Cosmos: 19th Century Polymath Version

I’m now 80% through Andrea Wulf’s The Invention of Nature, a broad sweeping narrative on the life, ideas, and influence of the polymath Alexander von Humboldt. Polymath isn’t a word we use nowadays. In 1834, another polymath William Whewell introduced the term ‘scientist’ when he reviewed a book by one of the most famous (and rare) women polymaths, Mary Somerville. 1834 was also the year that Humboldt, now aged 65, would begin working on his opus – Cosmos. More than a century later, Carl Sagan (I consider him a polymath too!) would be well known far wider than his scientist colleagues for his TV show of the same name. But where Sagan focused mainly on things outside planet Earth, Humboldt would attempt to encompass everything about our planet.

These days higher education news is saturated with the decline of the liberal arts and the rise of STEM and professional fields. It’s all about the job market, supposedly. As a practicing scientist, I am steeped in the practice of the ‘publishable unit’ aimed at my narrow tribe of chemists with all the accompanying jargon. Humboldt's Cosmos does the exact opposite. A blend of engaging poetic prose with very detailed science (not dumbed down for the public), it is a testament to why a holistic approach can be so compelling. Charles Darwin took the same tack in his Voyage of the Beagle, owing much to Humboldt’s earlier Personal Narrative of his journeys through South America. It’s no surprise that travel writing continues to be popular – it opens up new worlds – vibrant worlds that both immerse and delight the reader. Wulf does a masterful job in her book, and I can’t do any better than quote her.

“[In 1834] the very year that the term ‘scientist’ was first coined, heralding the beginning of the professionalization of the sciences and the hardening lines between different scientific disciplines, Humboldt began a book that did exactly the opposite. As science moved away from nature into laboratories and universities, separating itself into distinct disciplines, Humboldt created a work that brought together all that professional science was trying to keep apart.”

Twelve years later the first volume was published. Wulf describes the response: “The world was electrified… [a publisher said] he had never seen so many orders – not even when Goethe had published his masterpiece Faust. Students read Cosmos, as did scientists, artists and politicians… Poets admired it, as did musicians, with the French Romantic composer Hector Berlioz declaring Humboldt a ‘dazzling’ writer. The book was so popular among musicians, Berlioz said, that he knew one who had ‘read, re-read, pondered and understood’ Cosmos during his breaks at opera performances. In England, Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, requested a copy, while Darwin professed himself impatient for the English translation.”

“In the second volume [two years later] Humboldt took his readers on a voyage of the mind, through human history from ancient civilizations to modern times. No scientific publication had ever attempted anything similar. No scientist had written about poetry, art and gardens, and about agriculture and politics… It was also a history of science, discovery and exploration covering everything from Alexander the Great to the Arabic world, from Christopher Columbus to Isaac Newton.”

“Until this point few Americans had read Humboldt’s previous works, but Cosmos changed that, establishing him as a household name across the North American continent. Ralph Waldo Emerson was one of the first to obtain a copy… No one, Emerson said, knew more about nature than Humboldt.” Edgar Allan Poe’s last major work Eureka was a response to Cosmos as well as being dedicated to Humboldt. Wulf dedicates a whole chapter to discuss the strong influence Cosmos would have on Henry David Thoreau and his opus Walden.

It’s sad that we no longer see this sort of work, or this type of thinking. The specialization of our disciplines in the sciences has resulted in an ignorant myopia outside our narrow area of expertise. Those who branch out are few and far between. Many would say that Carl Sagan paid a price in academia for his popularization and popularity. Others attempt to fit everything to one particular framework in their field, even when it does not work (here’s an example). Science is viewed by the public as useful, but difficult and incomprehensible in its details. College level science classes are seen as a slog for students who take no delight in learning what seem to them obscure details. We teachers need to integrate the big picture much, much more – but that will mean getting out of our comfort zone, and looking over the walls of our cloister. Perhaps Humboldt can inspire us.