Was the Society of Jesus the main obstacle for the acceptance of the new physics in modern Europe? Was their educational system, all over Europe, completely under the strict control of regulations imposed by the Jesuit hierarchy in Rome? How did the various Jesuit colleges confront, reject, or absorb the crucial novelties of the mathematical and experimental method? Marcus Hellyer addresses such crucial questions in this book.

In this research, we present the most important characteristics of the so called and so much explored Jesuit Edition of Newton’s Philosophi? Naturalis Principia Mathematica edited by Thomas Le Seur and Fran?ois Jacquier in the 1739-1742. The edition, densely annotated by the commentators (the notes and the comments are longer than Newton’s text itself) is a very treasure concerning Newton’s ideas and his heritage, e.g., Newton’s geometry and mathematical physics. Conspicuous pieces of information as to history of (...) class='Hi'>physics, history of mathematics and epistemology can be drawn from it. This paper opens a series of study concerning Jesuit Edition, whose final scope is to put in evidence all the conceptual aspects of such edition and its role inside the spread of scientific ideas and inside the complex relation science, popularization & society. (shrink)

This paper has the aim to provide a general view of the so called Jesuit Edition (hereafter JE) of Newton’s Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica (1739–1742). This edition was conceived to explain all Newton’s methods through an apparatus of notes and commentaries. Every Newton’s proposition is annotated. Because of this, the text – in four volumes – is one of the most important documents to understand Newton’s way of reasoning. This edition is well known, but systematic works on it are (...) still missing. We are going to fill this gap by means of a project exposed in the final remarks of this paper. In this paper we will: A) expound the way in which the notes and the additions to the JE were conceived by the commentators; B) provide some pieces of information about the commentators; C) summarize the most important of their notes; D) examine closely their notes as to a particularly important question: the so called "inverse problem of the central forces". (shrink)

Upon the restoration of the Society of Jesus in Portugal in 1858, the Jesuits founded two important colleges that made significant efforts in the promotion of hands-on experimental teaching of the natural sciences. At the Colégio de Campolide and the Colégio de São Fiel the Jesuits created modern chemistry and physics laboratories, organized significant botanical, zoological and geological collections, promoted scientific expeditions with their students to observe eclipses and to collect novel species of animals and plants, and engaged in (...) original research work in physics, botany, and zoology. The successful implementation of modern scientific practices gained these colleges public recognition as the most prominent secondary institutions in nineteenth-century Portugal, and this made a major contribution to countering the widespread and commonly accepted anti-Jesuit accusations of obscurantism and scientific backwardness. (shrink)

In this book Philip Clayton defends the rationality of religious explanations by exploring the parallels between explanatory effects in the sciences and the explanations offered by religious believers, students of religion, and theologians. Clayton begins by surveying the types of religious explanation, offering a synopsis of the most significant competing positions. He then critically examines recent important developments in the philosophy of science regarding the nature of scientific explanations—including the work of Popper, Hempel, Kuhn, and Lakatos in the natural sciences (...) and Habermas, Weber, and Schütz in the social sciences. Clayton outlines the process of rational evaluation in these disciplines, defining the explanatory quest as the attempt to make sense of or bring coherence into subjective and intersubjective worlds. He briefly discusses explanations in philosophy and then turns to the explanatory role of individual religious experience, drawing on a coherence theory of meaning and on the conclusions from his discussion of science. Based on his defense of the doubting or “secular” believer, he concludes by advocating a model of theology in which questions about the truth of a religious tradition are intrinsic to its theology. “A valuable exposition of the thesis that the explanatory work of theology possesses formal similarities with that of the physical sciences, the social sciences, and philosophy. Clayton exhibits an impressive command of a broad area of scholarship, and his reflections are balanced and carefully argued.” –Michael J. Buckley, S.J., professor of religion at the Jesuit Theological Seminary and author of _At the Origins of Modern Atheism_ “I know of no philosopher writing today who has dealt in as informed and thoughtful a way with the broad subject of this book. Clayton guides the reader through important discussions with ease, illuminating the path all along the way.” –Josiah B. Gould, professor of philosophy at the State University of New York, Albany. (shrink)

During the second half of the 16th century, some members of the Society of Jesus began to develop different interpretations around the doctrine of causality within the history of Aristotelian commentaries. Since Aristotle had not proposed an unambiguous definition of cause, the debate grew between the interpreters of his Physics and Metaphysics. Therefore, before Suarez systematized the theories in his Metaphysical Disputations, the professors of the Colleges of Arts and Jesuit Universities discussed the definition of cause (ratio formalis (...) causae). In this essay, I intend to reconstruct the history of causality debate before 1597 when Suarez published his successful metaphysical work and went to Coimbra as a professor of theology. The aim of this essay is to analyse some of the most influential Portuguese professors from Evora and Coimbra and their commentaries on the Aristotle’s works including those proposed by Ignatio de Tolosa (1564), Pedro da Fonseca (1589) and Manuel de Gois (1592). In this way, knowledge of the different views within the Society of Jesus will allow a better understanding of the developments made by Suarez to define causality as principle in the new metaphysical (theological and trinitarian) perspective towards Modernity. (shrink)

Benet Perera was not the first Jesuit to comment Aristotle’s De Anima. In Portugal there was already the tradition of doing it, and the so-called Coimbra Course may be seen as the culmination of such a tradition. Moreover, its approach to philosophy is also different from Perera’s. This paper first of all focuses on the place of scientia de anima, the importance physics has in such a science, and the division of metaphysics or its unity. Secondly, it is (...) stated that if Perera could have taken sides with a theological anthropology, Góis took a different approach. Lastly, when discussing the immortality of the soul Perera and Álvares differ over the weight of human capacities in duly evidencing immortality. (shrink)

The problem of the intensification and remission of qualities was a crux for philosophical, theological, and scientific thought in the Middle Ages. It was raised in Antiquity with this remark of Aristotle: some qualities, as accidental beings, admit the more and the less. Admitting more and less is not a trivial property, since it belongs neither to every category of being, nor to every quality. Rather it applies only to states and dispositions such as virtue, to affections of bodies such (...) as heat and sweetness, and to affections of soul such as anger. However, the property of admitting more and less was a matter of importance for the qualitative physics that had reigned up to about the time of Descartes, a physics which was concerned with concepts such as heat, coldness, lightness, heaviness, and so on. (shrink)

The ArgumentThe argument developed herein, a countertheme to the Merton thesis, is that the ideal of science pursued by Galileo and his contemporaries in Italy would be unaffected by their Catholic faith if it could achieve apodictic proof in the subject of its investigations, in which case it would attain truth – the very goal sought by that faith. Unfortunately such proof was hard to come by in early seventeenth-century mechanics. A case study is proposed to show Galileo's difficulty demonstrating (...) the tensile strength of columns in mathematical physics on the basis of improper suppositions, contrasting these with the suppositions of a contemporary, Giovanni de Guevara. The case study casts new light on the subject of Galileo's atomism and its relation to the Eucharist, refuting Redondi's claim that this was the real motive behind Galileo's trial in 1633. A further lesson relating to the Merton thesis can also be drawn, namely, that while challenges to science from religious orthodoxy may appear as temporary obstacles, in the long run they are an aid to science in its efforts to bring mankind closer to the truth. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The De Auxiliis Controversy, Molinism, and Physical Premotion:The Christological Implications*Pachomius Walker O.P.From 1582 until 1607, the de Auxiliis controversy consumed much of the attention of Dominicans, Jesuits, and the Papacy.1 The controversy began in 1582 at Salamanca when a Scholastic debate entertained the question of [End Page 607] how Christ's sacrifice was both free and meritorious.2 The Jesuit, Prudencio de Montemayor, claimed that if Christ had been commanded (...) to lay down his life and be crucified, then his action was not free and, therefore, not meritorious.3 The Dominicans, on the other hand, resolved the question of Christ's merit and freedom using what would later come to be known as physical premotion.4 In a word, the de Auxiliis controversy has Christological roots. Even though the controversy quickly engaged other, related questions, a successful adjudication of these conflicting positions must have reference to the Christological truths implicated in the controversy.5 [End Page 608] The goal of this present study, therefore, is to exposit the Christological implications of the de Auxiliis controversy in an effort to reexamine the conflicting proposals about grace.Historically, in order to resolve the confusion about the God-man, the partisans of the debate needed to clarify their differing principles regarding God and man generally. As was soon apparent, however, the parties of the debate had contradictory understandings of basic philosophical principles.6 The participants in the controversy engaged other topics such as man's freedom, God's foreknowledge of future contingents, and predestination.7 It is understandable, therefore, that when Domingo Báñez († 1604), one of Montemayor's principal interlocutors, submitted his list of theses that summarized Montemayor's position, many of them dealt with questions other than those of Christ's merit.8Eventually, the controversy centered upon Luis de Molina's Concordia after its publication in 1588.9 The Concordia became the focus and [End Page 609] touch-point for the debate, since various parties aligned themselves based on their support for or condemnation of the work. The papal Congregation de Auxiliis (1594–1607), initially convoked by Pope Clement VIII, analyzed Molina's work and the positions contained therein. This, again, helped specify the debate. To keep the relevant parties focused and to make clear the lineaments of the controversy, it was helpful to have a standard text to which all parties had reference. Questions about God's grace and man's freedom were concretized through specific questions about Molina's approach to grace, God's knowledge, and predestination and whether his positions agreed with Thomas, Augustine, the Fathers of the Church, and Church councils. Hence, the Controversy de Auxiliis, which began by dealing with questions of Christology, resulted in a debate about the Molinist position as described in the Concordia.The subsequent years of the controversy have retained much of the same breadth: grace, freedom, God's foreknowledge, and predestination.10 The original impetus for the debate—Christology—can many times be overlooked or seen as a historical curiosity11 On one level, passing over the [End Page 610] Christological issues is reasonable: Molina's Concordia was first published after the lines of the debate had already been formed, and thus it is not a work of Christology. In fact, it was only in response to certain objections from Francisco Zumel that Molina included a more explicit treatment of Christ in his second edition.12 While those involved in the debate understood the details of Christ's merit to be a related and important issue, Molina's theological position was no longer seen primarily in terms of Christology.13 Even so, since the action of God in the human soul is nowhere clearer and nowhere more powerful than in the soul of Christ, any attempt to resolve these questions must take the original arena of Christology into account.14 [End Page 611]What follows is an attempt to reexamine the two proposals on grace—that of Molina and that of the Thomists on physical premotion—in Christological terms.15 The main Christological tenets at play are: (1) the fact that the hypostatic union is not of persons, but in the person; (2) that Christ... (shrink)

