The Birth of the Cell by Henry Harris, Yale University Press, 拢20, ISBN
0300073844
WHAT did gentleman scientist Robert Hooke see when he looked at a piece of
cork down a microscope? His sketches from 1665 show the cavities we now know
would have once contained living cells. Hooke even calls these spaces 鈥渃ells鈥�
(from the Latin for a small room).
But don鈥檛 be tempted to turn this Englishman into the father of cells. To
him, these cells were no more than channels through which the sap passed: he
never imagined them to be skeletons of the basic unit of life itself.
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In fact, according to Henry Harris in The Birth of the Cell, none of
the traditional heroes of cell theory鈥擬atthias Schleiden, Theodor Schwann
and Rudolf Virchow鈥攄eserve much credit. While textbooks still sometimes
refer to 鈥渢he cell theory of Schleiden and Schwann鈥�, Harris dedicates only a
single chapter to the German duo and disparages Virchow鈥檚 disdainful attitude to
his contemporaries.
The real (and forgotten) heroes, says Harris, are the Frenchmen, such as
Henri Milne-Edwards, who noted that some animal tissues, like plants, were
made of 鈥渃orpuscles鈥�, and R茅n茅-Joachim-Henri Dutrochet, whose
studies of plant cells in the 1820s led him to believe the cell was the basic
unit of metabolic exchange.
Meanwhile, their compatriot, Fran莽ois-Vincent Raspail, went as far
as to state in Histoire Naturelle de la Sant茅 et de la Maladie,
published in 1843, that the cell was 鈥渁 laboratory within which all tissues
organise and grow鈥�.
Meanwhile, in Breslau, again ahead of Schwann, Jan Evangelista Purkyn茅
(Harris insists on the Czech spelling rather than the Germanic Purkinje) and
Gabriel Gustav Valentin had already noted the similarities between plant and
animal cells. Purkyn茅 was convinced that cells were the primary constituent of
living tissue. Purkyn茅 has cells, fibres and figures named after him, but
Schwann got the glory: his is the name we associate with cell theory.
Schwann鈥檚 idea that cells are the fundamental unit of all living tissues
seems now unimpressive, a mere repetition of Purkyn茅鈥檚 position. Harris
concentrates on exposing Schwann鈥檚 idea about how cells are formed鈥攃ells
coalesced around free nuclei鈥攆or the error it was. The German heroes
display little merit, and certainly do not deserve the credit that tradition
ascribes to them.
Virchow鈥檚 reputation suffers a similar fate as Harris focuses on the work and
theories of the Pole Robert Remak. Unlike Schwann, Remak thought that cells were
produced by division. For Harris, Remak deserves the credit; Virchow鈥檚 famed
Cellularpathologie is nothing less than an unacknowledged exposition of
Remak鈥檚 own ideas.
Harris bombards us with a phalanx of little-known scientists with a purpose:
he aims to redress the balance. He wants to give credit where it is due to those
whom history has previously ignored. He says he is interested in those who made
the discovery rather than those who elaborated on it. Thus, he asserts that
鈥淧urkyn茅 and Remak were the discoverers, but their voices were drowned in the
publicity unleashed by the works of the colonisers, Schwann and Virchow鈥�.
Henry Harris, an excellent historian and an eminent medical scientist, clings
to his scientific upbringing. He focuses on the scientific aspects of the cell
theory. From the composition of tissue and cell generation to the role of the
nucleus and chromosomes, he traces the history of ideas thoroughly.
But behind the science runs another story in which personalities, politics
and prejudice damage the edifice of pure and objective science. That Dutrochet
was French and Purkyn茅 Czech, that Valentin was Jewish and Raspail a
Republican, had greater influence on their careers than all the merits of their
scientific techniques. Harris touches on these underlying themes, but
unfortunately does not explore them in any great depth.