The Anatomist - Bill Hayes [39]
Though Paley wrote chiefly in the late eighteenth century, his words resonated well into the nineteenth and, in fact, can still be heard today in the “antievolution” movement advocating intelligent design. With Paley, it is important to bear in mind, however, that he was writing before Charles Darwin was even born, not in reaction to Darwin’s theories.
In his most popular and influential work, Natural Theology; or, Evidences of the Existence and Attributes of the Deity, Paley introduced his now-famous metaphor of the watchmaker: if you had never in your life seen a watch, then found one lying on the ground and examined it, you would come to the inevitable conclusion, Paley writes, “that the watch must have had a maker—that there must have existed, at some time and some place or other, an artificer or artificers who formed it.” One must come to the same conclusion, he argues, regarding far more complex structures—plants, animals, and human beings. In short, only an “intelligent Designer” could have created them, just as only an “intelligent watchmaker” can make a watch. “That Designer must have been a person. That person is God.”
While nature offers multiple proofs for the existence of God, Paley singles out one as definitive: “For my part, I take my stand in human anatomy.” In making his case, he moves beyond the biblical teaching that humans are made in God’s image. Paley presents what amounts to an anatomical travelogue of faith, pointing out those parts of the human body so perfect in design and purpose that God’s hand is obvious: “The pivot upon which the head turns, the ligament within the socket of the hip-joint, the pulley or trochlear muscles of the eye,…the knitting of the intestines to the mesentery,” and on and on, as if he somehow sees each piece of evidence right through the skin.
Part sermon, part anatomy lecture, this passage sounds as if it were written expressly for Carter, who, of course, knew these places well. It also contains the key to understanding a puzzling diary entry, which, in turn, unlocks a secret to understanding the young H.V. The entry comes in the first pages of Carter’s first diary. On Sunday, January 7, 1849, the seventeen-year-old reports going to chapel twice and spending time reading Paley’s Natural Theology. On the left half of the page, he jots, “Acquired a new idea from it,” underscoring his excitement. And just to the right, he places a quote I recognize from Ecclesiastes, the most dour book of the Old Testament: “‘With much wisdom is much grief and he that increaseth his knowledge, increaseth troubles.’” The one thought is shoved to the left side, the other to the right—For and Against, I realized. But why? Why the opposing thoughts?
Like Paley, he could see the divine in the body. But here’s the rub, as Carter might say. Even at this early date, he knew too much—too much about human anatomy—not to also see the imperfections, the flaws in the body’s design (for instance, the single passageway that both food and air share, which can result in choking). Hence, for H. V. Carter, the conflict between faith and knowledge was embodied in the body itself. The Christian within him could see what Paley could see. But the anatomist knew better.
Seven
AFTER THREE WEEKS OF CLASS, I AM SERVING AS A DEMONSTRATOR of anatomy.
My duties are quite different from Henry Gray’s when he was demonstrator of anatomy (one of his many roles at St. George’s). He would stand in front of the class, behind a cadaver, showing students the parts of the body being described by the lecturer. The