|
essay |
BETWEEN THE
DEMONIC AND THE MIRACULOUS:
Athanasius Kircher and the Baroque
culture of machines
Unabridged draft of essay published in abridged form in The Great Art of Knowing: The Baroque Encyclopedia of Athanasius Kircher, ed. Daniel Stolzenberg, Stanford: Stanford University Libraries, 2001, pp. 59-70
From the magnetic Jesus
walking on water described in his very first published book, the 1631 Ars Magnesia, to the unfortunate cat
imprisoned in a catoptric chest and
terrified by its myriad reflections shown to visitors to his famous
museum, the peculiar mechanical, optical, magnetic, hydraulic and pneumatic
devices constructed by Athanasius Kircher (1602-1680) continue to defy the
analytical categories used in both traditional museum history and history of
science.[1]
Although Filippo Buonanni (1638-1725) later attempted to reduce the machines of
the Kircherian museum to the status of mechanical demonstrations, even adding
some of his own[2], it is clear
that for Kircher and his immediate entourage, these machines were, in some real
sense, magical. Far from being trivial addenda to a collection of antiquities
and naturalia, the documents suggest that Kircher’s machines were
utterly central to any seventeenth century visit to the Musaeum Kircherianum.
But, from the point of view of traditional histories of science, Kircher’s
machines remain defiantly perplexing. Their emblematic, ludic, and deceptive connotations sit ill with any
attempt to place them within grand histories of “experimental science”
emphasizing the demise of Aristotelianism through the triumph of an
“experimental method” during precisely the period in which the Kircherian
museum enjoyed its exhuberant heyday. From the point of view of the history of
collections, the machines accumulated by Kircher and his disciples in Rome
cannot merely be treated as objects removed from circulation, or from their
original context of usage, as these machines had no original context of usage,
and did not circulate prior to their display in the museum.[3]
Rather, we are dealing with purpose-built installations, constructed ad hoc
by Kircher and his changing body of assistants, technicians and disciples in
the Collegio Romano.
So what are we to make of
these magical machines? This article attempts to situate Kircher’s machines in
a Baroque culture of artificial magic. Using contemporary accounts of visits to
Kircher’s museum and other documents, it aims to recover the purpose of these
devices, to understand how they worked, not only by peering inside them to
examine their secret workings, but also by looking outside them at how people
responded to them, and at how Kircher and his Jesuit companions placed this part
of their output in a rich tradition of artificial magic that has commonly been
overlooked or trivialised by historians of science. We will argue that
Kircher’s machines found their meaning in a flourishing Baroque culture of
special effects. In the same way that
“inside jokes” confirm the identity of a particular social group, while
excluding the majority of people who are not privy to the assumptions on which
the joke is based, the machines of Kircher and his disciples provided an elite
social group with self-defining puzzles and enigmas.
The game of deducing the
natural causes behind the strange effects produced by Kircher’s magical
machines, such as a clepsydra apparently pouring water upwards into a “watery
heaven”, really caused by a hidden mirror, was somewhat akin to fox-hunting or
golf in our society: if you could play the game, your identity as part of a
particular social elite was confirmed. If you could not play the game, and had
to assume that demonic forces were responsible for the strange effects you were
witnessing, you were doomed to the ranks of the vulgar masses. In this respect,
Kircher’s machines had much in common with courtly emblems and enigmas, and the
culture of “sprezzatura” which countless behaviour-manuals vainly
attempted to divulge in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.[4]
Like many types of joke, Kircher’s machines are, we argue, inherently
conservative. They rest on a shared mystery – the hidden causes behind the
visible effects. To challenge the received picture of the causes operating in
the natural world in response to such a machine would thus amount in a strong
sense to spoiling the joke for everybody else.[5]
At the core of Kircher’s
marvellous machines, then, lies a robust epistemological conservatism.
Kircher’s machines thus offer us an alternative to conventional stories of the
inevitable collapse of Aristotelian natural philosophy through direct
experimentation, and require us to refine our understanding of the roles played
by machines, experiments and instruments in seventeenth century natural
philosophy. The culture of the elite audience for which Kircher’s machines were
designed is inscribed graphically on the machines themselves – one need only
consider such items as the water-vomiting two-headed Imperial Eagle (fig. 1, see also fig. 2), or the
perspectival trick unjumbling an image of Pope Alexander VII. Indeed, one could
arguably take this further and view the Musaeum Kircherianum as a whole
as something of a self-portrait of an elite, primarily a Roman Catholic elite
centered around the twin poles of the courts of Rome and Vienna. This elite was
not a “given” quantity when Kircher’s museum came into existence – rather the
museum helped to construct and consolidate the elite while the elite helped to
construct the museum by corresponding with Kircher and providing him with
portrait medals, natural curiosities and other objects for his collection.
At the centre of a vast
correspondence network, and increasingly famous through his lavishly
illustrated encyclopedic publications, Kircher wielded considerable power to
shape the social group represented in his museum. Limited only by his religious
poverty, Kircher extended his network at will to include powerful Protestants
such as Duke August of Brunswick-Lüneburg or Queen Christina of Sweden, prior
to her conversion. In a revealing letter to Duke August’s librarian Johann
Georg Anckel, Kircher wrote that he had immediately had Duke August’s portrait
“framed in gold and put up in my Gallery as a Mirror of the magnanimity, wisdom
and generosity of the high-born prince”, adding that “my Gallery or museum is
visited by all the nations of the world and a prince cannot become better known
in hoc Mundi theatro than have his likeness here. And if the expense
were not so great I would do this for all Germans, but I must cut my coat
according to my cloth”.[6]
As well as holding up a
trick-mirror to an elite audience, Kircher’s museum also emblematized the
Jesuit order itself. Many of the curious natural objects and artefacts of
remote cultures present in the museum were sent to Kircher by Jesuit
missionaries, who constitute the single most numerous group of his
correspondents. Some of Kircher’s machines provide striking emblematic
depictions of his order – his universal catholic horoscope of the Society of
Jesus was a large sundial representing the Jesuit order as an olive tree, with
the different Assistancies or administrative divisions of the order represented
as branches, and the different colleges represented as leaves. Tiny sundials
placed in each province give the local time, and the shadows of the gnomons of
the sundials, when aligned, spelled “IHS”, the abbreviated name of Jesus and
symbol of the Jesuit order, which appears to “walk over the world” with the
passing of time (fig. 3).[7]
In Kircher’s museum, visitors were also shown “a large crystalline globe full
of water representing the resurrection of the Saviour in the midst of the
waters”.[8] One of the aims of this article is to
understand the relationship between such artefacts and Kircher’s position in
the Jesuit Collegio Romano. The moment of the creation of the Musaeum
Kircherianum coincided with a disciplinary crisis in Jesuit education that
led the superiors of the order to condemn departures from Aristotle in
philosophy, including natural philosophy or physics, and from Thomas Aquinas in
theology. The works of Jesuit authors on natural philosophy during this period
were closely scrutinized for anti-Aristotelian views.[9]
The exotic publications of Kircher and his disciples seem to contradict this
doctrinal fundamentalism, but we will suggest that the contradiction is only
apparent. The treatment of machines and instruments, even those associated with
criticisms of Aristotle, in the works of Kircher and his Jesuit apprentices in
magic was designed to avoid conflict with fundamental Aristotelian principles.
The machines
Before taking a look at the
the magical and mathematical traditions from which Kircher’s machines emerged
and the functions, mechanical and social, that they performed, it might be
opportune to have a first glance at the machines themselves. In 1678 Giorgio de
Sepibus (fl. 1678), Kircher’s “assistant in making machines” published the
first catalogue of the Musaeum Kircherianum.[10]
Little is known about De Sepibus, from the Wallis (Valesia) canton in
Switzerland, who seems to have been an intermittent companion of Kircher, and
is first mentioned ten years earlier in a letter from the Oratorian priest
Francesco Gizzio to Kircher. In 1670 Kircher sent De Sepibus to Naples, where
he brought a number of machines to perfection, with the exception of a
“versatile pulpit” that was left incomplete. It is not clear when De Sepibus
left Kircher’s service, but by 1674 Kircher seems to have feared him dead, so
with all likelihood the catalogue was completed well before its publication.[11] De Sepibus provides us with a summary list
of the machines present in Kircher’s museum, which may serve as our starting
point:
1.
Two helical spirals most skilfully measuring cycles
with the twisted coils of snakes. An organ, driven by an automatic drum,
playing a concert of every kind of birdsong, and sustaining in mid-air a
spherical globe, continually buffetted by the force of the wind.
2.
A hydrostatic-magnetic machine, representing the
hours, zodiac, planets and the whole fabric of the heavens. The hours are
described by means of a very simple motion, in which images of the Sun and Moon
alternately ascend and descend vertically. The divisions of the hour are marked
by the sympathetic motion of the flight of small birds.
3.
A magnetic-hydraulic machine displaying the time all
over the world, as well as the astronomical, Italian, Babylonian and ancient
hours.
4.
A little fountain moving the globe weighing down on the
head of Atlas in a circle by hidden movements.
5.
A fountain lifts a genie fixed in the water up and
down, with a perpetual motion of tossing about and turning.
6.
A fountain in which the Goddess Isis, contained in a
crystalline sphere, is sustained, and greets guests by spraying water
everywhere.
7.
A hydraulic machine that apes perpetual motion,
recently invented by the Author, consisting of a clepsydra that flows out when
it is inverted, and again when it is turned the right way up, wetting a watery
heaven with its spray.
8.
A hydraulic machine most skilfully representing the
Primum Mobile, and violently impelling a brass snake resting on top of the
water in twists and turns by water.
9.
A water-vomiting hydraulic machine, at the top of
which stands a figure vomiting up various liquids for guests to drink.
10.
A hydraulic
clock urging or carrying globes or genies up and down inside crystal tubes of
five palms in height, indicating the different times.
11.
A hydraulic
machine, which supports a crystal goblet, from one side of which a thirsty bird
drinks up water, that a snake revomits from the other side while opening its
mouth
12.
A
hydrotectonic machine moving armed knights from one place and a crowd returning
from another by means of continual drops.
13.
A
two-headed Imperial Eagle, vomitting water copiously from the depths of its
gullets.
14.
A crowd of
dancing genies driven by the silent approach of water
15.
The dove of
Archytas reaching towards a crystalline rotunda and indicating the hours by its
free flight.
