Throughout the subsequent special sessions of this meeting Huxley could not appear. He gave the impression of being aged but not infirm, and no one realised that he had spoken his last word as champion of the law of evolution. (See, however, below.)

Such criticism of the address as he actually expressed reappears in the leading article, "Past and Present," which he wrote for "Nature" to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of its foundation (November 1, 1894).

The essence of the criticism is that with whatever demonstrations of hostility to parts of the Darwinian theory Lord Salisbury covered the retreat of his party from their ancient positions, he admitted the validity of the main points for which Darwin contended.]

The essence of this great work (the "Origin of Species") may be stated summarily thus: it affirms the mutability of species and the descent of living forms, separated by differences of more than varietal value, from one stock. That is to say, it propounds the doctrine of evolution as far as biology is concerned. So far, we have merely a restatement of a doctrine which, in its most general form, is as old as scientific speculation. So far, we have the two theses which were declared to be scientifically absurd and theologically d.a.m.nable by the Bishop of Oxford in 1860.

It is also of these two fundamental doctrines that, at the meeting of the British a.s.sociation in 1894, the Chancellor of the University of Oxford spoke as follows:--

"Another lasting and unquestioned effect has resulted from Darwin's work. He has, as a matter of fact, disposed of the doctrine of the immutability of species..."

"Few now are found to doubt that animals separated by differences far exceeding those that distinguished what we know as species have yet descended from common ancestors."

Undoubtedly, every one conversant with the state of biological science is aware that general opinion has long had good reason for making the volte face thus indicated. It is also mere justice to Darwin to say that this "lasting and unquestioned" revolution is, in a very real sense, his work. And yet it is also true that, if all the conceptions promulgated in the "Origin of Species" which are peculiarly Darwinian were swept away, the theory of the evolution of animals and plants would not be in the slightest degree shaken.

[The strain of this single effort was considerable] "I am frightfully tired," [he wrote on August 11,] "but the game was worth the candle."

[Letters to Sir J.D. Hooker and to Professor Lewis Campbell contain his own account of the affair. The reference in the latter to the priests is in reply to Professor Campbell's story of one of Jowett's last sayings. They had been talking of the collective power of the priesthood to resist the introduction of new ideas; a long pause ensued, and the old man seemed to have slipped off into a doze, when he suddenly broke the silence by saying,] "The priests will always be too many for you."

The Spa, Tunbridge Wells, August 12, 1894.

My dear Hooker,

I wish, as everybody wished, you had been with us on Wednesday evening at Oxford when we settled accounts for 1860, and got a receipt in full from the Chancellor of the University, President of the a.s.sociation, and representative of ecclesiastical conservatism and orthodoxy.

I was officially asked to second the vote of thanks for the address, and got a copy of it the night before--luckily--for it was a kittle business...

It was very queer to sit there and hear the doctrines you and I were d.a.m.ned for advocating thirty-four years ago at Oxford, enunciated as matters of course--disputed by no reasonable man!--in the Sheldonian Theatre by the Chancellor...

Of course there is not much left of me, and it will take a fortnight's quiet at Eastbourne (whither we return on Tuesday next) to get right.

But it was a pleasant last flare-up in the socket!

With our love to you both.

Ever yours affectionately,

T.H. Huxley.

Hodeslea, August 18, 1894.

My dear Campbell,

I am setting you a good example. You and I are really too old friends to go on wasting ink in honorary prefixes.

I had a very difficult task at Oxford. The old Adam, of course, prompted the tearing of the address to pieces, which would have been a very easy job, especially the latter half of it. But as that procedure would not have harmonised well with the function of a seconder of a vote of thanks, and as, moreover, Lord S. was very just and good in his expressions about Darwin, I had to convey criticism in the shape of praise.

It was very curious to me to sit there and hear the Chancellor of the University accept, as a matter of course, the doctrines for which the Bishop of Oxford coa.r.s.ely anathematised us thirty-four years earlier. E pur si muove!

I am not afraid of the priests in the long-run. Scientific method is the white ant which will slowly but surely destroy their fortifications. And the importance of scientific method in modern practical life--always growing and increasing--is the guarantee for the gradual emanc.i.p.ation of the ignorant upper and lower cla.s.ses, the former of whom especially are the strength of the priests.

My wife had a very bad attack of her old enemy some weeks ago, and she thought she would not be able to go to Oxford. However, she picked up in the wonderfully elastic way she has, and I believe was less done-up than I when we left on the Friday morning. I was glad the wife was there, as the meeting gave me a very kind reception, and it was probably the last flare-up in the socket.

The Warden of Merton took great care of us, but it was sad to think of the vacuity of Balliol.

Please remember me very kindly to Father Steffens and the Steeles, and will you tell Herr Walther we are only waiting for a balloon to visit the hotel again?

With our affectionate regards to Mrs. Campbell and yourself.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[Here also belong several letters of miscellaneous interest. One is to Mrs. Lewis Campbell at the Maloja.]

Hodeslea, August 20, 1894.

My dear Mrs. Campbell,

What a pity I am not a telepath! I might have answered your inquiry in the letter I was writing to your husband yesterday.

The flower I found on the island in Sils Lake was a cross between Gentiana lutea and Gentiana punctata--nothing new, but interesting in many ways as a natural hybrid.

As to baptizing the island, I am not guilty of usurping ecclesiastical functions to that extent. I have a notion that the island has a name already, but I cannot recollect it. Walther would know.

My wife had a bad attack, and we were obliged to give up some visits we had projected. But she got well enough to go to Oxford with me for a couple of days, and really stood the racket better than I did.

At present she is fairly well, and I hope the enemy may give her a long respite. The Colliers come to us at the end of this month, and that will do her good.

With our affectionate regards to you both and remembrances to our friends.

Ever yours very truly,

T.H. Huxley.

[The first of the following set refers to a lively piece of nonsense which Huxley wrote just before going to stay with the Romanes' at Oxford on the occasion of the Romanes Lecture. (See above.) After Professor Romanes' death, Mrs. Romanes asked leave to print it in the biography of her husband. In the other letters, Huxley gives his consent, but, with his usual care for the less experienced, tried to prevent any malicious perversion of the fun which might put her in a false position.]

To Mrs. Romanes.

Hodeslea, September 20, 1894.

I do not think I can possibly have any objection to your using my letter if you think it worth while--but perhaps you had better let me look at it, for I remember nothing about it--and my letters to people whom I trust are sometimes more plain-spoken than polite about things and men. You know at first there was some talk of my possibly supplying Gladstone's place in case of his failure, and I would not be sure of my politeness in that quarter!

Pray do not suppose that your former letter was other than deeply interesting and touching to me. I had more than half a mind to reply to it, but hesitated with a man's horror of touching a wound he cannot heal.

And then I got a bad bout of "liver," from which I am just picking up.

Hodeslea, September 22, 1894.