It has been stated, „history is the master of life ". Is this a statement reserved exclusively for historians or is it applicable to those with quantitative interests in the fields of mathematics, physics, astronomy, and philosophy and for matters of purpose, for all humanity? The latter have certainly learned much from their ancestors in their respective fields of concentrated research and study. Knowledge and discovery in the present has been predicated upon what has been inherited and handed down (...) by our generation ancestors who were experts in their respective fields of knowledge. The question is presented, „Can anything be learned and discovered today from our educated colleagues who lived during the period covered between the 16th and 19th centuries?" For whatever purpose this text may be used, the response by the reader would emphatically be one in the affirmative, yes. (shrink)

It has been stated, „history is the master of life ". Is this a statement reserved exclusively for historians or is it applicable to those with quantitative interests in the fields of mathematics, physics, astronomy, and philosophy and for matters of purpose, for all humanity? The latter have certainly learned much from their ancestors in their respective fields of concentrated research and study. Knowledge and discovery in the present has been predicated upon what has been inherited and handed down (...) by our generation ancestors who were experts in their respective fields of knowledge. The question is presented, „Can anything be learned and discovered today from our educated colleagues who lived during the period covered between the 16th and 19th centuries?" For whatever purpose this text may be used, the response by the reader would emphatically be one in the affirmative, yes. (shrink)

During the seventeenth century there were different ways of opposing the new mechanical philosophy and the old Aristotelian philosophy. Remarkably enough, one of this way succeeded in becoming stable beyond the moment of its formulation, one according to which Descartes would be the benchmark by which the works of other natural philosophers of the seventeenth century fall either on the side of the old or the new. I consequently examine the French debate where this representation emerges, a debate that took (...) place along with the development of a Cartesian propaganda in the 1660s and the ensuing official condemnations of the philosophy of Descartes, which was said to constitute a danger for the mystery of Eucharist. But these condemnations pronounced in the name of theology, as numerous and radical as they were, were not considered to be sufficient. They were assisted by numerous polemical works, the audience of which were learned companies of courteous honnêtes gens, and the object of which was to defend a certain way of proceeding in natural philosophy. I consequently concentrate on two correlated questions, the question of what kind of ontological entities are necessary for the establishment of a good physics, and the correlated question of what norms should be adopted in natural philosophy. I show quite systematically that the criticisms of Cartesian philosophers by the Oratorian Jean-Baptiste de La Grange, the bishop Pierre-Daniel Huet, and various Jesuits, Ignace Pardies, Antoine Rochon, Louis Le Valois, Gabriel Daniel, René Rapin, and Honoré Fabri respond to the mockeries of Gérauld de Cordemoy, Jacques Rohault, Louis de La Forge, Bernard Lamy, Nicolas Malebranche or Antoine Arnauld concerning the scholastic entities. Not only do I contrast their philosophical arguments concerning ontological entities and the norms to be respected in physics, but also their ways of defining the philosophical enterprise and its public. (shrink)

This article intends to examine the problematic question of the ontological status of “physical premotion,” that is, the divine motion of created free will. This idea was developed by the Dominican Báñez and was strongly criticised by the Jesuit Suárez. Suárez’s description of physical premotion shows that he gradually conditioned the debate in a way which compelled to see the premotion as an entity different from the creator and the free agent. Several texts of Suárez are also reviewed in (...) discussion with a recent study of Matava. Finally, the article concludes that Báñez follows the main lines of the thought of Aristotle and Aquinas; consequently, he does not believe that the divine motion has any other effect in the world than that of the free action of the created agent. (shrink)

According to a grand narrative that long ago ceased to be told, there was a seventeenth century Scientific Revolution, during which a few heroes conquered nature thanks to mathematics. This grand narrative began with the exhibition of quantitative laws that these heroes, Galileo and Newton for example, had disclosed: the law of falling bodies, according to which the speed of a falling body is proportional to the square of the time that has elapsed since the beginning of its fall; the (...) law of gravitation, according to which two bodies are attracted to one another in proportion to the sum of their masses and in inverse proportion to the square of the distance separating them -- according to his own preferences, each narrator added one or two quantitative laws of this kind. The essential feature was not so much the examples that were chosen, but, rather, the more or less explicit theses that accompanied them. First, mathematization would be taken as the criterion for distinguishing between a qualitative Aristotelian philosophy and the new quantitative physics. Secondly, mathematization was founded on the metaphysical conviction that the world was created pondere, numero et mensura, or that the ultimate components of natural things are triangles, circles, and other geometrical objects. This metaphysical conviction had two immediate consequences: that all the phenomena of nature can be in principle submitted to mathematics and that mathematical language is transparent; it is the language of nature itself and has simply to be picked up at the surface of phenomena. Finally, it goes without saying that, from a social point of view, the evolution of the sciences was apprehended through what has been aptly called the "relay runner model," according to which science progresses as a result of individual discoveries. Grand narratives such as this are perhaps simply fictions doomed to ruin as soon as they are clearly expressed. In any case, the very assumption on which this grand narrative relies can be brought into question: even in the canonical domain of mechanics, the relevant epistemological units crucial to understanding the dynamics of the Scientific Revolution are perhaps not a few laws of motion, but a complex set of problems embodied in mundane objects. Moreover, each of the theses just mentioned was actually challenged during the long period of historiographical reappraisal, out of which we have probably not yet stepped. Against the sharp distinction between a qualitative Aristotelian philosophy and the new quantitative physics, numerous studies insist that Rome wasn't built in a day, so to speak. Since Antiquity, there have always been mixed sciences; the emergence of pre-classical mechanics depends on both medieval treatises and the practical challenges met by Renaissance engineers. It is indeed true that, for Aristotle, mathematics merely captures the superficial properties of things, but the Aristotelianisms were many during the Renaissance and the Early Modern period, with some of them being compatible with the introduction of mathematics in natural philosophy. In addition, the gap between the alleged program of mathematizing nature and its effective realization was underlined as most natural phenomena actually escaped mathematization; at best they were enrolled in what Thomas Kuhn began to rehabilitate under the appellation of the "Baconian sciences," i.e., empirical investigations aiming at establishing isolated facts, without relating them to any overarching theory. Hence, mathematization of nature cannot pretend to capture a historical fact: at most, it expresses an indeterminate task for generations to come. On top of these first two considerations, and against the thesis of the neutrality of the mathematical language, it was urged that mathematics is not "only a language" and that, exactly as other symbolic means or cognitive tools, it has its own constraints. For example, it has been thoroughly explained that the Euclidean theory of proportions both guides and frustrates the Galilean analysis of motion; its shortages were particularly clear with respect to the expression of continuity, which is crucial in the case of motion. Consequently, when calculus was invented and applied to the analysis of motion, it was not a transposition that left things as they stood. Even more clearly than in the case of a translation from one natural language to another, the shift from one symbolic language to another entails that certain possibilities are opened while others are closed. The cognitive constraints imposed by established mathematical theories, as seen in the theory of proportions or calculus, were not the only ones to be studied in relation to mathematization. Certain schemes dependent on the grammar of natural languages, e.g., the scheme of contrariety, or certain symbolic means of representation, e.g. geometrical diagrams and numerical tables, were also subject to such scrutiny. Lastly, it was insisted that, even if we concede the existence of scientific geniuses, mathematics is largely produced by intellectual communities and embedded within social practices. More attention was consequently paid to the forms of communication in given mathematical networks, or to the teaching of the discipline in, for example, Jesuit colleges and universities. The set of mathematical practices specific to specialized craftsmen, highly-qualified experts and engineers began to be studied in its own right. All these reflections may have helped us change our perspectives on the question of mathematization. It seems, however, that they were instead set aside, both because of a general distrust towards sweeping narratives that are always subject to the suspicion that they overlook the unyielding complexity of real history, and because of a shift in our interests. The more obscure and idiosyncratic they are, an alchemist, a patron of the sciences or a lunatic collector is nowadays honored in journals of the history of sciences. As for the general issues involved in the question of mathematization, they are rejected as obsolete, or reserved for specialized journals in the history of mathematics. Consequently, before presenting the essays of this fascicle, I would like to say a few words in favor of a renewed study of the forms of mathematization in the history of the early sciences. (shrink)

