The allure of knowledge
Ross MacFarlane praises a crystal clear study of the history and philosophy of science showing how explorations in magic were an integral part of the development of modern science
Magic, Science and Religion in Early Modern Europe
Mark A Waddell
Cambridge University Press 2021
Pb, 232pp, £19.99, ISBN 9781108441650
Reading Mark Waddell’s excellent book brought back to mind the time I gave a tour of my workplace for some self-declared members of the “skeptical” community.
“Well, I just don’t understand,” pronounced the most vocal member of the group, “why you have anything on alchemy in a history of science library.”
That gentleman would really hate this book; those with a more open mind will be enthralled by it.
Although written to be a student coursebook, this is no dry chronology of the period 1400 to 1750. Instead, Waddell sets out to show how magic, religion and natural philosophy (to give the more period-specific term than science) were concepts that overlapped and intermingled with each other, regardless of more recent “never-the-twain-shall-meet” categorisation of knowledge modern “skeptics” prefer.
Such interconnectedness is to Waddell one of the four major strands that underpin the early modern European mind he sets out to explore: the others being the allure of knowledge from classical antiquity, the changing nature of the relationship between God and nature, and the puzzle of the hidden workings of the Universe.
All of these strands come into focus from the outset. In his first chapter, Waddell illustrates how the drive to rediscover lost knowledge was predicated on the desire to bring truth seekers as close as possible to God.
Such an ambition underpinned the translation of the supposed ancient Egyptian knowledge of Hermes Trismegistus, the ancient Jewish lore of the Kabbalah and even John Dee’s conversations with angels. In Waddell’s words such a search promised “both the wisdom of antiquity and the promise of new innovations to come”.
Such a search could of course bring dangers: the learned Dee was cognisant that his research had led him to encounter demons impersonating angels. Could the less educated be more easily fooled by darker forces? Perhaps, but even here, Waddell argues that the darker side of magic was used to support the search for God; if witches were proved to be entering into pacts with the Devil – especially during a time when God’s authority and even existence was starting to be questioned – then existence of the Devil therefore made it easier to prove God’s authority, and if need be, existence too.
Waddell is alert to how beliefs changed during his period: how thinking around witchcraft was cumulative, with ideas continually being added and reshaped during this period.
Adaptability is key to his reading of the “weapon salve”, for example: originally a cure based around notions of sympathetic magic, it evolved “in parallel with changing philosophical explanations until it shed its magical connotations altogether”. As Waddell states, the example “provides a hint as to the ultimate fate of many other magical ideas in this period.”
As you might expect for the era under discussion, developments in understanding the place of Earth in the Universe are dealt with in depth. In Waddell’s reading, though, the actions of Copernicus and particularly Galileo do not reflect simplistic fables of science versus religion but explore the authority of the individual to investigate and re-evaluate the workings of the natural world.
Waddell here makes a telling present-day comparison: would we really believe that one individual with one piece of new(ish) technology was right and millions of people over thousands of years were wrong?
From such discussions around the workings of the Universe, Waddell moves to philosophical developments led by Pierre Gassendi and René Descartes, who prompted the ultimate question of whether there was room for God in a more “mechanical” Universe.
Here again his three themes interlock, as evidence for miracles and supernatural events begins to be studied through more “scientific” and rational means, particularly in the person of Joseph Glanville, Fellow of the newly formed Royal Society, and seeker of evidence on the existence of witchcraft.
Waddell explores the growth of such new methods – closer to our present-day notions of “evidence-based” understanding – which formed around the ideas of Sir Francis Bacon.
However, he goes on to show how their proof of success relied on the presence of trustworthy witnesses, and how such trust was built upon the social status of the witness, rather than their knowledge of what they were witnessing.
The author shows how such new methods started to produce a decline in belief in alchemy, before exploring the work of Isaac Newton – who for him embodies the title of the book – and how his interest in lost knowledge of the biblical world is now recognised as forming the basis of his “scientific” discoveries.
Waddell’s book is a brilliant work of synthesis and, in effect, he performs his own kind of alchemy, transforming heavyweight theories in the history and philosophy of science into crystal clear, accessible prose, creating a rich summary of his topic in just over 200 pages.
Magic, Science and Religion in Early Modern Europe will be a staple on student reading lists for years to come. It deserves a place on the bookshelves of every fortean – and every “skeptic” – too.
★★★★★
The actions of Copernicus and Galileo do not reflect simplistic fables of science vs religion