Geanies, without being romantically beautiful,
have a charm of their own. There is a certain melancholy and
loneliness about the inland landscape round Geanies which appealed
strongly to him. It is a place abounding in every kind of sea-bird,
and it is almost impossible to describe the weird, uncanny effect
which the long endless twilight of the summer, the silence broken by
hootings of owls, by the scream of a sea-gull, produce on one.

It is an old rambling house with long passages and mysterious
staircases, and, as the children found, endless conveniences for
playing at hide-and-seek. The library is a most lovely room, lined
with bookcases, and leading into an old-fashioned garden, full of
sweet-smelling flowers.

It is impossible to imagine a more ideal abode for a poet, a
naturalist, a botanist, a sportsman, than this, his summer home; and
as Mr. Romanes was, to some extent, all four, Geanies was a place of
exceeding happiness to him.

Two of his sonnets are dedicated to his dogs, 'To my Setters,'
and 'To Countess,' and the following letter will show him as a
sportsman.

[Illustration: GEANIES, ROSS-SHIRE

_Reproduced from a photograph by Messrs. W. Smith & Co. Tain_]


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  Achalibster,[42] Caithness: August 14, 1883.

  To-day turned out not at all bad after all; and although there
  was a good deal too much rain I had a glorious time. Bag twenty
  brace of grouse, one brace plover, one hare, one duck; I could
  easily have got more, only Bango got so tired in the afternoon
  that we knocked off at five o'clock, moreover I did not begin
  till eleven, as I did not wake till ten! So the twenty brace was
  shot in about five hours. The new setter 'Flora' is a beauty. She
  is extraordinarily like Bango, but with a prettier face. She is a
  splendid worker.


Even at Geanies he always 'worked' for some part of the day, and
sport, tennis, boating, filled up the rest of his time.

Very often there was a house party, and the evenings were
particularly bright--merry talk, games, very amateurish theatricals,
learned discussions. Nothing came amiss to the master of the house.
He was always a little apt to be absent-minded and dreamy, and his
pet name, bestowed on him by the dearest and merriest of all the
merry 'Geanies brotherhood' was 'Philosopher.' It stuck, and many
people only knew him by that name.

No one ever appreciated a good story more than he, and, as a friend
has said, 'his laugh was so merry and so often heard.'

His own jokes were invariably free from any unkindness, and he did
not in the least appreciate repartee or epigram, the point of which
lay chiefly, if not wholly, in unkindness. Many friends enlivened
his summer home, and all those who paid a second visit were known as
the 'Geanies brotherhood.'


  _Journal, Geanies, July 26._--Yesterday came the terrible news of
  Mr. Frank Balfour's sudden death.[43] His loss is irreparable. It
  is only a month since we met him at Cambridge, looking so well,
  quite recovered from his recent illness; we were looking forward
  to his promised visit.

  _Sept._--Mr. Lockyer, the Bruntons, and the Burdon Sandersons
  have been here. Memorial Poem to Darwin begun.

  _Nov. 14, Edinburgh._--Met for the first time Mr. and Mrs.
  Butcher, who were just taking possession of the Greek Chair; also
  Professor Blackie, who was _himself_, and talked much of the
  insolence of John Bull.

  _Jan. 1883._--Dr. Sanderson is elected Professor of Physiology at
  Oxford.


To this election was due the ultimate change in Mr. Romanes' life in
1890, when he followed Dr. Sanderson to Oxford, attracted mainly by
the facilities for physiological research.

On Jan. 2 of this year (1883) his mother died.

Mr. Romanes lectured at the Royal Institution in January, and
immediately afterwards went abroad on one of the only two Continental
tours he took simply for pleasure. He much enjoyed this Italian
journey, and the rhyming instinct woke up in him greatly. He wrote
a good deal about this time, and one of his sonnets has reference
to this journey--'Florence.' He also made acquaintance for the
first time with a good many well-known novels, read to him during
a temporary illness at Florence--the precursor, alas, of many such
times of novel-reading. He shared Mr. Darwin's tastes for simple,
pure, love stories, and one of the party at Florence well remembers
how 'The Heir of Redclyffe' brought tears to his eyes. For this and
'The Chaplet of Pearls,' read to him some years later, he had a great
admiration.


  _Journal, March 28, 1883._--Mr. F. Paget's wedding in St. Paul's,
  a special anthem by Stainer. The Warden of Keble and Dr. Liddon
  married them, and the whole service was very impressive.

  _June._--Mr. Spottiswoode's death has been a terrible blow.
  Service at the Abbey. We put off our party on June 27th; it
  seemed improper to have a party, mainly composed of scientific
  people, the very day after the death of the President of the
  Royal Society.

  _12th._--Dinner at the Pagets'. Met Browning,[44] who is entirely
  on Carlyle's side _à propos_ of Froude's recent revelations.

  _15th._--Went to Professor and Mrs. Allman, at Parkston. He is a
  most fascinating naturalist of the old type, caring for birds,
  and beasts, and flowers.

  Met Mr. E. Clodd the other night, who alluded to 'Physicus'[45]
  and the tone of depression in the book. ('Candid Examination of
  Theism.')


This year Mr. Romanes and Professor Ewart set up a small laboratory on
the Geanies coast, and the Journal notes:


  Professor Ewart could not get the farmhouse he hoped, and this
  was unfortunate, as he had written to the British Association
  and invited one or two foreigners to come and work and live in
  this farmhouse. In vain were the foreigners warned not to come,
  for one evening in walked a young Dane, who preceded a postcard
  he had sent announcing his arrival. Very nice, and extremely
  embarrassed at finding himself in a country house where people
  dressed for dinner.

  However, he got accommodation in the neighbourhood and worked
  at Ascidians, but the experiment of inviting stray foreign
  scientists was abandoned.

  _Sept._--The Allmans, Turners, and Mr. Lockyer have been here,
  and we have been getting up some private theatricals.

  _Jan. 1884._--Lecture at the Royal Institution on 'the Darwinian
  Theory of Instinct.'


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  January 5, 1884.

  I am preparing a beautiful surprise for Ethel after she comes
  down again. The library is to have its end wall papered and
  panelled, the conservatory is to be painted green, and filled
  with stands of flowers, and the little room is to have the window
  filled with stained glass, the walls, ceiling, and doors,
  beautifully papered and decorated. I expect my book to pay the
  bills. Is not this a nice idea?

  Little Ethel's ideas about writing, by the way, are original.
  A few days ago she wanted me to play at gee-gee. I said, 'No,
  Ethel, father is writing.' She asked, 'Writing letters or writing
  book?' I said, 'Writing book.' Whereupon she made the shrewd
  remark--'Father not writing to anybody, father can play gee-gee.'
  So much for her estimate of my popularity as an author.


  _Journal, April._--Lecture at Manchester; stayed with Professor
  Boyd Dawkins.


This year Mr. Romanes attended Canon Curteis' 'Boyle Lectures' at
Whitehall.


  _Journal, March 1883._--'G. Lectured at ----. One of the hearers
  asked whether in the lecturer's opinion man or animals had first
  appeared on the earth! G. spent a pleasant day at Bromsgrove with
  the F. Pagets.'


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: June 1, 1884.

  My dearest James,--Little Ethel has just brought me the enclosed
  letter to send to you. She had written it as far as the up and
  down lines go, and said it was to tell you how much she loved
  you, and how sorry she was that she should not see you when she
  goes to Geanies. She then asked me to tell her how to write kiss.
  I told her that in letters they write kiss by a cross, and then
  she made the crosses. She also made me promise to send you the
  letter at once, without any delay; and as the idea of writing
  you a letter was entirely her own, I do as I was told. You may
  take it as a definite expression of the emotions, even though it
  be not a very intelligible expression of ideas.

  She wants to know why you are going away, and whether you will
  write to her when you are away, and a heap of other questions of
  the same kind.

  We are all well now, and I am just going with the two Ethels to a
  children's service, which they both enjoy. It is very pretty to
  hear the little one singing with the other children, which she
  does perfectly in tune.

  They are waiting for me now, so with best love from all,

  Yours ever the same,
  GEORGE.


In 1885 came the first warnings of ill-health. Mr. Romanes had
a short but very sharp illness, and after that year he suffered
frequently from gout, which necessitated visits to various foreign
'cures.' He was a perfect travelling companion, he liked to have
arrangements made for him, and was never discomposed if anything went
wrong, never put out by any of the ordinary mischances of travel.
Although he always professed indifference to architecture and art, he
would grow quite boyishly enthusiastic over some cathedral, as his
sonnets to Amiens, and Christ Church, Oxford,[46] testify, and for
sculpture he had a real love.

In May 1885 came the first marked public utterance which showed that
Mr. Romanes was now in a very different mental attitude to that in
which he wrote his 'Candid Examination of Theism.'

He delivered the Rede Lecture at Cambridge, and in it he criticises
the materialistic position. (It must be remembered that his
anti-Theistic book was published anonymously, and at that time he had
no intention of ever referring to it.)

The reaction set in very soon after the 'Candid Examination' was
published.

He was severe, as it seemed often to those who knew him best, unduly
severe with himself, and often described himself as utterly agnostic
when possibly 'bewildered' would have better described him.

Through these years, underneath all the outward happiness, the
intense love for scientific work, there was the same longing and
craving for the old belief, and before his eyes was always the
question, 'Is Christian faith possible or intellectually justifiable
in the face of scientific discovery?'

These years between 1879 and 1890 were years of frequent despondency,
of almost despair, but also of incessant seeking after truth, and
year after year he grew gradually nearer Christian belief.

The letters which follow will be interesting in this place. They
arose out of a correspondence in 'Nature.'[47]


  _To Professor Asa Gray._

  May 16, 1883.

  Dear Professor Gray,--The receipt of your kind letter of
  the 1st instant has given me in full measure the sincerest
  kind of pleasure; for in the light supplied by your second
  letter communicated to 'Nature' I came deeply to regret my
  misunderstanding of the spirit in which you wrote the first one,
  and now you enable me to feel that we have shaken hands over the
  matter.

  For my own part I am always glad when differences in matter of
  opinion admit of being honestly expressed without enmity, and
  still more so when, as in the present case, this discussion leads
  to a basis of friendship. I therefore thank you most heartily for
  your letter, and remain yours very truly,

  G. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--If you have not already happened to read a book called 'A
  Candid Examination of Theism,' I should like to send you a copy.
  I wrote it six or seven years ago and published it anonymously
  in 1878. I do not now hold to all the arguments, nor should I
  express myself so strongly on the argumentative force of the
  remainder, but I should like you to read the book, in order to
  show you how gladly I would enter your camp if I could only see
  that it is on the side of Truth.


  December 30, 1883.

  Dear Professor Gray,--I sent you my papers as a return for those
  which you so kindly sent to me, and for which I have written to
  thank you before. I quite agree with your view, that the doctrine
  of the human mind having been proximately evolved from lower
  minds is not incompatible with the doctrine of its having been
  due to a higher and supreme mind. Indeed, I do not think the
  theory of evolution, even if fully proved, would seriously affect
  the previous standing of this more important question.

  The sorrow is, that this question is so far removed from the
  reach of any trustworthy answer. Or, at least, such is the sorrow
  if that answer when it comes is to prove an affirmative. If it
  is to be an eternal sleep, no doubt it is better to live as we
  are than in the certainty of a Godless universe. But although
  we cannot find any sure answer to this momentous question, I
  cannot help feeling that it is reasonable (although it may not
  be orthodox) to cherish this much faith, that if there is a God,
  whom, when we see, we can truly worship as well as dread, He
  cannot _ex hypothesi_ be a God who will thwart the strong desire
  which He has implanted in us to worship Him, merely because we
  cannot find evidence enough to believe this or that doctrine of
  dogmatic Theology.

  But I do not know why I should thus trouble you with my troubles,
  unless it is that the kindness of your letters has broken through
  the bars by which we usually imprison such feelings from the
  world. Anyhow, I thank you for that kindness, and hope you will
  forgive this somewhat odd requital.

  Very sincerely yours,
  G. J. ROMANES.


'_The desire to worship Him._'

These words are the key-note of the religious history of the pure and
noble character which I am trying to describe.

The letters, so touching in the momentary breaking down of reserve,
give, as it were, a glimpse of the inner life, give an indication of
the struggle, the perplexity, the sorrow which eleven years later
ended in 'Eternal Peace.'

Readers of the lately published 'Thoughts on Religion' will see
how gradually he grew to perceive the _reasonableness_ of the
Christian Faith; he had never doubted the beauty, the moral worth,
the attraction of that faith. And with him it was what Dante in his
'Paradiso' puts into S. Bernard's mouth:

    'A quella luce cotal si diventa,
      Che volgersi da lei per altro aspetto
      È impossibil che mai si consenta.'

And through all these years there was a constant willingness to try
to aid other people in their difficulties, to remove stumbling-blocks
which hindered others. He was always willing to discuss problems of
belief, always perfectly fair and candid, and there were not a few
who, since his death, have spoken of the real help which he gave
them. He did not drop religious observances; on Sunday in London he
usually went to Christ Church, Albany Street, of which the present
Bishop of St. Albans was then vicar, and for some years at Geanies
he had a short Evening Service for guests and servants who could not
drive ten miles to church.

This service, unless a clergyman happened to be staying at Geanies,
he conducted himself, and ended it by reading a sermon. He had all
his Presbyterian ancestors' love for a good discourse, and serious
efforts had to be made to prevent him from reading too long a sermon.

Mozley's 'University Sermons' he liked particularly, and when these
were divided, they were tolerated by his audience, who at first
considered them much too long. He also read many of Dean Church's
sermons.

He first knew the Dean in 1883, and although he only went very
occasionally to the Deanery, he was greatly impressed by the
striking personality of the great divine and scholar, whom to know
was to love. The Dean's beautiful style, his great learning, his
intellectual sympathy with perplexities and troubles of heart and
mind, and the indefinable air of distinction which a great writer
stamps on every bit of work he undertakes, all appealed to Mr.
Romanes; and above and beyond all these, the almost austere loftiness
of thought, the moral heights implied in Dean Church's writings,
seized on the mind of one who, beyond all else, reverenced personal
character and personal goodness.

He really enjoyed reading Dean Church's sermons, and they exercised
much influence on him. For Newman, on the other hand, he had little
liking, and indeed he never did Newman adequate justice. He had
promised a friend just before his death to read more of Newman, and
discover for himself the great gifts of that wonderful man, but there
was not time. Only one bit of Newman's writing was dear to him,
'Lead, kindly Light.'

The following letter rose out of a conversation Mr. Romanes had with
Dr. Paget, during one of the Oxford visits:


  The Palace, Ely: June 15, 1886.

  My dear Romanes,--I have often and anxiously thought over the
  question which you asked me when you were at Oxford about your
  boy's education, and the part which you should take in his
  religious training: and I would venture, with most true and
  affectionate gratitude for your trust, to write a few lines in
  partial qualification of what I then said.

  I start on the ground of your own wish (for which indeed I am
  with all my heart thankful) that your boy's character should
  be fashioned after the Christian type and under the influence
  of Christ. And I am as anxious as ever that, even if your own
  estimate of the evidences of Christianity should for a long
  while remain as it is, your children may never, in their later
  years, feel that you ever taught them anything which you did not
  believe: on every ground I long to avoid all danger of such a
  thought crossing their minds. But at the same time I do long that
  they may be spared to the very last possible moment the knowledge
  that in the judgment of the mind which they, I hope, will most
  reverence and love, the bases of their religious trust and hope
  are uncertain. It is only far on in life, I think, that a man
  comes to realise either the vast importance of things which are
  not held with absolute certainty, or the mysterious and complex
  nature of the act of faith, and the discipline of obscurity, and
  the way in which real spiritual progress may be going on where
  the mind seems only to be holding on, as it were, with fear and
  trembling.

  To a boy of sixteen the mere knowledge of uncertainty in his
  father's mind may drain all the moral cogency out of the whole
  conception of religion:--the very suspicion of the uncertainty
  may unnerve him more than the full realisation of the doubt would
  change his father's aim and hope in doing his duty.

  And so, at the risk of paining you--believe me, I would rather
  have the pain than give it you--and presuming very thankfully on
  the wish of which you spoke, I would plead that your children
  might remain as long as possible in ignorance of your uncertainty
  and anxiety; that they should only know in a general way that the
  religious influences, the principles of their Godward life which
  they receive, are given to them by your wish--that you would have
  them grow up after that type, with that hope and aspiration; and
  I would plead that _for their sakes_ you should suffer the pain,
  great as it may be, of being reticent where you long to be ever
  communicative, ever unreserved. You may be unspeakably thankful
  some day that you did so suffer:--and, whatever comes, you will
  be sure of your children's deepest love and gratitude, if ever
  they should know that this was one of your acts of self-sacrifice
  for them.

  Please forgive me, dear Romanes, where I have written
  blunderingly, or given you unnecessary pain. I pray God to guide
  and teach and gladden both you and yours, and I am

  Your affectionate friend,
  FRANCIS PAGET.


  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: June 24, 1886.

  My dear Paget,--I should indeed require to be made of unduly
  sensitive material, if either the extreme kindness of your
  thought or the most considerate delicacy of your expression could
  give me pain. Pain I have, but it is of a kind that is beyond the
  power of friends either to mitigate or to increase.

  The advice which you give accords precisely with my own view of
  the matter, and it is needless to say that in such an agreement
  I find no small degree of satisfaction. Moreover, the principles
  which it thus appears to be my duty to adopt are made easy for
  me.... So that on the whole it does not now appear to me that in
  its practical aspects the problem is likely to prove difficult
  of solution; although theoretically, or as a matter of ethics, I
  do think it is a complex question whether (or how far) parents
  should teach dogmas as facts, or matters of faith as matters of
  knowledge. Happily, however, ethics are to morals very much what
  shadow is to sunshine; and in seeking to follow the right or the
  good, instinct is often a better guide than syllogism.

  And now, in conclusion, let me endeavour--inadequately as it must
  be--to express my deep sense of gratitude to you for having so
  earnestly taken my troubles into your consideration. I assure you
  that your letter has touched me truly, and that on its account I
  am more than ever happy to subscribe myself

  Your affectionate friend,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


Journal says:--


  _April 12, 1885._--Went with the Church family to St. Paul's and
  heard a fine sermon from Dr. Liddon. He spoke very touchingly of
  Lady Selborne's death, and also alluded to Max Müller's new book.

  Have been to Pfleiderer's Hibbert Lectures.[48] We met Pfleiderer
  the other day, and he described a Sunday in which he had tried
  to study English religious life. Spurgeon, Parker, and, I think,
  Stopford Brooke or Haweis, I forget which, he took as samples!
  Pfleiderer also went to St. Paul's on the day the Bishop of
  Lincoln[49] was consecrated, and as he got within earshot he
  heard Dr. Liddon's silvery voice pronouncing his own name _not_
  with approval.

  _Geanies, August._--Mr. Cotter Morison is here, and is most
  amusing. Mr. Horsburgh asked two comic riddles: 'Why are men like
  telescopes and women like telegrams?'

  Men are like telescopes, because they are made to be drawn out
  and shut up; and women are like telegrams because they far exceed
  the males (mails) in intelligence.

  G. fiddled at an amateur concert at Tain.

  Mr. F. Galton is here. He told us an amusing child's question:
  'How did sausages get along when they were alive?'


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  Geanies, Ross-shire: November 7, 1885.

  The two Ethels left this afternoon _minus_ their luggage and
  luncheon, which arrived at the station with the dog-cart just
  as the train was leaving. Pathetic it was to see their hungry
  eyes looking at the neat luncheon basket from the train windows!
  We are all well here. L---- is here. He has now fired his first
  hundred cartridges, and has nothing to show but a brace of cats
  which he took a pot shot at in the trees.


  November 12.

  I am now playing at the last day in the old house, and doing so
  in the library all by myself. L---- left this morning, and we all
  leave to-morrow. Gerald now leads me from one room to another,
  and after opening the door and looking round each says, 'All
  gone!'

  I have somewhat relieved the monotony of my solitary life by
  buying a horse. This you will no doubt think is a purchase well
  timed and thus worthy of a philosopher. For six months at least
  I shall have to pay for his keep, and never have a chance of a
  single bit of use for him all that time. Yet, strange to say, I
  think I have made a good bargain.


  _Nov., Edinburgh._--Dined at Dalmeny. We met Mr. and Mrs.
  Gladstone, and also Lieutenant Greely, of Arctic fame.

  _Nov., London._--Dinner with the F. Galtons, and met the Leckys
  and other nice people. Mr. Galton says the study of statistics
  fascinates him just as skating on thin ice does some people--it's
  so perilous.


Returning for a little while to the scientific work of these years,
one may say that they were chiefly devoted to the more philosophical
side of his work as a naturalist.

'Animal Intelligence,' 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' appeared
respectively in 1881 and 1883, and are works designed to prove that
the law of evolution is universal, and applies to the mind of man as
well as to his bodily organisation.

Mr. Romanes read widely and observed much, and no one less deserved
the charge of writing without observing, or of being a 'paper
philosopher.' Both these books abound in stories of animals, and are
full of interest for anyone caring at all for 'beasts,' quite apart
from the special object of the books.

Lecturing and reviewing were, so to speak, pastimes to him, and gave
him little trouble. One lecture given at the Royal Institution on
'The Mental Differences between Men and Women' drew upon the head of
the unlucky lecturer a great storm of indignation--why, the writer of
this memoir has never been able to discover.

In May 1886, Mr. Romanes read a paper before the Linnean Society on
'Physiological Selection, an additional suggestion on the origin of
species.' This paper was the outcome of many years' study of the
philosophy of evolution, during which time he had gradually been
coming to the conclusion that natural selection cannot be regarded as
the sole guiding factor in the production of species, but that there
must be some other cause at work in directing the course of evolution.

The theory of natural selection rests on two classes of observable
facts: first, that all plants and animals are engaged in a perpetual
struggle for existence, there being in every generation of every
species a great many more individuals born than can possibly survive;
and secondly, that the offsprings, although closely resembling the
parent form, do present individual variations. It follows, therefore,
that those individuals presenting variation in any way beneficial
to them in the struggle for existence will survive as being the
fittest to do so, Nature, so to speak, selecting certain individuals
of each generation, enabling them not only to live themselves, but
also to transmit their favourable qualities to their offspring. If a
special line of variation is in some way preserved, there may result
a variety so fixed and so distinct from the parent and collateral
related forms as to constitute a separate species.

Further, since the environment (_i.e._ the sum total of the external
conditions of life) is continually changing, it follows that natural
selection may slowly alter a type in adaptation to the slowly
changing environment, and if in any case the alterations effected
are sufficient in amount to lead naturalists to name the result a
distinct species, then natural selection has transmuted one specific
type into another.

Mr. Romanes pointed out that the theory of natural selection only
accounts for such organic changes as are of _use_ to the species--by
use signifying life-preserving--that it is, in fact, a theory of the
origin and cumulative development of adaptations, whether these be
distinctive of species, or of genera, families, classes, &c.

The question then arises, do species differ from species _solely_
in points of a useful character, as they undoubtedly should do if
natural selection has been the sole factor in their formation?
Investigation shows that systematists recognise a species by a
collection of characters, the value of a character depending not
on its _utility_, but upon its _stability_; in fact, a large
proportional number of specific characters, such as minute details
of structure, form, and colour, are wholly without meaning from a
utilitarian point of view. Investigation further shows that the most
general of all the 'notes' of a true species is _cross-infertility_,
that is, the infertility of the offspring of two individuals
belonging to separate species: this, it was urged, could not be due
to the action of natural selection. Lastly, apart from the primary
distinction of cross-infertility, and the inutility of so many of the
secondary specific distinctions, neither of which can be explained
by the action of natural selection, Mr. Romanes was strongly of the
opinion that even if a beneficial variation did arise, the swamping
effects of free intercrossing would reabsorb it, and so render
evolution of species in divergent lines, as distinguished from linear
transmutation, impossible. This last difficulty can only be met
by assuming that the same beneficial variation arises in a number
of individuals simultaneously, for which assumption our present
knowledge furnishes no warrant. If natural selection is brought
forward as the sole factor in the guidance of organic evolution,
then he considered that these difficulties remain insurmountable;
if, however, it is regarded as a factor, even the chief factor, then
these difficulties vanish, it being consistent, in the latter case,
to hold the other factor, or factors, responsible for an explanation
of the difficulties in question. It was the object of this paper to
suggest another factor in the formation of species, which, although
_independent_ of natural selection, was in no way _opposed_ to it,
and might be called _supplementary_ to it, and was at the same time
capable of explaining the facts, of the _inutility of many specific
characters_, the _cross-infertility of allied species_, and the
_non-occurrence of free intercrossing_. Very briefly indicated,
Mr. Romanes' line of argument is as follows:--Every generation of
every species presents an enormous number of variations, of which
only the ones that happen to be useful are preserved by natural
selection. The useless variations are allowed to die out immediately
by intercrossing.

Consequently, if intercrossing be prevented, there is no reason why
unuseful variations should not be perpetuated by heredity quite as
much as useful ones when under the nursing influence of natural
selection. Thus, if from any cause, a section of a species is
prevented from intercrossing with the rest of its parent form, it is
to be expected that new varieties--for the most part of a trivial and
unuseful kind--should arise within that section, and in time pass
into new species. This supposition is borne out by the nature of the
flora and fauna of oceanic islands, which are particularly rich in
peculiar species, and where intercrossing was, of course, prevented
with the original parent forms by the action of the geographical
boundaries.

However, closely allied species are not always, or even generally,
separated by geographical boundaries, and the cross-infertility
remains to be explained. The cardinal feature of Mr. Romanes' theory
is that the initial step in the origin of species is the arising
of this infertility as an independent variation, by which, free
intercrossing with the parent form on a common area is prevented,
and specific differentiation rendered possible. Innumerable varieties
are known to occur which do not pass into distinct species, the
reason being that this initial variation, that is, incipient
infertility whereby the swamping effects of intercrossing might
be obviated, was lacking, and the variations became re-absorbed.
That is, given any degree of sterility towards the parental form
which does not extend to the varietal form, then a new species must
take its origin. Without the bar of sterility, in Mr. Romanes'
opinion, free intercrossing must render the formation of species
impossible. Mutual sterility is thus the cause, not the result, of
specific differentiation. As regards the occurrence of this initial
variation, the reproductive system is known to be highly variable,
its variability taking the form either of increased fertility, or of
sterility in all degrees, and depending on either extrinsic causes
(changes of food, climate, &c.), or on an intrinsic cause arising in
the system itself.

From the nature of this additional factor at work in the formation of
species, Mr. Romanes called his theory 'physiological selection.'

Physiological selection is conceived of as co-operating with natural
selection, the former allowing the latter to act by interposing
its law of sterility, with the result that the secondary specific
characters may be either adaptive or non-adaptive in character.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  Aix-les-Bains: May 1886.

  The Linnean Society paper went off admirably. There was a larger
  attendance than ever I saw there before. But this may have been
  partly due to the president (Lubbock) having had a paper down for
  the same evening. He was considerate enough to withdraw it at
  the last moment so as to leave all the evening for mine. I spoke
  for an hour and a half, and the discussion lasted another hour.
  The paper itself I have brought with me here, and am now putting
  the last touches upon it.

  Probably I shall have to try the rat experiment again, if
  the young ones show no signs of piebalding. But look at them
  occasionally to see.

  There would be no use in getting the parrot to make a gesture
  sign at the same time as he makes a verbal one; for, as you say,
  he would only show that he can establish an association between
  a phrase and a thing (whether object, quality, or action), and
  about this there is no question. The question is whether he can
  use verbal signs, not only as stereotyped in phrases (when they
  are really equivalent to only one word), but as movable types,
  which he can transpose for the purpose of expressing _different_
  ideas with the _same_ words.


He writes concerning a Junior Scientific Society which had a meeting
to discuss his theory:


  'The meeting was the best fun imaginable, the paper was merely
  a statement of my theory by a young man who made it very clear.
  ---- got up and expressed disapproval of the theory, but
  expressly declined to argue, so I had merely to give him some
  chaff. The young men highly enjoyed it. Afterwards they were
  enthusiastic in their applause.

  'I have no doubt, if I had not been present, the class would have
  had a very different impression both of me and my theory.'


  _To Professor Meldola._

  Geanies: September 16, 1886.

  Dear Professor Meldola,--Physiological selection seems to have
  brought a regular nest of hornets about my head. If I had known
  there was to have been so much talk about it at the British
  Association I should have gone up to defend the new-born. If you
  were there, can you let me know the main objections that were
  urged? It seems to me there is a good deal of misunderstanding
  abroad, due, no doubt, to the insufficiency with which my theory
  has been stated. In 'studying' the paper, therefore, please
  keep steadily in view that the backbone of the whole consists
  in regarding mutual sterility as the _cause_ (or at least,
  the chief _condition_) instead of the _result_ of specific
  differentiation. This is just the opposite view to that now held
  by all evolutionists, and, I believe, by Darwin himself. (See
  'Origin,' pp. 245-246; 'Variation,' ii. pp. 171-175.) Now, if
  this view be sound, my theory is obviously not restricted to any
  one class of causes that may induce mutual sterility. Such cases
  may be either extrinsic or intrinsic as regards the reproductive
  system; they may be either direct in their action on that system
  or indirect (_e.g._ natural selection, or use and disuse, &c.,
  producing morphological changes elsewhere, which in turn react
  on that system); therefore these causes may act either on a few
  or on many individuals. Yet Wallace does not seem to see this,
  but argues in the 'Fortnightly' that they can only act on an
  individual here and there.

  I sincerely hope you will give your attention to the subject,
  because the great danger I now fear is prejudice against the
  theory on account of people not taking the trouble to understand
  it. How absurd ----, for example, giving that quotation from
  'Origin' in 'Nature,' as evidence of Mr. Darwin's having
  considered the theory. Read with its context, the passage is
  arguing (much against the writer's desire) that variations in
  the way of sterility with parent forms cannot be seized upon
  (or perpetuated as specific distinctions) by natural selection.
  But physiological selection says that such variations _do not
  require to be seized upon by natural selection_. Therefore, so
  far as the passage in question proves anything, it tends to
  show that nothing could have been further from the mind of the
  writer than a theory which would have rendered his whole argument
  superfluous, and I can scarcely believe that if the theory of
  physiological selection had ever occurred to him, he would not
  have mentioned it, if only to state his objections to it, as he
  has done with regard to so many ideas of a much less feasible
  character.

  I write at length because I value your judgment more than that of
  almost anybody else upon a subject of this kind, and therefore
  I should like it to be given with your eyes open. Prejudice at
  first there must be, but there need not be misunderstanding;
  and private correspondence shows me that the theory has already
  struck root in some of the best minds who do understand it. Any
  explanation, therefore, will be gladly given you by

  Yours very truly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _To F. Darwin, Esq._

  Geanies: November 5, 1886.

  Dear Darwin,--I am much interested by the enclosed, and therefore
  much obliged to you for letting me see it. But it would have been
  made a better 'answer' if it had gone on to say something about
  the relation of such an experiment (supposing it successful)
  to the question of originating a species. Some weeks ago I was
  planning with a friend a closely analogous experiment, but
  designed to produce a 'family' which would be sterile towards
  the majority of the parent form, or not only towards one other
  'family.' And it seemed to me that if this could be done it would
  amount to the artificial creation of a new species by conscious
  selection of a physiological kind.

  But, as far as I can gather from the enclosed, the idea seems to
  be that of experimenting on the conditions leading to sterility;
  not that of regarding sterility, however conditional, as itself
  the condition of specific divergence. In other words, the passage
  seems to go upon the supposition that sterility is the result and
  not the cause of specific divergence. But if so, I do not see
  that it affects the question whether he ever contemplated the
  latter possibility.

  I have just received Seebohm's British Association paper, which,
  except when it repeats Wallace's objection about the doctrine of
  chances, elsewhere curiously contradicts all the points in his
  criticism.

  The editor of the 'Fortnightly' tells me that a further delay
  has arisen in bringing out my reply, on account of Wallace
  desiring to answer it. For my own part I think that all this fire
  of criticism at the present juncture is a mistake. As yet the
  theory is only a 'suggestion,' and, until tested, there can be no
  adequate data for forming a definite opinion.

  Therefore I regret the published opposition--those who are in
  favour do not publish only because it may tend to choke off
  co-operation in carrying out the experiments; and it was for the
  sake of securing assistance in so laborious a research that I
  published the suggestion in outline.

  I wonder who Catchpole is? His answer in 'Nature' to Wallace
  won't do.

  Yours very truly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 7, 1887.

  Dear Darwin,--Some time ago you write that I ought to read a book
  or paper by Jordan about varieties in relation to sterility. I
  cannot find any book or paper of his at the L.S. library which
  treats of this subject; could you give me the name of his essay?

  I am making arrangements for trying whether there are any degrees
  of sterility to be found between well-marked and constant
  varieties of plants. But as I have never done anything in the way
  of hybridising, perhaps you would be good enough to let me know
  whether the enclosed plan of experimenting represents the full
  and proper way of going to work. I know that you do not believe
  in the object of it, but, even supposing it to be a wild goose
  chase, there would be no harm in your telling me the best way to
  run. Then, whether the results prove positive or negative, it
  will not be open for any one to doubt them on the ground of any
  fault in the method.

  Do any objections occur to you _re_ my answer to critics in the
  'Nineteenth Century'? Of course I might have said more about
  the swamping effects of free intercrossing (which appears to
  me the only point in which I deviate at all from the 'Origin
  of Species'), but it is much too large a subject to be dealt
  with in a review. My greatest difficulty here is to conceive
  the possibility of differentiation (as distinguished from
  transmutation in linear series) without the assistance of
  isolation in some form or another.

  Yours very truly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Dear Darwin,--Criticism of an intelligent kind is what I feel
  most in need of, and therefore it is no merit on my part to like
  it when it comes.

  The point about the combined action of natural and physiological
  selection is, after all, a very subordinate one, and, as I said
  in 'Nature' some weeks ago, is the most highly speculative and
  least trustworthy part of the theory. Moreover, it is the only
  part that is directly opposed to an expressed conclusion in the
  'Origin,' though, even here, the opposition is not real. If
  natural selection can do anything at all in the way of bringing
  about sterility with parent forms, it can only do so by acting on
  the type or whole community (for I quite agree with the reasoning
  in the 'Origin,' that it cannot do so by acting on individuals);
  and whether natural selection could in any case act on a type is
  a question which your father has told me he could never quite
  make up his mind about, except in the case of social hymenoptera
  and moral sense of man.

