DEMOCRA TS AND ARISTOCRA TS IN SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH 419 



closer, warm friends, and sometimes master and pupil. What could be 

 more characteristic than the distinction in the attitude of Darwin and 

 his brilliant spokesman, Huxley? On the one hand, we have the quiet 

 naturalist of Down turning over in his mind for twenty years observa- 

 tions made on the voyage of the Beagle, and the culmination of that re- 

 flection in the scientific torpedo of the nineteenth century, The Origin 

 of Species. And on the other, stands the rugged Huxley, self-appointed 

 champion for truth, the most lucid scientific writer of the day, meet- 

 ing all comers in defense of the theory of evolution, nay, going much 

 further, carrying war into the enemy's country, extending his campaign 

 beyond the field of biology and evolution and, through the medium of 

 the public press, hammering into public consciousness the scientific 

 method in general. In Darwin's own words in his autobiography we 

 have this; "I think I can say with truth, though I cared in the highest 

 degree for the approbation of such men as Lyell and Hooker, who were 

 my friends, I did not care much about the general public. I do not 

 mean to say that a favorable review or a large sale of my books did 

 not please me greatly, but the pleasure was a fleeting one, and I am 

 sure that I have never turned one inch out of my way to gain fame." 

 He must have been regardless of public approbation who spent eight 

 weary years on the Cirripedia, describing all known living species, and 

 publishing two quartos on the extinct species, and who passed from 

 the Origin of Species to a book on the "Fertilization of Orchids." But 

 Huxley was different. Brilliant investigator that he was himself in the 

 field of pure science, he cared more for something else. The educa- 

 tion of the masses was the supreme thing. He fought to give the people 

 the truth at a time when they did not want it, and how he came up from 

 the bottom is appreciated by few of the succeeding generation who take 

 his victory for granted. 



We might confuse the issue a little and pair off Sir Humphry Davy 

 and his pupil, the immortal Faraday, perhaps the most lovable man 

 science has ever produced, and, if we except Pasteur, the favorite of all 

 biographers, Faraday, who never knew what it was to have a decent 

 income, and presented to the world a set of scientific experiments the 

 cash value of which to mankind was estimated by Brailsford Robertson 

 some years ago at seventy five billions of dollars. For to Faraday we 

 owe the motor and the dynamo. 



Which was Faraday? The aristocrat surely, we say when we recall 

 that he repeatedly dropped his investigations when they neared the 

 point of marketable value. But he never lost sight of the latter. "I 

 had rather," he said, "been desirous of discovering new facts and new 

 relations dependent on magneto-electric induction than of exalting the 

 force of those already obtained, being assured that the latter would find 

 their full development hereafter." And when asked of the possible 



