Category Archives: History of science

Christmas Trilogy 2015 Part 1: The famous witty Mrs Barton

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Younger readers might be excused if they thought that the IT Girl phenomenon, as illustrated by the likes of Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, was a product of the computer social media age but those of us who are somewhat more mature can remember such as Jacqueline Lee “Jackie” Kennedy Onassis (née Bouvier) and Bianca Jagger (born Bianca Pérez-Mora Macias), who were IT Girls of their respective generations. In fact I assume there have been IT Girls as long as there has been human society. That is young attractive women, who became famous or even infamous purely on the strength of their appearances and social behaviour.

In the Augustan age of London at the beginning of the eighteenth century one such IT Girl was Catherine Barton who’s beauty was celebrated at the Kit-Kat Club, drinking den of the Whig Party grandees, in the following verse[1]:

At Barton’s feet the God of Love

His Arrows and his Quiver lays,

Forgets he has a Throne above,

And with this lovely Creature stays.

Not Venus’ Beauties are more bright,

But each appear so like the other,

That Cupid has mistook the Right,

And takes the Nymph to be his Mother.

Apparently the only image of the young Catherine Barton Source: Wikimedia Commons

Apparently the only image of the young Catherine Barton
Source: Wikimedia Commons

Now those not already in the know are probably wondering why I’m wittering on about an eighteenth-century It Girl instead of the history of science, especially in the first part of my traditional Christmas Trilogy, which is normally dedicated to Isaac Newton who was born 25 December 1642 (os). The answer is very simple, because the charming Catherine Barton was Newton’s niece, the daughter of his half sister Hannah Baton née Smith, and his housekeeper for part of the thirty years that he lived in London.

It is not know for certain when Newton brought his niece, who was born in 1679, from her native Lincolnshire to look after his house in London but not before 1696 when he first moved there himself and probably not later than 1700, however she stayed with her uncle until she married John Conduitt in 1717.

As well as being the toast of London’s high society Catherine Barton played an important part in Newton’s London life. For example she was closely acquainted with the satirist Jonathan Swift and it was through his friendship with Barton that the Tory Swift approached the Whig Newton in 1713 to try to persuade him to relinquish the Mastership of the Mint, an important political sinecure that the Tories wished to bestow on one of their own, in exchange for a state pension of £2,000 per annum, a very large sum of money. An offer than Newton simply refused remaining Master of the Mint until his death.

Catherine’s fame or maybe notoriety extended beyond London to the continent. Rémond de Monmort, a member of the French Regency Council, who met her in 1716 whilst visiting Newton later wrote of her, “I have retained the most magnificent idea in the world of her wit and her beauty”. More famously Voltaire wrote of her:

I thought in my youth that Newton made his fortune by his merit. I supposed that the Court and the city of London named him Master of the Mint by acclamation. No such thing. Isaac Newton had a very charming niece, Madame Conduitt, who made a conquest of the minister Halifax. Fluxions and gravitation would have been of no use without a pretty niece.

Voltaire was wrong. It was indeed Charles Montagu, Lord Halifax, who appointed Newton initially to the Wardenship of the Mint in 1696, the two had been friends when Montagu was a student at Cambridge in the 1680s, but this was before Newton had brought Catherine to London so Montagu could not have known her then. However Voltaire’s quip was almost certainly based on knowledge of a real scandal involving Lord Halifax and Catherine Barton.

Charles Montagu, 1st Earl of Halifax by Sir Godfrey Kneller (NPG) Source: Wikimedia Commons

Charles Montagu, 1st Earl of Halifax by Sir Godfrey Kneller (NPG)
Source: Wikimedia Commons

Halifax had become acquainted with Catherine by 1703 at the latest when he engraved a toasting glass at the Kit-Kat Club with her name and composed the following verse to her:

Stampt with her reigning Charms, this Standard Glass

Shall current through the Realms of Bacchus pass;

Full fraught with beauty shall new Flames impart,

And mint her shining Image on the Heart.

 

Montagu may have been a successful politician and a great economics expert but he was no poet. Toasting a beauty at the Kit-Kat Club does not constitute a scandal but Halifax’s will, originally drafted in 1706, did. In a codicil he bequeathed Catherine £3,000 and all his jewels, “as a small Token of the great Love and Affection I have long had for her”. Faced with this anything but small token, and there was worse to come, Newton’s nineteenth-century biographers were left snapping for air in their attempts to find a not scandalous explanation for this act. Later in the year he even purchased a £200 per annum annuity for her. Was she his lover, his mistress? This explanation seems to offer itself. In 1710 Mrs Mary de la Rivière Manly a Tory satirist published a satire on the Whig’s, which featured a mistress called Bartica for the Halifax figure.

As I said above, the situation got worse in 1713 when Halifax revoked the first codicil and drew up a new one bequeathing £5,000 to Mrs Barton with the grant during her life of the rangership and lodge of Bushey Park and all its furnishings, to enable her to maintain the house and garden, the manor of Apscourt in Surrey. “These Gifts and Legacies, I leave to her as a Token of the sincere Love, Affection, and Esteem I have long had for her Person, and as a small Recompence for the Pleasure and Happiness I have had in her Conversation”.