  You will see what I mean by 'secondary variations' by looking
  at page 366 of my paper. It is merely a short-hand expression
  for all other specific differences save the sexual difference
  of sterility. My view is that these secondary differences are
  always sure to arise sooner or later in some direction or
  another wherever a portion of a species is separated from the
  rest, whether by geographical or physiological isolation, which,
  indeed, as regards the former, is no more than you (following
  Weismann, &c.) acknowledge. Now, to me it seems obvious that
  Weismann's 'variations' (_i.e._ slight changes in the form
  of shells) cannot possibly be themselves my 'physiological
  sports,' although they may very well be the consequences of
  such a sport leading to physiological isolation, and so to
  independent variation in two or three directions simultaneously,
  till afterwards blended by intercrossing. And my reason for
  thinking this is that 'Weismann's variations' always arose in
  crops at enormously long intervals of time. On the mere doctrine
  of chances it therefore becomes impossible to suppose that
  each of these variations was due to a separate physiological
  sport, although it is easy to see how each crop of them might
  have been so. For, if not, why should they always have arisen
  in crops, each member of which was demonstrably fertile with
  the other members of that crop, while no less demonstrably
  sterile with the original parent form? Therefore, what I see in
  these facts is precisely what, upon my theory, I should expect
  to see, viz. first, a 'primary variation,' or 'physiological
  sport,' arising at long intervals; secondly, closely following
  upon this, a crop of 'secondary variations' in the way of slight
  morphological changes affecting two or three different 'strains'
  simultaneously; and thirdly, an eventual blending of these
  strains by intercrossing with one another without being able to
  intercross with the surrounding and (at first) very much more
  numerous parent form.

  But I can now quite understand why you thought these facts
  were 'dead against' me; you thought that every single slight
  change of morphology must (on my theory) have had a separate
  'physiological sport' to account for it. This, however, most
  emphatically is not my theory. Physiological isolation I regard
  as having morphological consequences precisely analogous to those
  of geographical isolation; and you would not think of arguing
  that there must be a separate geographical isolation for every
  slight change of structure--for example, that a peculiar species
  of plant growing on a mountain top must have had one isolation to
  explain its change of form, and another isolation to explain its
  change of colour.

  Lastly, if you will look up Hilgendorf's paper about these snails
  of Steinheim, I think you will find it impossible to suppose
  that all these little changes (thus arising at long intervals in
  crops) can have been useful. Or, if you can still doubt, look
  up the closely analogous but much larger case of the ammonites
  investigated by Neumayr and Wurtenberger.

  What I meant about the sexual system being specially liable to
  variation is, that it is specially liable to variation in the way
  of sterility. In other words, changed conditions of life more
  readily effect variations in the primary functions of the sexual
  system than they do in general morphology. But at the same time,
  I quite agree with your view that in the last resort all changes
  of structure may be regarded as due to variations of this system.
  And, as you will see by turning to pp. 371-72 of my paper,
  important capital is made out of this doctrine.

  Now about making too much of the inutility of specific
  characters; if I do so, it is erring on the side of natural
  selection; for it clearly follows from this theory that, if
  there are any useless structures at all, they ought to occur
  with (greater?) frequency among species, where (as?) yet natural
  selection has not had time to remove them. But I cannot think I
  have here unduly favoured natural selection. For although there
  are not a few instances of apparently useless structures running
  through even an entire class (as the 'Origin' remarks), these
  are not only infinitely less numerous than apparently useless
  structures in species, but are also very much more rarely trivial.

  Now the latter fact, coupled with that of the greatly wider
  range of their occurrence, appears to me intensely to strengthen
  'the argument from ignorance,' _i.e._ to give us much more
  justification for believing that they are now, or once were, of
  use. For in the case of species, the '_once were_' possibility
  is virtually excluded.

  _A propos_ to this point, I do not believe that anyone yet has
  half done justice to natural selection in respect of its action
  subsequent to the formation of species--at least, not expressly.
  But I must shut up.

  I should greatly like to see Jordan's paper. Sir J. Hooker and
  Professor Oliver have sent me references to literature, but
  neither of them mention this.

  Why my answer to Wallace has not appeared in this month's
  'Fortnightly' I am at a loss to understand. The editor bullied me
  with letters and telegrams to have it ready in time, till I laid
  everything else aside, and sent him back the proof on the 15th.


This new theory roused the public interest (so far as the scientific
public were concerned) and produced much criticism.

There is a scientific orthodoxy as well as a theological orthodoxy
'plus loyal que le roi,' and by the ultra-Darwinians. Mr. Romanes was
regarded as being strongly tainted with heresy.

The 'Times' devoted a leader in August 1886 to the theory, and the
president of Section _D_ at the British Association at Bath in the
same month also criticised it.

A sharp discussion took place in the columns of 'Nature,' and it is
characteristic of those who took the chief part in this controversy
that their friendly relations remained undisturbed. Mr. Wallace
criticised the theory in the 'Fortnightly,' and Mr. Romanes wrote
an article in the 'Nineteenth Century' describing his beliefs on the
subject. This theory was very close to his heart, and perhaps no part
of his work was left unfinished with more keen regret.

He planned a course of experiments on plants in an alpine garden
which, through the kindness of M. Correvon, Professor of Botany at
Geneva, he was able to begin on a plot of ground near Bourg St.
Pierre, on the great St. Bernard.

Other work diverted him a good deal from this, but Mr. Romanes had
always large plans of work, looking forward through a course of years.

There were some experiments on the power dogs possess of tracking by
scent, in the autumn of 1886.

With this year came the appointment to a Lectureship in the
University of Edinburgh on 'The Philosophy of Natural History.'[50]
This lectureship Mr. Romanes held for five years, and he enjoyed the
fortnight's residence in Edinburgh it involved, and the meetings with
Edinburgh people. He gave to his class a course on the History of
Biology, and then proceeded to take them through a course of lectures
on the Evidences of Organic Evolution, on the theories of Lamarck, of
Mr. Darwin himself, and on post-Darwinian theories. These lectures he
worked up into the three years' course he gave as Fullerian Professor
at the Royal Institution, with many additions and alterations. The
substance of them now appears in 'Darwin and after Darwin,' parts
i. and ii. A third volume was to have been devoted to Physiological
Selection, and enough was prepared in the form of notes to justify
publication.

At the end of 1886 there fell on the Romanes family a bitter
sorrow. Of the Geanies 'brotherhood,' the brightest and merriest, a
remarkably handsome, joyous girl, absolutely unselfish and sweet,
most dearly loved and loving, was the first to die. Her death was a
terrible sorrow not only to her own immediate circle of relations,
but to the friends to whom she had been as a very dear sister. On
Mr. Romanes this death, so sudden and so startling, made a deep and
lasting impression. From this time more and more he turned in the
direction of faith, and his feelings found an outlet in poetry more
frequently and more effectually than before.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  Edinburgh: Christmas Day, 1886.

  My dearest Charlotte,--The time has come when it is some relief
  to write, but how shall I begin to tell the sadness of the
  saddest tragedy that has ever been put together? First the hours
  of fluctuating hope, and then the growing darkness of despair.
  She had previously asked whether Ethel and G. J.[51] had come
  down from London, and on being told that we were in the house
  was so glad. We were admitted at night, and only had to watch
  for three hours the peaceful breathing, slower, slower, slower,
  until the last. Oh, the unearthly beauty of that face! Nothing I
  have ever seen in flesh or in marble--nothing I could have ever
  conceived could approach it. But try to picture it as you knew
  it in life changed into something so yet more beautiful that it
  seemed no longer human, but the face of the angel that she was.
  Then in one room her little child, in another her mother, utterly
  broken by illness. For my own part I have never had a grief so
  great as this. Even in our sister's case there were elements of
  mitigation; but here absolutely none. Oh, it is bitter, bitter;
  so much of life's happiness emptied out and Edith, our own Edith,
  no longer here!


In memory of this friend Mr. Romanes wrote a little poem called 'To a
Bust,' and from this a few lines are given.

There is one point to which the writer of this memoir would like to
call attention.

Mr. Romanes was incapable of exaggeration, of writing for effect,
of insincerity. What he _wrote_ he _felt_, and his very simplicity
and sweetness of character, his childlike trust in the sympathy of
others, made him unreserved to his friends, to those whom he loved.

            'Upon that Christmas Eve
              We saw thee pass away,

           *       *       *       *       *

      We heard the music of thy parting breath;
        We saw a light of angels in thy face--
      A beauty so ineffable, that Death
        Was changed into a minister of Grace:

           *       *       *       *       *

        The mountains in their autumn hues,
        Of mountain reds and mountain blues,
        With heather and with highland bells,
        Await thy step on hills and fells;
        The spongy peat and dewy moss
        Remember where we used to cross--
        Remember how they loved thy tread,
        Make for thy steps their softest bed:
        The murmuring streams are calling thee,
        The woodlands sigh in every tree;
        Yet when I walk upon the shore,
        The waves are whispering--nevermore!

    Mournfully, mournfully whispering, they,
    Whispering, whispering every day,
    Thy soul in their waters, thy breath in their spray,
    Thy spirit still speaking in all that they say.
    They knew thee well, those weedy rocks,
    And now they rear their rugged blocks
              When I pass by,
              To ask me why
    They never feel thy tender hands;
    And all the yellow of the sands
              Is spread to greet
              Thy tireless feet,
    Which loved to walk them when the tide was low.

            Now when I walk alone,
            To hear the ocean moan,
            The sea-birds circling round
            Sweep almost to the ground,
    And peep and pry above my head to know
            Why thou dost never come,
            To watch them flying home,
            Upon the purple breast,
            Where daylight sinks to rest.'


The Journal 1887, 1888, and 1889 is full of mention of pleasant
dinners and meetings with interesting people. Young as Mr. Romanes
was, he attained long before he died 'that which should accompany
old age--honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,' and as one
turns over the brief records of the Journal one is struck with
the brightness of his outward life. He enjoyed constant pleasant
intercourse with men and women differing widely in pursuits, in
opinions, in social position; he was full of plans for work, work
which led him into many different phases of intellectual life, and
he had every year an admixture of country life and country pursuits,
and the love for music and for poetry, which increased each year,
kept him from growing too absorbed in science, from being at all
one-sided. He used sometimes to say he had too many interests, but be
that as it may, these interests gave him much enjoyment and made him
the most delightful of companions.

A dear friend wrote of him after his death that 'In the home few men
have been more surrounded by love, or have better deserved it,' and
few men have been more loved by those outside his home. He had an
unlimited capacity for loyal, true-hearted friendship. As one most
truly said, 'Romanes was the most loyal of friends.'

There was something womanly in the tenderness which he felt for
anyone in trouble of mind or body, and he was--what perhaps is
even more rare--always ready to put aside his own work to help
other people. He never grudged time or trouble to write letters or
testimonials; he was always ready to go and see people who were sad
or lonely; he was never too busy to be kind. He was intensely loved
by those who served him, and few have been better served. There were
very few changes in his household, and no one was ever more unwilling
to give needless trouble, to find fault without cause, than he, or
more ready to be really grateful for the ungrudging and loving and
devoted service he received. 'You were the nicest master I ever
served,' wrote a gamekeeper. 'To think I have lived for fifteen years
with him and never heard a cross word,' was said the day he was taken
from his home. In money matters he was generous and almost lavish in
readiness to give and also to lend.

In Mr. Romanes there was a certain chivalrous temper which could be
roused to strong indignation where it was encountered by injustice
and oppression, and the following letter to the 'Times' is one of
many such:


  _To the Editor of the 'Times.'_

  Sir,--On several previous occasions I have been instrumental in
  obtaining remission of grievous sentences at the police-courts
  by simply drawing attention in your correspondence columns to
  the cases as they appear in your police reports. Adopting this
  course, I think that the following, which appeared in your issue
  of the 29th ult., requires some explanation:

  'At Wandsworth, James Clarke, aged 17, a weakly-looking lad,
  residing at Byegrove Road, Mitcham, was charged with stealing
  two turnips, value 3_d._, growing in a field belonging to Mr.
  H. Bunce, at Merton. The prosecutor having lost a quantity of
  produce, Police Constable Whitty was set to watch the property,
  and saw the prisoner pull the turnips and put them in his pocket.
  The accused said he had had nothing to eat all day, and being
  very hungry, he took the turnips! A previous conviction was
  proved against him for felony, and he was now committed by Mr.
  Denman for six weeks' hard labour.'

  One would like to possess a good large field of turnips, where
  each turnip can be fairly valued at 1½_d._ But, taking this as
  the true value of the particular turnips in question, it appears
  that a starving man is now serving a week's hard labour for every
  half-penny's worth of the cheapest possible kind of food that he
  could steal. It is, of course, very right that he should have
  received some measure of punishment, if only as a warning to
  others in the neighbourhood; but the measure of punishment which
  he did receive seems, in the face of the matter, monstrous. We
  are not told what was the 'felony' for which this 'weakly-looking
  lad' was previously convicted; but, at any rate, we do know that
  on the present occasion his theft was not for any purpose of
  gain. It must have been, as he said, merely to alleviate the
  pains of hunger, for otherwise he would have carried some more
  capacious receptacle than either his pockets or his stomach. On
  the whole, therefore, I say--and say emphatically--this case
  demands some explanation.

  I am, Sir, yours, &c.,
  LL.D.


He was always ready to listen to what younger men (and women) had to
say, to talk to them about his own subjects, his own work, to draw
out their abilities, to discuss their difficulties. What Mr. Lionel
Tollemache has written of Professor Owen is not less applicable to
him:

'His innate modesty enabled him, when speaking upon his own subject,
so to let himself down to the level of the ordinary listeners that
they not only felt quite at their ease with him, but fancied for the
moment that they were experts like himself.'


  _Journal, Jan. 1888._--Met Mr. Burne-Jones at the Humphry Wards',
  and had much interesting talk anent Rossetti. Burne-Jones said
  Rossetti was like an emperor; his voice was that of a king who
  could _quell_ his subjects. Also that he had a wonderful memory
  for metre, but that Swinburne's is better still, inasmuch as
  he can remember prose. On one occasion Swinburne recited to
  Burne-Jones several pages of Milton's prose which he had read
  once twenty years previously. Burne-Jones went on to say that
  Rossetti worked a great deal at his poetry, and added, 'That's
  what you can do with words, worry them as much as you like, but
  you can't _tease_ a picture.'

  _March 9._--Mr. Leslie Stephen lectured on Coleridge most
  admirably.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  18 Cornwall Terrace: March 1, 1888.

  My dearest Charlotte,--I find that neither of us wrote yesterday,
  so I have two of your letters to answer to-day.

  You certainly seem to be having much the best time of it as
  regards weather. Every week and every day here is worse than
  the last--the month which has just ended having been the most
  savage February in the memory of living Londoners. You will have
  seen that poor Cotter Morison has not survived it. He died last
  Sunday, just too soon to see his son, who had been telegraphed
  home from India. He had a great desire to live long enough to
  have had this meeting, and it seems hard that when he struggled
  on so long and painfully at the end, that he should just have
  missed it.


For Mr. Morison Mr. Romanes had a great regard, and his death was a
real sorrow.


  _Journal._--Sir F. Bramwell lectured on the 'Faults of the
  Decimal System,' calling it a lecture without a _point_. He
  was killingly amusing. Dinner at Sir H. Thompson's, met Mr. J.
  Froude, Hannen, and others.

  We met the author of 'The New Antigone' the other night at the
  Lillys'. He reviewed 'Mental Evolution in Man' in a R.C. paper
  the other day; according to him it's the Gospel of Dirt! Last
  Sunday we went to hear Spurgeon; of _his_ personal goodness there
  is no doubt.

  _May 14._--Stayed in Christ Church with the Pagets. G. had a most
  interesting talk with Aubrey Moore. [Mr. Romanes had already,
  at the Aristotelian Society, met Mr. Aubrey Moore.] Lunched on
  Sunday with the Max Müllers. He showed us a letter from Mr.
  Darwin most characteristic in its humility and sweetness.

  _May 20._--Very fine sermon from Mr. Scott-Holland on the
  Evidence of the Gospels. Tea at the Deanery, and G. had a little
  talk with the Dean.

  There are frequent mentions now of Mr. Scott-Holland, whom Mr.
  Romanes often went to hear.


In 1888 appeared 'Mental Evolution in Man.'


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  Cornwall Terrace: May 18, 1888.

  My own book is certain to make a 'commotion,' if not among 'the
  angels' in heaven,[52] at least among 'the saints' upon earth.
  One of these same saints has been behaving outrageously in print,
  and everybody is full either of jubilation or indignation at
  what he has been writing about Darwin and Darwinism. F. Darwin
  asked me to do the replying, and to-day I am returning proof of
  an article for the 'Contemporary Review.'

  I am ashamed to have been so long in writing, but the truth is
  that, notwithstanding having put down _Finis_ to my M.S., other
  things occurred to me to add, which required recasting some of
  the chapters, and so I have been fighting against time, and am
  still.

  It will not be long now before you have the children.

  They are looking forward with great glee to Dunskaith; but you
  must take care that they do not make it _too_ lively. I never saw
  such nice children myself, but James may find them over-noisy
  when they are particularly high-spirited. His godson is the most
  comical chap that ever was born. He has a passion for what he
  calls 'loaded matches,' _i.e._ matches unused, and so ready to
  'go off.' Yesterday his fingers were found to be burnt. Asked
  as to the cause, he said he had lighted some loaded matches and
  held his fingers in the flames so as to see if he could 'keep
  back crying.' This he seems to have done to his own satisfaction,
  and now wants to prove his prowess in public. Little Ethel was
  found bathed in tears a few days ago in a room by herself, and
  the grief turned out to have been on account of the death of the
  Emperor.[53]

  You ask how the lectures are 'going on.' They are 'going on'
  rather too well. Owing to Schäfer having been taken ill with
  bronchitis, I agreed to relieve him of some engagements he had
  entered into for giving lectures to a Highgate Institution.
  Consequently I had to give two lectures on Tuesday (in the
  afternoon at the Institution, and in the evening at Highgate),
  and another yesterday, besides attending Council meetings, &c.
  The Institution lectures give much more satisfaction than I
  anticipated, as I thought the historical character of this year's
  course would appeal but to a small number of people. But the
  audience keeps up to between one hundred and two hundred very
  steadily (usually one hundred and fifty), and is in part made up
  of outsiders. But I shall not be sorry when they are over, as it
  will leave me more time for better work.

  I am sorry that there still continue to be so many ups and downs
  in your daily reports.[54] The case is, indeed, dreadfully
  tedious. How would you like me to run down to see you after my
  lectures are over?

  I enclose a photo which has just come from a man who is
  photographing the Royal Society.

  We are all well and flying about in all directions. Such a time
  for dinners and concerts and all manner of things; it is a wonder
  that we are living at all, as old Jean[55] used to say.


  _To J. Romanes, Esq._

  March 15, 1889.

  I am glad you think so well of what I write, for it often seems
  to me that, amid so many distractions and in so many directions,
  I work to very little purpose. The 'Guardian' reviewer[56] has
  written to me a private letter, from which it appears that he is
  a man I know very well. He is Aubrey Moore, of Oxford, and is
  considered one of the ablest men there. I enclose his letter,
  which I failed to send before.

  It is indeed a change for you to like being nursed, and perhaps
  not altogether a bad one from the character point of view. The
  only 'explanation' I can give is that of the 'adaptation of the
  organism to _changed conditions_ of life.'


About this time Mr. Romanes drew up a paper, which is given here, as
it may interest some readers.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, London, N.W.

  Dear Sir or Madam,--While engaged in collecting materials for
  a work on Human Psychology, I have been surprised to find the
  greatness of the differences which obtain between different
  races, and even between different individuals of the same race,
  concerning sentiments which attach to the thoughts of death.
  With the view, if possible, of ascertaining the causes of such
  differences, I am addressing a copy of the appended questions to
  a large number of representative and average individuals of both
  sexes, various nationalities, creeds, occupations, &c. It would
  oblige me if you would be kind enough to further the object of my
  inquiry by answering some or all of these questions, and adding
  any remarks that may occur to you as bearing upon the subject.

  In order to save unnecessary trouble, I may explain that, in
  the event of your not caring to answer any of the questions, I
  shall not expect you to acknowledge this letter; and that, if
  you should reply, answers to many of the questions may be most
  briefly furnished by underlining the portion of each, which by
  its repetition would serve to convey your answer.

  It is needless to add that the names of my correspondents will
  not be published.

  I am yours very faithfully,
  GEORGE J. ROMANES.


  (1) Do you regard the prospect of your own death (A) with
  indifference, (B) with dislike, (C) with dread, or (D) with
  inexpressible horror?

  (2) If you entertain any fear of death at all, is the cause
  of it (A) prospect of bodily suffering only, (B) dread of the
  unknown, (C) idea of loneliness and separation from friends, or
  (D) in addition to all or any of these, a peculiar horror of an
  indescribable kind?

  (3) Is the state of your belief with regard to a future life
  that of (A) virtual conviction that there is a future life, (B)
  suspended judgment inclining towards such belief, (C) suspended
  judgment inclining against such belief, or (D) virtual conviction
  that there is no such life?

  (4) Is your religious belief, if any, (A) of a vivid order, or
  (B) without much practical influence on your life and conduct?

  (5) Is your temperament naturally of (A) a courageous or (B) of
  a timid order as regards the prospect of bodily pain or mental
  distress?

  (6) More generally, do you regard your own disposition as (A)
  strong, determined, and self-reliant; (B) nervous, shrinking, and
  despondent; or (C) medium in this respect?

  (7) Should you say that in your character the intellectual or the
  emotional predominates? Does your intellect incline to abstract
  or concrete ways of thought? Is it theoretical, practical, or
  both? Are your emotions of the tender or heroic order, or both?
  Are your tastes in any way artistic, and, if so, in what way, and
  with what strength?

  (8) What is your age or occupation? Can you trace any change in
  your feelings with regard to death as having taken place during
  the course of your life?

  (9) If ever you have been in danger of death, what were the
  circumstances, and what your feelings?

  (10) Remarks.

  (Signature.)[57]


This communication well exemplifies the spirit in which Mr. Romanes
approached the problems of animal faculty. He spent, indeed, much
time and labour in collecting and classifying the observations and
anecdotes which he published in 'Animal Intelligence'; but he lost no
opportunities of observing and experimenting for himself. In this,
as in other departments of inquiry, his constant effort was to be
in direct and immediate touch with facts. His observations on his
own dogs, especially those which he published in his article[58]
on 'Fetishism in Animals,' wherein he describes the effects on a
terrier of the apparent coming to life of a dry bone which the dog
had been playing with, and to which a fine thread had been attached,
and those which dealt with the power of tracking their master by
scent,[59] further exemplify his careful methods and his resort,
wherever possible, to experimental conditions. His observations, too,
on the 'homing' of bees,[60] by which he showed that the insects
find their way back to the hive through their experience of the
topography and by knowledge of landmarks, rather than through any
mysterious innate faculty or sense of direction, are the work of a
scientific observer, and very different from the chance tales of a
mere anecdotist.

The whole subject of comparative psychology had a special and
peculiar fascination for Mr. Romanes, partly on account of its
intimate connection with the theory of evolution, and partly from
its bearing on those deeper philosophic problems which were never
long absent from his thoughts. His treatment of the phenomena of
instinct in 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' and elsewhere, was both
comprehensive and exact, and still forms, in the opinion of competent
authorities, the best general account of the subject that we have;
though, had he lived to review and consolidate his work, some changes
would probably have been introduced in view of later discussions on
the nature and method of hereditary transmission. His arguments in
'Mental Evolution in Man,' in support of the essential similarity of
the reasoning processes in the higher animals and in man, created a
stir, at the time of their publication, which was in itself evidence
that his critics felt that they had a writer and thinker that must
be seriously and sharply met. He hoped by this work to win over the
psychologists to the evolution camp; and he himself felt strongly
that in some cases, when he failed fully to convince them of the
adequacy of his method of treatment and of the arguments he adduced,
it was rather in matters of definition than in matters of fact that
the source of their differences lay. He was somewhat disappointed
that his terms 'recept' and 'receptual' for mental products
intermediate between the 'percept' and the 'concept' were not more
generally accepted by psychologists, since, in his matured opinion,
they and the conception they represent were eminently helpful in
bridging the debatable space between the intellectual powers of man
and the faculties of the lower animals.

It was Mr. Romanes' intention to continue the mental evolution
series and to deal, in further instalments of his work, with
the intellectual emotions, volition, morals, and religion. This
intention, however, he did not live to fulfil. His further
development of mental evolution in the light of his later conclusions
in the region of philosophical and religious thought would have
been profoundly interesting. But one's regret that this part of
his life work remained incomplete is tempered by the recollection
that what he did complete was so worthily done. For, in the words
of Mr. Lloyd Morgan, which were quoted with approval by Dr. Burdon
Sanderson in his Royal Society obituary notice: 'by his patient
collection of data; by his careful discussion of these data in
the light of principles clearly and definitely formulated; by his
wide and forcible advocacy of his views; and, above all, by his
own observations and experiments, Mr. Romanes left a mark in this
field of investigation and interpretation which is not likely to be
effaced.'

In 1889 Mr. Romanes attended the British Association which met
that year at Newcastle. Here, he and Professor Poulton had a long
discussion on the 'Inheritance of Acquired Characters'; he spoke so
much, and was so much _en évidence_, at this Association that the
Newcastle papers described him as a most belligerent person.


He wrote afterwards from Edinburgh:


  Things progress as usual. After my lecture I played chess with
  Mrs. Butcher and dined with the Logans. Margaret, in telling me
  the pretty things she had heard, drew from her husband the rebuke
  that she was not judicious. So I told them your estimate of my
  merits, and Charles[61] was quite satisfied that I was in good
  keeping.

  You have made a 'philosophical' mistake about the dinner party to
  the R.'s which, of course, I imitated. Butcher has given me a MS.
  of his to read on the 'Psychology of the Ludicrous.' Seems very
  good.


  _To Professor Poulton._

  Newcastle: Monday, September 1889.

  My dear Poulton,--I am very glad to receive your long and
  friendly letter; because, although I have the Ishmael-like
  reputation of finding my hand against every man, and every man's
  against mine, my blastogenetic endowments are really of the
  peaceful order. Moreover, in the present instance the 'row' was
  not one that affected me with any feelings of real opposition,
  although it seemed expedient to point out that a somewhat hasty
  inference had not been judiciously stated. Therefore, I take
  it, we may now cordially, as well as formally, shake hands, and
  probably be better friends than ever. In token of which I may
  begin by furnishing the explanation of what was meant by the
  passage in the 'Contemporary Review' to which you alluded.

  I quite agree that Weismann's suggestion about causes of
  variability is an admirable one. But it has always seemed to me
  that it is comprised under Darwin's general category of causes
  internal to the organism (or, in his terminology, causes due to
  'the nature of the organism'). But besides this, he recognised
  the category of causes external to the organism (or the so-called
  Lamarckian principles of direct action of environment, _plus_
  inherited efforts of use and disuse). Now, anyone who accepts
  this latter category as comprising _veræ causæ_, obviously has
  a larger area of causality on which to draw for his theoretical
  explanations of variability, than has a man who expressly
  limits the possibility of such causes to the former category.
  This is all that I had in my mind when writing the line in
  the 'Contemporary Review' which led you to suppose that I was
  expounding W. without having read him; and although I freely
  allow that the meaning was one that required explanation to bring
  out, you may remember that this meaning had nothing whatever to
  do with the subject which I was expounding, and therefore it was
  that I neglected to draw it out. You will observe that, so far as
  the present matter is concerned, it does not signify what views
  we severally take touching the validity of Lamarckian hypotheses.
  The point is, that anyone who sees his way to entertaining them
  thereby furnishes himself with a larger field of causality for
  explaining variations than does a man who limits that field to
  causes internal to organisms--even though, like W., he suggests
  an extension of the latter.

  And now about the 'Athenæum.' I fear you think I have been taking
  an unfair opportunity of giving you a back-hander. In point of
  fact, however, I never do such things; and the more reason I
  have for anything like hitting back (which, however, is entirely
  absent on the present occasion), the more careful should I be to
  avoid any appearance of doing so in an unsigned review. I neither
  wrote, nor have I read the particular review in question.

  Regarding articulation, read in my 'Mental Evolution in Man,'
  Mr. Hales' admirable remarks on children having probably been
  the constructors of all languages. I believe this theory will
  prove to be the true solution of the origin of _languages_, as
  distinguished from the faculty of _language_. What you say about
  the latter being blastogenetic, requires you to unsay what is
  said by W.

  Please let me know whether there is anything that you see in my
  'cessation of selection' different from W.'s 'Panmixia.' The
  debate to-day failed to furnish any opposition.

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: October 21. 1889.

  My dear Poulton,--Many thanks for your interesting letter. From
  it I quite understand your views about the relation between
  reproduction and repair; are they those of Weismann or altogether
  your own? And have they, as yet, been published anywhere? If
  not, I suppose it is undesirable to allude to them in public? The
  theory is ingenious, but seems to sail rather near Pangenesis
  (as do many of the latter amendments of germ-plasm by W.); and I
  should have thought that the limbs of salamanders, &c., are too
  late products, both phylogenetically and ontogenetically, to fall
  within its terms.

  I also see better what you mean about Sphex. But Darwin's letter
  in 'Mental Evolution in Animals' seems to me to meet (or rather
  to anticipate) the 'difficulty.' Of course, he did not suppose
  that the insects' knowledge of 'success' goes further than
  finding out and observing the best place to sting in order to
  produce the maximum effect. The analogy of Cymphs is apposite;
  but is it the fact that there is any species whose localisation
  is really comparable with that of Sphex? Contrasting Weismann's
  account with Fabre's, I should say not.

  As for neuter insects (which you mentioned at Newcastle), Darwin
  allows that they constitute one of the most difficult cases to
  bring under natural selection, seeing that this has here to act
  at the end of a long lever of the wrong kind, so to speak. Read
  Perrier's preface to French translation of 'Mental Evolution
  in Animals,' and observe how good his suggestion is, on the
  supposition that Lamarckian principles have any applicability at
  all.

  Lastly, at Newcastle you said something that seemed to imply a
  doubt upon such facts as Lord Morton's mare. Do you really doubt
  such facts? I cannot suppose it.

  There are plenty of white stoats hereabouts, I believe, though I
  have never actually seen them, because I do not stay late enough
  in the year. I have told my keeper to try to catch some without
  injuring them, and, if he succeeds, to send them straight to
  the Zoo. The experiment would be a very interesting one. But
  the keeper says that even here the whiteness depends as to its
  intensity upon the amount of snow in different seasons. He is
  most positive about this; he says it depends upon snow, and not
  on cold. However, I do not quote him as an authority in science,
  although he certainly is an intelligent and observing man.

  Regarding the Royal Institution, an after Easter course by you
  would be doubly interesting, because before Easter I have to
  give one on the 'Post-Darwinian Period,' which will be mainly
  concerned with Weismann. Your lectures might then serve as a
  counter-irritant, therefore I will do anything I can to bring
  them about, only, not being on the managing body, I can help
  merely by backing any application you may make. And, of course,
  there ought to be no difficulty about it. Only let me know if you
  should want backing.

  Would it not be worth while to get also some mountain hares for
  observation at the Zoo? These, I think, I could get.

  Yours very truly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: October 15.

  Would you mind sending me the part of your MS. dealing with
  Sphex? I do not know that I quite caught your objection to my
  difficulty, and want to allude to it in lectures which I am now
  preparing for my Edinburgh class.

  Also, did I correctly understand you to say that you refused
  to acknowledge any fundamental identity between processes of
  reproduction and those of repair? For this identity is to my mind
  the most important of all objections to W.'s theory.

  G. J. ROMANES.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: December 3, 1889.

  My dear Poulton,--I returned here a day or two ago, and now
  send you my copy of Perrier's remarks about the neuters of
  hymenopterous insects. But he said a good deal more in subsequent
  and private correspondence. His preface, however, will serve to
  show you the general tone of argument.

  With regard to Panmixia, it occurs to me that very likely you
  have not seen all that I wrote upon it, as the three papers were
  scattered over several months in 'Nature.' The following are the
  references: Vol. ix. pp. 361, 440; vol. x. p. 164.

  You will see that I took up a decided stand upon the principle of
  Panmixia not being able altogether to supersede that of disuse.
  This was for the reasons stated in my last letter; and I still
  see no further reason for changing the opinion that was then
  formed under the influence of Darwin's judgment.

  With reference to the difference that you alluded to--and which,
  as far as I can see, is the only difference between Weismann's
  presentation of the principle and my own--I enclose an extract
  from the lecture which I have just been giving in Edinburgh.
  From this extract I think you will see that the one point of
  difference does not redound to the credit of Weismann's logic.
  After reading the extract in conjunction with the papers in
  'Nature,' perhaps you will let me know whether you now understand
  my view any better, or still believe that the cessation of
  selection _alone_ can reduce the average of a useless organ below
  fifty per cent, of its original size--so long, that is, as the
  force of heredity continues unimpaired.

  G. J. ROMANES.


Some further letters to Mr. Thiselton-Dyer and to Mr. F. Darwin
follow.


  _To Professor Thiselton-Dyer._

  December 20, 1888.

  Dear Dyer,--Would you mind sending me on a postcard the name of
  the genus of plants the constituent species of which you alluded
  to in the train as being mutually fertile, and also separated
  from one another topographically? I want to get as many of such
  cases as I possibly can, so, if any others occur to you, please
  mention them likewise.

  By reading pages 401 and 404 of my paper, you will see why such
  cases are of quite as much importance to me as the converse, viz.
  where closely allied species inhabiting _continuous_ areas are
  more or less mutually sterile (see p. 392).

  If you have hitherto failed to apply these converse tests to
  my theory, I cannot conceive by what other principle you have
  sought to test it. Pray read the passages referred to, which
  present the shortest summary of what I regard as the very
  backbone of my evidence.

  If your large knowledge of geographical distribution should
  enable you to supply me with specific cases of the general
  principle mentioned by Darwin in the quotation given on page 392
  ('Origin of Species,' 6th ed., pp. 134-5), I should much like to
  try experiments on the sterility which I should expect to find
  between these interlocking species.

  It seems comical to ask a scientific opponent for assistance, but
  the fact of being able to do so proves the superiority of science
  to politics.


  December 25, 1888.

  It is very good of you to write such a long and suggestive letter.

  As a result of attentively reading your letter, it appears to me
  that you think I suppose sterility in a high degree to be much
  more usual among allied species than I do suppose it. I well know
  the large amount of natural as well as artificial hybridisation
  that goes on. But, on the other hand, there are so many species
  which either will not cross at all, or produce sterile hybrids,
  that, taking a general view of all species together, mutual
  sterility does become by far the most generally distributed
  single peculiarity--_i.e._ is the one peculiarity which, more
  than any other that can be named, is common to numberless species.

  Thus much for mutual sterility that is absolute, either in first
  crosses or in their hybrid progeny. But now, the most important
  thing for me is mutual sterility that is _not_ absolute (though,
  on my theory, perhaps on its way to becoming so) but relative,
  _i.e._ there being a _lower degree of fertility_ between A × B or
  B × A, than there is between A × A or B × B.

