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EMMA DARWIN
A CENTURY OF FAMILY LETTERS
1792-1896
CHAPTER XIV
1870—1871
The Descent of Man—Polly the Ur-hund—The Franco-German War—On keeping Sunday—Erasmus Darwin—The marriage of Henrietta Darwin—A wedding-gift from the Working Men's College.
IN January, 1870, I went to Cannes. Fanny Allen wrote to my mother: "It is marvellous to me, sitting by the fire rejoicing in the repose, to read of the rushing of the young to all points of the compass in such weather! But in reality at their age, if I had had their power, I should have done the same. I now only wonder at the progress of kindness and indulgence on the parents' part that aid their children in their natural tastes."
Whilst I was abroad the proof-sheets of The Descent of Man were sent out to me to read. My mother wrote to me of one of the chapters: "I think it will be very interesting, but that I shall dislike it very much as again putting God further off." To show how delightfully my father took any help his children gave him, I give two letters he wrote to me, although of course the praise is out of all proportion to the real value of my corrections for the press.
Charles Darwin to his daughter Henrietta.
Spring, 1870.
MY DEAR H.,
I have worked through (and it is hard work), half of the 2nd chapter on mind, and your corrections and suggestions are excellent. I have adopted the greater number, and I am sure that they are very great improvements. Some of the transpositions are most just. You have done me real service; but, by Jove, how hard you must have worked, and how thoroughly you have mastered my MS. I am pleased with this chapter now that it comes fresh to me.
Your affectionate, and admiring and obedient father,
C. D.
All this is as clear as daylight. Your plan of putting corrections saves me a world of trouble, by just as much as it must have caused you. N.B. You can write, I see, a perfectly clear hand, as in all the corrections.
Emma Darwin to her daughter Henrietta.
DOWN, Sat., Mar. 19 [1870].
… F. is wonderfully set up by London, but so absorbed about work and all sorts of things that I shall force him off somewhere before very long. F. Galton's experiments1 about rabbits (viz. injecting black rabbit's blood into grey and vice versa) are failing, which is a dreadful disappointment to them both. F. Galton said he was quite sick with anxiety till the rabbits'accouchements were over, and now one naughty creature ate up her infants and the other has perfectly commonplace ones. He wishes this experiment to be kept quite secret as he means to go on, and he thinks he shall be so laughed at, so don't mention. Poor Bobby is better to-day and has eaten a little. He looked so human, lying under a coat with his head on a pillow, and one just perceived the coat move a little bit over his tail if you spoke to him.
1 In Sir Francis Galton's Memories of My Life he explains that the experiments on rabbits above mentioned were made in order to test Charles Darwin's theory of Pangenesis; no effect in the breed was produced by the transfusion of blood. He wrote: "It was stonishing to see how quickly the rabbits recovered after the effect of the anæsthetic had passed away. It often happened that their spirits… were in no way dashed by an operation which only a few minutes before had changed nearly one-half of the blood that was in their bodies."
"Bob" was the half-bred Newfoundland who used to out on his "hot-house face"2 of despair when delayed in starting for his walk by my father's stopping to look at experiments in the hot-house. My dog, Polly, mentioned below, was a little rough-haired fox terrier. After her puppies had been made away with, my mother wrote: "Polly is so odd I might write a volume about her. I think she has taken it into her head that F. is a very big puppy. She is perfectly devoted to him ever since; will only stay with him and leaves the room whenever he does. She lies upon him whenever she can, and licks his hands so constantly as to be quite troublesome. I have to drag her away at night, and she yelps and squeaks some time in Anne's room before she makes up her mind to it."
2 See Life and Letters of C. D., 1 vol. edit., p. 70.
And later in the year: "Polly has had a great deal to suffer in her mind from the squirrels, and sits trembling in the window watching them by the hour going backwards and forwards from the walnut to the beds where they hide their treasures."
The following geological skit by Mr Huxley gives a characteristic sketch of Polly, with her weak points a little exaggerated, for she was more remarkable for beauty of character than form.
Emma Darwin to her aunt Fanny Allen.
BASSET, SOUTHAMPTON [Aug., 1870].
