Life had run very smoothly during these years from 1879 to 1890, only now and then fits of gout had shaken the belief Mr. Romanes had hitherto felt in his own strength, in his possession of perfect health.
But about the end of 1889 other signs of ill-health appeared in the shape of severe headaches; he began to weary of London and the distractions of London life.
By degrees his thoughts and inclinations turned strongly in the direction of Oxford. Oxford seemed to satisfy every wish. The beautiful city gratified his poetic sense; there were old friends already there to welcome him, and there seemed abundance of appliances and of facilities for scientific work.
Also the ease with which he could get into the country, the opportunities for constant exercise, the freedom he would obtain from councils and committees, were tempting. A beautiful old house opposite Christ Church was to be had, and this finally determined him. He fell absolutely in love with Oxford, and brief as his connection with her was to be, the University has had few more loyal sons, nor has she ever exercised more complete influence over any who have fallen under her sway.
It is surprising, as one looks back on the Oxford years, to realise how short a time Mr. Romanes spent there, and yet it is impossible not to realise also for how much that time counted in his life.
Many influences were working in him, a ripening judgment, a growth of character, a deepening sense of the inadequacy of scientific research, philosophical speculation, and artistic pleasures to fill 'the vacuum in the soul of man which nothing can fill save faith in God.'[68] And now Oxford, with all the beauty still left to her, with all the associations which haunt her, with all the extraordinary witching spell which she knows so well how to exercise—Oxford, the home of 'lost causes' and also of forward movements, Oxford came to be for four brief years his home.
1890 opened with the death of Mr. Aubrey Moore. Only a very few weeks before his too early death, Mr. Moore had been present at the Aristotelian Society,[69] and had heard the joint papers contributed by Professor Alexander, the Rev. S. Gildea, and Mr. Romanes on the 'Evidences of Design in Nature.'
Here, again, Mr. Romanes showed how far he had receded from the materialistic point of view. In his paper he quoted passages from Aubrey Moore's essay in 'Lux Mundi' (just published), and says:
Yet once more, it may be argued, as it has been argued by a member of this Society in a recently-published essay—and this an essay of such high ability that in my opinion it must be ranked among the very few of the very greatest achievements in the department of literature to which it belongs—it may, I say, be argued, as it recently has been argued by the Rev. Aubrey Moore, that 'the counterpart of the theological belief in the unity and omnipresence of God is the scientific belief in the unity of nature and the reign of law'; that 'the evolution which was at first supposed to have destroyed teleology is found to be more saturated with teleology than the view which it superseded'; that 'it is a great gain to have eliminated chance, to find science declaring that there must be a reason for everything, even when we cannot hazard a conjecture as to what the reason is'; that 'it seems as if in the providence of God the mission of modern science was to bring home to our unmetaphysical ways of thinking the great truth of the Divine immanence in creation, which is not less essential to the Christian idea of God than to the philosophical view of nature.' But on the opposite side it may be represented—as, indeed, Mr. Aubrey Moore himself expressly allows—that all these deductions are valid only on the preformed supposition, or belief, 'that God is, and that He is the rewarder of such as diligently seek Him.' Granting, as Mr. Aubrey Moore insists, that a precisely analogous supposition, or belief, is required for the successful study of nature—viz. 'that it is, and that it is a rational (? orderly) whole which reason can interpret,' still, where the question is as to the existence of God, or the fact of design, it constitutes no final answer to show that all these deductions would logically follow if such an answer were yielded in the affirmative. All that these deductions amount to is an argument that there is nothing in the constitution of nature inimical to the hypothesis of design: beyond this they do not yield any independent verification of that hypothesis. Innumerable, indeed, are the evidences of design in nature if once a designer be supposed; but, apart from any such antecedent supposition, we are without any means of gauging the validity of such evidence as is presented. And the reason of this is, that we are without any means of ascertaining what it is that lies behind, and is itself the cause of, the uniformity of nature. In other words, we do not know, and cannot discover, what is the nature of natural causation.