  Hitherto very few experiments have been made on these comparative
  degrees of fertility, yet it is by such alone, it seems to me,
  that physiological selections can be tested. Thus, _e.g._, my
  point about the 'interlocking' species (p. 392) is that in such
  cases I should expect a higher degree of fertility in A × A
  and B × B than crosswise. Indeed, my fear is that when I shall
  have proved by experiment that such is the general rule in such
  cases, naturalists will turn round and say: 'Well, of course, on
  merely _a priori_ grounds you might have known that such _must_
  have been the case; for otherwise the two interlocking species
  could never have existed as separate species, they would have
  hybridised freely along the whole frontier line and eventually
  blended over the whole area.' And still more may this be said
  in the case of allied species, not merely interlocking, but
  intermixed through common areas. Therefore, as a believing
  F.R.S. said to me the other day, 'Your letters in "Nature" will
  at least have the effect of blunting the edge of such possible
  criticism in the future.' Of course you will laugh at the
  robustness of my faith in thus forecasting the line of future
  opposition, but I would like to ask you this much: Supposing,
  for the sake of argument, that twenty years hence I publish one
  hundred instances of allied species which grow intermixed in
  common areas, proving by experiment that in all the cases there
  is _some_ comparative degree of sterility between them (if only
  due to pre-potency of their own pollen), would you regard this as
  making in favour of physiological selection? Or are you already
  prepared to admit that such _must_ be the case, since otherwise
  the species A and B could not exist without fusion into one? If
  you say that you are prepared to admit this, it seems to me that
  you have already accepted the theory of physiological selection
  on _a priori_ grounds.

  Again, if I should publish one hundred other instances of allied
  species topographically isolated from one another, all of which
  were proved by experiment to present no degree at all of mutual
  infertility (so that A × A and B × B are not more fertile than
  crosswise), would you allow that, taken in conjunction with the
  previous set of experiments, these finally prove the theory of
  physiological selection to be true? If not, I do not see how it
  is possible to verify the theory at all: it is only by means of
  these two complementary lines of research that, as it seems to
  me, the theory can be experimentally tested.

  In the former case--_i.e._ where allied species intermix in
  common areas--sometimes they intercross freely (e.g. _Primula
  vulgaris_ and _veris_, _Geum urbanum_ and _rivale_, _Rumex_,
  _Epilobium_, &c.), while in other instances they don't (e.g.
  _Ranunculus repens_ and _bulbosus_, _Lepidium Smithii_ and
  _campestre_, _Scrophularia nodosa_ and _aquatica_, &c.). Now, as
  regards the latter, I suppose you would not question that the
  'physiological isolation' has to do with preventing the species
  from fusing? But, if so, by parity of reasoning, should we not
  expect to meet with _some degree_ of the same thing in the other
  cases, which, although not here sufficiently pronounced to block
  off frequent hybridisation, is nevertheless sufficient to prevent
  the species from blending over their common area?

  And here, I may say, I should not at all object to the charge of
  misunderstanding Darwin on any merely trivial point such as the
  one you mention. But in this instance it so happens that it is
  rather you who have misunderstood me. I know that 'a hybrid is
  not an intermediate form in his sense,' and this is just what
  constitutes my difficulty against his paragraphs quoted on p. 392
  of my paper. For what I say is, these intermediate forms _ought_
  to be hybrids, _unless physiological selection_, (i.e. _mutual
  sterility_) _has been at work_. 'In his sense' I cannot conceive
  how such 'intermediate forms' can exist in the circumstances
  described, seeing that they are _not_ hybrids, and yet that (in
  the absence of any hypothesis of physiological isolation for
  which I am contending) there is no reason given why the two
  interlocking species should not freely intercross.

  Regarding sexual selection I certainly am very much in earnest
  about its parallel to p.s.[62] If you intend the meaning of n.s.
  so as to embrace s.s. it will at the same time embrace also p.s.
  For s.s., like p.s., has nothing to do with life-preserving
  characters; yet, also like p.s., it has to do with the
  differentiation of specific forms. (There is no distinction
  to be drawn between 'the species of a cock' and 'the plumage
  of a cock': plumage is the most favourite part of a bird
  with ornithologists on which to found specific diagnoses.)
  Therefore, if p.s. is true at all--which, of course, is another
  question--even my celebrated powers of 'dialectical subtlety' are
  completely unable to perceive any difference between p.s. and
  s.s. in respect of their relation to n.s.

  Lastly, as regards Nägeli, no doubt he is an out-and-out
  Lamarckian, but I did not see that this should make any
  difference touching his opinion on a matter of fact not more
  connected with Lism. than Dism. I will look up 'Nature' for 1870.

  With best Christmas wishes and many thanks for botanical hints.


  December 26, 1888.

  It has occurred to me that if you know Churchill's address, I
  might save time by writing to him before seeing him when he comes
  in spring.

  It has also occurred to me that I might perhaps put the argument
  on pp. 801-4 better before you thus:

  _If_ phys. sel. is true, it would follow that as between allied
  species, mutual sterility ought to occur in all degrees (from
  zero to absolute), and that there ought to be a correlation
  between these degrees of sterility and degrees of non-separation,
  topographically.

  Now, you cannot possibly doubt that the first expectation is
  realised in nature; as between allied species sterility does
  occur in all degrees, from there being no such sterility at
  all in very many cases, to there being absolute sterility in
  other cases. Therefore, in stating this fact as a fact, I am
  not playing at 'heads I win and tails you lose,' nor 'begging
  the whole question at the outset.' Any 'question' really arises
  only with regard to the second expectation--viz. whether there
  is a general correlation between degrees of mutual fertility and
  degrees of topographical isolation.

  Now, this question I have not begged, but, on the contrary,
  stated as the question by an experimental answer to which my
  theory must stand or fall.

  Thus, the cases which you mention obviously go to support the
  theory, inasmuch as they conform to the expectation above
  mentioned. What I want to do is to find as many genera as
  possible like binchona and begonia, where the constituent species
  are separated geographically or topographically, and (? in
  consequence) easily hybridise with one another.

  Therefore, as a mere matter of method, I cannot see that I have
  begged any question: for the only question is not about the facts
  which I state, but about my suggested explanation of them. And
  this question can only be answered by ascertaining whether there
  is in nature any such general correlation between isolation and
  capability of hybridising (also, of course, between the absence
  of isolation and the absence of such capability) as my theory
  would require.

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: December 27, 1888.

  I am most glad that in your last letter you deal with what
  I consider the real 'question'--viz. not whether degrees of
  sterility obtain among a large proportional number of species,
  but whether there is any such correlation between them and
  absence of isolation of other kinds as my theory would expect.
  And, in dealing with this question you hit upon precisely the
  two greatest difficulties which I have myself concluded lie
  against the theory. The first is about areas now discontinuous
  having been once continuous, and our being so often unable to say
  whether or not such has been the case. But this difficulty is
  one that lies against _verification_ of the theory, not against
  the theory itself. It was in view of this difficulty that I
  mentioned oceanic islands as furnishing the best flora for trying
  experiments upon; but since I published the paper, I have not
  been able to hear of any botanists visiting islands. Should you
  ever hear of any you might let me know.

  The second difficulty is one that lies against the theory itself,
  and has always seemed to me most formidable. But as nobody
  else has ever mentioned it, I have not hitherto done so, as I
  want to work it out quietly. I allude to your remark about the
  extraordinary differences that obtain among different genera
  with regard to the capability of intercrossing exhibited by
  their constituent species. This, I confess, has from the first
  appeared a tremendous objection to my theory. On the other hand,
  I have taken comfort from the consideration that besides being
  a tremendous objection, it is also a tremendous mystery. For, as
  it must admit of some explanation, and as this explanation must
  almost certainly have to do with the sexual system, it becomes
  not improbable that when found the explanation may square with
  p.s. That the difference in question is functional and not
  structural (or physiological as distinguished from morphological)
  seems to be proved by the fact that in some cases it obtains
  as between the most closely allied genera, being, _e.g._, most
  strongly pronounced of all between Geranium and Pelargonium. Even
  quite apart from my own theory, it seems to me that this is a
  subject of the highest importance to investigate.

  As regards sexual selection I allow, of course, that the 'law of
  battle' is a form of natural selection. But where the matter is
  merely a pleasing of æsthetic taste, and the resulting structures
  therefore only ornamental, I can see nothing 'advantageous' in
  the sense of life-preserving. On the contrary, in most cases
  such structures entail considerable expenditure of physiological
  energy in their production. On this account Darwin says that
  nat. sel. must impose a check on sexual selection running beyond
  a certain point of injuriousness ('D. of M.,' p. 227). Now,
  physiological selection is never thus injurious; and although it
  is a 'form of isolation,' the isolation is neither so extreme
  nor of such long continuance as the ones you compare it with.
  Moreover, the environment (therefore all other or external
  conditions of life) remain the same, which is not the case under
  the other forms of isolation. Provided that the physiological
  change is not _in itself_ injurious, I do not see why
  _physiologically_ isolated forms should be less fit than those
  from which they have been separated, though I can very well see
  why this should be the case with such _geographically_ isolated
  forms as you mention, for there the _schooling_ is different.
  Lastly, physiological selection, if not in itself injurious, does
  not require that its children should be 'protected against the
  struggle for existence.' On the contrary, as I say in my paper,
  it is calculated to give this struggle a better chance than ever
  to develope adaptive character in the sexually isolated forms,
  because the swamping effects of intercrossing are diminished.

  But I really did not intend to afflict you with another jaw of
  this kind. I am, however, very glad that we now understand each
  other better than we did. At all events on my side I think I now
  know exactly the points which I have to make good if Nature is
  so constituted as to admit of my theory. One thing only I have
  forgotten to say, viz. that nothing can be argued against the
  theory from the fact of hybridisation occurring in cases where,
  according to the theory, it ought not to occur. This argument
  only becomes valid where it is found that the resulting hybrids
  are _fertile_. In relation to the theory, a sterile hybrid is all
  the same as a failure to cross.

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--I forgot to ask you if there would be any facilities in
  spring at Kew for repeating Adam's graft of purple on yellow
  laburnum. I want to try this experiment in budding on a large
  scale because of its importance on Weismannism, should the result
  of any of the grafts go to corroborate Adam's account of the way
  in which he produced the hybrid. If you agree to the experiments
  being tried at Kew, perhaps you might let me know whether there
  are any purple laburnums already in the gardens, or whether I
  should get the material over from France. But in that case you
  might also let me know to whom in France or elsewhere I had
  best apply. However, do not bother to answer any other parts of
  this tremendous letter, these we can discuss in conversation
  hereafter. A postcard to answer this postscript, however, is
  desirable, as then it might be possible to get matters in train
  for next budding season.

  G. J. R.

  I should much like to meet Churchill. Will you remember to tell
  me when he comes?


  _To F. Darwin, Esq._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 20, 1889.

  Dear Darwin,--Many thanks for your long letter. I thought you
  might have had some notes or memories of conversations, to show
  in a general way what the 'line' would have been.[63] If so, of
  course I should not have said that my sayings were inspired, but
  should myself have known that I was not going astray.

  The line I am going to take is:

  1st. Even assuming, for sake of argument, that heightened colour
  is correlated with increased vigour, Wallace everywhere fails
  to distinguish between brilliancy and ornament; yet it is the
  disposition of colours in patterns, &c., that is the chief thing
  to be explained.

  2nd. In many cases (_e.g._ peacock's tail) the pattern is
  only revealed when unfolded during courtship. Besides natural
  selection could not be such a fool as to develope large
  (physiologically expressive) and weighty (impeding flight)
  structures like this--stags' antlers, &c., merely as correlates
  of vigour.

  3rd. There is not much in Wallace's merely negative difficulty
  about our not knowing what goes on in the mind of a hen, when we
  set against that difficulty the positive fact that we can see
  what does go on in the mind of a cock--display, antics, song, &c.

  4th. To say that 'each bird finds a mate under any circumstances'
  is merely to beg the whole question.

  5th. There remains Wallace's jealousy of natural selection. He
  will not have any other 'factor,' and therefore says natural
  selection must eat up sexual selection like the lean kine have
  the fat kine. But natural selection alone does not explain all
  the phenomena of sexual colouring, courtship, &c., and sexual
  selection is exactly the theory that does. Wallace's jealousy,
  therefore, is foolish and inimical to natural selection theory
  itself, by forcing it into explanations which are plainly false.

  My own belief is, that what Lankester calls the 'pure Darwinians'
  are doing the same thing in another direction. By endeavouring,
  with Wallace and Weismann, to make natural selection all in
  all as the sole cause of adaptive structure, and expressly
  discarding the Darwinian recognition of use and disuse. I think
  they are doing harm to natural selection theory itself. Moreover,
  because I do not see any sufficient reason as yet to budge from
  the real Darwinian standpoint (Weismann has added nothing to the
  facts which were known to Charles Darwin), the post-Darwinians
  accuse me of moving away from Darwinian principles. But it is
  they who are moving, and, because they see a change in our
  relative positions, affirm that it is I. In point of fact, my
  position has never varied in the least, and my confession of
  faith would still follow, in every detail, that given on p.
  421 of 'Origin,' 6th ed., which, it seems to me, might also be
  regarded as prophetic no less than retrospective.

  If I did not say all this in my paper in physiological selection,
  it is only because I never conceived the possibility of my being
  accused of trying to undermine natural selection; and, therefore,
  I only stated as briefly as possible what my relations were to
  it. Yet it seems to me that this statement was clear enough if
  Wallace had not come down with his preposterous 'Romanes _versus_
  Darwin.' At all events, it is not in my power--or, I believe, in
  that of anybody else--to express more strongly than I now have
  in 'Nature,' in answer to Dyer, what I do hold about natural
  selection in its relation to physiological selection, sexual
  selection, and other subordinate principles. Of course, if there
  were a debate on these lines at the B.A., I should get my part
  of it published somewhere. As far as I can honestly see, my
  'position' is absolutely identical with that in last editions of
  'Origin' and 'Descent,' with, perhaps, a 'tendency' to lay more
  stress on levelling influence of Panmixia.

  _Re_ physiological selection. I have sent Correvon, of Geneva,
  £50 to help in founding a garden in the Alps, which will have the
  proud distinction of being the highest garden in the world. He is
  a splendid man for his knowledge of Alpine flora, and besides, is
  strongly bitten with a desire to test physiological selection. Of
  course I shall do the hybridising experiments myself, but he will
  collect the material from the different mountains--_i.e._ nearly
  allied species, topographically separated, and therefore, I hope,
  mutually fertile. The converse experiments of nearly allied
  species on common areas may be tried in England.

  I am making arrangements for repeating on an extensive scale
  experiments on budding purple laburnum on yellow, to see if it is
  possible to reproduce 'Adam's eye' hybrid. If so, it would now
  be of more importance than ever in relation to Weismann. By the
  way, he is sorely put to it in the case of plants which reproduce
  themselves not only by cuttings, but even by leaves. Here he is
  bound to confess that his germ-plasma occupies all the cellular
  tissue of the entire plant. But if so, how in the world does his
  germ-plasma differ from gemmules?

  There! I did not intend to write you anything of a letter when I
  began, but have gone on and on till it is well for you that the
  second sheet is coming to an end.

  Yours ever,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--Any contributions to Correvon's garden (however small)
  would be thankfully received by him. Possibly his garden may be
  of some use to English botanists; if so, you might send the hat
  round, and collect any coppers that fall.


  _To Professor Thiselton-Dyer._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 7, 1889.

  My dear Dyer,--Knowing what a busy man you are, I never expected
  you to answer my last letter, and therefore it has come as an
  agreeable surprise. For no doubt you will believe me when I
  say that I value much more communications which are opposed to
  physiological selection than those in its favour; the former show
  me better what has to be done in the way of verification, as
  well as the general views which may be taken on the subject by
  other minds. And most of all is this the case when anyone like
  yourself gives me the benefit of opinions which are formed by a
  trained experience in botany, seeing that here I am myself such
  a sorry ignoramus. And I willingly confess that your strongly
  expressed opinion has seriously shaken my hopes for physiological
  selection, notwithstanding that some German botanists think
  otherwise. Nevertheless, I still think that it is worth while
  to devote some years to experimental testing, and then, if the
  results are against me--well, I shall be sorry to have spent so
  much time over a wild flower chase, and to have kicked up so much
  scientific dust in the process; but I will not be ashamed to
  acknowledge that Nature has said No.

  And now for your last letter. Read in the light of subsequent
  experience, I have no doubt that I ought to have expressed myself
  with more care while writing my paper. But, to tell the honest
  truth, it never once occurred to me that I of all men could be
  suspected of trying to undermine the theories of Darwin. I was
  entirely filled with the one idea of presenting what seemed
  to me 'a supplementary hypothesis,' which, while 'in no way
  opposed to natural selection,' would 'release the latter from
  the only difficulties' which to my mind it had ever presented.
  Therefore I took it for granted that everybody would go with me
  in recognising natural selection as the 'boss' round which every
  'other theory' must revolve, without my having to say so on
  every page. So, of course, by 'other theory' I did not mean that
  physiological selection was in my opinion the _only_ theory of
  the origin of species. Everywhere throughout the paper, from the
  title-page to the conclusion, I represented it as an 'additional
  suggestion,' a 'supplementary hypothesis,' &c., &c. Sexual
  selection is in my view (as it is also in Darwin's, Wallace's,
  and doubtless that of all evolutionists) one of the 'other
  theories that have been propounded on the origin of species.'
  So is Lamarck's theory, which was considered by Darwin as _more
  or less_ 'supplementary' to natural selection; and this is all
  that I meant--or, I should say, could possibly be understood to
  mean in view of the title-page, &c.--by speaking of physiological
  selection as another theory of the origin of species. It
  certainly is not the _same_ thing as natural selection or either
  of the 'other theories' just mentioned; but no less certainly it
  is not _exclusive_ of any of the three. Unquestionably it is as
  you say, and as I myself said, an _independent_ theory--_i.e._
  not identical with, but additional to, that of natural selection.
  But this is a widely different thing from saying that it is in
  itself an _exhaustive_ theory, which must therefore swallow up
  all or any 'others.' In short, I abide by the closing statement
  of my introductory paragraph--viz. that the theory is an 'attempt
  at suggesting _another factor_ in the formation of species,
  which, although quite _independent_ of natural selection, is
  in no way _opposed_ to natural selection, and may therefore be
  regarded as a factor _supplementary_ to natural selection.'
  Statements to the same effect are indeed scattered through
  the entire paper; but, of course, could I have foreseen the
  interpretations which afterwards arose, I should have reiterated
  such statements _ad nauseam_.

  Sorry you cannot come to the B.A., or to dine, but certainly do
  not wonder.

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  Lastly, about species not being able to exist as species without
  the physiological isolation of physiological selection (p. 403),
  the statement of course only applies to nearly allied species
  occupying common areas (see p. 404). If this statement is wrong,
  no one has yet shown me wherein it is so. I fancy you do not
  quite appreciate that by 'sterility' I always mean (unless
  otherwise expressly stated) sterility _in some degree_, and
  this not only with regard to the fertile hybrids. It is by no
  means enough to point to natural and fertile hybrids as cases
  opposed to physiological selection unless it has been shown by
  experiment through a generation or two that these hybrids are
  _fully_ fertile--_i.e._ as fertile as their parent species. Now,
  experiments of this kind have rarely been carried through. If
  you assume that the result of carrying them through would be
  destructive of physiological selection by proving that fertile
  hybrids are, as a rule, fully fertile, and also (which is very
  important) that in any cases where experiment may show them to be
  so, further experiment would fail to show that isolation has not
  been effected in any other way (as by pre-potency, differences
  of insect fertilisation, &c.)--in short, if you assume that
  fertility is as complete between the two associated species as it
  is within each species, how is it conceivable that they should
  continue to be distinct? In this connection it is well to consult
  Gulick's paper already referred to (especially p. 259, paragraph
  1st) on the theoretical side, and Jordan's papers and books on
  the practical side. I have repeated the latter's observations
  on poppies, and find that where any considerable number of
  individuals are concerned, natural selection is not nearly so
  great a power in this respect. (Even in cases where it happens
  that in-breeding is necessarily confined to single hermaphrodite
  individuals for numberless generations, the handicapping is not
  fatal: witness flowers which habitually fertilise themselves
  before opening--especially some species of orchids, which never
  seem to do otherwise, notwithstanding the elaborate provisions
  for cross-fertilisation in other species.) Now, I believe most
  of all in what I have called 'collective variation' of the
  reproductive system in the way of physiological selection,
  whereby, owing to some common influence acting on a large number
  of individuals similarly and simultaneously, they all become
  sexually co-adapted _inter se_ while physiologically isolated
  from the rest. This essential feature of the theory seems to me
  entirely to remove the difficulty about in-breeding, as well as
  that which Wallace urged about the chances against a suitable
  meeting of 'physiological complements.'

  As for my having attributed too much to the swamping effects of
  intercrossing (Panmixia), this, I am convinced, is the one and
  only particular wherein I have at all departed from the judgments
  of Darwin; though, curiously enough, it is the particular on
  which my critics have laid least stress when accusing me of
  Darwinian heresy. But it is too big a question to treat in
  correspondence. Gulick's recently published paper at the Linnean
  Society seems to me a most important one in this connection, and
  I have a large body of other evidence.


  _To F. Darwin, Esq._[64]

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W., January 8, 1889.

  Dear Darwin,--Hate you, indeed! Why, I cannot imagine any better
  service than that of stopping a fellow from making a fool of
  himself, and I most cordially thank you for having done so in
  this case. The business was so completely out of my line, that
  I did not know what was required. It seemed to me that if I got
  any evidence of bending towards the sparks, the only question I
  wanted to answer would be answered, and, therefore, that it did
  not matter a straw about temperature, moisture, and the rest.
  Moreover, the results did not seem to me to be of any importance,
  as they were just what might have been expected, and, therefore,
  I doubted whether it was worth while publishing a paper about
  them. Had they gone, the other way, and proved that the plants
  would not bend to flashing light, I should have thought it much
  more interesting. Lastly, the research was so expensive, costing
  £1 per day at the only place where I could get the requisite
  apparatus, and there they shut up at night.

  Of course, I will withdraw this paper, and, if you think the
  thing is worth working out in all the details you suggest, will
  do so. In that case, it would be worth while to ascertain whether
  there would be any electrical apparatus at Cambridge which I
  could get the use of at a lower rate of profit to the owners.
  A good-sized induction coil is really all that is required,
  and they probably have this in the Cavendish. But there is not
  one available in any of the London workshops, and so I had to
  go to Appes, in the Strand. It is suggested that the debate
  in Section _D_ at the British Association this year should be
  opened by me on the question of utility as universal. Before I
  agree, I should like to know what you think about the 'Nature'
  controversy which I have recently had with Dyer, and out of which
  the present suggestion has emanated. Perhaps we might arrange to
  meet somewhere soon to have a talk over the expediency of such a
  debate at all, and the lines on which, if held, it should run. Of
  course, physiological selection would be carefully kept out. My
  object would be to show the prime importance of natural selection
  as a theory which everywhere accounts for adaptations.

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  May 27, 1889.

  Herewith I return, with many thanks, a pamphlet by Kerner,
  numbered 738.

  In my experiments with electric spark illumination on plants, I
  notice that the seedlings, although so wonderfully heliotropic,
  never form chlorophyll, even if exposed to a continuous stream
  of sparks for 30 hours on end, while they will bend through 90°
  in seven hours to single sparks following one another at one per
  second. This proves that there is no connection at all between
  heliotropism and formation of chlorophyll, or _vice versa_--a
  point which I cannot find to have been hitherto stated. Do you
  happen to know if it has been? If you do not happen to remember
  anything bearing on this subject, do not trouble to search or to
  answer.

  Wallace's book[65] strikes me as very able in many parts, though
  singularly feeble in others--especially the last chapter. He has
  done but scant justice to Gulick's paper. Had he read it with any
  care, he might have seen that it fully anticipates his criticism
  on mine. But I think he deserves great credit for nowhere
  chuckling. From the first he has been consistent in holding
  natural selection the sole factor of organic evolution--leaving
  no room for sexual selection, inheritance of acquired characters,
  &c., &c. And now that he had lived to see an important body of
  evolutionists adopting this view, there must have been a strong
  temptation to 'I always told you so.' Yet there is nowhere any
  note of this, or even so much as an allusion to his previous
  utterances on the subject.


  _To E. B. Poulton, Esq._

  Geanies, Ross-shire: November 2, 1889.

  My dear Poulton,--Continuing our antipodal correspondence,
  and taking the points in your last letter _seriatim_, I quite
  saw that your theory of repair was 'the logical outcome of
  Weismann's' (being, in fact, a direct application of his views on
  phylogeny to the case of repair); but I did not know whether the
  outcome had been traced by him or by yourself. Now, I understand,
  I may allude to it as yours. Again, what I meant about
  regeneration of entire limbs, &c., was that, to meet such cases,
  your diagram would require modification in the way that you now
  suggest. Has it occurred to you as an argument in favour of this
  suggestion (_i.e._ that the 'potentiality' of somatic germ-plasm
  may in such cases be arrested in its process of ontogenetic
  diffusion), that Darwin has shown, or at least alleged, that all
  such cases may be traced to special adaptation to special needs,
  dangers, &c.--so that the arrest may have been brought about in
  these cases by natural selection?

  If you deem the 'chief difference' between Darwin's and
  Weismann's theory of heredity to be 'that the one implies
  _material particles_ and the other only _physical and chemical
  constitution_,' then, it seems to me, Weismann's theory will
  become identical with Herbert Spencer's--seeing that this
  is virtually the only respect in which Spencer's differs
  from Darwin's. But I think there is another and a much more
  important respect in which W.'s theory differs from both these
  predecessors. However, to proceed to the next point, I agree with
  you, that the sole object of the Sphex stinging the larvæ is
  _now_ to cause them to 'keep,' and that natural selection must
  have worked upon this for perfecting the instinct. But the point
  is, what was the origin of the selective stinging? If merely
  chance congenital variations, would unity to billions express
  the chances against their ever arising? Get some mathematician
  to calculate--giving as data superficial area of caterpillar
  on the one hand and that of _nine_ ganglia on the other. Even
  neglecting the consideration that the variation must occur many
  times to give unaided natural selection a chance to fix it as an
  instinct, the chances against its occurring only once would be
  represented by the following series, where _x_ is the superficial
  area of the caterpillar _minus_ that of eight ganglia, and unity
  is superficial area of one ganglia:

  1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x

  If, as I suppose, _x_ may here be taken as = 100,000, the
  chances against the variation occurring once would be written
  in figures expressing unity to one thousand million billion
  trillions. Of course I do not rely on calculations of this kind
  for giving anything like accurate results (mathematics in biology
  always seems to me like a scalpel in a carpenter's shop), but it
  makes no difference how far one cuts down such figures as these.
  Therefore, if Lamarck won't satisfy such facts, neither do I
  think that Darwin _minus_ Lamarck can do so. We must wait for the
  next man.

  I will send you 'Perrier' on my return to town next month.

  Lord Morton's experience is so universally that of all breeders
  of live stock, that I never knew anybody ever doubted it. But,
  if they do, there is no reason why they should not satisfy
  themselves on the point. For my part I do not feel that the fact
  requires any corroboration as regards mammals, though I have some
  experiments going on with birds. Lastly, the apparently analogous
  cases in plants are still worse for Weismann's theory, and they
  stand on the best authorities.

  I enclose a letter received by same post that brought yours. It
  is from a former keeper of mine who is now more in the moorlands.
  Other applications are out, so I hope some of them will be
  successful. Very little doubt it will prove to be temperature. I
  found a dead stoat here to-day; it had not turned white at all,
  but then the season is very mild.

  The Secretary of the R.I. is Sir F. Bramwell, Bart., F.R.S. You
  had better write to him. Also to his son-in-law, Victor Horsley,
  who is more of a biologist. Tell Bramwell, if you like, that I
  think he ought to jump at you.

  Yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: November 6, 1889.

  My dear Poulton,--Many thanks for your paper, which is the
  clearest exposition I have yet seen of Weismann's views. But
  how about your allusion to experiments in grafting? As regards
  plants, there _is_ a good deal of evidence as to the possibility
  of a graft-hybrid. As regards animals, fifteen years ago I spent
  an immensity of time in experimenting, and could not then find
  that there was any literature on the subject. Nobody who had
  grafted animal tissues had done so with any reference to the
  heredity question, nor do I know of any publications on the
  subject since then.

  Yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: November 11, 1889.

  My dear Poulton,--Although I spent more time and trouble than
  I like to acknowledge (even to myself) in trying to prove
  Pangenesis between '73 and '80, I never obtained any positive
  results, and did not care to publish negative. Therefore there
  are no papers of mine on the subject, although I may fairly
  believe that no other human being has tried so many experiments
  upon it. No doubt you will think that I ought to regard this fact
  as so much negative evidence in favour of the new theory; and, up
  to a certain point, I do, only the issue between Pangenesis and
  Germ-plasm is not really or nearly so well defined as Weismann
  represents, where the matter of experiments is concerned; _e.g._
  it is not the case that any crucial test is furnished by the
  non-transmissibility of mutilations; Darwin did not set much
  store by them, though Eimer and others have done so since. In
  fact all the Germans on both sides, and all the Englishmen on
  Weismann's side, seem to me unjust to Darwin in this respect.

  Regarding the cessation of selection, the motive that prompted my
  question to you was not the paltry one of claiming priority in
  the enunciation of an exceedingly obvious idea. My motive was to
  assure myself that this idea is exactly the same as Weismann's
  Panmixia; for, although I could see no difference, I thought
  perhaps he and you did (from absence of allusion to my paper,
  while priority is acknowledged as regards a later one); and, if
  this were so, I wanted to know where the difference lay. And
  the reason I wanted to know this was because when my paper was
  published, and Darwin accepted the idea with enthusiasm, I put
  it to him in conversation whether this idea might not supersede
  Lamarckian principles altogether. (By carefully reading between
  the lines of the paper itself, you will see how much this
  question was occupying my mind at the time, though I did not
  dare to challenge Lamarck's principles _in toto_ without much
  more full inquiry.) Then it was that Darwin dissuaded me from
  going on to this point, on the ground that there was abundant
  evidence of Lamarck's principles apart from use and disuse of
  structures--_e.g._ instincts--and also on the ground of his
  theory of Pangenesis. Therefore I abandoned the matter, and
  still retain what may thus be now a prejudice against exactly
  the same line of thought as Darwin talked me out of in 1873.
  Weismann, of course, has greatly elaborated this line of thought;
  but what may be called the scientific axis of it (viz. possible
  non-inheritance of acquired characters) is identical, and all the
  more metaphysical part of it about the immortality, immutability,
  &c., of a hypothetical germ-plasm is the weakest part in my
  estimation.

  Now, the point I am working up to is this. If there be no
  difference between Panmixia and Cessation of Selection, from what
  I have briefly sketched about it, it follows that, had Darwin
  lived till now, he would almost certainly have been opposed to
  Weismann. This is not a thing I should like to say in public, but
  one that I should like to feel practically assured about in my
  own mind.

  Regarding the numerical calculations, I have not got a copy of
  the 'Nature' paper here, but, so far as I remember (and I think
  I am right), the idea was that 'Economy of Growth' would go on
  assisting Cessation of Selection till the degenerating organ
  became 'rudimentary.' In other words, _reversal_ of selection
  would co-operate with _cessation_ of it.

  This, as I understand it, is now exactly Weismann's view; only
  he thinks that thus the rudimentary organ would finally become
  extinguished. Here, however, it seems to me evident he must be
  wrong. The reasons are obvious, as I am going to show this week
  to my Edinburgh class. Six lectures are to be devoted entirely to
  Weismann, and when they are published (as they will be this time
  next year), I think it will be seen that Weismannism is not such
  very plain sailing as Weismann himself seems to think. Vines has
  anticipated some of my points in his paper in 'Nature'; but I
  hope this may have the effect of letting me see what answers can
  be given before I shall have to publish.

  Yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


In the midst of these scientific labours and scientific
controversies, Mr. Romanes found time for other thoughts and for
other work.

At the beginning of 1889 he delivered an address at Toynbee Hall on
the Ethical Teaching of Christ, of which the following is an extract:


  'The services rendered by Christ to the cause of morality have
  been in two distinct directions. The first is in an unparalleled
  change of moral conception, and the other in an unparalleled
  moral example, joined with peculiar powers of moral exposition
  and enthusiasm of moral feeling which have never before been
  approached. The originality of Christ's teaching might in some
  quarters be over-rated, but the achievement it was impossible
  to overrate. It is only before the presence of Christ that the
  dry bones of ethical abstraction have sprung into life. The
  very essence of the new religion consists in re-establishing
  more closely than ever the bonds between morality and religion.
  One important effect of Christ's teaching and influence has
  been the carrying into effect of the doctrine of universalism,
  for previously the idea of human brotherhood can not be said
  to have existed. Again, in the exaltation of the benevolent
  virtues at the expense of the heroic, the change effected is
  fundamental and abrupt. Christ may be said to have created the
  virtues of self-abnegation, universal beneficence, unflinching
  humility--indeed, the divine supremacy of compassion. Whether
  Christ be regarded as human or divine, all must agree in
  regarding the work of His life as by far the greatest work ever
  achieved in the history of the human race. A topic of great
  importance is the influence of Christ's personality in securing
  the acceptance of His teaching. The personal character of Christ
  is of an order _sui generis_, and even the most advanced of
  sceptics have done homage to it. The more keen the intellectual
  criticism, the greater is the appreciation of the uniqueness
  of the personality. Men may cease to wonder at the effect of
  Christ's teaching; for, given the wonderful personality, all the
  rest must follow. Whatever answers different persons may give
  to the questions, "What think ye of Christ? Whose son is He?"
  everyone must agree that "His name shall be called Wonderful!"'


This brought on him two characteristic letters, one from an Agnostic
lady, blaming him for attaching so much importance to Him whom she
was pleased to call 'The Peasant of Nazareth,' the other from Dr.
Paget:


  Christ Church, Oxford: January 14, 1889.

  My dear Romanes,--I hope you will not think me impertinent if
  I write a few words of gratitude for the happiness which I
  enjoyed in reading to-day even such an account of your address
  at Toynbee Hall as the 'Times' gave me. There is always a risk
  of impertinence in thanking a man for what he has said; for of
  course he has said it because he saw it, and thought he ought to
  say it, quite simply. But I may just thank you for the generous
  willingness with which you accepted such a task:--and for the
  light in which you looked at it:--as an opportunity for saying so
  ungrudgingly, so open-heartedly, that which is clear to you about
  our Lord. This must be, please God, a real bit of help to others;
  and I trust and pray that it may return in help to you.

  But how dark you were about it! I should have been furious if I
  had been in London, and not there.

  Please forgive me this letter; and do not think it needs any
  answer.

  Affectionately yours,
  FRANCIS PAGET.


At the beginning of this year Mr. Romanes collected his various poems
and had them privately printed. He writes to his sister:


  February 1889.

