To Professor Romanes.

Hodeslea, June 3, 1892.

I should have written to you yesterday, but the book did not arrive till this morning.  Very many thanks for it.  It looks appetising, and I look forward to the next course.

As to the Oxford lecture, “Verily, thou almost persuadest me,” though I thought I had finished lecturing.  I really should like to do it; but I have a scruple about accepting an engagement of this important kind, which I might not be able to fulfil.

I am astonishingly restored, and have not had a trace of heart trouble for months.  But I am quite aware that I am, physically speaking, on good behaviour—­and maintain my condition only by taking an amount of care which is very distasteful to me.

Furthermore, my wife’s health is, I am sorry to say, extremely precarious.  She was very ill a fortnight ago, and to my very great regret, as well as hers, we are obliged to give up our intended visit to Balliol to-morrow.  She is quite unfit to travel, and I cannot leave her here alone for three days.

I think the state of affairs ought to be clear to the Vice-Chancellor.  If, in his judgment, it constitutes no hindrance, and he does me the honour to send the invitation, I shall accept it.

To the same:—­]

Hodeslea, June 7, 1892.

I am afraid that age hath not altogether cleared the spirit of mischief out of my blood; and there is something so piquant in the notion of my acting as substitute for Gladstone that I will be ready if necessity arises.

Of course I will keep absolutely clear of Theology.  But I have long had fermenting in my head, some notions about the relations of Ethics and Evolution (or rather the absence of such as are commonly supposed), which I think will be interesting to such an audience as I may expect.  “Without prejudice,” as the lawyers say, that is the sort of topic that occurs to me.

[To the same:—­]

Hodeslea, October 30, 1892.

I had to go to London in the middle of last week about the Gresham University business, and I trust I have put a very long nail into the coffin of that scheme.  For which good service you will forgive my delay in replying to your letter.  I read all about your show—­why not call it “George’s Gorgeous,” tout court?

I should think that there is no living man, who, on such an occasion, could intend and contrive to say so much and so well (in form) without ever rising above the level of antiquarian gossip.

My lecture would have been ready if the G.O.M. had failed you, but I am very glad to have six months’ respite, as I now shall be able to write and rewrite it to my heart’s content.

I will follow the Gladstonian precedent touching cap and gown—­but I trust the Vice-Chancellor will not ask me to take part in a “Church Parade” and read the lessons.  I couldn’t—­really.

As to the financial part of the business, to tell you the honest truth, I would much rather not be paid at all for a piece of work of this kind.  I am no more averse to turning an honest penny by my brains than any one else in the ordinary course of things—­quite the contrary; but this is not an ordinary occasion.  However, this is a pure matter of taste, and I do not want to set a precedent which might be inconvenient to other people—­so I agree to what you propose.