SOMETIME PROFESSORS
SIR,—What is there in the title of Professor which seems in some quarters so precious and in others to border on the ridiculous? Touching on the latter, one remembers mountebank illusionists, hypnotists, and in certain . cases, quacks in the market-place, who gave themselves this title and remained unchallenged. Quite recently, at a cattle fair, I listened to a not very erudite gentleman, complete with academicals, declaiming the virtues of a very doubtful cure for something or other. On •a canvas awning above him his Professorship was stated in large and colourful capitals, and his specific was bought, presumably, on the strength of that distinction.
These reflections were prompted by an editorial footnote to the letter headed " Mr. Low's Degrees " in The Spectator of February 12th. In this footnote I read that in strict observance the title of Professor ends when the holder relinquishes the Chair to which it is attached. What seemed the clinching and most apposite statement in the footnote was this: that " the distinguished scholar who was the Regius Professor at Oxford for twenty-eight years down to 1936, is today simple Doctor Gilbert Murray.'' This, it seems to me, puts Professorship in its due, proper, and dignified place. But The Spectator, still retaining its national trait of good humour, announces in the same issue—and on the very last page of that issue— that " Professor Gilbert Murray speaks on 'Real Peace This Time,' Central Hall, Westminster, Friday, February 26th, 7 p.m. Questions invited." So here is a question. Does it matter very much if professors still profess and are content to share the title for what it is worth with itinerant vendors and entertainers? Let us welcome entertainment where we find it.
Previous page