Flamsteed, always eager to to get in a jibe against Newton, writing to Abraham Sharp on hearing of the bequest after Halifax’s death said sarcastically that it was given to Mrs Barton “for her excellent conversation”. In his desperate attempt to avoid the obvious implications for the morality of the Newton household, Augustus De Morgan, in his Newton biography, constructed a secrete marriage between Catherine and Halifax to explain the level of the bequest, which now, including the worth of the house, stood at about £25,000, a very large sum indeed. However when Catherine married John Conduitt, a retired soldier, following a whirlwind romance in 1717, she gave her status as spinster and not widow. Newton appeared to have no problems with the bequest, ever a shrewd businessman rather than a moralist, as he assisted Catherine with negotiations with Halifax’s heirs to settle the bequest.

Catherine is also one of two sources for the infamous apple story, the other being William Stukeley, Newton’s personal physician in his later life. Her version of the story appears in her husbands never finished or published memoir of Newton’s life and more importantly, it was she who told the story to Voltaire, who published it and thus started the legend.

Newton spent his last days living with the Conduitts and it fell to Catherine’s husband John to divide up the spoils amongst the various half brothers and sisters and their offspring. These eager to screw as much as possible out of Uncle Isaac’s estate forced Conduitt to sell off Newton’s extensive library of almost 2,000 volumes and wanted him to also sell off Newton’s papers convinced that anything connected with the great man would fetch a good price. Conduitt persuaded them to let the papers be sorted and evaluated for publication and in the end only Newton’s Chronology, an original draft of Principia and his Observations upon the Prophecies were printed and published the rest of his papers becoming the property of Catherine and her husband. After their deaths the papers passed to their daughter Catherine, who married the Hon. John Wallop, Viscount Lymington. Their son became the second Earl of Portsmouth and thus Newton’s papers were passed down through the years by the Portsmouth family who eventually disposed of them in the 1930s, but what became of them then is another story.

Female beauty and glamour are not things that one would normally think of if somebody mentions the name of Isaac Newton, but through the famous witty Mrs Barton these things did indeed play a role in Newton’s later life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] This and all other quotes, as indeed the meat of the story, are all taken from Richard Westfall’s excellent Newton biography Never at Rest

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Filed under History of science, Newton, Uncategorized

The greatest villain in the history of science?

In the popular version of the so-called astronomical revolution Andreas Osiander, who was born on the 19th December 1496 or 1498, is very often presented as the greatest villain in the history of science because he dared to suggest in the ad lectorum (to the reader) that he added to the front of Copernicus’ De revolutionibus that one could regard the heliocentric hypothesis as a mere mathematical model and not necessarily a true representation of the cosmos. Is the judgement of history just and who was Andreas Osiander anyway?

Andreas Osiander portrait by Georg Pencz Source: Wikimedia Commons

Andreas Osiander portrait by Georg Pencz
Source: Wikimedia Commons

Andreas Osiander was born in Gunzenhausen, a small town to the south of Nürnberg, the son of Endres Osannder a smith and Anna Herzog. His father was also a local councillor, who later became mayor. He entered the University of Ingolstadt in 1515 where he, amongst other things, studied Hebrew under Johannes Reuchlin one of the greatest humanist scholars in Germany at that time, the great uncle from Philipp Melanchthon and the leading Hebrew scholar of the age. In 1520 Osiander was ordained a priest and called to Nürnberg to teach Hebrew at the Augustinian Cloister. This had been a major centre for reformatory debate for a number of years and it is here that Osiander became a religious reformer. In 1522 he was appointed preacher at the Saint Lorenz church in Nürnberg and became the leading voice for religious reform in the city. In 1525 Nürnberg, a city-state, became the first state to officially adopt the Lutheran Protestant religion, and Osiander became a highly influential and powerful figure. He was largely responsible for converting Albrecht of Prussia to Protestantism and also had a major influence on Thomas Cranmer, later Archbishop of Canterbury and author of the Common Book of Prayer. A trivial pursuits fact is that Cranmer married one of Osiander’s nieces.

Osiander’s first links with the printer/publisher Johannes Petreius was as the author of polemical religious tracts, which Petreius published. How he became an editor for Petreius is not know. It is also not known when and where Osiander developed his interest in and knowledge of the mathematical sciences. What is certain is that it was Osiander who, after Petreius had discovered Cardano’s books at the book fair in Frankfurt, who wrote to the Italian mathematician/physician/philosopher on Petreius’ behalf offering to publish his books in Germany; an offer that Cardano was more than willing to accept. Osiander then became the editor of those books of Cardano’s that Petreius published over the years; a service for which Cardano thanks him very warmly in the preface to one of his books, praising him highly for his abilities as an editor.

