Essays on Life, Art and Science | Page 5

variations occur mainly as the result of effort and
design; the opposite view, which is that advocated by Mr. Wallace in
"Darwinism," is that the variations occur merely as the result of chance.
The former is sometimes called the theological view, because it
recognises the presence in organic nature of design, whether it be called
creative power, directive force, directivity, or vital principle; the latter
view, in which the existence of design is absolutely negatived, is now
usually described as Weismannism, from the name of the writer who
has been its principal advocate in recent years.
In conclusion, I must thank my friend Mr. Henry Festing Jones most
warmly for the invaluable assistance which he has given me in
preparing these essays for publication, in correcting the proofs, and in
compiling the introduction and notes.
R. A. STREATFEILD.

QUIS DESIDERIO . . . ? {1}

Like Mr. Wilkie Collins, I, too, have been asked to lay some of my
literary experiences before the readers of the Universal Review. It
occurred to me that the Review must be indeed universal before it
could open its pages to one so obscure as myself; but, nothing daunted
by the distinguished company among which I was for the first time
asked to move, I resolved to do as I was told, and went to the British
Museum to see what books I had written. Having refreshed my memory
by a glance at the catalogue, I was about to try and diminish the large
and ever-increasing circle of my non-readers when I became aware of a

calamity that brought me to a standstill, and indeed bids fair, so far as I
can see at present, to put an end to my literary existence altogether.
I should explain that I cannot write unless I have a sloping desk, and
the reading-room of the British Museum, where alone I can compose
freely, is unprovided with sloping desks. Like every other organism, if I
cannot get exactly what I want I make shift with the next thing to it;
true, there are no desks in the reading-room, but, as I once heard a
visitor from the country say, "it contains a large number of very
interesting works." I know it was not right, and hope the Museum
authorities will not be severe upon me if any of them reads this
confession; but I wanted a desk, and set myself to consider which of the
many very interesting works which a grateful nation places at the
disposal of its would-be authors was best suited for my purpose.
For mere reading I suppose one book is pretty much as good as another;
but the choice of a desk-book is a more serious matter. It must be
neither too thick nor too thin; it must be large enough to make a
substantial support; it must be strongly bound so as not to yield or give;
it must not be too troublesome to carry backwards and forwards; and it
must live on shelf C, D, or E, so that there need be no stooping or
reaching too high. These are the conditions which a really good book
must fulfil; simple, however, as they are, it is surprising how few
volumes comply with them satisfactorily; moreover, being perhaps too
sensitively conscientious, I allowed another consideration to influence
me, and was sincerely anxious not to take a book which would be in
constant use for reference by readers, more especially as, if I did this, I
might find myself disturbed by the officials.
For weeks I made experiments upon sundry poetical and philosophical
works, whose names I have forgotten, but could not succeed in finding
my ideal desk, until at length, more by luck than cunning, I happened to
light upon Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians," which I had no sooner
tried than I discovered it to be the very perfection and ne plus ultra of
everything that a book should be. It lived in Case No. 2008, and I
accordingly took at once to sitting in Row B, where for the last dozen
years or so I have sat ever since.
The first thing I have done whenever I went to the Museum has been to
take down Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians" and carry it to my seat.
It is not the custom of modern writers to refer to the works to which

they are most deeply indebted, and I have never, that I remember,
mentioned it by name before; but it is to this book alone that I have
looked for support during many years of literary labour, and it is round
this to me invaluable volume that all my own have page by page grown
up. There is none in the Museum to which I have been under anything
like