Nevertheless, I think it is a distinct gain, both to the philosophy and the theology of our age, that science has reduced the great and old-standing question of Design in Nature to this comparatively narrow issue. Therefore, I have directed the purpose of this paper to showing that, in view of the issue to which science has reduced this question, it cannot be answered on the lower plane of argument which Mr. Alexander has chosen. All that has been effected by our recent discovery of a particular case of causality in the selection principle is to throw back the question of design, in all the still outstanding provinces of Nature, to the question—What is the nature of natural causation? Or, again, to quote Mr. Aubrey Moore, 'Darwinism has conferred upon philosophy and religion an inestimable benefit by showing us that we must choose between two alternatives: either God is everywhere present in Nature, or He is nowhere.' This, I apprehend, puts the issue into as small a number of words as it well can be put. And whether God is everywhere or nowhere depends on what is the nature of natural causation. Is this intelligent or unintelligent? Is it the mode in which a Divine Being is everywhere simultaneously and eternally operating; or is it but the practical expression of what we understand by a mechanical necessity? In short, is it original or derived—final, and therefore inexplicable, because self-existing; or is it the effect of a higher cause in the existence of a disposing Mind?
Although I cannot wait to argue this, the ultimate question which we have met to consider, I may briefly state my own view with regard to it. This is the same view that the originator of the doctrine of natural selection himself used habitually to express to me in conversation—viz. to use his own words, 'I have long ago come to the conclusion that it is a question far beyond the reach of the human mind.' Such, of course, is the position of pure agnosticism.
At the end of this paper, Mr. Aubrey Moore remarked that he agreed with all Mr. Alexander's arguments, but disagreed with all his conclusions, and that he disagreed with all Mr. Gildea's arguments but agreed with his conclusions; and as for Mr. Romanes, he could only leave him out, after the kind and flattering terms in which he had spoken of the essay in 'Lux Mundi.' At the end of his little speech he said aside to a friend, 'What a fellow Romanes is! "Lux Mundi" has been out about three weeks, and he knows all about it.'
The friends are lying almost side by side in Holywell,[70] and it is impossible not to feel that their deaths have left places hard to fill. About Aubrey Moore, Mr. Romanes wrote some touching words in the 'Guardian' (he was never afraid to express his admiration, to wear his heart upon his sleeve). The little notice has now been reprinted with two others as a Preface to the volume of Mr. Moore's Essays 'Science and the Faith.'
To Professor Poulton.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 27, 1890.
My dear Poulton,—Many thanks for your letter, with its very clear and cogent reasoning. But I am not sure that the latter does not hit Weismann harder than it hits me. For the cases you have in view are those where very recently acquired characters are concerned; and where, therefore, according to my views, 'the force of heredity' is weak and thus quickly 'worn out.' In such cases (as I say in the last passages of enclosed, which I return for you to hand me on Friday) 'cessation will (quickly) ensure the reduction of an unused organ below fifty per cent, of its original size, and so on down to zero; but this it does because it is now assisted by another and co-operating principle—viz. the eventual failure of heredity.'
Now it is just this co-operating principle that Weismann is debarred from recognising by his dogma about 'stability of germ-plasm.' And it is a principle that must act the more energetically (i.e. 'quickly') the shorter the time since the now degenerating organ was originally acquired. In the 'Nature' articles I was speaking of 'rudimentary organs' which in Darwin's sense are very old heirlooms. All this to make you reconsider whether there is any disagreement between us upon this point.
It is, indeed, a terrible thing about Aubrey Moore, and also a loss to Darwinism on its popular side.
G. J. R.
February 16, 1890.
After receiving your letter this day a month ago, it occurred to me that I had better write an article in 'Nature' on Panmixia, pointing out the resemblances and the differences between Weismann's statement of the principle and mine. Shortly after sending it in, Weismann's answer to Vines appeared, and from this it seems that he has modified his views upon the subject. For while in his essays he says that 'the complete disappearance of a rudimentary organ can only take place by the operation of natural selection' (i.e. reversal of selection through economy, &c.), in 'Nature' he says, 'Organs no longer in use become rudimentary, and must finally disappear, solely by Panmixia.' Thus, the same facts are attributed at one time 'only' to the presence of selection, and at another time 'solely' to its absence.