When Rheticus published his account of Copernicus’ heliocentric astronomy in his Narratio Prima, in the form of an open letter addressed to Johannes Schöner, another of Petreius’ editors, it was Osiander who wrote to Rheticus on behalf of the publishing house showing great interest in the cyclical astrological theory of history outlined by Rheticus in his little book.

After Rheticus had brought the manuscript of De revolutionibus to Nürnberg, Philipp Melanchthon pressured him to take up the professorship for mathematics in Leipzig and Osiander took over the task of seeing the text through the press. It is here that Osiander added the ad lectorum to the finished book, which has, over the centuries, pulled down so much odium on his head. Is this harsh judgement of his actions justified or have we, as I believe, been blaming the wrong man for the last four and a half centuries.

In the early days of printing there was no such thing as authors rights. The rights to a book lay with the printer/publisher, who was also the first port of call should the authorities decide that a book or pamphlet was seditious, blasphemous or in any other way unacceptable. And please remember our concepts of freedom of speech simply did not exist in sixteenth-century Europe. The ad lectorum was added to De revolutionibus certainly with Petreius’ knowledge and almost certainly at his instigation. This is confirmed by his reaction as Copernicus’ friend Bishop Tiedemann Giese complained to the city council of Nürnberg about the inclusion of the ad lectorum in his dead friend’s magnum opus. Consulted by the council on the subject Petreius basically flew off the handle and told them to get stuffed, it was his book and he’d put what the hell he liked in it.

Osiander continued to edit the books of Cardano for Petreius but in 1548 the city of Nürnberg accepted the Augsburg Interim an edict issued by Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, who had just won a decisive victory against the Protestant forces, forcing the Protestant states within the Empire to revert to Catholicism. In a moonlight flit Osiander fled the city of Nürnberg and made his way north to Königsberg, where Albrecht appointed him professor of theology at the newly established university. This caused much bad blood, as Osiander was not a qualified theologian. In this position Osiander became embroiled in a major theological dispute with the supporters of Melanchthon in Wittenberg over the doctrine of justification. This dispute is known in German church history as the Osiander Dispute and led to a schism between the two parties, with Osiander basically forming his own branch of Protestantism.

Osiander died in 1552 a controversial figure both in the history of religion and the history of science. However as I have sketched above I think his bad reputation in the history of science is not really justified and the real villain of the piece, if there is one, is Johannes Petreius. I say if there is one, because many historians are of the opinion that the ad lectorum saved the De revolutionibus from being condemned straight away, when it was published, and allowed the heliocentric hypothesis it contained to spread relatively unhindered and become established.

 

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

Mensis or menstruation?

I recently stumbled upon this rather charming rant by Anglo-Danish comedian, writer, broadcaster and feminist Sandi Toksvig.

Women's Calendar

 

Now I’m a very big fan of Ms Toksvig and was very sad when she retired as presenter of BBC Radio 4’s excellent News Quiz, so I don’t want to give the impression that I’m trying to put her down, but if she had know a little bit more about the early history of the calendar then she might not have jumped to the conclusion that this supposed bone calendar must have been made by a woman.

Before I start to explain why Ms Toksvig might be mistaken in her assumption that this purported primitive calendar came from the hands of a woman I would like to waste a few words on all such artefacts. There are a number of bone and stone objects of great antiquity bearing some number of scratches, incisions, notches, indentations or other forms of apparent marking and someone almost always comes along and declares them to be purposely created mathematical artefacts with one or other function. I must say that being highly sceptical by nature I treat all such claims with more than a modicum of wariness. Even assuming that the markings were made by a human hand might they not have been made in an idle moment by a Neolithic teenager trying out his newly acquired flint knife or in the case of our incised bone by an early musician making himself scraper to accompany the evening camp fire sing-a-long? What I’m am saying is that there are often multiple possible explanations for the existence of such marked artefacts and regarding them as signs of some sort of mathematical activity is only one of those possibilities.

However, back to Ms Toksvig and her revelation. She is of course assuming that the twenty-eight incisions are the result of a women counting off the days between her periods, the menstrual cycle being roughly twenty-eight days for most women. Now if Ms Toksvig had taken her thoughts a little further she might have realised that the word menstruation derives from the Latin word for month, which is mensis: a month being originally a lunar month which, depending on how you measure it, has approximately twenty-eight days. In fact much human thought has been expended over the centuries over the fact that a lunar month and the menstrual circle have the same length.

What we have here with this incised bone could well be not a menstrual record, as Ms Toksvig seems to assume, but a mensis record or part of a lunar calendar. This supposition is lent credence by the fact that, with the very notable exception of the ancient Egyptian calendar, all early cultures and civilisations had lunar and not solar calendars including the ancient Romans before Gaius Julius Caesar borrowed the Egyptian solar calendar, the forerunner of our own Gregorian one.

Assuming that the archaeologist or anthropologist who decided that said bone was a primitive calendar was right and it is not the idle whittling of some bored stone-age teenager, we of course still have no idea whether it was the work of a man or a woman.

