I
Columbia University is celebrating the hundredth anniversary of the
birth of Darwin, the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of the
“Origin of Species.” In the year 1809 many illustrious men[3] were born,
among them Darwin and Lincoln, one hundred years ago today, February 12.
So widely different in their lives, Darwin and Lincoln were yet alike in
simplicity of character and of language, in love of truth, in abhorrence
of slavery, and especially in unconsciousness of their power. Both were
at a loss to understand their influence over other men. “I am nothing
and truth is everything,” once wrote Lincoln. In concluding his
autobiography Darwin wrote:
With such moderate abilities as I possess, it is truly surprising that
I should have influenced to a considerable extent the belief of
scientific men on some important points. My success as a man of
science has been determined as far as I can judge, by complex and
diversified mental qualities and conditions. Of these, the most
important have been the love of science, unbounded patience in long
reflecting over any subject, industry in observing and collecting
facts, a fair share of invention as well as of common sense.
Lincoln’s greatest single act was his death-blow to slavery. Man had
been fighting for centuries for freedom, in labor, in government, in
religion, and in mind. It is certainly notable that the final victory
for bodily liberty was won during the very years which witnessed the
final emancipation of the mind. I do not see that Darwin’s supreme
service to his fellow men was his demonstration of evolution—man could
have lived on quite as happily and perhaps more morally under the old
notion that he was specially made in the image of his Maker. Darwin’s
supreme service was that he won for man absolute freedom in the study of
the laws of nature; he literally fulfilled the saying of St. John, “Ye
shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
When we look back upon the very recent years of 1858–59, the years of
revolution, we see that we were far from free either to study nature or
reason about it. Our intellectual chains were from the forges of
theology both catholic and protestant. The Bible was read as a
revelation of physical law rather than as an epic of righteousness and
spiritual law. Theology while in power was itself in a most critical
position, in a _cul-de-sac_ of antagonism to reason and common sense,
and this despite the warnings of Augustine and of Bacon. As early as the
fifth century the wise theologian of Numidia had said:
Leave questions of the earth and the sky and the other elements of
this world to reasoning and observation. Perceiving that you are as
far from the truth as the east from the west the man of science will
scarce restrain his laughter.
Similarly, the great founder of the inductive method observed:
Do not excite the laughter of men of science through an absurd mixture
of matters human and divine. Do not commit the consummate folly of
building a system of natural philosophy on the first chapter of
Genesis or on the Book of Job.
It is difficult for the college student in this day of liberty, if not
of license, to realize that, in the words of Lowell:
We breathe cheaply in the common air thoughts that great hearts once
broke for.
When, in 1844, Darwin communicated to the botanist Hooker under promise
of secrecy his outline of evolution, he well knew the opprobrium it
would bring, for he subsequently added (1846):
When my notes are published I shall fall infinitely low in the opinion
of all _sound_ naturalists, so this is my prospect for the future.
From the borders of Poland in 1543, or just three centuries earlier,
Copernicus had published his “Revolutions of the Heavenly Bodies” and
thus fired the first shot in a three hundred years’ war for freedom to
observe nature. In 1611 the telescope of Galileo demonstrated the truth
of the Copernican law that the earth moves around the sun; and the most
impressive object today in Florence is the model of the finger of this
great astronomer as he held it up before the examiners of the
Inquisition, with the words, “It still moves.”
As time advanced the prison gave way to the milder but effective weapons
of ostracism and loss of position. In biology Linnæus, Buffon, Lamarck,
St. Hilaire, in turn discovered the evidences of evolution, but felt the
penalty and either recanted or suffered loss of position. The cause of
supernaturalism had never seemed stronger than in 1857; the masterly
works of Paley and Whewell had appeared; the great series of Bridgewater
Treatises to demonstrate the wisdom and goodness of God in the special
creation of adaptations had just been closed; men of rare ability,
Cuvier, Owen, Lyell and Agassiz, were on the side of special creation;
yet at the very time this whole system of natural philosophy was rotten
at the foundation because it was not the work of free observation.
Where his great predecessors Buffon and Lamarck had failed, Darwin won
through his unparalleled genius as an observer and reasoner, through the
absolutely irresistible force of the facts he had assembled and through
the simplicity of his presentation. Lacking the literary graces of his
grandfather, Erasmus Darwin, and the obscurity of Spencer, Darwin was
understood by every one as every one could understand Lincoln. It is
true the cause was immediately championed by able men, but victory was
gained not by the vehement and radical Haeckel nor yet by the masterly
fighter Huxley, but through the resistless power of the truth as Darwin
saw it and presented it. It was not a denial, as had been the great
sceptical movement of the end of the eighteenth century, but an
affirmation. Darwin was not destroying but building; yet at the time
good and honest men trembled as if passing through an earthquake, for in
the whole history of human thought there had been no such cataclysm.