Now, the latter view seems exactly the same as mine, if it means (as I suppose it must) that the cessation of selection ultimately leads to a failure of heredity. (How about stability of germ-plasm here?) The time during which the force of heredity will persist, when thus merely left to itself, will vary with the original strength of this force, which, in turn, will presumably vary with the length of time that the organ has previously been inherited. Thus, differences of merely specific value (to which you allude in your letter) will quickly disappear under cessation of selection, while 'vestiges' of class value are long-enduring. The point to be clear about is that the cessation of selection (in my view) entails two consequences, which are quite distinct. First, a comparatively small amount of reduction due to promiscuous variability round an average which, however, will be a continuously sinking average if the cessation is assisted by a reversal of selection; and second, later on, a failure of the form of heredity itself.
Touching the first of the two consequences you say that 'variations below or away from the standard would not be balanced by those above, because the standard was reached by the selection of such an extremely minute fraction of all variations which occurred.' But can variations in the matter of increase or decrease take place in more than two directions, up or down, smaller and larger, better or worse? (Read Wallace, 'Darwinism,' pp. 143-4.)
I write this in view of the lecture you say you are going to give, because I do not know when 'Nature' will bring out my article.
March 20, 1890.
It might perhaps be well for you to read the type-written reply which I have prepared to Wallace's criticism on 'physiological selection.' But this is for you to consider. He has fallen into some errors of great carelessness, not only with regard to my paper, but also to that of Mr. Gulick, whose theory of 'segregate fecundity' is the same as mine. On this account I am able to upset the whole criticism, and, bottom upwards, to show that it really supports the theory.
I see 'Nature' of this week contains my letter on Panmixia, and hope it will define in your and other minds the outs and ins of the matter.
Please return the enclosed, which I send as a fact that may interest you.
To Professor J. C. Ewart.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: April 27, 1890.
As Ethel has already told you, I believe, we have taken a three years' lease of a charming old house, and let this one for a corresponding period. It is a very old house in Oxford, having been built by Cardinal Wolsey. It is immediately opposite Tom Tower of Christ Church, and full of old oak—walls, floors, and ceilings of the principal rooms being nothing else.
I do wish you could come up before we begin operations, to give us the benefit of your advice how so splendid an opportunity in the way of decoration should be utilised. We have to get out of this house, with all our furniture, on or before May 20. The children and servants will then go to Geanies, while my wife and I will go to Oxford to begin the decorations.
I am preparing my lectures on Darwinism for the press, so that they may be ready for publication on the last day of my course at Edinburgh in November. I suppose I have your permission to reproduce your R.S. pictures of electric organs? Also, could you send me for a day or two Haddon's book on Embryology?
I have just heard that Charles Lister (whom I think you met at Geanies) has died of fever in Brazil, where he was zoologising.
Yours ever sincerely,
Geo. J. Romanes.
The move was made from London to Oxford in May 1890. Mr. Romanes incorporated with the University and became a member of Christ Church. This connection with 'the House' was a great pleasure to him.
For a little while during the early summer of 1890 Mr. Romanes was alone in Oxford, and he writes:
To Mrs. Romanes.
I called to-day on Mr. Dodgson, to sign my name in the Common Room, and signed my name in the book where the signatures go back to the foundation of the House. It is certainly the best thing I could have done to join Christ Church, and I am enjoying this return to my undergraduate days as something quite novel. Yesterday Liddon[71] graced the high table with his company. He was particularly gracious to me, remembering all about our meeting years ago, and hoping to be allowed to have the pleasure of calling upon us when we were settled in the 'almshouse.'[72] After dinner in the Common Room, seeing that the party was both elderly and reverend, all the other six being parsons, I started what seemed to me a suitable game, viz. who could best 'card wool' in opposite directions, or turn the right hand round and round one way, while at the same time turning the left hand round and round the other way. This innocent occupation at once became very popular—the Canon in particular being greatly interested in the peculiar difficulty which it presents. For my own part, I much enjoyed the spectacle of all these dons winding their hands about, and this enjoyment reached its climax when Dr. Liddon ended by tilting his glass of claret off the table into his lap.
