How Renaissance Nürnberg became the Scientific Instrument Capital of Europe

This is a writen version of the lecture that I was due to hold at the Science and the City conference in London on 7 April 2020. The conference has for obvious reasons been cancelled and will now take place on the Internet. You can view the revised conference program here.

The title of my piece is, of course, somewhat hyperbolic, as far as I know nobody has ever done a statistical analysis of the manufacture of and trade in scientific instruments in the sixteenth century. However, it is certain that in the period 1450-1550 Nürnberg was one of the leading European centres both the manufacture of and the trade in scientific instruments. Instruments made in Nürnberg in this period can be found in every major collection of historical instruments, ranging from luxury items, usually made for rich patrons, like the column sundial by Christian Heyden (1526–1576) from Hessen-Kassel

heyden002

Column Sundial by Christian Heyden Source: Museumslandschaft Hessen-Kassel

to cheap everyday instruments like this rare (rare because they seldom survive) paper astrolabe by Georg Hartman (1489–1564) from the MHS in Oxford.

49296

Paper and Wood Astrolabe Hartmann Source: MHS Oxford

I shall be looking at the reasons why and how Nürnberg became such a major centre for scientific instruments around 1500, which surprisingly have very little to do with science and a lot to do with geography, politics and economics.

Like many medieval settlements Nürnberg began simply as a fortification of a prominent rock outcrop overlooking an important crossroads. The first historical mention of that fortification is 1050 CE and there is circumstantial evidence that it was not more than twenty or thirty years old. It seems to have been built in order to set something against the growing power of the Prince Bishopric of Bamberg to the north. As is normal a settlement developed on the downhill slopes from the fortification of people supplying services to it.

Nuremberg_chronicles_-_Nuremberga

A fairly accurate depiction of Nürnberg from the Nuremberg Chronicle from 1493. The castles (by then 3) at the top with the city spreading down the hill. Large parts of the inner city still look like this today

Initially the inhabitants were under the authority of the owner of the fortification a Burggraf or castellan. With time as the settlement grew the inhabitants began to struggle for independence to govern themselves.

In 1200 the inhabitants received a town charter and in 1219 Friedrich II granted the town of Nürnberg a charter as a Free Imperial City. This meant that Nürnberg was an independent city-state, which only owed allegiance to the king or emperor. The charter also stated that because Nürnberg did not possess a navigable river or any natural resources it was granted special tax privileges and customs unions with a number of southern German town and cities. Nürnberg became a trading city. This is where the geography comes into play, remember that important crossroads. If we look at the map below, Nürnberg is the comparatively small red patch in the middle of the Holy Roman Empire at the beginning of the sixteenth century. If your draw a line from Paris to Prague, both big important medieval cities, and a second line from the border with Denmark in Northern Germany down to Venice, Nürnberg sits where the lines cross almost literally in the centre of Europe. Nürnberg also sits in the middle of what was known in the Middle Ages as the Golden Road, the road that connected Prague and Frankfurt, two important imperial cities.

p500ME_Eng_g1

You can also very clearly see Nürnberg’s central position in Europe on Erhard Etzlaub’s  (c. 1460–c. 1531) pilgrimage map of Europe created for the Holy Year of 1500. Nürnberg, Etzlaub’s hometown, is the yellow patch in the middle. Careful, south is at the top.

1024px-Rompilger-Karte_(Erhard_Etzlaub)

Over the following decades and centuries the merchant traders of Nürnberg systematically expanded their activities forming more and more customs unions, with the support of various German Emperors, with towns, cities and regions throughout the whole of Europe north of Italy. Nürnberg which traded extensively with the North Italian cities, bringing spices, silk and other eastern wares, up from the Italian trading cities to distribute throughout Europe, had an agreement not to trade with the Mediterranean states in exchange for the Italians not trading north of their northern border.

As Nürnberg grew and became more prosperous, so its political status and position within the German Empire changed and developed. In the beginning, in 1219, the Emperor appointed a civil servant (Schultheis), who was the legal authority in the city and its judge, especially in capital cases. The earliest mention of a town council is 1256 but it can be assumed it started forming earlier. In 1356 the Emperor, Karl IV, issued the Golden Bull at the Imperial Diet in Nürnberg. This was effectively a constitution for the Holy Roman Empire that regulated how the Emperor was to be elected and, who was to be appointed as the Seven Prince-electors, three archbishops and four secular rulers. It also stipulated that the first Imperial Diet of a newly elected Emperor was to be held in Nürnberg. This stipulation reflects Nürnberg’s status in the middle of the fourteenth century.

The event is celebrated by the mechanical clock ordered by the town council to be constructed for the Frauenkirche, on the market place in 1506 on the 150th anniversary of the Golden Bull, which at twelve noon displays the seven Prince-electors circling the Emperor.

MK40639_Kunstuhr_Frauenkirche_(Nürnberg)

Mechanical clock on the Frauenkirche overlooking the market place in Nürnberg. Ordered by the city council in 1506 to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the issuing of the Golden Bull at the Imperial Diet in 1356

Over time the city council had taken more and more power from the Schultheis and in 1385 they formally bought the office, integrating it into the councils authority, for 8,000 gulden, a small fortune. In 1424 Emperor, Sigismund appointed Nürnberg the permanent residence of the Reichskleinodien (the Imperial Regalia–crown, orb, sceptre, etc.).

Arolsen_Klebeband_16_091

The Imperial Regalia

This raised Nürnberg in the Imperial hierarchy on a level with Frankfurt, where the Emperor was elected, and Aachen, where he was crowned. In 1427, the Hohenzollern family, current holders of the Burggraf title, sold the castle, which was actually a ruin at that time having been burnt to the ground by the Bavarian army, to the town council for 120,000 gulden, a very large fortune. From this point onwards Nürnberg, in the style of Venice, called itself a republic up to 1806 when it was integrated into Bavaria.

In 1500 Nürnberg was the second biggest city in Germany, after Köln, with a population of approximately 40,000, about half of which lived inside the impressive city walls and the other half in the territory surrounding the city, which belonged to it.

a0004795f47e9ac8e47b93f935e325c5

Map of the city-state of Nürnberg by Abraham Ortelius 1590. the city itself is to the left just under the middle of the map. Large parts of the forest still exists and I live on the northern edge of it, Dormitz is a neighbouring village to the one where I live.

Small in comparison to the major Italian cities of the period but even today Germany is much more decentralised with its population more evenly distributed than other European countries. It was also one of the richest cities in the whole of Europe.

Pfinzing_Nürnberg_Grundriss

Nürnberg, Plan by Paul Pfinzing, 1594 Castles in the top left hand corner

Nürnberg’s wealth was based on two factors, trading, in 1500 at least 27 major trade routes ran through Nürnberg, which had over 90 customs unions with cities and regions throughout Europe, and secondly the manufacture of trading goods. It is now time to turn to this second branch of Nürnberg’s wealth but before doing so it is important to note that whereas in other trading centres in Europe individual traders competed with each other, Nürnberg function like a single giant corporation, with the city council as the board of directors, the merchant traders cooperating with each other on all levels for the general good of the city.

In 1363 Nürnberg had more than 1200 trades and crafts masters working in the city. About 14% worked in the food industry, bakes, butchers, etc. About 16% in the textile industry and another 27% working leather. Those working in wood or the building branch make up another 14% but the largest segment with 353 masters consisted of those working in metal, including 16 gold and silver smiths. By 1500 it is estimated that Nürnberg had between 2,000 and 3,000 trades and crafts master that is between 10 and 15 per cent of those living in the city with the metal workers still the biggest segment. The metal workers of Nürnberg produced literally anything that could be made of metal from sewing needles and nails to suits of armour. Nürnberg’s reputation as a producer rested on the quality of its metal wares, which they sold all over Europe and beyond. According to the Venetian accounts books, Nürnberg metal wares were the leading export goods to the orient. To give an idea of the scale of production at the beginning of the 16th century the knife makers and the sword blade makers (two separate crafts) had a potential production capacity of 80,000 blades a week. The Nürnberger armourers filled an order for armour for 5,000 soldiers for the Holy Roman Emperor, Karl V (1500–1558).

