1 8 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY CHAP, i 



ATHEN^UM CLUB, PALL MALL, S.W., 

 Dec. 2, 1880. 



MY DEAR TYNDALL I must tell you the ins and outs of this 

 Nineteenth Century business. I was anxious to help Knowles 

 when he started the journal, and at his earnest and pressing 

 request I agreed to do what I have done. But being quite aware 

 of the misinterpretation to which I should be liable if my name 

 " sans phrase " were attached to the article, I insisted upon the 

 exact words which you will find at the head of it; and which 

 seemed, and still seem to me, to define my position as a mere 

 adviser of the editor. 



Moreover, by diligently excluding any expression of opinion 

 on the part of the writers of the compilation, I thought that 

 nobody could possibly suspect me of assuming the position of 

 an authority even on the subjects with which I may be sup- 

 posed to be acquainted, let alone those such as physics and 

 chemistry, of which I know no more than anyone of the public 

 may know. 



Therefore your remarks came upon me to-night with the 

 sort of painful surprise which a man feels who is accused of 

 the particular sin of which he flatters himself he is especially 

 not guilty, and " roused my corruption " as the Scotch have it. 

 But there is no need to say anything about that, for you were 

 generous and good as I have always found you. Only I pray 

 you, if hereafter it strikes you that any doing of mine should be 

 altered or amended, tell me yourself and privately, and I promise 

 you a very patient listener, and what is more a very thankful 

 one. Ever yours, T. H. HUXLEY. 



Tyndall replied with no less frankness, thanking him for 

 the friendly promptitude of his letter, and explaining that 

 he had meant to speak privately on the matter, but had 

 been forestalled by the subject coming up when it did. 

 And he wound up by declaring that it would be too absurd 

 to admit the power of such an occasion ' to put even a 

 momentary strain upon the cable which has held us together 

 for nine and twenty years." 



At the very end of the year, George Eliot died. A 

 proposal was immediately set on foot to inter her remains 

 in Westminster Abbey, and various men of letters pressed 

 the matter on the Dean, who was unwilling to stir without 

 a very strong and general expression of opinion. To Mr. 