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Filed under History of Astronomy, History of science, Myths of Science

Hans Holbein and the Nürnberg–Ingolstadt–Vienna Renaissance mathematical nexus.

There is a strong tendency, particularly in the popular history of science, to write about or present scientists as individuals. This leads to a serious distortion of the way that science develops and in particular propagates the lone genius myth. In reality science has always been a collective endeavour with its practitioners interacting in many different ways and on many different levels. In the Renaissance, when travelling from one end of Europe to the other would take weeks and letters often even longer, one might be excused for thinking that such cooperation was very low level but in fact the opposite was the truth, with scholars in the mathematical sciences exchanging information and ideas throughout Europe. A particularly strong mathematical nexus existed in the Southern German speaking area between the cities of Nürnberg, Ingolstadt and Vienna in the century between 1450 and 1550. Interestingly two of the paintings of the Northern Renaissance artist Hans Holbein the Younger open a door into this nexus.

Holbein (c. 1497–1543) was born in Augsburg the son of the painter and draughtsman Hans Holbein the Elder. As a young artist he lived and worked for a time in Basel where he became acquainted with Erasmus and worked for the printer publisher Johann Froben amongst others. Between 1526 and 1528 he spent some time in England in the household of Thomas More and it is here that he painted the second portrait I shall be discussing. The next four years find him living in Basel again before he returned to England in 1532 where he became associated with the court of Henry VIII, More having fallen out of favour. It was at the court that he painted, what is probably his most well know portrait, The Ambassadors in 1533.

Hans Holbein The Ambassadors Source: Wikimedia Commons

Hans Holbein The Ambassadors
Source: Wikimedia Commons

The painting shows two courtiers, usually identified as the French Ambassador Jean de Dinteville and Georges de Selve, Bishop of Lavaur standing on either side of a set of shelves laden with various books and instruments. There is much discussion was to what the instruments are supposed to represent but it is certain that, whatever else they stand for, they represent the quadrivium, arithmetic, geometry music and astronomy, the four mathematical sciences taught at European medieval universities. There are two globes, on the lower shelf a terrestrial and on the upper a celestial one. The celestial globe has been positively identified, as a Schöner globe and the terrestrial globe also displays characteristics of Schöner’s handwork.

Terrestrial Globe The Ambassadors Source Wikimedia Commons

Terrestrial Globe The Ambassadors
Source Wikimedia Commons

Celestial Globe The Ambassadors Source Wikimedia Commons

Celestial Globe The Ambassadors
Source Wikimedia Commons

Johannes Schöner (1477–1547) was professor for mathematics at the Egidienöberschule in Nürnberg, the addressee of Rheticus’ Narratio Prima, the founder of the tradition of printed globe pairs, an editor of mathematical texts for publication (especially for Johannes Petreius the sixteenth centuries most important scientific publisher) and one of the most influential astrologers in Europe. Schöner is a central and highly influential figure in Renaissance mathematics.

On the left hand side of the lower shelf is a copy of Peter Apian’s Ein newe und wolgegründete underweisung aller Kauffmanns Rechnung in dreyen Büchern, mit schönen Regeln und fragstücken begriffen (published in Ingolstadt in 1527) held open by a ruler. This is a popular book of commercial arithmetic, written in German, typical of the period. Peter Apian (1495–1552) professor of mathematics at the University of Ingolstadt, cartographer, printer-publisher and astronomer was a third generation representative of the so-called Second Viennese School of Mathematics. A pupil of Georg Tannstetter (1482–1535) a graduate of the University of Ingolstadt who had followed his teachers Johannes Stabius and Andreas Stiborious to teach at Conrad Celtis’ Collegium poetarum et mathematicorum, of which more later. Together Apian and Tannstetter produced the first printed edition of the Optic of Witelo, one of the most important medieval optic texts, which was printed by Petreius in Nürnberg in 1535. The Tannstetter/Apian/Petreius Witelo was one of the books that Rheticus took with him as a present for Copernicus when he visited him in 1539. Already, a brief description of the activities of Schöner and Apian is beginning to illustrate the connection between our three cities.

Apian's Arithmetic Book The Ambassadors Source: Wikimedia Commons

Apian’s Arithmetic Book The Ambassadors
Source: Wikimedia Commons

When Sebastian Münster (1488–1552), the cosmographer, sent out a circular requesting the cartographers of Germany to supply him with data and maps for his Cosmographia, he specifically addressed both Schöner and Apian by name as the leading cartographers of the age. Münster’s Cosmographia, which became the biggest selling book of the sixteenth century, was first published by Heinrich Petri in Basel in 1544. Münster was Petri’s stepfather and Petri was the cousin of Johannes Petreius, who learnt his trade as printer publisher in Heinrich’s printing shop in Basel. The Petri publishing house was also part of a consortium with Johann Amerbach and Johann Froben who had employed Hans Holbein in his time in Basel. Wheels within wheels.

The, mostly astronomical, instruments on the upper shelf are almost certainly the property of the German mathematician Nicolaus Kratzer (1487–1550), who is the subject of the second Holbein portrait who will be looking at.

