Whitman's Learned Astronomer

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

So wrote Walt Whitman, the self-proclaimed "American bard".  And I can certainly sympathize with him.  Those in scientific professions can all too often get caught up in the technical details of their craft- so full of meaning and portent to a fellow scientist, but so impenetrable to the layperson.  Even I, a student of and passionate advocate for the sciences, often find myself bewildered.

But there is one important detail that Whitman overlooks here, and that anyone who interacts with the sciences would do well to remind themselves of.  The "charts and diagrams" that Whitman finds so stifling may be one of the results of the astronomer's scientific endeavor, but they are not its overall purpose.  The purpose of science is, quite simply, to learn what we humans can about the natural world.  And the motivation that drives one to pursue a career in science is often a far cry from a desire to "lecture with much applause in the lecture-room."  The scientist is motivated by the same force that drove Whitman to write his poetry: a deep-seated awe at the beauty and intricacy of nature.  No doubt the learn'd astronomer himself was inspired to take up his telescope after a night when he "wander'd off by himself in the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time look'd up in perfect silence at the stars."