460 Jenyns's Memoir of Henslow . 



In 1822, Dr. Clark, the Cambridge Professor of Mineralogy, 

 died, having done much by the excellence of his lectures to 

 kindle an ardour for scientific pursuits. Mr. Henslow was his 

 temporary successor, although he had not completed his M.A. 

 degree. In 1825 the chair of Botany became vacant, and it 

 had long been the object of Mr. Henslow' s desire. Mr. Jenyns 

 tells us that the previous professor, Martin, was at the time of 

 his decease a very old man, who ceased to lecture, or even 

 reside at, the University. Sir James Edward Smith had indeed 

 offered to supply the deficiency in 1818, but the tutors of the 

 Colleges prevented his delivering lectures, " on the ground of 

 his being neither a member of the University nor a member of 

 the Church of England." " Darkness rather than light from 

 any candle but our own," was the motto of these distinguished 

 pedagogues, and, so far as botany was concerned, they remained 

 in the dark, till fortune sent them a teacher whose qualifications 

 they did not dispute. Except in the hands of a real man of 

 science, botany is apt to degenerate into the mere acquisition 

 of a multitude of hard words. An unfortunate vegetable, or 

 any of its parts, is treated to a nickname with which the pupil 

 does not associate the ghost of an idea; and the mind is no 

 more cultivated by the process than if the memory had been 

 burdened with an equal mimber of unexplained terms from the 

 extinct dialects of the Caribbean Sea. This vain pretence of 

 learning did not satisfy Mr. Henslow, who provided his pupils 

 with baskets filled with living plants, which he taught them to 

 dissect, and thus follow his expositions of their structure and 

 modes of growth. In the same spirit he made the botanical 

 examinations of the London University realities — not shams — in 

 which the real knowledge of the student could be tested, and 

 positive acquisition preferred to useless cram. Part of his 

 system, as a teacher, consisted in excursions to various dis- 

 tricts, which were attended by entomologists and others, as 

 well as by botanists — all being glad to avail themselves of the 

 Professor's extensive information, and his readiness to help all 

 who were in need. 



After being allowed to labour for many years in honourable 

 poverty, he was fortunate enough to obtain the living of Hitcham, 

 in Suffolk, worth more than £1000 a-year. Whether an honest 

 change to liberal opinions, and service to the Whigs, induced 

 Lord Melbourne to give him this preferment in 1837 does not 

 very clearly appear, but it opened for his energies a new sphere 

 of exertion, in which he laboured with great zeal and success, 

 continuing to perform the duties of his professorship all the 

 while. He found his new flock in a deplorable state, but not 

 worse than many agricultural districts were at that time, and 

 perhaps not worse than some still remain. A straggling street 