  Three weeks before the 11th I was wondering what I should get
  as a wedding-day present to mark the tenth anniversary. Ethel
  then chanced to say that she wished my poems were published, so
  that she could have them in type. This suggested to me the idea
  of putting them into type for private circulation, when they
  might serve at once as the required wedding-present, and as a
  preliminary to publication at any future time either by myself
  or, more probably, by her or someone else. So I got an estimate
  from the printer, and with an awful rush he set up the whole in
  a week. Proof corrections occupied another week, and the binding
  of a grand presentation copy the third week. Thus I only had my
  present ready a few hours before it had to be presented. Binding
  the other copies occupied the time till I sent you yours. In
  Ethel's copy (which is awfully swell) I have written a special
  sonnet, as I did in yours.


These poems, or rather a selection from them, will be published, in
accordance with the author's wish.

Of his poetry, his sonnets (which were privately printed) seem the
most successful. Various friends saw the privately printed book, and
the present Professor of Poetry at Oxford gratified Mr. Romanes very
much by his own kind words respecting them, and also by submitting
them to Lord Tennyson, who spoke of them in kindly terms, as did also
Dean Church, Mr. Edmund Gosse, Mr. George Meredith, and others. Two
letters he received about his poems are here given:


  _From the Dean of St. Paul's._

  Ettenheim, Torquay: February 26, 1889.

  My dear Mr. Romanes,--Thank you very much for your kindness in
  thinking me worthy of your gift. I am always glad to see science
  and poetry go together. It was the way with the earliest efforts
  of natural science, as Empedocles and Lucretius; and when the
  strictest thinking of science is done, there is still something
  more of expression and meaning, of which poetry is the natural
  and only adequate interpreter.

  My acquaintance with your volume is as yet only superficial. But
  I have been very much impressed by 'Charles Darwin,' and by the
  'Dream of Poetry.' It is a very pleasant volume to open, and does
  not send one away empty and cold; which means that it is genuine
  poetry. We do not get on very fast; but we are better here than
  in London, and the place is pleasant.

  Please remember us all to Mrs. Romanes. Mary sends a very special
  remembrance.

  Yours faithfully,
  R. W. CHURCH.


  _From the Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone._

  Hawarden.

  Dear Mr. Romanes,--You have sent me an acceptable gift, and a
  most considerate note; considerate as regards me, but not, I
  fear, as respects yourself; for you have made your appeal to an
  incompetent judge. I do not think I possess, though I have always
  coveted, the gift of song, and I am not a qualified judge of
  those who have it.

  But in your case there can surely be neither difficulty nor
  doubt. I came home on Saturday evening and found a book awaiting
  me with prior personal claims, which has taken up most of the
  short time since my arrival. It does not, however, I think,
  require much time to learn from your book whether you have or
  have not the poetic gift. Before many minutes had passed the
  affirmation, I will not say dawned, but glared, upon me.

  I am very glad that you have proceeded to its further exercise.
  I can see no good reason why a man of science should not be a
  poet. Lord Bacon surely shows in his Essays that he had the poet
  in him. It all depends upon the way of going about it, and on the
  man's keeping himself, as man, above his pursuit, as Emerson well
  said long ago.

  I do not quite apprehend your estimate of Darwin, nor of Darwin's
  works, in p. 119. This is no doubt due to my ignorance. I knew
  him little, but my slight intercourse with him impressed me
  deeply as well as pleasurably.

  With sincere thanks, I remain, dear Mr. Romanes, faithfully yours,

  W. E. GLADSTONE.


Mr. Romanes was an omnivorous reader of poetry, and this taste grew
by what it fed on. On a holiday he read poetry in preference to
anything else, and he was very fond of good anthologies, beginning
first and foremost with the 'Golden Treasury.' Shakespeare, Milton,
and, above all, Tennyson were the poets he most loved. For Byron he
had had an early boyish enthusiasm, but this he seemed to outgrow;
at least Byron was not an author to whom in later years he turned.
He grew more and more addicted to versifying in the later years of
his life, and girl friends who grew into intimate acquaintances were
sure to have sooner or later a sonnet sent to them on some special
occasion.

As the years went on he became more interested in work amongst the
poor, and longed to take up some special line. For a while he set up
a small school in a slum near the Euston Road, in which he tried to
attract the very poorest boys who had managed to elude the vigilance
of the School Board. His plan was to have only morning school, and to
give the children their dinner. The School Board officer came to his
aid, and the school was maintained for one or two winters.

He visited the school regularly, and on one occasion, finding that a
boy had been grossly rude to the mistress, he gave the young scamp a
sound whipping.

For other people's interests in the way of work he had much sympathy;
he several times went down to the Christ Church mission at Poplar
when the Rev. H. L. Paget was in charge, and he lectured at Toynbee
Hall and at the Oxford House.

Of the work of the clergy as a whole Romanes always spoke most
warmly; of the peculiar dislike of and suspicion of 'black coats,'
so often attributed to laymen in general and to scientific men in
particular, he had no trace, and as years went on he used to be
gently chaffed for his clerical tendencies and the way in which he
was consulted as to the bearings of Science on Religion.

Two new correspondents were now added to Mr. Romanes' list, Professor
Joseph Le Conte, of the University of California, and the Rev. J.
Gulick, who was, and is still, an American missionary in Japan. Of
Mr. Gulick's scientific attainments, Mr. Romanes entertained a very
high opinion. Unfortunately, none of the letters to Mr. Gulick have
come to hand.

Of Mr. Le Conte's book, 'Evolution and Religious Thought,' Mr.
Romanes thought very highly, and introduced it to the notice of
various people, especially to Mr. Aubrey Moore.

He writes to Mr. Le Conte:


  _To Professor Le Conte._

  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: October 11, 1887.

  Dear Sir,--I am much obliged to you for sending me a copy of your
  most interesting paper on Flora of the Coast Islands, &c.

  If you are acquainted with my new theory of 'Physiological
  Selection' (published in 'Journ. Lin. Soc.' 1886) you will
  understand why I regard your facts as furnishing first-rate
  material for testing that theory. If you cannot get access to my
  paper, I will send you a copy on my return to London in December.

  My object in now writing--over and above that of thanking you
  for your paper--is to ask whether you yourself, or any other
  American naturalist whom you may know, would not feel it well
  worth while to try some experiments on the hybridisation of
  the peculiar species. Although I agree with you in thinking it
  probable that many of these species may be 'remnants,' I also
  think it abundantly possible that some of them may be merely
  evolved forms. A botanist on the spot might be able to determine,
  by intelligent comparison, which of the peculiar species are
  most probably of the last-mentioned character. These he might
  choose for his experiments on hybridisation. And I should expect
  him to find marked evidence of mutual sterility between closely
  allied unique species growing on the same island, with possibly
  unimpaired fertility between allied species growing on different
  islands. If this anticipation should be realised by experiment,
  the fact would go far to prove my theory.

  Even if you do not happen to know of any botanist who would care
  to undertake this experimental research, you might possibly know
  of some one who would gather and transmit seeds for me to grow in
  hothouses here.

  I shall be much interested to hear what you think of these
  proposals, and meanwhile remain,

  Yours truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  Geanies.

  My dear Sir,--Your book I will look forward to with much
  interest, and certainly not least so to your treatment of that
  very comprehensive question--'What then?'

  I will send you a copy of my paper on Physiological Selection as
  soon as I return to London, which will be about Christmas.

  With many thanks for your kindness, I remain, yours truly,

  G. J. ROMANES.


  May 7, 1888.

  My dear Sir,--Many thanks for sending me a copy of your book,[66]
  which seems to me everywhere admirable. Of course, I am
  particularly glad that you think with me so much on physiological
  selection, but even apart from this, the work is, to my mind,
  one of the most clearly thought out that I have met with in
  Darwinian literature. I have sent it on to 'Nature' for review,
  understanding from the office that a copy had not then been
  received. But for your kind mention of myself, I should have
  reviewed it.

  A most remarkable paper has been sent to the Linnean Society by a
  Mr. Gulick on 'Divergent Evolution,' for the publication of which
  in the 'Journal' you might look out.

  G. J. ROMANES.


  January 21, 1889.

  My dear Sir,--I should like you to set your lucid wits to work
  upon the following questions, and let me know whether you can
  devise any answers.

  On pp. 220-226 of your book, you state with extreme felicity,
  and much better than he does, Weismann's theory of the causes of
  variation. But it does not occur to him, and does not seem to
  have occurred to you, that there is a curious and unaccountable
  interruption in the ascending grades of sexual differentiation,
  for in the vegetable kingdom these do _not_ follow the grades
  of taxonomic ascent; but, on the contrary, and as a general
  rule, the _lower_ the order of evolution, the _greater_ is the
  tendency to bi-sexualism. Diœcious species (_i.e._ male and
  female organs on different plants) occur in largest proportion
  among the lower Cryptogams, less frequently among the higher, and
  more rarely still among Phanerogams. Monœcious species (_i.e._
  male and female organs on the same plant, but locally distinct)
  occur chiefly among the higher Cryptogams and lower Phanerogams;
  Hermaphrodite species (_i.e._ male and female organs in the same
  flower) occur much more frequently among higher Phanerogams.

  There is, besides, another difficulty. According to Weismann
  and yourself, it is natural selection that has brought about
  sexuality 'for the sake of better results in the offspring,'
  by making them more variable or plastic. But how can natural
  selection act prophetically? Unless the variability is of use
  to the individuals at each stage of its advance, it cannot come
  under the sway of natural selection, however advantageous it may
  _eventually_ prove to the type. But, if one thinks about it, how
  can such variability be of any use to the individual? Observe,
  beneficial variability is quite different from beneficial
  variation. It is the _tendency to vary_ that is in question,
  not the occurrence of this, that, and the other display of it.
  Now, I do not see how sexuality can have been evolved by natural
  selection for the purpose of securing their tendency _in the
  future_, when it can never be of any use to individuals _of the
  present_. Each individual of the present is an accomplished fact;
  the tendency to produce variable offspring is, therefore, of
  no use to it individually, and so natural selection would have
  no reason to pick it out for living and propagating. Such is
  my difficulty touching this point. Another is, why do we meet
  with such great differences between (sometimes) allied natural
  genera, and even whole natural orders, as to the facility with
  which their constituent species hybridise? For example, species
  of genus Geranium will hybridise almost better than any other,
  those of the Pelargonium scarcely at all.

  I hope that at some time you will be able to get sent to me seeds
  of species peculiar to oceanic islands, should you hear of any
  botanists who are visiting such islands.

  G. J. ROMANES.

  I note that you have been good enough to pass my questions on
  to Mr. Greene, whose great kindness (already experienced by me)
  will, I trust, prevent him from thinking that the failure of the
  seeds to flower here was due to any negligence on my part.

  Yes, it is the same Rev. Mr. Gulick whom you describe that wrote
  the paper on 'Divergent Evolution' to which I alluded, and which
  is a most remarkable paper in every way, though not at all easy
  to master. Wallace completely misunderstood it in his letter to
  'Nature.' It was his work in shells that first led Mr. Gulick
  to study Isolation, and he has been at work upon the subject
  ever since. To the best of my judgment, he has demonstrated the
  necessity of what he calls 'segregate breeding' for 'polytypic
  evolution,' and in this connection has worked out the idea of
  physiological selection (which he calls segregate fecundity) much
  more fully than I have.

  It is most astonishing to me with what a storm of opposition
  this idea has been met in England, and how persistent is the
  misunderstanding. In Germany and America it is being much more
  fairly treated, but meanwhile I intend to keep it as quiet as
  possible, till I shall be in a position to publish a large
  body of experimental observations. As far as time has hitherto
  allowed, the results are strongly corroborative of the theory.

  I have now read your admirable book, and my only objection
  to it is that it seems in such large measure to anticipate
  the publication of my own course of lectures on the theory of
  Evolution which I am now giving at the Royal Institution. But,
  on the other hand, this will relieve me of the necessity of
  printing a good deal of my matter, as it will be sufficient to
  refer to your book in mine when the two cover common ground. It
  is needless to add that I am very glad to note you think so well
  of physiological selection.

  Yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


The theory of the Non-Inheritance of Acquired Characters, with which
Professor Weismann's name is inseparably connected, was now coming to
the front.

Mr. Romanes was, of course, intensely interested, and set himself
_not_ to dispute so much as to examine and to test it.

He devoted a large part of his last year at the Royal Institution to
lecturing on Prof. Weismann's theory, which lectures he worked up
into his book, 'An Examination of Weismannism,' published in 1892.

He devised many experiments to test that theory, experiments which
have a pathetic interest for those who love him, for they occupied
his mind up to the very day of his death.

Of this theory it may safely be said that since the promulgation of
Mr. Darwin's great doctrine, no problem has interested the world of
science so profoundly.

For the most part the younger English naturalists have accepted
Professor Weismann's theory, which, by the way had long ago been
anticipated by Mr. Francis Galton, and Mr. Romanes was not much
supported in his opposition, or, rather, his non-adherence to
Weismannism.


  Linnean Society, Burlington House, London, W.: March 21, 1890.

  My dear Dyer,--I have come to the conclusion that anything
  published in 'Nature' might as well never have been published at
  all; and therefore have come here to-day in order to look through
  the back numbers of 'Nature,' with a view to republishing as a
  small book the various things that I have contributed during the
  past twenty years. Thus it is I find that the explanation which
  I gave to Herbert Spencer _re_ Panmixia and his articles on the
  'Factors of Organic Evolution,' appeared in August 25, 1887, and
  showed that his whole argument was in the air.

  I have also read my own article on Panmixia, written about two
  mouths ago, and published last week. The result is to satisfy
  me that your 'intelligent' friends must have had minds which
  do not belong to the _a priori_ order--_i.e._ are incapable of
  perceiving other than the most familiar relations. Such minds
  may do admirable work in other directions, but not in that of
  estimating the value of Darwinian speculations. A few years
  ago they would have thought the cessation of selection a very
  unimportant principle, and one which could not possibly sustain
  any such large question as that of the transmissibility of
  acquired character. And a few years hence they will wonder why
  they raised such an ado over the no less obvious principle of
  physiological selection.

  Yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


He writes to his brother:


  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: Sunday.

  My dearest James,--This theory, of the Non-Inheritance of
  Acquired Characters, is that nothing that can happen in the
  lifetime of the individual exercises any influence on its
  progeny; effects of use or disuse, for example, cannot be
  inherited, nor, therefore, can any adaptation to external
  conditions which are brought about in individual organisms.
  Natural selection thus can only operate in spontaneous variations
  of germ-plasm, choosing those variations which, when 'writ large'
  in the resulting organisms, are best suited to survive and
  transmit.

  This is the most important question that has been raised in
  biology since I can remember, and one proof of an inherited
  mutilation would settle the matter against Weismann's theory. I
  am therefore also trying the mutilation of caterpillars at the
  Zoo, in the hope that a _mutilation_ during what is virtually an
  embryonic period of life will be most likely to be transmitted,
  seeing that _congenital_ variations are so readily transmissible,
  and that these are changes of a pre-embryonic kind.

  All well and with much love, yours ever,

  GEORGE.

  Have you got the 'Contemporary Review' for June with my article
  on Darwinism? If not, I will send it.


Another bit of work was an investigation into the intelligence of the
chimpanzee 'Sally' at the Zoological Gardens, which the following
letter describes:


SAVAGE VERSUS BRUTE.

  _To the Editor of the 'Times'_ (_Sept. 19, 1888_).

  Sir,--In connection with the correspondence on the powers of
  counting displayed by savages, it may be of interest to narrate
  the following facts with regard to similar powers as displayed by
  brutes.

  One often hears a story told which seems to show that rooks
  are able to count as far as five. The source of this story,
  however, is generally found to have been forgotten, and therefore
  the story itself is discredited. Now, the facts stand on the
  authority of a very accurate observer, and as he adds that
  they are 'always to be repeated when the attempt is made,' so
  that they are regarded by him as 'among the very commonest
  instances of animal sagacity,' we cannot lightly set them aside.
  The observer in question is Leroy, and the facts for which he
  personally vouches in his work on animal intelligence are briefly
  as follows:

  'The rooks will not return to their nests during daylight should
  they see that anyone is waiting to shoot them. If to lull
  suspicion a hut is made below the rookery and a man conceal
  himself therein, he will have to wait in vain, should the birds
  have ever been shot at from the hut on a previous occasion. Leroy
  then goes on to say: 'To deceive this suspicious bird, the plan
  was hit upon of sending two men into the watch-house, one of
  whom passed out while the other remained; but the rook counted
  and kept her distance. The next day three went, and again she
  perceived that only two returned. In fine, it was found necessary
  to send five or six men to the watch-house in order to throw out
  her calculation.'

  Finding it on this testimony not incredible that a bird could
  count as far as five, I thought it worth while to try what might
  be done with a more intelligent animal in this connection.
  Accordingly, about a year ago, I began, with the assistance of
  the keeper, to instruct the chimpanzee at the Zoological Gardens
  in the art of computation. The method adopted was to ask her for
  one, two, three, four, or five straws, which she was to pick
  up and hand out from among the litter in her cage. Of course,
  no constant order was observed in making these requests, but
  whenever she handed a number not asked for her offer was refused.
  In this way the animal learnt to associate the numbers with their
  names. Lastly, if more than one straw were asked for she was
  taught to hold the others in her mouth until the required number
  was complete, and then to deliver the whole at once. This method
  prevented any possible error arising from her interpretation of
  vocal tones, an error which might well have arisen if each straw
  had been asked for separately.

  After a few weeks' continuous instruction the ape perfectly
  well understood what was required of her, and up to the time
  when I left town, several months ago, she rarely made a mistake
  in handing me the exact number of straws that I named. Doubtless
  she still continues to do so for her keeper. For instance, if
  she is asked for four straws she successively picks up three and
  puts them in her mouth, then she picks up a fourth and hands
  over all the four together. Thus, there can be no doubt that
  the animal is clearly able to distinguish between the numbers
  1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, and that she understands the name for each.
  But as this chimpanzee is somewhat capricious in her moods, even
  private visitors must not be disappointed if they fail to be
  entertained by an exhibition of her learning, a caution which
  it seems desirable to add, as this is the first time that the
  attainments of my pupil have been made known to the public,
  although they have been witnessed by officers of the Society and
  other biological friends.

  I have sent these facts to you, Sir, because I think that they
  bear out the psychological distinction which is drawn in your
  leading article of the 17th inst. Briefly put, this distinction
  amounts to that between sensuous estimation and intellectual
  notation. Any child, a year after emerging from infancy, and not
  yet knowing its numerals, could immediately see the difference
  between five pigs and six pigs, and therefore, as your writer
  indicates, it would be an extraordinary fact if a savage were
  unable to do so. The case, of course, is different where any
  process of calculation is concerned: _e.g._ 'each sheep must be
  paid for separately; thus, suppose two sticks of tobacco to be
  the rate of exchange for one sheep, it would sorely puzzle a
  Damara to take two sheep and give him four sticks.' (F. Galton,
  'Tropical South Africa,' p. 213.) But if the savage had to deal
  with a larger number of pigs the insufficiency of his sensuous
  estimation would increase with the increase of numbers, until a
  point would be reached at which, if he were to keep count at all,
  he would be obliged to resort to some system of notation, _i.e._
  to mark off each separate unit with a separate _nota_, whether by
  fingers, notches, or words. Similarly with the sense of hearing
  and the so-called muscular sense. We can tell whether a clock
  strikes 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5 without naming each stroke, and whether
  we have walked 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5 paces without naming each pace,
  but we cannot in this way be sure whether a clock has struck 11
  or 12, or we ourselves have, walked as many yards.

  Thus there is counting and counting, distinguishing between low
  numbers by directly appreciating the difference between two
  quantities of sensuous perceptions, and distinguishing between
  numbers of any amount by marking each sensuous perception with
  a separate sign. Of course, in the above instance of animals
  counting it must be the former method alone that is employed,
  and, therefore, I have not sought to carry the ape beyond the
  number 5 lest I should spoil the results already gained. But
  a careful research has been made to find how far this method
  can be carried in the case of man. The experiments consisted
  in ascertaining the number of objects (such as dots on a piece
  of paper) which admit of being simultaneously estimated with
  accuracy. It was found that the number admits of being largely
  increased by practice, until, with an exposure to view of one
  second's duration, the estimate admits of being correctly made up
  to between 20 and 30 objects. (Preyer, 'Sitzungsber. d. Gesell,
  f. Med. u. Naturwiss.,' 1881.) In the case of the ape it is
  astonishing over how long a time the estimate endures. Supposing,
  for instance, that she is requested to find five coloured straws.
  She perfectly well understands what is wanted, but as coloured
  straws are rare in the litter, she has to seek about for them,
  and thus it takes her a long time to complete the number; yet she
  remembers how many she has successively found and put into her
  mouth, so that when the number is completed she delivers it at
  once. After having consigned them to her mouth she never looks
  at the straws, and therefore her estimate of their number must
  be formed either by the feeling of her mouth, or by retaining
  a mental impression of the successive movements of her arm in
  picking up the straws and placing them in her mouth. Without
  being able to decide positively in which of these ways she
  estimates the number, I am inclined to think it is in the latter.
  But, if so, it is surprising, as already remarked, over how long
  a time this estimate by muscular sense endures. Should we trust
  Houzeau's statement, however (and he is generally trustworthy),
  it appears that computation by muscular sense may extend in some
  animals over a very long period. For he says that mules used in
  the tramways at New Orleans have to make five journeys from one
  end of the route to the other before they are released, and that
  they make four of these journeys without showing any expectation
  of being released, but begin to bray towards the end of the
  fifth.[67]

  From this letter it will, I hope, be apparent that so far as
  'counting' by merely sensuous computation is concerned, the
  savage cannot be said to show much advance upon the brute. 'Once,
  while I watched a Damara floundering hopelessly in a calculation
  on one side of me, I observed Dinah, my spaniel, equally
  embarrassed on the other. She was overlooking half a dozen of her
  new-born puppies, which had been removed two or three times from
  her, and her anxiety was expressive as she tried to find out if
  they were all present, or if any were still missing. She kept
  puzzling and running her eyes over them, backwards and forwards,
  but could not satisfy herself. She evidently had a vague notion
  of counting, but the figure was too large for her brain. Taking
  the two as they stood, dog and Damara, the comparison reflected
  no great honour on the man.' (Galton, _loc. cit._) But the case,
  of course, is quite otherwise when, in virtue of the greatly
  superior development of the sign-making faculty in man, the
  savage is enabled to employ the intellectual artifice of separate
  notation, whereby he attains the conception of number in the
  abstract, and so lays the foundation of mathematical science.
  Now, so far as I am aware, there is no trustworthy evidence
  of any race of savages who are without any idea of separate
  notation. Whether the system of notation be digital only, or
  likewise verbal, is, psychologically speaking, of comparatively
  little moment.

  For it is historically certain that notation begins by using
  the fingers, and how far any particular tribe may have advanced
  in the direction of naming their numbers is a question which
  ought never to be confused with that as to whether the tribe can
  'count' _i.e._ notate.

  GEORGE J. ROMANES.

  Geanies, Ross-shire.


FOOTNOTES:

[37] _Life and Letters of Charles Darwin_, by Francis Darwin, vol. i.
p. iii.

[38] Miss M. M. Paget.

[39] The friend referred to on p. 178.

[40] It should be explained that the writer of this memoir is
responsible for the Journal, but as it was kept for the benefit of
both husband and wife a few extracts are given.

[41] The answer is the word _six_.

[42] A moor taken in addition to the low ground shooting of Geanies.

[43] Mr. F. Balfour was killed on the Aiguille Blanche de Peuteret,
July 1882.

[44] Mr. Browning told the same story of the Carlyles at this party
which Mrs. Ritchie narrates in _Tennyson, Ruskin, and Browning_, pp.
198, 199.

[45] The _nom de plume_ adopted in writing _Candid Examination of
Theism_.

[46] See sonnets, _The Bible of Amiens_, and _Christ Church, Oxford_.

[47] See _Nature_, January 25, 1883.

[48] Mr. Romanes remarked _à propos_ of Pfleiderer's lecture that St.
Paul seemed to be a very hard nut for the lecturer to crack.

[49] Dr. King.

[50] Through the kindness of Lord Rosebery.

[51] One of Mr. Romanes' numerous pet names.

[52] This is in allusion to a minister of a small country parish in
Scotland, who prayed that there might be at this time, on account of
this parish, 'a very great commotion among the angels.'

[53] Of Germany.

[54] His brother was ill.

[55] An old nurse.

[56] Mr. Aubrey Moore reviewed _Mental Evolution in Man_ in the
_Guardian_.

[57] I have not been able to discover any answer to these.

[58] _Nature_, vol. xvii. p. 168.

[59] _Nature_, vol. xxxvi. p. 273.

[60] _Nature_, vol. xxxii. p. 630.

[61] C. Logan, Esq., W.S., who had married Mr. Romanes' cousin.

[62] p.s.--physiological selection; s.s.--sexual selection;
n.s.--natural selection.

[63] Of Mr. Darwin.

[64] Mr. F. Darwin had pointed out some erroneous conclusions in a
projected scientific paper.

[65] _Darwinism_, by Alfred Russell Wallace.

[66] _Evolution and Religious Thought._

[67] _Fac. Ment. des Anim._ tom. ii. p. 207.




CHAPTER IV

OXFORD


Life had run very smoothly during these years from 1879 to 1890,
only now and then fits of gout had shaken the belief Mr. Romanes
had hitherto felt in his own strength, in his possession of perfect
health.

But about the end of 1889 other signs of ill-health appeared in
the shape of severe headaches; he began to weary of London and the
distractions of London life.

By degrees his thoughts and inclinations turned strongly in the
direction of Oxford. Oxford seemed to satisfy every wish. The
beautiful city gratified his poetic sense; there were old friends
already there to welcome him, and there seemed abundance of
appliances and of facilities for scientific work.

Also the ease with which he could get into the country, the
opportunities for constant exercise, the freedom he would obtain
from councils and committees, were tempting. A beautiful old house
opposite Christ Church was to be had, and this finally determined
him. He fell absolutely in love with Oxford, and brief as his
connection with her was to be, the University has had few more loyal
sons, nor has she ever exercised more complete influence over any who
have fallen under her sway.

It is surprising, as one looks back on the Oxford years, to realise
how short a time Mr. Romanes spent there, and yet it is impossible
not to realise also for how much that time counted in his life.

Many influences were working in him, a ripening judgment, a growth
of character, a deepening sense of the inadequacy of scientific
research, philosophical speculation, and artistic pleasures to fill
'the vacuum in the soul of man which nothing can fill save faith in
God.'[68] And now Oxford, with all the beauty still left to her, with
all the associations which haunt her, with all the extraordinary
witching spell which she knows so well how to exercise--Oxford, the
home of 'lost causes' and also of forward movements, Oxford came to
be for four brief years his home.

1890 opened with the death of Mr. Aubrey Moore. Only a very few
weeks before his too early death, Mr. Moore had been present at the
Aristotelian Society,[69] and had heard the joint papers contributed
by Professor Alexander, the Rev. S. Gildea, and Mr. Romanes on the
'Evidences of Design in Nature.'

Here, again, Mr. Romanes showed how far he had receded from the
materialistic point of view. In his paper he quoted passages from
Aubrey Moore's essay in 'Lux Mundi' (just published), and says:


  Yet once more, it may be argued, as it has been argued by a
  member of this Society in a recently-published essay--and this an
  essay of such high ability that in my opinion it must be ranked
  among the very few of the very greatest achievements in the
  department of literature to which it belongs--it may, I say, be
  argued, as it recently has been argued by the Rev. Aubrey Moore,
  that 'the counterpart of the theological belief in the unity and
  omnipresence of God is the scientific belief in the unity of
  nature and the reign of law'; that 'the evolution which was at
  first supposed to have destroyed teleology is found to be more
  saturated with teleology than the view which it superseded';
  that 'it is a great gain to have eliminated chance, to find
  science declaring that there must be a reason for everything,
  even when we cannot hazard a conjecture as to what the reason
  is'; that 'it seems as if in the providence of God the mission
  of modern science was to bring home to our unmetaphysical ways
  of thinking the great truth of the Divine immanence in creation,
  which is not less essential to the Christian idea of God than
  to the philosophical view of nature.' But on the opposite side
  it may be represented--as, indeed, Mr. Aubrey Moore himself
  expressly allows--that all these deductions are valid only on the
  preformed supposition, or belief, 'that God is, and that He is
  the rewarder of such as diligently seek Him.' Granting, as Mr.
  Aubrey Moore insists, that a precisely analogous supposition,
  or belief, is required for the successful study of nature--viz.
  'that it is, and that it is a rational (? orderly) whole which
  reason can interpret,' still, where the question is as to the
  existence of God, or the fact of design, it constitutes no final
  answer to show that all these deductions would logically follow
  if such an answer were yielded in the affirmative. All that these
  deductions amount to is an argument that there is nothing in the
  constitution of nature inimical to the hypothesis of design:
  beyond this they do not yield any independent verification of
  that hypothesis. Innumerable, indeed, are the evidences of design
  in nature if once a designer be supposed; but, apart from any
  such antecedent supposition, we are without any means of gauging
  the validity of such evidence as is presented. And the reason of
  this is, that we are without any means of ascertaining what it is
  that lies behind, and is itself the cause of, the uniformity of
  nature. In other words, we do not know, and cannot discover, what
  is the nature of natural causation.

  Nevertheless, I think it is a distinct gain, both to the
  philosophy and the theology of our age, that science has reduced
  the great and old-standing question of Design in Nature to this
  comparatively narrow issue. Therefore, I have directed the
  purpose of this paper to showing that, in view of the issue to
  which science has reduced this question, it cannot be answered on
  the lower plane of argument which Mr. Alexander has chosen. All
  that has been effected by our recent discovery of a particular
  case of causality in the selection principle is to throw back
  the question of design, in all the still outstanding provinces
  of Nature, to the question--What is the nature of natural
  causation? Or, again, to quote Mr. Aubrey Moore, 'Darwinism has
  conferred upon philosophy and religion an inestimable benefit by
  showing us that we must choose between two alternatives: either
  God is everywhere present in Nature, or He is nowhere.' This,
  I apprehend, puts the issue into as small a number of words as
  it well can be put. And whether God is everywhere or nowhere
  depends on what is the nature of natural causation. Is this
  intelligent or unintelligent? Is it the mode in which a Divine
  Being is everywhere simultaneously and eternally operating; or
  is it but the practical expression of what we understand by a
  mechanical necessity? In short, is it original or derived--final,
  and therefore inexplicable, because self-existing; or is it the
  effect of a higher cause in the existence of a disposing Mind?

  Although I cannot wait to argue this, the ultimate question which
  we have met to consider, I may briefly state my own view with
  regard to it. This is the same view that the originator of the
  doctrine of natural selection himself used habitually to express
  to me in conversation--viz. to use his own words, 'I have long
  ago come to the conclusion that it is a question far beyond the
  reach of the human mind.' Such, of course, is the position of
  pure agnosticism.


At the end of this paper, Mr. Aubrey Moore remarked that he agreed
with all Mr. Alexander's arguments, but disagreed with all his
conclusions, and that he disagreed with all Mr. Gildea's arguments
but agreed with his conclusions; and as for Mr. Romanes, he could
only leave him out, after the kind and flattering terms in which he
had spoken of the essay in 'Lux Mundi.' At the end of his little
speech he said aside to a friend, 'What a fellow Romanes is! "Lux
Mundi" has been out about three weeks, and he knows all about it.'

The friends are lying almost side by side in Holywell,[70] and it
is impossible not to feel that their deaths have left places hard
to fill. About Aubrey Moore, Mr. Romanes wrote some touching words
in the 'Guardian' (he was never afraid to express his admiration,
to wear his heart upon his sleeve). The little notice has now been
reprinted with two others as a Preface to the volume of Mr. Moore's
Essays 'Science and the Faith.'


  _To Professor Poulton._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 27, 1890.

  My dear Poulton,--Many thanks for your letter, with its very
  clear and cogent reasoning. But I am not sure that the latter
  does not hit Weismann harder than it hits me. For the cases you
  have in view are those where very recently acquired characters
  are concerned; and where, therefore, according to my views, 'the
  force of heredity' is weak and thus quickly 'worn out.' In such
  cases (as I say in the last passages of enclosed, which I return
  for you to hand me on Friday) 'cessation will (_quickly_) ensure
  the reduction of an unused organ below fifty per cent, of its
  original size, and so on down to zero; but this it does because
  it is now assisted by another and co-operating principle--viz.
  the eventual failure of heredity.'

  Now it is just this co-operating principle that Weismann is
  debarred from recognising by his dogma about 'stability of
  germ-plasm.' And it is a principle that must act the more
  energetically (_i.e._ 'quickly') the shorter the time since the
  now degenerating organ was originally acquired. In the 'Nature'
  articles I was speaking of 'rudimentary organs' which in Darwin's
  sense are very old heirlooms. All this to make you reconsider
  whether there is any disagreement between us upon this point.

  It is, indeed, a terrible thing about Aubrey Moore, and also a
  loss to Darwinism on its popular side.

  G. J. R.


  February 16, 1890.

  After receiving your letter this day a month ago, it occurred to
  me that I had better write an article in 'Nature' on Panmixia,
  pointing out the resemblances and the differences between
  Weismann's statement of the principle and mine. Shortly after
  sending it in, Weismann's answer to Vines appeared, and from this
  it seems that he has modified his views upon the subject. For
  while in his essays he says that 'the complete disappearance of a
  rudimentary organ can only take place by the operation of natural
  selection' (_i.e._ reversal of selection through economy, &c.),
  in 'Nature' he says, 'Organs no longer in use become rudimentary,
  and must finally disappear, solely by Panmixia.' Thus, the same
  facts are attributed at one time 'only' to the _presence_ of
  selection, and at another time 'solely' to its _absence_.

  Now, the latter view seems exactly the same as mine, if it
  means (as I suppose it must) that the cessation of selection
  ultimately leads to a failure of heredity. (How about stability
  of germ-plasm here?) The time during which the force of heredity
  will persist, when thus merely left to itself, will vary with the
  original strength of this force, which, in turn, will presumably
  vary with the length of time that the organ has previously been
  inherited. Thus, differences of merely _specific_ value (to
  which you allude in your letter) will quickly disappear under
  cessation of selection, while 'vestiges' of _class_ value are
  long-enduring. The point to be clear about is that the cessation
  of selection (in my view) entails _two_ consequences, which
  are _quite distinct_. First, a comparatively small amount of
  reduction due to promiscuous variability round an average which,
  however, will be a continuously sinking average if the cessation
  is assisted by a reversal of selection; and second, later on, a
  failure of the form of heredity itself.

  Touching the first of the two consequences you say that
  'variations below or away from the standard would not be balanced
  by those above, because the standard was reached by the selection
  of such an extremely minute fraction of _all_ variations which
  occurred.' But can variations in the matter of increase or
  decrease take place in more than two directions, up or down,
  smaller and larger, better or worse? (Read Wallace, 'Darwinism,'
  pp. 143-4.)

  I write this in view of the lecture you say you are going to
  give, because I do not know when 'Nature' will bring out my
  article.


  March 20, 1890.

