As a contribution to the current, #humanities debate, here's what Juan-Luis Vives, the Spanish humanist, thought of STEM-types 500 hundred years ago. (1/7)
STEM is not suitable for "those who are suspicious, or who twist everything into the worst shape... Nor should those who are weak in religious convictions be introduced to this subject." (2/7)
He supports a common justification for STEM: "the contemplation of nature is unnecessary and even harmful unless it serves useful arts of life..." (3/7)
Also, echoing many of his contemporaries rather fewer of today's scientists, STEM is good because it "raises us from a knowledge of His works to a knowledge, admiration and love of the Author of these works." (4/7)
As for maths - "The mathematical sciences are particularly disciplinary to flighty and restless intellects which are inclined to slackness." Obviously. (5/7)
Vives is a good humanist so almost exclusively recommends classical texts. However, "the unlearned, silly and godless talk of the Arabian should not seriously studied." He's pretty critical of Aristotle too, having been force fed him at the University of Paris. (6/7)
Honestly, I think we're all just better off studying the humanities. Quotes from Vives, On Education (Cambridge, 1913) pp 166-7. (7/7) ia800204.us.archive.org/30/items/vives…
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Something that I find amazing is the great age of the Romans' top god Jupiter. We all know he is the same bloke as the Greeks' Zeus, but we can trace him way back much further than when he arrived in Europe. (1/5)
Zeus appears in Linear B tablets from the Mycenaean age, together with many of the other familiar gods, taking us back to c. 1500BC (2/5)
However, what's amazing is we also find him in India, under the Sanskrit name Dyaus Pita, which is very obviously from the same root as Jupiter. (3/5)
Shopping for the booze for our daughter's 18th birthday reminded me of the convoluted story of how we got the word 'alcohol'. Everyone thinks it is Arabic but that isn't exactly true. (1/7)
Going back thousands of years, we find the Akkadian word 'gulhu'. It's not clear what it meant, but it seems to have been some sort of fine black powder. (2/7)
Akkadian is a semitic language like Arabic, so it is quite likely that 'kohl', the Arabic word for a dark eyeliner, is derived from 'gulhu'. Of course, we still use kohl to mean this today. (3/7)
I'm obsessed with the question of how much ancient literature has survived to the present day. The answer isn't always what you'd expect: a case in point is Akkadian. (1/8)
Akkadian is found in cuneiform tablets that began to be uncovered in large numbers in the early-nineteenth century. They were deciphered with help from multi-lingual inscriptions, most famously at Mt Behistun in Iran. (2/8)
Since then, huge numbers have been recovered. Most famously, the British Museum holds 130,000, according to their curator Irving Finkel. These include the entire library from Nineveh of the mighty Assyrian king Ashurbanipal. (3/8)
It isn't often that an artwork takes my breathe away, but #Donatello's Penitent Magdalene certainly did. (1/5)
She's a life-sized wooden sculpture once in the Florentine Baptistry, now in the Duomo Museum. As she's not on a pedestal or anything, you can get right up close (Michaelangelo's Pieta in the background below). (2/5)
As you will already have gathered, the Duomo Museum is an uncrowded gem compared to the more famous attractions of Florence, stuffed with world-class late medieval art like this Andrea Pisano relief of an astronomer. (3/5)
People often talk about how little literature survives from the ancient world, and if they are talking about Latin, they are right. (1/6)
The late professor John Vincent thought 10 million words of ancient Latin survive, but two million are legal texts and only a million are pre-Christian. A million words is roughly twice the size of The Lord of the Rings. (2/6)
The actual canon of classical Latin literature is even smaller. A set of the critical editions fits easily into a couple of bookshelves, and a third of it is by a single author - Cicero. (3/6)
Matus is trying to understand how the Franciscans understood that alchemy 'worked' when the promised effects were conspicuous in their absence. He suggests they privileged the subjunctive over the 'real'.
In other words, given what they knew about God, how did they suppose nature is supposed to work. That seems to me the basis for much natural philosophy - looking (intentionally or otherwise) at how the world needs to be to support more foundational ethical or religious beliefs.