by
Yale University Press, 1998
Reviewed by
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Review
Our history is full of ghosts. In contemporary classrooms, names often float by like wisps of fog, soon to be forgotten. Better to remember the facts of the discoveries than the names of the discoverers. There are heroes, of course - names that establish a more substantial presence. These are often mired in controversy of one kind or another, or they belong to those who stacked the layers of facts and bound them into a coherent, new idea. But there was once a hero of another kind, one who avoided controversy and the convenient packaging of ideas, but who continued to add observation after observation to our stockpile of knowledge. This was Joseph Leidy (1823-1891). Sadly, for most of us he remains a ghost.
Leonard Warren's recent biography of Leidy, subtitled "The Last Man Who Knew Everything," is an entertaining look back at a very different time in the history of science. Philadelphia, Leidy's birthplace, was in his lifetime turning from a provincial city into an industrial one, although one that trailed New York in stature. It was in Philadelphia that Leidy immersed himself in the study of nature and science, and where he would eventually teach at the University of Pennsylvania. Keenly interested in all things, he attacked subjects with a rare mixture of fervor and patience. Between the age of amateur science, with its avocational poking and prodding of nature, and the age of modern experimentation came the age of description, during which hardly anyone could match Leidy in ability or range of expertise.
He was acclaimed for his knowledge of human anatomy, parasitology, vertebrate paleontology, and mineralogy, among other areas. For example, he was one of the first to identify the cause of trichinosis in humans. With the aid of a tool relatively new to American science, the microscope, he spotted the species of parasitic worm, Trichina
, that infects both pigs and the humans who eat their undercooked flesh. Sadly, through ignorance and misidentifications by others, he was denied credit. "The important thing," Leidy would say, "is that the discovery or fact should be known. It is of little consequence who made it." This is hardly a sentiment you will hear echoed in the halls of any modern research institution.
Leidy's discoveries in vertebrate paleontology followed a similar course. Routinely, specimens from the new Western frontier arrived on his desk. Among them were the first North American dinosaur bones to come to the attention of science. Calling his work "playing with bones," Leidy described several dinosaurian species. Among these were Troodon, a small carnivorous dinosaur, and Trachodon and Hadrosaurus, two duckbilled dinosaurs. But, as with Trichina, something unpleasant shadowed his studies.
By the 1870s, two rivals for the paleontological treasures, O.C. Marsh of Yale University and Leidy's fellow Philadelphian E.D. Cope, had amassed, through influence and inheritance, the financial resources to purchase any new fossil discovery made out West. This, in turn, padded their already inflated stature in the rather barren field of North American science. Leidy could not compete. "Remaining in the field of paleontology," Warren writes, "would have meant a ferocious battle with two superb, ambitious, aggressive paleontologists. . . . Leidy fled the turmoil to his beloved microscope and confined himself to protozoa and small organisms."
He used his microscope, his "first love," in all his investigations of nature and man. In the 1850s the microscope was still underutilized in medicine, and to some skeptics its usefulness remained uncertain. Leidy, however, was one of the first to use it to examine the various organs of vertebrates, producing voluminous descriptions and masterful illustrations. Using this same tool, he was one of the first to wade into forensic medicine, helping officials identify a suspect in an ax murder. The suspect claimed the blood on the ax was from chickens, but Leidy determined that the blood could not be avian. The suspect soon confessed.
Leidy was humble, thorough, and patient. Toward the end of his life, his encyclopedic knowledge was widely known. But by this same time, the next age in physical science was becoming apparent. The old guard devoted to description was giving way to new scientists devoted to experimentation. Leidy's devotion to seeking facts and his avoidance of the populist theorists of his day, as well as the diffuseness of his interests, are undoubtedly responsible for his present ghostly status in the history of science.
Many of Leidy's early descriptions are still used in, for example, vertebrate paleontology. But it's unlikely that many of today's dinosaur hunters are aware of his work in parasitology. The reverse is probably also true: how many modern parasitologists know of Leidy's contributions to vertebrate paleontology? It seems that in science, it is the synthesizers of facts, theories, and controversies who get most of the attention and respect. Yet Leidy contributed so much to our present understanding of the biological world, not just in one specialized field but in a wide range of them, that it seems almost criminal to forget his efforts.
To Leidy, it was imperative to acknowledge the intricacies of our present-day surroundings as well as those of the Earth's past. Warren quotes his view: "The sciences, including natural history, have appeared to be of the utmost importance to the welfare and happiness of mankind, and no other branches of knowledge can equal them in this relation."
Acknowledging, as Warren has done, those who provided so much of our early knowledge is equally imperative to understanding the path we now follow. As a classic exemplar of a man and an era in the earliest years of professional science in North America, Leidy offered broad shoulders for others to stand on. In this age of fractionalization of science into disciplines, subdisciplines, and specializations, it is a rare pleasure to encounter a man of Leidy's breadth of knowledge and personal character, a man who "knew everything" and was willing to share it without scrounging for credit.
Tim Tokaryk is a paleontologist in Eastend, Saskatchewan, Canada.
The desire to be accepted and to fit in unobtrusively seemed to extend to his physical appearance as well. . . . Unfortunately, his desire to please impaired his creative imagination and the complete flowering of his research. He refused to theorize, to debate, and to defend - polite society might consider inordinate striving rather vulgar and in poor taste. Many of his colleagues were disappointed that a grand synthesis did not issue from such a man, but Leidy remained silent.
You may purchase this book (352 pp., hardcover) directly from:
Haddonfield's Dinosaur - the first North American dinosaur skeleton, which Leidy described - known as Haddonfield's Dinosaur - was found in Haddonfield, New Jersey.
American Association of Anatomists - was one of the beneficiaries of Leidy's efforts, as described in the Concise History of the American Association of Anatomists.
Academy of Natural Sciences - an organization Leidy was closely associated with.
Joseph Leidy Professorship of Cell and Developmental Biology - established as a posthumous gesture by Leidy's friends, students, and colleagues at the University of Pennsylvania.
Microscopes and Microscopy - page provides an update (up to1996, at least) on information about one of Leidy's favorite lab tools.
The Trachodon Tooth, 1860 and the First Discovery of American Dinosaurs, 1856 - short examples of Liedy's work.