16.
The
catoptric theatre, completely filled with a treasure of all sorts of
delicacies, fruits, and precious ornaments
17.
An
architectural perspective representing the arrangement of the rooms inside a
magnificent palace.
18.
A perpetual
screw, the invention of Archimedes, by which it is an easy matter to lift 125
pounds with the strength of a very weak small boy.
19.
A large
crystalline globe full of water representing the resurrection of the Saviour in
the midst of the waters.
Various
thermoscopes, or thermometers which indicate the daily growth of simples, the
mutations of the air, the ebb and flow of the tide, and the variation of the
winds, together with experiments on the origins of springs.
An
extremely large concavo-convex burning mirror, with a collection of many
mirrors, some of which show ghosts in the air, others show objects unchanged,
others show them multiplied and others reconstitute completely undetermined
species from a confused series into a beautiful form. Amongst these there is
one which reconstitutes the effigy of Alexander VII.
....
A
large number of mechanical clocks, one of which plays harmonious music by a
concert of bells with an elaborate movement, at any hour it plays the sound,
also every half-hour with a marvellous harmony of notes and sweetness of sound
it plays the hymn Ave Maris stella. Another one indicating the time of
day by the movement of a pendulum. Another , finally, giving the minutes and
seconds of time. The part of the world illuminated by the sun, the increase and
decrease of day and night. The current sign of the zodiac, the astronomical and
Italian hours, as well as the ancient hours, or the unequal hours, which it
describes along a straight line by a singular artifice. Many sundials.
...
Armillary
spheres, and celestial and terrestrial globes, equipped with their meridians
and pivots.
Astrolabes,
Planispheres, Quadrants, a very full collection of mathematical instruments.
...
The
Delphic Oracle, or speaking statue.
A
Divinatory Machine for any planetary influence at the circumference of two
glass spheres by genies moved uniformly by a mutually sympathetic motion.
Twisting themselves to the same degree at a large distance, each of them in his
sphere indicates the same point of the sign.
Various
motions of solid globes bearing a resemblance to perpetual motion.
A
hydraulic perpetual motion by rarefaction and condensation, an Archimedean
screw carrying globes up with a continual motion through helical glass
channels.[12]
This list is both illuminating
and opaque – while allowing us to form an idea of what some of the machines may
have looked like or sounded like, it gives us little or no idea of how they
were perceived by contemporaries. Let us take one of them at random -- “the
Delphic Oracle, or speaking statue”, the description of which De Sepibus leaves
to the final chapter of his catalogue of the museum’s contents, stating that
“we have rightly left the greatest machination of art until the final course”.
What was this great “machination”? How did it work? Why was it made? De Sepibus
gives the following description of the oracle:
Kircher
has [sic, for “had”] a tube in the workshop of his bedroom, arranged in
such a way that the porters, in order to call him to the door when business
demanded it, used not have to take the trouble to go all the way to his
bedroom, but merely called him in a normal voice at the door that gave access
to the open-air garden. He heard their
words as clearly as if they had been present in his bedroom, and answered in the
same way, through the tube [...] Later he transferred this tube to the Museum,
and inserted it into a statue in such away that the statue, almost breathing
life, is seen to speak with its mouth open, and its eyes moving. He named this
statue the Delphic oracle, as it was in the same way, by the ingenious trick of
stuffing tubes into the mouths of idols, that the ancient priests of the
Egyptians and Greeks deceived the people consulting the oracle and made
superstitious men give valuable offerings[13]
A manuscript draft of De
Sepibus’ description (in Kircher’s handwriting incidentally, suggesting that he
had a rather active role in the composition of the 1678 catalogue), is
conserved amongst Kircher’s manuscripts in the Pontifical Gregorian University,
in which he sometimes calls the machine the Oracle of Apollo, but otherwise
describes it almost identically.[14]
Kircher’s earlier 1673 work on sound and acoustics, the Phonurgia nova,
gives us a more detailed account of the machine, and its changing role in the Collegio
Romano:
There
was a repository in my Museum, between the wall and the door. At the end of the
repository was an oval shaped window, looking out over the domestic garden of
the Collegio Romano, which is about 300 palms in length and width.
Inside this repository, or workshop, I adapted a conical tube to the length of
the space, made from a length of 22 palms of sheet-iron, the speaking hole of
which did not exceed ¼ of a palm in diameter. The tube, however, had a diameter
of one palm at its aperture that then grew gradually by continuous and
proportional increments in diameter so that the orifice of the part extended
out of the oval window towards the garden had a diameter of three palms. We
have seen how the tube was made, now we will also explain its effect.
Whenever
our porters had to inform me of something, either of the arrival of guests or
of any other matter, so that they would not be inconvenienced by having to come
to my Museum through the labyrinthine corridors of the college, while standing inside
the porters’ lodge they could talk to me while I remained in the remote
recesses of my bedroom, and, as if they were present, they could tell me
whatever they wanted clearly and distinctly. Then I too could respond in the
same tone of voice according to the demands of the matter, through the orifice
of the tube. Indeed nobody could say anything inside the garden in a clear
voice that I could not hear inside my bedroom, and this was a thing seen as
completely new and unheard of by the visitors to my museum, when they heard
speech, but couldn’t see who was talking. So that I would not be suspected of
some prohibited Art by the astonished people, I showed them the hidden
structure of the device. It is difficult to say how many people, even including
many Roman Nobles, were attracted to see and hear this machine.
...
It
happened later that I was required to transfer my Private Museum into a more
suitable, and open space in the Collegio Romano, that they call the
Gallery. Here, the tube that I have briefly described before was also moved,
and even now it is looked at and listened to under the name of the Delphic
Oracle, with the following difference: the tube that previously propagated
clearly spoken words plainly into a distant space, now acts secretly in ludic
oracles and false consultations with a hidden and quiet voice, so that nobody
present is able to perceive anything of the secret technique of the reciprocal
murmured conversation. And when it is exhibited to strangers even to this day,
there are not lacking those who harbour a suspicion of demons among those who
do not understand the machine, for the statue opens and closes its mouth as if
it was speaking, and moves its eyes. Therefore I built this machine in order to
demonstrate the impostures, fallacies and frauds of the ancient priests in the
consultation of oracles. For while they gave their answers through secret tubes
(described in the Oedipus), they urged the people to give offerings
extravagantly, if they wanted their prayers to be answered. And consequently,
by this fraud, they were able to greatly increase their wealth. In any case I
would not deny that they also secretly involved demons in their works.[15]
Kircher’s Delphic oracle
reveals much about the role of machines in his Museum, and also much about the
history of the museum itself. We are told that Kircher had a “private museum”
before he transferred his collection to the Gallery of the Collegio Romano
after the “official” founding of the museum with Alfonso Donnini’s 1651 bequest
of his collection of antiquities to the Collegio Romano.[16]
Where was this “private museum”? In the passage cited from the Phonurgia
Nova, Kircher identifies it explicitly with his “cubiculum”, or
bedroom in the Collegio Romano. So, even before Kircher was in charge of
the Gallery of the Collegio, his own bedroom functioned as a museum,
containing within it a storage area or workshop, from which his speaking-tube
originally allowed him to communicate with, or occasionally eavesdrop on,
people in the College garden and the college porters, who, one imagines, must
have been pleased with this labour-saving device. In England, at around the
same time, another prominent mathematical magician, John Wilkins (1614-1672),
made a similar speaking-tube in the gardens of Wadham College, Oxford. One day,
a certain Mr. Ashwell was strolling through the college, shortly after Cromwell
had urged the Fellows of Oxford University to bring the Gospel to Virginia. As
he passed the statue of Flora, he was astonished to hear it say to him “Ashwell goe preach the Gospel in Virginia”,
in a Puritanical translation of Kircher’s Jesuit machine.[17]
To return to Kircher’s
multi-purpose bedroom in the Collegio Romano, however, it may appear
strange that this domestic space also functioned as a museum, and clearly
attracted enough visitors to warrant the development of an intercom system. In
fact, there was a long tradition in the Collegio Romano before Kircher’s
arrival of describing the bedroom of the senior mathematician of the college as
the musaeum mathematicum. Christoph Clavius (1538-1612), famous for his
commentary on the Sphere of Sacrobosco, and for his extensive activities as a
Jesuit mathematical pedagogue, kept mathematical instruments, clocks and
manuscripts in this space, a space that also served as the focus for the
activities of the private mathematical academy of the Collegio Romano.
Unlike the normal mathematics lectures that formed part of the College’s public
curriculum in philosophy, often taught by a junior professor, the mathematical
academy was founded with the specific aim of teaching mathematics professors
for the Jesuit colleges in the different provinces of the Order. Generally, the
bedrooms of Jesuits were not provided with keys, but, along with the rooms of
the Superiors and the Procurator (responsible for the financial affairs of the
College), the room of the senior mathematician of the College formed an
exception.[18] The added
security of a key meant that the mathematics professor could store valuable
mathematical instruments in his domestic space. The musaeum mathematicum
of the Collegio Romano then, formed a space for advanced level
mathematical teaching and for the formation of close relationships between
master and disciples, relationships which generally continued through
correspondence after the apprentice mathematicians left to teach the
mathematical disciplines in the provinces. When Christoph Clavius died, in
1612, his correspondence, manuscripts, instruments and position as the most
senior mathematician of the Collegio Romano were inherited by the
Tyrolese Jesuit Christoph Grienberger (c. 1564-1636). After Grienberger’s death
in on 11 March 1636, the manuscripts collected by Clavius and Grienberger,
their “archive” of correspondence, and their instruments seem to have all
passed to Kircher. So, although Kircher only occupied the position of public
mathematics professor for a short time, he inherited the musaeum
mathematicum, a space in which the building of instruments and machines was
already an established tradition. Indeed, Kircher’s far more modest predecessor
Grienberger was rumoured to have invented a speaking statue himself.[19]
We find ample references in the works of Kircher to the documents and objects
Kircher inherited. In Kircher’s 1641 book on magnetism, the Magnes, for
example, Kircher states clearly that “I have collected together many
observations concerning magnetic declination that are not to be rejected [...]
partly from the Archive that I possess of mathematical letters sent from the
different parts of the globe to Clavius, Grienberger and my other predecessors
as Roman mathematicians of the Society of Jesus”.[20]
Emulating the private
mathematical academy directed by Clavius and Grienberger before his arrival in
Rome, Kircher gathered private disciples around him who were also able to avail
of the instruments and documents that Kircher had inherited from his
mathematical predecessors. While
working as Kircher’s assistant in Rome between 1652 and 1654, Kaspar Schott
(1608-1666) seems to have spent much of his time leafing through the papers of
Clavius and Grienberger: “In the manuscripts of the most learned man Fr.
