Lisa Jardine (1944–2015)

As Lisa Jardine reckons here, science nowadays often hurts itself against serious ethical questions, at times stirring fear within the popular psyche. It's especially true when it comes, for example, to genetics and our advances in term of understanding the human genome, raising concerns involving from cloning to eugenics. Such concerns, of course, aren't new. Mary Shelley had already warned us about 'playing God' in her Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, a work that still resonates up to these show more days... and for a good reason! And yet...

And yet, this distrust, or, at least, suspicion of science and scientists and the technological advances resulting from their research is relatively new (Lisa Jardine blames WWII and its aftermath, when our power to destruct truly took another level). And in fact indeed, such mindset would have been completely alien to those who shaped the first Scientific Revolution, an era that she recounts here.

This book, I must say, is truly fascinating. First, of course, because of its subject and the cast of characters that it involves. But not only. What I personally found particularly engrossing was how practical needs led to unexpected results and discoveries in whole different fields, seemingly unrelated, to radically transform the world as it was. The whole narrative, in fact, starts with King Charles II of England setting up the Royal Observatory; an astronomical endeavour whose purpose was, mainly, to help determine longitude and allow for safer sailings. The impact, though, would be felt not only upon navigation, but, also, upon our understanding of planetary motions... with long-lasting consequences! It carries on with similar domino effects, whereas one discovery would spread out to affect others in very surprising ways. For example, I had no idea that the dome of St Paul's Cathedral had been inspired by how lights get filtered by the lenses of microscopes (another major discovery of the time); that deep-sea diving was initiated by the air-pumps experiments on animals; nor that the collections of wealthy botanists would be so crucial in transforming medical science, for instance when it comes to the increasing use of various plant remedies...

Another surprise (at least for me!) was the emphasis put on compilation of data, the (obsessive) practical work about various measuring instruments and taxonomies. We often associate such first revolution with physics and maths (Newton tend to have overshadowed the whole period!) but there was far more to it than that indeed.

In the end, then, if you like science this is a must read. It's not only about a set of discoveries and the genius polymaths who made them. Going back to the suspicious fear too often caused by scientific and technological progress it is, also, a portray of a whole era when science, on the contrary, was truly galvanising people, especially across an Europe then in the grip of a powerful intellectual movement that would shatter the world. Again: truly fascinating and engrossing! show less

This fascinating book is essentially a look at how important things, and money, were in shaping what we now think of as the world of the Renaissance.

It starts with an analysis of the National Gallery Crivelli annunciation, a "meticulous visual inventory of consumer goods" from across the known world as well as a beautiful work of art - and itself a desirable possession. Renaissance artists were craftsmen for hire, working to order for the rich and powerful - and sitting at table with the show more tailors, musicians and other salaried members of the household. Others who fell into this category were people who would now perhaps style themselves as lifestyle consultants. You could have a man to advise you on what paintings, antiquities or books to buy to display your wealth and taste. You could even have someone to pre-read the books for you - Sir Philip Sidney had a private reader who annotated a copy of Livy for him with marginal notes referring to modern parallels to the events in the text, and a number of cross-references to modern works on political and military theory.

Conspicuous consumption was an essential aspect of prestige and authority, often backed up by borrowing on a massive scale. Christopher Columbus' proposal to seek a shorter route to the Indies - and therefore bypass the mark-ups which the spice traders put on their goods - was attractive to Ferdinand and Isabella because they were deeply in debt after a series of costly military campaigns. (For the weddings of two of their children in 1495, Isabella had to redeem her crown of gold and diamonds which had been pledged to raise money for the war against Granada.) And fortunes were made for entire families of bankers because they had received trading concessions in return for loans to popes or kings - the Medici wealth was based on monopolistic access to alum, vital for dyeing cloth. You could also make a fortune by having access to the right piece of information - for example, if you knew that two great houses were planning a wedding, you could stock up on fine fabrics while they were relatively cheap.

I think that since this book was published in 1996, its thesis has become much more widely accepted. But even so, Jardine finds some eye-catching links between things - consumption and discovery - and broad historical changes. The rebuilding of St Peter's Church in Rome, involving some of the greatest artists of the day including Michelangelo and Raphael, was so expensive that Pope Leo X issued a particularly grandiose indulgence, granting remission not just from sins already committed, but "purchasers and their relatives were forgiven every conceivable sin they had committed, or might commit, and exempted from all suffering in Purgatory, advancing immediately to Heaven". The indulgences were sold particularly hard in Germany, because the papacy had agreed that half the proceeds would go to paying off the debts of the Archbishop of Mainz. It was after the issue of this particular indulgence that Martin Luther nailed his theses to the church door at Wittenberg.