Nicolas Kratzer by Hans Holbein Source: Wikimedia Commona

Nicolas Kratzer by Hans Holbein
Source: Wikimedia Commona

Born in Munich and educated at the universities of Cologne and Wittenberg Kratzer, originally came to England, like Holbein, to become part of the Thomas More household, where he was employed as a tutor for More’s children. Also like Holbein, Kratzer moved over to Henry VIII’s court as court horologist or clock maker, although the clocks he was responsible for making were more probably sundials than mechanical ones. During his time as a courtier Kratzer also lectured at Oxford and is said to have erected a monumental stone sundial in the grounds of Corpus Christi College. One polyhedral sundial attributed to Kratzer is in the Oxford Museum for the History of Science.

Polyhedral Sundial attributed to Nicolas Kratzer Source: MHS Oxford

Polyhedral Sundial attributed to Nicolas Kratzer
Source: MHS Oxford

In 1520 Kratzer travelled to Antwerp to visit Erasmus and here he met up with Nürnberg’s most famous painter Albrecht Dürer, who regular readers of this blog will know was also the author of a book on mathematics. Dürer’s book contains the first printed instructions, in German, on how to design, construct and install sundials, so the two men will have had a common topic of interest to liven there conversations. Kratzer witnessed Dürer, who was in Antwerp to negotiate with the German Emperor, painting Erasmus’ portrait and Dürer is said to have also drawn a portrait of Kratzer that is now missing. After Kratzer returned to England and Dürer to Nürnberg the two of them exchanged, at least once, letters and it is Kratzer’s letter that reveals some new connections in out nexus.

Albrecht Dürer selfportrait Source: Wikimedia Commons

Albrecht Dürer selfportrait
Source: Wikimedia Commons

In his letter, from 1524, Kratzer makes inquires about Willibald Pirckheimer and also asks if Dürer knows what has happened to the mathematical papers of Johannes Werner and Johannes Stabius who had both died two years earlier.

Willibald Pirckheimer (1470–1530) a close friend and patron of Dürer’s was a rich merchant, a politician, a soldier and a humanist scholar. In the last capacity he was the hub of a group of largely mathematical humanist scholars now known as the Pirckheimer circle. Although not a mathematician himself Pirckheimer was a fervent supporter of the mathematical sciences and produced a Latin translation from the Greek of Ptolemaeus’ Geōgraphikḕ or Geographia, Pirckheimer’s translation provided the basis for Sebastian Münster’s edition, which was regarded as the definitive text in the sixteenth century. Stabius and Werner were both prominent members of the Pirckheimer circle.

Willibald Pirckheimer by Albrecht Dürer Source: Wikimedia Commons

Willibald Pirckheimer by Albrecht Dürer
Source: Wikimedia Commons

The two Johanneses, Stabius (1450–1522) and Werner (1468–1522), had become friends at the University of Ingolstadt where the both studied mathematics. Ingolstadt was the first German university to have a dedicated chair for mathematics. Werner returned to his hometown of Nürnberg where he became a priest but the Austrian Stabius remained in Ingolstadt, where he became professor of mathematics. The two of them continued to correspond and work together and Werner is said to have instigated the highly complex sundial on the wall of the Saint Lorenz Church in Nürnberg, which was designed by Stabius and constructed in 1502.

St Lorenz Church Nürnberg Sundial 1502 Source: Astronomie in Nürnberg

St Lorenz Church Nürnberg Sundial 1502
Source: Astronomie in Nürnberg

It was also Werner who first published Stabius’ heart shaped or cordiform map projection leading to it being labelled the Werner-Stabius Projection. This projection was used for world maps by Peter Apian as well as Oronce Fine, France’s leading mathematicus of the sixteenth century and Gerard Mercator, of whom more, later. The network expands.

Mercator cordiform world map 1538 Source: American Geographical Society Library

Mercator cordiform world map 1538
Source: American Geographical Society Library

In his own right Werner produced a partial Latin translation from the Greek of Ptolemaeus’ Geographia, was the first to write about prosthaphaeresis (a trigonometrical method of simplifying calculation prior to the invention of logarithms), was the first to suggest the lunar distance method of determining longitude and was in all probability Albrecht Dürer’s maths teacher. He also was the subject of an astronomical dispute with Copernicus.

Johannes Werner Source: Wikimedia Commons

Johannes Werner
Source: Wikimedia Commons

Regular readers of this blog will know that Stabius co-operated with Albrecht Dürer on a series of projects, including his famous star maps, which you can read about in an earlier post here.

