350 LIFE OF PROFESSOR HUXLEY chap, xxiv 



est of which, a parody of Sydney Smith's dictum on Dr. 

 Whewell, Huxley repUed: — 



" A Devonshire Man " is good enough to say of me that 

 " cutting up monkeys is his forte, and cutting up men is his 

 foible." With your permission, I propose to cut up " A Devon- 

 shire Man " ; but I leave it to the public to judge whether, when 

 so employed, my occupation is to be referred to the former or 

 to the latter category. 



For this he was roundly lectured by the Spectator on 

 January 29, in an article under the heading " Pope Huxley." 

 Regardless of the rights or wrongs of the controversy, he 

 was chidden for the abusive language of the above para- 

 graph, and told that he was a very good anatomist, but had 

 better not enter into discussions on other subjects. 



The same question is developed in the address to the 

 Ethnological Society later in the year and in " Some Fixed 

 Points in British Ethnology " {Contemporary Review, 1871), 

 and reiterated in an address from the chair in Section D 

 at the British Association in 1878 at Dublin, and in a letter 

 to the Times for October 12, 1887, apropos of a leading 

 article upon " British Race-types of To-day." 



Letter-writing was difificult under such pressure of work, 

 but the claims of absent friends were not wholly forgotten, 

 though left on one side for a time, and the warm-hearted 

 Dohrn, who could not bear to think himself forgotten, man- 

 aged to get a letter out of him — not on scientific business. 



26 Abbey Place, Jan. 30, 1870. 



My dear Dohrn— In one sense I deserve all the hard things 

 you may have said and thought about me, for it is really scandal- 

 ous and indefensible that I have not written to you. But in 

 another sense, I do not, for I have very often thought about you 

 and your doings, and as I have told you once before, your 

 memory always remains green in the " happy family." 



But what between the incessant pressure of work and an 

 inborn aversion to letter-writing, I become a worse and worse 

 correspondent the longer I live, and unless I can find one or 

 two friends who will [be] content to bear with my infirmities 

 and believe that however long before we meet, I shall be ready 

 to take them up again exactly where I left off, I shall be a 

 friendless old man. 



