Part 11

In a very beautiful address before the students of the University of Edinburgh Sir William Osler opens with the words: “To man there has been published a triple gospel—of his soul, of his goods, of his body.” What is and what shall be the attitude of the Church toward the gospel of the body, toward the men who have given us this gospel? The question turns our thoughts at once to the leading and greatest exponent of this gospel, and backward to the early centuries of the Church before there had arisen any divorce between the study of nature and the matters of the spirit.

We are now in a process of readjustment between the issues of two lines of thought, which are almost as old as human history; between laws derived from nature which were discovered in the middle of the nineteenth century as to the origin of man, and traditional laws which when traced to their very beginnings we find to have been purely of human conception. Let us imagine our descendants three or four hundred years hence looking back on the spiritual and intellectual history of man; with larger perspective, they will separate these two grand thought-movements:

First, the Oriental movement, marked by Oriental lack of curiosity about natural law, a great moral and spiritual movement developing three thousand years before Christ along the Nile, the Tigris, and Euphrates, out of five thousand years of hard human experience, and expressed in Judea in the faith that nature is the continuous handiwork of God, in a supreme standard of righteousness, the moral duty being finally summed up in the single phrase, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” This was the spiritual redemption of man, which left the laws of his physical welfare unknown and uncared for.

The second movement begins six centuries before Christ in the inquiring mind of the West, which is always characterized by intense curiosity about nature. This movement is the search for natural law. Its rapid progress among the Greeks terminates with the fall of Greece. It is expressed in Cato’s reply to Scipio: “My wisdom consists in the fact that I follow Nature, the best of guides, as I would a God and am loyal to her commands.” After nineteen centuries it revives with Copernicus and Galileo and culminates in Darwin. Man is again perceived as a part of nature; in the study of nature man finds intellectual delight; in the laws of nature man finds his physical well-being; man through nature becomes the redeemer of physical man.

The Augustinian theology was imbued with a deeply theistic view of nature, a view which the modern Church professes but does not profoundly believe nor live by. As shown by Aubrey Moore, Augustine was entirely sound in counselling the entire separation of these two great lines of thought, the natural and the spiritual. “It very often happens,” says Augustine, “that there is some question as to the earth or the sky, or the other elements of this world ... respecting which one who is not a Christian has knowledge derived from most certain reasoning or observation [that is, a natural philosopher], and it is very disgraceful and mischievous and of all things to be carefully avoided, that a Christian, speaking of such matters as being according to the Christian Scriptures, should be heard by an unbeliever talking such nonsense that the unbeliever, perceiving him to be as wide from the mark as east from west, can hardly restrain himself from laughing.”

Augustine held what may be regarded as a pristine faith in nature as a manifestation of the divine. This pristine theistic view is founded on passages in Genesis, especially Genesis 2:15 and Genesis 3:19:

And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it. (Genesis 2:15.)

In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. (Genesis 3:19.)

These passages show that nature, typified by the garden, gives man his sustenance, and yet, as it has to be won by the sweat of the brow, man’s energy or art must work with nature. These passages, as Bishop Boyd-Carpenter observes in his inspiring studies of Dante, are also the foundation of the famous lines in the “Divine Comedy” in which the poet expresses the relation between the theistic view of nature and scientific or philosophical inquiry.

... He thus made reply: “Philosophy, to an attentive ear, Clearly points out, not in one part alone, How imitative Nature takes her course From the celestial Mind, and from its art: And where her laws the Stagirite unfolds, Not many leaves scann’d o’er, observing well, Thou shalt discover that your art on her Obsequious follows, as the learner treads In his instructor’s step; so that your art Deserves the name of second in descent From God. These two, if thou recall to mind Creation’s holy book, from the beginning Were the right source of life and excellence To humankind....”

The preceding is Cary’s version. Another version of this passage is that of Longfellow.