Christoph Grienberger [...] that I found in the Clavius and Grienberger archive
”, he wrote in his Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, “I came across the
following words about this Machine made by Bettini, and an opinion about
perpetual motion”.[21]
Describing a machine in which a sphere was suspended in the air and rotated
about its centre, Schott wrote “I found the following machine amongst the
papers of Fr. Christoph Clavius and Fr. Christoph Grienberger, once professors
of mathematics in this Roman College of ours. However it was in the handwriting
of neither of them, nor was it composed by them, as it smelled of neither of
their lanterns. I suspect that it was sent to Clavius by one of the disciples
of Francesco Maurolico, the Abbot of Messina, for it cites a small unpublished
treatise of his. But, whomsoever’s manuscript it is, I have judged it fitting
that it should be inserted here, since it can be applied to many things by an
industrious artisan”.[22]
Schott also borrowed items from the Clavius and Grienberger “mathematical
archive” that he did not acknowledge – a demonstration of how to lift a golden
earth using the force of one talent, using a system of toothed wheels published
in his Magia Universalis is lifted directly from an unpublished
manuscript by Grienberger that Kircher would have possessed, as is a passage
extolling the powers of mathematics and the extraordinary achievements of
Archimedes in the same work.[23]
Schott and De Sepibus also
inform us about instruments, experiments and machines that Kircher had
inherited from Clavius and Grienberger, and subsequently transferred to the
Gallery after 1651, such as a trick-lantern made by Grienberger that performed
in the same way when filled with water as with oil, and a sample of water from
the river Jordan that Clavius had sealed hermetically in a glass vial, perhaps
the most undramatic of Kircher’s museum exhibits, demonstrating the
incorruptibility of water by remaining forever unchanged. A wooden astrolabe
made by Grienberger was also displayed prominently in the museum, though by the
time Sepibus compiled his catalogue it had been almost completely eaten away by
woodworm.[24] From all
these examples, it should be clear that Kircher effectively inherited a space,
complete with manuscripts, instruments and experiments, that already had a
well-established role in the Collegio Romano – the musaeum
mathematicum, and that many of the functions of this space did not change
dramatically with Kircher’s arrival in Rome, when the space became his “private
museum”. Indeed, it seems that most Jesuit colleges where mathematics was
taught in the mid-seventeenth century had a mathematical museum of some
description, which was normally the bedroom of the senior mathematician of the
college where the mathematical instruments could be locked away, though most
would have been far more modest than that of the Collegio Romano. An example
is Valentin Stansel’s mathematical museum in Prague, where Jakob Johann
Wenceslaus Dobrzensky de Nigro Ponte saw a hydro-magnetic fountain clock, that
he described in his Nova, et amaenior de admirando fontium ... philosophia.[25]
The descriptions of Kircher’s
Delphic oracle quoted above also reflect on other aspects of his machinic
installations. Kircher claims to have built the device in order to expose the
“impostures, fallacies and frauds of the ancient priests”, so the ludic machine
bears a moral burden. The corruption of the good magic given by God to Adam
into a tool of deception and evil-doing in the hands of the post-diluvian
Egyptians is a theme that crops up frequently in the works of Kircher and
Schott, and we shall return to it. In the house of a certain Francesco Serra,
Kircher and Schott had seen an example of an Egyptian speaking statue (fig. 4) designed to contain just such a speaking-tube as
that hidden in Kircher’s Delphic Oracle, illustrated in the Oedipus
Aegyptiacus.[26] The section
of this work dealing with Egyptian mechanics contains many examples of the
tricks employed by Egyptian priests to deceive worshippers, and many of the
machines in Kircher’s museum relate to the debunking of Egyptian magic (see
e.g. fig. 5, fig. 6). A “multimammary
Goddess”, for example, spraying forth liquid from her multiple breasts (fig. 7), is described both in the Oedipus Aegyptiacus
and in Schott’s Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, where Schott writes:
“many thought that this work was constructed with the art of prestidigitation
and of demons, but Fr. Kircher clearly showed that this was a devious
machination of the priests [...] and he has a small machine in his museum that
he displays to this end”.[27]
Describing another Egyptian device, an altar on which small gods or demons
dance (fig. 8), Kircher writes “A devious invention
elaborately contrived by either Priests or evil demons in order to enslave the
stupid and ignorant plebs in idolatrous servitude, so that nothing more
effective or powerful could be devised for the cult of false gods”.[28]
It is interesting that, while exposing the fraudulence of the magic of the
Egyptian priests, Kircher will nonetheless not rule out their involvement with
demons. One might have thought that the priests’ impressive technical skills
would have removed any need for traffic with real demons. Regarding Kircher’s
own performances with his Delphic oracle, we are also told that he was
frequently suspected of involvement with demons by his less perceptive
visitors, and that he explained the functioning of the machine in order to
remove suspicions of him practicing “some prohibited Art”. Traffic with demons
was no laughing matter in the mid-seventeenth century, at the height of the
European witch-craze. One could well imagine that a less well-inclined audience
might well view Kircher’s wonders in an altogether different light. Indeed, on
one of the few occasions when Kircher performed in front of a larger audience,
this was precisely what happened. Kircher, in his early twenties, had recently
arrived in Heiligenstadt after being stripped of his clothes and nearly killed
by heretical soldiers who recognised him as a Jesuit, and a legation sent by
the Archbishop-Elector of Mainz was about to be received in the town. The
following excerpt is from his posthumous autobiography:
And
because it was decided to spare no magnificence to provide an appropriate
welcome for the legates, I was commissioned to arrange a theatrical performance.
When I exhibited this, as they saw some things that went beyond common
knowledge, the legates who witnessed the performance were so excited to great
admiration that some of them accused me of the crimes of Magic, with some
people say other things against me. In order to free myself of such an ugly
crime I was obliged to expose the mechanisms of all of the things that I had
exhibited. And when this task was discharged to everybody’s great satisfaction,
so that they could hardly be separated from me, I also gave them a new
collection of Mathematical Curiosities together with a laudatory panegyric in
exotic languages composed in their honour, by which things resulted no small
increase in their benevolence towards me.[29]
It is clear from this episode
that Kircherian magic flirted dangerously with the boundaries between technical
ingenuity and the “prohibited art” of demonic magic. The Elizabethan magician
John Dee (1527-1608), similarly came under suspicion of demonic magic in
England when he constructed an automatic “scarabeus” that flew up to Jupiter's
palace during a performance of a comedy by Aristophanes, when in fact the
theatrical trick was achieved by "pneumatithmie" or by
"waights”.[30] Perhaps
this very flirtation with the black arts was a source for titillation for the
princely and religious audience of Kircher’s wonders – an audience directly
involved in the persecution of popular magic during the same period – allowing
them to experience the “armchair-thrills” of magic without being morally implicated.[31] Jesuit theatrical productions during this
period were particularly famous for their stage-machinery – convincing
representations of hell were a speciality – and for their hard-hitting moral
didacticism, both features that they shared with Kircher’s
machinic-performances, as we have seen in the case of the Delphic oracle.[32]
Other inventions of Kircher’s also appear to have come under suspicion of
demonic magic, including the magnetic anemoscope that he built in Malta (fig. 9), while he was supposed to be providing spiritual
guidance to Landgrave Ernst of Hessen-Darmstadt, relied, like many Kircherian
machines, on a hidden magnet. The magnet, rotated by a wind-vane, caused a
figure of Aeolius, the god of winds, suspended in a glass sphere, to point to
the direction of the wind marked on the outside of the sphere. Some of the
Knights of Malta who witnessed Kircher’s machine apparently suggested that it
must contain a real demon, and Kircher, yet again, had to take pains to
demonstrate that his brand of magic was entirely natural.[33]
Anatomies of machines and
mechanical anatomies
By the time that De Sepibus’
catalogue was published, the Musaeum Kircherianum had entered a dramatic
phase of decline, only to be resurrected through the efforts of Filippo
Buonanni in the early years of the eighteenth century. The famous frontispiece of
De Sepibus’ work, and many of its contents are misleading, as they represent
Kircher’s museum as occupying a space that it had long abandoned, due to
General Oliva’s decision to transform it into a library for the Jesuit
“scriptors”, excused from teaching duties in order to devote themselves to
writing works for publication. The frescoed lunettes and large windows of the
space depicted and described in De Sepibus’ catalogue had long been forsaken
for a dark corridor, much to the dismay of the ageing Kircher. The catalogue
thus presents immediate problems as a historical document of Kircher’s museum.
By 1678, Kircher, depicted on the frontispiece of De Sepibus’ catalogue warmly
welcoming a pair of visitors to his museum, was nearing death, and spending
almost all of his time in the Marian shrine of the Mentorella in the hills of
Lazio, where his heart was soon to be buried.[34]
De Sepibus’ catalogue of the
museum, then, crammed with illustrations culled from Kircher’s other works,
must be regarded as a monument to a dead, or at least dying and transfigured
institution. In order to understand the magical nature of the machines on
display in the museum, many of which had fallen into disrepair by 1678 we will
have to look elsewhere. Long before De Sepibus published the catalogue,
repeated attempts to publish a description of Kircher’s gallery had been made
by Kircher’s close disciple Kaspar Schott.[35]
Schott’s association with Kircher had begun in 1630, when he was studying in
Würzburg, a city that both Schott and his master had to abandon with the
onslaught of the Swedish troops of Gustavus Adolphus in 1631. Whereas Kircher
fled to the South of France, arriving in the Jesuit province of Lyon along with
40 other Jesuit refugees, Schott made for Tournai, and then began a series of
wanderings through Sicily, where he completed his studies and taught in a
number of Jesuit colleges.[36]
Between late 1652 and 1654, Schott was finally reunited with Kircher in Rome
for an extraordinarily intense period of activity centered around the recently
founded museum, a period that was to fuel his prolific output in the years that
followed.[37] In addition
to assisting Kircher in the museum, Schott performed a number of other tasks.
