466 



SCIENCE 



[N. S. Vol. LIV. No. 1402 



cares to explore unless particular business 

 calls him. 



We are now awaiting the report of the recent 

 Government Commission, which visited Oxford 

 and Cambridge during the last year. As a re- 

 sult of the war, or perhaps we should say of 

 a necessary process hastened by the war, the 

 ancient universities need government support. 

 With support must go responsibility of a new 

 kind, and possibly some sort of unification of 

 the system. Is it possible that definite stand- 

 ards of equipment and teaching will eventually 

 be required, enforced through some process of 

 inspection? These are weighty matters for us 

 here in America, for in many places we stand 

 at the parting of the ways. The old freedom is 

 diiScult to maintain in the presence of a pop- 

 ulation requiring to be educated en masse. It 

 matters too much if things are badly or 

 vsTongly done. At all hazards, we must main- 

 tain our intellectual integrity, but we neces- 

 sarily sacrifice something of our independence. 

 Does that mean that the best minds will gradu- 

 ally be robbed of their originality, grown pre- 

 maturely inelastic and old? England, the 

 home of the independent worker, has pro- 

 duced more original thinkers than America, 

 whether we consider the sciences or the arts. 



There is another and opposite side to the pic- 

 ture. The strong individuality of the leading 

 English scientific men has had a profound in- 

 fluence on their colleagues, and this has been 

 accentuated by the smallness of the country 

 and consequent ease of communication. Pro- 

 fessor Alfred Newton, whose teaching in cer- 

 tain of its aspects seemed so amazingly inade- 

 quate, was a very center of light and learning 

 for an ardent group of ornithologists, through 

 whom his influence radiates to this day. His 

 " Dictionary of Birds " has no real competitor, 

 and is one of the indispensable books to stu- 

 dents of the subject. Throughout the Biog- 

 raphy, here and there, we find a note of half 

 regret that the Professor was so set in his ways, 

 so peculiar, so amazingly conservative. Yet 

 perhaps had he not developed freely in his own 

 manner, his power would not have been so 

 great. His old friend Dr. Guillemard thus 

 sums up his impressions: 



Such strength of individuality I can not recall 

 in any other person I have known. It can safely be 

 said that, having carefully envisaged his question 

 and decided it, no human power could make him 

 alter his mind. Yet one almost hesitates to say it, 

 lest a wrong impression should be conveyed, for he 

 was one of the most lovable of men, and inspired 

 an unusual degree of personal affection in the many 

 young men who frequented his rooms. The influence 

 he exercised upon them was remarkable, not only 

 upon the ornithologists, but upon men like Adam 

 Sedgwick, Bateson, frank Darwin, Lydekker, and 

 a host of others in different fields. It would, I 

 think, be correct to describe him as the founder of 

 the( modern Cambridge scientific school, developing 

 the good seed sown by Henslow, who was to a 

 former generation, I imagine, very much what New- 

 ton was to mine. 



The statement about the modern scientific 

 school applies of course only to the biological, 

 or more specifically zoological, field. Even in 

 the field of zoology Newton's knowledge was 

 quite limited, but it was extraordinarily exact. 

 His interest in birds was so wide that it led 

 him into various fields, as for instance that 

 of philology. Thus he combined what might 

 be considered narrowness with a remarkable 

 breadth of view, which undoubtedly added 

 greatly to his beneficial influence on his 

 students. 



Sir Arthur Shipley, who was a student under 

 Newton, gives a lively account of his lectures: 



Newton's lectures were desperately dry and very 

 formal. The Professor sat before a readiug desk 

 and read every word of the discourse from a writ- 

 ten manuscript, written in his minute hand with a 

 broad quill, so that all the letters looked the same, 

 like the Burmese script. At long intervals there 

 was drawn the outline of a tumbler. Whenever the 

 Professor came to these outlines he religiously took 

 a sip of water. Whether it was the time of day 

 [ 1 p. m.] or whether it was that we students were 

 all absorbed in comparative embryology and in 

 morphology, the attendance was always small. I 

 went during my second and third year, and at times 

 was the sole auditor. Not that that made the least 

 difference to the Professor. He steadily and relent- 

 lessly read on — " the majority of you now present 

 know, " " most of my audience are well aware, ' ' 

 and similar phrases left me in considerable doubt 