But there is a good deal of fun from behind his serious exterior, and he enjoyed this little catastrophe as much as the rest of us. So you see that the snares and temptations of University life do not dangerously assail your husband at the high table of Christ Church.
Yesterday we had our physiological picnic, starting in five boats, and taking tea on the river-bank near the old farmhouse. I took supper with the Sandersons, who had a party. The Victor Horsleys were at the picnic, and I have arranged that they will pay us a visit in October.
It is very jolly living in this house, but it is well we are both good sleepers, the noise of traffic is so great, even the foot-passengers sound like burglars.
But this will not affect the children in the other wing, and as for me, I could sleep if the carriages were driving through the rooms, with the burglars to boot.
I have only time to write a very few lines, as I am now momentarily expecting to be called on to give my exposition before the Physiological Society,[73] which has mustered in considerable force, and is now being regaled by Horsley[74] and Gotch[75] while I am watching my plants which are coming on next.
The dinner at Ch. Ch. yesterday was most enjoyable, though there were only four others besides myself at the high table. We had turtle soup and very good wine; is that good for gout?
St. Aldate's: July 1, 1890.
I have just come back from dinner. My next neighbour to-night was Liddon, and we had a long talk on the ethics of suicide regarded from the pre-Christian or purely 'secular' point of view.
I also improved the occasion in the interests of ——. It was clearly a new light to Liddon that —— should be so highly thought of by a man of science, and he appeared to have determined there and then to exert himself in getting a more suitable berth for 'a man now so greatly needed in the Church.'
Oxford.
Two bits of news. Dunstan[76] has a son and Liddon is seriously ill. Dr. John Ogle came yesterday afternoon from town to see him, and dined with us. There is great pain in the neck.
I lunched with the Sandersons, or rather with Mrs. Sanderson, as the Professor did not leave his room, but he is getting on very well.
Last night after dinner I looked in at the Poultons, and found them entertaining two Natural Science young ladies from Somerville Hall. A very agreeable party. Huxley is expected here this week. His article on 'Lux Mundi' is very characteristic.[77]
It would be very enjoyable to go with you to Ober Ammergau, but I am sure I ought not. First, I should not enjoy it half so much as you; second, it would double the expense; third, it would run away with all the time I want to give to the book. So in this case what is sauce for the goose is not sauce for the gander.
I wish I had some jokes to treasure up, but Oxford is not a joke-yielding place at present; Geanies must be jubilation itself compared with Oxford now.
I am the sole occupant of the laboratory as of the house. But I rather enjoy the exclusive privilege of my own company, save so far as it is relieved by guinea-pigs. I have written a letter to 'Nature' which will furnish a little joke for you on Friday next.
I am sorry to hear poor old Parker[78] is dead. You did not know him, but he was a real good fellow, and hearty friend to me.
I enjoyed my three days in London very much. Went twice to the theatre, and one of the plays was 'Judah.' Mr. H. A. Jones gave me a box. Saw a great deal of the Pollocks; met Scott,[79] who asked me to let him put me up for Royal Society Club; played chess with G. R. Turner.
I have now got to work on my plants and guinea-pigs.
To Professor Poulton.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: July 16, 1890.
My dear Poulton,—I went to the tennis ground yesterday week, but, as I expected, on account of the rain, found nobody there.
I now write to ask you if you would have any objection to my borrowing with acknowledgment figures from your book for mine, supposing the publishers also consent. In particular figs. 1, 2, 6, 10, 40, and 41.
Having now read the book,[80] I may say how greatly it has delighted me. The whole is a wonderful story, and I congratulate you on the large share which you have had in adding to this chapter of Darwinism.
There is only one point I am not quite clear about, viz. pp. 213-215. It is doubtless an advantage to the parasites that the caterpillars should warn them off as having been already 'occupied.' But would not this be rather a disadvantage to the caterpillars—i.e. to their species? For in this way, it seems to me, a greater number of caterpillars would become infested than would be the case in the absence of such warning. Or is there any point about it which I do not understand?
When is your next book coming out? I should like you to read my reply to Wallace before it does. Also my re-statement of physiological selection, with discussion on the principles of Segregation and Divergence. I hope the whole will be in type before November. Can you wait till then, or shall I send type-written MSS.?
