CHAPTER XVII 



CHARACTERISATION, ESPECIALLY BY LETTERS 



"His interest was nearly as promptly and vehemently kindled in one subject as in another; 

 he was always boldly tentative, always fresh and vigorous in suggestion, always instant in 

 search." Morley, Diderot, Vol. II, p. 37. 



In this final chapter the reader will find printed a selection from the 

 innumerable letters which Francis Galton, during a long life, wrote to his 

 family circle and friends. Mv aim in the earlier chapters of this biography, 

 after describing Galton's ancestry and childhood, has been to give a full 

 account of his contributions to science, and to reproduce portions of his 

 scientific correspondence. I have not wholly excluded from this chapter 

 letters to scientific friends — failing a complete publication of Galton's letters 

 it must be an "omnibus" appendix — but its main purpose is to paint a side of 

 Galton's nature which I fear has not been adequately emphasised in the earlier 

 chapters. Francis Galton to his scientific colleagues was courteous, generous 

 and marvellously humble. To his relatives and close friends he was sympathetic, 

 helpful and always full of fun. His wonderful patience with an invalid wife, 

 and after her death his splendid loyalty to her memory, can only be lightly 

 touched on here. His limitations were as well known to himself as to others; 

 he had no musical sense, and art, whether in colour, form or verbal expression, 

 was not for him an essential need of his being. I do not think he was fond 

 of animals, nor had he a keen comprehension and love of young things; 

 perhaps they suggested too bitterly what was lacking in his own life; he 

 seemed to be alarmed by children, and did not find the right words to say 

 to them. I doubt whether he could have placed a child on his knee and told 

 it a tale. With young people beginning to think and to take an interest in 

 life's problems he was wholly sympathetic; he respected their views, however 

 callow, and entered with jest and anecdote into all their fun. At "biometric 

 teas" his presence was never over-aweing, indeed it was he who generally 

 started and led the mirth. 



The letters which follow will show clearly how deeply he could sympathise 

 with those who failed to appreciate the contributions he was making to 

 the great revolution in human thought which marked the last quarter of the 

 nineteenth century. I have said that he did not understand children, yet 

 lie did understand and sympathise with those simple childlike natures which 

 still found comfort, and a crutch for the conduct of life, in the faiths of 

 mankind's infancy. He would endeavour to interpret their conceptions in 

 terms of his own wider aspirations. To those who stood nearer to his own 

 standpoint he made no pretence of reconciling the old with the new — "It 



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