  It might perhaps be well for you to read the type-written reply
  which I have prepared to Wallace's criticism on 'physiological
  selection.' But this is for you to consider. He has fallen into
  some errors of great carelessness, not only with regard to my
  paper, but also to that of Mr. Gulick, whose theory of 'segregate
  fecundity' is the same as mine. On this account I am able to
  upset the whole criticism, and, bottom upwards, to show that it
  really supports the theory.

  I see 'Nature' of this week contains my letter on Panmixia, and
  hope it will define in your and other minds the outs and ins of
  the matter.

  Please return the enclosed, which I send as a fact that may
  interest you.


  _To Professor J. C. Ewart._

  18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: April 27, 1890.

  As Ethel has already told you, I believe, we have taken a three
  years' lease of a charming old house, and let this one for a
  corresponding period. It is a very old house in Oxford, having
  been built by Cardinal Wolsey. It is immediately opposite Tom
  Tower of Christ Church, and full of old oak--walls, floors, and
  ceilings of the principal rooms being nothing else.

  I do wish you could come up before we begin operations, to give
  us the benefit of your advice how so splendid an opportunity in
  the way of decoration should be utilised. We have to get out of
  this house, with all our furniture, on or before May 20. The
  children and servants will then go to Geanies, while my wife and
  I will go to Oxford to begin the decorations.

  I am preparing my lectures on Darwinism for the press, so that
  they may be ready for publication on the last day of my course
  at Edinburgh in November. I suppose I have your permission to
  reproduce your R.S. pictures of electric organs? Also, could you
  send me for a day or two Haddon's book on Embryology?

  I have just heard that Charles Lister (whom I think you met at
  Geanies) has died of fever in Brazil, where he was zoologising.

  Yours ever sincerely,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


[Illustration: 94 ST. ALDATE'S]

The move was made from London to Oxford in May 1890. Mr. Romanes
incorporated with the University and became a member of Christ
Church. This connection with 'the House' was a great pleasure to him.

For a little while during the early summer of 1890 Mr. Romanes was
alone in Oxford, and he writes:


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  I called to-day on Mr. Dodgson, to sign my name in the Common
  Room, and signed my name in the book where the signatures go
  back to the foundation of the House. It is certainly the best
  thing I could have done to join Christ Church, and I am enjoying
  this return to my undergraduate days as something quite novel.
  Yesterday Liddon[71] graced the high table with his company.
  He was particularly gracious to me, remembering all about our
  meeting years ago, and hoping to be allowed to have the pleasure
  of calling upon us when we were settled in the 'almshouse.'[72]
  After dinner in the Common Room, seeing that the party was both
  elderly and reverend, all the other six being parsons, I started
  what seemed to me a suitable game, viz. who could best 'card
  wool' in opposite directions, or turn the right hand round and
  round one way, while at the same time turning the left hand round
  and round the other way. This innocent occupation at once became
  very popular--the Canon in particular being greatly interested
  in the peculiar difficulty which it presents. For my own part, I
  much enjoyed the spectacle of all these dons winding their hands
  about, and this enjoyment reached its climax when Dr. Liddon
  ended by tilting his glass of claret off the table into his lap.

  But there is a good deal of fun from behind his serious exterior,
  and he enjoyed this little catastrophe as much as the rest of us.
  So you see that the snares and temptations of University life do
  not dangerously assail your husband at the high table of Christ
  Church.

  Yesterday we had our physiological picnic, starting in five
  boats, and taking tea on the river-bank near the old farmhouse.
  I took supper with the Sandersons, who had a party. The Victor
  Horsleys were at the picnic, and I have arranged that they will
  pay us a visit in October.

  It is very jolly living in this house, but it is well we are
  both good sleepers, the noise of traffic is so great, even the
  foot-passengers sound like burglars.

  But this will not affect the children in the other wing, and as
  for me, I could sleep if the carriages were driving through the
  rooms, with the burglars to boot.

  I have only time to write a very few lines, as I am now
  momentarily expecting to be called on to give my exposition
  before the Physiological Society,[73] which has mustered in
  considerable force, and is now being regaled by Horsley[74] and
  Gotch[75] while I am watching my plants which are coming on next.

  The dinner at Ch. Ch. yesterday was most enjoyable, though there
  were only four others besides myself at the high table. We had
  turtle soup and very good wine; is that good for gout?


  St. Aldate's: July 1, 1890.

  I have just come back from dinner. My next neighbour to-night was
  Liddon, and we had a long talk on the ethics of suicide regarded
  from the pre-Christian or purely 'secular' point of view.

  I also improved the occasion in the interests of ----. It was
  clearly a new light to Liddon that ---- should be so highly
  thought of by a man of science, and he appeared to have
  determined there and then to exert himself in getting a more
  suitable berth for 'a man now so greatly needed in the Church.'


  Oxford.

  Two bits of news. Dunstan[76] has a son and Liddon is seriously
  ill. Dr. John Ogle came yesterday afternoon from town to see him,
  and dined with us. There is great pain in the neck.

  I lunched with the Sandersons, or rather with Mrs. Sanderson, as
  the Professor did not leave his room, but he is getting on very
  well.

  Last night after dinner I looked in at the Poultons, and
  found them entertaining two Natural Science young ladies from
  Somerville Hall. A very agreeable party. Huxley is expected here
  this week. His article on 'Lux Mundi' is very characteristic.[77]

  It would be very enjoyable to go with you to Ober Ammergau, but
  I am sure I ought not. First, I should not enjoy it half so much
  as you; second, it would double the expense; third, it would run
  away with all the time I want to give to the book. So in this
  case what is sauce for the goose is not sauce for the gander.

  I wish I had some jokes to treasure up, but Oxford is not a
  joke-yielding place at present; Geanies must be jubilation itself
  compared with Oxford now.

  I am the sole occupant of the laboratory as of the house. But I
  rather enjoy the exclusive privilege of my own company, save so
  far as it is relieved by guinea-pigs. I have written a letter to
  'Nature' which will furnish a little joke for you on Friday next.

  I am sorry to hear poor old Parker[78] is dead. You did not know
  him, but he was a real good fellow, and hearty friend to me.

  I enjoyed my three days in London very much. Went twice to the
  theatre, and one of the plays was 'Judah.' Mr. H. A. Jones gave
  me a box. Saw a great deal of the Pollocks; met Scott,[79] who
  asked me to let him put me up for Royal Society Club; played
  chess with G. R. Turner.

  I have now got to work on my plants and guinea-pigs.


  _To Professor Poulton._

  Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: July 16, 1890.

  My dear Poulton,--I went to the tennis ground yesterday week,
  but, as I expected, on account of the rain, found nobody there.

  I now write to ask you if you would have any objection to my
  borrowing with acknowledgment figures from your book for mine,
  supposing the publishers also consent. In particular figs. 1, 2,
  6, 10, 40, and 41.

  Having now read the book,[80] I may say how greatly it has
  delighted me. The whole is a wonderful story, and I congratulate
  you on the large share which you have had in adding to this
  chapter of Darwinism.

  There is only one point I am not quite clear about, viz. pp.
  213-215. It is doubtless an advantage to the parasites that
  the caterpillars should warn them off as having been already
  'occupied.' But would not this be rather a _disadvantage_ to
  the caterpillars--_i.e._ to their _species_? For in this way,
  it seems to me, a greater number of caterpillars would become
  infested than would be the case in the absence of such warning.
  Or is there any point about it which I do not understand?

  When is your next book coming out? I should like you to read
  my reply to Wallace before it does. Also my re-statement of
  physiological selection, with discussion on the principles
  of Segregation and Divergence. I hope the whole will be in
  type before November. Can you wait till then, or shall I send
  type-written MSS.?

  Yours very sincerely,
  GEORGE J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--Talking about hon. degrees the last time I saw you reminded
  me--but something again put it out of my head--that I had been
  wondering why Oxford or Cambridge does not offer one to F.
  Galton. Could you start a movement in that direction?...

  I am getting so convinced about physiological selection, that I
  do not care what is said at random, or without understanding the
  theory.


Later in the autumn he writes:


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  I hope to find letters from Ober Ammergau when I return to
  Geanies, with a dozen bottles of sulphur water and several
  pounds of heather honey. Went yesterday to see a waterfall,
  which was wonderfully beautiful; on the way back met a pony with
  half a trap, and afterwards came on the other half with its
  previous occupants, Lord and Lady ----, cut about the face, but
  not seriously hurt. There is an awful row going on here in the
  Free Kirk, which bids fair to end in bloodshed locally, if not
  disruption generally.

  I am so glad you do not repent going, and am longing to
  hear what you think of the play. I took Ethel and Ernest
  partridge-shooting, and had tea outside. The new hound, 'Dart,'
  has arrived. He is beautiful, and as gentle as a lamb with the
  children. This threw us off our guard, and at tea there was a
  horrible scene, ending in the murder of Sharpe.[81] The latter
  barked at him, and five minutes afterwards was a mangled misery.
  Have returned Dart with a civil note, for the sake of Norah and
  Jack,[82] the latter having only been saved by heroic measures on
  the part of Mytsie.


Later in the autumn he wrote:


  _To Mrs. Henry Pollock._

  Geanies: October 9, 1890.

  My dear Mentor,--The lyric is certainly very pretty, but I am
  still--and much--more touched by the unrhymed, and perhaps
  unconscious, poetry that accompanies it. We have, indeed, many
  associations with Geanies in common;[83] and as neither the joys
  nor the sorrows of them can ever return into our lives as they
  were when they arose, it is perhaps better that they should be
  kept in our memories as they now are, without being overlaid by
  future experiences in the same moods and the same cliffs by the
  same sea. 'The water that has passed' has been beautiful, even in
  its sadness; and however long the wheel of life may still have to
  go, I do not think it could have done better work for any of us
  than during the years that it has gone at Geanies.

  With my philosophic love to both of you, ever the same,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  My very dear Mentor,--You are quite too kind to me. The touching
  little present has just arrived, and I am smoking it now. It
  is just the kind that I like best. I wonder whether the vendor
  thought it was for yourself? Very many thanks.

  Ethel sends her love, and tells me to ask you whether you want a
  copy of the photo group, where you do not look like a Mentor.

  I enclose payment for the pipe in the form of sonnets--although
  I am sure they are not so sweet--and remain, with love to Marion,

  Ever yours most sincerely,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


This autumn Mr. Romanes delivered the last of his Edinburgh course of
lectures. Giving the lectures had been a real pleasure, and he liked
his Scotch students, who on their side were keenly appreciative and
intelligent.

He was alone at Geanies for a few days before leaving for Edinburgh,
and a letter written at this time shows for the first time a
foreboding of failing health; but when the headaches left him the
foreboding vanished, and there was no real idea of serious mischief.


  _To his Wife._

  Geanies: November 1890.

  I really have three of your dear letters to answer. I did not
  write yesterday. I have had one continuous headache; it is now
  nearly away, but the matter is getting serious, and I have
  written to Edward,[84] to send the 'home trainer' to Oxford, so
  that I may lose no time in giving his cure (exercise) a trial.

  Don't get low about me; I begin to doubt if these headaches are
  due to gout at all, and somehow or other I shall find a means of
  preventing them.

  I am sorry for myself, my work, and most of all for you; but we
  must take illness as it comes, and be glad it is no worse.


  Geanies: October 31.

  I will not disappoint you about the sonnet, which you expect to
  be in the vein of 'Weltschmerz,' and therefore send you the first
  of the series which I wrote in the small hours, after reading
  your favourite Psalm.[85] There was only one verse that remained
  appropriate to me, so I took it as a text.

  The principal thing that has happened to-day is my having seen on
  the shore a sea otter. It was lying on a rock, and I came upon it
  at such close quarters I could have hit it with a stone. But it
  was so quick that I had not even time to fire my gun.

  I may return the compliment as to letters. I did not intend to
  send the sonnet even to you when I wrote it, but afterwards
  thought I ought to have no secrets.

  Fritz[86] and Ernest came out shooting. I am all right as to
  hitting;[87] and my head is perfectly well. Jack[88] has been
  very Jackish. I told him we were all going to leave Geanies. He
  said, 'Geanies belongs to us.' I answered, 'No, it belongs to
  the Murrays.' 'Part of it belongs to me,' he continued. 'How
  is that?' said I. 'Because I was born here.' What would Victor
  Horsley say to this for early appreciation of rights conferred by
  birth?

  Ernest and Gerald are very happy. I allow them to play with the
  fire when they are with me, and this I find to be very popular.


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  Edinburgh: November 23, 1890.

  My lectures are now concluded, and I took an affectionate
  farewell of the class amid much enthusiasm on their side.

  There is no news to give. I play chess with Mrs. Butcher and read
  MSS. which Professor Butcher lends me of his own; pay many calls,
  have sundry talks with professors that come to dine with Ewart,
  and so on.

  Yesterday we had here what at Cambridge used to be called a
  'Perpendicular,' twenty students to supper. Mrs. Butcher and Miss
  Trench came in to help to entertain them; the latter sang Irish
  songs.

  I am going to give an additional lecture to the class on the
  controversy in 'Nature.'[89]

  I send you a report of my lecture, that you may see how orthodox
  I was. Sellar[90] was at the lecture, and told me that I reminded
  him of some professor at St. Andrews, who had told him as a
  fact that he (the St. Andrews professor) always made a point of
  alluding to Providence in an introductory lecture, and afterwards
  'threw him aside!'


The sonnet alluded to in one of the letters (p. 265) is so beautiful
that it is inserted here. It shows better than any words could do the
attitude of George Romanes' mind. Profoundly sincere, anxious, almost
unduly anxious, to give no indulgence to his own longings, to state
to himself and to others unsparingly, unflinchingly, what appeared to
him the as yet irrefutable arguments against the Faith, when he was
alone he relaxed and poured out his inmost heart.

    'I ask not for Thy love, O Lord: the days
      Can never come when anguish shall atone.
      Enough for me were but Thy pity shown,
    To me as to the stricken sheep that strays,
    With ceaseless cry for unforgotten ways--
      O lead me back to pastures I have known,
      Or find me in the wilderness alone,
    And slay me, as the hand of mercy slays.

    I ask not for Thy love; nor e'en so much
      As for a hope on Thy dear breast to lie;
    But be Thou still my shepherd--still with such
      Compassion as may melt to such a cry;
    That so I hear Thy feet, and feel Thy touch,
      And dimly see Thy face ere yet I die.'

In November Mr. Romanes came formally into residence, and at first
nothing could have been happier than his Oxford life.

He simply revelled in the facilities for work which the splendidly
equipped laboratories afforded, and he once said, 'that the
laboratory alone had made the move from London to Oxford worth while!'

He set to work on his book, 'Darwin, and after Darwin,' and on many
experiments bearing on Professor Weismann's theories and on some
other points.

He much wished to see established in Oxford what M. Giard has called
an _Institut transformiste_, and wrote to many leading men of science
on the subject. As yet the idea has come to nothing, but possibly it
may be revived.


  January 22, 1891.

  My dear Poulton,--I am very sorry that, being already engaged for
  to-morrow, I cannot attend the meeting. But I should like to
  join the Society.[91] Only, please, postpone any suggestion about
  lecturing, as this term I shall be dreadfully busy, between the
  book and the experiments. H. has certainly been very successful
  over a very difficult experiment. I tried it in an elaborate way.
  But I lacked assistance for the mechanical performance, and so
  intended to do it here this term. Now I am saved the trouble,
  but have gained experience. This prevents me from regarding H.'s
  result as final, although, as you say, valuable. My scepticism is
  founded on a queer freak of heredity, which my own work showed
  me; but as I think I spoke too much about the experiments I was
  trying, in future I shall adopt Weismann's method of silence
  before publication.

  Yours ever,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


About this time Mr. Romanes was much interested in a scheme for
promoting the establishment of a garden or farm for the purpose
of studying questions of hereditary transmission, or heredity.
His object was to afford facilities which at present do not
exist for observing the modifications produced in animals and
plants by subjecting them during long periods and in successive
generations to suitable external conditions, and for testing the
transmissibility of the modifications so produced. He was anxious
that such an Institution should be founded in connection with one
of the Universities, and with this view, circulated the following
memorandum.


  'AN INSTITUT TRANSFORMISTE.'

  In an English translation of a lecture which was recently
  delivered by M. Giard, as Professor of Evolutionary Biology in
  France, there occurs the following passage:

  'If evolutionists must content themselves in most cases with
  experiments carried on in nature, or those of breeders, instead
  of applying themselves to verifications made with all the
  rigour of modern scientific precision, is it not because of the
  deplorable insufficiency of our laboratories? It is astonishing
  that in no country, not even where science is held in greatest
  honour, does there yet exist an _Institut transformiste_ devoted
  to the long and costly experiments now indispensable for the
  progress of evolutionary biology.'

  That an institution of the kind in question would tend to promote
  the solution of problems in 'evolutionary biology,' it seems
  needless to argue. Many of the most desirable experiments in
  heredity and variation, for example, require such prolonged time
  and such constant attention, that it is practically impossible
  for individual workers to undertake them; and, therefore, as
  M. Giard observes, they have never been undertaken. But if
  there were an _Institut transformiste_ to which material might
  be sent from any part of the world, with directions as to its
  treatment, biologists of all countries would be furnished with an
  opportunity of experimentally testing any ideas which might occur
  to them in regard to these or kindred matters.

  Again, it seems needless to remark that England ought to be
  regarded as the natural territory of an establishment of this
  character; that the establishment itself should be situated in
  the vicinity of others which are already devoted to the study of
  morphology and physiology; and that sufficient land should belong
  to the _Institut_ to admit of plots of ground being set apart for
  researches on plants, as well as buildings for the accommodation
  of animals.

  In order to satisfy all these conditions, the _Institut_ ought to
  be established either in Oxford or Cambridge; and at least, one
  skilled naturalist, one competent gardener, and one trustworthy
  keeper ought to be resident. This would involve an annual
  expenditure of between 300_l._ and 400_l._ But the capital sum
  which would have to be sunk in the purchase of land and the
  erection of buildings would not be considerable; because, in
  the first instance, at all events, two or three acres of ground
  would probably be sufficient; while the animal houses would be
  chiefly--if not exclusively--required for the accommodation of
  small mammalia, birds, insects, and aquatic organisms.

  Nevertheless, seeing that an initial expenditure of at least
  1,000_l._ would be needed for the purposes just mentioned, as
  well as an annual income of at least 400_l._, and seeing that
  even this much money is not likely to be forthcoming for objects
  of a purely scientific nature, the scheme on behalf of which we
  solicit your opinion is the following.

  From inquiries which we have made here, we think it is probable
  that the University would take up the matter, or, at any rate,
  render important assistance thereto, if the Hebdomadal Council
  were satisfied as to the desirability of the project from a
  scientific point of view. It is on this account that we have
  ventured to address you upon the subject. The appended memorial
  is being sent, together with this circular letter, to all the
  other leading biologists in this country; and if you could see
  your way to signing the former, you would render additional
  weight to the body of authoritative opinion which it will
  eventually convey to the University.


One of the experiments Mr. Romanes tried in the summers of 1891-93
was as to whether animals completely isolated would reproduce
the _real_ sounds natural to their kind. In other words, whether
these vocal sounds were due to imitation. Through the kindness of
Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Romanes got the permission of the Trinity
Brethren to try these experiments on lighthouses situated on lonely
islands or rocks; he selected puppies, chickens, &c., but the results
were not decisive. The puppies barked and the young cocks crowed,
but Mr. Romanes was not able entirely to establish to his own
satisfaction that the isolation had been complete.

Experiments were also carried on bearing on Heliotropism and on Seed
Germination. Of these mention will be made later.

In the spring of 1891, he paid a visit to Paris and saw M. Pasteur
and his laboratory, and also M. Brown-Séquard, in whose work he was
specially interested.

And, apart from his work, Oxford and Oxford life were great sources
of enjoyment. He made many new friends, and keenly enjoyed the
institution, so characteristic of Oxford, of 'walks.'

Intimacies seemed to grow up quickly, and he often spoke of the
extreme kindliness, the 'pleasantness' which marked Oxford society.

Of all the friends made in these four years, Mr. Romanes undoubtedly
was most drawn to the Rev. Charles Gore.

It is very difficult, very often misleading and even impertinent
to speak of what one man owes to another in the way of direct or
indirect intellectual or spiritual help. But those few persons who
really watched and could see the workings of George Romanes' mind,
saw that these Oxford years were, even before the first beginnings of
fatal illness, years of rapid growth in what perhaps may be termed
spiritual perception.

In 1891 Mr. Gore's famous Bampton Lectures were preached. Mr. Romanes
heard them all, and was intensely interested by them; he wrote many
notes on them for his own private use, notes by no means always in
agreement with them, and in his 'Thoughts on Religion' he refers to
them.

Many of his older friends were clergymen, and he was once much amused
by hearing that a scientific friend in London had said, 'How on earth
will Romanes stand the clerical atmosphere of Oxford?' Another time,
a very eminent scientific man asked him his opinion of Liberal High
Churchmen, 'Do you really think these people believe what they say?'
to which Mr. Romanes replied that he knew several pretty intimately,
and he was sure they would all go to the stake on behalf of their
Faith.

In the spring of 1891 Mr. Romanes was elected by the committee a
member of the Athenæum Club. The Journal notes:


  Pleasant dinners at Merton, Keble, &c. Visit from the Gills,[92]
  which we much enjoyed. Lord and Lady Compton, from the 6th to the
  8th of June. He delighted us with his magnificent singing.


This summer, for the first time, Scotland and shooting were given up,
and Mr. Romanes, accompanied by his wife and daughter, tried what the
Engadine would do for his incessant headaches.

He enjoyed this tour, especially three weeks at Tarasp, in the lower
Engadine, where he met his old friend Professor Joachim and also
Professor Victor Carus. On the way back the Romanes stayed with Mr.
H. Graham, M.P., at his lovely country home near Heidelberg, enjoying
themselves much, but failing to see the famous ghost which is said
to haunt the place. In the autumn, in spite of often-recurring
headaches, he struggled on with his work and lectured in one or two
provincial towns.

He says in one of his letters at this time: 'There is much excitement
in Oxford to-day over the announcement that Paget is to be the new
Dean of Christ Church. Of course we are greatly delighted. As he said
to me to-day, 'We may now look forward to being close neighbours for
not a few years to come.'


  _Journal, Nov., Birmingham Festival._--The 'Messiah' and Dvorak's
  'Requiem,' Parry's 'Blest Pair of Sirens,' which one never hears
  too often. Went to Compton Wynyates, a splendid old house of
  temp. Henry VII. Only Lady Compton at home, but we much enjoyed
  our little visit. Went up to town and saw the Edmund Gosses and
  various other old friends. Saw Miss Rehan and her company in
  their last performance, 'A Last Word.' Poor play, but well acted.


It was during this autumn that Mr. Romanes resolved to found a
lectureship at Oxford on the lines of the Rede Lectures at Cambridge,
and after consulting various friends, chiefly the present Master
of Pembroke,[93] the idea was submitted to the University and the
offer was accepted. The preface, which is to be prefixed to the first
volume of Lectures, gives the founder's ideas.


  _Founder's Preface._

  The primary object of this Lectureship is to secure a perpetual
  series of discourses in the University of Oxford under the
  conditions laid down in the foregoing Statute. But seeing that
  these conditions are necessarily of a general character, I add
  the following suggestions with regard to certain matters of
  detail, in order that, as far as from time to time may seem
  expedient, the proceedings may be conducted in accordance with my
  wishes.

  (1) I desire that the selection of lecturers be irrespective
  of nationality, and determined with reference either (_a_) to
  general eminence in art, literature, or science, or (_b_) to
  special claims for discussing any particular subject of high
  interest at the time.

  (2) I deem it desirable that foreigners, otherwise eligible,
  should not be disqualified from receiving invitations to lecture
  merely because they may not be able to do so in English. And, in
  order to meet such cases, I suggest that the translated addresses
  should be delivered before the University by some competent
  reader (to be selected by the Vice-Chancellor) in the presence of
  their authors.

  (3) I further suggest that the same method of delivery should be
  adopted in cases where age or infirmity would render the voice
  of the lecturer inaudible, or indistinct, to any portion of his
  audience. And I hope that neither age nor infirmity, any more
  than inability to speak the English language, will be deemed
  a hindrance to the issuing of invitations to the men of high
  distinction in their several departments. For, on the one hand,
  in order to have attained such distinction, it must often happen
  that such men will have attained old age, while, on the other
  hand, it is of more importance that they should be represented in
  these decennial volumes than that men of less eminence should be
  chosen in view of their superiority as lecturers.

  G. J. ROMANES.


To the great satisfaction of the whole University, Mr. Gladstone most
generously consented to give the first lecture, which consent he
signified in the following letter:


  Grand Hotel. Biarritz: December 18, 1891.

  Dear Mr. Romanes,--Until I received your kind letter I reposed
  undoubtingly in the belief that the Vice-Chancellor had accepted
  my answer as the answer which best met the case.[94] I thought
  and think it right, for no one knows my poverty except myself.
  But Oxford is Oxford, and I think that if she desired me to climb
  up the spire of Salisbury, I should attempt it, or play the
  _Græculus esuriens_ in any manner she desired. Your letter opens
  to me unexpectedly the fact that there is a desire, and that the
  proposal was not simply a courtesy.

  I therefore thankfully and respectfully accept; secretly relying
  a good deal, as I own, on the fact that there is (if I recollect
  the V.C.'s letter rightly) a good deal of time before me,
  and that the chances of intermediate reflection may bring up
  something to the surface which is not now there, for I own my
  perplexity continues as to the chance of making any presentation
  not wholly worthless. But enough of this: and let me thank you
  very much for the interest you, who have so high a title, have
  personally taken in bringing me to the front.

  We are much delighted with this place; more eminently, I think, a
  sea place than any other I happen to know.

  I am sure, let me add, that you will make my apologies to the
  Vice-Chancellor; for I am sensible that the altered reply may
  seem less than respectful to the resident Head of the University.

  Believe me, most faithfully yours,
  W. E. GLADSTONE.


It had been arranged that the lectures (which the University, rather
against the Founder's wish, decided should be called the 'Romanes
Lectures') were to be given in the Trinity Term, but owing to the
General Election of 1891, Mr. Gladstone postponed the delivery of his
inaugural lecture until October 1892.


  _Journal, March 1892._--The Comptons have been here for Norman's
  baptism, which was a strikingly pretty ceremony in cathedral at
  evening service with the choir. Our Dean and the President of
  Magdalen, as well as Lady Compton, stood sponsors, so the boy
  is well provided. The students at St. Hugh's Hall decorated the
  font, and as the boy's second name is Hugh, he is a special
  protégé of the little Hall.

  _April 1._--We spent a week at Malvern, in company with the
  Walter Hobhouses, and then went on to Denton Manor,[95] where
  a company of the wise, including Ray Lankester, Professors
  Poulton and Shadworth Hodgson, and Mr. Sully, were. Also others,
  including Lady Cecil Scott Montagu, who walked abroad with a
  divining rod, a real act of courage considering who were among
  the party.


At Malvern Mr. Romanes wrote a sonnet which, in the light of after
years, was a sad prophecy.

    _MALVERN_ 1892

    'To doze upon a sunny hill in June,
      And hear the lullaby that Nature lends;
      To drink the cup that sweet contentment blends
    With sweetlier love of those whose hearts shall soon
    Reverberate with joy, as they attune
      Their praise to praises that achievement sends:
      This is to feel that bounteous Nature bends
    A mother's smile on manhood in its noon.

    But when the shadows of the twilight come,
      And high Ambition needs must fold his wings,
    While voices both of hearts and hills grow dumb,
      Can she still bring the smile that now she brings?
      Yea, by the memory of brighter things,
    I'll trust her in the night that calls me home.'


  _Journal, May and June 1892._--Had a delightful visit from the
  Butchers and Mr. H. Graham, later on the Comptons, and Mr. Edmund
  Gosse, full of witty and wise sayings. Lord Compton sang more
  divinely than ever, and the Principal of Brasenose played the
  piano. It was a real musical feast.

  Professor Le Conte came to stay here, we had Mr. Gore and one or
  two others to meet him.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 10, 1892.

  My dearest Charlotte,--I received your letter of the 6th inst.,
  together with the pair of slippers; the latter are the very thing
  that is required when occasion again arises.

  Ever since you left we have been having Italian weather, the only
  objection to which being, that for my taste the sunshine is too
  continuous.

  We have had staying with us Professor Palgrave and his daughter.
  I am going to take her to the Conversazione of the Royal Society
  on Wednesday next, as Ethel is going to stay behind for her
  political work. We have also had Lord Justice Fry, with his wife
  and daughter, staying with us for two or three days.

  I have got a promise from Professor Huxley to give the second
  Romanes Lecture, provided he is able to do so next year. It will
  be an interesting occasion if he can, because he has not lectured
  for the last five or six years.

  I am glad you like my book, which is selling off very well; but,
  as you know, the second volume will be much more interesting.

  We are all well, and, with united love to both, I remain yours
  ever the same,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


A new investigation is here described.


  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: March 27, 1892.

  My dear Schäfer,--I think I have found a new ordinal character
  peculiar to the Primates--viz. a nude condition of the terminal
  phalanges. This does not occur in any other order of mammals that
  I have looked at, but in all species of primates from Lemurs to
  Man, as far, at all events, as I have been able to examine. Now I
  want to see whether hair-follicles, or vestiges thereof, can be
  found in the terminal phalanges of any species of the order. So
  I am making a number of sections of the skin of the backs of the
  terminal phalanges of fingers and toes, of man (adult and fœtal)
  apes, monkeys, baboons, and lemurs. Hitherto I cannot detect
  (nor can Kent) any signs or vestiges of follicles. But I should
  much like you to look over some of the specimens (a few would be
  enough), in order to see whether your trained eyes would be also
  unable to trace any rudiments of follicles. If you would care to
  do this, of course I should acknowledge my obligations in a paper
  which I am preparing on the subject.

  Yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


'Darwin, and after Darwin' appeared in the spring of 1892.

It was a book which was written, so to speak, with the writer's
life-blood, it was a great burden on him from the moment he commenced
it, and one of his greatest sorrows was his inability to finish it.

It is curious to those who know Mr. Romanes' mind intimately to
note the exceeding severity, the almost harsh manner in which he
treated the theological questions involved in the doctrines called,
for convenience sake, 'Darwinism.' As more and more he found himself
yielding on the side of emotion, of moral convictions, inducement,
of spiritual need to the relinquished faith, so much the more did
he resolve to be utterly true, to face every difficulty, to push no
objection aside, to leave nothing unsaid--to be, in fact, absolutely
and entirely honest. As a friend after his death, speaking of this
very book, said, 'It was his _righteousness_ which made him seem so
hard.'

Yet there is a ring of hope of something which will one day turn to
faith in the words which end the book:


  'Upon the whole, then, it seems to me that such evidence as we
  have is against rather than in favour of the inference, that if
  design be operative in animate nature it has reference to animal
  enjoyment or well-being, as distinguished from animal improvement
  or evolution. And if this result should be found distasteful to
  the religious mind--if it be felt that there is no desire to
  save the evidences of design unless they serve at the same time
  to testify to the nature of that design as beneficent--I must
  once more observe that the difficulty thus presented to theism
  is not a difficulty of modern creation. On the contrary, it has
  always constituted the fundamental difficulty with which natural
  theologians have had to contend. The external world appears,
  in this respect, to be at variance with our moral sense; and
  when the antagonism is brought home to the religious mind, it
  must ever be with a shock of terrified surprise. It has been
  newly brought home to us by the generalisations of Darwin, and
  therefore, as I said at the beginning, the religious thought
  of our generation has been more than ever staggered by the
  question--Where is now thy God? But I have endeavoured to show
  that the logical standing of the case has not been materially
  changed; and when this cry of reason pierces the heart of Faith
  it remains for Faith to answer now, as she always answered
  before--and answered with that trust which is at once her beauty
  and her life--Verily thou art a God that hidest Thyself.'


June 1892 brought the first warnings of serious illness. One day Mr.
Romanes announced at lunch that he noticed a blind spot in one eye.
He consulted his friend Mr. Doyne, the well-known oculist, who from
the first thought seriously of the case.

He went up to town, and saw various doctors, and had some thoughts
of taking a voyage. He was, however, well enough to attend the
Conversazione at the Royal Society, and showed some experiments on
rabbits and rats which bore on questions of acquired characters. He
writes:


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  I have been thinking of you a great deal, and, with a somewhat
  literal application of a certain expletive addressed by a fast
  man to his eyes, am driven to address you through my goggles.

  Nettleship has appointed to-morrow morning to see me, so I shall
  not be able to get home sooner than 6 train. Don't trouble to
  meet me, as I must take a cab for the rabbits and rats. The
  latter are now at the Royal Society, where ample space has
  been provided for their exhibition. The Zoological paper[96]
  went off very well, and Flower made a very good remark on it,
  the substance of which I will tell you when we meet, it had
  not previously occurred to me. Your letter to the Pollocks
  never reached them, so they had given me up. They were as
  enthusiastically kind as usual, and very sympathetic about my
  eyes.


He returned to Oxford, and was persuaded to rest, and not to go to
London again to pay a promised visit to Professor Palgrave.


  _To Miss C. E. Romanes._

  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 18, 1892.

  My dearest Charlotte,--Your little differences of opinion with
  regard to the rats are very amusing to me, and I quite see how
  the matter stands.

  I am very glad to hear of your improvement in general health,
  and also of James' continued vigour. As regards myself I have
  no very satisfactory account to give. The headaches indeed are
  not worse--if anything they are better; but the gout is at work
  on other parts of this vile body, and the latest assault is a
  very serious one for a man of my pursuits. About ten days ago I
  found myself partially blind in the right eye--the upper half of
  the field of vision being totally obliterated. I have seen an
  Oxford and also a London oculist, who have both examined the eye
  and pronounce the sudden seizure to be one of serous effusion
  upon the retina. It seems probable that the impairment of vision
  will be permanent, and so prevent all operative work where any
  delicacy is required. The blindness is so complete, that if I
  look about an inch below the electric light placed at a distance
  of a very few yards, I am not able to perceive any luminosity.
  Meanwhile, I have to wear the darkest of possible goggles, and
  generally to live the life of a blind man. _Per contra_, this may
  prove a blessing in disguise, as it compels me to abstain from
  work for some considerable time to come, and I had been advised
  to this course on account of the headaches. How I am to spend the
  six months' rest which is prescribed I have not yet determined.
  Shooting will be probably out of the question, as I cannot use
  the left eye in any form of recreation. My idea is rather to
  go to Egypt and Palestine, to take a voyage to the Cape, or in
  some other such way to break my usual habits without altogether
  wasting time.

  All the rest of the household are flourishing, and with love to
  both,

  I remain yours ever the same,
  GEORGE.


In a day or two a second blind spot appeared, and now the doctors
took a very serious view of his case. Life and sight alike were
threatened, and instant rest and quiet were ordered. For about
three weeks he remained in bed, until the extreme pulse tension was
reduced, and then it seemed as if hope might be entertained of years
of life, if only care were taken about diet, and work, and thought.

