Chapter II: London, 1879-1890 (2)

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.