While Kircher laboured to complete his monumental Oedipus Aegyptiacus,
Schott patiently edited the third edition of Kircher’s Magnes. An
anonymous foreword by the “Author’s colleague in literary matters” inserted
into this edition gives a graphic picture of the conscientious approach taken
by Schott to this task:
I
examined and emended all of the calculations and arithmetic tables with great
care. I inspected the words in Latin, Greek and Hebrew of authors who were
cited in the original sources and where they had been corrupted I restored
them. I compared the magnetic declinations and inclinations, and other
observations sent here to the Author (who had asked for them by letters) with
the autographs, and eliminated typographical errors. I inspected the diagrams
even engraved on brass or wood, and emended the mistakes, restoring the missing
or erroneous letters, lines and signs. For several elevations I substituted
more accurate ones. From time to time I eliminated words, or added them, or
changed them, when I noticed that the sense was either false, altered or
unclear. In arranging the Appendices, Paradoxes, Problems, and new Experiments
and Machines written by the Author, or given to me to write, I conserved an
order that altered the order of the previous editions as little as possible
[...] I omitted, finally, no task that I felt would contribute to the splendour
of the Work.[38]
Modern editors may take note.
As well as working as Kircher’s editor, Schott was deeply involved with the
machines of the museum, and it is to his works that we will turn to attempt to
situate Kircher’s machines in a magical tradition. Schott’s Mechanica
Hydraulico-Pneumatica was published in 1657, shortly after his return to
Germany. Apart from the appendix, which dealt with the new “Magdeburg”
experiment carried out by Otto von Guericke to demonstrate the existence of a
vacuum, Schott had composed the book while he was still in Rome with Kircher,
as he explains in a “Notice to the Reader”, excusing himself for often writing
as if he was still living in Rome. Schott writes that he plans “to compose a
Natural Magic, collected from the printed works and manuscripts of the most
learned man Athanasius Kircher, of world-wide fame, and also from all of his
notes and loose pieces of paper that are in my possession, as well as from the
works of other approved authors and the inventions of ours (i.e. Jesuits),
composed in all trustworthiness and as the result of much study, established
through my own experiments and those of others”. His promised work,
subsequently published as the Magia Universalis Naturae et Artis, will
contain “various, curious and exotic spectacles of admirable effects, wonders
of recondite inventions, that are rightly called magic, free from all imposture
and suspicion of the forbidden Art”.[39]
In the meantime, Schott’s Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica consists in an
exhaustive description of the hydraulic and pneumatic machines found in
Kircher’s museum. As he writes in the preface to the work:
There
is, in the much-visited Museum (that we will soon publish in print) of the Most
learned and truly famous Author mentioned above (i.e. Kircher), a great
abundance of Hydraulic and Pneumatic Machines, that are beheld and admired with
enormous delight of their souls by those Princes and literati who rush
from all cities and parts of the world to see them, and who hungrily desire to
know how they are made, and so that I can satisfy their desire to know the
construction of the machines, I have undertaken to show the fabric, and almost
the anatomy of all of the Machines in the said Museum, or already shown
elsewhere by the same author.[40]
Schott promises to give his
readers detailed instructions on how to make instruments “for garden pleasures,
for the utility of houses, for the commodities, and ornaments, particularly of
Princes, who derive greater pleasure of their eyes and souls from these things
than they might expect profit for their estate. Neither will we be satisfied
with delighting only the eyes, we also prepare a feast for the ears, with
various self-moving and self-sounding organs and instruments, that we will
excite to motion and sound only by the flow of water and the stealthy approach
of air, with no less ease than skill”.[41]
Schott’s Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica,
then, provides an eloquent “identikit” picture of the ideal audience for
Kircherian wonders, a leisured, decadent class of princes and cardinals, quite
happy to turn their minds away from pressing matters of church and state in
order to delight their minds, eyes and ears with the sensual pleasures provided
by Kircherian machines. From the rich study of the intellectual culture of the
Habsburg monarchy carried out by R.J.W. Evans, we see that this description was
entirely consonant with the consuming interests of the prominent members of the
Viennese courts of Ferdinand III and Leopold I.[42] The wonders described in Schott’s work give
us a vivid picture of how Kircher and his disciples went about satisfying the
remarkable thirst for hydraulic and pneumatic curiosities of a Catholic elite
on a daily basis. In one instance, Schott describes an incident in which the
two Jesuit companions came across the marvellous spectacle of a “water-vomiting
seat” in a Roman villa:
Lately
Father Kircher and I were wandering through the fields of Rome to take the air,
and we went into a suburban villa, on the facade of which an elegantly made
sciatheric sundial was painted. While we were looking at this curiosity, we
were invited by a Noble Frenchman to inspect the building and garden more
thoroughly. We entered, and first saw a most delightful pleasure-garden, filled
with flowers and fruit, and ornamented with statues of all kinds. We then
entered a most elegant house, ornamented with paintings, emblems, epigrams, and
epigraphs in Latin, Greek and Arabic, and thoroughly filled with statues and
artificious machines, so that even Pope Innocent X, as he was being carried
through the same fields with the delight of his soul, entered the same house
and garden, and was not reluctant to honour it with his presence. The villa
belongs to Jean Laborne, a French Presbyter and Knight of the same Pope.
Amongst the other things, by which I was most delighted, was a seat known as
hydratic or water-vomiting because of its effect.[43]
If we are to take De
Sepibus’s list of machines as a guide, we are forced to conclude that the
predominantly German princely audience of the productions of Kircher and Schott
had a peculiar fascination with regurgitation. From the two-headed Imperial Eagle
(fig. 1), belching water copiously from its twin
gullets, to the “water-vomiting hydraulic machine, at the top of which stands a
figure vomiting up various liquids for guests to drink”, not to mention the
various birds and snakes ingesting and throwing-up water from goblets, the
spectacle of retching, puking, and spewing seems to have been the very epitome
of good taste and noble amusement for the visitors to Kircher’s museum (see
e.g. fig. 10). Schott further confirms this impression
of an “emetophiliac” Catholic elite. One of the most endearing machines of his Mechanica
is a “cancer vomitor” (fig. 11), illustrated as
a nauseous lobster, bending forlornly over the edge of a goblet in its unhappy
state. One is left unsure whether sea-sickness or the drinking of the goblet’s
contents is responsible. Like a number of the machines illustrated in Schott’s
works, this device was adapted from the popular work by Daniel Schwenter
(1585-1636), later expanded by Georg Philipp Harsdörffer (1607-1658), the Deliciae
Physico-Mathematicae.[44]
Perhaps the most graphic demonstration of the cult of emesis is in Schott’s
description of a French visitor to Rome with an unusual talent:
While
I was writing this, Jean Royer, a Frenchman from Lyon, who is superior to all in
the art that we have been discussing, arrived here. From his stomach he brought forth twelve or fourteen differently
coloured perfumed waters, most perfect liquors, distilled wine that could be
set alight, and rock oil that burned with a lamp-wick, lettuces and flowers of
all kinds, with complete and fresh leaves. He also exhibits a fountain by
projecting water out of his mouth into the air for the time of two Misereres.[45]
The description of this
technicolour spectacle is followed by a letter from Kircher, in which he
reassures worried readers that the digestive system of Mr. Royer was entirely
free of demonic interference, and that his stomach-churning feats were carried
out purely through the manipulation of natural causes. Royer, it transpires,
had even entertained the Emperor at Regensburg, also exhibiting his “art”
before “five kings and many princes and learned men”. In Schott’s work, Royer
himself is classified as a machine – “Machina VII”, included with other
incontinent “hydropota”. Moreover, in order to ensure that his talent was
entirely natural, Kircher had studied his act closely in the Musaeum
Kircherianum itself, so he certainly earns his place in a discussion of the
museum’s hydraulic machines.[46] The Miserere, incidentally, appears
to have been a commonly used and even somewhat standardized unit of time
measurement for seventeenth century Jesuit experimenters. Elsewhere, Schott
describes one of his more dangerous experiments involving heating a sealed
glass tube full of mercury, recounting that “after about the time in which
Psalm 50, Miserere mei Deus, can be recited, it opened a way for itself
with great violence and noise” When Schott performed this experiment in front
of the son of the Duke of Holstein, the noise of the explosion brought the
young nobleman’s servants running in fear of an assassination attempt. Jesuits describing Manfredo Settala’s
burning mirrors in Milan remarked that “the smaller mirror, that burns at a
distance of 7 braccie, works in barely an Ave Maria, whereas for
the one that burns at 15 or 16 braccie, which works more slowly, you
have to wait for a whole Miserere”. One can imagine the groups of
Jesuits as they recite the rosary and sing hymns while incinerating objects
with burning glasses, causing terrifying explosions or witnessing Jean Royer’s
superhuman feats of projection.[47]
The catoptric cat
Robert Darnton has remarked
that the torture of cats was a source of constant amusement in early modern
Europe, and that the historical investigation of arcane forms of humour has
much to offer our understanding of major historical transformations. His famous
study of the “great cat massacre” carried out by a group of Parisian printer’s
apprentices allowed him to investigate the social tensions that formed the
historical prologue to the French Revolution.[48]
More recently, Thomas Hankins and Robert Silverman have used Darnton’s insights
in an original study of some of the more ludic machines and instruments
produced by Kircher and others, in particular the sunflower clock (fig. 12) that Kircher displayed to Nicholas Claude Fabri
de Peiresc in Aix, and the “cat piano”, a grisly musical instrument, said to
have been invented by Kircher, that worked by prodding the tails of cats with
spikes driven by a keyboard.[49]
Whereas for Darnton’s Parisian apprentices, the torture of cats was a humorous
means for an abused community of labourers to score a symbolic victory over
their wealthy bosses, for Kircher and his princely clients the manipulation of
animals and automata was arguably a symbolic means of reinforcing the political
and philosophical status quo. Schott recounts that one of the most
“artificious and delightful” machines in Kircher’s museum was a catoptric
chest, presumably identical with the “catoptric theatre” described by De Sepibus
(fig. 13). Two other catoptric chests existed in Rome,
according to Schott, one in the Villa Borghese and the other in the “villa of
some other Prince”, and both exhibited wonderful spectres of objects – forests
of pine trees, cities, elegantly furnished houses, treasures of gold and silver
vases and pearls and infinite libraries of books, that seem so real that even
those who were knowledgeable in catoptrics were sometimes fooled, and less
intelligent people frequently held out their hands and attempted to take hold
of the “species of things”, to the great amusement of spectators. Kircher’s
catoptric chest, however, far surpassed the competition, both in multiplying
species and in displaying illusory scenes. It could display infinite
colonnades, tables covered with all sorts of delicacies, inexhaustable
treasures, to the great torment of avaricious visitors who often, according to
Schott, attempted to make off with the infinite quantities of money contained
in the chest, only to be left with a handful of air. “You will exhibit the most
delightful trick”, Schott informs us, “if you impose one of these appearances