Now began the two years of quiet, steadfast, endurance; no one could
realise from his quiet manner and cheerful talk how great was the
inconvenience caused by the affection of his eyes, no one ever found
him anything but unselfish and gentle. The one difficulty was to
persuade him not to work, and this was almost impossible. He was
almost feverishly anxious to finish his book, to work out experiments
he had been planning; and as time went on, and he thought and
pondered as he had ever done on the ultimate mysteries of life and
being, other books were planned, other courses of reading mapped out.

Just then a letter came from Canon Scott-Holland which much touched
the recipient.

Mr. Holland writes:


  'I hear sad news of you through Philip Waggett.[97] You have
  passed under the sorest trial perhaps that could have been laid
  on your courage, your hopefulness, your peace.

  I trust, indeed, that there is much to look for yet of recovered
  power and renewed work, but, for the moment, there must be
  anxiety, and the bitter strain of disappointment, and the rough
  curb of pain. You are assured of the deep sympathy of many
  warmhearted friends to whom you have always shown most generous
  kindness, and I venture to rank myself among them. We shall
  remember you often and anxiously.

  It is a tremendous moment when first one is called upon to join
  the great army of those who suffer.

  That vast world of love and pain opens suddenly to admit us one
  by one within its fortress.

  We are afraid to enter into the land, yet you will, I know,
  feel how high is the call. It is as a trumpet speaking to us,
  that cries aloud--'It is your turn--endure.' Play your part. As
  they endured before you, so now, close up the ranks--be patient
  and strong as they were. Since Christ, this world of pain is no
  accident untoward or sinister, but a lawful department of life,
  with experiences, interests, adventures, hopes, delights, secrets
  of its own. These are all thrown open to us as we pass within the
  gates--things that we could never learn or know or see, so long
  as we were well.

  God help you to walk through this world now opened to you as
  through a kingdom, regal, royal, and wide and glorious. My
  warmest sympathies to your wife.'


The first weeks of illness passed away, the physicians seemed more
satisfied with his condition, and he was sent to Carlsbad, and after
five weeks there, came the last bit of pleasant foreign travel. He
and his wife travelled in the Tyrol and in the Bavarian Highlands,
and Mr. Romanes was able to enjoy the glorious scenery with what
seemed keener appreciation than ever; he especially took a fancy to
Parten Kirchen, in Bavaria, and planned a return to it another year
with his children.

He got as far as Meran, and much enjoyed meeting Mr. and Mrs. Lecky
(Mr. Lecky's works were among the very few historical books he read
with any real pleasure). And on his return, Sir Andrew Clark was
encouraging, holding out hopes of a return to health: 'You've made
a bid for recovery,' he said in his genial way. It was thought best
that Mr. Romanes should spend the winter in a warm climate, and
Madeira was chosen.

Then came the first Romanes lecture, which was a great success
in every way. Mr. Gladstone called it 'An Academic Sketch,' and
nothing could have been a happier inauguration of the series. It was
a memorable scene. The Prime Minister in his doctor's robes, the
crowded Sheldonian theatre, the eloquent lecture, the inspiring words
of which came like a trumpet call to Oxford's sons, ending with her
motto, 'Dominus illuminatio mea.'

The few days of Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone's visit to Oxford were days of
real enjoyment to Mr. Romanes. The Journal notes: 'We had a pleasant
luncheon party for the Gladstones and Lord Acton, who was also in
Oxford; also a breakfast party on the morning after the lecture, to
which, among others, came the Principal of St. Edmund's Hall.[98] I
put him next Mr. Gladstone, and the consequence was a Dante talk,
to Lady Compton's great satisfaction. Mr. Gladstone's talk was
wonderful, and no one would have suspected that he had any political
cares whatsoever, or that the Election of 1892 was only just over.'

On the day of the lecture we had a delightful time before lunch. Mary
Paget and Lord Compton sang for an hour, and put us in good humour.

It was with real regret that good-bye was said to the illustrious
guests, with hopes of future meetings never to be realised.

Mr. Huxley accepted the invitation which the Vice-Chancellor
permitted Mr. Romanes to give him privately. The following delightful
letter gives his final decision:[99]


  Hodeslea, Staveley Road, Eastbourne: November 1, 1892.

  My dear Mrs. Romanes,--I have just written to the Vice-Chancellor
  to say that I hope to meet his disposition any time next May.

  My wife is 'larking'--I am sorry to use such a word, but what she
  is pleased to tell me of her doings leaves me no alternative--in
  London, whither I go on Monday to fetch her back--in chains, if
  necessary. But I know, in the matter of being 'taken in and done
  for' by your hospitable selves, I may, for once, speak for her as
  much as myself.

  Don't ask anybody above the rank of the younger son of a peer,
  because I shall not be able to go into dinner before him or her,
  and that part of my dignity is naturally what I prize most.

  Would you not like me to come in my P.C.[100] suit? All ablaze
  with gold, and costing a sum with which I could buy, oh! so many
  books.

  Only if your late experiences should prompt you to instruct your
  other guests not to contradict me--don't--I rather like it.

  Ever yours very truly,
  T. H. HUXLEY.

  Bon voyage! You can tell Mr. Jones[101] that I will have him
  brought before the Privy Council, and fined as in the good old
  days, if he does not treat you properly.


Then came the departure for Madeira, which was a real trial, for
never before had Christmas been spent away from home. But the change
seemed to do him much good. Save for occasional days of headache he
was very bright and well, and worked at his book and wrote several
articles for the 'Contemporary Review' on Professor Weismann's
theory. But poetry he could not manage.


  _To Mrs. Henry Pollock._

  Madeira: December 18, 1892.

  My dear Mentor,--I fear you must have been thinking that I am
  either very ill or very heartless not to have written ere this.
  Yet neither is the case. Ill I assuredly am, but not so much as
  to have prevented me from sending you a letter for the marriage
  day. The fact is I have been trying to write a sonnet for that
  occasion ever since I came out here, and cannot. Since my
  breakdown in June I have entirely lost the power of poetising;
  I suppose it will come back if my general health should ever
  return, but still I did think that such an occasion ought to have
  inspired me. Nothing further than rhymes, however, would come,
  so the day passed over without my intended contribution to its
  memorials.

  So, dear Mentor, do not think hardly of me. For indeed both you
  and Marion have been much in my thoughts; and for you especially
  I know this time must be one of many and varied feelings of the
  kind that sink deepest into the heart.[102] So not only my old
  affection, but a new sympathy, is with you--a sympathy in the joy
  as in the grief of it.

  Ethel will have told you what little has to be told about our
  uneventful life here. As I have said to all my correspondents, it
  is the island that Tennyson must have had in view when he wrote
  his 'Lotus-eaters.' The description is so exact, that _I_ need
  not write anything in the way of description, if you will only
  read _it_.

  My headaches are growing less intense, although they still keep
  wonderfully persistent. I cannot foresee what is likely to happen
  in the end, as no one seems to know exactly what is the matter
  with me.

  The last mail brought me a letter from the Master of my College
  at Cambridge, telling me that I had been unanimously elected
  to fill a vacancy in the list of Honorary Fellows. This seems
  to me very generous, seeing how I have played the prodigal and
  squandered my living on endowing the enemy.

  Please give my very heartiest love and good wishes to the bride.
  Take also my Christmas greetings for all three of you, coupled
  with the congratulations that are so meet, and believe me to
  remain,

  Yours ever affectionately,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  Madeira: 1892.

  I suppose you will have seen in the newspapers, or have been
  told by Char.,[103] that Caius College has made me an Honorary
  Fellow.[104] This is a great pleasure to me, because I have
  always retained my first love for Cambridge, and yet of late
  years I have so severed my connection with it. These coals of
  fire have therefore a heat about them which is all the more
  gratifying.


  _To Professor Ewart._

  This would be a wonderful place for natural history if I were
  well enough to knock about.

  I get fishermen, however, to bring any marine animals which they
  know to be rare. There is one fish which I never heard of before,
  and which seems to me remarkable on account of its curious
  combinations of character, for in all respects it seems to be a
  large dog-fish, excepting its teeth, which are those of a shark.


  _To Professor Poulton._

  New Hotel, Madeira: December 2, 1892.

  My dear Poulton,--I have now read the correspondence in 'Nature.'
  It seems to me that ---- is quite absurdly 'aggressive,' even
  supposing that he proves to be right. But I send this to ask
  you about the grasshopper letter in last week's 'Nature,' just
  received here. I have noticed the same thing in grasshoppers,
  but do not remember to have seen any account of the changes of
  colour, or mechanism thereof, in them. Do you know if it has ever
  been worked at? If not, I might do so here.

  The same question applies to lizards. It seems to me that those
  here vary their colours to suit those of _habitual_ stations.
  I remember Eimer read a paper about the lizards in Capri, but
  forget details. He often alludes to it in his book translated by
  Cunningham. What are his main results?

  G. J. R.


The Cambridge Fellowship was a great pleasure to Mr. Romanes. In
the last months of his life he longed eagerly to visit his first
University and his own college, and planned visits to Cambridge
which, alas, were never paid.

Canon Isaac Taylor was in the same hotel at Madeira, and this
considerably relieved the weariness of exile. Mr. Romanes was still
full of fun and merriment; the headaches diminished; he played chess
interminably, and even took part in a little play given one afternoon
by a few people who formed themselves into an 'Oxford Brotherhood,'
most of the members having some connection with the University of
Oxford.

The members of the brotherhood were supposed to deliver lectures in
turn, but the burden chiefly fell on Mr. Romanes. The lecturing,
which in this particular case was simply talking, was never any
trouble to him, and he used to deliver little impromptu discourses
which apparently pleased his friendly audience. Canon Taylor kindly
gave a discourse on the Aryans, and displeased one of his audience,
a young lady, by remarking at the outset, 'My specimens (alluding to
Romanes' scientific lectures) are before me, and I suppose we are all
Aryans.' The young lady had imagined she was about to hear a lecture
on Church history, and was not pleased at being dubbed an _Arian_.

Mr. Romanes' letters showed nearly always great brightness and
increased feelings of health, although now and then he had 'bad
days.'


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  Madeira: January 1, 1893.

  This is the first letter which I write in 1893, and am writing
  it early in the morning before breakfast. New Year's Day is as
  glorious in sunshine and azure as all--or nearly all--the others
  have been since we came. I wish you many returns of them and
  happy, whether in cloud or sunshine.


  January 31, 1893.

  Your letter on the 15th has been a great treat to me; it rings
  true and deep, and the next best thing to having dear ones near
  is to receive expressions of their dearness.

  Besides, I am all alone here, for but a few days, it is true,
  still the place seems dreary under present circumstances,
  therefore all you say is opportunely said.

  For my own part I have always felt that the two most precious
  things in life are faith and love, and more and more the older
  that I grow. Ambition and achievement are a long way behind
  in my experience, in fact out of the running altogether. The
  disappointments are many and the prizes few, and by the time they
  are attained seem small.

  The whole thing is vanity and vexation of spirit without faith
  and love.

  Perhaps it is by way of compensation for having lost the former
  that the latter has been dealt to me in such full measure. I
  never knew anyone so well off in this respect....

  Although I have been very much in the world I have not a single
  enemy, unless it be the ----, who have entirely dropped out of my
  life.

  On the other hand, I do not know anyone who has so many friends,
  not merely acquaintances, but men and women who are devoted with
  an ardent affection....

  Now, all this might sound very conceited to anyone who would not
  understand me as I know you will do. But I have been thinking
  the matter over in my solitude, and candidly I am wholly unable
  to account for it. Still, to be further candid, even love is
  not capable of becoming to me any compensation for the loss of
  faith....

  But it is time for me to go to bed and shut up this egotistic
  screed to post by to-morrow's mail.

  I received a telegram yesterday announcing the arrival in England
  of my brace of Ethels, and to-morrow I expect the arrival here of
  Charlotte and Mytsie.[105]...

  I forgot about the mesmerism article. You will have seen that
  the writer rather caved in at the end, so that one cannot well
  understand how much he himself supposes was genuine and how much
  imposture.

  But quite apart from (this), there is no question in my mind
  that the facts, even as far as hitherto established, are very
  perplexing. But on this account there is all the more need for
  caution. I myself went over the Paris Salpétrière two years ago,
  and saw the doctors' experiments on a number of girls, who were
  trotted out for my benefit.

  But there was such a lot of hocus pocus with magnets that I was
  much disappointed. Even if none of the girls were humbugging, I
  saw nothing that could not be explained by suggestion.

  For the doctors made suggestions while performing the very
  experiments which were designed to exclude suggestion.


  _To Mrs. Vernon Boys._

  New Hotel, Madeira: February 1, 1893.

  My dear Marion,--If I have your husband's permission still to
  call you so--your kind letter has been a great solace to me,
  after my ineffectual efforts to supply a sonnet for the great
  occasion. For it shows me that your Laureate is forgiven, and
  my friend, what that friend has always been. Besides, I am now
  lonely--as my brace of Ethels has flown away--and therefore your
  affectionate words are all the more welcome.

  This, however, is the last day of my solitude, as Charlotte and
  Mytsie ought to arrive in a few hours.

  And now, having given you all my little news, let me pile up my
  congratulations as high as words can pile them. I heard all about
  the wedding from many different sources, and there was but one
  opinion as to the bride. I will not say what it was, but oh, had
  I been there to see. It is _so so_ good of you to miss us in the
  middle of it all. But it may have been telepathy, because I was
  hard at work on my abortive sonnet all that day.

  It is like northern breezes to read your account of all the
  happy doings you have had on your wedding trip, and it makes me
  happy to feel that you have made so wise a choice in the greatest
  event of your life. Long may you live together in the cultivation
  of domestic bliss, although _of course_ only in the moments
  snatched from the cultivation of science!


  February 2.

  Charlotte and Mytsie arrived last night at ten o'clock--twelve
  hours late. They had the roughest voyage which the boat has ever
  experienced. Poor Char.[106] is literally more dead than alive.
  But the weather here is beautiful, and I hope she may soon get to
  rights again.

  With affectionate regards to my mentor, and to _yours_, I remain,
  ever the same,

  PHILOSOPHER.


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  Madeira: March 8.

  Charlotte enjoys this place amazingly, she is always saying,
  'Just a very Paradise for James.' I quite agree with her. You
  liked Nice very much, but Nice is far from being up to this
  either in regard to sun, flowers, rocks, or mountains. It has
  certainly done me a lot of good. My headaches are virtually gone,
  and I can work a little again, which makes all the difference
  between Heaven and its antipodes.


  March 13.

  I am glad you are pleased about the lectureship foundation. The
  principal feature of the scheme is the perpetual publication of
  the lectures in volumes of ten each through all time, or at least
  as long as Oxford lasts.

  I am better even since I last wrote to you. Even my powers of
  work have, to a considerable extent, returned. So I am answering
  H. Spencer's articles on 'Weismannism.'

  With warmest love, yours ever the same,
  GEORGE.


  _To Mrs. G. J. Romanes._

  Madeira.

  I got your dear note soon after we went down to the pier to see
  you start. Through the club telescope I thought I saw you and
  Fritz. When you got far out I came home. The Taylors joined
  our table, which is very agreeable. The Canon told me a good
  joke which came off to-day. Sir 'Gorgias' told the Canon he had
  bought a second-hand book which he thought Dr. Taylor might find
  interesting.

  The Canon asked what the book was, and the Knight replied it was
  by a man called Locke, and was all about the Human Understanding.


  February 2.

  Char., Mytsie, and maid arrived; they had a perfectly frightful
  passage. All passengers shut down for two days, crockery broken,
  &c.

  S---- presented a large wedding cake for the Sunday tea of the
  Inner Brotherhood.


  February 11.

  This is the joyful day.[107] Your telegram was handed to me at
  lunch, so all the Inner Brotherhood had the benefit. The Canon
  said you ought to have used the comparative degree, so as to
  leave me an opportunity of returning the superlative.

  What a journey you had, poor dears! It does not seem so certain
  after all that we should be safe for comfort on a long voyage.
  Mytsie and Char. had a worse passage than you, the wind was dead
  against them all the way.

  It is indeed shocking about the Dean.[108] I heard it before you
  did. I will write to him by this mail.

  So glad you had such a good concert. If you only knew how I was
  longing to enjoy it with you....

  An adagio movement has now followed the allegro, and I am looking
  forward to a presto home as a finale.

  My news is not much. My cold was very bad from Saturday to
  Monday, but I slept most of the time straight on. If it were not
  for my eyes I should be almost as well as ever I was.

  I read Walter Hobhouse's child story, and Mrs. ---- capped it
  with another. A little girl she knew asked whether, when she
  got to heaven, she might 'have a little devil up to play with.'
  Mytsie's nephew, when three years old, had a much prettier idea.
  On M. telling him that something had happened before he was born,
  he said, 'Then that was when I was still in heaven.' 'Yes,'
  answered M., 'but what was heaven like?' 'Oh, there I played with
  angels, and there was nothing but Christmas trees.'

  Are not the debates first-rate? It seems to me I never read so
  many good speeches as those of Balfour, Bryce, and Chamberlain.
  But the measure itself is absurd.

  We had a party on board the 'Royal Sovereign' on Tuesday last.
  It was a dance on deck, and was very pretty. Enormous profusion
  of flags and flowers all over the ship. I asked one of the
  midshipmen to dine with us at the 'round table;' he had shown
  us over one of the ships on a previous day, as I told you, and
  proved an awfully nice little fellow, curiously like P. N.
  W.[109] Suffers always horribly from sea-sickness, and gave a
  dismal account of his life at sea.

  By the way, _à propos_ of the B.A. I suppose you have heard that
  Lord Salisbury is to be President next year at Oxford. You had
  better be thinking whom to invite as guests, leaving a margin in
  case ---- should redeem his promise. I shall meet him between
  this and then somewhere and ascertain.


  March 12.

  There has been a most extraordinary change in the weather. Up to
  yesterday we had three of the calmest days that have been since
  I came. The sea was without a ripple, and Char. and I were last
  night hoping it would be like that when we start, as it would be
  sure to last till we got home. When, lo and behold, this morning
  there is by far the highest wind and sea I have yet seen. The
  spray is flying right over the rocks, once up to where Fritz got
  over the wall by the bathing-place. Rain in sheets. The 'Drummond
  Castle' will have an awful time of it. No hope of a letter to-day.


  March 16.

  Letters, such jolly good gossip that I feel disposed to follow
  the example of the 'distinguished man' who lived apart from his
  wife because he so much enjoyed her letters. And yet I am like a
  hound straining at his leash to get away.

  I _cannot_ read what it is that York Powell is going to have
  designed for us, it looks like 'booky flash.'[110]

  ... By the time you get this, it will only be another fortnight
  before you get me, and I believe you will get me in a wonderfully
  restored state of health.


  March 17.

  The weather is still the same. Tremendous wind and perpetual
  squalls of rain, 'the sea and the waves roaring,' also 'men's
  hearts failing them for fear,' for the occupants of the rooms we
  used to have never went to bed last night.

  This morning an English man-of-war ran in for refuge, but had
  to run out again before the return salutes had been fired, as
  her anchors could not hold, and an odd accident happened. At the
  18-minute gun from the fort, one of the gunners somehow got in
  front of the cannon and was blown to atoms. I suppose they were
  all confused with the wind and the spray.

  The waterproof coat you sent me is in great requisition. Moreover
  it is a source of great amusement to the Inner Brotherhood,
  as Miss Taylor has discovered in it a close resemblance to a
  hassock--no, I mean a cassock. She wants me to get a round hat
  wherewith to 'cap' it when I return to Oxford. All the same, it
  is the best thing in the way of a waterproof that I have met as
  yet.


  March 19.

  I have got Weismann's new book, 'The Germ-Plasm.' It is a
  much more finished performance than the 'Essays.' In fact, he
  has evidently been consulting botanists, reading up English
  literature on the subject, so he has anticipated nearly all the
  points of my long criticisms. This is a nuisance.

  _Per contra_, since coming here I have heard of no less than
  three additional cases of cats which have lost their tails
  afterwards having tailless kittens. I wish to goodness I had been
  more energetic in getting on with my experiments about this, so
  I have written to John to get me twelve kittens to meet me on
  my return. It would be a grand thing to knock down W.'s whole
  edifice with a cat's tail.

  The monotony of life here is becoming intolerable. There is
  nothing to write about.

  You will have seen that Taine is dead. I was just about to write
  to him, to ask if he would be the Romanes lecturer.


  March 21.

  Here is an odd thing. I find that Weismann in his new book has
  discussed all the points raised by Spencer. So Spencer and I have
  been hammering away at things which W. has already written upon.
  Luckily, he says about what I anticipated he would say (see my
  article), but how absurd a fiasco! I have written a postscript
  to go by the mail, hoping it may arrive in time to be bound up
  as a separate slip before the issue of April number, explaining
  that absence from England prevented me from getting W.'s new book
  until now. But S. ought to have known.


  March 22.

  I have written to Weismann telling him that Bunting will send him
  a copy of the 'Cont. Review.'[111]

  I have asked W. if he will give the Romanes Lecture some year.
  Love to you and the chicks. You will have to tell me which is
  which of the boys.

  Unless he has already procured ordinary kittens, tell John[112]
  to get them either Angora or Persian. They will cost more, but
  will be much better.

  I had a long innings with the doctor to-day; he says I am
  perfectly sound; believes my headaches are all gastric.

  Your last letter just received is such a relief to me. I was just
  Ernest's age when I nearly died of whooping cough.


The home coming was very bright, and again Mr. Romanes set to work
with renewed and, alas, too great vigour. Beyond absolutely refusing
invitations to dine out at Oxford, and living as quietly as possible
at home, there was no keeping him in order. The following letters
show how irrepressible his spirits were whenever a day's health made
him hopeful again.


  _To Mrs. G. J. Romanes._

  Athenæum Club: May 10, 1893.

  I was very sorry that I could not get home to-day, and hope
  you will have received my telegram. Everybody was at the Royal
  Society except Balfour, and I became wearied with congratulations
  on my improved appearance. I met Moulton,[113] who was awfully
  nice, and wanted me to dine and sleep at his house some day if I
  can, in order to talk over 'physiological selection.'

  So I asked him to come and hear Huxley. He said he would try....
  Galton asked me to join in an investigation of the French
  calculating boy at his house to-day, so I did. Oliver Lodge was
  there. The boy was most marvellous.

  I am going to the Globe to-night and am very well. After the R.S.
  last night I went to a party at Lady Tenterden's. Very smart.

  Yours ever lovingly,
  GEORGE.


  _Journal: May._--Sir A. Clark is fairly encouraging. Dinner at
  Mrs. Pollock's; met the R. Palgraves and W. Flowers, who have
  blossomed out into K.C.B.'s since we left.

  _20th._--The Huxleys' visit has been most delightful. He was
  most genial and 'mellow,' and his lecture has, of course,
  aroused great interest. Various people to meet them. Mr. Gore
  and Professor Froude one day to lunch. Somewhat heterogeneous
  elements. When the former had gone, Mr. Huxley suddenly awakened
  to the fact that it was the Principal of the Pusey House whom he
  had met.

  Count and Countess Balzani have been here, and we had an
  'historical' dinner for them.


This was the last bit of the old pleasant life which Mr. Romanes had
so much enjoyed. He was busy arranging experiments on heliotropism
and on the power of germination in dry seeds after precautions had
been taken to prevent any ordinary processes of respiration, which
were worked up into a Royal Society paper. He writes:


  _To F. Darwin, Esq._

  St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 14.

  My dear Darwin,--There has been no hurry about answering my
  letter because I cannot publish until I shall have ascertained
  what has already been done upon the subject, and for this purpose
  I have had to write to Germany. I am greatly obliged to you for
  the substantial assistance which your letter has given me.

  My _modus operandi_ was to give nine different kinds of seeds to
  Crookes,[114] to place them in one of his 1/1000000 atmosphere
  vacuums for three months last year (viz. February, March, and
  April). He then left one set undisturbed, whilst the other eight
  sets were transferred to their respective gases (nine in number),
  where they remained sealed up for a year. On being planted last
  month they have all germinated even better than those from the
  control packets of seeds, which have been in air all the time.

  I should have thought beforehand that at any rate the seeds which
  have been in so high a vacuum for fifteen months would have had
  any residual air extracted. But I will now try for next year,
  peeling peas, beans, &c., as you suggest. Do you think it would
  be well also to soak the seeds for a few hours before sealing in
  Crookes' tubes?

  Do not trouble to answer by letter, as I am going to Cambridge on
  the 21st inst. for the day, and will then see you if I can find
  you at home.

  I am not exactly 'at work,' as I am not as yet well enough to
  attempt it at anything like ordinary pressure, but I am certainly
  better, and much obliged to you for your kind inquiries upon the
  subject.

  With our united kind regards to Mrs. Darwin and yourself,

  I remain, yours sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  P.S. My illness has left me half blind, so I write as much as
  possible by dictation. (What a bull!)


  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 15.

  My dear Dyer,--Many thanks for your letter with enclosures. The
  letter shows that ----'s opinion has not altered since I last saw
  him. As I think I told you at the Athenæum, he undertook some
  two or three years ago on my behalf to raise discussions in the
  papers, to which he alludes. Since that time he has sent me, I
  believe, copies of all the numberless letters which have been
  published in consequence. The result of our inquiry has been to
  confirm the opinion which he gave me at the first, and also to
  form my own in the same direction. (See my article in answer to
  Herbert Spencer in the 'Contemporary Review' for April.[115])

  As regards the isolation of species I do not understand why you
  should suppose that the facts of hybridisation to which you
  allude should in any way modify my 'belief.' As fully set forth
  in 'Physiological Selection,' what I maintain is that the origin
  of species is in _all_ cases due to isolation of _some kind_,
  but that only in the case of differential fertility can physo.
  sel. have been the kind of isolation at work. Therefore, it
  would be fatal to my views if all species were cross-sterile,
  because this would prove vastly too much. What the theory of
  phy. sel. requires is exactly what occurs, viz. cross-sterility
  between allied species in nearly all cases _where species have
  been differentiated on common areas_ or identical stations,
  and more or less complete cross-fertility where they have been
  differentiated on different (discontinuous) areas, or else
  prevented from intercrossing by yet some other means of isolation.

  I have collected a quantity of evidence in favour of both these
  otherwise inexplicable correlations. But I should like to know
  the species of wild fowl which you have found to be hybridisable
  or cross-fertile, so that I may ascertain whether their natural
  breeding areas are, or are not, identical. Of course I should
  expect them not to be.

  I have been told to save my eyes as much as possible, and
  therefore conduct most of my correspondence by dictation. But not
  being used to this process, I find it even more difficult than
  before to express my meaning with clearness, so I will tackle
  with my own hand what you say about Aquilegias.

  I have looked up the group, and find that, with the exception
  of vulgaris (common columbine), all the European species seem
  to occupy restricted areas, or else well-isolated stations.
  Also, that the same seems to apply as a very general rule to
  other species all over the world, for, wherever mountains are
  concerned, stations are apt to be isolated by difference of
  altitude, &c.

  Now if such be the case with the group in question, the fact
  of its constituent species being freely hybridisable when
  artificially brought together is exactly what my theory requires.
  For the specific differentiation has presumably been effected by
  geographical (or topographical) isolation, without physiological
  having had anything to do with it. In fact, as stated over and
  over again in my original paper, _this_ correlation between
  geographical isolation and cross-fertility is _one_ of my lines
  of verification, the _other_ line being the correlation between
  identical stations and cross-sterility.

  Now, as above stated, I have found both these correlations to
  obtain in a surprisingly general manner.

  I wish that, instead of perpetually misunderstanding the theory,
  you English botanists would help me by pointing out _exceptions_
  to these two rules, so that I might specially investigate them.
  It seems to me that the group you name goes to corroborate the
  first of them, while all Jordan's work, for instance, uniformly
  bears out the second. And whatever may be thought about him in
  other respects, I am not aware that anyone has ever refuted his
  observations and experiments so far as I am concerned with them.

  Yours ever sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 22.

  Dear Dyer,--I received a letter from ---- by the same post
  that brought yours of the 19th inst. From it I gather that
  his opinion on the subject of telegony has not changed in any
  material respect since our inquiry began. His opinion has always
  been such as you now quote ('atavism' on the one hand, with a
  small minority of 'dormant fertilisation' cases on the other).
  His has likewise always been my own view (with the addition
  of coincidence), and has been corroborated by the result of
  these inquiries. So I think we are all three pretty well in
  agreement, because both ---- and myself share in your doubts
  as to the minority of the cases being really due to dormant
  fertilisation--_i.e._ not to be ascribed to coincidence or
  mal-observation. Also, as I said before, I quite agree with
  you that 'neither view is any help to Herbert Spencer.' In
  fact, I have somewhat elaborately sought to prove this in my
  'Contemporary Review' article for April, and have been in private
  correspondence with him ever since, but without getting any
  'forerder.'

  But in this connection I should like to know whether you have
  any opinion upon the apparently analogous class of phenomena
  in plants which Darwin gives in the eleventh chapter of his
  'Variation,' &c. Here, it seems to me, the evidence is much more
  cogent and of far more importance to the issue, Weismann _v._
  Lamarck. Focke and Dr. Vris, however, seem to doubt the facts
  or their interpretation, although, as it seems to me, without
  presenting any adequate reasons for doing so. You need not bother
  with Dr. Vris, as he merely follows Focke, but I wish you would
  read Focke ('Die Pflanzen-Mischlinge,' p. 510, _et sq._), and
  compare what he says with the evidence which Darwin presents.

  As I do not know in what respects you have found one part of
  my previous letter not to 'tally' with another, I cannot fully
  explain it; but I fancy that you will find they do, if, in
  reading the letter, you carry in your mind the simple proposition
  that, from the nature of the case, there can be no physiological
  selection except where differentiating varieties ('incipient
  species') occur upon common areas and identical stations. I do
  not see any difficulty about willows, roses, brambles, &c., since
  Naudin's researches on _Datura_ have shown how much variability,
  due to the hybridisation of any two species, may give rise to
  the _appearance_ of there being many species. This, you will
  remember, is the view that Naudin himself takes with regard to
  willows &c.--although, of course, without any reference to phy.
  sel. If you will refer to p. 405 of the paper on phy. sel. you
  will find that from the first I have been aware of the difficulty
  about discontinuous areas to which you allude. But I think the
  converse line of evidence (viz. that of cross-sterility between
  incipient species on identical stations) will alone prove
  sufficient to verify the theory. At the same time I look for more
  corroboration from the cross-fertility of well differentiated
  species upon discontinuous areas where these are, as you say,
  oceanic islands, or, still better, mountainous districts where
  the allied species are severally peculiar to mountain tops and
  isolated valleys. For in these cases there must be much doubt, as
  a general rule, touching the species having been differentiated
  by topographical isolation upon the particular areas where they
  are now found. Moreover, and this I think quite as important,
  the consideration which Darwin adduces in another connection is
  obviated, viz. 'that if a species was rendered sterile with some
  one compatriot, sterility with other species would follow as a
  necessary contingency.'

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--From your first letter it would almost seem that you had
  supposed me to doubt the fact (or, at any rate, the frequency)
  of cross-fertility in general. And this after I had written the
  article on 'Hybridisation' in the 'Ency. Brit.'!


In June Mr. Romanes took a small house for the summer months outside
Oxford at Boar's Hill, a district well known to Oxford people, and it
was hoped country air and quiet might do him much good.

He was rather headachy, and liked to lie on the grass in the garden
and have novels read to him, but he was able to go up to London one
day, and even planned to take a journey to Wiesbaden in order to
consult an eminent oculist.

But on July 11 he was stricken down by hemiplegia. And now began
the last year of patient endurance, for from that time the Shadow
of Death was ever on him, and he knew it; from that July day he
regarded himself as doomed. Sometimes the thought of leaving those
whom he loved with such intense devotion, such wonderful tenderness,
overwhelmed him; sometimes the longing to finish his work was too
great to be borne, but generally he was calm, and always, even when
he was most sad, he was gentle and patient, and willing to be amused.

On July 13 Dr. Paget gave him the Holy Communion.

He slowly recovered from this attack, and there were hopes--not
of perfect health, but of life, and of power to work. Now, more
resolutely than ever, he set himself to face the ultimate problems of
Life and Being, to face the question of the possibility of a return
to Faith.

It is impossible here to tell of the inner workings of that pure and
unselfish soul, of those longings and searchings after God, of the
gradual growth in steadfast endurance, in faith.

To one or two these are known, and the example of lofty patience and
of single-heartedness is not one they are likely to forget. Of this
more later.

It was almost pathetic to see how keen and vigorous his intellect
was. In fact, the great difficulty was to keep the busy brain
from thinking. Novels helped to some degree, and occasional visits
from friends as he grew better. Dr. and Mrs. Burdon Sanderson,
the President of Trinity and Mrs. Woods, the Dean, Mr. Gore, the
President of Magdalen and Mrs. Warren, and Mr. Waggett, all helped,
coming and paying brief visits, which did him good, for if he was
not listening to reading or conversation, he would be planning
experiments or pondering problems of theology, and ask by-and-by that
his thoughts should be taken down from dictation, or that paper and
pencil should be given him, or, worse than all, devising arrangements
for finishing 'Darwin, and after Darwin.' He dictated some 'Thoughts
on Things' in the very first days of his illness, and sent for
Professor Lloyd Morgan, who came and received instructions about
the unfinished books, instructions which he has carried out with
unflagging diligence and never-failing kindness.

But still he grew better, and early in August he went back to Oxford,
and by the first of September he was able to be present in the
cathedral at the baptism by Dr. Talbot of his youngest son.

The fact that the Vicar of Leeds[116] and Mrs. Talbot were in Oxford
during that August was a great pleasure to him, and he much enjoyed
occasional talks with Dr. Talbot.


  _To Professor Ewart._

  I do not know what account E. gave you of my illness, but it is
  much too serious an affair to admit of our going to the British
  Association. Indeed, I hardly anticipate being able to make any
  engagements or do much work during the rest of my life, which
  is not likely to be a long one. It is just such an attack as I
  expected when walking with you over Magdalen Bridge.[117]

  Yours ever,
  G. J. ROMANES.


By September he was able to listen to, and discuss, Dr. Sanderson's
Presidential Address, which was delivered in Nottingham at the
British Association of 1893.

It was one of the great disappointments of that illness that he could
not go to Nottingham. To be at the Association when his dear friend
and master was president was a great wish of his, and early in the
summer a kind invitation from Lady Laura Ridding, to stay with the
Bishop of Southwell and herself for it, had been accepted.

Nottingham and a visit to Denton, to which Mr. Romanes had been
looking forward, had to be given up.

These things were real trials. It was not the giving up particular
bits of pleasure, but the realisation that he was too much of an
invalid to do anything of the sort, which he found so hard to bear,
and which he did bear with ever-increasing patience.

His letters sometimes show how hard he felt his trial.


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  Oxford: September 4.

