.

Goethe had somewhat dimly prophesied the discovery of the Law of
Evolution, but his ideas on natural science were regarded by the schools
as quite on a par with those of Dante: neither was taken seriously.

Darwin proved his hypothesis. Doubtless, very many schoolmen would have
accepted the theory, but to admit that man was not created outright,
complete, and in his present form, or superior to it, seemed to evolve a
contradiction of the Mosaic account of Creation, and the breaking up of
Christianity. And these things done, many thought, would entail moral
chaos, destruction of private interests and moral confusion being one
and the same thing to those whose interests are involved. And so for
conscience' sake, Darwin was bitterly assailed and opposed.

Opportunity, which knocks many times at each man's door, rapped hard at
Huxley's door in Eighteen Hundred Sixty. It was at Oxford, at a meeting
of the British Association for the Advancement of Science: "A big
society with a slightly ironical name," once said Huxley. The audience
was large and fashionable, delegates being present from all parts of the
British Empire.

"The Origin of Species" had been published the year before, and tongues
were wagging. Darwin was not present; but Huxley, who was known to be a
personal friend of Darwin, was in his seat. The intent of the chairman
was to keep Darwin and his pestiferous book out of all the discussions:
Darwin was a good man to smother with silence.

But Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, in the course of a speech on
another subject began to run short of material, and so switched off upon
a theme which he had already exploited from the pulpit with marked
effect. All public speakers carry this boiler-plate matter for use in
time of stress.

The Bishop began to denounce "those enemies of the Church and Society
who make covert attacks upon the Bible in the name of Science." He
warmed to his theme, and by a specious series of misstatements and
various appeals to the prejudices of his audience worked the assemblage
up to a high pitch of hilarity and enthusiasm. Toward the close of his
speech he happened to spy Huxley seated near, and pointing a pudgy
finger at him, "begged to be informed if the learned gentleman was
really willing to be regarded as a descendant of a monkey?"

As the Bishop sat down, there was a wild burst of applause and much
laughter, but amid the din were calls, "Huxley! Huxley!" These shouts
incre