The Nürnberger craftsmen did not only produce goods made of metal but the merchant traders, full blood capitalists, bought into and bought up the metal ore mining industry–iron, copper, zinc, gold and silver–of Middle Europe, and beyond, (in the 16th century they even owned copper mines in Cuba) both to trade in ore and to smelt and trade in metal as well as to ensure adequate supplies for the home production. The council invested heavily in the industry, for example, providing funds for the research and development of the world’s first mechanical wire-pulling mill, which entered production in 1368.

Duerer_Drahtziehmuehle

The wirepulling mills of Nürnberg by Albrecht Dürer

Wire was required in large quantities to make chainmail amongst other things. Around 1500 Nürnberg had monopolies in the production of copper ore, and in the trade with steel and iron.  Scientific instruments are also largely made of metal so the Nürnberger gold, silver and copper smiths, and toolmakers also began to manufacture them for the export trade. There was large scale production of compasses, sundials (in particular portable sundials), astronomical quadrants, horary quadrants, torquetum, and astrolabes as well as metal drawing and measuring instruments such as dividers, compasses etc.

The city corporation of Nürnberg had a couple of peculiarities in terms of its governance and the city council that exercised that governance. Firstly the city council was made up exclusively of members of the so-called Patrizier. These were 43 families, who were regarded as founding families of the city all of them were merchant traders. There was a larger body that elected the council but they only gave the nod to a list of the members of the council that was presented to them. Secondly Nürnberg had no trades and crafts guilds, the trades and crafts were controlled by the city council. There was a tight control on what could be produced and an equally tight quality control on everything produced to ensure the high quality of goods that were traded. What would have motivated the council to enter the scientific instrument market, was there a demand here to be filled?

It is difficult to establish why the Nürnberg city corporation entered the scientific instrument market before 1400 but by the middle of the 15th century they were established in that market. In 1444 the Catholic philosopher, theologian and astronomer Nicolaus Cusanus (1401–1464) bought a copper celestial globe, a torquetum and an astrolabe at the Imperial Diet in Nürnberg. These instruments are still preserved in the Cusanus museum in his birthplace, Kues on the Mosel.

1280px-Bernkastel_Kues_Geburtshaus_Nikolaus_von_Kues

The Cusanus Museum in Kue

In fact the demand for scientific instrument rose sharply in the 15th & 16th centuries for the following reasons. In 1406 Jacopo d’Angelo produced the first Latin translation of Ptolemy’s Geographia in Florence, reintroducing mathematical cartography into Renaissance Europe. One can trace the spread of the ‘new’ cartography from Florence up through Austria and into Southern Germany during the 15th century. In the early 16th century Nürnberg was a major centre for cartography and the production of both terrestrial and celestial globes. One historian of cartography refers to a Viennese-Nürnberger school of mathematical cartography in this period. The availability of the Geographia was also one trigger of a 15th century renaissance in astronomy one sign of which was the so-called 1st Viennese School of Mathematics, Georg von Peuerbach (1423–1461) and Regiomontanus (1436–176), in the middle of the century. Regiomontanus moved to Nürnberg in 1471, following a decade wandering around Europe, to carry out his reform of astronomy, according to his own account, because Nürnberg made the best astronomical instruments and had the best communications network. The latter a product of the city’s trading activities. When in Nürnberg, Regiomontanus set up the world’s first scientific publishing house, the production of which was curtailed by his early death.

Another source for the rise in demand for instruments was the rise in interest in astrology. Dedicated chairs for mathematics, which were actually chairs for astrology, were established in the humanist universities of Northern Italy and Krakow in Poland early in the 15th century and then around 1470 in Ingolstadt. There were close connections between Nürnberg and the Universities of Ingolstadt and Vienna. A number of important early 16th century astrologers lived and worked in Nürnberg.

The second half of the 15th century saw the start of the so-called age of exploration with ships venturing out of the Iberian peninsular into the Atlantic and down the coast of Africa, a process that peaked with Columbus’ first voyage to America in 1492 and Vasco da Gama’s first voyage to India (1497–199). Martin Behaim(1459–1507), son of a Nürnberger cloth trading family and creator of the oldest surviving terrestrial globe, sat on the Portuguese board of navigation, probably, according to David Waters, to attract traders from Nürnberg to invest in the Portuguese voyages of exploration.  This massively increased the demand for navigational instruments.

258

The Erdapfel–the Behaim terrestial globe Germanische National Museum

Changes in the conduct of wars and in the ownership of land led to a demand for better, more accurate maps and the more accurate determination of boundaries. Both requiring surveying and the instruments needed for surveying. In 1524 Peter Apian (1495–1552) a product of the 2nd Viennese school of mathematics published his Cosmographia in Ingolstadt, a textbook for astronomy, astrology, cartography and surveying.

1024px-peter_apian

The Cosmographia went through more than 30 expanded, updated editions, but all of which, apart from the first, were edited and published by Gemma Frisius (1508–1555) in Louvain. In 1533 in the third edition Gemma Frisius added an appendix Libellus de locorum describendum ratione, the first complete description of triangulation, the central method of cartography and surveying down to the present, which, of course in dependent on scientific instruments.

g-f_triangulation

In 1533 Apian’s Instrumentum Primi Mobilis 

754l18409_9jhfv.jpg.thumb_.500.500

was published in Nürnberg by Johannes Petreius (c. 1497–1550) the leading scientific publisher in Europe, who would go on ten years later to publish, Copernicus’ De revolutionibus, which was a high point in the astronomical revival.

All of this constitutes a clear indication of the steep rise in the demand for scientific instruments in the hundred years between 1450 and 1550; a demand that the metal workers of Nürnberg were more than happy to fill. In the period between Regiomontanus and the middle of the 16th century Nürnberg also became a home for some of the leading mathematici of the period, mathematicians, astronomers, astrologers, cartographers, instrument makers and globe makers almost certainly, like Regiomontanus, at least partially attracted to the city by the quality and availability of the scientific instruments.  Some of them are well known to historians of Renaissance science, Erhard Etzlaub, Johannes Werner, Johannes Stabius (not a resident but a frequent visitor), Georg Hartmann, Johannes Neudörffer and Johannes Schöner.**

There is no doubt that around 1500, Nürnberg was one of the major producers and exporters of scientific instruments and I hope that I have shown above, in what is little more than a sketch of a fairly complex process, that this owed very little to science but much to the general geo-political and economic developments of the first 500 years of the city’s existence.

WI12; WI33 WI3; WI2; WI30;

One of the most beautiful sets on instruments manufactured in Nürnberg late 16th century. Designed by Johannes Pretorius (1537–1616), professor for astronomy at the Nürnberger University of Altdorf and manufactured by the goldsmith Hans Epischofer (c. 1530–1585) Germanische National Museum

 

**for an extensive list of those working in astronomy, mathematics, instrument making in Nürnberg (542 entries) see the history section of the Astronomie in Nürnberg website, created by Dr Hans Gaab.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 Comments

Filed under Early Scientific Publishing, History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, History of Mathematics, History of Navigation, History of science, History of Technology, Renaissance Science

3 into 2 does go!

It would of course be totally unethical for me to review a book of which I am one of the authors. However, as my contribution is only six of two-hundred pages, of which three are illustrations, and the book is one that could/would/should interest some (many) of my readers, I’m going to be unethical and review it anyway.

Thinking 3D is an intellectual idea, it is a website, it is exhibitions and other events, it is a book but above all it is two people, whose idea it is: Daryl Green, who was Fellow Librarian of Magdalen College, Oxford and is now Special Collections Librarian of the University of Edinburg and Laura Moretti, who is Senior Lecturer in Art History at the University of St Andrews. The Thinking 3D idea is the historical investigation of the representation of the three-dimensional world on the two-dimensional page particular, but not exclusively, in print.