  My dearest James,--I have had two reasons for not writing to
  Dunskaith since my letter about the birth of Edmund.

  I agree with all you say about Fritz and her numerous brothers,
  the last two of whom you have never seen. But, although I have
  been so signally blest in my family ... I am not disposed to fall
  in with your optimism in other respects. Rather am I disposed to
  agree with the Scotch minister, that 'Man is a mi-ser-able worrm,
  craaling upon the airth;' for, both as regards the misery and the
  craaling I am now a type.

  And this brings me to my two reasons for not writing before. The
  first is, that I am almost unable to write; and the second is,
  that I did not want to let you and Charlotte know all the facts
  sooner than I could help.

  The long and the short of it is that I believe I am dying. I have
  been gradually getting worse and worse, ... nor shall I be sorry
  when it comes. Such being the case, I should like to consult you
  about setting my house in order....

  The photos which the children brought with them of Dunskaith
  make me realise what splendid work the buildings are, and even
  although it is now improbable that I shall ever see them, I am
  glad to think that they will be in the family.[118]

  I cannot write more now. In fact I have not written so much since
  my attack. But I send you the best love of a life-time's growth
  and that of your only brother,

  GEORGE.


  _To W. T. Thiselton-Dyer, Esq._

  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: September 15, 1893.

  Dear Dyer,--Many thanks for your letter with enclosures. As you
  say, there does not seem to be anything remarkable about the
  hybrid; but I am glad to see that both its parent species are
  well marked and presumably both of mountain origin. The case thus
  well accords with my views, as explained in my previous letters.
  I met with many such (_i.e._ hybrids between originally isolated
  species) in Madeira and the Canaries.

  There are none so blind as those who will not see. Where can
  your powers of 'observation' have been when you can still remark
  that I ignore the facts of hybridisation? I can only repeat
  that from the first I have regarded them as evidence of the
  utmost importance as establishing a highly general correlation
  between _separate_ origin of allied species and _absence_ of
  cross-sterility. In fact, for the last five years I have had
  experiments going on in my Alpine garden, which I helped in
  founding for the very purpose of inquiring into this matter. And
  Focke, with whom I have been in correspondence from the first,
  and who _does_ understand the theory, writes that in his opinion
  it will 'solve the whole mystery' of natural hybridisation in
  relation to artificial.

  Since my last letter to you I have been at death's door. On July
  11, I was struck down by paralysis of the left side, and am now
  a wreck. Not the least of my sorrow is that I fear I shall have
  to leave the verification of phys. sel. to other hands in larger
  measure than I had hoped. I have little doubt that it will
  eventually prevail; but more time will probably be needed before
  it does.

  Yours very sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  Oxford: September 18, 1893.

  Dear Dyer,--I am not a little touched by the kind sympathy
  expressed in your letter of the 16th. When one is descending
  into the dark valley, scientific squabbles seem to fade away
  in those elementary principles of good will which bind mankind
  together. And I am glad to think that in all the large circle of
  my friends and correspondents there is no vestige of ill will in
  any quarter, unless it be with ---- and ----, who both seem to me
  half-crazy in their enmity, and therefore not of much count.

  As for 'fortitude,' sooner or later the night must come for all
  of us; and if my daylight is being suddenly eclipsed, there is
  only the more need to work while it lasts. But, to tell the
  truth, I do not on this account feel less keenly the pity of it.
  With five boys--the eldest not yet in his teens and the youngest
  still in his weeks; with piles of note-books which nobody else
  can utilise, and heaps of experimental researches in project
  which nobody else is likely to undertake, I do bitterly feel that
  my lot is a hard one.

  Looking all the facts in the face, I do not expect ever to see
  another birthday,[119] and therefore, like Job, am disposed to
  curse my first one. For I know that all my best work was to have
  been published in the next ten or fifteen years; and it is
  wretched to think of how much labour in the past will thus be
  wasted.

  However, I do not write to constitute you my confessor, but to
  thank you for your letter, and also to say that I am sending you
  a copy of my 'Examination of Weismannism,' just published by
  Longmans.

  With our united kind regards to Mrs. Dyer and yourself, I remain,
  yours very sincerely,

  GEO. J. ROMANES.


  94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: September 26, 1893.

  My dear Dyer,--This is one of my bad days, and I have just
  exhausted my little store of energy by answering a kind letter
  from Huxley. So please excuse brevity, as I cannot leave your
  highly appreciated benevolence without an immediate response.

  I am much concerned to hear what you say about yourself, and it
  makes me doubly desirous of seeing you. On Monday next I am to
  try to go to town for the purpose of consulting doctors. But any
  day before that we should be truly glad if you could come as
  you so kindly propose. _Possibly_ I might be able to drive out
  to Kew on Tuesday or Wednesday of next week, should you find it
  impracticable to run down here before then. But I fluctuate so
  much from day to day that I cannot make any engagements.

  Most fully do I agree with all that you say regarding criticism.
  And, especially from yourself, I have never met with any but the
  fairest. Even the spice of it was never bitter, or such as could
  injure the gustatory nerves of the most thin-skinned of men. I
  have, indeed, often wondered how you and ---- and ---- can have
  so persistently misunderstood my ideas, seeing that neither on
  the Continent nor in America has there been any difficulty in
  making myself intelligible. But this, of course, is quite another
  matter.

  As regards Weismannism, I do not include under this term the
  question of the inheritance of acquired characters. That has been
  a question for me since the publication of Galton's 'theory of
  heredity' in 1875. Indeed, even before that, everybody knew the
  contrast between congenital and acquired characters in respect
  of heritability; and you may remember, the first time we met you
  gave me a lot of good advice regarding my experiments on this
  subject.

  Please remember both of us very kindly to your wife when you
  write to her, and with our united best wishes to yourself,

  Believe me, ever yours sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  _To Francis Darwin, Esq._

  St. Aldate's, Oxford: October 8, 1893.

  My dear Darwin,--Your very kind letter has been one ray of light
  to me in my gloom. Yet you must not think it is the only one.

       *       *       *       *       *

  It is comparatively easy to set our teeth and face the inevitable
  with 'a grin;' but the 'highest bravery' is to hide our anguish
  with a smile. I do think I make a decently good Stoic, but
  confess that in times like this Christians have the pull.
  Nevertheless, I have often thought of the words, 'I am not
  in the least afraid to die,'[120] and wondered, when my time
  should come, I would be able to say them. But now I know that
  I can, and this even in the bitterness of feeling that one's
  work is prematurely cut short.... 'Somewhat too much of this,'
  however. What I want to tell you is that I managed to get to
  London on Friday for the purpose of consulting my doctors as to
  my prospects. They take a more hopeful view than I expected,
  _i.e._ notwithstanding that I have had three attacks in one year
  (in both eyes and now in the brain), it is not _inevitable_
  that I should have another for years to come, provided that I
  become a strict teetotaller, vegetarian, hermit, and abstainer
  from work. In short, 'that my rule of life,' 'the exemplar' for
  my 'imitation,' is to be that of a tortoise. Hence it does not
  appear that there is any immediate necessity for saying farewell
  to my friends, and hence also I will not bother you by falling in
  with your kind proposal to come over from Cambridge to see me,
  much as I should like to see you in any case. But if you would
  care to pay a visit to Oxford any time between this and to-morrow
  week (16th), when I shall start for the vicinity of Nice, we
  should both be awfully glad to put you up. I think Dyer will
  probably be with us from Saturday to Monday (14 to 16).

  With our united very kind regards to all,

  Yours ever sincerely,
  G. J. ROMANES.


Then came the journey to Costebelle, which he describes as follows:


  _To James Romanes, Esq._

  Hôtel l'Ermitage, Costebelle: November 4, 1893.

  My dearest James,--I ought to have answered long ago the kind
  letter which I received from you just as I was driving to the
  Oxford station, and read in the train. But I am still such a
  wretched invalid that I shrink from the smallest exertion,
  whether of body or mind. I caught a violent cold in crossing
  the Channel, which kept me in bed for three days at Amiens,
  and left me so weak that I had to further break the journey at
  Paris, Lyons, and Marseilles--finally arriving here with a still
  feverish temperature. But this has now subsided.

  We found not only Paris but quite as much Lyons and Marseilles in
  a state of delirium over the Russian fleet officers, with whom
  we were muddled up all the way, greatly to our inconvenience.
  This was especially the case on leaving Lyons, where the railway
  officials, after having put our luggage (containing our circular
  notes) in the railway station, locked the doors of the latter
  in our faces, when the police and military officials hurried us
  down the hill again in the town (in the rudest of ways) till
  the arrival of the Russians nearly an hour after our train was
  timed to depart. We had no doubt that our hand baggage had all
  been carried off in our railway carriage without us and without
  labels; but on at last getting into the station found that our
  train had not started.

  This is one of the most charming places I have ever seen. The
  hotel is situated on the top of a hill which slopes for a mile to
  the sea, and which is thickly clothed with pine and olive woods
  in all directions. The climate admits of our sitting out of doors
  without overcoats or shawls till sunset, amid the most wonderful
  profusion of aromas I have ever met with.


  _To the Dean of Christ Church._

  Costebelle: November 28, 1893.

  My dear Dean,--In the firmament of my friendships there is no
  such star as yourself, and I find it belongs to them all that the
  darker and the colder the night becomes, the more brightly do
  they shine.

  It is quite certain that 'the South has not yet rendered its
  full service,' inasmuch as it has not rendered me any service at
  all. If anything I am worse than when I left Oxford. My muscular
  power, indeed, has somewhat improved, but my nervous exhaustion
  seems to be growing upon me, week by week; so that I am now able
  to walk but very little--to hope, not much, to think, not at all.

  The truth is that my ailment, whatever it is, is not to be
  reached by climatic influences: it belongs to those mysterious
  internal changes, which Darwin ascribes to what he calls 'the
  nature of the organism'--'variations which to our ignorance
  appear to arise spontaneously.' Hence, I am out of harmony with
  my environment, whatever the environment may be. And, as this
  Spencerianism applies to my spiritual, no less than to my bodily
  organisation, it would seem that somehow or other I have been
  born into a wrong world--like those poor Porto Santo rabbits,
  which I took home with me last year, and the history of which
  I think I told you. However, I do not intend to grumble at the
  visible universe until I shall have had an opportunity of looking
  round the edge and seeing what is behind.

  Most of our time is spent in sheer idleness, or rather, I should
  say, _all_ of my time, and that proportion of my wife's which
  is spent in reading to me--chiefly novels, poetry, and history.
  Yesterday, we had Coppée's play 'Le Pater,' which I know you have
  read. For the length of it, I think it is as powerful a piece of
  dramatic writing as I have ever read.

  Very few worries find their way to L'Ermitage. The worst at
  present is the choice of the next 'Romanes Lecturer.' Owing to
  his accident, Helmholtz has blocked the way for the last two
  months, but now promises a final reply in the course of a few
  days. If he does come, I hope the University will give him the
  D.C.L.

  With our united kindest regards to Mrs. Paget, whose messages to
  me are of more benefit than all my doctor's drugs (now that is a
  thing I 'would rather have expressed otherwise'!) and yourself,

  I remain, ever your affectionate friend,
  G. J. ROMANES.


For a while all went well, he liked the place, and was able to work
a little, and to have many books read to him. He had taken out Dr.
Martineau's 'Study of Religion,' and other philosophical books, and
he also plunged into poetry, reading Wordsworth chiefly.

In December came what seemed to be a severe gastric attack, with
other alarming symptoms, and for a few hours he seemed to be dying.
But this passed off, and although he was kept in bed for three weeks
he grew better, and in some ways there seemed grounds for fresh hope.

For a few days in January he was under the care of a cousin with two
trained nurses, and his letters home were surprisingly bright.

His wife's maid, of whom he was very fond, was terribly ill in
January, and he writes:


  Give Jane my love, and tell her I never forget how good she was
  to me when I thought I was dying in her arms at Boar's Hill.


And again he wrote:


  So glad to hear the operation has been successful. Congratulate
  her from me. Tell her I heartily wish I were in her place as to
  this, but that nevertheless I have not 'lost heart.' I am now
  certainly stronger, and if I could only submit my cranial cavity
  to Tom's[121] hands for removal of anything disagreeable, I
  should be comparatively joyful.

  The weather is glorious. Marian is at mass, having read me one of
  Church's sermons.

  Please tell John to send me a couple of hundred cigarettes (to
  prevent influenza!).

  When you come out you will not find me a kill-joy; the danger
  will rather be that of my scandalising you all by riotous conduct
  on Sunday.


And certainly he was astonishingly bright when his wife returned
to him. It was on a Sunday afternoon, and his first proposition
was, 'The church bell is tinkling, let's go to church.' It was the
twenty-eighth of January, and the brightness and gladness of two
of the Evening Psalms were oddly appropriate, and chimed in with
feelings of a greater gladness dawning on him, for he was leaving the
strange land in which for years he had not been able to sing 'The
Lord's Song.'

And then began a time, often saddened by hours of intense physical
exhaustion and physical depression, but also of what can only be
called growth in holiness, in all that comes from nearness to God.

In the early autumn and winter there had been sad moments when
still the clouds of darkness, of inability to grasp the Hand of God
stretched out to meet him, hung over him, but in these months there
had been the same growth.

One to whom he often spoke of the deepest things of life and of
death will never forget his saying one day just after the attack of
illness in December: 'I have come to see that cleverness, success,
attainment, count for little; that goodness, or, as F. (naming a dear
friend) would say, "_character_," is the important factor in life.'

For in early days Mr. Romanes had attached, so it seemed to some
of those who knew him best, an undue importance to intellect, to
cleverness, to intelligence, and the same person to whom he said the
few words just quoted had often discussed with him the relative value
of goodness and of intellect.

By goodness is meant perfect and complete goodness, not such as that
of which it has been said, 'It is the business of the wise to rectify
the mistakes of the good.'

And as weeks passed on he would often plan a country house and a
life in which 'good works' were to have a share.

He had always had a high ideal of what Love and Faith should bring
about, and in the last months of his life he said to one whom he
dearly loved, 'Darling, if you believe what you say you believe, why
should you mind so much?' With absolute resignation he gave up all
his ambitions, the old longing for distinction, for greater fame, and
yet he did not lose for one moment the old interest in his scientific
work.

Two papers of his were read at the Royal Society in October 1892. The
first described experiments undertaken by Mr. Romanes, the primary
object of which was to ascertain whether seeds which had been kept
out of contact with air for a lengthy period of time still possessed
the power of germination. The method adopted was as follows: a
certain number of seeds were taken from each packet, mustard, cress,
beans, peas, &c., being the kinds employed, and having been weighed
in a chemical balance were sealed up in tubes which had previously
been exhausted of air, and kept exposed to the vacuum for a period
of fifteen months. At the end of that time they were removed from
the tubes and sown in flower-pots buried in moist soil. In some
cases, after the seeds had been in the vacuum tubes for three months,
they were transferred to other tubes charged with pure gases, such
as oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon monoxide, or with aqueous or
chloroform vapour, and there kept for a further period of twelve
months, when they were sown as before.

In all cases the same number of seeds, of similar weights to those
sealed up in the tubes, were taken from each packet, kept in ordinary
air for the fifteen months, and then sown as control experiments.

The results clearly showed that the germinating power of the seeds
was hardly, if at all, affected either by being exposed to the vacuum
or to the atmospheres of the various gases and vapours. Further, in
no single case, in the hundreds of seeds so treated, did the plants
produced from them differ from the standard types grown from the
control seeds even in the smallest degree.

The second paper described experiments in heliotropism, which had
been undertaken by Mr. Romanes with the object of ascertaining
whether plants would bend towards a light that is not continuous, but
intermittent.

Mustard seedlings, grown in the dark until they were about one or
two inches high, were used in all the experiments; they were either
placed in a dark room and exposed to flashes of light in the form of
electric sparks passed at regular intervals, or they were put in a
camera obscura, before which was placed a Swan burner or arc lamp,
the light from which was rendered intermittent by the regular opening
and shutting of the photographic shutter. The heliotropic effect on
the seedlings was found in all cases to be very marked, the most
vigorous ones beginning to bend towards the light ten minutes after
the flashing began, bending through 45° in as many minutes, and often
through another 45° in as many minutes more. By protecting half of
the seedlings from the interrupted light, by means of a cardboard
cap, then after the experiment uncovering them and exposing that half
for the same duration of time to constant sunlight, Mr. Romanes found
that the bending was less in this latter case, that is, when the
light was continuous. This result was confirmed by placing two sets
of plants under exactly similar conditions before a Swan burner, the
light from which was constant for one set of seedlings, and rendered
intermittent for the other set by working the flash shutter; in all
cases the interrupted light caused the plants to start bending more
quickly, and through a greater angle in a given time.

As regards the rate the flashes must succeed one another to produce
this heliotropic effect, Mr. Romanes found that sparks passed at the
rate of fifty in an hour would cause considerable bending in half an
hour. It is of interest to note that in no single case was there any
green colouring matter produced, the seedlings remaining colourless
even when the sparks were passed at the rate of 100 per second
continuously during forty-eight hours.

Dr. Sanderson writes:


  Friday, November 17.

  My dear Romanes,--There was a rather interesting discussion
  at the R.S. on your paper about the fresh experiments with
  seedlings. It was objected that there was no evidence that the
  effects were not due to one-sided drying of the stems of the
  seedlings, and ---- wanted to know whether sufficient precautions
  were taken to guard against this. I suppose that he meant heat
  effects. I said that, under the conditions of this experiment, I
  could not see how any 'drying effect' could possibly take place.

  My suggestion is that it would be worth while to add a note, if
  you think of the impossibility of any effect, excepting a light
  effect, being concerned. I asked Foster just now, and he agreed
  with me that it would be useful. I ought to add that it was
  admitted that the observation was a new one which promised to
  have very important bearings.

  I am writing this in great haste. I trust that you are enjoying
  Costebelle.

  Very truly yours,
  T. BURDON SANDERSON.


At this time Mr. Romanes had a very interesting correspondence with
the Rev. G. Henslow, on the subject of the direct action of the
environment on plant structures.


  Ealing: October 19, 1893.

  Dear Mr. Romanes,--If you are in town on November 16, I should
  be very glad indeed if you could come to the Linnean Society,
  and criticise my paper which I am going to read: 'On the origin
  of plant structures by self-adaptation to the environment,
  exemplified by desert and xerophyllous plants.'


In this and in subsequent letters Mr. Henslow explained the
subject-matter of his paper, and as it formed the basis of the
correspondence, a brief analysis, furnished by Mr. Henslow in a later
letter, is here inserted.


  The object of the paper is to show that the origin of varieties
  and species--as far as the vegetative organs are concerned--is
  solely due to climatic causes. For the acquired (somatic)
  characters become more or less hereditary if the same environment
  be maintained. But plants possess every degree in their
  capacities either of _reverting_, _changing_, or of _stability_.

  The result is that I do not see any necessity for natural
  selection at all in Nature, for the following reasons.

  Variations are often _indefinite_ in cultivation, especially
  after several years. Therefore to secure a useful race
  _artificial selection_ is necessary. On the other hand,
  _variation_ is _definite_ in Nature, _all_ the seedlings varying
  in one and the same direction, _i.e._ towards equilibrium with
  the environmental forces. Darwin knew of this fact, and you have
  abundantly described it. _But Darwin failed to see that this
  definite variation in Nature is the rule, and not the exception._
  Hence, as he admits, natural selection is not wanted at all
  [_i.e._ _if_ all variations are definite in Nature].

  Moreover, it is contended that climatic variations are of no
  great, even of any useful importance. This may be so, for all
  I know, with animals; but it is _precisely the reverse with
  plants_. I took my illustrations from desert plants, and showed
  that their remarkable characteristics, which give the _facies_
  to desert plants, are on the one hand the direct results of
  the excessive drought, heat, light, &c. On the other, they are
  just those features which enable the plants to live under their
  extremely inhospitable environment. These characters are the
  minute leaves, hardening of woody tissues, thick cuticle, dense
  clothing of hair, wax, storage of water tissues, &c.; so that the
  whole economy of the plant, including its specific characters,
  is _all_ climatically acquired. Although some may vary when the
  plants are grown in ordinary gardens, such is no more than one
  would expect on _a priori_ grounds to be the case.

  I would limit natural selection, as far as plants are concerned,
  to _three_ things:

  1. Mortality among seedlings with the survival of the _strongest_.

  I do not say 'fittest,' because it is ordinarily understood to
  mean that the survivors have some _morphological features_, by
  which they are benefited, which lead on finally to specific
  characters.

  I do not find this to be the case. Take an instance of great
  contrast. Sow 100 seeds of the water (submerged) _Ranunculus
  fluitans_ in a garden. They _all_ grow up as _aërial_ plants,
  _i.e._ they vary as they grow precisely in the same way. It is
  only the _weakest_ (from badly nourished seeds) which get crowded
  out of existence. Here, then, is _definite variation without the
  aid of natural selection_. _Ex uno disce omnes._

  2. _Delimitation of varieties and species_ by the
  _non-reproduction_ of intermediate forms.

  It is generally said that if 'good species' are isolated, the
  intermediate forms have been killed off by natural selection.
  I maintain that they were _never reproduced_. Thus if A has
  passed by successive generations, A′, A″, A‴, &c., to A^n; A and
  A^n being now only in existence, then A′, A″, &c., represented
  a _single generation_ apiece, each offspring being one degree
  nearer to A^n, but could never be reproduced, as the environment
  was continually acting upon the whole series, urging each
  generation forwards till it became stable in A^n.

  This is precisely what takes place in cultivating a wild plant
  like the parsnip. Each year the grower selects a slightly
  improved form, till the required type is fixed. The 'Student'
  is now A^n, a more or less permanently fixed form, each of
  the intermediate forms, lasting one year, having ceased to be
  reproduced.

  3. The geographical distribution of varieties and species by
  _self-adaptation_.

  That is, if a number of plants migrate to a new locality with
  new environmental conditions, half of them may die; because
  they cannot adapt themselves; the other half may live--change,
  and become fixed forms, by their power of adaptation. The final
  conclusion of the whole is that plants require nothing more than
  climatic influences, to which their protoplasm may respond. The
  result is new varietal or specific characters. Then, if the
  same environment lasts, these become gradually more and more
  fixed and hereditary, but one can never tell beforehand but
  that the oldest plant in creation may not change again as soon
  as it finds a new environment.... This is what a long study of
  plants and experiments has led me to; and it is not a conclusion
  arrived at solely by 'thinking out' or evolving from my own
  consciousness--like the German camel!

  Hoping you are progressing,

  Believe me, yours sincerely,
  GEORGE HENSLOW.


  Hôtel l'Ermitage, Costebelle, Hyères, France: October 29, 1893.

  Dear Mr. Henslow,--You will correctly infer from this address
  that I shall not be able to attend the Linnean Society meeting on
  the 16th prox. For two or three years past my health has been
  breaking up, and several months ago I had a stroke of paralysis.
  So I have had to knock off all work, and have just arrived here
  to spend the winter--finding your letter, forwarded from Oxford,
  awaiting me.

  It has interested me very much, and some time I should like to
  see the paper to which it refers, whether in MS. or print. As far
  as I can gather, you are spontaneously following in the footsteps
  of Asa Gray, Nägeli, and some other botanists. But, it seems to
  me, this self-adaptation doctrine is equivalent to an _a priori_
  abandoning of all hope to obtain any naturalistic explanation
  of the phenomena in question. It simply refers the facts of
  adaptation immediately to some theory of design, and so brings us
  back again to Paley, Bell, and Chalmers. As when a child asks why
  a flower closes at night, and we answer him: Because God has made
  it so, my dear. _C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la science._

  But do not mistake me. My quarrel is with the term
  self-adaptation, which seems to imply causes of a
  non-naturalistic kind. Which, of course, is quite a different
  thing from doubting whether the naturalistic explanation given
  by Darwin is adequate to meet all the facts. I am myself more
  and more given to question 'the all-sufficiency of natural
  selection,' and this, whether or not use-inheritance is one of
  the supplementary factors. But that there are some hitherto
  undiscovered factors of this kind where many of the phenomena
  of adaptation are concerned, I am more and more disposed to
  suspect. Nevertheless I believe, in the light of analogy, that
  they will all prove to be natural causes, and therefore not
  correctly definable as due to 'self-adaptation.'

  My hemiplegia has given me a terrible shake, so I cannot write
  much. Indeed, this is the longest of the few letters which I have
  written since my attack. So please excuse seeming bluntness, and
  believe me to remain,

  Ever yours, very truly and most interestedly,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--Of course you would not in any case expect to find so much
  variability of the _conspicuously indefinite_ kind in nature as
  in cultivation. For, by hypothesis, natural selection is present
  in the one case (to destroy useless variations) while absent in
  the other. But I allow this does not apply to the examples you
  give me. Only remember the point in publishing your paper.


  Hôtel Costebelle, Hyères: February 10, 1894.

  Dear Mr. Henslow,--I am much indebted to you for all your most
  interesting letters, and also for prospect of receiving your
  books. Although forbidden to write letters myself, or to think
  about anything as yet, I must send a few lines, pending arrival
  of the books and papers, giving my general impression of your
  views as set out in your correspondence.

  Briefly, it seems to me that your argument is perfectly clear
  up to a certain point, but then suddenly becomes a _petitio
  principii_. In other words, so far as your view is critical
  of natural selection considered as a _hypothetical cause_
  of adaptive evolution, I can well believe you have adduced
  a formidable array of facts. But I fail to follow, when
  you pass on to the constructive part of your case--or your
  suggested substitute for natural selection in self-adaptation.
  For self-adaptation, I understand, consists in results of
  _immediate response to stimuli supplied by environment_. But,
  if so, surely the statement that all the adaptive machinery of
  plant-organisation is due to self-adaptation is a mere begging of
  the question _against_ natural selection _unless it can be shown
  how self-adaptation works in each case_. Now I do not find any
  suggestion as to this. And yet this is obviously the essential
  point; since, _unless it can be shown how self-adaptation
  works_--_i.e._ that it is a _vera causa_, and not a mere word
  serving to re-state the facts of adaptive evolution. We have got
  no further in the way of _explanation_ than the physician, who
  said, that the reason why morphia produces sleep is because it
  possesses a soporific quality.

  Observe, I purposely abstain from considering your criticism
  of natural selection, which, although perfectly lucid and
  possibly justifiable, yet certainly does admit of the answer
  that incipient variations of a _fortuitous_ kind under nature
  _may_ often be inconspicuous (while Wallace shows that in
  animals they are, as a matter of fact, usually considerable).
  But we need not go into this. The interesting point to all of
  us must be the constructive part of your work; and I have
  tried to explain _my_ difficulty with regard to it. _Why should
  protoplasm be able to adapt itself_ into the millions of diverse
  mechanisms of nature by converse with environment? The theory of
  natural selection gives a logically possible, even if it be a
  biologically inadequate answer. But I cannot see that the theory
  of self-adaptation does, _unless it can be shown that there is
  some sufficient reason why_, say a _direct-environment should
  produce self-adaptation_ in the direction of hairs, a marine one
  in that of fleshiness, &c. &c.

  I have been very frank, because I know you, and therefore that
  this is what you would prefer. But I am too ill to make myself
  clear in a letter. I wish you could stop here for a day on your
  way home, by which time I shall probably have read your books,
  and we might discuss the whole business before I publish mine on
  the Post-Darwinian Theories.

  With very many thanks,

  I remain yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.


  Hôtel Costebelle, Hyères: February 24, 1894.

  Dear Mr. Henslow,--Nothing can be more clear than are all your
  letters, and the last one, I take it, sets at rest the only
  question which I had to ask. For it expressly answers that, in
  your own view, hypothesis of 'self-adaptation' is a _statement_
  rather than an _explanation_ of the facts. Nevertheless, it
  is also to some certain extent advanced as an explanation on
  Lamarckian lines, for in your books (for which I much thank
  you) you attribute adaptive mechanism in flowers to thrusts,
  strains &c. caused by insects. But here, if I may say so, it
  does not seem to me that you sufficiently deal with an obvious
  criticism, viz. How is it so much as conceivable that protoplasm
  should always respond to insect irritation adaptively, when
  we look to the endless variety and often great elaboration of
  the mechanism? Similarly as regards the inorganic environment,
  Lamarck's hypothesis of _use_-inheritance (_i.e._ mere increase
  and decrease of parts as due to inherited efforts of greater
  or less development by altered flow of nutrition) was at least
  theoretically valid. But how can you extend this to structures
  which, though _useful_, are never _active_, so as to modify flow
  of nutrition, _e.g._ hard shells of nuts, soft pulp of fruits,
  &c.? Here it is that natural selection theory has the pull. And
  so of adaptive _colours_, _odours_, and _secretions_? I confess
  that, even accepting inheritance of acquired characters, I
  could conceive of 'self-adaptation' alone producing all such
  innumerable and diversified adjustments only by seeing with
  Newman (in his 'Apologia') an angel in every flower.

  Besides, I do not see why you are shut up to this, even on your
  own principles. For surely, be there as much self-adaptation in
  Nature as ever you please, it would still be those individuals
  (or _incipient types_) _which best respond_ to stimulation
  (_i.e._ most adaptively do so) that, other things equal, would
  survive in the struggle for existence, and so be naturally
  selected. In other words, I do not see why you should accept
  natural selection as regards 'vigour' of seedlings, and nowhere
  else.

  I quite accept the validity of your criticism of my physiological
  selection in your book, supposing your 'self-adaptation' true
  to the extent you suppose. But otherwise what you say tells
  in favour of physiological selection, at least, excepting the
  statement as to new allied species originating as a rule on
  distant areas from parent types. This, however, is certainly an
  erroneous statement, though I should like to know how you came to
  make it.

  I much wish I could write more or meet you. For, notwithstanding
  apparent bluntness (for brevity's sake), I see you are one of the
  few evolutionists who think for yourself.

  With many thanks, yours very truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  I am not against your criticism of natural selection, for I have
  always thought there must be some other additional principle of
  adaptation at work.


  Grand Hôtel, Costebelle, Hyères (Var): March 12.

  Dear Mr. Henslow,--My husband has much enjoyed your long and
  clear letter which I have just read to him. He is too ill to
  reply himself, but he will dictate a few notes to me to send to
  you.

  Yours very truly,
  ETHEL ROMANES.


  (A) I cry 'Peccavi' _as regards natural selection co-operating
  with self-adaptation_. Since you show that, even if it does, you
  are not concerned with this fact--_i.e._ of the _development of
  the adaptation_, but only with its origin.

  (B) All the same, however, we must remember that where high
  elaboration of mechanism is concerned, the question as to the
  _causes of its development_ become of more importance than those
  _of its origin_; _e.g._ even if self-adaptation be conceived
  capable of making a _first step_ towards producing the exquisite
  mechanism of a bivalve shell, by discriminate variation, _how is
  it conceivable_ that it should _go on_ through _the odd millions
  of successive steps_ of improvement needed to produce the perfect
  mechanism in which the great wonder of adaptation really occurs?

  I can conceive of _no natural process to accomplish this
  development_ even in one such case of mechanism _other than
  natural selection_. Let alone the 'endless variety' of elaborate
  mechanism elsewhere.

  (C) Of course, if you could _prove_ that indiscriminate
  variations have not occurred in wild plants, but only under
  cultivation, _you would destroy Darwinism_--_in toto_. But is the
  proposition credible _a priori_; or sustainable _a posteriori_,
  &c.?

  I suppose you have read Wallace on the subject as regards wild
  animals, and if you were to make similar _measurements_ with
  regard to _wild plants_, you would obtain analogous results.

  I remember as a boy having a game of who could find most
  specimens of fern-leaved clover in a given time, or even two
  leaves of clover which would be exactly alike in all respects.
  But I have already discussed the matter of definite and
  indefinite variability in 'Darwin and after Darwin.'

  (D) I will let the question of Use-Inheritance in relation to
  seemingly Passive Organs, go by default against me, as it is
  rather a side issue and would need much writing to discuss. The
  same applies to your remarks on Teleology. As regards both points
  I agree with your observations.

  (E) Touching varieties as found in different areas from parent
  types, I suppose you heard how carefully Nägeli has gone into the
  subject, with the result that after making allowances for defects
  of isolation, change of environment, &c., only about _five per
  cent. of species of plants seem to have originated on distant
  areas_, while Wallace has shown that some such proportion applies
  to animals.

  (F) As regards plants having been brought under cultivation,
  and yielding variations that prove heredity, I knew there were
  innumerable cases where artificial selection had been brought
  into play. But of course they are all out of court until the
  question on which you are engaged has been decided in your
  favour, _i.e._ until you have succeeded in _disproving natural
  selection_ as analogous or parallel to artificial. It was
  for this reason I mentioned the case of parsnips, where the
  hereditary variations seem to have taken place in the _first
  generation_ after transplanting, and therefore without leaving
  time for selection of any kind to have come into play.


  Hôtel Costebelle, Hyères: March 29.

  Dear Mr. Henslow,--I am still terribly ill and cannot write
  much. We must have a talk. Could you come to Oxford any day you
  like and be our guest? I think we might derive mutual benefit. I
  shall be there from the middle of April till I do not know when.
  Why not come on May 2, to hear Weismann give his lecture in the
  afternoon?

  I much wish you would save seed of any fixed local varieties of
  plants you may find to be in seed, while you are in Malta (or
  bulbs), in order to see whether plants grown from them in England
  will or will not prove fully fertile. This is in relation to
  my own theory of physiological selection, according to which
  isolation produces segregation of type; in the same way as it
  does that of a language--viz. by prevention of intercourse with
  the parent type and consequently with an independent history of
  variation. Where the isolation is due to physical barriers (as
  at Malta) there is no need for any sexual differentiation to
  originate a species. But on common areas, sexual differentiation
  is the only means of securing the isolation. Therefore (I say)
  we can see why Jordan's French varieties all prove sterile with
  their parent forms, and I should expect your Malta varieties to
  prove fertile with _theirs_ elsewhere.

  G. J. R.


  Costebelle: April 15, 1894.

  Dear Mr. Henslow,--Yes, please write when you get back,
  suggesting any time you may find convenient for spending a day
  or two with us at 94 St. Aldate's, Oxford (immediately opposite
  Christ Church). I cannot talk long at a time, but I think the
  meeting will be of use to both.

  Of course 'Isolation _produces_ segregation of type,' is only
  a short-hand expression, meaning--_indiscriminate variation
  being supposed_--isolation supplies a necessary condition to
  segregation of type by upsetting the previous stability that was
  due to free inter-crossing.

  I quite agree that Darwin _very greatly_ over-estimated the
  _benefit_ of inter-crossing, as I am showing in my forthcoming
  book on 'Physiological Selection.' But this is quite a different
  thing from his having _made too much of inter-crossing_ as
  a condition to stability of type; I do not think that this
  _can_ be made too much of. Indeed, how is it conceivable that
  there ever can be _divergence_ of type without _isolation_ of
  some kind having first occurred at the origin, and throughout
  the growth of every branch? Moreover, I agree with you about
  self-fertilisation, but see in it a form of physiological
  selection; it is one kind of sexual isolation, or prevention
  of inter-crossing with neighbouring individuals. So that the
  more perfectly it obtains in any given type, the better chance
  there is for that type to become a new species by independent
  variability--and this whether or not the _independent_
  variability is likewise _indiscriminate_ (or in _your_
  terminology 'indefinite').

