To Thomas Archer Hist   8th. February 1858

8^th. February 1858

My dear Tom.

I cannot say that it is late, and still I am sleepy—very sleepy. I had no sleep last night, but thank the gods I have a prospect of it tonight. What need I more than those little notes of yours¹ to assure me that the old fire still burns. The consciousness of this is sufficient for me revived as it is by the little missives you send me from time to time. I have not written to you since I gave my Friday evening.² On that evening I was a weary broken down man, still the gods gave me power & utterance. I thought the lecture was not far from being a failure, but I received a flight of notes from my friends³ next day congratulating me upon its wonderful success. My great enemy is want of sleep, but I still hope to discover the conditions which shall secure it to me. I know that want of sleep is itself the result of a more remote cause, which I shall find out and annihilate some day. I have just got over three military examinations,⁴ and have sent today a short report to the generals constituting the committee of military education which will probably make them wish they had a more pliant examiner in my place. I saw Col. Wynne⁵ today—They are thinking of sending him out in command of an expedition to China.⁶ I hope the gods will frustrate this, it would be a terrible blow to poor M^rs. Wynne.⁷ Eddy⁸ was with me last night and enquired very affectionately after you. I think you will like my little paper⁹ when you see it in full, it is tidy, and sends at least one gross blunder to the devil. I had Debus with me a short time ago—he appears to be unhappy about your not writing to him. He is a great difficulty with me—He is so good—so worthy of being assisted, and still so difficult to assist. His want of language, and forgetfulness of the claims of the world, which in some circumstances would be charming, but which in London looks like a defect of character, make against him. Francis was with me today and brought me your little preparatory remarks to Poinsot’s paper.¹⁰ If you let me I will run my eye over them and perhaps alter a word here and there. My ordinary lectures¹¹ are going on satisfactorily, I make a little investigation of each and thus obtain considerable mastery over the subject. Every body is wonderfully kind to me. perhaps I am generalizing too quick—I mean really that I have a circle of friends who are good at heart towards me. Lying outside of these I have a number of friendly acquaintances. In short the world never treated a chap much better than it treats me. And still I feel that my strength lies, perhaps my very effect upon my friends lies, on the reliance upon inner principle rather than on outward support. This very kindness has caused me quite recently to make the resolution not to dine out any where for a month. I want to try the effect of this upon my health, and if I find it good I will extend the principle. Tomorrow I dine with a namesake of John Martin’s, namely Baron Martin,¹² and afterwards until the 10^th of March my dining out is at an end. It is a terrible invasion of a workings man’s time in London. On Friday last I was invited to meet Livingstone the African traveller.¹³ I found him a man full of sound practical sense. I sat beside a M^r Buckle, who has recently published a book that has caused very great sensations in London. A history of civilization in England.¹⁴ He is the literary lion of the day. His conversation is wonderfully energetic, and his voice at table generally masks all other voices. Soon after sitting down we had a little sparring as to the influence of moral agents in the culture and advancement of the world. After the ladies left the table our differences broke out into open war. It was thoroughly good humoured, but energetic in the extreme. He talked loud and I responded with corresponding vigour. All other voices at the table sank, and I could see from the earnest eyes and fixed facial muscles of the rest of the guests how much they felt interested in the issue. Once or twice I observed a smile break over the countenance of Livingstone when I charged my gallant antagonist, and this encouraged me a little. I saw both his position and my own with perfect clearness and thus on the main points I kept my footing secure, while my mind was sufficiently free to avail itself of the accidents that arose out of the discussion. He swept at me sometimes like a billow;¹⁵ he lifted me, but did not overwhelm me. I never lost my balance for an instant. After a time we both withdrew our forces with feelings of mutual respect. I trusted throughout to my practical acquaintance with the operations of my own mind, while he brought his vast store of acquired knowledge like battering rams into the field against me. This is the second great conflict that we have had, and from each I had the good fortune to escape with a whole skin. Now my dear Tom there is a sheet of gossip to amuse you: I think I have paid you very well for your little note.

Ever affectionately yours | John Tyndall

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