Yours very sincerely,
George J. Romanes.
P.S.—Talking about hon. degrees the last time I saw you reminded me—but something again put it out of my head—that I had been wondering why Oxford or Cambridge does not offer one to F. Galton. Could you start a movement in that direction?...
I am getting so convinced about physiological selection, that I do not care what is said at random, or without understanding the theory.
Later in the autumn he writes:
To Mrs. Romanes.
I hope to find letters from Ober Ammergau when I return to Geanies, with a dozen bottles of sulphur water and several pounds of heather honey. Went yesterday to see a waterfall, which was wonderfully beautiful; on the way back met a pony with half a trap, and afterwards came on the other half with its previous occupants, Lord and Lady ——, cut about the face, but not seriously hurt. There is an awful row going on here in the Free Kirk, which bids fair to end in bloodshed locally, if not disruption generally.
I am so glad you do not repent going, and am longing to hear what you think of the play. I took Ethel and Ernest partridge-shooting, and had tea outside. The new hound, 'Dart,' has arrived. He is beautiful, and as gentle as a lamb with the children. This threw us off our guard, and at tea there was a horrible scene, ending in the murder of Sharpe.[81] The latter barked at him, and five minutes afterwards was a mangled misery. Have returned Dart with a civil note, for the sake of Norah and Jack,[82] the latter having only been saved by heroic measures on the part of Mytsie.
Later in the autumn he wrote:
To Mrs. Henry Pollock.
Geanies: October 9, 1890.
My dear Mentor,—The lyric is certainly very pretty, but I am still—and much—more touched by the unrhymed, and perhaps unconscious, poetry that accompanies it. We have, indeed, many associations with Geanies in common;[83] and as neither the joys nor the sorrows of them can ever return into our lives as they were when they arose, it is perhaps better that they should be kept in our memories as they now are, without being overlaid by future experiences in the same moods and the same cliffs by the same sea. 'The water that has passed' has been beautiful, even in its sadness; and however long the wheel of life may still have to go, I do not think it could have done better work for any of us than during the years that it has gone at Geanies.
With my philosophic love to both of you, ever the same,
Geo. J. Romanes.
My very dear Mentor,—You are quite too kind to me. The touching little present has just arrived, and I am smoking it now. It is just the kind that I like best. I wonder whether the vendor thought it was for yourself? Very many thanks.
Ethel sends her love, and tells me to ask you whether you want a copy of the photo group, where you do not look like a Mentor.
I enclose payment for the pipe in the form of sonnets—although I am sure they are not so sweet—and remain, with love to Marion,
Ever yours most sincerely,
Geo. J. Romanes.
This autumn Mr. Romanes delivered the last of his Edinburgh course of lectures. Giving the lectures had been a real pleasure, and he liked his Scotch students, who on their side were keenly appreciative and intelligent.
He was alone at Geanies for a few days before leaving for Edinburgh, and a letter written at this time shows for the first time a foreboding of failing health; but when the headaches left him the foreboding vanished, and there was no real idea of serious mischief.
To his Wife.
Geanies: November 1890.
I really have three of your dear letters to answer. I did not write yesterday. I have had one continuous headache; it is now nearly away, but the matter is getting serious, and I have written to Edward,[84] to send the 'home trainer' to Oxford, so that I may lose no time in giving his cure (exercise) a trial.
Don't get low about me; I begin to doubt if these headaches are due to gout at all, and somehow or other I shall find a means of preventing them.
I am sorry for myself, my work, and most of all for you; but we must take illness as it comes, and be glad it is no worse.
Geanies: October 31.
I will not disappoint you about the sonnet, which you expect to be in the vein of 'Weltschmerz,' and therefore send you the first of the series which I wrote in the small hours, after reading your favourite Psalm.[85] There was only one verse that remained appropriate to me, so I took it as a text.
The principal thing that has happened to-day is my having seen on the shore a sea otter. It was lying on a rock, and I came upon it at such close quarters I could have hit it with a stone. But it was so quick that I had not even time to fire my gun.
I may return the compliment as to letters. I did not intend to send the sonnet even to you when I wrote it, but afterwards thought I ought to have no secrets.