  In my last letter I referred to the works of Jordan and Nägeli
  for any number of '_facts_ in _Nature_ of varieties _arising
  among_ the type forms.' I will show you the passages when we
  meet. But even in cases of 'local varieties,' where a variety
  has a habitat of its own _surrounded by the type-form_, I should
  expect experiment would often (though by no means always) show
  some degree of _cross-infertility_ between the two, pointing to
  pre-potency (_i.e._ early stages of physiological selection)
  being the origin of the divergence.

  Before we meet I wish you would try to think of any plants which
  can be propagated by cuttings (or otherwise asexually) which are
  known to be modifiable by changed conditions of life in the first
  generation. I understand you that in some cases the seed of such
  a plant _will not revert_--when sown in its natural environment,
  though, of course, the rule is that it does. Well, in either
  case, I should much like to try whether a cutting &c. from the
  transplanted (and therefore modified) tubers &c. would revert
  to its ancestral character. When retransplanted to its natural
  environment, much would follow from result of such an experiment
  as regards Weismannism.

  Yours very and always truly,
  G. J. ROMANES.

  P.S.--Of course in saying 'on common areas, sexual
  differentiation is the only means of securing the isolation,' I
  did not include self-fertilising plants--any more, _e.g._ than
  insect fertilising where changes in the instincts of insects may
  cause sexual isolation.

  I leave for Oxford to-morrow.


These months were made very happy to him by the fact that three
friends, Mrs. and Miss Church and the Rev. R. C. Moberly,[122] were
staying in the same hotel. He often alludes in his letters to the
intense pleasure these friends gave him, and speaks of how much he
owed to their tenderness and sympathy, and to their perception when
to come and when to stay away.

Many books were heard and read by him. Mr. Gore's Bampton Lectures
were read aloud to him, and he liked them even better than when he
heard them preached. Several other theological books were read, and
of all these the one which bears marks of most careful study is
Pascal's 'Pensées.' He used Mr. C. Kegan Paul's translation. The copy
he had at Costebelle, which used to lie by his bedside, is marked and
annotated. It is the last book he read to himself in his own careful
and student-like fashion. He also wrote some notes of advice to his
boys.

At this time he began to make notes for a work which he intended
to be a supplement or an answer to the 'Candid Examination of
Theism.' As he went on, his notes grew--so it seemed to one who read
them--increasingly nearer Faith, but of them the world can now judge.

He said one day, while scribbling down notes, 'If anything happens to
me before I can work them up into a book, give them to Gore. He will
understand.'

Nothing can be more erroneous than to suppose that the change in
point of view was sudden, or due to any fear of death, or that it
caused mental suffering to the author of 'Thoughts on Religion,' or
that he was influenced by anyone, priest or layman.

There will always be unconscious influence, and it probably was not
altogether in vain that two or three of Mr. Romanes' greatest and
most intimate friends were Christian as well as intellectual men.
But of influence and argument and persuasion, as most people imagine
them, there was nothing. Discussions many, during the past years, but
to these he owed little.

It is written, that those who seek find, and to no one do these words
more fitly apply.

During these months Mr. Romanes read many books of a religious
nature; particularly and pre-eminently he liked to have Dean Church
read aloud, and he also liked Mr. Holland's 'City of God' and Mr.
Illingworth's sermons, particularly one on 'Innocence,' which he
asked for more than once. He also read much poetry, Miss Rossetti and
Archbishop Trench being especial favourites at this time.

To himself he read or had read to him the Bible and Thomas à Kempis,
and he liked Dr. Bright's Ancient Collects, and in part Bishop
Andrewes' Devotions. He never would read or have anything read to him
which did not ring true to him and which he could not appreciate;
for instance, the Pleadings of Our Lord's Physical Sufferings in
Andrewes' Devotions for Friday were very distasteful to him.

He often went to the English Church for short services, and on Easter
Monday Dr. Moberly gave him Holy Communion, for which he had asked
and for which he wished.

In the week before Easter he felt very ill, and said, 'I wish Moberly
(who had gone away for a few days) were here, and we could have that
Celebration; I don't think I shall live till Easter.' But this passed
away, and on Easter Day he was peculiarly bright, and in the evening
said, 'I have written this poem to-day.'

It is impossible to resist the wish to insert it here:


    _HEBREWS_ xi. 10 (_or_ ii. 10).

        'Amen, now lettest Thou Thy servant, Lord,
        Depart in peace, according to Thy Word:
        Although mine eyes may not have fully seen
        Thy great salvation, surely there have been
        Enough of sorrow and enough of sight
        To show the way from darkness into light;
    And Thou hast brought me, through a wilderness of pain,
    To love the sorest paths if soonest they attain.

        'Enough of sorrow for the heart to cry--
        "Not for myself, nor for my kind, am I:"
        Enough of sight for Reason to disclose,
        "The more I learn the less my knowledge grows."
        Ah! not as citizens of this our sphere,
        But aliens militant we sojourn here,
    Invested by the hosts of Evil and of Wrong,
    Till Thou shalt come again with all Thine angel throng.

        'As Thou hast found me ready to Thy call,
        Which stationed me to watch the outer wall,
        And, quitting joys and hopes that once were mine,
        To pace with patient steps this narrow line,
        Oh! may it be that, coming soon or late,
        Thou still shalt find Thy soldier at the gate,
    Who then may follow Thee till sight needs not to prove,
    And faith will be dissolved in knowledge of Thy love.'

From the manuscript it is difficult to determine what was the motto
of the poem, Hebrews xi. or Hebrews ii.; the latter is more probable,
at least so it seems to the present writer.

On the 28th Mr. Romanes wrote a letter to the Dean of Christ Church,
which, besides some items of personal interest, and of expressions of
affection too intimate to be given, contains the following:


  Costebelle: March 28, 1894.

  My dear Paget,--I have had to abandon letter writing for
  several weeks past, as the least effort, even in the way of
  conversation, produces exhaustion in a painful degree. So, as
  usual, I had to ask my wife to answer your kind letter yesterday.
  But this morning I feel a little bit better, so I should like to
  have a try. She has gone to church, and therefore, as I could not
  even hear her read the letter which she posted to you yesterday,
  there is likely to be some repetition.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Oddly enough for my time of life, I have begun to discover the
  truth of what you once wrote about logical processes not being
  the only means of research in regions transcendental. It is too
  large a matter to deal with in a letter, but I hope to have a
  conversation with you some day, and ascertain how far you will
  agree with a certain 'new and short way with the Agnostics.'

       *       *       *       *       *

  Yours ever sincerely and affectionately,
  GEO. J. ROMANES.


He had all his old interest in psychical research, and a friend, Mrs.
Crawfurd, of Auchinames, who shared this interest, used to beguile
many weary hours with ghost stories, and he and she used to 'cap'
each other's narratives.

There were pleasant people in the hotels around, and the bright
sunshine and balmy air were great sources of enjoyment to him. Dr.
Bidon, of Hyères, was unfailing in constant kindness, and it would
be ungrateful not to say how much was owed to the kind landlord, M.
Peyron, and to Madame Peyron.

The journey to England was apparently borne without undue fatigue,
and the home coming was very bright, with joyous meeting with his
children and with various friends. The only difficulty was to keep
him quiet enough. It was said one day, 'When you go home you must
not see too many people.' 'Oh, no,' he replied, 'I only want to see
Paget, and Dr. Sanderson, and Gore, and Philip (Waggett), and Mrs.
Woods, and Ray Lankester, and ----' but he stopped, laughing, the
list was already so long and would soon have been doubled. For a few
days his wife was away, and during this brief absence a very dear
friend, Miss Rose Price, the daughter of the Master of Pembroke, died.

He writes:


  _To Mrs. Romanes._

  How glad I am you are still mine! I have just returned from
  Rose's funeral, which was all but too much for me. As you know,
  I have seen other such things on a grander scale, but never any
  approach to this one in point of beauty and pathos. The College
  Chapel was completely filled with members of the University, with
  wives and daughters, yet all personal friends of hers, including
  all members of the family, the poor Master separated from the
  rest in his official seat. All the undergraduates of Pembroke
  were present, each provided with a lovely wreath, carried in
  procession to the grave. The whole of the east end was one mass
  of white flowers, the coffin with its own flowers being placed in
  the middle of the aisle. The procession walked first all round
  the quad, and then through Christ Church Meadows, being met at
  Holywell by the choir.[123]

  This is the last letter I shall write. All well here, and the
  Interlopers[124] know me now. Weismann accepts invitation to
  lecture, and is on his way on purpose. I have obtained an
  invitation from the Royal Society for him to the 'soirée.'


Four weeks more, and the writer of this letter was also borne through
Christ Church Meadow, and laid to rest near the young girl whom he
had made his friend, and whose death he deeply mourned.

It was thought at this time that a country home would be possibly
better for him. Many drives were taken in search of houses or of
possible sites for building, and he was often positively boyish and
merry during these expeditions.

He began to devise experiments again, and also set to work to arrange
his papers and manuscripts in the most methodical way. As has been
said he had already arranged that if he died before completing
'Darwin, and after Darwin,' Professor Lloyd Morgan should finish
it and publish it, and any other scientific papers, an arrangement
to which Mr. Lloyd Morgan most kindly consented. To Mr. Gore were
bequeathed the fragmentary notes now published under the title
'Thoughts on Religion.'

On May 3 came the third Romanes Lecture. It was given by Professor
Weismann, and was a worthy successor to the two which had preceded it.

Mr. Romanes was glad to meet Professor Weismann, and enjoyed the
pleasant talk he and his distinguished opponent had in his house
after the lecture.

On the seventh of May he went to London to consult doctors, and for
the last time he stayed with his two dear friends, Sir James and Lady
Paget.

He saw one or two people and was, as one friend said, 'just his dear
merry old self, chaffing and being chaffed.'

He enjoyed music as much as ever, and on the nineteenth of May he
went to a concert given by the Ladies' Orchestral Society.

He was often at the Museum, and he wrote frequently of the
experiments he was devising, all bearing on Professor Weismann's
theory; in these he was assisted by Dr. Leonard Hill.

He wrote several times to Professor Schäfer, and on May 19, four days
before his death, in the midst of a long letter too technical to be
given, he says, 'All I can do now for science is to pay.'

He still took much interest in Oxford life, and one of the last
things he did was to vote against the introduction of the English
Language and Literature School.

Cathedral was more than ever a pleasure to him, and he used often
to slip in for bits of the service, particularly if some particular
service or anthem was going to be given. Especially he loved a few
special anthems; Brahms' 'How lovely are Thy dwellings fair' being a
great favourite.

He used to go down to the 'Eights' when they began, and on almost
the very last day of his life he was with difficulty dissuaded from
writing a letter to the 'Times,' strongly supporting the Christ
Church authorities whose proceedings in some disturbances in the
College had been criticised. On Whit Sunday, for the last time, he
went to the University Sermon, which happened to be preached by
the Bishop of Lincoln, and which greatly impressed Mr. Romanes,
brought as he was for the first time under the spell of one who has
influenced more than one generation of Oxford men.

And as the days went on, there was a curious feeling of preparation
for some change. He made all his arrangements and was quite calm,
quite gentle, even merry at times; now and then the weary fits of
physical lassitude or of headache would prostrate him, but when these
were past he would placidly begin some bit of work.

On Thursday in Whit week he went to the eight o'clock Celebration
of Holy Communion in the Latin Chapel of Christ Church, and in the
course of that day he said, 'I have now come to see that faith is
intellectually justifiable.' By-and-by he added, 'It is Christianity
or nothing.'

Presently he added, 'I as yet have not that real inward assurance; it
is with me as that text says, "I am not able to look up," but I feel
the service of this morning is a means of grace.'

This was almost the last time he ever spoke on religious subjects.

With Mr. Philip Waggett there had been in these last days some talks,
and the two friends, united as they had been in earlier years by
their common interest in science, and in those problems which all
who think at all must sooner or later face, now found themselves
in closer and fuller agreement than either could at one time have
believed possible.

Sunday, the twentieth of May, was his birthday and that of his eldest
son, and had always been a family festa. He was bright and merry,
went to Magdalen to see Mrs. Warren, saw for the last time Dr. Paget,
and had a little talk about his 'Thoughts on Religion' with Mr. Gore,
whom he went to hear preach in one of the Oxford churches. And on
Monday he keenly enjoyed a small luncheon party, consisting of the
Master of Balliol, Mr. Gore, and Miss Wordsworth, saying that Poetry,
Science, Theology, Philosophy were all represented, and that he would
have such-like little parties every now and then, they were so
refreshing and did not tire him.

One or two special friends came in to see him on these last days, and
he had planned to go and stay at a country house belonging to the
President of Trinity, which had been with characteristic kindness put
at his disposal.

On Wednesday, May 23, he seemed particularly well; he wrote a letter
to the Editor of the 'Contemporary Review' and did some bits of
work. It was Sir James and Lady Paget's Golden Wedding day, and he
despatched a telegram of congratulation to them. (The very last bit
of shopping he ever did was to buy a present for that Golden Wedding,
which reached those for whom it was intended after he was dead.)

He came into his study about twelve, and asked that the book in which
he was then interested, 'Some Aspects of Theism,'[125] might be read
aloud; but before the reading began he changed his mind, and said he
would lie down in his bedroom and be read to there. On lying down he
complained of feeling very ill, said a few loving words to one who
was with him, and became unconscious. His children and the Dean came
to him, but he did not recover enough to know them, and passed away
in less than an hour: _Ex umbris et imaginibus in veritatem_.

Five days later he was laid to rest in Holywell Cemetery, after an
early Celebration in Christ Church, the first part of the service
being said in the cathedral which he had loved so much, and which had
brought him so much comfort in the last weeks of life.

His favourite hymn, 'Lead, kindly Light,' was sung, and the service
was said in part by the friend who had been with him on his
wedding-day, given him his first Communion after the illness began,
and who had been bound up with many joys and sorrows;[126] and in
part by Mr. Philip Waggett, who had been to him as a young brother,
more and more loved, during the seven years in which they had walked
and talked as friends, the friend known as 'Carissime.' (One other
special friend, Mr. Gore, was prevented by illness from coming.)

Looking back over these two years of illness, it is impossible not to
be struck by the calmness and fortitude with which that illness was
met. There were, as has been said, moments of terrible depression and
of disappointment and of grief. It was not easy for him to give up
ambition, to leave so many projects unfulfilled, so much work undone.

But to him this illness grew to be a mount of purification,

    Ove l'umano spirito si purga,
    E di salire al ciel diventa degno.[127]

More and more there grew on him a deepening sense of the goodness
of God. No one had ever suffered more from the Eclipse of Faith, no
one had ever been more honest in dealing with himself and with his
difficulties.

The change that came over his mental attitude may seem almost
incredible to those who knew him only as a scientific man; it does
not seem so to the few who knew anything of his inner life. To them
the impression given is, not of an enemy changed into a friend,
antagonism altered into submission; rather is it of one who for
long has been bearing a heavy burden on his shoulders bravely and
patiently, and who at last has had it lifted from him, and lifted
so gradually that he could not tell the exact moment when he found
it gone, and himself standing, like the Pilgrim of never to be
forgotten story, at the foot of the Cross, and Three Shining Ones
coming to greet him.

It was recovery, to some extent discovery, which befell him, but
there was no change of purpose, no sudden intellectual or moral
conversion.

He had always cared more for Truth, for the knowledge of God, than
for anything else in the world. In the years most outwardly happy
he was crying out in the darkness for light, with a soul athirst
for God, and, as was said before, he did most truly re-echo St.
Augustine's words, '_Fecisti nos ad Te, et inquietum est cor nostrum,
donec requiescat in Te_.'

It is difficult for anyone who has lived in closest intimacy with him
to speak of him in words which will not to those who did not know
him seem exaggerated, nay, extravagant; to those who knew and loved
him, cold, inadequate, lifeless; for he bore 'the white flower of a
blameless life' from boyhood onwards, and in heart and life he was
unstained, pure, unselfish, unworldly in the truest sense.

When the Shadow of Death lay on him, and the dread messenger was
drawing near, and he looked back on his short life, he could reproach
himself only for what he called sins of the intellect, mental
arrogance, undue regard for intellectual supremacy.

No one better understood him than the friend[128] who wrote:


  When a man has lived with broad and strong interest in life,
  neither discarding nor slighting any true part of it in home,
  or society, or work, the various aspects of his character and
  career are likely to be many and suggestive. And so there may be
  some warrant for an attempt to disengage one line of advance in
  the life, one trait in the example, and to concentrate attention
  upon that, while the other and perhaps more widely recognised
  elements are for the moment left unnoticed. There was one such
  line of advance in the life of George Romanes, of which it may be
  hard to speak, but wrong, perhaps, to be wholly silent. Few men
  have shown more finely the simplicity and patience in sustained
  endeavour which are the conditions of attainment in the quest of
  truth. It is easy to see how the training and habits of a mind
  devoted to natural science may render faith more difficult, and
  cross or check the venture of the soul towards the things eternal
  and unseen. But there is one quality proper to such a mind which
  should have a different effect, and act as a safeguard against
  a fault that often checks or mars the growth of faith. That
  quality is tenacity of uncorrelated fragments; the endurance of
  incompleteness; the patient refusal to attenuate or discard a
  fact because it will not fit into a system; the determined hope
  that whatsoever things are true have further truth to teach, if
  only they are held fast and fairly dealt with. The sincerely
  scientific mind shows such tenacity as that under every trial
  of its faith and patience, howsoever long and unpromising and
  unrelieved; for it knows itself responsible not for attainment,
  but for perseverance; not for conquest, but for loyalty. It
  resists even the temptation to dislike the untidy scraps of
  observation or experience which will match nothing and go
  nowhere; for it suspects and reveres in all the possibility of
  new light.

  And surely there is a like excellence of thought, rare, and
  high, and exemplary, in regard to the things unseen, the things
  that are spiritually discerned. Scattered up and down the world,
  coming one way or another within the ken of all men, there are
  facts of plain experience which will not really fit, unmutilated,
  undisfigured, into any scheme or view of life that leaves God
  out of sight. They are facts, it may be, of which a full account
  can hardly, if at all, be given. They are fragmentary, isolated,
  imponderable; clearer at one time than at another; largely
  dependent, for anything like due recognition, upon the individual
  mind, and heart, and will. Yet there they are, flashing out
  at times with an intensity which makes all else seem pale and
  cold; disclosing, or ready to disclose, to any quietness of
  thought, great hints of worlds unrealised and possibilities of
  overwhelming glory.

  And it is on loyalty, on justice to such fragments of truth,
  unaccounted for and unarranged, that for many men the trial of
  faith may turn. All is not lost, and everything is possible, so
  long as the mind refuses to doubt the reality of the light that
  has come, perhaps, as yet only in broken rays. Of such justice
  and loyalty George Romanes set a very high example. The strength
  and simplicity and patience of his character appeared in nothing
  else more remarkably, more happily, than in his undiscouraged
  grasp of those unseen realities which invade this world in the
  name and power of the world to come. The love of precision and
  completeness never dulled his care for the things that he could
  neither define, nor label, nor arrange; in their fragmentariness
  he treasured them, in their reserve he trusted them, waiting
  faithfully to see what they might have to show him. And they did
  not fail him. This is not the place in which to try to speak
  of the graces and the gladness which from such loyal sincerity
  passed into his life, nor of the clearer light that grew and
  spread before his wistful, hopeful gaze. But it hardly can be
  wrong to have said thus much of so noble and so timely a pattern
  of allegiance to all truth discerned; and of this great lesson
  in a life which seemed even here to have the earnest of that
  promise--'He that seeketh, findeth'--a life which seemed to be
  moving steadily towards the blessing of the pure in heart, the
  vision of Almighty God.[129]

  F. P.


A letter from Mr. Gladstone cannot be omitted, and seems to come in
fittingly at this place:


  1 Carlton Gardens: June.

  Dear Mrs. Romanes,--My present circumstances are not very
  favourable to direct personal communication, and my personal
  intercourse with Mr. Romanes was so scanty in its quantity as
  hardly to warrant my present intrusion, but I cannot help writing
  a few words for the purpose of conveying my deep sympathy on the
  heavy bereavement you have sustained, and further of saying how
  deep an impression he left upon my mind in the point of character
  not less than of capacity. He was one of the men whom the age
  specially requires for the investigation and solution of its
  especial difficulties, and for the conciliation and harmony of
  interests between which a factitious rivalry has been created.

  Your heavy private loss is then coupled in my view with a public
  calamity; but while I can rejoice in your retrospect of his
  labour, I also trust it may please God in His wisdom to raise up
  others to fill up his place and carry forward his work. May you
  enjoy the abundance of the Divine consolations in proportion to
  your great need.

  Believe me, most truly yours,
  W. E. GLADSTONE.


Not much remains to be said. The life here described would seem to
have been cut short, but, as was said by a friend, 'in a short time
he fulfilled a long time,'[130] and few have won for themselves more
love in the home and beyond it. He left no enemy, and those who loved
him and to whom his loss has left a blank and desolation of which
it is not well to speak, can only be thankful for what he was and
for what he is. Not indeed that one would forget those words of Dean
Church quoted in the beautiful preface to his Life:[131]

'I often have a kind of waking dream: up one road, the image of a
man decked and adorned as if for a triumph, carried up by rejoicing
and exulting friends, who praise his goodness and achievements; and,
on the other road, turned back to back to it, there is the very man
himself, in sordid and squalid apparel, surrounded not by friends
but by ministers of justice, and going on, while his friends are
exulting, to his certain and perhaps awful judgment. That vision
rises when I hear, not just and conscientious endeavours to make
out a man's character, but when I hear the loose things that are
said--often in kindness and love--of those beyond the grave.'

But there have been men and women who have lifted the minds and
the hearts of those who knew and loved them to increasing love for
goodness, to increasing loftiness of ideal, and for these, whom now
no praise can hurt, no blame can wound, one can but lift one's heart
in ever growing thankfulness for the gifts and graces which made them
what they were, and which will grow and increase in them until the
Perfect Day.

_Beati mundo corde, quoniam ipsi Deum videbunt._

  May 23, 1895.


FOOTNOTES:

[68] Mr. Romanes had belonged for many years to the Aristotelian
Society, and had contributed papers to the Journal of the Society.
He also once belonged to the Psychological Club, which used to meet
at Professor Croom Robertson's house. The other members of the club
were Mr. Francis Galton, Mr. Sully, Mr. Shadworth Hodgson, Professor
Edgeworth, Professor Dunstan, Mr. Edmund Gurney, Mrs. Bryant, and one
or two others.

[69] See _Thoughts on Religion_, p. 92.

[70] The beautiful cemetery adjoining Holywell Church, Oxford.

[71] Dr. Liddon died in September 1890.

[72] The house which Mr. Romanes had taken was originally an
almshouse.

[73] The Physiological Society has a yearly meeting at Oxford.

[74] Professor Victor Horsley, F.R.S., Univ. Coll. London.

[75] Professor of Physiology at Oxford.

[76] Professor W. Dunstan, F.R.S.

[77] 'Lights of the Church and of Science.'

[78] Professor Kitchen Parker, F.R.S.

[79] Mr. R. Scott, F.R.S.

[80] _The Colours of Animals_, by E. B. Poulton, M.A., F.R.S.,
International Scientific Series, vol. lxviii.

[81] A beautiful terrier.

[82] Two more dogs.

[83] This was the last summer at Geanies.

[84] Mr. E. B. Turner, F.R.C.S.

[85] Psalm xxvii.

[86] A pet name for his daughter.

[87] He had slipped on the rocks and hurt his arm.

[88] His third son.

[89] On 'Physiological Selection.' See _Nature_, vol. xlii. pp. 5, 7,
and vol. xliii. pp. 79 and 127.

[90] The late Professor Sellar.

[91] The Oxford Natural History Society.

[92] The Astronomer Royal at the Cape and his wife.

[93] The Rev. Bartholomew Price, D.D., F.R.S.

[94] Mr. Gladstone had declined at first, but yielded to a second
urgent request from the founder.

[95] The home of Sir William and the Hon. Lady Welby-Gregory.

[96] On the work alluded to in a letter to Professor Schäfer.

[97] The Rev. Philip Napier Waggett, now of Cowley St. John, who was
one of Mr. Romanes' most intimate friends, Mr. Waggett's scientific
attainments made him a valuable as well as a much loved friend.

[98] The Rev. E. Moore, D.D.

[99] Since this letter has been in type the world has had to lament
Mr. Huxley's death.

[100] Privy Councillor.

[101] The proprietor of an hotel in Madeira.

[102] Miss Pollock's marriage to Mr. Vernon Boys, F.R.S., is here
referred to.

[103] A pet name for his sister.

[104] A window to his memory is to be placed in Caius College Chapel.

[105] A favourite cousin, who died a few mouths after Mr. Romanes.

[106] See p. 289, above.

[107] His wedding-day.

[108] Dr. Paget had been very ill.

[109] Mr. Waggett.

[110] It was 'book-plate.'

[111] _Contemporary_, April 1892.

[112] His butler, an old and valued servant.

[113] F. J. Moulton, Esq., M.P., F.R.S.

[114] Professor W. Crookes, F.R.S.

[115] Mr. Herbert Spencer on 'Natural Selection,' _Contemporary
Review_, April 1893.

[116] Now Bishop of Rochester.

[117] About eighteen months before, when a very temporary attack of
aphasia had come on.

[118] His brother was making additions to the house at Dunskaith.

[119] He did see one more.

[120] See _Life and Letters of C. Darwin_, vol. iii. p. 358.

[121] Mr. G. R. Turner, F.R.C.S., one of Mr. Romanes's dearest
friends; as was also his brother, Mr. E. B. Turner, F.R.C.S.

[122] Regius Professor of Pastoral Theology at Oxford.

[123] Of St. Giles's Parish Church.

[124] A pet name for the two babies.

[125] By Professor Knight of St. Andrews.

[126] The Dean of Christ Church.

[127] Dante's _Purgatorio_, I.

[128] The Dean of Christ Church.

[129] Reprinted from the _Guardian_ of June 6.

[130] Wisdom, iv. 13.

[131] Preface to _Life and Letters of Dean Church_, p. xxiv.




INDEX


  Acton, Lord, 286

  Agassiz, 15, 31, 32

  Allen, Grant, 55

  Allman, Professor, 149, 150

  Arnold, M., 82


  Balfour, Rt. Hon. A. J., 142

  -- Mr. Francis, 15, 148

  Bishop of Oxford (Wilberforce), 81

  Boys, Mrs. Vernon, letter to, 294

  Bramwell, Sir F., 222, 223

  British Association, 65, 71

  Browning, Robert, 142, 149

  Brunton, Dr. Lauder, 61, 148

  Brydon, Dr., 14

  Burney prize, won by G. J. Romanes, 9, 83

  Butcher, Professor, 148, 193, 266, 277


  Caird, Professor (now Master of Balliol), 40, 348

  Cats, sense of direction in, 107

  Cautley, Rev. Proby, 6, 7

  Children, poem to, 139

  Church, Dean, 156, 157, 229, 343, 356

  Churchill, Mr., 204, 209

  Clodd, E. M., 149

  Compton, Earl and Countess, 272, 273, 276, 277, 286

  Correvon, Professor, 177, 212, 213

  Crookes, Professor, 303, 304

  Croonian Lectures, 15, 92

  Curteis, Canon, 151


  Darwin, Charles, first introduction to, 12

  -- first meeting with, 14

  Darwin, Charles, letters from, 32, 34, 35, 45, 47, 49, 56, 60, 62, 65,
        66, 72, 74, 75, 76, 78, 85, 97, 101, 102, 105, 108, 109, 114,
        115, 117, 120, 123, 126

  -- letters to, 19, 20, 33, 34, 38, 42, 45, 50, 53, 55, 57, 61, 63, 68,
        70, 71, 73, 77, 79, 86, 93, 98, 99, 100, 103, 104, 106, 112,
        116, 118, 119, 120, 121, 125

  -- quoted, 196, 200, 203, 211, 220, 221, 224, 307, 320, 339

  -- death of, 130

  -- memorial volume, 133

  -- Mr. F., 8, 50, 51, 54, 59, 78, 73, 105, 130, 131, 132, 135, 170,
        171, 186, 209, 303, 317

  _Darwin and after Darwin_, 177, 279

  Dawkins, Professor Boyd, 151

  Delbœuf, _La Psychologie, son Présent et son Avenir_, 74

  Dyer, Mr. Thiselton, 90, 198, 200, 211, 213, 239, 304, 307, 314, 315,
        316


  Eimer, Dr., 45, 224, 290

  Eliot, George, 48

  Evidences of Organic Evolution, lectures on, 66

  Ewart, Professor Cossar, 14, 92, 100, 128, 150, 256, 290, 311


  Fabre, M., 111, 113, 196

  Flower, Sir W., 74, 302

  Foster, Dr. Michael, 8, 13, 31, 38, 51


  Galton, Mr. Francis, 55, 161, 162, 239, 262, 302, 317

  Germination, experiments on, 303, 324

  Gill, Mr. and Mrs., 272

  Gotch (Professor), 258

  Gladstone, Rt. Hon. W. E., 162, 231, 275, 286, 355

  Gore, Rev. C., 81, 272, 278, 303, 311, 342, 349, 351

  Gosse, Mr. E. W., 229, 277

  Gounod, 69

  Graham, Mr. H. M., M.P., 273, 277

  Gray, Professor Asa, 153, 154

  Green, Mr. J. R., 144

  Gulick, Rev. J., 216, 217, 232, 236, 255


  Häckel, 47, 49, 51, 52, 61, 66, 93

  Heliotropism, experiments on, 325

  Helmholtz, Professor, 320

  Henslow, Rev. George, letters to and from, 327-341

  Hobhouse, Sir A., 76

  -- Rev. W., 277, 297

  Holland-Scott, Rev. H., 144, 185, 284

  Hooker, Sir Joseph, 20, 54, 74, 176

  Horsley, Mr. Victor, 222, 259, 265

  Huxley, Professor, 16, 55, 74, 144, 259, 278, 286, 287, 303, 316

  Hybridism, 101, 102, 103


  Instinct, article on, 129


  Joachim, Dr. Joseph, 70, 273


  Lamarck, 222, 224, 308

  Lankester, Professor, 46, 90, 277

  Latham, Dr., 9

  Lawless, Hon. E., 56, 57

  Lecky, Mr., 162, 285

  Le Conte, Professor, 238, 278

  Liddon, Rev. Dr., 143, 160, 257, 258, 259

  Lincoln, Bishop of, 348

  Linnean Society, 38, 116

  Lister, C. E., 5, 256

  Lockyer, Mr. Norman, 126, 142, 148

  Logan, Mr. C., 193

  _Lux Mundi_, 249, 250, 259


  McKendrick, Professor, 91

  Medusæ, work on, 15, 16, 17, 18, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30,
        31, 32, 33, 37, 47

  Meldola, Professor, 90, 161

  Mivart, Professor St. George, 100

  Moberly, Rev. Dr., 342, 343

  Moore, Rev. Aubrey, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253

  Morgan, Professor Lloyd C., 311

  Myers, Mr. F. W., 80


  Newall, Mr., 99


  Paget, Rev. H. L., 2, 232

  -- Miss M. M., 139, 140, 286

  -- Very Rev. Francis, 2, 143, 149, 151, 157, 159, 228, 297, 310, 320,
        343, 346, 351

  -- Sir James, 344, 349

  Palgrave, Professor, 229, 278

  Pangenesis, letters on, 18, 19, 21, 35, 47, 49, 107, 108, 195, 223,
        225, 254

  Panmixia, 198, 212, 224, 239, 254

  Pascal, 342

  Pembroke, Master of, 346

  Perrier, M., 196, 198, 222

  Pfleiderer, Professor, 160

  Physiological selection, 162-176, 201-208, 209-217, 235

  Physiological Society, 51, 65

  Pollock, Mr. W. H., 92

  -- Mrs. H., letters to, 263, 288

  Poulton, Professor E. B., 192, 193, 195, 197, 220

  Psychology, work on, 188, 190


  Rede Lecture, 153

  Romanes, Rev. Dr., 1, 2

  -- Mr., 1, 9, 92

  -- Miss C. E., letters to, 65, 129, 142, 144, 161, 166, 178, 184, 185

  -- Miss Georgina, 69

  -- Mrs. G. J., letters to, 91, 262, 266, 296-301, 346

  -- Mr. James, letters to, 11, 151, 187, 240, 289, 292, 295, 312, 319

  Rosebery Lectureship, 177

  Roux, Dr., 109, 110, 125

  Ruskin, John, 98


  St. Albans, Bishop of, 156

  'Sally,' letter on, 241

  Sanderson, Professor Burdon, 13, 18, 51, 66, 69, 117, 130, 148, 192,
        259, 311, 326

  Schäfer, Professor, letters to, 22, 25, 28, 37, 279, 348

  Sharpey, Professor, 13

  Shorthouse, Mr., 144

  Smith, Rev. Robert, 1

  Spencer, Herbert, 48, 93, 96, 144, 221, 239, 301, 305, 307

  Spottiswoode, Mr. William, 14, 142, 149

  Sully, Mr., 96, 277


  Tait, Lawson, 21

  Talbot, Dr., 311

  Taylor, Canon Isaac, 291, 296

  Teesdale, Mr. J. M., 99, 100, 129

  _Theism, a Candid Examination of_, 83, 149, 153, 154, 342

  Thompson, Sir W. (Lord Kelvin), 91

  _Thoughts on Religion_, 342

  Tyndall, Professor, 104, 143


  Vivisection, 61, 62, 117, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126


  Waggett, Rev. P. W., 311, 348, 350

  Wallace, Mr., 55, 90, 170, 210, 211, 219, 255, 261, 337

  Wedgwood, Miss, 99, 100, 101

  Weismann, Professor, 194, 195, 196, 197, 211, 220, 223, 224, 225, 226,
        235, 236, 237, 239, 240, 253, 254, 266, 288, 300, 301, 347


  Yeo, Professor Gerald, 65




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  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

  Superscripts are denoted by ^  eg A^n.

  Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected after careful
  comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation
  of external sources.

  Except for those changes noted below, all misspelling in the text,
  and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. For example:
  develop, develope; dulness; inclose; starfish, star-fish.

  Table of Contents. '228' replaced by '248'.
  Pg 18, Footnote [7]. 'Weissmannism' replaced by 'Weismannism'.
  Pg 50. 'Rosshire' replaced by 'Ross-shire'.
  Pg 126. 'You letter' replaced by 'Your letter'.
  Pg 190. 'Fetichism' replaced by 'Fetishism'.
  Index: Huxley. '237' replaced by '287'.