We are very
comfortable here with William in his little villa, which is
cheerful though cockneyish.… We talk and read of nothing
but the war. I think L. Napoleon's fate might make a tragedy if
he was not such a prosaic character himself. I can't help hoping
that when he is kicked out—which must happen
soon—Prussia may be persuaded to make peace. What an
enormous collapse it is of a nation tumbling headlong into such a
war, without a notion of what the enemy was capable of. Leo tells
us that almost all the Woolwich young men are "French," tho' he
owns it is chiefly because they long for war, and they think that
more likely if France wins. Leo himself is a staunch Prussian.
Charles is very comf. here, and manages to be idle, and gets
through the day with short walks and rides. I have been reading
Lanfrey's memoirs of Napoleon I. It is refreshing to read a
Frenchman's book who cares nothing for la gloire, and it makes
one ashamed of Louis Philippe for giving in to such baseness as
bringing the body from St Helena and making a sort of saint of
him. I should like to know what impression the book makes in
France. Some people (F. Galton) are of opinion that truth or
falsehood in a nation is merely a question of geography, and that
the nations who have not got the article do pretty well without
it. I think France shows the contrary. There is no national value
for truth, and Napoleon I employed the most elaborate system of
lies by means of Fouché to gain his ends—the letters
are now extant.…
Fanny Allen to her great-niece Henrietta Darwin.
HEYWOOD, TENBY, Dec. 8th [1870].
I must send you a barren letter, my dear Henrietta, except of love, to thank you for your most pleasant letter of last week. A visit from you would give me pure joy whenever the time comes that you have leisure; and that you have an inclination to come fills me with gratitude and even some surprise, as age is not attractive, as the old song goes, "crabbed age and youth"—and yet I am checked by the recollection of the reception and pleasant time (too short) that I passed at Down this autumn. [What harm] la gloire has done to poor France. I can scarcely bear to read her disasters, and it makes me hate the Germans, who are wallowing in her slaughter. Oh, that a chasse-pôt could hit Bismarck.…
I am surprised also, as you, at Snow's "low view" of the Eastern Q., now happily settled; she has been led astray, as Lord Palmerston says so many are, by analogies. I believe I should be with her as to private engagements, that is between man and woman, which stands on a different footing to that of all other, because the fulfilment might cause the misery of the two. Francis Homer, who was called "Cato" by his intimates, maintained that that engagement should also be considered inviolate—but between nation and nation I should have thought no one could have doubted.
God bless you, my dear Henrietta.
My warmest of loves for the "beloved Emma," whom you have the pleasure of calling mother, and to your daddy respectfully, and love to Bessy.
Affectionately yours,
FRANS. ALLEN.
In the years when we were growing up, I believe my mother was often puzzled as to what rules to make about keeping Sunday. I remember she persuaded me to refuse any invitation from the neighbours that involved using the carriage on that day, and it was a question in her own mind whether she might rightly embroider, knit, or play patience. The following was found amongst her papers: On the side of abstaining from what other people think wrong, tho' you do not. On the side of doing as you think right, without considering the opinion of others. The fear of loosening their hold on the sanctions of religion with respect to what is really wrong. The sincerity of showing yourself as you really are. The real good it would do the world not to have artificial sins. They probably do not separate the breaking of the ceremonial observances of Sunday from real sins. Your opinion that England would be morally the better for some amusements on Sunday.
Whether the servants know you as you are and do not take your opinions as any guide for theirs — whether they learn toleration in short. All this only applies to my own doings, as I do not feel at all sure enough in any way to interfere with the pleasures of sons of the age of mine.
Emma Darwin to her aunt Fanny Allen.
DOWN, Thursday [Feb., 1871].
… I feel a constantly recurring sense of relief that the war is over. We hear of French families returning at once. They say poor Mme. Tourgenieff is in great despair at the end of everything.
I came to high words with one of our guests, a German. He seemed very sore at the general feeling in England for France. However, we each spit our spite, and then made peace.…
Charles Darwin to his daughter Henrietta.
DOWN, March 28, 1871.