The Thinking 3D website explains in great detail what it is all about and contains a full description of the activities that have been carried out. For those quarantined there is a fairly large collection of essays on various topics from the project.

In 2019 Thinking 3D launched a major exhibition with The Bodleian Libraries Oxford as part of the commemorations of the 500th anniversary of Leonardo da Vinci’s death, Thinking 3D From Leonardo to the Present, which ran from March 2019 to February 2020 and which I have been told was quite exceptional.

thinking 3d002

As an extension and permanent record of that exhibition Bodleian Libraries published a book, Thinking 3D: Books, Images and Ideas from Leonardo to the Present[1], which appeared in autumn 2019. This is both a coffee table book but also, at the same time, a piece of serious academic literature.

thinking 3d001

The book opens with a long essay by Green and Moretti, The history of thinking 3D in forty books, which delivers exactly what the title says. This is an excellent survey of the topic and it is worth reading the book just for this. However, it does contain one historical error that I, in my alter ego of the HIST_SCI HULK, simply cannot ignore, at least not if I want to maintain my hard won reputation. Having introduced the topic of Copernicus’ De revolutionibus the authors write:

As mentioned above, the oft-published heliocentric diagram, and its theoretical propositions, are what launched this book into infamy (the book was immediately put on the Catholic Church’s Index of Prohibited Books [my emphasis]), but the execution of this relational illustration is simple and reductive.

De revolutionibus was published in 1543 but was first placed on the Index sixty-three years later in 1616 and more importantly, as I wrote very recently, not for the first time, it was placed on the Index until corrected. These corrections, which were fairly minimal, were carried out surprisingly quickly and the book became available to be studied by Catholics already in 1621.

Other than this I noticed no other errors in the highly informative introductory essay, which is followed by an essay from Matthew Landrus, Leonardo da Vinci, 500 years on, which examines Leonardo’s three-dimensional perception of the world and everything in it. It was for me an interesting addition to my previous readings on the Tuscan polymath.

The main body of the book is taken up by sixteen fairly short essays in four categories: Geometry, Astronomy, Architecture and Anatomy.

Geometry starts off with Ken Saito’s presentation of a ninth century manuscript of The Elements of Euclid, where he demonstrates very clearly that the author has no real consistent, methodology for presenting a 3D space on a 2D page.   This is followed by Renzo Baldasso’s essay on Luca Pacioli’s De divina proportione (1509). Here the three dimensional solids are presented perfectly by Pacioli’s friend, colleague and one time pupil Leonardo. We return to Euclid for Yelda Nasifoglu’s investigation of the English translation of The Elements by Henry Billingsley in 1570. This volume is totally fascinating as three-dimensional figures are present as pop-up figure like those that we all know from our children’s books. The geometry section closes with a book that I didn’t know, Max Brückner’s Vielecke und Vielflache (1900) presented by George Hart. This is a vast collection of photographs of paper models of three-dimensional figures, which I learnt also influenced M. C. Escher a master of the third dimension.

thinking 3d004

Luca Pacioli De divina proportione

 

Karl Galle, Renaissance Mathematicus friend and guest blogger, kicks of the astronomy section with Johannes Kepler’s wonderfully bizarre presentation of the planetary orbits embedded in the five regular Platonic solids from his Mysterium Cosmographicum (1596). Yours truly is up next with an account of Galileo’s Sidereus Nuncius (1610) and it’s famous washes of the Moon displaying three-dimension features. Also covered are the later pirate editions that screwed up those illustrations. Stephanie O’Rourke presents one of the most extraordinary nineteenth century astronomy books James Nasmyth’s and James Carpenter’s The Moon: Considered as a Planet, a World, and a Satellite(1874). This contains stunningly realistic photographic plates of the Moon’s surface but which are not actually real. The two Jameses constructed plaster models that they then lit and photographed to achieve the desired effect. We close the astronomy section with Thinking 3D’s co-chef, Daryl Green, taking on a survey of the surface of Mars with the United Stated Geological Survey, Geological Map of Mars (1978).

thinking 3d005

Johannes Kepler Mysterium Cosmographicum

Turning our attention to architecture, we travel back to the twelfth century, with Karl Kinsella as our guide, to Richard of St Victor’s In visionen Ezekielis; a wonderfully modern in its presentation but somewhat unique medieval architectural manuscript. The other half of the Thinking 3D team, Laura Moretti now takes us up to the sixteenth century and Sebastiano Serlio’s catalogue of the buildings of Rome (1544), which has an impossibly long Italian title that I’m not going to repeat here. We remain in the sixteenth century for Jacques Androuet du Cerceau’s Le premier [et second] volume des plus excellent bastiment de France (1576–9), where our guide is Frédérique Lemerle. Moving forward a century we close out the architecture section with Francesco Marcorin introducing us to Hans Vredeman de Vries’s absolutely stunning Perspective (1604–5).

thinking 3d008

Hans Vredeman de Vries Perspective

It would not be too difficult to guess that the anatomy section opens with one of the greatest medical books of all time, Andreas Vesalius’ De fabrica but not with the full version but the shorter (cheaper?) De humani corporis fabrica libroum epitome, like the full version published in 1543 in Basel. Our guide to Vesalius’ masterpiece is Mark Samos. Camilla Røstvik introduces us to William Hunter’s The Anatomy of the Human Gravid Uterus (1774), as she makes very clear a milestone in the study of women’s bodies with its revolutionary and controversial study of the pregnant body. For me this essay was a high point in a collection of truly excellent essays. We stay in the eighteenth century for Jacques Fabien Gautier D’Agoty’s Exposition anatomique des organes des sens (1775). Dániel Margócsy present a fascinating guide to the controversial work of this pioneer of colour printing. Anatomy, and the book as a whole, closes with Denis Pellerin’s essay on Arthur Thomson’s Anatomy of the Human Eye (1912). Thomson’s book was accompanied by a collection of stereoscopic images of the anatomy of the eye together with a stereoscope with which to view the 3D images thus created; a nineteenth century technology that was already dying out when Thomson published his work.

thinking 3d009

William Hunter The Anatomy of the Human Gravid Uterus

The book closes with a bibliography of five books for further reading for each essay, brief biography of each of the authors, a glossary of technical terms and a good general index. All sixteen of the essays are short, informative, light to read, easily accessible introductions to the volumes that they present and maintain a high academic quality throughout the entire book.

I said at the outset that this is also a coffee table book and that was not meant negatively. It measures 24X26 cm and is printed on environmentally friendly, high gloss paper. The typeface is attractive and light on the eyes and the illustrations are, as is to be expected for a book about the history of book illustration, spectacularly beautiful. The publishing team of the Bodleian Libraries are to be congratulated on an excellent publication. If you leave this on your coffee table then your visitors will soon be leafing though it admiring the pictures, whether they are interested in book history or not. I don’t usually mention the price of books that I review but at £35 this beautifully presented and wonderfully informative volume is very good value for money.

[1] Thinking 3D: Books, Images and Ideas from Leonardo to the Present, edited by Daryl Green and Laura Moretti, Bodleian Library, Oxford, 2019.

3 Comments

Filed under Book Reviews, Early Scientific Publishing, History of Astronomy, History of Mathematics, History of medicine

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part XXXII

In the seventeenth century large parts of Europe were still Catholic; in 1616 the Catholic Church had placed De revolutionibus and all other texts promoting a heliocentric world-view on the Index of Forbidden Books and in 1632 they added Galileo’s Dialogo sopra i due massimi sistemi del mondo (Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems), so the question arises, how was knowledge of the heliocentric model disseminated? The answer is, somewhat surprisingly, that the dissemination of the heliocentric hypothesis was, even in Catholic countries, widespread and through diverse channels.