Johannes Statius Portrait by Albrecht Dürer Source: Wikimedia Commons

Johannes Statius Portrait by Albrecht Dürer
Source: Wikimedia Commons

An important non-Nürnberger member of the Pirckheimer Circle was Conrad Celtis (1459–1508), who is known in Germany as the arch-humanist. Like his friend Pirckheimer, Celtis was not a mathematician but believed in the importance of the mathematical sciences. Although already graduated he spent time in 1489 on the University of Kraków in order to get the education in mathematics and astronomy that he couldn’t get at a German university. Celtis had spent time at the humanist universities of Northern Italy and his mission in life was to demonstrate that Germany was just as civilised and educated as Italy and not a land of barbarians as the Italians claimed. His contributions to the Nuremberg Chronicle can be viewed as part of this demonstration. He believed he could achieve his aim by writing a comprehensive history of Germany including, as was common at the time its geography. In 1491/92 he received a teaching post in Ingolstadt, where he seduced the professors of mathematics Johannes Stabius and Andreas Stiborius (1464–1515) into turning their attention from astrology for medicine student, their official assignment, to mathematical cartography in order to help him with his historical geography.

Conrad Celtis Source: Wikimedia Commons

Conrad Celtis
Source: Wikimedia Commons

Unable to achieve his ends in Ingolstadt Celtis decamped to Vienna, taking Stabius and Stiborius with him, to found his Collegium poetarum et mathematicorum as mentioned above and with it the so-called Second Viennese School of Mathematics; the first had been Peuerbach and Regiomontanus in the middle of the fifteenth century. Regiomontanus spent the last five years of his life living in Nürnberg, where he set up the world’s first scientific publishing house. Stiborius’ pupil Georg Tannstetter proved to be a gifted teacher and Peter Apian was by no means his only famous pupil.

The influence of the Nürnberg–Ingolstadt–Vienna mathematicians reached far beyond their own relatively small Southern German corridor. As already stated Münster in Basel stood in contact with both Apian and Schöner and Stabius’ cordiform projection found favour with cartographers throughout Northern Europe. Both Apian and Schöner exercised a major influence on Gemma Frisius in Louvain and through him on his pupils Gerard Mercator and John Dee. As outlined in my blog post on Frisius, he took over editing the second and all subsequent editions of Apian’s Cosmographia, one of the most important textbooks for all things astronomical, cartographical and to do with surveying in the sixteenth century. Frisius also learnt his globe making, a skill he passed on to Mercator, through the works of Schöner. Dee and Mercator also had connections to Pedro Nunes (1502–1578) the most important mathematicus on the Iberian peninsular. Frisius had several other important pupils who spread the skills in cosmography, and globe and instrument making that he had acquired from Apian and Schöner all over Europe.

Famously Rheticus came to Nürnberg to study astrology at the feet of Johannes Schöner, who maintained close contacts to Philipp Melanchthon Rheticus patron. Schöner was the first professor of mathematics at a school designed by Melanchthon. Melanchthon had learnt his mathematics and astrology at the University of Tübingen from Johannes Stöffler (1452–1531) another mathematical graduate from Ingolstadt.

Kupferstich aus der Werkstatt Theodor de Brys, erschienen 1598 im 2. Bd. der Bibliotheca chalcographica Source: Wikimedia Commons

Kupferstich aus der Werkstatt Theodor de Brys, erschienen 1598 im 2. Bd. der Bibliotheca chalcographica
Source: Wikimedia Commons

Another of Stöffler’s pupils was Sebastian Münster. During his time in Nürnberg Rheticus became acquainted with the other Nürnberger mathematicians and above all with the printer-publisher Johannes Petreius and it was famously Rheticus who brought the manuscript of Copernicus’ De revolutionibus to Nürnberg for Petreius to publish. Rheticus says that he first learnt of Copernicus’s existence during his travels on his sabbatical and historians think that it was probably in Nürnberg that he acquired this knowledge. One of the few pieces of astronomical writing from Copernicus that we have is the so-called Letter to Werner. In this manuscript Copernicus criticises Werner’s theory of trepidation. Trepidation was a mistaken belief based on faulty data that the rate of the precession of the equinoxes is not constant but varies with time. Because of this highly technical dispute amongst astronomers Copernicus would have been known in Nürnberg and thus the assumption that Rheticus first heard of him there. Interestingly Copernicus includes observations of Mercury made by Bernhard Walther (1430–1504), Regiomontanus partner, in Nürnberg; falsely attributing some of them to Schöner, so a connection between Copernicus and Nürnberg seems to have existed.

In this brief outline we have covered a lot of ground but I hope I have made clear just how interconnected the mathematical practitioners of Germany and indeed Europe were in the second half of the fifteenth century and the first half of the sixteenth. Science is very much a collective endeavour and historians of science should not just concentrate on individuals but look at the networks within which those individual operate bringing to light the influences and exchanges that take place within those networks.

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Filed under History of Astrology, History of Astronomy, History of Cartography, History of Mathematics, History of Navigation, History of science, Renaissance Science

The Renaissance Mathematicus “Live & Uming”

Those of you with nothing better to do can listen to a podcast of the Renaissance Mathematicus (that’s me folks!) searching for words, desperately trying to remember names, uming & ahing, thinking on his feet (I was actually sitting down the whole time) and generally stumbling his way through an eighty minute spontaneous, unrehearsed, live interview with Scott Gosnell of Bottle Rocket Science on such scintillated topics, as why the Pope got his knickers in a twist over Galileo or that notorious seventeenth century religious fanatic Isaac Newton. In fact the same boring load of old codswallop that you can read at you leisure here on this blog. As I say if you have nothing more exciting to do, such as watching paint dry or listening to the grass grow, then go listen.