MY DEAR HENRIETTA,
I do not know whether you have been told that Murray reprinted 2,000 [of The Descent of Man], making the edition 4,500, and I shall receive £1,470 for it. That is a fine big sum. The corrections were £128!! Altogether the book, I think, as yet, has been very successful, and I have been hardly at all abused. Several reviewers speak of the lucid, vigorous style, etc. Now I know how much I owe to you in this respect, which includes arrangement, not to mention still more important aids in the reasoning. Therefore I wish to give you some little memorial, costing about 25 or £30, to keep in memory of the book, over which you took such immense trouble. I have consulted Mamma, but we cannot think what you would like, and she, with her accustomed wisdom, advised me to lay the case before you and let you decide how you like.
I have been greatly interested by the second article in the Spectator, and by Wallace's long article in the Academy. I see I have had no influence on him, and his Review has had hardly any on me.
We go to London on April 1st for a few days in order that I may visit and consult Rejlander about Photographs on Expression. I think I shall make an interesting little vol. on the subject. By the way I have had hardly any letters about the Descent worth keeping for you, excepting one from a Welshman, abusing me as an old Ape with a hairy face and thick skull. We shall be heartily glad to see you home again. Good-bye, my very dear coadjutor and fellow-labourer.
Your affectionate Father,
CH. DARWIN.
Erasmus Darwin to his niece Henrietta Darwin.
[6, QUEEN ANNE STREET, March, 1871.]
DEAR HENRIETTE,
I was thinking of sending a scolding card when your note pacified me. Your news is not very cheerful, everyone ill, and I hope London will have a good effect upon your constitutions. Olivier has not as yet sent his remedies [concert tickets].
I have been reading Wallace in the Academy,1 and it seems to me there is a good deal to answer in it if possible. I think the way he carries on controversy is perfectly beautiful, and in future histories of science the WallaceDarwin episode will form one of the few bright points among rival claimants.…
1 A review of The Descent of Man.
Erasmus Darwin to his niece Henrietta Darwin.
[6, QUEEN ANNE STREET, April, 1871.]
DEAR HENRIETTE,
I enclose you Lady Bell's note, and you will see that yours was not thrown away. I ought to have sent it before, but have been rather sick and miserable, and paper and envelopes are very lowering to the system.
The world looks very black, for after Monday next there won't be a single day without its pleasure, what with the Royal Academy and what with the International.
It is quite refreshing to think of you and Hope, immersed in Geometry and indifferent to the cares of poor, weak mortals. E. A. D.
In June, 1871, I became engaged to Mr. R. B. Litchfield.
Emma Darwin to her sister Elizabeth Wedgwood.
HAREDENE, ALBUEY, GUILDFORD, Sunday [July, 1871].
We were thankful to have Henrietta as courier for the last time, as Charles was so giddy and bad at Croydon I could not leave him. When we got out at Gomshall, Esther, who was in another carriage with the kittens, was not forthcoming, as her part of the train had been detached at Red Hill and she had gone off into space. But she managed well, got out at Tunbridge, and she and the kittens appeared about 6 o'clock very jolly, as if they had done a fine thing.
I was married on the 31st August, and the following letters are to me on my wedding tour:
Charles Darwin to his daughter Henrietta Litchfield.
DOWN, Sept. 4, 1871.
MY DEAREST ETTY,
I must write to say how much your nice and affectionate letter from Dover has pleased me. From your earliest years you have given me so much pleasure and happiness that you well deserve all the happiness that is possible in return; and I do believe that you are in the right way for obtaining it. I was a favourite of yours before the time when you can remember. How well I can call to mind how proud I was when at Shrewsbury, after an absence of a week or fortnight, you would come and sit on my knee, and there you sat for a long time, looking as solemn as a little judge.—Well, it is an awful and astounding fact that you are married; and I shall miss you sadly. But there is no help for that, and I have had my day and a happy life, notwithstanding my stomach; and this I owe almost entirely to our dear old mother, who, as you know well, is as good as twice refined gold. Keep her as an example before your eyes, and then Litchfield will in future years worship and not only love you, as I worship our dear old mother. Farewell, my dear Etty. I shall not look at you as a really married woman until you are in your own house. It is the furniture which does the job. Farewell,
Your affectionate Father,
CHARLES DARWIN.
