the middle ages and modern science
TRANSCRIPT
ESSAY REVI EW
The middle ages and modern science
James Hannam: God’s Philosophers: How the medieval worldlaid the foundations of modern science. London: Icon Books,2009, xi+435 pp, £17.99 HB
Edward Grant
Published online: 7 September 2010
� Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2010
To the overwhelming majority of its readers, the title of James Hannam’s book will
appear to be a contradiction in terms. Whatever their educational backgrounds, most
people would have been exposed to such negative descriptions of the Middle Ages
that they will very likely regard the terms, or expressions, ‘‘medieval world’’ and
‘‘foundations of modern science’’ as either lacking any possible historical
connection, or will assume they are the butt of a literary joke. But James Hannam
rightly rejects this grossly distorted interpretation of the Middle Ages and declares
(p. 5) that ‘‘recent research has shown that the Middle Ages was a period of
enormous advances in science, technology and culture.’’ Although one has to
qualify what ‘‘advances in science’’ signifies, there can be no doubt that ‘‘enormous
advances’’ were made in technology. As Hannam explains, some of the advances
between AD500 and 1500 involved the further development of inventions that
originated in the Far East (the compass, paper, printing, stirrups, and gunpowder)
and many that were unique to medieval Western Europe (spectacles, the mechanical
clock, the windmill, the blast furnace, and others).
God’s Philosophers is very well written and a delight to read. The book contains
twenty-one chapters and a conclusion. The first twelve chapters are devoted to the
Middle Ages; the last nine chapters consider the Renaissance and Reformation, with
Galileo as the major subject of the final three chapters (19–21). In a brief, but
important, conclusion, titled ‘‘A Scientific Revolution?’’, Hannam explains that four
cornerstones (p. 338) laid the foundations of modern science: institutional,
technological, metaphysical, and theoretical. He presents numerous illustrations
for each of these categories and argues persuasively that the Middle Ages laid the
foundations for early modern science, a view I have held for some years.
E. Grant (&)
Department of History and Philosophy of Science, Goodbody Hall, Indiana University,
1011 E. Third Street, Bloomington, IN 47405-7005, USA
e-mail: [email protected]
123
Metascience (2011) 20:185–190
DOI 10.1007/s11016-010-9438-8
Hannam includes a number of very useful aids to the reader. In addition to the
usual end notes and index, he also includes a brief section titled ‘‘Suggestions for
Further Reading’’ (343–345); a very helpful ‘‘Timeline’’ (345–347); an alphabetical
‘‘List of Key Characters’’ (349–358), which identifies most of the figures mentioned
in the volume and supplies their birth and death dates, as well as very brief bits of
information about each of them; and a lengthy ‘‘Bibliography of Works Cited’’
(395–420).
But for what class of readers has Hannam written his book? He indicates the
category of readers who were foremost in his mind when, in his ‘‘Suggestions for
Further Reading,’’ he declares (p. 343): ‘‘the books recommended in this section are
intended as possible next steps for non-academic readers wishing to explore some of
the issues raised in this book.’’ He again emphasizes the non-academic reader when
he cites David C. Lindberg’s, The Beginnings of Western Science (second edition;
University of Chicago Press, 2007). Although Hannam regards Lindberg’s book as
‘‘an excellent introduction covering both ancient and medieval natural philosophy’’,
he adds: ‘‘unfortunately, it is very obviously a textbook for university students and
as a result rather dry.’’ But is there a class of possible non-academic readers who
would be interested in medieval natural philosophy? Does ‘‘non-academic’’ reader
mean a person who has not attended a college or university, but who might
nevertheless have an interest in medieval natural philosophy? Are there such
people?
Whether or not such a group of potential readers exists, Hannam has written his
book to appeal to their imagined interests. He enriches his narrative by deliberately
expanding the range of themes and topics to embrace descriptions of everyday life,
as well as biographical information about numerous figures relevant to science,
natural philosophy, and technology. In chapter 10 (‘‘The Clockmaker: Richard of
Wallingford’’), we find a vivid example of Hannam’s unusual approach. Although
the chapter describes the invention and use of mechanical clocks—and especially
about the clock Richard of Wallingford built—there is much else besides clocks.