First off, although De revolutionibus was placed on the Index in 1616, it was only placed there until corrected. In fact, somewhat against the norm, it was actually corrected surprisingly quickly and, with a few rather minor changes, became freely available again for Catholic scholars by 1621. The astronomers within the Church had been able to convince the theologians of the importance of Copernicus’ work as an astronomy book even if one rejected the truth of the heliocentric hypothesis. The only changes were that any statements of the factual truth of the hypothesis were removed, so anybody with a censured copy could quite happily think those statements back into place for himself.

The Lutheran Protestant Church also rejected the heliocentric hypothesis but never formally banned it in anyway. In fact, from very early on, the astronomers and mathematicians at the Lutheran universities had begun teaching Copernicus’ work as a purely mathematical, instrumentalist thesis, whilst rejecting it as a true account of the cosmos. It was used, for example, by Erasmus Reinhold (1511–1553) using Copernicus’ data and mathematical models to calculate the Prutenicae Tabulae (1551), without however committing to heliocentricity. They maintained this instrumentalist approach throughout the seventeenth century utilising the most up to date books as they became available, without crediting the hypothesis with any truth. From about 1630 onwards, Kepler’s Epitome Astronomiae Copernicanae (3 Vols. 1617–1621) and his Tabulae Rudolphinae (1627) became the leading textbooks for teaching the heliocentric hypothesis. The latter was used both sides of the religious divide because it was quite simply vastly superior in its accuracy to any other volume of planetary tables on the market.

However, the mainstream pro heliocentricity texts were not the only published sources spreading the information of the heliocentric hypothesis and making the information available across Europe. One, perhaps surprising, source was the yearly astrological almanacs.

gettyimages-578341726-1024x1024

These annual pamphlets or booklets contained the astronomical and astrological data for the coming year, phases of the moon, hours of sunlight, any eclipse or planetary conjunctions etc. They also included basic horoscopes for the year covering political developments, weather forecasts, health issues and whatever. These were immensely popular and printed on cheap paper and not bound were reasonably cheap, so they sold in comparatively vast numbers, having much larger editions than any printed books. The market was fiercely contested so to make sure that their product was preferred by the potential customers, who came from all levels of society, the authors and/or publishers included editorials covering a wide range of topic. These editorials often contained medical issues but in the seventeenth century they also often contained popular expositions of the heliocentric hypothesis. Given the widespread consume of these publications it meant that basic knowledge of heliocentricity reached a large audience.

Another important source for the dissemination of the heliocentric hypothesis was in the writings of some of those who, nominally at least, opposed it. I will now take a brief look at two of those authors the Italian, Jesuit astronomer, mathematician and physicist Giovanni Battista Riccioli (1598–1671) and the French, priest, philosopher, astronomer and mathematician Pierre Gassendi (1592–1655) both of whom were highly influential and widely read scholars in the middle of the seventeenth century.

Pierre Gassendi is one of those figures in the history of science, who deserve to be better known than they are. Well known to historians of science and philosophy he remains largely unknown to those outside those disciplines. He was a central figure in the intellectual life of Europe in the middle of the seventeenth century part of the philosophical circle in Paris that included René Descartes, Marin Mersenne, Thomas Hobbes and Jean-Baptiste Morin amongst others. He also travelled to Holland and made the acquaintance of Isaac Beeckman. Probably his most important contribution to the evolution of science was his attempt to reconcile Epicurean atomism with Christian theology.

PierreGassendi

Pierre Gassendi after Louis-Édouard Rioult. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Throughout his life he actively promoted the work of both Kepler and Galileo. He wrote and published a biography of Nicolas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc (1580–1637), his patron, an astronomer and another supporter of the works of Galileo.  Shortly before the end of his life he published a collective biography of Tycho Brahe, Nicolaus Copernicus, Georg von Peuerbach and Johannes Regiomontanus: Tychonis Brahei, equitis Dani, astronomorum Coryphaei, vita; accessit Nicolai Copernici; Georgii Peurbachii, et Joannis Regiomontani, astronomorum celebrium vita (1654).

bub_gb_SQAVAAAAQAAJ-2

In 1645 Gassendi was appointed professor of mathematics at the Collège Royal in Paris and during his time there he wrote and published an astronomy textbook presenting both the Tychonic and heliocentric astronomical systems, Institvtio astronomica, iuxta hypothesis tam vetervm, qvam Copernici, et Tychonis. Dictata à Petro Gassendo … Eivsdem oratio inauguralis iteratò edita (1647).

bub_gb_X1rDu4YlifAC-2

Although, as a Catholic priest, he presented the Tychonic system as the correct one his treatment of heliocentricity was detailed, thorough and very sympathetic. Perhaps somewhat too sympathetic, as it led to him being investigated by the Inquisition, who however gave him a clean bill of health. Because of his excellent reputation his book was read widely and acted as a major source for the dissemination of the heliocentric hypothesis.

Like Gassendi, Riccioli was an important and influential figure in seventeenth century science. From 1636 he was professor in Bologna where did much important work in astronomy and physics as well as being the teacher of Giovanni Domenico Cassini (1625–1712), who we will meet later in this series.

Giovanni_Battista_Riccioli_from_DoppelMayr

Riccioli as portrayed in the 1742 Atlas Coelestis (plate 3) of Johann Gabriel Doppelmayer. Source: Wikimedia Commons

He is perhaps best known for his pioneering selenology together with his former student, Francesco Maria Grimaldi (1618–1663), which provided the nomenclature system for the moons geological features still in use today.  As stated earlier it was Riccioli, who provided the necessary empirical proof of Galileo’s laws of fall. He also hypothesised the existence of, what later became known as the Coriolis effect, if the Earth did in fact rotate.

If a ball is fired along a Meridian toward the pole (rather than toward the East or West), diurnal motion will cause the ball to be carried off [that is, the trajectory of the ball will be deflected], all things being equal: for on parallels of latitude nearer the poles, the ground moves more slowly, whereas on parallels nearer the equator, the ground moves more rapidly.

Having failed to detect it, it does exist but is too small to be measured using the methods available to Riccioli, he concluded that the Earth does not in fact rotate.

This was just one of many arguments pro and contra the heliocentric hypothesis that Riccioli presented in his Almagestum novum astronomiam veterem novamque complectens observationibus aliorum et propriis novisque theorematibus, problematibus ac tabulis promotam (Vol. I–III, 1651), a vast astronomical encyclopaedia that became a standard astronomical textbook throughout Europe. Although Riccioli rejected the heliocentric hypothesis his very detailed and thorough analysis of it with all its strengths and weaknesses meant that his book became a major source for those wishing to learn about it.

800px-almagestumnovumfrontispiece

Frontispiece of Riccioli’s 1651 New Almagest. Source: Wikimedia Commons

This famous frontispiece shows a semi-Tychonic system being weighed against a heliocentric system and being found more substantial. Ptolemaeus lies on the ground under the scales obviously defeated but he is saying “I will rise again”.

As we have seen, although not provable at that stage and nominally banned by the Catholic Church, information on and details of the heliocentric hypothesis were widespread and easily accessible throughout the seventeenth century from multiple sources and thus knowledge of it and interest in it continued to spread throughout the century.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 Comments

Filed under Early Scientific Publishing, History of Astrology, History of Astronomy, History of science, Renaissance Science

War, politics, religion and scientia

There is a strong tendency to view the history of science and the people who produced it in a sort of vacuum, outside of everyday society–Copernicus published this, Kepler published that, Newton synthesised it all… In fact the so-called scientific revolution took place in one of the most troubled times in European history, the age of the religious wars, the main one of which the Thirty Years War is thought to have been responsible directly and indirectly for the death of between one third and two thirds of the entire population of middle Europe. Far from being isolated from this turbulence the figures, who created modern science, were right in the middle of it and oft deeply involved and affected by it.