Fritz[86] and Ernest came out shooting. I am all right as to hitting;[87] and my head is perfectly well. Jack[88] has been very Jackish. I told him we were all going to leave Geanies. He said, 'Geanies belongs to us.' I answered, 'No, it belongs to the Murrays.' 'Part of it belongs to me,' he continued. 'How is that?' said I. 'Because I was born here.' What would Victor Horsley say to this for early appreciation of rights conferred by birth?
Ernest and Gerald are very happy. I allow them to play with the fire when they are with me, and this I find to be very popular.
To Mrs. Romanes.
Edinburgh: November 23, 1890.
My lectures are now concluded, and I took an affectionate farewell of the class amid much enthusiasm on their side.
There is no news to give. I play chess with Mrs. Butcher and read MSS. which Professor Butcher lends me of his own; pay many calls, have sundry talks with professors that come to dine with Ewart, and so on.
Yesterday we had here what at Cambridge used to be called a 'Perpendicular,' twenty students to supper. Mrs. Butcher and Miss Trench came in to help to entertain them; the latter sang Irish songs.
I am going to give an additional lecture to the class on the controversy in 'Nature.'[89]
I send you a report of my lecture, that you may see how orthodox I was. Sellar[90] was at the lecture, and told me that I reminded him of some professor at St. Andrews, who had told him as a fact that he (the St. Andrews professor) always made a point of alluding to Providence in an introductory lecture, and afterwards 'threw him aside!'
The sonnet alluded to in one of the letters (p. 265) is so beautiful that it is inserted here. It shows better than any words could do the attitude of George Romanes' mind. Profoundly sincere, anxious, almost unduly anxious, to give no indulgence to his own longings, to state to himself and to others unsparingly, unflinchingly, what appeared to him the as yet irrefutable arguments against the Faith, when he was alone he relaxed and poured out his inmost heart.
'I ask not for Thy love, O Lord: the days
Can never come when anguish shall atone.
Enough for me were but Thy pity shown,
To me as to the stricken sheep that strays,
With ceaseless cry for unforgotten ways—
O lead me back to pastures I have known,
Or find me in the wilderness alone,
And slay me, as the hand of mercy slays.
I ask not for Thy love; nor e'en so much
As for a hope on Thy dear breast to lie;
But be Thou still my shepherd—still with such
Compassion as may melt to such a cry;
That so I hear Thy feet, and feel Thy touch,
And dimly see Thy face ere yet I die.'
In November Mr. Romanes came formally into residence, and at first nothing could have been happier than his Oxford life.
He simply revelled in the facilities for work which the splendidly equipped laboratories afforded, and he once said, 'that the laboratory alone had made the move from London to Oxford worth while!'
He set to work on his book, 'Darwin, and after Darwin,' and on many experiments bearing on Professor Weismann's theories and on some other points.
He much wished to see established in Oxford what M. Giard has called an Institut transformiste, and wrote to many leading men of science on the subject. As yet the idea has come to nothing, but possibly it may be revived.
January 22, 1891.
My dear Poulton,—I am very sorry that, being already engaged for to-morrow, I cannot attend the meeting. But I should like to join the Society.[91] Only, please, postpone any suggestion about lecturing, as this term I shall be dreadfully busy, between the book and the experiments. H. has certainly been very successful over a very difficult experiment. I tried it in an elaborate way. But I lacked assistance for the mechanical performance, and so intended to do it here this term. Now I am saved the trouble, but have gained experience. This prevents me from regarding H.'s result as final, although, as you say, valuable. My scepticism is founded on a queer freak of heredity, which my own work showed me; but as I think I spoke too much about the experiments I was trying, in future I shall adopt Weismann's method of silence before publication.
Yours ever,
Geo. J. Romanes.
About this time Mr. Romanes was much interested in a scheme for promoting the establishment of a garden or farm for the purpose of studying questions of hereditary transmission, or heredity. His object was to afford facilities which at present do not exist for observing the modifications produced in animals and plants by subjecting them during long periods and in successive generations to suitable external conditions, and for testing the transmissibility of the modifications so produced. He was anxious that such an Institution should be founded in connection with one of the Universities, and with this view, circulated the following memorandum.