ArgumentThis paper discusses the theory of motion of the philosopher Honoré Fabri (1608–1688), a senior representative of early modern Jesuit scientists. It argues that the consensus prevailing among historians – according to which Fabri's theory of impetus is diametrically opposed to Galileo's or Descartes' concept of inertia – is false. It shows: that Fabri carefully constructed his concept of impetus in order to easily incorporate the principle of linear conservation of motion (designated here as “limited inertia”), by adopting formal (...) (rather than efficient) causality between impetus and motion and by allowing impetus to act only along straight lines; that he explicitly deemed Aristotle's famous “inertial paradox” not as a paradox at all; and that linear conservation of motion was not limited to “counterfactual” circumstances but played a significant part in his discrete theory of free fall and constituted an integral component of his general physical (and even mathematical) philosophy. However, the paper also shows that Fabri's notion of inertia was restricted to one dimension only, and therefore should indeed be considered “limited.” In his analysis of horizontal projectiles, Fabri explicitly rejected Galileo's important principle of superposition, and thus revealed significant constraints to his “inertial” thinking. (shrink)

The ArgumentThis paper, an attempt at an institutional history of ideas, compares patterns of reproduction of scientific knowledge in Catholic and Protestant educational institutions. Franciscus Eschinardus'Cursus Physico-Mathematicusand Jean-Robert Chouet'sSyntagma Physicumare examined for the strategies which allow for accommodation of new contents and new practices within traditional institutional frameworks. The texts manifest two different styles of inquiry about nature, each adapted to the peculiar constraints implied by its environment. The interpretative drive of Eschinardus and a whole group of “modern astronomers” is (...) here seen as pushing beyond the traditional task of “saving the phenomena,” towards celestial hermeneutics which is thoroughly experimental and mathematical. In spite of the insistence on physical interpretation of celestial phenomena, Eschinardus' astronomical discourse is yet constrained by a complex game of intellectual-political considerations. Commitment to the Thomistic organization of knowledge, which sets a boundary between a science of motion and the “geometry of heavens”, suppresses any impulse to ask about the mechanical causes of celestial appearances. The Copernican cosmology is thus rejected qua an attempt to cross this guarded boundary. Chouet in Geneva, by contrast, frees himself from these constraints on the organization of natural knowledge. By strictly separating philosophy from theology, he can combine physics and astronomy, favor a Copernican cosmology and adopt a Cartesian mechanistic worldview. Moreover, unlike the Jesuit Eschinardus, Chouet seeks toexplainnatural phenomena in terms of causes, rather than justinterpretthem. Yet he does so within a philosophical discourse largely scholastic in nature, which best suits the conservative institutional framework in which he teaches. Whereas the Jesuit Eschinardus employs a new type of discourse without severing his links with the traditional Thomistic worldview, the Calvinist Chouet adopts a new Cartesian worldview and adapts it to a largely traditional type of discourse. (shrink)

Unlike similar works, Xingxue Cushu 性學觕述 by the Italian Jesuit missionary Giulio Aleni sought to deliver the Christian doctrine into China by introducing Western medicine. The conflict between the Christian concept of the soul and the traditional psychic concept in China made the task difficult. Scholasticism rejects the idea that an individual’s soul may be physically divided or localized, whereas the Chinese tradition largely assumes the contrary and regards the heart as the center of one’s psychic powers or vitality. (...) Aleni addressed this conflict by reducing the mind to the function of the brain for sensitive memory. Chinese physicians accepted Aleni’s concept of brain-related memory. However, his claim of an immaterial soul was ignored, and the Western connection between brain and memory was misinterpreted and subjected to Chinese cardiocentrism; thus, the physically centered psychic concept that underlies Chinese philosophy persisted. (shrink)

‘Poor Borelli!’ exclaimed Alexandre Koyre at the end of his wonderful and by now classic study of Borelli's ‘celestial mechanics’. Koyre frankly admitted that Borelli lacked Newton's genius and intellectual audacity. However, in his story Borelli deserved a place between Kepler and Newton for his ‘imperfect but decisive’ unification of terrestrial and celestial physics. This framework finds a powerful justification in Borelli's extensive usage of Keplerian astronomy and in Newton's references to Borelli's work on the Medicean planets, Theoricae mediceorum (...) planetarum , both in his correspondence with Edmond Halley, with regard to a controversy with Robert Hooke, and in Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica . Newton's own copy of Borelli's work with signs of his reading – the famous dog-earings – is preserved in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge. The magnitude of Newton's achievement has haunted Borelli's work ever since Principia mathematica appeared in print. For example, although Christiaan Huygens was sent a copy of Borelli's book by Prince Leopold in 1666, his marginal annotations in his own copy of the book were written after he had read Newton's masterpiece, as if Huygens had felt the need to read the book again after 1687. From then onwards Borelli's work has almost inevitably appeared in a new light that has coloured its subsequent readings.My ambition in this paper is to provide a fresh reading of Borelli's work by reconstructing its circumstances of composition, establishing a comparison with a relevant strictly contemporary source, and attending to the immediate reception of Theoricae. Borelli's work was written with an eye to a composite audience including Roman Jesuits, Sicilian intellectual circles and Leopold de' Medici's correspondents across the Alps, such as the Copernican astronomer Ismael Boulliau in Paris. Borelli was aware that his Sicilian readers were likely to have different concerns from those of Roman Jesuits or the Medici. Thus the task of charting the reception of his work is a formidable one. For a variety of reasons, including availability of sources, limitations of space, taste and competence, my analysis of Borelli's work on the Medicean planets is limited to a few themes and is not only no less partial than Koyre's, but in many respects it relies on it. If readers feel stimulated to re-read Koyre's text, one of the aims of this paper will have been fulfilled. (shrink)

: In this paper I address the vexed question of secondary causation in René Descartes' physics, and examine several influential interpretations, especially the one recently proposed by Dennis Des Chene. I argue that interpreters who regard Cartesian bodies as real secondary causes, on the grounds that the modes of body include real forces, contradict Descartes' account of modes. On the other hand, those who deny that Descartes affirms secondary causation, on the grounds that forces cannot be modes of extension, (...) commit Descartes to the problematic view that the undetermined and immutable will of God is the sole cause of determinate and variable motions. Des Chene's contextualist approach to Descartes' texts leads him to an intermediate position that combines elements of both interpretations. However, in my view, Des Chene's interpretation likewise fails to resolve apparent tensions in Descartes' claims. I thus propose to separate the issue of secondary causation from what Des Chene dubs 'the problem of force'. On the basis of this approach, and a study of Jesuit commentaries familiar to Descartes, I develop a new interpretation which takes seriously Descartes' claim that the laws of nature are the secondary and particular causes of particular motions and changes in motion. (shrink)

The year 2001 marks the thirtieth anniversary of the death of Jan Karol Dorda, a Jesuit who devoted a substantial part of his life in the priesthood to literary work, and scientific, especially philosophical enquiry - alongside his pastoral and administrative duties in the Society of Jesus. Father Dorda held a degree in mathematics and physics, but had a special interest in philosophy. In this paper I shall be concerned with his philosophical opinions, only some of which have (...) been published, while the majority of his unpublished manuscripts are preserved in the archives of the Southern Polish Province of the Society of Jesus in Cracow. The reason why his work has never been published is not because of low quality, but due to the difficult conditions prevalent in the post-war Communist period in Poland, and also because of the cautious attitude adopted by the censors and reviewers to whom Dorda submitted his work for assessment. (shrink)

The year 2001 marks the thirtieth anniversary of the death of Jan Karol Dorda, a Jesuit who devoted a substantial part of his life in the priesthood to literary work, and scientific, especially philosophical enquiry - alongside his pastoral and administrative duties in the Society of Jesus. Father Dorda held a degree in mathematics and physics, but had a special interest in philosophy. In this paper I shall be concerned with his philosophical opinions, only some of which have (...) been published, while the majority of his unpublished manuscripts are preserved in the archives of the Southern Polish Province of the Society of Jesus in Cracow. The reason why his work has never been published is not because of low quality, but due to the difficult conditions prevalent in the post-war Communist period in Poland, and also because of the cautious attitude adopted by the censors and reviewers to whom Dorda submitted his work for assessment. (shrink)

This paper investigates Péter Pázmány’s theory of mixtures from his exegesis of Meteorologica IV, in the context of sixteenth-century scholarship on Aristotle’s Meteorologica. It aims to contribute to a discussion of Anneliese Maier’s thesis concerning the incompatibility between hylomorphism and the theory of elements in the Aristotelian tradition. It presents two problems: the placement of Meteorologica IV in the Jesuit cursus on physics and the conceptualization of putrefaction as a type of substantial mutation. Through an analysis of these (...) issues, it shows how sixteenth-century exegesis imposes the hylomorphic thesis onto the subject matter of meteorology and how the hylomorphic theory of substantial change can be adapted in order to accommodate the theory of elements. The case being made is that Meteorologica is a privileged place where hylomorphism and the theory of elements meet and that the late Aristotelian theory of mixtures sought to accommodate both theories of material substance. (shrink)

Galileo's view of science is indebted to the teaching of the Jesuit professors at the Collegio Romano, but Galileo's concept of mathematical physics also corresponds to that of Giovan Battista Benedetti. Lacking documentary evidence that would connect Benedetti directly with the Jesuits, or the Jesuits with Benedetti, I infer a common source: the Spanish connection, that is, Domingo de Soto. I then give indications that the fourteenth-century work at Oxford and Paris on calculationes was transmitted via Spain and (...) Portugal to Rome and other centers where Jesuits had colleges, and figured in the rise of mathematical physics at the beginning of the seventeenth century. A result of these researches is their vindication of Duhem, as contrasted with Koyré, on the origins of modern mechanics. (shrink)

Beside from the Collegio Romano, the Jesuit Province of Upper Germany with its universities at Dillingen and Ingolstadt was a centre of the intellectual dispute about Perera. Especially his pupil Anton Balduin and the theologian Gregorius de Valencia are central to the controversy. Despite the restraint of the Rector Theodoricus Canisius in the disputations of Balduinus about physics there are theses that show the influence of Balduinus: indeterminate dimensions of prime matter, the question of a maximum and minimum (...) in the natural species, the critics of the aristotelian definition of place, the persistence of forms in elementary mixture. Perera’s history of philosophy in book IV of his De communibus is used several times by Jacobus Pontanus in his discourses at Dillingen university and in his Progymnasmata Latinitatis. (shrink)

Leibniz was interested in China throughout his life, and he admired its culture. Originally, his interests revolved around Chinese characters, but widened when meeting the Jesuit China missionary P. Grimaldi in Rome 1689. From that time on, Leibniz pursued the project of a knowledge exchange between both sides of the world. He was convinced that Europe and China were on the same cultural level, while diverging over advances in distinct fields. In his view, Europe was more advanced in theoretical (...) areas, such as logic, mathematics, geometry, physics, mathematical astronomy, and theory of natural religion, while China was superior in empirical disciplines, such as in observational astronomy, medicine, historiography, and moral philosophy, which he understood as natural (i.e. rational) theology. This project of knowledge exchange presupposed the recognition of Chinese culture. In this sense, Leibniz strongly supported the Jesuit position, according to which the rites of ancestral worship and reverence of Confucius are riti politici rather than literal expressions of religious faith. Leibniz’s main objection to the Pope’s negative assessment of Chinese rites was that one cannot settle the so-called Rites Controversy as long as one fails to interpret adequately Chinese culture and Confucian thought in particular. (shrink)

This dissertation presents a new interpretation of Rene Descartes' views on body/body causation by examining them within their historical context. Although Descartes gives the impression that his views constitute a complete break with those of his predecessors, he draws on both Scholastic Aristotelian concepts of the efficient cause and existing anti-Aristotelian views. ;The combination of Aristotelian and anti-Aristotelian elements in Descartes' theory of causation creates a tension in his claims about the relationship between the first cause, God, and the secondary (...) causes, created things. To make sense of Descartes' position on secondary causation I study the 16th and 17th century debates on secondary causation, God's concurrence, and the action of efficient causes. I examine the Aristotelian commentaries of the Jesuit philosophers Francisco Suarez, Francisco Toledo, Antonio Rubio and the Coimbran Commentators. I also analyze the anti-Aristotelian views on nature and causation found in Sebastian Basson's textbook on natural philosophy. ;The Jesuit philosophers, like Descartes, deny that the extendedness and impenetrability of matter requires the existence of occult forces to penetrate the matter and exercise causality. Rather they argue that causality is exercised by a thing's form and that causal interaction requires only contiguity not penetration. They also downplay the importance of the final cause, making the efficient cause prior in the study of nature. While Descartes rejects their hylomorphism, he agrees with the Jesuits that there are secondary efficient causes which determine God's action, causing a specific kind of effect. However, for Descartes the secondary causes are the laws of nature, not individual substances. ;Descartes' reduction of all natural change to the local motion of material particles is reminiscent of Basson's anti-Aristotelian natural philosophy. Basson reacts against the Jesuit view of secondary causation, arguing that it commits them to attributing cognition to physical causes. His own account of natural causation contains both mechanistic elements, which we find in a more developed form in Descartes' philosophy, and Neoplatonic and Stoic elements which Descartes rejects. (shrink)

It is often thought that Aristotelian hylomorphism was undermined in the early modern era by the external challenges that alternative atomist and corpuscularian matter theories posed. This narrative neglects the fact that hylomorphism was not one homogeneous theory but a fruitful, adaptable framework that enabled scholastic Aristotelianism to continuously transform itself from within and resolve new natural philosophical, metaphysical, and theological problems. I focus on the period of the Counter-Reformation and rise of Protestant scholastic metaphysics. During this time accounting for (...) the individuation of substances within a hylomorphic framework consistent with Aristotle’s texts, the doctrine of the Trinity, and Aristotelian physics became both urgent and more challenging. I show that Protestant scholastics who took up influential late sixteenth-century Jesuit accounts of individuation so altered the hylomorphic framework inherited from medieval philosophers that atomism appeared to at least one author as more consistent with Aristotle’s metaphysical commitments. (shrink)

Theology and the Cartesian Doctrine of Freedom, now for the first time available in English,was Étienne Gilson's doctoral thesis and part of a larger project to show the medieval roots of Descartes at a time when the very existence of medieval philosophy was often ignored. Young Descartes was sent to La Flèche, one of the Jesuits schools that offered a complete philosophical program, and Descartes would have had the same philosophical training as a Jesuit. There is some controversy about (...) the exact dates of Descartes's stay at La Flèche and consequently about his philosophy instructor. By Gilson's calculations François Véron taught Descartes for three years. Véron eventually left the Jesuits to be free to engage in extraordinarily aggressive anti-Calvinist polemics. If anything, Véron's overbearing manner may have contributed to Descartes antipathy toward Scholastic philosophy. (Whatever Descartes's objections to its philosophy curriculum, later in life he recommended la Flèche as the best school in France.) Descartes,s great intellectual mission in life was not his mathematics but his physics, which was understood as a part of philosophy. We see him navigate the shoals of heated theological and religious strife in his attempt to articulate the metaphysical foundations(and in particular a philosophical vision of God) for his physics or theory of nature. As a layman, he always pleaded ignorance in technically theological matters. He presented himself as a loyal Catholic, quite sincerely in the portrait Gilson paints. (shrink)