“Philosophy,” he said, “to him who heeds it, Noteth, not only in one place alone, After what manner Nature takes her course From Intellect Divine and from its art; And if thy Physics carefully thou notest, After not many pages shalt thou find, That this your art as far as possible Follows, as the disciple doth the master, So that your art is, as it were, God’s grandchild. From these two, if thou bringest to thy mind Genesis at the beginning, it behooves Mankind to gain their life, and to advance.”

As Bishop Boyd-Carpenter remarks, Virgil’s answer to Dante is to this effect: We learn from philosophy that the operations of nature proceed directly from God, and those of art indirectly, because art consists in the imitation of nature. (“Inferno,” XI, pp. 97–105, Longfellow’s translation.) Again, the Bible teaches us that it is by these two principles, nature and art, that the system of man’s life should be ordered. (“Inferno,” XI, pp. 106–108.)

If we are guided by the spirit of Augustine and of Dante we cannot fail to see that the Church has passed through a very critical period of scepticism as regards nature. This is perhaps an original view of scepticism, but there is no way of evading its application; if nature represents the wisdom and goodness of God, to be blind to its interpretation is a form of scepticism—devout and well-intentioned though it may be. Especially the Roman Church has been led away from its pristine faith in nature as a manifestation of the divine, while the Protestant Church, in consequence of this loss of faith during the nineteenth century, has suffered a loss of influence in the world which it will require a long period to regain. If the laws of nature are manifestations of the divine power and wisdom, as we proclaim in our services, the attitude of the Church toward these laws should not be hesitant, defensive, or apologetic, but active, receptive, and aggressive.

Considered in this way, the great scientific inquiry of the latter half of the nineteenth century, so far from being regarded as destructive, is a constructive, purifying and regenerating movement; it takes us back to the lost faith of our fathers, a faith which spiritualized the Old Testament, a faith which finds in nature a manifestation of the divine order of things. Pasteur showed the way to the physical redemption of man, as Newton had opened to us the new heavens and Darwin the new earth. If we were to rewrite the Litany in the twentieth century, for the passage, “From plague, pestilence, and famine, good Lord, deliver us,” we should read, “From ignorance of Thy Laws and disobedience of Thy Commands, good Lord, deliver us.”

From the standpoint of this older teaching of Augustine and Dante the life-work of Louis Pasteur was more than humanitarian, it was more than scientific; it was religious. He regarded natural processes which in their superficial view appear relentless, cruel, wholly inexplicable, as part of a possibly beneficent order of things; he again revealed through his profound insight, through his unparalleled toil, discouragement, and even scorn on the part of his contemporaries, deeper laws, which are beneficent, protective, and restorative in action. He was the evangelist of Osler’s “third gospel”: “And the third gospel, the gospel of his body, which brings man into relation with nature—a true evangelion, the glad tidings of a conquest beside which all others sink into insignificance—is the final conquest of nature, out of which has come man’s redemption of man....

“If in the memorable phrase of the Greek philosopher Prodicus, ‘that which benefits human life is God,’ we may see in this new gospel a link betwixt us and the crowning race of those who eye to eye shall look on knowledge, and in whose hand nature shall be an open book, an approach to the glorious day of which Shelley sings so gloriously:

Happiness And Science dawn though late upon the earth; Peace cheers the mind, health renovates the frame; Disease and pleasure cease to mingle here, Reason and passion cease to combat there, Whilst mind unfettered o’er the earth extends Its all-subduing energies, and wields The sceptre of a vast dominion there.”