'AN INSTITUT TRANSFORMISTE.'
In an English translation of a lecture which was recently delivered by M. Giard, as Professor of Evolutionary Biology in France, there occurs the following passage:
'If evolutionists must content themselves in most cases with experiments carried on in nature, or those of breeders, instead of applying themselves to verifications made with all the rigour of modern scientific precision, is it not because of the deplorable insufficiency of our laboratories? It is astonishing that in no country, not even where science is held in greatest honour, does there yet exist an Institut transformiste devoted to the long and costly experiments now indispensable for the progress of evolutionary biology.'
That an institution of the kind in question would tend to promote the solution of problems in 'evolutionary biology,' it seems needless to argue. Many of the most desirable experiments in heredity and variation, for example, require such prolonged time and such constant attention, that it is practically impossible for individual workers to undertake them; and, therefore, as M. Giard observes, they have never been undertaken. But if there were an Institut transformiste to which material might be sent from any part of the world, with directions as to its treatment, biologists of all countries would be furnished with an opportunity of experimentally testing any ideas which might occur to them in regard to these or kindred matters.
Again, it seems needless to remark that England ought to be regarded as the natural territory of an establishment of this character; that the establishment itself should be situated in the vicinity of others which are already devoted to the study of morphology and physiology; and that sufficient land should belong to the Institut to admit of plots of ground being set apart for researches on plants, as well as buildings for the accommodation of animals.
In order to satisfy all these conditions, the Institut ought to be established either in Oxford or Cambridge; and at least, one skilled naturalist, one competent gardener, and one trustworthy keeper ought to be resident. This would involve an annual expenditure of between 300l. and 400l. But the capital sum which would have to be sunk in the purchase of land and the erection of buildings would not be considerable; because, in the first instance, at all events, two or three acres of ground would probably be sufficient; while the animal houses would be chiefly—if not exclusively—required for the accommodation of small mammalia, birds, insects, and aquatic organisms.
Nevertheless, seeing that an initial expenditure of at least 1,000l. would be needed for the purposes just mentioned, as well as an annual income of at least 400l., and seeing that even this much money is not likely to be forthcoming for objects of a purely scientific nature, the scheme on behalf of which we solicit your opinion is the following.
From inquiries which we have made here, we think it is probable that the University would take up the matter, or, at any rate, render important assistance thereto, if the Hebdomadal Council were satisfied as to the desirability of the project from a scientific point of view. It is on this account that we have ventured to address you upon the subject. The appended memorial is being sent, together with this circular letter, to all the other leading biologists in this country; and if you could see your way to signing the former, you would render additional weight to the body of authoritative opinion which it will eventually convey to the University.
One of the experiments Mr. Romanes tried in the summers of 1891-93 was as to whether animals completely isolated would reproduce the real sounds natural to their kind. In other words, whether these vocal sounds were due to imitation. Through the kindness of Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Romanes got the permission of the Trinity Brethren to try these experiments on lighthouses situated on lonely islands or rocks; he selected puppies, chickens, &c., but the results were not decisive. The puppies barked and the young cocks crowed, but Mr. Romanes was not able entirely to establish to his own satisfaction that the isolation had been complete.
Experiments were also carried on bearing on Heliotropism and on Seed Germination. Of these mention will be made later.
In the spring of 1891, he paid a visit to Paris and saw M. Pasteur and his laboratory, and also M. Brown-Séquard, in whose work he was specially interested.
And, apart from his work, Oxford and Oxford life were great sources of enjoyment. He made many new friends, and keenly enjoyed the institution, so characteristic of Oxford, of 'walks.'
Intimacies seemed to grow up quickly, and he often spoke of the extreme kindliness, the 'pleasantness' which marked Oxford society.
Of all the friends made in these four years, Mr. Romanes undoubtedly was most drawn to the Rev. Charles Gore.
It is very difficult, very often misleading and even impertinent to speak of what one man owes to another in the way of direct or indirect intellectual or spiritual help. But those few persons who really watched and could see the workings of George Romanes' mind, saw that these Oxford years were, even before the first beginnings of fatal illness, years of rapid growth in what perhaps may be termed spiritual perception.