The idea for this blog post sort of crept into my brain as I was writing my review, two weeks ago, of two books about female spies during the English Revolution and Interregnum that is the 1640s to the 1660s. Isaac Newton was born during this period and grew up during it and, as I will now sketch, was personally involved in the political turbulence that followed on from it.

Born on Christmas Day in 1642 (os) shortly after the outbreak of the first of the three wars between the King and Parliament, Britain’s religious wars, he was just nine years old when Charles I was executed at the end of the second war.

GodfreyKneller-IsaacNewton-1689

Portrait of Newton by Godfrey Kneller, 1689 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Newton was too young to be personally involved in the wars but others whose work would be important to his own later developments were. The Keplerian astronomer William Gascoigne (1612-1644), who invented the telescope micrometer, an important development in the history of the telescope, died serving in the royalist forces at the battle of Marston Moor. The mathematician John Wallis (1616–1703), whose Arithmetica Infinitorum (1656) strongly influenced Newton’s own work on infinite series and calculus, worked as a code breaker for Cromwelland later for Charles II after the restoration.

john_wallis_by_sir_godfrey_kneller_bt

John Wallis by Sir Godfrey Kneller

Newton first went up to university after the restoration but others of an earlier generation suffered loss of university position for being on the wrong side at the wrong time. John Wilkins (1614–1672), a parliamentarian and Cromwell’s brother-in-law, was appointed Master of Trinity College Cambridge, Newton’s college, in 1659 and removed from this position at the restoration. Wilkins’ Mathematical Magick (1648) had been a favourite of Newton’s in his youth.

Greenhill, John, c.1649-1676; John Wilkins (1614-1672), Warden (1648-1659)

Greenhill, John; John Wilkins (1614-1672), Warden (1648-1659); Wadham College, University of Oxford;

Newton’s political career began in 1689 following the so-called Glorious Revolution, when James II was chased out of Britain by William of Orange, his son-in-law, invited in by the parliament out of fear that James could reintroduce Catholicism into Britain. Newton sat in the House of Commons as MP for the University of Cambridge in the parliament of 1689, which passed the Bill of Rights, effectively a new constitution for England. Newton was not very active politically but he identified as a Whig, the party of his student Charles Montagu (1661–1715), who would go on to become one of the most powerful politicians of the age. It was Montagu, who had Newton appointed to lead the Royal Mint and it was also Montagu, who had Newton knighted in 1705in an attempt to get him re-elected to parliament.

In the standard version of story Newton represents the end of the scientific revolution and Copernicus (1473–1543) the beginning. Religion, politics and war all played a significant role in Copernicus’ life.

Nikolaus_Kopernikus

Copernicus, the “Torun portrait” (anonymous, c. 1580), kept in Toruń town hall, Poland.

Copernicus spent the majority of his life living in the autonomous prince-bishopric of Warmia, where as a canon of the cathedral he was effectively a member of the government. Warmia was a Catholic enclave under the protection of the Catholic Crown of Poland but as the same time was geographically part of Royal Prussia ruled over by Duke Albrecht of Prussia (1490–1568), who had converted to Lutheran Protestantism in 1552. Ironically he was converted by Andreas Osiander (1498–1552), who would go on the author the controversial ad lectorum in Copernicus’ De revolutionibus. Relations between Poland and Royal Prussia were strained at best and sometimes spilled over into armed conflict. Between 1519 and 1521 there was a war between Poland and Royal Prussia, which took place mostly in Warmia. The Prussians besieged Frombork burning down the town, but not the cathedral, forcing Copernicus to move to Allenstein (Olsztyn), where he was put in charge of organising the defences during a siege from January to February 1521.  Military commander in a religious war in not a role usually associated with Copernicus. It is an interesting historical conundrum that, during this time of religious strife, De revolutionibus, the book of a Catholic cathedral canon, was published by a Protestant printer in a strongly Protestant city-state, Nürnberg.

The leading figure of the scientific revolution most affected by the religious wars of the age must be Johannes Kepler. A Lutheran Protestant he studied and graduated at Tübingen, one of the leading Protestant universities. However, he was despatched by the university authorities to become the mathematics teacher at the Protestant school in Graz in Styria, a deeply Catholic area in Austria in 1594. He was also appointed district mathematicus.

1024px-Johannes_Kepler_1610

Johannes Kepler Source: Wikimedia Commons

In 1598, Archduke Ferdinand, who became ruler of Styria in 1596, expelled all Protestant teachers and pastors from the province. Kepler was initially granted an exception because he had proved his worth as district mathematicus but in a second wave of expulsion, he too had to go. After failing to find employment elsewhere, he landed in Prague as an assistant to Tycho Brahe, the Imperial Mathematicus.

Tycho_de_brahe1

Tycho Brahe Source: Wikimedia Commons

Once again he, like Tycho, was a Protestant in a Catholic city serving a Catholic Emperor, Rudolf II. Here he soon inherited Tycho’s position as Imperial Mathematicus. However, Rudolf was tolerant, more interested in Kepler’s abilities as an astrologer than in his religious beliefs. Apart from a substantial problem in getting paid in the permanently broke imperial court, Kepler now enjoyed a fairly quiet live for the next twelve years, then everything turned pear shaped once more.

In 1612, Rudolf’s younger brother Archduke Matthias deposed him and although Kepler was allowed to keep his title of Imperial Mathematicus, and theoretically at least, his salary but he was forced to leave Prague and become district mathematicus in Linz. In Linz Kepler, who openly propagated ecumenical ideas towards other Protestant communities, most notably the Calvinists, ran into conflict with the local Lutheran pastor. The pastor demanded that Kepler sign the Formula of Concord, basically a commitment to Lutheran theology and a rejection of all other theologies. Kepler refused and was barred from Holy Communion, a severe blow for the deeply religious astronomer. He appealed to the authorities in Tübingen but they up held the ban.

In 1618 the Thirty Years War broke out and in 1620 Linz was occupied by the Catholic army of Duke Maximilian of Bavaria, which caused problems for Kepler as a Lutheran. At the same time he was fighting for the freedom of his mother, Katharina, who had been accused of witchcraft. Although he won the court case against his mother, she died shortly after regaining her freedom. In 1625, the Counterreformation reach Linz and the Protestants living there were once again persecuted. Once more Kepler was granted an exception because of his status as Imperial Mathematicus but his library was confiscated making it almost impossible for him to work, so he left Linz.

Strangely, after two years of homeless wandering Kepler moved to Sagen in Silesia in 1628, the home of Albrecht von Wallenstein the commander of the Catholic forces in the war and for whom Kepler had interpreted a horoscope much earlier in life. Kepler never found peace or stability again in his life and died in Ulm in 1630. Given the turbulence in his life and the various forced moves, which took years rather than weeks, it is fairly amazing that he managed to publish eighty-three books and pamphlets between 1596 and his death in 1630.

A younger colleague of Kepler’s who also suffered during the Thirty Years’ War was Wilhelm Schickard, who Kepler had got to know during his time in Württemberg defending his mother. Schickard would go on to produce the illustrations both Kepler’s Epitome Astronomiae Copernicanae and his Harmonice Mundi, as well as inventing a calculating machine to help Kepler with his astronomical calculations. In 1632 Württemberg was invaded by the Catholic army, who brought the plague with them, by 1635 Schickard, his wife and his four living children, his sister and her three daughters had all died of the plague.

1200px-c_melperger_-_wilhelm_schickard_1632

Wilhelm Schickard, artist unknown Source: Wikimedia Commons

As I have pointed out on numerous occasions Galileo’s initial problems in 1615-16 had less to do with his scientific views than with his attempts to tell the theologians how to interpret the Bible, not an intelligent move at the height of the Counterreformation. Also in 1632 his problems were very definitely compounded by the fact that he was perceived to be on the Spanish side in the conflict between the Spanish and French Catholic authorities to influence, control the Pope, Urban VIII.

Galileo_by_leoni

Galileo Portrait by Ottavio Leoni Source: Wikimedia Commons

I will just mention in passing that René Descartes served as a soldier in the first two years of the Thirty Year’s War, at first in the Protestant Dutch States Army under Maurice of Nassau and then under the Catholic Duke of Bavaria, Maximilian. In 1620 he took part in the Battle of the White Mountain near Prague, which marked the end of Elector Palatine Frederick V’s reign as King of Bohemia. During his time in the Netherlands Descartes trained as a military engineer, which was his introduction to the works of Simon Stevin and Isaac Beeckman.

Frans_Hals_-_Portret_van_René_Descartes

René Descartes Portrait after Frans Hals Source: Wikimedia Commons

We have now gone full circle and are almost back to Isaac Newton. One interesting aspect of these troubled times is that although the problems caused by the wars, the religious disputes and the associated politics caused major problems in the lives of the astronomers and mathematicians, who were forced to live through them, and certainly affected their ability to carry on with their work, I can’t somehow imagine Copernicus working on De revolutionibus during the siege of Allenstein, the scholars themselves communicated quite happily across the religious divide.

Rheticus was treated as an honoured guest in Catholic Warmia although he was a professor at the University of Wittenberg, home to both Luther and Melanchthon. Copernicus himself was personal physician to both the Catholic Bishop of Frombork and the Protestant Duke of Royal Prussia. As we have seen, Kepler spent a large part of his life, although a devoted Protestant, serving high-ranking Catholic employers. The Jesuits, who knew Kepler from Prague, even invited him to take the chair for mathematics at the Catholic University of Bologna following the death of Giovanni Antonio Magini in 1617, assuring him that he did not need to convert. Although it was a very prestigious university Kepler, I think wisely, declined the invitation. The leading mathematicians of the time all communicated with each other, either directly or through intermediaries, irrespective of their religious beliefs. Athanasius Kircher, professor for mathematics and astronomy at the Jesuit Collegio Romano, collected astronomical data from Jesuits all over the world, which he then distributed to astronomers all over Europe, Catholic and Protestant, including for example the Lutheran Leibniz. Christiaan Huygens, a Dutch Calvinist, spent much of his life working as an honoured guest in Catholic Paris, where he met and influenced the Lutheran Leibniz.

When we consider the lives of scientists we should always bear in mind that they are first and foremost human beings, who live and work, like all other human beings, in the real world with all of its social, political and religious problems and that their lives are just as affected by those problems as everybody else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 Comments

Filed under History of Astronomy, History of Mathematics, History of science, Newton, Renaissance Science

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part XXXI

Of all the discoveries made during the first phase of telescopic astronomical discoveries perhaps the more impactful was the discovery by various observers of the phases of Venus, which showed that Venus in fact orbited the Sun and not the Earth. This was the first real empirical proof that a pure geocentric system of astronomy was not possible. Because Mercury displayed the same behaviour as Venus in never moving more than a few degrees from the Sun as viewed from the Earth it was assumed, by analogy, that Mercury also orbited the Sun and not the Earth. This observed behaviour of Venus and Mercury had already led Martianus Capella (fl. c. 410–420) in late antiquity to hypothesise that both of them orbited the Sun and not the Earth. The Capellan system was widespread and well known in Europe during the Middle Ages. Unfortunately due to its comparatively small size and distance from the Earth, and the inadequacies of the most used Dutch or Galilean telescopes it would be almost three decades before anybody succeeded in observing the phases of Mercury.

Naboth_Capella

Naboth’s representation of Martianus Capella’s geo-heliocentric astronomical model (1573) Source: Wikimedia Commons

The knowledge that Venus orbited the sun and the assumption that Mercury also did led to the possibility of observing a so-called transit of one or other of them, i.e. the passage of the planet across the face of the Sun, as observed from the Earth. What would appear to be simply simple is in fact complicated by various factors. Principally the orbits of the Earth and Venus and/or Mercury around the Sun do not actually lie in the same plane. Taken Venus, for example, its orbit is tilted with respect to the Earth’s this means that most times when Venus is between the Earth and the Sun, it mostly passes above or below it rather than in front of it. Transits of Mercury take place approximately 13 or 14 times per century. Transits of Venus are less frequent taking place over a 243 year-cycle, two transits separated by eight years followed by long gaps of 121.5 and 105.5 years.

In order to be able to observe transits of the inner planets an astronomer requires detailed, accurate planetary tables, which allow them to predict the occurrence of the transit. Following the discovery of the phases of Venus it was Johannes Kepler (1571–1630), who, with the Rudolphine Tables (1627), first provided a set of planetary tables accurate enough to predict a transit of either Venus or Mercury.

According to Kepler’s calculations there should have been transits of both Mercury and Venus in 1631. Kepler did his best to draw astronomers’ attention to these occurrences with his De raris mirisque Anni 1631 including anadmonitio ad astronomos (1629), because their observation would they would help astronomers to settle the question of the true size of the planetary orbits, which up till then known relative to the Earth’s distance from the Sun, an unknown distance, and to determine the angular sizes of Mercury and Venus.

592c58de04445bd71cdf9766d00480b2

Kepler died in 1630 but his son in law, the astronomer Jacob Bartsch (c. 1600–1633) published a printed pamphlet advising European astronomers of Kepler’s information.

Strangely there is no information that Bartsch observed the Transit of Mercury on 7 November 1631 but at least four other European astronomers did. The first was the German astronomer, astrologer, physician and calendar writer, Johann Rudrauf (1588–1654), known Johannes Remus Quietanus, a correspondent of Galileo, Kepler and Johannes Faber. Rudrauf observed the transit from Rufach in the Alsace border region between Germany and France, where he was town physician. The second was the Swiss Jesuit astronomer Johann Baptist Cysat (c. 1587–1657), who had been a student and assistant of Christoph Scheiner (c. 1573–1650) at the University of Ingolstadt and became his successor as professor of mathematics in 1618. Cysat observed the transit from Innsbruck in Austria.

Cysatus

Johann Baptist Cysat Source: Wikimedia Commons

The third observer was the French philosopher, astronomer and mathematician, Pierre Gassendi (1592–1655), who observed the transit from Paris. A fourth unknown astronomer observed the transit from Ingolstadt.

PierreGassendi

Pierre Gassendi after Louis-Édouard Rioult Source: Wikimedia Commons

Gassendi’s account of the transit was the most widely read and studied so he is usually credited with being the first to observe a transit of Mercury. On 6 December 1631 Gassendi tried to observe the transit of Venus that had been predicted by Kepler unaware that because it took place during the night it wasn’t visible from Europe.

Transit_Of_Mercury,_May_9th,_2016

Transit of Mercury on May 9, 2016 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Kepler’s tables predicted no further transits of either Mercury or Venus for the seventeenth century so theoretically nobody would have set out to observe one. However, a young, self taught, English astronomer, Jeremiah Horrocks (1618–1641)did something quite extraordinary. Studying Kepler’s Rudolphine Tables Horrocks’ realised there would be another transit of Venus on 24 November 1639 (os) (4 December (ns)). Horrocks and his friend and fellow amateur astronomer William Crabtree (1610–1644) both observed the transit that Horrocks had predicted, Crabtree from Manchester and Horrocks from Much Hoole by Preston about 40 miles north of Manchester.

JeremiahHorrocks

Jeremiah Horrocks makes the first observation of the transit of Venus in 1639, as imagined by the artist W. R. Lavender in 1903 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Both of them made their observations by projecting the telescopic image on to a sheet of paper. Horrocks wrote an extensive report of their observations calculating both the size of Venus and the distance between the Earth and the Sun. Unfortunately Horrocks died in 1641 just 23 years old and his report of the first ever observation of a transit of Venus, Venus in sole visa, was first published was first published by the astronomer Johannes Hevelius (1611–1687)in Danzig in 1662.

unnamed

In 1639 the Italian Jesuit astronomer Giovanni Battista Zupi (1589–1650) succeeded in observing the orbital phases of Mercury using an astronomical telescope (two convex lenses) constructed by the Neapolitan astronomer, mathematician and telescope maker Francesco Fontana (1585–c. 1656).

1024px-Francesco-Fontana

Zupi and Fontana often observed together and Zupi’s observations of the phases of Mercury were published in Fontana’s Novae Colestium in 1646.

novaecoelestiumt00font

The observations of the transits of Mercury and Venus, and the phases of Mercury was final empirical proof, if it was needed, that both of the inner planets orbited the Sun and not the Earth nailing down the lid on the coffin of a pure geocentric, astronomical system. However, by the time these observations were made the majority of the astronomical community had already decided that only Kepler’s elliptical system or a Tychonic system with diurnal rotation were acceptable as the true system. The observations were of course compatible with both systems, so a final decision was not yet possible.

 

4 Comments

Filed under History of Astronomy, Renaissance Science

My name is Bond, Jamie Bond.

Today we have a first at the Renaissance Mathematicus, a book review of two interrelated books that have nothing, or at least very little, to do with the histories of science and mathematics. They, however, both deal with England during the Revolution (Civil War) and Interregnum in the middle of the seventeenth century, so very much home territory for this blog.

The word spy is one that for most people instantly evokes a male figure, for someone of my generation, a man in a dinner jacket with a martini glass in one hand and a Beretta pistol in the other. Very few people would immediately associate the word spy with a woman, although there have been some notable female spies throughout history. Dutch historian of early modern English literature Nadine Akkerman, Reader at Leiden University, stumbled across a female spy during her research into the correspondence of Elizabeth Stuart, Queen of Bohemia (1596–1662), who lived out the last forty years of her life in The Hague. Inspired by this discovery Akkerman, who believed that female spies were perhaps not so rare as one might suspect, began to systematically search archives for traces of other women involved in espionage in the seventeenth century. The result of her researches appeared in a book two years ago, Invisible Agents: Women and Espionage in Seventeenth-Century Britain. [1] The paperback, that I’ve been reading, was published just this month.

Invisible Agents001

Akkerman’s book is a truly excellent piece of historical scholarship. Her, apparently tireless, excavations of the archives have turned up a large amount of evidence for the existence and activities of female spies, or as she prefers to call them she-intelligencers, as they were then commonly known, in the three decades of the seventeenth century, 1640s to1660s, in Britain. She has sorted, analysed and interpreted this flood of data to produce a coherent narrative about her she-intelligencers. From the start she explains that there is both too much data and too much of it fragmentary to produce a complete picture of the women involved in espionage in this period so instead she presents the reader with a series of case studies.

The first chapter deals with the mostly aristocratic women who worked as she-intelligencers for Charles I during his imprisonment by the parliamentary forces acting as couriers in the various plots to free the king. These women, on the whole, engaged in these activities out of loyalty to king and country. This is contrasted in the second chapter with accounts of the largely working class women, who sold information to Thurloe the parliamentary spymaster. Here we should note in particular, for later, her account of Diana Stewart, who appears to have supplied information to both sides, a double agent perhaps, or was she simply some sort of early modern con artist?

The third chapter is dedicated to the story of Susan Hyde, the sister of Sir Edward Hyde, a prominent royalist politician, who became 1st Earl of Clarendon and Lord Chancellor under Charles II. Susan Hyde was an active royalist she-intelligencer but has till now remained under the radar and Akkerman is the first to entangle and tell her story, giving it the attention it deserves. The next two chapters deal with Elizabeth Murray, who unlike Susan Hyde is a well-documented historical figure. Here Akkerman displays her analytical talents to the full. In the first chapter she deconstructs the accepted historical narrative about Murray and shows why it is at best dubious and at worst false. In the second chapter she reconstructs Murray’s story using the sources that she has excavated in her research.

Following Murray we have another Elizabeth, Elizabeth Carey, Lady Mordaunt. A she-intelligencer, who together with her husband was involved in espionage during the late phases of the Interregnum. Of particular interest here is Akkerman’s analysis of Carey through her correspondence with the gardener and diarist John Evelyn. Next up, is Anne, Lady Halkett and another deconstruction by Akkerman. This time she deconstructs the interpretations by other literary historians of Halkett’s own extensive written account of her espionage activities. The final figure in the book is probably the most well known female English author of the seventeenth century Aphra Behn, who was also a she-spy, or was she? Another deconstruction job by Akkerman.

Each subject in the book is presented in the full political and social context of her times. Her activities are described in as much detail as the sources allow and we, the readers, are introduced to the full array of early modern espionage activities. The post offices and the post routes the coded letters, the cyphers used, the secret societies, the counter espionage activities of the other side and the fate of those, who were trapped by those counter espionage activities. After having read Akkerman’s book one comes away with a rich knowledge of the activities of the seventeenth century English she-intelligencers.

Akkerman’s book is a masterpiece in the assimilation, ordering and interpretation of archival sources within a given historical area and can be held up as an example of how to do and present historical research. The book bristles with extensive footnotes, no endnotes, and has an equally extensive bibliography of both primary and secondary sources. The index is first class and is followed by an Index Occultus, a key to all the code names used in the original source documents for the historical characters in the book.

At the beginning I said this was a review of two interrelated book, the second is the novel Killing Beauties by Pete Langman[2].

Invisible Agents002

As far as I know this is Langman’s first novel but it is not, by a long chalk, his first artistic endeavour. A one time rock guitarist and then music teacher, he has worked as a music journalist, is a cricketer and along the way acquired a doctorate in early modern literature with a thesis about Francis Bacon. On a side note he gently and politely corrects me when I say something stupid about the Viscount St. Alban. Pete Langman also suffers from early-onset Parkinson’s disease and is the author of the highly acclaimed Slender Threads: A young person’s guide to Parkinson’s Disease.[3]

Pete Langman is also Nadine Akkerman’s partner and has borrowed two of the central figures from Invisible Agents, Diana Stewart and Susan Hyde, to weave a semi-fictional tale of espionage in the Interregnum, imaginatively filling out the gaps in Akkerman’s research.

Langman takes his readers on a fascinating journey through the streets, alleyways, drinking holes, apothecaries and seats of espionage of Interregnum London, evoking an authentic picture of life in the capital city in Cromwell’s time. A wide cast of fascinating and captivating characters lead the readers through the twists and turns of a risky espionage coup and the counter espionage moves to prevent that coup from being put into effect. None of the characters is entirely good or entirely bad but each of them is a real human being with all the normal faults and virtues, meaning that one doesn’t end up rooting for one side or the other, or at least I didn’t. There are enough twists and turns in the narrative to delight Agatha Christie fans and things don’t necessarily turn out, as you might have expected during the earlier chapters.

Langman’s voice is the authoritative voice of the seventeenth century historian but is is the voice of the story teller and not the lecturer, the artist and not the teacher. He recreates a visceral and authentic picture of a period of English history when the populous was torn between two philosophies of life and politics and some paid for their beliefs in one or other of those systems with their honour and even their lives.

His book is both an excellent historical novel and an excellent espionage novel that should delight fans of both genres and is also a wonderful companion to Akkerman’s historical presentation of the material. I would recommend both books to anybody interested in seventeenth century Britain, the history of espionage or simply just good writing. According to taste a potential reader can choose one or the other, but if you should choose to read both then I would recommend first reading Langman’s novel and then Akkerman’s historical presentation as the back story.

Disclosure: As should be obvious from various comments in this review, Pete Langman is an Internet friend, known as @elegantfowl on Twitter, with whom I share a mutual interest in the guitar playing of Gary Lucas and the history of seventeenth century science, amongst other things. Unbound is a crowd funding book publisher and when Pete announced on Twitter that he was trying to publish a novel on Unbound I became a subscriber, which is why I came to read Killing Beauties. Having read it, I was intrigued enough to acquire Invisible Agents when it appeared in paperback. Some might therefore not regard me as a neutral reviewer but as I have said in the past in similar circumstances if I didn’t like the book then I wouldn’t have reviewed it.