on a live cat, as Fr. Kircher has done. While the cat sees himself to be
surrounded by an innumerable multitude of catoptric cats, some of them standing
close to him and others spread very far away from him, it can hardly be said
how many capers will be exhibited in that theatre, while he sometimes tries to follow the other cats, sometimes to
entice them with his tail, sometimes attempts a kiss, and indeed tries to break
through the obstacles in every way with his claws so that he can be united with
the other cats, until finally, with various noises, and miserable whines he
declares his various affectations of indignation, rage, jealousy, love and
desire. Similar spectacles can be exhibited with other animals”.[50]
The catoptric chest, then, is an instrument for the manipulation and revelation
of the passions. It is a theatre of social distinction, using visual illusion
for the detection and display of baser human traits such as avarice and the
instinctual passions of animals. An understanding of the magical art of
catoptrics can allow one to trick people (and cats) into revealing their hidden
natures. Kircher’s emotionally confused catoptric cat is thus very different
from the pampered aristocratic cats slaughtered by the Parisian artisans
described by Darnton. By making a spectacle out of incivility or popular
superstition, devices such as the catoptric theatre, the Delphic oracle and the
various vomiting-machines shown to visitors to Kircher’s museum contributed to
a particular definition of early modern European civility.[51]
Many of Athanasius Kircher’s machines were thus civilizing machines. Descartes’
Treatise on the Passions of the Soul, published in 1649, attempted to
provide a manual to instruct his readers both to combat the effects of the
passions on the soul and to dissimulate their outward manifestations.[52]
The vogue for automata and machine-models of the human body in the seventeenth
century was closely connected to the desire to exercise control over the body
through discipline and manners. The Jesuit educational system, experienced by
Descartes as a schoolboy at La Flèche, laid great emphasis on bodily
comportment and behavioural discipline, epitomized by the choreographed
movements of Jesuit ballet. The limits of the man-machine metaphor
exercised a powerful fascination over Kircher’s contemporaries. While Marin
Mersenne (1588-1648) theorized about mechanised musical ensembles, and instruments
such as the “Archiviole”, allowing a single player to play multiple
musical instruments simultaneously, and shortly after Justus Lipsius
(1547-1606) had theorized about the well-disciplined army as a war-machine,
Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) opened his Leviathan,
published in the very year that the Musaeum Kircherianum was officially
founded, with the famous metaphor of the commonwealth as a giant automaton,
manipulated by a single monarch.[53]
Peter Dear has recently evoked the close links between the mastery of the
passions, the rise of European absolutism and the culture of automata in early
modern Europe.[54]
We have frequently been led
to discuss the wonders produced by Kircher and Schott in magical terms. But
just what was the magic practiced by Kircher, that he took such pains to
distinguish from the illicit arts that invoked the aid of demons? What were its
boundaries? How did it intersect with natural philosophy, and with the
mathematical arts? How did it find a home in the bosom of the Jesuit order and,
especially, in Kircher’s Museum?
Kircherian magic: The
roots of a paradigm
Kircherian machines, we have
suggested, like Jesuit rhetorical devices, emblems and learned orations, helped
to draw a boundary between elite and vulgar. To mount an attack on the causal
knowledge at the core of the Kircherian culture of machines on physical grounds
was comparable to challenging the authenticity of the Corpus Hermeticum
and the traces of the prisca sapientia contained in Egyptian
hieroglyphics on philological grounds. Both challenges threatened the mystical
core of a structure of political power in which the Jesuit order constituted
the cement linking the Counter-Reformation Papacy to the Habsburg court in
Vienna through a sophisticated network of intermediaries. The intellectual
project of Kircher’s Oedipus Aegyptiacus, supported by Ferdinand III,
cannot be separated from Kircher’s artificial magic.[55]
Kircher’s marvellous machines took their place alongside his wooden
reconstructions of Egyptian obelisks in the Musaeum Kircherianum. A
letter from Schott inserted into the first volume of Kircher’s Oedipus
Aegyptiacus gives us a revealing picture of the mutual legitimation that
characterised Kircher’s close relationship with his Habsburg-linked clients:
In
Kircher’s archive, I discovered an enormous number of letters, many of which
were sent by him at every moment by Princes of the Christian world, and the
supreme heads of the Roman Empire, and the Most Wise Emperor FERDINAND III, the
Most Serene and Most Wise Queen of Sweden Christina, many Most Eminent
Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, Most Serene Electors of the Holy Roman
Empire, Most Distinguished and Illustrious Dukes, Princes, Counts, Barons and
innumerable Nobles of the same Empire and other Nations, all of whom admire and
praise Kircher’s learning, and thank him for the books he sent them and for his
other enormous productions, they urge and solicit him to print other monuments
to erudition, they offer him help and protection, they communicate secrets, and
ask for arcana, and for the unravelling of arcane matters, they seek the
interpretation of exotic languages, strange inscriptions, and unknown
characters, and various questions. I would have appended here various long
letters from Emperors, other Princes and almost all the learned Men of this
century, showing singular affection and respect if the small space and the
Author’s modesty had permitted and if I had not reserved that for a different
time and place[56]
While Kircher provided
princes, young and old, with enigmas, puzzles, emblems and arcane knowledge
that confirmed their social distinction, they provided him with financial
support and conferred authority on his works. Elsewhere Schott tells us of a
revealing dream that Kircher had in the Collegio Romano while suffering
from a serious bout of illness. After requesting a strong sleeping-mixture of
his own specification from the college pharmacy, Kircher fell into a deep
sleep, and dreamt that he had been elected to the Papal throne and was overcome
with joy. He received legations and congratulatory messages from all the
Christian princes, applause from all peoples, and, in his dream-role as Pope,
built colleges and churches in Rome for the different nations of the world, and
established “many other things for the propagation of the Catholic faith”.
Schott is particularly interested in the healing capacities of Kircher’s dream
– the older Jesuit pronounced himself to be restored to full health the
following morning. However, without too much imagination, his dream might also
be seen as hinting at more than a modicum of personal ambition on Kircher’s
part. Although some of Kircher’s other nocturnal visions were later transformed
into reality, most dramatically a graphic vision of the imment destruction of the
Jesuit college in Würzburg by the Swedish armies of Gustavus Adolphus in 1631,
his narcotically-induced dream of the papal tiara was never to be realized,
although one is tempted to wonder what directives he might have issued in this
role.[57] Despite the fact that Kircher was never
elected Pope, he was arguably the ruler of his own invented polity. The Oedipus
Aegyptiacus contains no less than thirty-one separate letters of dedication
for its different sections and provides us with a suggestive map of Kircher’s
political universe. Prominent dedicatees include: the holy Roman Emperor
Ferdinand III, Pope Alexander VII, Ferdinand IV King of the Romans, the Grand
Duke of Tuscany Ferdinand II de’ Medici, Johann Philipp von Schönborn, Elector
of Mainz; Archdukes Leopold Wilhelm and Bernhard Ignaz of Austria, Johann
Friedrich Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg, and a host of other princes, cardinals,
counsellors and confessors of the Holy Roman Empire.
Kircher’s Oedipus
Aegyptiacus provides an ancient pedigree of magic that justified its
revival amongst his distinguished dedicatees and their peers, a pedigree echoed
in Gaspar Schott’s Magia Universalis.
In its broad lines,
legitimate magic was first given by God to Adam, along with the other forms of
knowledge. However, true magic was corrupted, through the “Cainite evil”,
leading to the division between “licit” and “illicit” magic. The architect of
the corruption of magic was, as Pliny recounts, Zoroaster. But which Zoroaster?
A number of different Zoroasters appear in the history books. On this subject,
many learned authors were in disagreement, but Kircher and Schott, aided by a
manuscript of the apocryphal Book of Enoch studied by Kircher in the Greek
library of Messina, are in agreement that Zoroaster is identifiable with Noah’s
rebellious son Cham, who learned this art from the impious Cainites before the
Flood and inscribed it on stones and columns so that it would not be destroyed
in the deluge, transmitting it to his followers once the waters had abated.
These columns were the very columns described by St. Augustine, when he wrote
in the City of God that Cham, Noah’s son, erected fourteen columns
bearing the canons of the arts and the sciences, seven made of brass and seven
of bricks. After propagating his magic in Egypt, where he had settled after the
flood and the linguistic confusion of the Tower of Babel, Cham left his kingdom
to his son Misraim, and departed to spread the astrological and magical arts to
Chaldea, Persia, Medea and Assyria, eventually obtaining the name “Zoroaster”,
meaning “living star” as he appeared to be consumed with celestial fire in his
zeal to spread magical knowledge.[58]
What is magic? Schott tells
us that magic is whatever is “marvellous and goes beyond the sense and
comprehension of common men”. Common men because to “wise people or those who
are more learned than the common people the causes of magical effects are
normally apparent”. Natural magic, according to Schott, is “a recondite
knowledge of the secrets of nature, that applies things to things, or, to speak
philosophically, actives to passives, in the correct time, place and manner, by
the nature, properties, occult powers, sympathies and antipathies of individual
things, bringing about some marvels in this way that appear magical or
miraculous to those who are ignorant of the causes”. An example of natural
magic is asbestos that resists combustion in flames, as Kircher had
demonstrated very frequently in Rome. Other examples of natural magic include
the magnetic marvels described by Gilbert, Cabeo and Kircher, and the effects
of music on the venom of the tarantula, also described by Kircher. However, one
must beware, as not all magic said to be natural is truly so, the sunflower’s
supposed capacity to make men invisible being an example of something that
couldn’t possibly happen naturally. Schott’s encyclopedia of natural and
artificial magic comprises four parts: Optics (“that is those things regarding
sight and objects that are seen, and whatever in Optics, Catoptrics, Dioptrics,
Parastatics, Chromatics, Catoptro-Dioptro-Caustics, Catoptrologics, and other
similar sciences, arts, practices and secrets is rare, portentous and beyond
the understanding of the common people, when they perceive rays directly,
relected or refracted at the eye”), Acoustics (“that is, whatever pertains to
hearing, and the object heard, and it will explain all of hearing, sound, the
human voice, harmony, the Oeconomy of music, by analogy to the oeconomy of
sight and vision, colours, lights, and their appearances, but only the rarer,
less obvious ones that fall under praxis and operation”), Mathematics (“that is
Arithmetic, Geometry, Astronomy, Statics, Hydraulics, Pneumatics, Pyrobolics,
Gnomonics, Steganography, Cryptology, Hydrography, Nautical matters, and many
other things, but only the rarer and more amusing and wonderful matters, and
most of the practical things that come under human industry”) and Physics (“
whatever is wonderful, paradoxical or portentous in Nature. Of this kind are
magnetism, sympathy, physiognomy, metallurgy, botany, stichiotics, medicine,
meteorology, the secrets of animals, stones and innumerable other things”).[59]
Natural magic has two
branches in Schott’s system: operative and divinatory. The latter include such
arts as physiognomy, allowing a person’s character to be determined by
examining their features, colour and voice. Divinatory natural magic, however,
cannot be used to find supernatural gifts or sins, as these don’t depend on
nature but on free human will.