In 1891 Mr. Gore's famous Bampton Lectures were preached. Mr. Romanes heard them all, and was intensely interested by them; he wrote many notes on them for his own private use, notes by no means always in agreement with them, and in his 'Thoughts on Religion' he refers to them.
Many of his older friends were clergymen, and he was once much amused by hearing that a scientific friend in London had said, 'How on earth will Romanes stand the clerical atmosphere of Oxford?' Another time, a very eminent scientific man asked him his opinion of Liberal High Churchmen, 'Do you really think these people believe what they say?' to which Mr. Romanes replied that he knew several pretty intimately, and he was sure they would all go to the stake on behalf of their Faith.
In the spring of 1891 Mr. Romanes was elected by the committee a member of the Athenæum Club. The Journal notes:
Pleasant dinners at Merton, Keble, &c. Visit from the Gills,[92] which we much enjoyed. Lord and Lady Compton, from the 6th to the 8th of June. He delighted us with his magnificent singing.
This summer, for the first time, Scotland and shooting were given up, and Mr. Romanes, accompanied by his wife and daughter, tried what the Engadine would do for his incessant headaches.
He enjoyed this tour, especially three weeks at Tarasp, in the lower Engadine, where he met his old friend Professor Joachim and also Professor Victor Carus. On the way back the Romanes stayed with Mr. H. Graham, M.P., at his lovely country home near Heidelberg, enjoying themselves much, but failing to see the famous ghost which is said to haunt the place. In the autumn, in spite of often-recurring headaches, he struggled on with his work and lectured in one or two provincial towns.
He says in one of his letters at this time: 'There is much excitement in Oxford to-day over the announcement that Paget is to be the new Dean of Christ Church. Of course we are greatly delighted. As he said to me to-day, 'We may now look forward to being close neighbours for not a few years to come.'
Journal, Nov., Birmingham Festival.—The 'Messiah' and Dvorak's 'Requiem,' Parry's 'Blest Pair of Sirens,' which one never hears too often. Went to Compton Wynyates, a splendid old house of temp. Henry VII. Only Lady Compton at home, but we much enjoyed our little visit. Went up to town and saw the Edmund Gosses and various other old friends. Saw Miss Rehan and her company in their last performance, 'A Last Word.' Poor play, but well acted.
It was during this autumn that Mr. Romanes resolved to found a lectureship at Oxford on the lines of the Rede Lectures at Cambridge, and after consulting various friends, chiefly the present Master of Pembroke,[93] the idea was submitted to the University and the offer was accepted. The preface, which is to be prefixed to the first volume of Lectures, gives the founder's ideas.
Founder's Preface.
The primary object of this Lectureship is to secure a perpetual series of discourses in the University of Oxford under the conditions laid down in the foregoing Statute. But seeing that these conditions are necessarily of a general character, I add the following suggestions with regard to certain matters of detail, in order that, as far as from time to time may seem expedient, the proceedings may be conducted in accordance with my wishes.
(1) I desire that the selection of lecturers be irrespective of nationality, and determined with reference either (a) to general eminence in art, literature, or science, or (b) to special claims for discussing any particular subject of high interest at the time.
(2) I deem it desirable that foreigners, otherwise eligible, should not be disqualified from receiving invitations to lecture merely because they may not be able to do so in English. And, in order to meet such cases, I suggest that the translated addresses should be delivered before the University by some competent reader (to be selected by the Vice-Chancellor) in the presence of their authors.
(3) I further suggest that the same method of delivery should be adopted in cases where age or infirmity would render the voice of the lecturer inaudible, or indistinct, to any portion of his audience. And I hope that neither age nor infirmity, any more than inability to speak the English language, will be deemed a hindrance to the issuing of invitations to the men of high distinction in their several departments. For, on the one hand, in order to have attained such distinction, it must often happen that such men will have attained old age, while, on the other hand, it is of more importance that they should be represented in these decennial volumes than that men of less eminence should be chosen in view of their superiority as lecturers.
G. J. Romanes.
To the great satisfaction of the whole University, Mr. Gladstone most generously consented to give the first lecture, which consent he signified in the following letter: