To Joseph Dalton Hooker   28th, April, 1857.

28th, April, 1857.

My dear Hooker

A certain class of philosophers to whom for some years I lent a willing ear, and from whom I really derived a great deal of benefit, are in the habit of urging their disciples to cultivate the virtues of the Stoic,¹ to draw upon their own inner resources and to render themselves independent of external influences. I never, I confess, even when I admired it most, could find myself completely at home in this creed. The hand of a friend, the laugh of a child, not to say anything of the ‘rare and radiant maidens’² were always sources of happiness to me, and so far therefore my happiness was of external origin. Afterwards I began to see that this was natural, and that it was a truer philosophy to conform to nature than to stifle and pervert her by stoicism however noble and selfdenying it might appear. I confess therefore to the pleasure which your kind, and hospitable, and admonitory and inculpatory little note³ gave me. But really this time I am not quite so much to blame. I was well on Saturday—very well—but I happened to be lightly clad and the bitter east wind sought out my soft points and smote me. It was this and not hard work that laid me low. But I am up again like the giant Antaeus,⁴ filled with new strength from the contact with my mother earth. If you knew how tough I used to be; what an amount of physical labour I was capable of going through, what I endured in the mental line during my stay in Germany, you would not wonder at my discontent to find myself staggering under burdens which seven short years ago I should have shaken from me as the apostles⁵ did the dust from their sandalled feet whenever a village refused them grub and lodging. But our lectures are wearying—my head is never out of school, and the work, though really light, has something anxious and straining about it which renders it far more trying than the hardest original thought. I have been trying to shorten it, and hope this may be accomplished. Think of two years of dyspepsia,⁶ nightmare, flatulency and blue devils,⁷ being inflicted on Frankland by the last course of lectures he gave here!⁸ If I feel it needful I will really shelter myself under your friendly roof: at all events I will swoop down upon you sometimes for a dinner. I know I am haggard and that my spirit often writes its weariness in my face, but come to the Mer de Glace⁹ with me this year and you will cause my face to shine. Send Willy¹⁰ a kiss from me: kindest remembrances to Mrs Hooker when you write and believe me always

J Tyndall.

RI MS JT/1/TYP/8/2546

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