Would you rather be knowledgeable on a variety of topics, or an expert on just one topic? Today’s emphasis on academic specialization supports the latter—we rarely encounter someone with multiple PhDs in unrelated fields. Rarely do we go beyond the question or suggest the obvious third option: what if we could be an expert in a range of disciplines?
Modern academic world, meet Athanasius Kircher.
Kircher, a Jesuit priest of the German Enlightenment, has been referred to as “The Last Man Who Knew Everything” for attempting to be a polymathic scholar. Kircher published nearly 40 works on a diverse range of subjects, from linguistics and Egyptology to geology and medicine. Despite his powerful resume, however, history has forgotten him for one simple reason: Kircher was wrong about almost everything.
Kircher dedicated his life to the pursuit of knowledge. Kircher was born in 1602 in Fulda (now Hesse), Germany. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1628, and taught in Germany before fleeing from the Thirty Years War to Rome in 1630. Kircher taught at the Collegio Romano until granted full leave to study, experiment, and write. He remained in Rome for the rest of his life. Upon his death in 1680, Kircher’s heart was buried in Santuario della Mentorella, a church which he helped renovate earlier in his life.
Kircher is infamous for firmly defending outlandish claims. Kircher did not just posit ideas recklessly, he often pursued them recklessly. Kircher once lowered himself into a just-erupted Mount Vesuvius to better understand the inner workings of volcanoes. Albeit a bit dramatic, Kircher’s dedication to the hidden systems of geology produced one of his more famous (though fanciful) diagrams of the earth.
In addition to risking bodily harm for science, Kircher also attempted seemingly nonsensical experiments. For such an example, we need look no further than his legendary sunflower clock. In his work Magnes Sive de Arte Magnetica (1641), Kircher proposed that a plant’s attraction to the sun mimics a magnet’s attraction to its polar charge. Using this theory, a sunflower placed in water should follow the course of the sun throughout the day, thus acting as a rather accurate sundial.
As it turns out, Kircher’s sunflower clock is not a workable design. This seems not to matter; many other scientists attempted to reproduce this experiment, opening additional inquiries into the idea of magnetism and, for Kircher’s contemporaries, a heliocentric world. This may be exactly what Kircher intended—rather than attempt a truly workable sunflower clock, Kircher might instead have wanted to show the potential of scientific imagination and inquiry.
Kircher’s imagination did not stop at the boundaries of science. His interest in history and linguistics led him to the field of Egyptology, which before the discovery of the Rosetta Stone remained virtually indecipherable. Kircher thought Egyptian society fiercely important to European culture, and so doggedly studied and promoted it. He attempted to develop a key to hieroglyphics. In one of his more famous blunders on this topic, Kircher mistakenly translated one text as “The treachery of Typhon ends at the throne of Isis; the moisture of nature is guarded by the vigilance of Anubis.” We now know it to mean simply “Osiris says.” His work in this area–however inaccurate–began the academic study of Egyptian society and today Kircher is widely considered the Father of Egyptology.