The notion that there was a profound cultural boundary between Europe (defined as Christian) and Asia (defined as other, including Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism …) was dear to the hearts of the Europeans at least from the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. But it is as much a figment of European creation as the notion of a physical boundary. Of course there were cultural differences of a graduated kind and important political-military ones with the western developments of ships and guns (using (...) the Islamic compass and Chinese gunpowder), but especially with the development of industrial production. Pomerantz has recently argued that western economic supremacy was not in evidence until after that time, a thesis that obviously cuts at the roots of those many writers who claim a cultural advantage in the West going back perhaps to classical times, to Christianity, to the German heritage, or even to the Renaissance and Reformation. Some important changes did occur in the West following developments in the sphere of printing, mainly in the sphere of education and the modes of communication. That earlier levels of cultural attainment were not so very different is clear from the early Jesuit reports of their work in the East. (shrink)

The main purpose of this article is to discuss the views of the Jesuit Stanisław Dunin–Borkowski (1864–1934) about Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity. These days, Dunin–Borkowski is a rather obscure figure despite rising to fame in the interwar period as an outstanding expert in the philosophy of Baruch Spinoza. Thus, the secondary aim of this article is to remind ourselves of this somewhat forgotten scholar. As a researcher, writer, and pedagogue, Dunin–Borkowski was interested in numerous fields of knowledge. Among (...) these were the natural sciences, including physics and the influence that new physical theories had on philosophical thought. This present study therefore fills a gap in the existing research about how Polish philosophers received Einstein’s theories. The example of Dunin–Borkowski also serves as a basis for discussing some of the fundamental problems of neo-scholasticism in receiving new mathematicised scientific theories. (shrink)

The notion that there was a profound cultural boundary between Europe (defined as Christian) and Asia (defined as other, including Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism …) was dear to the hearts of the Europeans at least from the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. But it is as much a figment of European creation as the notion of a physical boundary. Of course there were cultural differences of a graduated kind and important political-military ones with the western developments of ships and guns (using (...) the Islamic compass and Chinese gunpowder), but especially with the development of industrial production. Pomerantz has recently argued that western economic supremacy was not in evidence until after that time, a thesis that obviously cuts at the roots of those many writers who claim a cultural advantage in the West going back perhaps to classical times, to Christianity, to the German heritage, or even to the Renaissance and Reformation. Some important changes did occur in the West following developments in the sphere of printing, mainly in the sphere of education and the modes of communication. That earlier levels of cultural attainment were not so very different is clear from the early Jesuit reports of their work in the East. (shrink)

This paper aims first and foremost to unravel and clarify an interesting 17th century controversy around superposition in projectiles, which allegedly existed between the French Jesuit Honoré Fabri and the Italian physicist and astronomer Giovanni Alfonso Borelli. This conflict – initially described by the English mathematician John Wallis in a letter from 1670 to the secretary of the Royal Society – has been erroneously identified with Fabri's Dialogi physici (1669), a work written in response to Borelli's De vi percussionis (...) (1669). In fact, this “conflict” was nothing but Wallis's account of a contradiction between Borelli's above mentioned work and Fabri's Tractatus physicus de motu locali from 1646, while Fabri's 1669 work expressed views very different from those contained in his Tractatus physicus. I will try here to reconstruct Fabri's change of heart between 1646 and 1669 concerning projectiles and superposition, while tracing the real bone of contention between (the later) Fabri and Borelli – superimposing contrary motions – to its Aristotelian origins. My analysis will lead me to problematize the way modern historians usually interpret the relation between Aristotle's physical thinking and projectile theories of early modern theoreticians (e.g. Nicollò Tartaglia's). (shrink)

During the seventeenth century there were different ways of opposing the new mechanical philosophy and the old Aristotelian philosophy. Remarkably enough, one of this way succeeded in becoming stable beyond the moment of its formulation, one according to which Descartes would be the benchmark by which the works of other natural philosophers of the seventeenth century fall either on the side of the old or the new. I consequently examine the French debate where this representation emerges, a debate that took (...) place along with the development of a Cartesian propaganda in the 1660s and the ensuing official condemnations of the philosophy of Descartes, which was said to constitute a danger for the mystery of Eucharist. But these condemnations pronounced in the name of theology, as numerous and radical as they were, were not considered to be sufficient. They were assisted by numerous polemical works, the audience of which were learned companies of courteous honnêtes gens, and the object of which was to defend a certain way of proceeding in natural philosophy. I consequently concentrate on two correlated questions, the question of what kind of ontological entities are necessary for the establishment of a good physics, and the correlated question of what norms should be adopted in natural philosophy. I show quite systematically that the criticisms of Cartesian philosophers by the Oratorian Jean-Baptiste de La Grange, the bishop Pierre-Daniel Huet, and various Jesuits, Ignace Pardies, Antoine Rochon, Louis Le Valois, Gabriel Daniel, René Rapin, and Honoré Fabri respond to the mockeries of Gérauld de Cordemoy, Jacques Rohault, Louis de La Forge, Bernard Lamy, Nicolas Malebranche or Antoine Arnauld concerning the scholastic entities. Not only do I contrast their philosophical arguments concerning ontological entities and the norms to be respected in physics, but also their ways of defining the philosophical enterprise and its public. (shrink)

This paper proposes new ways of characterizing eighteenth-century French Cartesianism. Besides two widely-accepted elements—the belief in “strict mechanism” and the idea that to demonstrate in physics does not involve mathematics, but reference to mechanical models—I add two more, hitherto neglected, features. First, a strong emphasis on experimentalism, namely the view that experiments are crucial to natural-philosophical practice. Second, an epistemological thesis that I call “conjecturalism,” which consists in doubting that natural philosophy would attain an ultimate truth on the nature (...) of things. To explore these facets of Cartesianism, I focus on the works of the Jesuit Noël Regnault. (shrink)