[1] Nadine Akkerman, Invisible Agents: Women and Espionage in Seventeenth-Century Britain, OUP, Oxford, 2018, ppb. 2020

[2] Pete Langman, Killing Beauties, Unbound, London, 2020.

[3] Pete Langman, Slender Threads: A young person’s guide to Parkinson’s Disease, Self Published, 2013. On a personal note, Pete said some very sensible and comforting things when I discussed my own problems with coming to terms with my brother’s Parkinson’s with him.

8 Comments

Filed under Book Reviews, Uncategorized

The emergence of modern astronomy – a complex mosaic: Part XXX

As stated earlier the predominant medieval view of the cosmos was an uneasy bundle of Aristotle’s cosmology, Ptolemaic astronomy, Aristotelian terrestrial mechanics, which was not Aristotle’s but had evolved out of it, and Aristotle’s celestial mechanics, which we will look at in a moment. As also pointed out earlier this was not a static view but one that was constantly being challenged from various other models. In the early seventeenth century the central problem was, having demolished nearly all of Aristotle’s cosmology and shown Ptolemaic astronomy to be defective, without however yet having found a totally convincing successor, to now find replacements for the terrestrial and celestial mechanics. We have looked at the development of the foundations for a new terrestrial mechanics and it is now time to turn to the problem of a new celestial mechanics. The first question we need to answer is what did Aristotle’s celestial mechanics look like and why was it no longer viable?

The homocentric astronomy in which everything in the heavens revolve around a single central point, the earth, in spheres was created by the mathematician and astronomer Eudoxus of Cnidus (c. 390–c. 337 BCE), a contemporary and student of Plato (c. 428/27–348/47 BCE), who assigned a total of twenty-seven spheres to his system. Callippus (c. 370–c. 300 BCE) a student of Eudoxus added another seven spheres. Aristotle (384–322 BCE) took this model and added another twenty-two spheres. Whereas Eudoxus and Callippus both probably viewed this model as a purely mathematical construction to help determine planetary position, Aristotle seems to have viewed it as reality. To explain the movement of the planets Aristotle thought of his system being driven by friction. The outermost sphere, that of the fixed stars drove the outer most sphere of Saturn, which in turn drove the next sphere down in the system and so on all the way down to the Moon. According to Aristotle the outermost sphere was set in motion by the unmoved mover. This last aspect was what most appealed to the churchmen of the medieval universities, who identified the unmoved mover with the Christian God.

102016169_univ_cnt_2_xl-768x569

During the Middle Ages an aspect of vitalism was added to this model, with some believing that the planets had souls, which animated them. Another theory claimed that each planet had its own angel, who pushed it round its orbit. Not exactly my idea of heaven, pushing a planet around its orbit for all of eternity. Aristotelian cosmology said that the spheres were real and made of crystal. When, in the sixteenth century astronomers came to accept that comets were supralunar celestial phenomena, and not as Aristotle had thought sublunar meteorological ones, it effectively killed off Aristotle’s crystalline spheres, as a supralunar comet would crash right through them. If fact, the existence or non-existence of the crystalline spheres was a major cosmological debate in the sixteenth century. By the early seventeenth century almost nobody still believed in them.

An alternative theory that had its origins in the Middle Ages but, which was revived in the sixteenth century was that the heavens were fluid and the planets swam through them like a fish or flew threw them like a bird. This theory, of course, has again a strong element of vitalism. However, with the definitive collapse of the crystalline spheres it became quite popular and was subscribed to be some important and influential thinkers at the end of the sixteenth beginning of the seventeenth centuries, for example Roberto Bellarmino (1542–1621) the most important Jesuit theologian, who had lectured on astronomy at the University of Leuven in his younger days.

Saint_Robert_Bellarmine

Robert Bellarmine artist unknown Source: Wikimedia Commons

It should come as no surprise that the first astronomer to suggest a halfway scientific explanation for the motion of the planets was Johannes Kepler. In fact he devoted quite a lot of space to his theories in his Astronomia nova (1609).

Astronomia_Nova

Astronomia Nova title page Source: Wikimedia Commons

That the periods between the equinoxes and the solstices were of unequal length had been known to astronomers since at least the time of Hipparchus in the second century BCE. This seemed to imply that the speed of either the Sun orbiting the Earth, in a geocentric model, or the Earth orbiting the Sun, in a heliocentric model, varied through out the year. Kepler calculated a table for his elliptical, heliocentric model of the distances of the Sun from the Earth and deduced from this that the Earth moved fastest when it was closest to the Sun and slowest when it was furthest away. From this he deduced or rather speculated that the Sun controlled the motion of the Earth and by analogy of all the planets. The thirty-third chapter of Astronomia nova is headed, The power that moves the planets resides in the body of the sun.

His next question is, of course, what is this power and how does it operate? He found his answer in William Gilbert’s (1544–1603) De Magnete, which had been published in 1600.

William_Gilbert_45626i

William Gilbert Source: Wikimedia Commons

Kepler speculated that the Sun was in fact a magnet, as Gilbert had demonstrated the Earth to be, and that it rotated on its axis in the same way that Gilbert believed, falsely, that a freely suspended terrella (a globe shaped magnet) did. Gilbert had used this false belief to explain the Earth’s diurnal rotation.

152606_0

It should be pointed out that Kepler was hypothesising a diurnal rotation for the Sun in 1609 that is a couple of years before Galileo had demonstrated the Sun’s rotation in his dispute over the nature of sunspots with Christoph Scheiner (c. 1574–1650). He then argues that there is power that goes out from the rotating Sun that drives the planets around there orbits. This power diminishes with its distance from the Sun, which explains why the speed of the planetary orbits also diminishes the further the respective planets are from the Sun. In different sections of the Astronomia nova Kepler argues both for and against this power being magnetic in nature. It should also be noted that although Kepler is moving in the right direction with his convoluted and at times opaque ideas on planetary motion there is still an element of vitalism present in his thoughts.

Kepler conceived the relationship between his planetary motive force and distance as a simple inverse ratio but it inspired the idea of an inverse squared force. The French mathematician and astronomer Ismaël Boulliau (1605–1694) was a convinced Keplerian and played a central roll in spreading Kepler’s ideas throughout Europe.

Ismaël_Boulliau

Ismaël Boulliau portrait by Pieter van Schuppen Source: Wikimedia Commons

His most important and influential work was his Astronomia philolaica (1645). In this work Boulliau hypothesised by analogy to Kepler’s own law on the propagation of light that if a force existed going out from the Sun driving the planets then it would decrease in inverse squared ratio and not a simple one as hypothesised by Kepler. Interestingly Boulliau himself did not believe that such a motive force for the planet existed.

default

Another mathematician and astronomer, who looked for a scientific explanation of planetary motion was the Italian, Giovanni Alfonso Borelli (1608–1697) a student of Benedetto Castelli (1578–1643) and thus a second-generation student of Galileo.

Giovanni_Alfonso_Borelli

Giovanni Alfonso Borelli Source: Wikimedia Commons

Borelli developed a force-based theory of planetary motion in his Theoricae Mediceorum Planatarum ex Causius Physicis Deductae (Theory [of the motion] of the Medicean planets [i.e. moons of Jupiter] deduced from physical causes) published in 1666. He hypothesised three forces that acted on a planet. Firstly a natural attraction of the planet towards the sun, secondly a force emanating from the rotating Sun that swept the planet sideway and kept it in its orbit and thirdly the same force emanating from the sun pushed the planet outwards balancing the inwards attraction.

The ideas of both Kepler and Borelli laid the foundations for a celestial mechanics that would eventually in the work of Isaac Newton, who knew of both theories, produced a purely force-based mathematical explanation of planetary motion.

 

 

 

 

 

2 Comments

Filed under History of Astronomy, History of Mathematics, History of Physics, History of science, Mediaeval Science