Genes and genius: the inheritance of Gregor Mendel.

655 Gregor Mendel. Does the name stir anything now, after 140 years? Perhaps we acknowledge a remote debt. “The Father of Genetics.” Honorific, but also rather automatic, taken for granted. A pioneer, a founder—but, as such, a character from a mythic realm. We probably recall something about what he did. Crossbred peas. Recorded variations. Identified dominant and recessive traits. But can such a distant figure still have a meaningful connection to us? The new exhibit Gregor Mendel: Planting the Seeds of Genetics, at Chicago’s Field Museum through April 1, 2007, goes beyond the textbook accounts to explore the driven, very human scientist that started it all. Mendel has been labeled “the first geneticist,” because he discerned “laws” of heredity that were later named after him. He is sometimes referred to as “a botanist” because he experimented on pea plants. Those of us with good memories may recall his story in more detail: through 8 years of meticulous experimentation crossbreeding different varieties of Pisum sativum, the garden pea, Gregor Mendel was able to discern the fundamental laws of heredity by analyzing the mathematical ratios he found in the hybrid offspring of his plants. We may even recall that he was a monk. That’s the essence of the story, but it’s in the details of his life and his contributions that the power of Gregor Mendel’s accomplishment—his genius—emerges. It’s there that we discover not an inspired amateur, or a determined little gardener (images of Mendel that still circulate), but a dedicated, driven, brilliant scientist. He was more mathematician than gardener, as much a physicist as a botanist. It’s true that peas held the key to his discovery, but Mendel also experimented on dozens of plant species, including ornamental flowers and beans. We were taught that he was a monk, but he was, in fact, a friar. It’s a crucial distinction—in fact, it’s one of the telling details in Mendel’s story, a fundamental factor in his scientific achievement. A monk could not have done what Mendel did. Monks are cloistered, tied to their monastery, while a friar is required to go out into the world. From its founding in 1256, the Augustinian order, to which Mendel belonged, focused on education and scientific study as well as missionary work. In addition, the abbey (not monastery) that Mendel belonged to in Brünn, Moravia (now Brno, Czech Republic) was peculiarly engaged in the larger world of culture and science. Its head, Abbot Cyril Napp, was a scientist himself, and held progressive views; in addition, the friars of St. Thomas were required by the Austrian government of the time to teach in the public schools. The fact that Mendel was a friar at this precise place and time was one of the keys to his discovery. It was probably a long-standing scientific inclination that led Mendel to the Augustinians. Johann Mendel (as he was christened) was a farm boy, and learned about agriculture and fruit growing from his father. His local school was advanced for its time, offering natural science as part of its curriculum. He was a bright student, and pursued an academic track that few boys of his means could. But life was difficult—he struggled, and half-starved supporting himself through secondary school. And then what? His prospects for becoming a teacher were dim. Back to the farm? The Abbey of St. Thomas offered another alternative: a scholarly community (and a well-laden refectory table). As he put it in an autobiographical sketch (quaintly, in the third person), “his circumstances determined his vocational choice.” He joined the order in 1843, at age 21; the decision marks the beginning of his transformation into a scientist. Mendel’s fellow friars included botanists, philosophers, a mathematician, and a composer; most taught in secondary schools or universities. Mendel himself was sent to teach in local schools after proving to be unsuited to parish work (visiting the sick and dying drove him to illness). He was put in charge of the Abbey’s natural history collections, and soon became a member of the local agricultural society (and a few years later led a breakaway group to form the Brünn Natural Science Society). But the Abbey offered more than a rich intellectual environment: it provided Mendel an entry into more advanced scientific training. After Mendel failed a teaching qualification exam in 1851, his abbot sent him to study at the University of