One of the prominent debates of post-Tridentine scholasticism addressed probability, often expressed by the term “moral” (or adverbially, “morally”), originally motivated by the epistemology of decision-making and the debates on predestination and “middle knowledge”. Puente (or Pedro) Hurtado de Mendoza (1578–1641), an Iberian Jesuit and the author of one of the earliest Jesuit philosophy courses, entered this debate in the early-seventeenth century. This paper presents his 1610s and 1620s analyses of different forms or degrees of evidence, certainty, and (...) necessity or impossibility, addressing the commonly-used trichotomy of the “metaphysical”, “physical”, and “moral”, in which “moral” is the weakest form of a modality, together with the paradigmatic examples and interesting applications of the framework. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Descartes and Augustine by Stephen MennSteven NadlerStephen Menn. Descartes and Augustine. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Pp. xvi + 415. Cloth, $74.95.As most readers of this journal well know, scholars in the history of philosophy can, however roughly, be divided into two distinct (and sometimes antagonistic) camps: those who think that work on the great philosophers of the past should focus almost exclusively on an analysis of (...) their theses and arguments, and those who believe that we cannot truly understand any philosopher’s ideas without serious investigation into the historical, philosophical and even more general intellectual context of their thought. Stephen Menn’s book is a profoundly good example of the latter school.While it is undeniable that Descartes was strongly influenced by his Jesuit education and by his later reading of latter-day scholastics like Suarez, and that he was motivated in part by a desire to move philosophy beyond its sterile and unprogressive Aristotelian paradigm, one of the crucial questions in Cartesian scholarship concerns the extent to which Descartes was himself an Augustinian Platonist. In this long, brilliant, learned, at times tedious but generally fascinating study, Menn argues that in terms of both method and substance, with respect to motivation, discipline and goals, there was no thinker more important for Descartes’s intellectual development and philosophical project than St. Augustine. Taking on the great triumvirate of French Cartesian scholarship—Gilson, Gueroult and Gouhier, all of whom argued that, while it is possible to find Augustinian elements in Descartes’s philosophy, nonetheless his thought is radically anti-Augustinian, sharing neither “the Augustinian spirit nor the Augustinian conception of philosophy itself” (8–10)—Menn insists that Augustinian principles inform and sustain in a very deep way Descartes’s metaphysics and epistemology. Moreover, Descartes’s general philosophical project is fundamentally the same as that of the Bishop of Hippo: to show how true wisdom can be born only from scientia. For Descartes, this means showing how the failure of Aristotelian science should lead not to a suspicion of science in general, nor to limiting oneself to a skeptical prudentialist moralizing (such as that of the Renaissance humanists), but to a true wisdom based on certain knowledge of the world. That knowledge of the world will, of course, be a mechanistic one, but it will be grounded in an Augustinian metaphysics. In the end—and here is where Menn most clearly takes issue with Gilson [End Page 625] and Co.—the project is to reconcile Christianity and philosophical knowing, precisely what Augustine set out to do.Understanding Augustine, Menn claims, requires an understanding of Plotinus and the Platonist tradition. And this, he further insists, demands that we know the essential elements of Plato’s metaphysics itself. Menn’s pursuit of depth and attention to detail can sometimes be wearying—do we really need in a book such as this a discussion of the variations in Plato’s explanation of how sensible particulars relate to intelligibles between the middle and late dialogues?—but in the end most of it pays off. We find out what Augustine found of value in his reading of Plotinus and what he needed to leave behind. Of the greatest importance, especially for someone seeking to move beyond the materialism of the Manicheans, was a conception of the human soul as an incorporeal thing and an understanding of God or nous as an immaterial and transcendent source of being and, through illumination, of knowledge. “[Augustine] went to the Platonists to learn a method for understanding God and the soul, and he accepts a great deal of the doctrine that comes from this way of understanding them, but he knew from the beginning what it was he wanted to understand: it was the God and the human souls described in the Christian scriptures” (166).What Descartes wanted was much the same, although he hoped to put it to further use by returning from the heights of metaphysics to the most general science of the natural world (physics) and the particular, practical sciences (wisdom) that follow from it. If he could successfully ground his physics in proper metaphysical first principles, then his philosophical goals would... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Descartes and Augustine by Stephen MennSteven NadlerStephen Menn. Descartes and Augustine. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Pp. xvi + 415. Cloth, $74.95.As most readers of this journal well know, scholars in the history of philosophy can, however roughly, be divided into two distinct (and sometimes antagonistic) camps: those who think that work on the great philosophers of the past should focus almost exclusively on an analysis of (...) their theses and arguments, and those who believe that we cannot truly understand any philosopher’s ideas without serious investigation into the historical, philosophical and even more general intellectual context of their thought. Stephen Menn’s book is a profoundly good example of the latter school.While it is undeniable that Descartes was strongly influenced by his Jesuit education and by his later reading of latter-day scholastics like Suarez, and that he was motivated in part by a desire to move philosophy beyond its sterile and unprogressive Aristotelian paradigm, one of the crucial questions in Cartesian scholarship concerns the extent to which Descartes was himself an Augustinian Platonist. In this long, brilliant, learned, at times tedious but generally fascinating study, Menn argues that in terms of both method and substance, with respect to motivation, discipline and goals, there was no thinker more important for Descartes’s intellectual development and philosophical project than St. Augustine. Taking on the great triumvirate of French Cartesian scholarship—Gilson, Gueroult and Gouhier, all of whom argued that, while it is possible to find Augustinian elements in Descartes’s philosophy, nonetheless his thought is radically anti-Augustinian, sharing neither “the Augustinian spirit nor the Augustinian conception of philosophy itself” (8–10)—Menn insists that Augustinian principles inform and sustain in a very deep way Descartes’s metaphysics and epistemology. Moreover, Descartes’s general philosophical project is fundamentally the same as that of the Bishop of Hippo: to show how true wisdom can be born only from scientia. For Descartes, this means showing how the failure of Aristotelian science should lead not to a suspicion of science in general, nor to limiting oneself to a skeptical prudentialist moralizing (such as that of the Renaissance humanists), but to a true wisdom based on certain knowledge of the world. That knowledge of the world will, of course, be a mechanistic one, but it will be grounded in an Augustinian metaphysics. In the end—and here is where Menn most clearly takes issue with Gilson [End Page 625] and Co.—the project is to reconcile Christianity and philosophical knowing, precisely what Augustine set out to do.Understanding Augustine, Menn claims, requires an understanding of Plotinus and the Platonist tradition. And this, he further insists, demands that we know the essential elements of Plato’s metaphysics itself. Menn’s pursuit of depth and attention to detail can sometimes be wearying—do we really need in a book such as this a discussion of the variations in Plato’s explanation of how sensible particulars relate to intelligibles between the middle and late dialogues?—but in the end most of it pays off. We find out what Augustine found of value in his reading of Plotinus and what he needed to leave behind. Of the greatest importance, especially for someone seeking to move beyond the materialism of the Manicheans, was a conception of the human soul as an incorporeal thing and an understanding of God or nous as an immaterial and transcendent source of being and, through illumination, of knowledge. “[Augustine] went to the Platonists to learn a method for understanding God and the soul, and he accepts a great deal of the doctrine that comes from this way of understanding them, but he knew from the beginning what it was he wanted to understand: it was the God and the human souls described in the Christian scriptures” (166).What Descartes wanted was much the same, although he hoped to put it to further use by returning from the heights of metaphysics to the most general science of the natural world (physics) and the particular, practical sciences (wisdom) that follow from it. If he could successfully ground his physics in proper metaphysical first principles, then his philosophical goals would... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Descartes and the Last ScholasticsBlake D. DuttonRoger Ariew. Descartes and the Last Scholastics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999. Pp. xi + 230. Cloth, $42.50.The attempt to understand Descartes vis-à-vis the scholastic tradition dates back to the studies of Etienne Gilson early in this century. Though Descartes saw himself as a revolutionary who would overthrow the Aristotelianism entrenched in the universities, Gilson was able to demonstrate his reliance upon (...) a variety of scholastic sources for important terminology, distinctions, and arguments which permeate his writings. Unfortunately, this line of investigation was largely ignored among Anglo-American scholars who were generally hostile to Scholasticism and uninterested in contextualizing Descartes's thought. However, since the mid-eighties there has been a distinct shift in attitude as scholars have increasingly turned their attention to the place of Scholasticism within Descartes's intellectual environment. Among these, Roger Ariew has to be counted as one of the most sophisticated, and his new book, Descartes and the Late Scholastics, marks an important contribution to the growing literature on the topic.Ariew's book is actually a collection of essays published over the last decade, including two which he co-authored with Marjorie Grene. Many of these have been substantially expanded to include fresh material and reworked so as to give the whole a greater sense of continuity. After a marvelous opening chapter in which he lays out his overall account of Descartes's attitude towards Scholasticism, Ariew presents the remaining essays in two large groups: those dealing with the immediate context of Descartes's thought and those dealing with its reception through the early part of the eighteenth century.Among the more interesting results of the first group of studies is Ariew's claim that the scholastic climate in and around Paris during Descartes's lifetime was predominately Scotistic rather than Thomistic. He shows this by looking at positions taken by a number of Parisian schoolmen on important issues which typically divided Scotists and Thomists. Ariew goes on to argue that not only was the Parisian environment Scotistic, but that Descartes aligned himself with the Scotists on many key issues in both physics (e.g., that time is independent of motion) and metaphysics (e.g., that the principle of individuation is a form). This is certainly an intriguing claim since most studies of this type have viewed Descartes in relation to Aquinas and those Jesuit thinkers who were broadly Thomistic in outlook. In bringing to light this Scotistic background, Ariew has opened up an important new line of inquiry.Other topics included in this first section are the literary and philosophical background [End Page 275] to the "new way of ideas" of which Descartes is a founder, the place of Descartes's doctrine of matter and form in seventeenth century debates over hylomorphism, and the reaction of Scholastics to the observational results of the new astronomy. What emerges in these essays is not only a highly nuanced view of Descartes's relation to Scholasticism, but an important corrective to still prevalent views of the Scholastics as reactionary and blindly opposed to developments within the new science. This last point is made with particular force in the fifth essay entitled "Scholastics and the New Astronomy." There Ariew argues that the astronomical observations of Galileo et alia were not in themselves decisive for overthrowing the Aristotelian cosmology as it had been articulated in the seventeenth century. This is because scholastic astronomers were generally accepting of such findings (e.g., sunspots) and were able to accommodate them within their own systems by making relatively minor adjustments. Although these systems ultimately proved themselves inadequate, Ariew makes a strong case that the Aristotelianism of the seventeenth century was sufficiently fluid to accommodate most of what the astronomers offered up. Thus the necessity for a radical overhaul of basic philosophical and scientific assumptions was by no means as evident as standard histories of this period would have us believe.The second section of the book is dedicated to debates over Cartesianism and its fate in the generations immediately following Descartes's death. Here Ariew provides a wealth of detail about various condemnations of Cartesianism, a comparative study of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Descartes on the Human Soul: Philosophy and the Demands of Christian DoctrineRichard A. WatsonC. F. Fowler. Descartes on the Human Soul: Philosophy and the Demands of Christian Doctrine. International Archives of the History of Ideas, 160. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1999. Pp. xiii + 438. Cloth, $168.00.As Defender of the Faith, René Descartes wrote his Meditations to fulfill the request of the Fifth Lateran Council in 1513 "to (...) support with rational demonstrations the Church's teaching on the immortality of the soul" (28). This allowed him to dedicate the Meditations to the Faculty of Theology at the Sorbonne in hopes of obtaining their approbation. The Faculty remained silent, but Descartes could interpret this as consent, although he removed from later editions the notice of approbation. What the Council asked for were demonstrations of the immortality of the soul and of the substantial union of the soul with the body.Mersenne thought the Meditiations were going to provide these demonstrations, so he included in the title of the first edition the promise to demonstrate the immortality of the soul, but in later editions Descartes changed this to a promise to demonstrate the distinction between the human soul and the body, or that the soul is an independent substance that is not destroyed by the death of the body, and so can be immortal. Independent substancehood does not prove that the soul is immortal, however, for Descartes agreed that God can destroy the soul at any time. This conclusion greatly bothered Mersenne and Arnauld. As for the absolute separation of the soul from the body, Descartes was criticized for supporting the Platonic doctrine of their absolute separation, making it impossible to demonstrate that the union between soul and body is substantial and not accidental. And "the central Christian doctrines of the Creation, Incarnation, Redemption, and Resurrection required a union of body and soul much more intimate than that of agent and instrument" (310). But all that Descartes's proof supports is the Platonic model of a sailor piloting a ship. Never mind that Descartes adamantly denies that the soul sits in the body thus—for the soul in union with the body feels the body as the sailor does not feel the ship—his friends and foes alike saw that the absolute difference of soul and body made their substantial union inexplicable. It also goes against the Aristotelian view of the Council of Vienne in 1311-1312 that "defined the rational soul as the forma corporis" (310). It is exactly this view that Descartes opposed by eliminating substantial forms from his philosophy.Arnauld warned Descartes about these problems, while Gassendi, Hobbes, and others attacked him. In response, Descartes expanded his views without altering them, and complained about being misunderstood. The Jesuit Father Bourdin's attacks hurt him most, for as he told Mersenne, this made him think that all the Jesuits (they stick together) were against him. This, Fowler argues, is why Descartes dedicated the Meditations to the Faculty of the Sorbonne, and not to the Jesuits.Fowler carefully presents the entire sweep of Descartes's ideas and arguments concerning the immortality of the soul and its union with the body. Descartes in fact did not manage to demonstrate either one. He did agree that of the three sorts of truths—those known by revelation alone, those known both by revelation and demonstration, and those known only by demonstration—these points about the soul belong in the middle category. But he never mentions immortality in the Meditations, and when Princess Elisabeth faces him with his inability to explain how the soul and body [End Page 120] can interact, he just says that we experience it. Gassendi asked him the same question, but Descartes ignored him. With other critics, he shifted the question into the first category of truths—it is a matter of revelation. This was not satisfactory either to his critics or to Descartes, for it had led Pompanazzi to materialism, and it led Descartes's first disciple Regius to say bluntly that metaphysics, and in particular Descartes's metaphysics, is irrelevant to the third category of truths, those of mechanics, physics, and medicine.Baillet calls... (shrink)