Artificial magic, or operative natural magic, is, in Schott’s definition
“an art or a faculty of producing some wonder through human industry, by
applying various instruments”. Schott’s
examples of this art, culled from an assortment of classical sources, include the glass sphere of Archimedes
described by Cicero, which depicted the motions of the different planets (fig. 14), the flying wooden dove of Archytas, the small
golden birds singing to the Byzantine emperor Leo, and the flying and singing
birds and hissing serpents of Boethius. More recent pieces of artificial magic
included the eagle of Regiomontanus that reportedly flew to meet Charles V when
he was arriving in Nuremberg, and accompanied him to the gates of the city, and
an iron fly also made by Regiomontanus that flew out of the hands of its
artisan, and flew around the assembled guests, and a statue in the shape of a
wolf that walked around and played a drum, that Schott had heard about from an
eyewitness. The talking head reportedly made out of brass by Albertus Magnus
was a further example of artificial magic for Schott. Whereas some claimed that
this was a mere fable, and others suggested that it was the work of the devil,
Schott disagreed, arguing that it was made by human industry alone. Kircher
himself, Schott had just heard in a letter sent from Rome, was in the process
of making just such a speaking statue for the visit of Queen Christina of
Sweden to the Musaeum Kircherianum, “a statue that will have to answer
the questions that it is asked”. The Delphic Oracle, then, places Kircher’s
magical productions in a highly respectable historical series of artificial
wonders, and rids Albertus Magnus of the suspicion of sorcery that allegedly
led Thomas Aquinas to destroy his talking statue of Memnon.[60]
The machines in Kircher’s
museum occupy a central place in Schott’s exhaustive account of the licit
magical arts. But what exactly were the boundaries of these arts? Where is the
point of transgression? Schott’s answer is simple: illicit magic involves pacts
with demons rather than the mere application of human industry and artifice to
natural causes. Following the principal Jesuit authorities on the matter, the
humanist Martin del Rio (1551-1608) and the philosopher Benito Pereira
(1535-1610), Schott insists that demons are restricted to the manipulation of
natural causes. Only God can effect
miracles that go against the natural order. Demons are, effectively, just very
good artificial magicians, manipulating natural causes with greater dexterity
than even the most adroit instrumentally-enhanced human being.[61]
But what exactly is the order
of nature that even demons cannot pervert? Schott’s answer is unequivocal:
demons are bound to obey the laws of Aristotelian natural philosophy! “They
cannot create anything, as this exceeds the power of acting naturally. Neither
can they derive a substantial form immediately from a subject, without a prior
alteration, because this cannot be done naturally”. Demons cannot even create a
vacuum, “as Nature abhors this and no experiment carried out until now proves
that a vacuum has been made, as we have said in the Mechanica
Hydraulico-Pneumatica”. If demons could not make a vacuum, what chance did
Evangelista Torricelli, Valeriano Magni or Otto von Guericke stand of doing so?
Schott’s account of the absolute limits of artificial magic reveals its
staunchly Aristotelian core. The artificial magic practiced and described by
Schott and Kircher relied on an unchanging body of assumptions about the normal
behaviour of the natural world. Schott’s Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica had opened with a list of the four
fundamental principles underlying all hydraulic machines: the “attractive power
to avoid a vacuum”, the “power of expulsion, avoiding the penetration of
bodies”, the rarefactive power (i.e. the “expulsion or attraction of water by
rarefaction and condensation”) and the weight of the water seeking equilibrium.
The purpose of Schott’s work is not to investigate the truth of these
principles, which have the status of axioms. Instead, his aim is to catalogue
the surprising effects that can be obtained by combining these causes in
different ways.[62]
In discussing Otto von
Guericke’s experimental demonstration of the existence of a vacuum using his antlia
pneumatica, Schott remarks casually that of course, the plenitude of nature
is invulnerable even to an angel, and thus Guericke’s device could never have
produced a real vacuum. A refusal to allow the instrument to produce new
natural philosophy did not put an end to Jesuit discussions of hydraulics.
Instead, the device was removed from circulation in the philosophical domain
and relocated within the context of the Wunderkammer. Schott's Mechanica-Hydraulico
Pneumatica includes the experiments performed by Evangelista Torricelli and
Gasparo Berti to demonstrate the existence of the vacuum in a section entitled De
machinis hydraulicis variis, where they are surrounded by a ball made to
spin in the air, a perforated flask for carrying wine known as the "Sieve
of the Vestal Virgin ", and a "phial for cooling tobacco smoke".
Unhealthy philosophical readings of Machina VI (the Torricelli and Berti
tubes) are dismissed by Schott as the writings of "Neotherici
Philosophastri" and "insolent and unmannerly braggarts
proclaiming a triumph before victory".[63] To situate the Torricellian experiment in
the context of trick fountains and water-vomiting seats was to insulate it from
the Aristotelian philosophy taught in the classrooms of Jesuit colleges. In a
strong sense, then, the Aristotelian physics at the basis of the artificial
magic of Kircher and Schott was invulnerable, except to occasional Divine
intervention. Machines combined a pre-established set of causes to produce
surprising effects, leaving the spectators to attempt to decipher the
combination of natural causes underlying the appearances.
Schott’s accounts of natural
and demonic magic drew heavily on the comprehensive treatment of magic composed
by the Antwerp-born Jesuit Martin del Rio, the Disquisitionum Magicarum
Libri Sex, first published in 1599. Del Rio was a scholarly prodigy before
he joined the Jesuit order. At the tender age of twenty he published a work on
the Latin grammarian Gaius Solinus, later attacked by Claude Saumaise. Shortly
afterwards, he published a work on Claudius Claudianus that cited more than
1,100 authors. Before he joined the Jesuit order he occupied the important
public offices of Senator of Brabant, Auditor of the army, Vice-chancellor and
Procurator General. Del Rio’s three-volume treatment of magic was an enormously
influential work, the influence of which was felt in witch-trials as much as in
the scholarly arena.[64]
Chapter IV of Del Rio’s work deals with artificial magic, which Del Rio divides
into “mathematical magic”, deploying the principles of geometry, arithmetic and
astronomy, and “prestidigitatory magic”, involving deliberate deception and
sleight-of-hand. The former includes all the the famous mechanical marvels that
Schott listed. Del Rio’s approach to magic is to build an impenetrable wall
between supernatural phenomena, which are the prerogative of God alone, and
artificial and preternatural phenomena, which can be produced by men, by demons
and by angels. Preternatural phenomena are those which appear to most people to
go beyond nature’s capacities, but are in fact achieved through the combination
of natural causes by human, demonic or angelic agents. The belong not to the
“Order of Grace”, the realm of true miracles brought about by divine
intervention in opposition the laws of nature, but to the Prodigious Order,
reserved for phenomena that resemble miracles, but are in fact carried out
through the manipulation of natural forces.[65]
Kircherian thaumaturgy, then, appears to transcend what can be achieved through
the human manipulation of natural powers, thus leading some to view them as
being produced by demonic means. Good angels do not collaborate in magical
works, according to Del Rio, so any magical feat that goes beyond human
capacities, such as the production of healing effects through incantations,
must be due to the “ministry of bad angels”, that is to say the companions of
Lucifer, as “no words have a natural power of healing wounds or illnesses, or
driving away other injuries”.[66]
Incantations employed by Catholic priests in sacraments and exorcisms did not
work naturally, but through the concurrence of divine grace, and thus belonged
to the Order of Grace, and are thus excluded from the natural order.
Kircher’s machines ludically
encouraged spectators to read them as wonders achieved through angelic or
demonic concurrence. Many of the machines described in De Sepibus’ list even
contained small genies, angels and demons, moved by occult forces to point at
letters, scales and inscriptions, a miniature automated population that positively
cried out to be interpreted as preternatural, and belonging to Del Rio’s
prodigious order. While Descartes hypothesised
a single evil genie to demolish the basis of scholastic metaphysics in
the first of his Méditations Metaphysiques, Kircher and Schott employed
an obedient army of them to uphold the core of Aristotelian physics (see figs. 8, 15, 16, 17).
Benito Pereira, Schott’s
other chief authority on magical matters, was one of the most influential
philosophers of the Jesuit order in the late sixteenth century, despite coming
under suspicion of heterodoxy for his sympathy for the philosophy of Averröes.[67]
Pereira’s textbook on natural philosophy, De Communibus omnium rerum
naturalium principijs & affectionibus, went through a great number of
editions, and was widely used for teaching in Jesuit colleges. His widely read
work on magic and divination, the Adversus fallaces & superstitiosas
artes, id est, De magia, de observatione somniorum, et de divinatione
astrologica, argued that demons could not pervert the natural order of the
Aristotelian elements or create a vacuum, and this may have been the source for
Schott’s similar assertions. Pereira insists that men skilled in knowledge of
nature can work great wonders by natural magic, but those who are either wicked
or ignorant may only learn this art from demons, “for scarcely any mortal or
certainly very few indeed, and those men of the keenest mind who have employed
diligent observation for a long time, can attain to such natural magic”.[68]
Kircher clearly considered
himself to be one of the latter, and offers us his own working definition of
natural magic in his Magnes, a definition that is pretty close to those
provided by Del Rio, Pereira and Schott:
Here I call natural magic that which produces unusual
and prodigious effects through natural causes alone, excluding any commerce,
implicit or explicit, with the Enemy of humankind. Of this kind are those
machines that are called for this reason “thaumatourgikai”, that sometimes
transmit prodigious movements to an effigy from air and water contained in
siphons by a subtle art, and sometimes blow spirits into an organ arranged in a
certain way to make statues burst forth in speech, and similar things, that can
seem like miracles to people who are ignorant of their causes.[69]
Kircherian machines thus
walked a tightrope between the demonic and the miraculous. To understand how
the magical aspects of Kircher’s machines were experienced by contemporaries,
it may be helpful to look at how Kircher’s Musaeum was visited.
