THE CREATION OF SPECIES 



Gregor Mendel, the Austro-Silesian priest, lived 

 the life of an obscure abbot in the cloister of Briinn, 

 and died in 1884, at the age of sixty-one, absolutely 

 unknown to fame. To-day his name is mentioned 

 almost reverentially by a host of biologists all over 

 the world, and it is felt by many that his niche in the 

 temple of fame must be side by side with that of 

 Charles Darwin. One of the most philosophical biol- 

 ogists of our time has said that he dates the birth 

 of scientific biology from the year 1863; in which 

 Mendel published in an obscure periodical the first 

 account of his researches, an account to which no 

 one paid the slightest attention at the time or for 

 more than a quarter of a century thereafter. 



The entire history of science shows no other case 

 quite comparable to this. Posterity frequently 

 enough juggles with reputations and refuses to re- 

 member men who achieved wide reputation while 

 they lived. But I recall no other case in which a 

 man who lived and died unknown to fame, seemingly 

 without making an impress on the thought of his 

 generation, has been glorified by the immediately 

 succeeding generation. So the case of the Abbot of 

 Briinn has peculiar significance even for that part 

 of the world which takes no interest in affairs scien- 

 tific. 



What, then, was the scientific achievement which 

 gave this obscure priest such astonishing measure 

 of posthumous fame? The answer will doubtless 

 surprise the reader who chances not to have heard 

 the story. The achievement, which by common con- 

 sent of present-day biologists was really a mo- 



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