Descartes was born in La Haye (now Descartes) in Touraine and educated at the Jesuit college of La Fleche` in Anjou. Descartes’modern reputation as a rationalistic armchair philosopher, whose mind–body dualism is the source of damaging divisions between psychology and the life sciences, is almost entirely undeserved. Some 90% of his surviving correspondence is on mathematics and scientific matters, from acoustics and hydrostatics to chemistry and the practical problems of constructing scientific instruments. Descartes was just as interested in the (...) motions of matter as in the supernatural soul, and he advised against spending too much time on metaphysical inquiries which neglect imagination and the senses. After meeting the Dutch engineer Isaac Beeckman in 1618, Descartes became committed to a systematically ‘mechanical’account of nature. This involved explaining all natural processes in terms of interactions between microscopic material bodies in motion. Descartes modelled his physics and cosmology on the behaviour of fluids, which also have a distinctive and central role in his physiology: the key processes for natural philosophical investigation are the circulation and mutual displacement of constrained bodies, rather than the isolated collisions of atoms in a void. Descartes settled in Holland in 1628, and commenced an ambitious programme of physiological research. In 1630 he was ‘studying chemistry and anatomy simultaneously’, and in late 1632 he was ‘dissecting the heads of various animals’, in order to ‘explain what imagination, memory, etc. consist in’. By late 1633 Descartes had almost completed L’homme, the Treatise on Man; but he abandoned plans to publish it along with a work on matter theory and optics which relied on Copernican cosmology, after he heard of the condemnation of Galileo. L’homme was published posthumously in 1662 (Latin) and 1664 (French); not until 1972 was it fully translated into English. L’homme draws on many (mostly unnamed) Renaissance medical writers, and covers, firstly, a range of traditional physiological topics, such as digestion and respiration.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS Galileo: For Copemicanism and for the Church. By ANNIBALE FANTOLI. Translated by George V. Coyne, S.J. Studi Galileiani Vol. 3. Vatican City: Vatican Observatory Publications, 1994. Distributed by the University of Notre Dame Press, Notre Dame, Indiana. Pp. xix+ 540. $21.95 (paper). This exhaustive treatment of Galileo and his relationship to the Church was first published in Italian by the Vatican Observatory in 1993 as Vol. 2 (...) of its Studi Galileiani series, bearing the title Galileo: Per il Copemicanesimo e per la Chiesa. So excellent was the study that Father George Coyne, the director of the Vatican Observatory, took it on himself personally to translate the volume into English. Although not a member of the Galileo Commission set up by Pope John Paul II to review the Galileo case, as were Coyne and myself, Fantoli has admirably complemented the work of the Commission and his book surely belongs in the Studi Galileiani collection. A former Jesuit with degrees in mathematics and physics, Fantoli began the book more than twenty-five years ago when he was preparing a course on Galileo at Sophia University in Tokyo. His intention was to show that for Galileo it was never a question of choosing between Copernicanism and the Church, and that the saddest drama of his life was being faced with an injunction that forced him to befor the Church and against Copemicanism. The subtitle of his book proclaims Galileo's true intentions, despite his failure to convince others that this was what his life was all about. A great strength of Fantoli's treatment is its documentation, which abounds in excerpts from Galileo's writings and his correspondence as found in the National Edition of his works and also in citations from new materials that have been uncovered by the Galileo Commission. Thanks to Coyne, all of these texts, many of which were hitherto available only in Latin or Italian, can now be easily accessed in English translation. Another strength of Fantoli's work is that he has kept abreast of Galileo literature over the years and thus is able to offer scholarly critiques of authors whose works exhibit a bias against the Church. Especially welcome are his careful discussions of the positions of earlier writers such as Giorgio de Santillana, Ludovico Geymonat, and Stillman Drake, as well as those of more recent authors, Mario Biagioli, Maurice Finocchiaro, Pietro Redondi, William R. Shea, and Richard S. Westfall. The book is a tour de force and there is little to criticize in it. Unfortunately, however, a typesetting error at its very beginning might create 317 318 BOOK REVIEWS the wrong impression and throw off prospective readers. About six lines of text were omitted at the bottom of page 9. To remedy this the following words should be inserted between the end of page 9 and the beginning of page 10: confused with the Sun) which had heen worked out by Philolaus (about 475 B.C.) within the context of the Pythagorean school.9 In a further modification of this theory the central fire as well as the hypothesis of an anti-earth were done away with, which left the earth at the center of the universe. To offset this addition, the last six lines on the bottom of page 10 should be deleted, for these lines are repeated at the top of page 11. Otherwise, with this change, the exposition reads correctly. The remaining typographical errors are few and in no case do they affect the sense. After a brief introduction in which he presents the astronomical concepts necessary for understanding the details of the Copernican debate, Fantoli divides his treatment into seven chapters. The first two of these are devoted to Galileo's early life and teaching at the Universities of Pisa and Padua, his perfection of the telescope, and the beginnings of the controversies about the earth's motion that were provoked by his telescopic discoveries, The next three chapters then take up the scriptural arguments in detail, Galileo's battle with the Jesuits over the comets of 1618 and his The Assayer of 1623, and his resumption of the Copernican program with the publication of his Dialogue... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Cambridge Companion to Galileo ed. by Peter MachamerMartin CurdPeter Machamer, editor. The Cambridge Companion to Galileo. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Pp xii + 462. Cloth, $59.95. Paper, $19.95.The contributions fall into three main areas: Galileo’s work on mechanics, his defense of Copernicus, and his relationship with the church. The relative number of pages devoted to these topics is unusual: the ratio is roughly 3 to 1 (...) to 3.The papers on Galileo’s mechanics and physics are by William Wallace, Peter Machamer, Rivka Feldhay, Wallace Hooper, and Pietro Redondi. Wallace concentrates on unpublished manuscripts from Galileo’s early period, arguing that they reveal Galileo’s intense involvement with Aristotelian philosophy. As in his other writings, Wallace emphasizes the importance of the demonstrative regressus argument for Galileo’s thought, especially for Galileo’s later claim in the Dialogue to have demonstrated the earth’s motion from the phenomenon of the tides. Machamer offers an “Archimedean” [End Page 364] interpretation of Galileo, stressing the Galileo’s use of simple machines, especially the balance, as a model of intelligibility throughout his scientific work. According to Machamer, these machines functioned as something like a Kuhnian exemplar for Galileo, providing the element of necessity and picturability that Galileo deemed essential for scientific explanation. Feldhay explores the role of mathematics in Galileo’s science, arguing that Galileo began to diverge from the Jesuit-Aristotelian tradition once he gave up trying to understand the causes of accelerated motion and focused instead on its geometrical analysis in terms of degrees of velocity. In a useful discussion, Hooper follows the development of Galileo’s inertial mechanics, concluding that even in the Discourses (1638) it is unclear whether Galileo abandoned his pre-Newtonian notion of impetus as the sustaining cause of motion. Redondi examines the relationship of Galileo’s physics to his theology. While Redondi’s conclusion is clear—“Galileo’s physics required God”—his argument is hard to follow, ranging as it does over Galileo’s views on time, atomism, macroscopic and microscopic physics, and cosmogony.Only two articles are directly about Galileo and the Copernican theory but those two pieces, by William Shea and Noel Swerdlow, are models of clarity. Swerdlow focuses on Galileo’s telescopic discoveries 1610–13 while Shea covers the entire period up to the Dialogue of 1632. Unfortunately, this involves repetition of the material about the telescopic discoveries, including some diagrams and illustrations. Tighter editorial control might have avoided this duplication and allowed Shea to devote more time to the fascinating arguments in the Dialogue. What we have is fine, but more would have been better.On Galileo and the church, there are contributions from Ernan McMullin, Richard Blackwell and Marcello Pera. McMullin argues that the seeds of Galileo’s downfall in 1633 were sown in his Letter to the Grand Duchess Christina (1615) in which Galileo endorsed a theory of scriptural interpretation remarkably similar to that contained in Augustine’s commentary on Genesis. McMullin finds a tension in that theory between regarding Scripture and natural science as mutually irrelevant while at the same time giving science priority over the literal reading of Scripture if and only if a demonstration has been provided. Once the demonstration principle was adopted, Galileo’s task of defending the earth’s motion against biblical literalism in the Dialogue became hopeless. Blackwell asks whether there could be another Galileo case in light of the Vatican’s admission of error in 1992. His answer is “Yes.” Blackwell reminds us that while in 1616 it was the Copernican theory that been tried and found heretical, in 1633 the sole issue was Galileo’s obedience to church authority. In Blackwell’s view, there remains the potential for conflict between the church’s “logic of centralized authority” and the democratic, pluralistic methods that give legitimacy to science. Pera, too, concludes that the possibility of conflict remains as long as the church insists that there are truths of faith, necessary for salvation, and those doctrines also have a factual content amenable, at least in principle, to scientific investigation.The book concludes with two pieces: a survey by Michael Segre of the evolution of Galileo’s... (shrink)