Indeed, there is much more about Wallingford’s life than about his clock. Moreover,
in a section titled ‘‘Oxford University and the Foundation of Cambridge’’
(153–156), we learn (p. 154) that at medieval universities, ‘‘Drunkenness, violence
and prostitution were facts of life, with the students acting as both the victims and
the instigators.’’ With this as background, we are informed that, in 1209, troubles
occurred in Oxford as a result of the murder of a young woman, which led to riots
and lynchings. Teaching ceased at Oxford University for five years, during which
time some Oxford masters and students migrated to Cambridge and established
Cambridge University. In Chapter 15 (‘‘The Polymaths of the Sixteenth Century’’),
Hannam devotes a section to ‘‘Cardan’s Family Problems’’ (pp. 243–246) where he
relates the problems Jerome Cardan (or Girolamo Cardano) had with his two sons,
Aldo, who ‘‘was a thief and a violent ruffian,’’ and Giovanni, who was executed for
murdering his wife. In most chapters, Hannam provides analogous information on
numerous themes and individuals. These unusual descriptions of various aspects of
contemporary life in virtually every chapter make Hannam’s account extremely
interesting and engaging.
186 Metascience (2011) 20:185–190
123
In dealing with the history of science itself, Hannam ranges over major topics, in
mathematics, astronomy, physics, medicine, and the occult sciences of alchemy and
astrology. In his chapter on medicine, Hannam declares (p. 264) that, with the
exception of small pox vaccinations, ‘‘the history of medicine until the mid-
nineteenth century… is a history of failure.’’ In the chapter on medieval medicine,
Hannam, in his usual, fascinating manner, sets up his discussion by suggesting to the
reader (pp. 109–110):
Place yourself in Paris in 1300. The narrow streets are full of students,
craftsmen and beggars. Occasionally, moving through the throng, you might
catch sight of a priest or one of the brightly attired administrators attached to
the royal court. You hardly care because you are sick. You have had a
headache that has grown steadily worse. It keeps you awake all night and now
your vision is becoming blurred. What to do?
Hannam identifies three options for this sick individual (p. 110): ‘‘the church, the
local healer, or a qualified doctor.’’ He then describes how each might treat their
potential patient.
Other chapters also include interesting accounts of relevant scientific activity. In
Chapter 11 (‘‘The Merton Calculators’’), Hannam discusses Bradwardine’s ‘‘law of
motion’’; descriptions of falling bodies in a vacuum; how a weighted body would be
affected if it were dropped through a hole drilled in the earth; and, finally, the mean
speed theorem, as expounded by William Heytesbury (ca. 1313–1373). In Chapter
12 (‘‘The Apogee of Medieval Science’’), Hannam adds more about the mean speed
theorem (as presented by Nicole Oresme) and also describes medieval discussions
of the earth’s possible axial rotation (by John Buridan and Nicole Oresme) and
Albert of Saxony’s description of the trajectory of a cannon ball. Hannam presents
Buridan’s reason for rejecting the earth’s axial rotation (p. 186), but omits to explain
that Buridan did not believe in the earth’s absolute immobility. He argued that the
earth moves with small rectilinear movements as its center of gravity constantly
changes and seeks to coincide with the geometric center of the universe (Grant
2007: 199–200).
Although this engaging book is more likely to be widely read by a much broader
audience than would be usual for a more scholarly, more narrowly based book, there
are difficulties with some of the claims made, as well as with what the author
included and omitted. A major difficulty appears in the chapter I have just
described. The final section of this chapter (‘‘The Apogee of Medieval Science’’) is
titled: ‘‘The Decline of Medieval Science’’ (194–195). Here, Hannam inquires why
the advanced ideas and concepts developed in medieval science by the likes of John
Buridan and Nicole Oresme were not further advanced by their successors. His
answer is the Black Death, ‘‘the deadly incursion that stopped all of Europe in its
tracks…’’ (p. 195). By the time the scholars of Europe recovered, ‘‘they would
discard almost the entire legacy of medieval philosophy,’’ which included natural
philosophy. This is an untenable position. It ignores the Protestant Reformation and
the influx of new Greek scientific texts previously unknown in the medieval West.
But above all, it overlooks the fact that more universities were founded in Western
Europe between 1350 and 1500—approximately 47—than between 1200 and
Metascience (2011) 20:185–190 187
123
1349—approximately 30 (de Ridder-Symoens 1992: 62–65). This could not have
happened if the plague had had the impact proclaimed by Hannam.
