From the point of view of subject-matter, structure, and style, Huxley's
essays are admirably adapted to the uses of the student in English. The
themes of the essays are two, education and science. In these two subjects
Huxley earnestly sought to arouse interest and to impart knowledge,
because he believed that intelligence in these matters is essential for
the advancement of the race in strength and morality. Both subjects,
therefore, should be valuable to the student. In education, certainly, he
should be interested, since it is his main occupation, if not his chief
concern. Essays like A Liberal Education and The Principal Subjects of
Education may suggest to him the meaning of all his work, and may suggest,
also, the things which it would be well for him to know; and, even more, a
consideration of these subjects may arouse him to a greater interest and
responsibility than he usually assumes toward his own mental equipment. Of
greater interest probably will be the subjects which deal with nature; for
the ways of nature are more nearly within the range of his real concerns
than are the wherefores of study. The story of the formation of a piece of
chalk, the substance which lies at the basis of all life, the habits of
sea animals, are all subjects the nature of which is akin to his own eager
interest in the world.
Undoubtedly the subjects about which Huxley writes will "appeal" to the
student; but it is in analysis that the real discipline lies. For analysis
Huxley's essays are excellent. They illustrate "the clear power of
exposition," and such power is, as Huxley wrote to Tyndall, the one
quality the people want,—exposition "so clear that they may think
they understand even if they don't." Huxley obtains that perfect clearness
in his own work by simple definition, by keeping steadily before his
audience his intention, and by making plain throughout his lecture a
well-defined organic structure. No X-ray machine is needful to make the
skeleton visible; it stands forth with the parts all nicely related and
compactly joined. In reference to structure, his son and biographer
writes, "He loved to visualize his object clearly. The framework of what
he wished to say would always be drawn out first." Professor Ray Lankester
also mentions Huxley's love of form. "He deals with form not only as a
mechanical engineer IN PARTIBUS (Huxley's own description of himself), but
also as an artist, a born lover of form, a character which others
recognize in him though he does not himself set it down in his analysis."
Huxley's own account of his efforts to shape his work is suggestive. "The
fact is that I have a great love and respect for my native tongue, and
take great pains to use it properly. Sometimes I write essays half-a-dozen
times before I can get them into proper shape; and I believe I become more
fastidious as I grow older." And, indeed, there is a marked difference in
firmness of structure between the earlier essays, such as On the
Educational Value of the Natural History Sciences, written, as Huxley
acknowledges, in great haste, and the later essays, such as A Liberal
Education and The Method of Scientific Investigation. To trace and to
define this difference will be most helpful to the student who is building
up a knowledge of structure for his own use.
According to Huxley's biographer in the Life and Letters of Thomas Henry
Huxley, the essays which represent him at his best are those published in
1868. They are A Piece of Chalk, A Liberal Education, and On the Physical
Basis of Life. In connection with the comment on these essays is the
following quotation which gives one interesting information as to Huxley's
method of obtaining a clear style:—
This lecture on A Piece of Chalk together with two others delivered this
year, seems to me to mark the maturing of his style into that mastery of
clear expression for which he deliberately labored, the saying exactly
what he meant, neither too much nor too little, without confusion and
without obscurity. Have something to say, and say it, was the Duke of
Wellington's theory of style; Huxley's was to say that which has to be
said in such language that you can stand cross-examination on each word.
Be clear, though you may be convicted of error. If you are clearly wrong,
you will run up against a fact sometime and get set right. If you shuffle
with your subject, and study chiefly to use language which will give a
loophole of escape either way, there is no hope for you.
This was the secret of his lucidity. In no one could Buffon's aphorism on
style find a better illustration, Le style c'est l'homme meme. In him
science and literature, too often divorced, were closely united; and
literature owes him a debt for importing into it so much of the highest
scientific habit of mind; for showing that truthfulness need not be bald,
and that real power lies more in exact accuracy than in luxuriance of
diction.
Huxley's own theory as to how clearness is to be obtained gets at the root
of the matter. "For my part, I venture to doubt the wisdom of attempting
to mould one's style by any other process than that of striving after the
clear and forcible expression of definite conceptions; in which process
the Glassian precept, first catch your definite conception, is probably
the most difficult to obey."
Perfect clearness, above every other quality of style, certainly is
characteristic of Huxley; but clearness alone does not make subject-matter
literature. In addition to this quality, Huxley's writing wins the reader
by the racy diction, the homely illustration, the plain, honest phrasing.
All these and other qualities bring one into an intimate relationship with
his subject. A man of vast technical learning, he is still so interested
in the relation of his facts to the problems of men that he is always able
to infuse life into the driest of subjects, in other words, to HUMANIZE
his knowledge; and in the estimation of Matthew Arnold, this is the true
work of the scholar, the highest mission of style.