As in other countries, the public in Argentina became aware of the existence of something called “the theory of relativity” only after November 1919. Although the news of Arthur Eddington's eclipse expedition, which provided the first confirmation of Einstein's theory, was poorly reported in the newspapers, by the end of 1920 Einstein had become a household name for the educated middle class of Buenos Aires, the capital city of the country. This was in great measure the result of the activity (...) of a few enthusiastic lecturers. Significantly, none of them belonged to the prestigious Institute of Physics of the University of La Plata, which during the decade of the 1910s was considered the most important center of physical research in Latin America. Between July and August 1920 the Spanish physicist Blas Cabrera – perhaps the greatest popularizer of Einstein's theory in Spain – visited Argentina and talked about relativity. In September Georges Duclout, a French engineer who had graduated from the Zurich Polytechnic and by then was professor of applied mechanics at the School of Exact, Physical and Natural Sciences of the University of Buenos Aires, also gave a series of conferences on the subject. That same month José Ubach, a Jesuit astronomer trained at the Ebro Observatory in Spain, and established in Buenos Aires, lectured on relativity at the Colegio del Salvador. (shrink)

Concentrating on Teilhard's Christological interests, this book, written by a fellow Jesuit, is eminently successful in showing the essentially theological character and motivation behind Teilhard's speculations. Christology permeates the supposedly scientific theory of evolution. In Teilhard's universe, Christ is the physical center for mankind and for the material world. This vision of Teilhard's, almost Pauline in scope, is the fascination and the consternation of both theologians and scientists. A concluding chapter treats of some of the theological "risks" implicit in (...) Teilhard's attempted synthesis. Mooney is always helpful in his expositions and gracious in his criticisms. Recent, more radical theological sallies make Teilhard appear surprisingly orthodox but rather more profound. Mooney has done us a service with his book, but one emerges feeling the need for a detailed critique of Teilhard's works.—D. J. B. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 20 (2000) 311-315 [Access article in PDF] Book Review Fire and Water: Basic Issues in Asian Buddhism and Christianity Fire and Water: Basic Issues in Asian Buddhism and Christianity. By Aloysius Pieris, S. J. Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1996. Aloysius Pieris, Jesuit priest and Buddhist scholar, is well known in theological and interreligious dialogue circles in Asia, and this is the third collection of essays of his (...) to be published in the Faith Meets Faith Series of Orbis Books. The eighteen essays which make up this book, all previously published elsewhere, are conveniently put together in three sections, under the following headings: 1) Women and Religion: Buddhist and Christian Appropriation of Feminist Criticism; 2) issues in Theology, Religion and Society; and 3) questions of Spirituality and Human Liberation. To merely summarize the content of the essays and offer a third-party critique would do injustice to the book, and could even mislead one who peruses such a summary into thinking one thereby "knows" what the book or Pieris is about. Such a hasty conclusion would deprive a would-be reader of the powerful experience that awaits in wrestling with Pieris through each essay of this volume. Judith Berling puts it well in her blurb at the back, pointing out that the author "uses poetry, evocative symbolism, and humor to offer a theological call to action in a voice that is liberationist, Asian, and feminist." Indeed, this volume invites one to a way of seeing that can also transform one's way of being in this world marked by increasing violence, poverty, and a systemic kind of oppression dehumanizing to both the perpetrators as well as the victims.The title of the present volume, Fire and Water, alludes to a dynamic dipolarity, masterfully sketched for the reader by Paul Knitter in his foreword, which underlies the author's vision of reality and vivifies much of his writing. The masculine and the feminine, the (Buddhist) gnostic and the (Christian) agapeic, the metacosmic (transcendent) [End Page 311] and the cosmic (immanent), the prophetic and the mystical, are different ways of naming this dipolarity. The way to ultimate liberation is in the effective embrace of both poles in complementarity and mutual interplay, whereas taking one pole in preference over the other results in a warped vision or mode of being, in imbalance, or even in abuse.In this review I would like to simply echo some key themes that will jump at one perusing the essays, reiterating that the very act of reading them can of itself be a transformative experience for an open-minded, open-hearted, and open-handed reader.The thrust of the six essays comprising the first section can perhaps be summed up in the thesis as formulated by the author himself: "Religion cannot survive in the future without appropriating the feminist critique, just as feminism cannot achieve its liberative goal without the aid of a religion so critiqued" (p. 62). Behind this statement is Pieris' emphatically critical stance, on the one hand, against all forms of patriarchal religion, whether Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, or other, which has justified, lent a hand in, or continued to perpetrate the physical, psychological, and especially religious abuse of women, and on the other hand, against secularist (or anti-religious) kinds of feminist theory that take off on what he enumerates as "five false starts" (pp. 50-51), which only result in unnecessary dichotomies that truncate the understanding of the goal of liberation, and consequently of the human as such.Pieris offers a vision of liberation centered on what he terms the humanum. This refers to the point of ultimate perfection to which the human, that is, "whatever pertains to men and women as self-conscious, other-oriented, and dreaming components of the cosmos," has the capacity to carry the cosmos. In this context, the human is no other than "this self-transcendent capacity immanent in the cosmos, this power to unfold within itself the Other, which is ever present from the first moment of evolution." To be human is inherently to be endowed... (shrink)