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The Phlogiston Theory – Wonderfully wrong but fantastically fruitful

There is a type of supporter of gnu atheism and/or scientism who takes a very black and white attitude to the definition of science and also to the history of science. For these people, and there are surprisingly many of them, theories are either right, and thus scientific, and help the progress of science or wrong, and thus not scientific, and hinder that progress. Of course from the point of view of the historian this attitude or stand point is one than can only be regarded with incredulity, as our gnu atheist proponent of scientism dismisses geocentrism, the phlogiston theory and Lamarckism as false and thus to be dumped in the trash can of history whilst acclaiming Copernicus, Lavoisier and Darwin as gods of science who led as out the valley of ignorance into the sunshine of rational thought.

I have addressed this situation before on more than one occasion but as a historian of science I think that it’s a lesson that needs to be repeated at regular intervals. Because it is the American Chemical Society’s “National Chemistry Week 2015” I shall be re-examining the Phlogiston Theory whose creator Georg Ernst Stahl was born on 22 October 1659 in Ansbach, which is in Middle Franconia just down the road from where I live.

Stahl had a fairly conventional career, studying medicine at Jena University from 1679 to 1684. 1687 he became court physician to the Duke of Sachen-Weimar and in 1694 he was appointed professor of medicine at the newly founded University of Halle, where he remained until 1715 when he became personal physician to Friedrich Wilhelm I, King of Prussia. Stahl like most chemists in the Early Modern Period was a professional physician, chemistry only existing within the academic context as a sub-discipline of medicine.

To understand the phlogiston theory we need to go back and take a brief look at the development of the theory of matter since the ancient Greeks. Empedocles introduced the famous four-element theory, Earth, Water, Air and Fire, in the fifth century BCE and this remained the basic theory in Europe until the Early Modern Period. In the ninth century CE Abu Mūsā Jābir ibn Hayyān added Sulphur and Mercury to the four-elements as principles, rather than substances, to explain the characteristics of the seven metals. In the sixteenth century CE, Paracelsus took over al- Jābir’s Sulphur and Mercury adding Salt as his tria prima to explain the characteristics of all matter. In the seventeenth century, when Paracelsus’ influence was at its height, many alchemists/chemists adopted a five-element theory – Earth, Water, Sulphur, Mercury and Salt – dropping air and fire. Robert Boyle, in his The Sceptical Chymist (1661), threw out both the Greek four-element theory and Paracelsus’ tria prima, groping towards a more modern concept of element. We now arrive at the origins of the phlogiston theory.

The German Johann Joachim Becher (1635–1682), a physician and alchemist, was a big fan of Boyle and his theories and even travelled to London to learn at the feet of the master. Like Boyle he rejected both the Greek four-element theory and Paracelsus’ tria prima, in his Physica Subterranea (1667) replacing them with a two-element theory Earth and Water with Air present just as a mixing agent for the two. However he basically reintroduced Paracelsus’ tria prima in the form of three different types of Earth.

  • terra fluida or mercurial Earth giving material the characteristics, fluidity, fineness, fugacity, metallic appearance
  • terra pinguis or fatty Earth giving material the characteristics oily, sulphurous and flammable
  • terra lapidea glassy Earth, giving material the characteristic fusibility

Stahl took up Becher’s scheme of elements concentrating on his terra pinguis, making it his central substance and renaming it phlogiston. In his theory all substances, which are flammable contain phlogiston, which is given up when they burn, the combustion ceasing when the phlogiston is exhausted. The classic demonstration of this was the combustion of mercury, which turns to ash, in Stahl’s terminology (mercuric oxide in ours). If this ash is reheated with charcoal the phlogiston is restored (according to Stahl) and with it the mercury. (In our view the charcoal removes the oxygen restoring the mercury). In a complex series of experiment Stahl turned sulphuric acid into sulphur and back again, explaining the changes once again through the removal and return of phlogiston. Through extension Stahl, an excellent experimental chemist, was able to explain, what we now know as the redox reactions and the acid-base reactions, with his phlogiston theory based on experiment and empirical observation. Stahl’s phlogiston theory was thus the first empirically based ‘scientific’ explanation of a large part of the foundations of chemistry. It is a classic example of what Thomas Kuhn called a paradigm and Imre Lakatos a scientific research programme.