Should we not institute a new order of sainthood for men like Pasteur? Could we find one more eminent for consecration, piety, and service in life and character than this devout investigator? Entrance to this order would be granted to those who through the study of Nature have extended the bounds of human knowledge, have bestowed incomparable blessings on the human race, have relieved human suffering, have saved or prolonged human life. Would not a statue of Louis Pasteur in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine proclaim the faith of the modern Church that the two great historic movements of Love and of Knowledge, of the spiritual and intellectual and the physical well-being of man, are harmonious parts of a single and eternal truth? On the base of such a statue might be inscribed the words written by Pasteur in the most perplexing period of his life:

“GOD GRANT THAT BY MY PERSEVERING LABORS I MAY BRING A LITTLE STONE TO THE FRAIL AND ILL-ASSURED EDIFICE OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THOSE DEEP MYSTERIES OF LIFE AND DEATH WHERE ALL OUR INTELLECTS HAVE SO LAMENTABLY FAILED.”

From a photograph by Gutekunst

JOSEPH LEIDY ]

JOSEPH LEIDY 1823–1891

Joseph Leidy may be known as the founder of vertebrate palæontology in America, since he followed the pioneers in this branch of science, in which America has become so famous, and since he was succeeded by Edward Drinker Cope and Othniel Marsh. Leidy and Cope were the very last representatives in America of the older school of naturalists and anatomists, who covered a very broad field. They both covered this field with consummate ability. In studying Leidy’s life we observe him as a master of detail, whereas Cope was a master of generalization. Their devotion to the École des Faits rendered most distinguished service to American science.

JOSEPH LEIDY, FOUNDER OF VERTEBRATE PALÆONTOLOGY IN AMERICA

I ask the indulgence of the members of this gathering in honor of Joseph Leidy and fellow workers in the fields of science if I present what I have to say in an informal manner, and I trust that you will not for a moment imagine that, because it is presented informally, I do not appreciate the honor conferred upon me in asking me to speak on this historic occasion in reference to a man for whom I have such great admiration as for Joseph Leidy. I shall not repeat except in a very general way the homage that was paid to Leidy in the series of important and penetrating addresses which we have listened to today, but I shall endeavor to present a summary, especially along the lines of palæontology and comparative anatomy, of some of the distinctive features of his work in comparison with those of the men who accompanied and immediately followed him, and to show what great results have come from his efforts as a pioneer and as a founder of this most interesting and fascinating branch of science in America.

Leidy started with an entirely new world of life; he soon learned that he could not base his study of American fossils on the work of French palæontologists, for the life of our western regions was not known in the Old World. Every specimen represented a new species or a new genus or a new family, and in some cases a new order. Never was there a greater opportunity than was offered to Leidy in this virgin field of our then virgin West. Never was a man more ready to grasp it than that quiet, unpretentious, unassuming, wonderfully gifted observer of nature. It is particularly interesting to review his work, which was written in the exact spirit of Cuvier, and to see his long record of direct observation of the entire extinct fauna not only of the eastern but, especially, of the great western territories. We find today how permanent that work was, how little we have to modify it, how well it stands the test of time, how accurate are his descriptions, how perfect his figures and illustrations, and how even today they form admirable standards for all the work that has been done since. After a continuous series of epoch-making papers and contributions which he was in the habit of contributing year after year, in meeting after meeting of the academy, he brought his initial work to a climax in 1869 when he published his great monograph, “Extinct Mammalian Fauna of Nebraska and Dakota.” That work still ranks in breadth and accuracy as the finest single contribution that has been made to vertebrate palæontology in this country, if not in the world.

Whereas in Leidy we had a man of the exact observer type, Cope was a man who loved speculation. If Leidy was the natural successor of Cuvier, Cope was the natural successor of Lamarck. Leidy, in his contributions to the academy, covered the whole world of nature, from the Protozoa and Infusoria up to man, and he lived as the last great naturalist in the world of the old type who was able by both capacity and training to cover the whole field of nature. Cope, in contrast, mastered—and this mastery in itself was a wonderful achievement—the entire domain of vertebrates from the fishes up. Marsh, with less breadth and less ability, nevertheless was a palæontologist of a very high order and had a genius for appreciating what might be called the most important thing in science. He always knew where to explore, where to seek the transition stages, and he never lost the opportunity to point out at the earliest possible moment the most significant fact to be discovered and disseminated.