Emma Darwin to her daughter Henrietta Litchfield.
Tuesday Evening [Sept., 1871].
MY DEAREST BODY,
It is very pleasant to feel well again after my three days' poorliness, and I can't think what took me. It was not good Mr and Mrs Rowland, as F. of course put it down to (tho' he is dreadfully deaf).… If I don't get my head turned amongst you all it will be a wonder; but I feel it like F. making me out to be so very ill always, only a proof of his affection, and therefore he does not succeed in making me think myself so very sick or so very good. On Monday night Horace came very jolly and well. He has been down to the Venerable P.,1 who is still bad (send him some message, for I think your wedding finished him up). Poor little Cinder [kitten] has been lost for two days. It caused a burst of indignation thro' the house; Jane was sure she was starved, Mrs Tasker turned her out at night, etc. However, she was found safe at John Lewis's; and now the evil tongue takes another direction, viz. that the L.'s meant to keep her, and so did not tell when enquiries were made.…
1 Parslow, the old butler, thus incorrectly nicknamed from the Aged P. in Great Expectations.
Wednesday morning. Jane is in bed with lumbago and fainting, and I am sure is in for an illness, but Mrs Evans thinks it a capital joke and does all the work.… The B.'s [called] on Friday—Mrs B. found it almost too tiresome to ask anything about your marriage, so I soon spared her and got on her own affairs, and I like her in spite of manners.
Emma Darwin to her daughter Henrietta Litchfield.
Sunday Evening [Sept., 1871].
…Leo has been going over the Joch pass and the Aletsch glacier, sleeping at a hut 10,000 feet above the sea. I suppose boys enjoy such things, but I should have thought it horrid, such a piercing high wind, he could not stop a minute to look about him.
I am taking to some of the St Beuve Causeries, and find them very pleasant, especially anything about the time of Louis XIV always amuses me.… Mr —— and A. called. A. never knows when to have done with anything. She got upon St Moritz and was quite endless. Now nobody can say that of me.
The following letters refer to a delightful welcome the Working Men's College gave to us on our return. My husband was one of the Founders, and had worked there ever since its foundation with continuous zeal. The wedding gift of the College, a picture by Maccallum, was presented to us, and F. D. Maurice made the speech of the evening.
Charles Darwin to his daughter Henrietta Litchfield.
November, 1871.
MY DEAREST ETTY,
We were all so rejoiced yesterday; and what a very good girl you were to write us so long a letter. We have been all profoundly interested and touched by your account. Pray tell Litchfield how much I have been pleased, and more than pleased, by what he said about me. When the address and your letter had been read the first thought which passed through my mind was "What a grand career he has run,"—but I hope his career is very far from finished. I congratulate you with all my heart at having so noble a husband. What an admirable address, and how well written. Even YOU, Miss Rhadamanthus,1 could not have improved a word. It is as superior to all ordinary addresses, as one of the old Buccaneer voyages are to modern travels. Good-bye, dearest; keep quiet. Good-bye.
Yours affect.,
C. DARWIN.
1 Rhadamanthus Minor was a nickname Mr Huxley gave me.
Charles Darwin to his son Horace.
6, QUEEN ANNE STREET, Friday Morning, 8.30 A.M. [Dec. 15, 1871].
MY DEAR HORACE,
We are so rejoiced, for we have just had a card from that good George in Cambridge saying that you are all right and safe through the accursed Little Go. I am so glad, and now you can follow the bent of your talents and work as hard at Mathematics and Science as your health will permit. I have been speculating last night what makes a man a discoverer of undiscovered things; and a most perplexing problem it is. Many men who are very clever—much cleverer than the discoverers—never originate anything. As far as I can conjecture the art consists in habitually searching for the causes and meaning of everything which occurs. This implies sharp observation, and requires as much knowledge as possible of the subject investigated. But why I write all this now I hardly know—except out of the fulness of my heart; for I do rejoice heartily that you have passed this Charybdis.
Your affectionate Father,
C. DARWIN.
