Crossing the Atlantic in honor of Darwin and rejoicing in the privilege
of uniting in this celebration of his birth, we desire, first of all, to
render our tribute to the University of Cambridge....
What can we add to the chorus of appreciation of the great pupil of
Christ’s which has come from college, press and pulpit since the opening
of this anniversary year? Only a few words of _personal impression_.
To us, Darwin, more perhaps than any other naturalist, seems greatest in
the union of a high order of genius with rare simplicity and
transparency of thought. Dwelling on this lucid quality and on the vast
range of his observation from the most minute to the grandest relations
in nature, does not the image arise of a perfected optical instrument in
which all personal equation, aberration and refraction are eliminated
and through which, as it were, we gaze with a new vision into the
marvellous forms and processes of the living world? With this wondrous
lens our countrymen, Cope and Marsh, penetrated far deeper into fossil
life than their predecessor Joseph Leidy, and the arid deserts of the
Rocky Mountain region gave up their petrified dead as proofs of
Darwinism. Through its new powers Hyatt, Morse, Packard and Brooks saw
far more than their master Louis Agassiz and drew fresh testimonies of
development from the historic waters of New England. From the very end
of the new world, where the youthful Darwin received his first
impressions of the mutability of the forms of life, we enjoy a clearer
vision of the ancient life of Patagonia.
What of Darwin’s future influence?
While it is doubtful if human speculation about life can ever again be
so tangential as in our pre-Darwinian past of fifty years ago, it is
probable, in fact it is daily becoming more evident, that the destiny of
speculation is less the tangent than the maze—the maze of innumerable
lesser principles, with as many prophets calling to us to seek this
turning or that. There are those who in loyal advocacy of his system
feel that we shall not get much nearer to life than Darwin did, but this
is to abandon his progressive leadership, for if ever a master defined
the unknown and pointed the way of investigation, certainly it was
Darwin. In the wonderful round of addresses in his honor of this
Centennial Year and in the renewed critical study of his life and
writings, the recognition that Darwin opened the way has come to many
with the force of a fresh discovery. It is true that he left a system
and that he loved it as his own, but his forceful, self-unsparing and
suggestive criticism show that if he were living in these days of
Waagen, of Weismann, of Mendel and of De Vries, he would be in the front
line of inquiry, armed with matchless assemblage of fact, with
experiment and verification, and not least with incomparable candor and
good will. This bequest of a noble method is hardly less precious than
the immortal content of the “Origin of Species” itself.
[Illustration:
_From a photograph copyright by Elliott and Fry_
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY
]
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY
1825–1895
To the memory of Balfour and of Huxley, my chief teacher in
comparative anatomy, I dedicated my work, “The Age of Mammals.” Huxley
set forth the logic of Darwin as applied to palæontology. Only a few
men of the last century had the gift of speaking in clear language
both to the learned and unlearned, and the greatest of these was
Huxley. To write both for the man of one’s own profession and for the
layman, to be accurate and abreast of the specialist who knows a
subject as well as or better than you do, while intelligible to the
non-specialist—there is the difficulty. Many times have I thought how
simple it would be to address either audience separately. Yet I
consider it fortunate that both are with us, because I share Huxley’s
confidence in addressing those who are willing to do a little serious
thinking in order to enjoy the vast vistas of interesting truth which
come as the reward of effort. I share also his conviction that it is
the duty of the man of science to devote a certain part of his time,
however absorbed in research he may be, to an honest attempt to
scatter scientific truth.
During the winter of 1879–80 I attended Huxley’s full course of
lectures on Comparative Anatomy and Evolution, which were delivered in
the upper floor of the Royal College of Science. In “A Student’s
Reminiscences of Huxley” I especially attempt to describe personal
impressions which he made upon me as a lecturer and as a thinker and
to record some of the flashes of wit with which he enlivened his
lectures. Although intensely occupied at the time with a variety of
public education matters and with the pressure of literary and
scientific work, Huxley found time, chiefly in his home, to enter into
conversation on the subjects flooding his mind. It was there that I
heard some of the best stories here recorded.