Viewed with hindsight the phlogiston theory is gloriously, wonderfully and absolutely wrong in all of its aspects thus leading to the scorn with which it is viewed by our gnu atheist proponent of scientism, however they are wrong to do so. I prefer Lakatos’ scientific research programme to Kuhn’s paradigm exactly because it describes the success of the phlogiston theory much better. For Lakatos it’s irrelevant whether a theory is right or wrong, what matters are its heuristics. A scientific research programme that produces new facts and phenomena that fit within the descriptive scope of the programme has a positive heuristic. One that produces new facts and phenomena that don’t fit has a negative heuristic. Scientific research programmes have both positive and negative heuristics simultaneously throughout their existences, so long as the positive heuristic outweighs the negative one the programme continues to be accepted. This was exactly the case with the phlogiston theory.

Most European eighteenth-century chemist accepted and worked within the framework of the phlogiston theory and produced a great deal of new important chemical knowledge. Most notable in this sense are the, mostly British, so-called pneumatic chemists. Working within the phlogiston theory Joseph Black (1728–1799), professor for medicine in Edinburgh, isolated and identified carbon dioxide whilst his doctoral student Daniel Rutherford (1749–1819) isolated and identified nitrogen. The Swede Carl Wilhelm Scheele (1742–1786) produced, identified and studied oxygen for which he doesn’t get the credit because although he was first, he delayed in publishing his results and was beaten to the punch by Joseph Priestley (1733–1804), who had independently also discovered oxygen labelling it erroneously dephlogisticated air. Priestley by far and away the greatest of the pneumatic chemists isolated and identified at least eight other gases as well as laying the foundations for the discovery of photosynthesis, perhaps his greatest achievement.

Henry Cavendish (1731–1810) isolated and identified hydrogen, which he thought for a time might actually be phlogiston, before going on to make the most important discovery within the framework of the phlogiston theory, the structure of water. By a series of careful experiments Cavendish was able to demonstrate that water was not an element but a compound consisting of two measures of phlogiston (hydrogen) with one of dephlogisticated air (oxygen). With the same level of precision he also demonstrated that normal air consists of four parts of nitrogen to one of oxygen or better said not quite. He constantly found something he couldn’t identify present in one one-hundredth and twentieth of the volume of nitrogen. In the nineteenth century this would finally be identified as the gas argon.

All of these discoveries are to be counted to the positive heuristic of the phlogiston theory. What weighed heavily on the negative side is the fact that as the accuracy of measurement increased in the eighteenth century it was discovered that the ashes, of mercury for example, left behind on burning were heavier than the original substance being burnt. This was troubling as combustion was supposed to be the release of phlogiston. Some supporters of the theory even suggested negative phlogiston to explain this anomaly. This suggestion, which never caught on, gets particularly mocked today, something I find somewhat strange in an age that has had to accept anti-matter and is now being asked to accept dark matter and dark energy to explain known anomalies in current theories.

Ironically it was the discoveries of oxygen and the composition of water that gave Lavoisier the necessary building blocks to dismantle the phlogiston theory and build his own competing theory, which would in the end prove successful and commit the phlogiston theory to the scrap heap of the history of chemistry. However one should never forget that it was exactly this theory that delivered him the tools he needed to do so. As I wrote in my sub-title even a theory that is wonderfully wrong can be fantastically fruitful and should be treated with respect when viewed with hindsight.

 

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A bewitching lady astronomer

Today in a day for celebrating the role that women have played and continue to play in the sciences, technology, engineering and mathematics. In the past on similar occasions I have blogged about female astronomers and I have decided today to write a short post about Aglaonice, who is possibly the oldest known lady astronomer.

Aglaonice

Aglaonice

Aglaonice is a semi-legendary, semi-mythical figure about whom our information is all second hand. She is associated with the witches from Thessaly, who claimed to be able to draw down the moon from its course in the heavens after depriving it of its illumination. The earliest mention of this feat in in Aristophanes The Clouds, first produced in 432 BCE.

Plutarch writing at the end of the first century CE tells us that Aglaonice knew about lunar eclipses and when they occurred. He writes, “ Always at the time of an eclipse of the Moon she pretended to bewitch it and draw it down.” In another passage he writes, “Aglaonice the daughter of Hegetor being thoroughly conversant with the periods of the Full Moon when it is subject to eclipse, and knowing beforehand when the Moon was due to be overtaken by the Earth’s shadow, imposed upon audiences of women and made them all believe that she drew down the Moon”. In late antiquity the poet Apollonius of Rhodes informs his readers that she lost a close relative after one of her performances as a punishment imposed by an outraged Moon goddess.

What is interesting in these accounts is that the moon is usually still visible during a lunar eclipse, only very occasionally does it disappear completely, so if we are to give any credence to these accounts Aglaonice must have carried out her charade during one such eclipse.

Total Lunar Eclipse 27 September 2015 Source: Wikimedia Commons

Total Lunar Eclipse
27 September 2015
Source: Wikimedia Commons

We have no idea when she is supposed to have lived but she obviously predates Plutarch writing about 100 CE and cannot be earlier than about the middle of the third century BCE, which is when the Babylonians first perfected the art of predicting lunar eclipses.

Whatever the case maybe, if Aglaonice existed at all, she must have been a truly bewitching lady astronomer.

 

 

 

 

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