Endeavour最新文献

In well-established disciplines like history it is not common to find professionals who admit that they are driven by a “calling” or who say they have a “mission” to fulfill. In emerging disciplines, however, the situation is different: in order to gain recognition these new disciplines need highly driven practitioners, who’s calling enables them to overcome opposition or neglect from the side of the established disciplines. A clear example of such a practitioner with a mission in an emerging field of knowledge is the Dutch historian of science Eduard Jan Dijksterhuis (1892–1965). His career as a mathematics teacher, historical scholar, and public intellectual was marked by the desire to re-integrate science and mathematics in culture in general. Dijksterhuis regarded the history of science as a major instrument to bring about this ideal. His magnum opus, The Mechanization of the World Picture (first published in 1950 in Dutch; translated into English in 1961), was the culmination of a lifetime of writing in the service of a cultural vision that can still inspire our own generation.

This essay aims to shed some light on the still common sense of a vocation among scientists. Taking its cue from Paul Forman’s analysis of twentieth-century disciplinary science and Emile Durkheim’s social view of religions, it suggests that modern scientific communities resemble religious communities in their penchant for transcendence. The essay aims to illustrate this perspective by looking at some developments within the physics discipline since its emergence in the late nineteenth century. One indication for this penchant is the tendency to distance oneself from the material conditions which allowed the discipline to flourish. These utilitarian conditions, industrial as well as material, were seen to pose a threat to the disinterested pursuit of truth. Another is the persistent tendency among theoretical physicists to search for otherworldly, immaterial and unifying foundations.

This article is both a comment on the collection of papers, “Specialists with Spirit: Re-Enchanting the Vocation of Science,” offered as a tribute to Klaas van Berkel, and an attempt to add historical depth to present-day sensibilities about the academic discipline called the history of science: Is it a special sort of inquiry? Is science as its subject matter a special sort of culture? Max Weber’s 1917 Science as a Vocation lecture, and its continuing appropriations, is a focal point for addressing these questions.

Intellectuals tend to cherish heroes who embody their ideal way of life. The fact that the personas of the unworldly Greek philosophers Diogenes and Crates were so popular in the late Middle Ages proves that Max Weber’s Idealtypus of the “authentic man of science” (as termed by Steven Shapin) has been problematic for centuries. This finding gives cause to modify Max Weber’s and Shapin's viewpoints about the loss of the “authentic man of science” due to professionalization. The development of the university as an educational institution in the High Middle Ages chained the academic once and for all to a formal training that costs time and money: investments that were expected to have reward. Soon, university-trained experts were highly appreciated by local and national authorities. By combining Frank Rexroth’s and Marcel Bubert’s ideas on the coming into being of an “amor sciendi” in the twelfth century Arts faculties, with David Kaldewey’s and Klaas van Berkel’s appeals for academic autonomy, my article argues that academics have always struggled to protect the pursuit of truth, even while they recognized its vital importance from the beginning.

J. D. Wetherspoon is a popular pub chain in the United Kingdom. Despite its prominence in British cultural life and active and deliberate engagement with history, it has received scant academic attention. Here, this engagement with history is explored with a particular focus on how Wetherspoon approaches the history of science. This paper highlights the focus of Wetherspoon on local history and, in particular, on local exceptionalism, before discussing how such an understanding of history informs wider debates—such as Wetherspoon’s support of Brexit (the UK’s withdrawal from the European Union). It contributes to understandings of what constitutes popular history and, through doing so, emphasises the need for historians to engage with historical narratives outside the academy.

Although much scholarship on nineteenth and twentieth century mathematics has focused on processes of professionalization, historical mathematicians themselves rarely experienced their lives as neatly divisible into the professional and the private. Taking marriage as a focal point, this introduction brings the fruitful historiography of gender, collaborative couples, and domesticity in science into a broader conversation with the history of mathematics. By historicizing marriage and its relationship to mathematical careers, we lay the groundwork for the special issue which uncovers the myriad ways in which spousal collaboration and support have been central to mathematical work.

When Bryn Mawr College opened in 1885, then-president James Rhoads highlighted the precautions taken to ensure that the young women students would remain healthy, in reaction to the publicized warnings of Scottish physician Thomas S. Clouston, M.D. Dr. Clouston’s concern that girls’ higher education would damage their health epitomized a growing anxiety around the status of wives and mothers at a time of increased educational opportunities for the so-called ‘fairer sex’. To counter these opinions, college alumnae and administrators turned to statistics. Through a combination of published statistics and informal anecdotes, this article provides an in-depth study of how marriage data were solicited, tabulated, and framed at Bryn Mawr College during the Progressive Era, contributing a detailed case-study to the historiography on the period’s debates over educated women. The tension between marriage and a career in research was acutely apparent to the women in academia who were at once responsible for the statistical analysis and among the subjects under investigation. While the survey design and published results emphasized the desired outcome of marriage after graduation, these same documents also offered space for emerging professional trajectories.

The story of John Farrar (1779–1853) and Eliza Ware Rotch (1791–1870) is neither a tale about a female mathematician nor one of the “making” of a mathematical career. Rather, the productivity of John, who is known to historians of American mathematics for the Harvard College series of mathematics and natural philosophy textbooks that bears his name, had already begun to decline by the time he married Eliza in 1828. She then embarked on her own career of adapting novels and biographies for children and writing self-improvement manuals. Despite their joint efforts to continue writing and to preserve their social and professional connections, the activities of both John and Eliza were effectively brought to an end by the decades John spent fully incapacitated by illness. An exploration of how their marriage was interwoven with their careers adds details to their biographies and suggests connections to the historical analysis of dual-career marriages and to examinations of how such unions can be impacted by the poor health of one or both partners.