The title of Chapter 6—‘‘How Pagan Science was Christianised’’—is unfortunate
because it conveys a very misleading sense of the historical relationship between
science—that is, natural philosophy—and medieval Christianity. There is no doubt
that natural philosophy was used to interpret theology—often playing a role as
‘‘handmaiden to theology’’—but theology had only a minor influence on natural
philosophy. Hannam cites Albert the Great (Albertus Magnus) and Thomas Aquinas
as playing the most fundamental roles in this Christianization process. But pagan
science was never ‘‘Christianised,’’ and certainly not by Albert and Thomas. At the
very beginning of his commentary on Aristotle’s Physics—a commentary that his
Dominican brothers had requested—Albert informs his fellow Dominicans that if he
had any opinion of his own, ‘‘this would be proffered by us (God willing) in
theological works rather than in those on physics.’’ In effect, Albert says that he will
not intrude theology into a work on natural philosophy. In a similar vein, Thomas
Aquinas replied to questions by a Dominican colleague with the remark that ‘‘I
don’t see what one’s interpretation of the text of Aristotle has to do with the
teaching of the faith.’’ Vernon Bourke, a scholar of Thomas’s thought, was
convinced that Aquinas did not feel he was ‘‘required to make Aristotle speak like a
Christian’’ and that Thomas undoubtedly ‘‘thought that a scholarly commentary on
Aristotle was a job by itself, not to be confused with apologetics or theology.’’1
Indeed, medieval Christianity’s monumental contribution to the development of
science and natural philosophy was to accept them as independent disciplines to be
studied for their own sakes and for the advancement of knowledge. Natural
philosophy was never Christianized, but it is no exaggeration to say that theology
was ‘‘Aristotelianised.’’ Theologians routinely used natural philosophy and logic to
respond to innumerable theological problems. By doing so, they converted theology
into an analytic discipline. Many theological treatises differed little from treatises on
natural philosophy.
In his interesting chapter on ‘‘The Secret Arts of Alchemy and Astrology’’
(Chapter 8, 121–134), Hannam describes what was involved in astrology and the
Church’s attitude toward it. But he ignores the opponents of astrology, of whom the
greatest was Nicole Oresme (ca. 1320–1382). This is unfortunate because had he
included Oresme’s hostile attitude toward astrology, he might have been led to
Oresme’s greatest argument against it, namely that the celestial motions are probably
incommensurable and therefore astrological predictions are based on inaccurate and
imprecise information. Oresme demonstrates this by powerful probability argu-
ments. Had Hannam pursued this theme, he would not have identified Jerome Cardan
as the one who first developed and used probability arguments.
In his Treatise on the Commensurability or Incommensurability of the CelestialMotions, Oresme denounces astrological predictions. He declares:
it would be very repugnant that men should come to know about future events
beforehand. It seems arrogant of them to believe that they can acquire a
1 The quotations from Albert and Thomas are taken from Grant (2007: 252–253).
188 Metascience (2011) 20:185–190
123
foreknowledge of future contingents, only some of which are subject to
celestial powers.
It seems better, therefore, to assume the incommensurability of the celestial
motions, since these difficulties do not follow from that [supposition]. Indeed,
incommensurability is shown in yet another way, for as demonstrated
elsewhere, when any two unknown magnitudes have been designated, it is
more probable that they are incommensurable than commensurable, just as it
is more probable that any unknown [number] proposed from a multitude of
numbers would be non-perfect rather than perfect. Consequently, with regard
to any two motions whose ratio is unknown to us, it is more probable that that
ratio is irrational than rational—provided that no other consideration
intervenes that was not taken into account in what has already been discussed.2
Indeed, not only did Oresme arrive at probability theory some two centuries before
Cardan, but the latter, in his Opus novum de proportionibus (New Work on Ratios)includes six propositions that were very likely derived from Oresme’s Treatise onthe Commensurability or Incommensurability of the Celestial Motions. The six
propositions (propositions 47–52 of 233 in Cardano’s treatise) were devoted ‘‘to
mobiles moving on circles, especially emphasizing their times and places of
conjunction.’’3 It should be emphasized that Oresme’s achievements in probability
theory are, to this day, virtually unrecognized, whereas Cardan’s name will
frequently turn up. But there can be no doubt about Oresme’s great contribution.
Although Hannam may have been unaware of this important aspect of Oresme’s
significant contributions, he does include Oresme’s achievements in establishing the
mean speed theorem and his important discussions of the earth’s possible axial
rotation.
