those whom they delight to honour.

At first I thought I ought to continue the correspondence privately
with Mr. Darwin, and explain to him that his letter was insufficient,
but on reflection I felt that little good was likely to come of a
second letter, if what I had already written was not enough. I
therefore wrote to the Athenaeum and gave a condensed account of the
facts contained in the last ten or a dozen pages. My letter appeared
January 31, 1880. {50}

The accusation was a very grave one; it was made in a very public
place. I gave my name; I adduced the strongest prima facie grounds
for the acceptance of my statements; but there was no rejoinder, and
for the best of all reasons--that no rejoinder was possible.
Besides, what is the good of having a reputation for candour if one
may not stand upon it at a pinch? I never yet knew a person with an
especial reputation for candour without finding sooner or later that
he had developed it as animals develop their organs, through "sense
of need." Not only did Mr. Darwin remain perfectly quiet, but all
reviewers and litterateurs remained perfectly quiet also. It seemed-
-though I do not for a moment believe that this is so--as if public
opinion rather approved of what Mr. Darwin had done, and of his
silence than otherwise. I saw the "Life of Erasmus Darwin" more
frequently and more prominently advertised now than I had seen it
hitherto--perhaps in the hope of selling off the adulterated copies,
and being able to reprint the work with a corrected title page.
Presently I saw Professor Huxley hastening to the rescue with his
lecture on the coming of age of the "Origin of Species," and by May
it was easy for Professor Ray Lankester to imply that Mr. Darwin was
the greatest of living men. I have since noticed two or three other