As was his attitude toward things sacred, so also was it toward those who went before him in science. He did not speak sneeringly of what they, with lesser light, had achieved. And to him Aristotle was none the less a giant because some dwarf on a giant's shoulders can see farther than the giant himself.
If I may cite my own words used on a former occasion, Whitney's life-work shows three important lines of activity,—the elaboration of strictly technical works, the preparation of educational treatises, and the popular exposition of scientific questions. The last two methods of public service are direct and immediate, and to be gainsaid of none; yet even here the less immediate results are doubtless the ones by which he would have set most store. As for the first, some may incline to think the value of an edition of the Veda or of a Sanskrit grammar—to say nothing of a Prātiçākhya—extremely remote; they certainly won for him neither money nor popular applause; and yet, again, such are the very works in which we cannot doubt he took the deepest satisfaction. He realized their fundamental character, knew that they were to play their part in unlocking the treasures of Indian antiquity, and knew that that antiquity has its great lessons for us moderns; further, that the history of the languages of India, as it has indeed already modified, is also yet to modify, and that profoundly, the whole teaching of classical and Germanic philology, both in method and in contents; and that the history of the evolution of religions in India is destined to exert a powerful influence for good upon the development of religious thought and life among us and our children. He labored, and other men shall enter into his labors. But it is this "faith, the assurance of things hoped for,"—πίστις ἐλπιζομένων ὑπόστασις,—which is one of the most vital attributes of the true scholar.
In the autumn of 1886 came the beginning of the end, an alarming disorder of the heart. Adhering closely to a strictly prescribed physical regimen, he labored on, according to his wavering strength, heaping, as it were, the already brimming measure of his life-work. His courage, his patient learning of the art of suffering, his calm serenity in facing the ever-present possibility of sudden death,—this was heroic. And through it all forsook him not the two grand informing motives of his life,—the pure love of truth, and an all-absorbing passion for faithful service.
With this love of truth, this consuming zeal for service, with this public spirit and broad humanity, this absolute truthfulness and genuineness of character, is not this life an inspiration and an example more potent by far than years of exhortation? Is not this truly one of the lives that make for righteousness?
And what then? On the tympanum of the theatre at Harvard are inscribed in the Vulgate version those noble words from the book of Daniel:—
QVI·AVTEM·DOCTI·FVERINT
FVLGEBVNT·QVASI·SPLENDOR·FIRMAMENTI
ET·QVI·AD·IVSTITIAM·ERVDIVNT·MVLTOS
QVASI·STELLAE·IN·PERPETVAS·AETERNITATES
We may say them of him: And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever.