Although natural philosophy lies at the heart of what we would call ‘‘medieval
science,’’ Hannam says little about the nature of natural philosophy in the Middle
Ages (there is no index entry for ‘‘natural philosophy’’). He preferred to emphasize
the seven liberal arts.
The objective Hannam set for himself is expressed in his book’s subtitle: ‘‘How
the Medieval World Laid the Foundations of Modern Science.’’ Did he achieve his
goal? I am convinced that he did. In the Conclusion, which is titled ‘‘A Scientific
Revolution?’’, Hannam, as mentioned earlier, identifies four cornerstones that
together served to lay the foundations of modern science, namely, institutional,
technological, metaphysical, and theoretical. The medieval university was the
fundamental institutional entity. Under technology, Hannam mentions spectacles,
magnetism, and the mechanical clock and observes that other technological
advances increased agricultural productivity and raised living standards. By
2 See Nicole Oresme and the Kinematics of Circular Motion: Tractatus de commensurabilitate velincommensurabilitate motuum celi, edited with an Introduction, English Translation, and Commentary by
Edward Grant (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1971), 321. The words ‘‘for as demonstrated
elsewhere’’ refer to Oresme’s On Ratios of Ratios (Tractatus de proportionibus proportionum), Chapter
Three, Proposition X in Nicole Oresme, De proportionibus proportionum and Ad pauca respicientes,edited with Introductions, English Translations, and Critical Notes by Edward Grant (Madison: The
University of Wisconsin Press, 1966), 247–255.3 See Nicole Oresme ‘‘De proportionibus proportionum’’, 142–143.
Metascience (2011) 20:185–190 189
123
‘‘metaphysics,’’ Hannam seems to mean natural philosophy, although why he calls it
metaphysics is puzzling. Hannam rightly emphasizes that medieval natural
philosophers sought to understand the natural workings of nature because the latter
was God’s creation. He is right, but he should have gone further and emphasized
that, within a university intellectual atmosphere, medieval natural philosophers
developed a spirit of inquiry based on reason that led them to ‘‘probe and poke
around,’’ often by pursuing counterfactual questions. It is this ‘‘probing and poking
around’’ that led to many of the theories mentioned in Hannam’s fourth, and final,
cornerstone, which were, as he says (p. 341), ‘‘derived from the way they combined
mathematics with natural philosophy.’’ Hannam shows that Galileo appears to have
made some of his great scientific contributions from ideas he derived directly or
indirectly from medieval sources. But I would argue that even if Galileo and other
seventeenth century natural philosophers were ignorant of all important medieval
scientific ideas, they were undoubtedly influenced by medieval natural philosophy,
even if unaware of it. Why? Because, although medieval natural philosophy was
wholly transformed in the early modern period, seventeenth century scholars, such
as Galileo, Kepler, and many others, were the beneficiaries of the medieval
scholastic ‘‘spirit of free inquiry, the emphasis on reason, the variety of approaches
to nature, and the core of problems to be studied.’’ (Grant 1996: 202) These vital
characteristics were developed in the medieval universities, where for some four
centuries—1200–1600—natural philosophy was the major subject of study. Without
the highly developed natural philosophy of the medieval universities, with the
characteristic features I have described, the great scientific achievements of the
seventeenth century—or the Scientific Revolution, as it is usually called—could not
have occurred. In sum, I wholly agree with Hannam’s assessment of medieval
scholastic contributions to the scientific achievements of the early modern world.
Despite my few disagreements, Hannam has written a splendid book and fully
supported his claim that the Middle Ages laid the foundations of modern science.
He has admirably met another of his goals, namely that of acquainting a large non-
academic audience about the way science and various aspects of natural philosophy
functioned in medieval society and laid the foundation for modern science. Readers
will also learn much about medicine, magic, alchemy, astrology, and especially
technology. And they will learn about these important matters in the history of
science against the broad background of the life and times of medieval and early
modern societies. Although it was intended for a non-academic audience, this book
would prove quite useful as a text in a university course in the history of science.
References
de Ridder-Symoens, H. 1992. A history of the University in Europe, Vol. 1: Universities in the middleages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Grant, Edward. 1996. The foundations of modern science in the middle ages: Their religious, institutional,and intellectual contexts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Grant, Edward. 2007. A history of natural philosophy: From the ancient world to the nineteenth century.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
190 Metascience (2011) 20:185–190
123