Visiting the machines
The frontispiece of the
fourth volume of the first edition of Kaspar Schott’s Magia Universalis
depicts a crowned man pointing a magic wand at a flowerbed, making a clear
visual link between social status and the practice of natural magic. The
opening of Schott’s work provides a justification of magic that places
Kircher’s machines directly in the context of aristocratic visits to the Jesuit
Collegio Romano:
In
my various long journeys through Germany, France, Italy and Sicily, and in my
frequent occupation teaching mathematics both in public and in private, I have
always found that almost everybody, especially Nobles and Princes, not only
youths, but also men conspicuous for their learning, prudence, worldly experience
and dignity displayed a propensity towards those disciplines that promise and
set forward things that are marvellous, curious, hidden and beyond the
comprehension of the common people. I
hardly ever saw anyone, who, when he had achieved a little mastery of these
matters, or had examined devices constructed from their prescription, was not
thereby incited to continual study and did not surrender himself entirely to
this discipline, or wish to do so if other occupations had permitted. Witnesses
to this, to omit other examples, are the whole of Rome, and the most celebrated
Roman College and Athenaeum of our Society, the seat and residence of
Athanasius Kircher, a man of great fame in the whole world. For, every day the
inhabitants of both [city and college] look at and admire (as I myself beheld
with amazement and delight of my soul when I was [Kircher’s] assistant in
literary matters for a few years) those works that many people hasten at every
moment to behold, excited by the fame of his learning and the desire of seeing
the things that he displays in his famous Museum. These works, constructed from
the recondite arts and sciences, are truly deserving of wonder. The visitors
are drawn from the most illustrious ranks, in doctrine and dignity, including Royalty
and Cardinals, foreigners as often as natives. How many of them are instructed
privately by him, even if occupied by other most grave matters, particularly
the sons of Princes, recommended by very polite letters, with profit flowing
into their whole nations and even into the whole Roman Church as a result![70]
Here Schott suggests that
Kircher’s museum in Rome functioned as a powerful magnet for a Catholic elite,
attracting princely visitors to the Collegio Romano, and encouraging them
to send their sons to be privately educated in arcane matters by Kircher.
Kircher’s aristocratic apprentices in magic would then return to their
countries of origin, having acquired a taste for curiosity, and this would
bring clear benefits both for their countries and for the Catholic church as a
whole. Schott’s description of the social function of the museum is consonant
with the apostolic goals of the Jesuit educational system, as developed since
the mid-sixteenth century. Ignatius Loyola’s Majorcan assistant Jerónimo Nadal
(1507-1580), famously remarked that “for us lessons and scholarly exercises are
a sort of hook with which we fish for souls”.[71]
In 1594 Christoph Clavius had argued that excellence in the mathematical
disciplines would aid the Jesuits to gain precious ground on the Protestant
pedagogues that were enticing aristocrats away from the Catholic church,
writing that
[T]here
is no one who does not perceive how much it is central to every objective of
the Society to have some men who are most outstandingly erudite in these minor
studies of mathematics, rhetoric, and language [...] who would spread the
eminent reputation of the Society far and wide, unite the love of noble youths,
curb the bragging of the heretics in these arts, and institute a tradition of
excellence in all those disciplines in the Society.[72]
The creation of a private
mathematical academy, along with similar academies for rhetoric, Greek and
Hebrew, would, Clavius argued, create Jesuit experts in all of these
disciplines, who, “when they are distributed in various nations and kingdoms
like sparkling gems [...] will be a
source of great fear to all enemies, and an incredible incitment to make young
people flock to us from all the parts of the world, to the great honour of the
Society”.[73] We have
argued above that Kircher inherited Clavius’s musaeum mathematicum.
Schott’s description of the function of Kircher’s museum as a magnet for a
curious princely elite suggests that it had much in common with Clavius’s
prophetic vision of the Jesuit educational apostolate.
What was it like to visit
Kircher’s artificial wonders? How did different visitors experience their
magic? Arguably the most famous visit to the Musaeum Kircherianum was
that made by the convert Queen Christina of Sweden. On 11 November 1651,
Athanasius Kircher wrote a letter to Queen Christina in Stockholm:
Your
Majesty will know that our Society not only holds you in intimate affection, as
is fitting, but also esteems and admires above all other things those rare and
sublime treasures bestowed by heaven that divine bounty has hoarded up in your
breast. This is especially true of this Roman College of our Society, both of
the famous men and writers and of the novices, who have come from all of the
nations of the world, where we speak 35 different languages, some native to
Europe, Africa and Asia, the remainder to the Indies and America. And all of
them are excited by the fame of your majesty's wisdom, and attracted by some
unknown sympathetic magnetism, and their only ambition is to paint the
extraordinary example of all virtues that your Majesty exhibits to the world in
all the colours that it deserves.[74]
Queen
Christina's tour of the Collegio Romano in 1656 was the culmination of a
lengthy process of rapprochement between the Queen and the Jesuit order which
had begun in February 1652 when two Italian gentleman travellers, going by the
names of Don Bonifacio Ponginibio and Don Lucio Bonanni, had arrived in the
Royal court in Stockholm.[75]
The two gentlemen, as Christina quickly divined, were in reality Jesuits,
carefully disguised by long hair and beards. Paolo Casati and Francesco
Malines, both highly trained in mathematics and theology, had set off from
Venice on 8th December on their important mission to convert "Don Teofilo",
as Goswin Nickel, the Vicar General of the order, had instructed them to call
Christina in their letters. Christina had specially asked the General for
mathematically skilled Jesuits, and spent as much time with her visitors
discussing Galileo's Dialogo, atomism, and the latest books by Bartoli
and Kircher[76] as the
matters of faith that were the ostensible reason for the meeting. She received
a copy of Bartoli's Dell'huomo di lettere[77]
from her Italian visitors, and probably availed of their services to send a
letter to Kircher in Rome in which she expressed a desire to have a chance to
talk to the famous polymath more freely in the future.[78]
Curiosity
played a central role in Christina's abdication and relocation in Rome. The
image of Rome which the Jesuit missionary mathematicians nurtured in the
Queen's mind was one of a city in which the secrets of the natural world could
be investigated under conditions of utter intellectual freedom, in stark
contrast to the ascetic Lutheranism that reigned in Stockholm. Paradoxically,
the very book that Kircher was to dedicate to Christina, the Iter Exstaticum,
ran into serious difficulties on account of the atomist matter-theory which it
sanctioned and which Christina also favoured.[79]
The receptions of the Queen in the Collegio Romano were intended to
further the image of the Jesuits’ showpiece college as the home of cultivated
Catholic curiosity.
On
18th January 1656, Queen Christina made
her first visit to the Collegio Romano.[80]
20 Swiss guards were placed at the door, preventing anyone from entering the
building except the pupils of the lower classes, who were all meant to await
the Queen in their classrooms. When the Queen arrived, the bells rang twice,
and all of the Fathers, wearing cloaks, lined up inside the main door to
receive her. The Queen entered the college with her entourage and the door was
closed. In each class that the queen visited a pupil came forward to recite an
epigram, and then presented her with a piece of printed satin brocaded with
golden lace. When she had finished visiting the classes, she returned to the
entrance, and went to visit the Church, where she prayed to Saint Ignatius and
at the altar of Blessed Aloysius Gonzaga, while musicians sang some motets.
As
she had been unable to see everything during this first visit, Christina
returned to the college on 30th January. She entered by the side door, where
she was received by the General, the Roman Provincial, the Rector of the
College and other members of the order. Her subsequent perambulations are
described in detail in Galeazzo Gualdo Priorato's biography of the queen, and
we cite from the 1658 English translation:
She
quickly went into the Library [...] Here her Majesty entertaining her self for
some time, in viewing the many volumes, took pleasure too in looking on the
Modell and Platforme of the City of Jerusalem, which was left by Father
Villalpando, with the description of the streets, and holy places, consecrated
by the journeys and passions of our Lord Jesus Christ. She then, going about
the other sides, discovered some Greek and Latin Manuscripts lying open on a
Table, and could judge of the Authors, shewing very great learning.
She
went thence into the gallery, that was near, where Father Athanasius Kircherus
the great Mathematician had prepared many curious and remarkable things, as
well in nature, as art, which were in so great a number, that her Majesty said,
more time was required, and less company to consider them with due attention.
However she stayed some time to consider the herb called Phoenix, which
resembling the Phoenix grew up in the waters perpetually out of its own ashes.
She saw the fountains and clocks, which, by vertue of the load-stone turn about
with secret force. Then passing through the Hall, where she looked on some
Pictures well done, she went through the walkes and the garden, into the
Apothecaries shop, where she saw the preparation of the ingredients of herbs,
plants, metalls, gemms, and other rare things, for the making of Treacle [i.e.
