Yesterday, I asked the question, “Is the polymath a more
interesting person?”
I don’t think that there’s any empirical evidence on this
subject (I haven’t found any), but the unscientific way of thinking about it to ask yourself this question, "Would you like to hang out with a polymath?"
And the unscientific answer is, apparently, yes, the average
person would like to know a polymath. Or at least the average person thinks
that the other average people would like to know a polymath. Have you ever counted
the number of polymaths (and Renaissance men and women) (yes, I know, we still have
to define the Renaissance person) in personal ads, wedding announcements, blogs,
and obituaries?
Believe me, there are a lot of them.
Writer Thomas McCarthy
noted, perhaps a bit sarcastically,
that those whose marriages are reported in the Sunday
New York Times are set apart from the rest of us by “their dazzling
polymathy.”
One groom “plays the
trumpet, does magic tricks...follows the art world closely...he sings, he
dances, he's a computer whiz.”
In 1994, a review of a biography of the late pharmacy
professor William Procter, Jr., in the scholarly
Journal of American History gushed, “If not a polymath, Procter was
at least a Renaissance man in the field of pharmacy.”
And these are just two references picked at random.
Look for yourself. There’s a lot out there.
Does being a polymath really make you more interesting? I
don’t know, but it certainly seems like people think so. As we come to a definition
of polymath and start looking at actual polymaths, maybe we’ll start thinking
about whether they are actually good and interesting people, as opposed to just
smart and talented people.