This is definitely a macro-history, ranging across the European continent from Scotland to the Ottoman Empire and in time across a couple of centuries. I am not sure that there was a coherent argument running all the way through it - it's more of a bag of delights, studded with interesting facts that you feel Jardine couldn't bring herself to leave out. I particularly liked the story of a map which deliberately placed the Molucca islands in the wrong place to back up Spain's territorial claim to them - and the related treaty stated that "during the time of this contract, {the Moluccas} shall be regarded as situated in such place" as shown on the map. Even that was only a bargaining chip - as soon as the claim was established the Spanish relinquished them in exchange for cash - "far more valuable to Charles, beset, in established Hapsburg fashion, by enormous debts to his bankers, than monopoly trading rights on the far side of the world". show less

An interesting short history of a significant event in Dutch (and European) history of which I doubt many Americans are aware -- the first assassination of a head of state by a handgun. Religion (the Protestant states of Holland seeking independence from Spanish Roman Catholicism) plays a large role here. While Jardine explicates the actual event and its direct consequences expertly, and her musings on assassinations, guns, and fear are interesting, the book is not "big" enough to fully show more support some of her attempts to bring in public interest through comparisons to the Palestinian statehood effort and the post-9/11 security/fear/propaganda matrix. Nonetheless an excellent guide to an event which is worthy of some thought, particularly in light of recent shootings. show less

Robert Hooke, when he is thought of at all, is generally remembered as the “vain, bad-tempered, quarrelsome adversary of Sir Isaac Newtonâ€?, forever seeking acknowledgment that it was he, not Newton, who first published the inverse square law of gravitational attraction.

History has, of course, sided with Newton, leaving Hooke the reputation as “a man who lacked the mathematical genius to turn a good idea into a great reality.â€? He has since all but disappeared beneath show more the shadows of his scientific peers, Newton, Christopher Wren, Robert Boyle, and others.

After three centuries, however, Hooke may finally be receiving his due. He first reappeared to the public as a major secondary character in author Neal Stephenson’s recent mammoth and ongoing series of historical novels, The Baroque Cycle.

Now, on the heels of James Gleick’s well-received biography of Newton, comes The Curious Life of Robert Hooke, Lisa Jardine’s attempt to reveal the truth behind the legend.

Subtitled The Man who Measured London, Jardine successfully rescues Hooke from the scrap-heap of obscurity, unveiling a restless maverick passionate for his experiments, a foremost member in the influential Royal Society, and “a founding figure in the European scientific revolution.â€?

Jardine wisely glosses over the perils of mathematical and scientific jargon, instead focusing her biography on reviving the career of a man so largely forgotten, no recognized portraits of him can be found.

Despite the reputation foisted upon him, Hooke was a well-respected inventor and engineer in seventeenth century London. His enthusiasm for experimentation made him a staple of Royal Society meetings, as fellow scientists would meet and debate the merits of what he and others had displayed that day.

Hooke’s true moment of greatness came during London’s Great Fire of 1666. Twelve thousand homes were destroyed, and sixty-five thousand people left homeless and destitute.

Hooke, with his talent for taking on many roles at once, became instrumental in the reconstruction of the city, accepting the post of Chief Surveyor, and personally designing many notable buildings, including Bedlam Hospital and the Royal College of Physicians. It was an astonishing effort that would keep him in the public eye for most of his days.

Sadly, despite his triumphs, Hooke was a scientist “without a defining great work to give his life shape.â€? A hypochondriac and insomniac, he took to self-medicating daily, leaving him “in a permanent state of extreme tension, on the edge, wary and wakeful, constantly under the influence of stimulants.â€?

Finally, what damaged Hooke the most was his inability, in today’s parlance, to network. As Newton once put it, he was “a man of strange unsociable temper,â€? stoop-shouldered, embittered, and guilty of taking on too many tasks at once, leaving friends and patrons disappointed.

Jardine longs to proclaim Hooke “a genius who has been unjustly overlooked.â€? In the end, she cannot. Hooke was guilty of trying to do too much, and finishing too little. Still, Jardine’s biography stands as a fitting testament to his work, an ode to a man who, by all accounts, should stand as the patron saint of the multi-tasker. show less