Theriac] and balsome of life. She saw them distill with the fire of the same
furnace sixty five sorts of herbs in as many distinct limbecks. She saw the
philosophical calcination of ivorie, and the like. She saw extracted the
spirits of Vitriol, Salt, and Aqua fortis, as likewise a jarre of pure water,
which with two single drops of the quintessence of milke, was turned into true
milk, the only medicine for the shortness of the breath, and affections of the
breast. In fine being presented with Treacle [i.e. Theriac] and pretious oyles,
she went into the sacristy, where they opened all the presses, where they keep
the Plate and reliques of the Church, with the great candlesticks, and vases
given them by the deceased Cardinall Lodowick Lodowiso the founder of the
Church. She honoured particularly the blood of St. Esuperantia a Virgin and
Martyr, which, after a thousand and three hundred years, is as liquid as if
newly shed. Then going into the Church she heard Mass, and at her departure,
gave testimonies to the Fathers of her great satisfaction and content.[81]
The
accounts of Christina's visits to the Collegio Romano resonate with the
image of the College as both a theatrum mundi and repository of universal
knowledge suggested in Kircher's letters to the Queen before her departure for
Rome. Although Christina's case is conspicuous for its dramatic charge, the
pattern is far from unique, and there are innumerable other examples of
monarchs and aristocrats, Catholic and Protestant, being enticed into
metropolitan Jesuit colleges throughout Europe rather as Chinese literati
were initially enticed into Matteo Ricci's house, by the promise of arcane
knowledge, curiosities, maps and mathematical instruments.[82] A manuscript chronicle of the Collegio
Romano describes a large number of such ceremonial visits.[83]
The
transformation of the Collegio Romano into a theatre of curiosity had numerous precedents throughout the
century. During the festivities to mark the canonization of Saints Ignatius and
Francis Xavier in 1622, the College was transformed into ancient Rome, to echo
the solemn ecclesiastical rites with "erudite allusion and ancient
Apotheosis".[84]
The Atrium and entrances of the Collegio were decorated to represent the
Roman forum, while the Aula Magna became the Campus Martius, scene of the
apotheoses of the Roman Emperors. Two large globes, at the main entrance,
represented the old and new worlds, divided into thirty-four Jesuit provinces,
with their colleges and houses marked on tesserae. Plays representing
important events in the lives of Xavier and Ignatius were staged by the
Parthenian academicians of the College and the members of the Roman seminary.
The mathematics professor Orazio Grassi (1583-1654) staged an opera in the
transformed Aula Magna for the occasion, the Apotheosis of Saints
Ignatius and Xavier, set to music by Kapsberger, with elaborate
stage-machinery.[85] Grassi also
provided geographical demonstrations (ragioni Geografiche) that St. Francis
Xavier was responsible for a larger amount of territory than any apostolic
preacher, much as he had provided public mathematical demonstrations for the
supra-lunary location of the comets of 1618.[86]
By
the time of Christina's visit in 1656, as Gualdo Priorato's account reveals,
the College could boast two further sites of courtly display: the College
pharmacy and the Musaeum Kircherianum. Building of the college pharmacy
commenced on 5 July 1627, shortly after the commencement of work on Orazio Grassi's
church of St. Ignatius[87],
but the existence of Spetiali is evident from the Catalogues of the
College back to 1598 and beyond.[88]
In 1609 the category becomes "Aromatarius"[89],
before the title of pharmocopolae was bestowed upon Francesco Vagioli
and Francesco Savelli in the Catalogi of 1624-5.[90]
The walls of the pharmacy were decorated with a series of (surviving) frescoed
lunettes by Andrea Sarti and Emilio Savonanzi in 1629, depicting Galen,
Hippocrates, Mesue, Andromachus and other authorities in medicine, botany and
pharmacy. A painted panel at the centre of the ceiling depicted the patron
saints of medicine, Cosmas and Damien, in the company of Saints Francis Xavier
and Ignatius and the Madonna and child, a grouping lent legitimacy by the
coincidence that the bull of foundation of the Jesuit order (27 September 1540)
fell on the feast day of the medical saints.[91]
A manuscript ground-floor plan of the Collegio[92]
apparently dating from the mid-seventeenth century depicts the pharmacy as
occupying at least five rooms. As well as producing the balsam of life, theriac
and various other precious substances that could be distributed to potential
patrons of the order[93],
the numerous books of secrets that survive suggest that the pharmacy was used
for alchemical operations as well as the production of candle-wax and even
substances for combatting "carnosità", or carnality, clearly a
dangerous enemy to Jesuit collegiate life[94]
. As a site of display, the pharmacy played a part in a visit made by Urban
VIII to the Collegio Romano as early as 1631.[95]
The enormous spagyrical furnace shown to Christina was depicted
graphically in Kircher's Mundus
Subterraneus,[96] where it bolstered Kircher's attack on
alchemical charlatans. On Vincenzo
Carafa's first visit to the college after his election to the position of
Father General of the Jesuit Order in 1646 he was shown a large parchment
bearing the recipes of the theriac and other medicines produced in the Jesuit
pharmacy.[97] On the same
visit, Carafa was brought to Kircher’s “private museum”, where he was shown the
“universal horoscope of the Society of Jesus” (fig. 3)
that we have described above. In its original form this device was cruciform in
shape.[98]
A less famous, but perhaps
more observant visitor to Kircher’s museum was the English traveller Philip
Skippon.[99] Skippon,
travelling in the company of the botanists John Ray, Francis Willughby and
Nathaniel Bacon as well as two servants, visited Kircher’s museum in 1664. He
gives the following very detailed description of his visit:
We visited father Kircher, a German Jesuit, at the Collegium
Romanum (which is a very large and stately building belonging to the
Jesuits). He shewed us his gallery, where we saw all his works, some of which
are not yet printed; he hath translated an Arabick book into Latin; wherein the
virtues of plants are discoursed. He said Johnston, the printer at Amsterdam,
offered him 2000 for all his writings. His Roman medals were fixed within a
wire grate on a turning case of shelves. This pope's picture seen in a glass
that reflects it from the plaits or folds of another picture. An organ that
counterfeits the chirping of birds, and at the same time a ball is kept up by a
stream of ait. The picture of the king of China. A picture of father Adam
Schall, a German Jesuit, who is now in great favour with the king of China,
being his chief counsellor; on his breast he wears the mark of his honour,
which is a white bird, having a long bill, and red on the crown of its head.
The picture of Deva Rex Davan Navas. The picture of Michael Rex Nepal. The rib
and the tail (flat and broad) of a Syrene, which Kircher said he saw at Malta.
A cross made of 300 small pieces of wood set together without glew, nails
&c. Painting of Raphael Urbin on earthen dishes. A microscope discovering
fine white sand to be pellucid, and of an elliptical figure; and red sand
pellucid and of a globular figure. A China shoe. Two Japan razors. A Japan
sword, wherewith some Jesuits had been martyr'd. A China sword, or rather a
mace. Corvus Indicus, a red bird. China birdsnests like white Gum. Canada money
made of little pieces of bones, and a medal of the same, which faintly
represented the figure of a man. Medals of the hieroglyphical obelisks in Rome.
A cabinet door that first opened upon hinges on one side, and then upon hinges
on the other. A flat and broad hoop that moved to and fro, on a declining
plane, without running off; within it having a weight at A.. Water put into the
glass BC, and by clapping one's hand at B, without touching the water, forces
the water out a good heighth out at C.
A perpetual motion attempted by this engine. D is a
cistern with water, which runs down the channel E, and turns the wheel from G
to F. At i the axis of this wheel is a handle that lifts up the sucker H, that
forces up the water out of the cistern K K into the pipe L into the upper
cistern D.
A sphere moved regularly by water that falls on the
aequinoctial line which is made like a water wheel. An image that spewed out of
its mouth four sorts of water, one after another. A serpent vomiting water, and
a bird drinking out of the same dish. The perpetual motion we saw at Milan. The
heat of a man's breath or hand, expelled water out of a glass, that afterwards
turned a wheel. A brass Clepsydra made after this manner. A and B are two
cisterns for water. When that in A is uppermost it falls down thro' thee four
tubuli, which are the supporters into the lower cistern B, and there it springs
up like a fountain, a pretty height for an hours's space; and so vice versa
when B is turned up.
A notable deceptio visus in the pyramidal spire C. D.
being turned one way it seemed to go up, and moved the other way it appeared as
if running downwards. These and many other inventions are described in Kircher
de Magnete.
Birds-nests, that are earen by the Indians, which
Wormius p. 311, calls Nidus Ichthyocollam referens.
The figure of a woman he called the oracle with a hole
in her breast, which applying one's ear to, words and sentences are plainly
understood, though whispered a good way off.
Flies and a lizard within amber. A paper lizard with a
needle stuck in it, ran up and down a wooden pillar, being moved by a
loadstone. The magnet moved several figures hanging within glass globes. One
figure was moved by the loadstone, thro' wood, glass, water and lead. A
cylindrical glass of water with a glass figure in it, which rises or falls as
you press the air at the top of the glass with your finger; the air being
pressed in the cylinder, presses that in the figure into a narrower room, and
so water comes in and weighs the figure down, which rises upon lessening the pressure at the top of the cylinder.
Avis Guaria, p. 308 Wormii, was seen here.[100]
Skippon’s meticulously
detailed description betrays little emotion – we are not told whether the English
naturalists were frightened by the Delphic oracle. Indeed, if anything Skippon
even suggests a certain tedium in the face of Kircherian wonders – “the
perpetual motion machine we saw at Milan”. His curt, “objective” style also has
much to do with the developing genre of the travel journal, however, and there
is ample evidence that English circles were utterly enthralled by Kircher’s
natural and artificial wonders, and were doomed to repeated frustration in
attempting to repeat Kircher’s experiments in Restoration England.
The vegetable
phoenix, admired by Queen Christina in Kircher's museum, immediately the object
of great interest amongst English natural philosophers, illustrates the
difficulty Kircherian wonders experienced in travelling beyond the walls of his
museum. In 1657 Henry Oldenburg planned a trip to Italy, hoping to bring back
to England news of Kircher's "vegetable phaenix's resurrection out of its
own dust by ye warmth of ye Sun", along with other
Kircherian secrets and "remarquable things, one might have the
satisfaction to be punctually informed about"[101]
Oldenburg never made the trip, and the next news about Kircher's phoenix had to
wait until Robert Southwell encountered an English traveller returning from
Italy. Southwell reported to Oldenburg "[H]e gives me some incouragement
yt when I come to Rome I shall be able fully to satisfy you concerning Kerchers
plant. he told me he was wth him and remembers to have seene in a glasse half
as bigg as his head (close luted) a plant glowne up ye length of his finger
with a kind of asshes at ye bottome but I found he had not beene Curious in the
observation of it".[102]
On
accomplishing his mission, Southwell brought disappointing news about the
phoenix: "As to the flower growing from its ashes, he had such a thing,
but it is now spoiled; he made it not himself, but it was given him".[103]
Southwell nonetheless acquired "the receipt thereof, upon a swop, wrote
with his own hand; it is long and intricate, and of a nice preparation".[104] We have no record of whether the Royal
Society suceeded in reproducing the vegetable phoenix[105],
but generally attempts to replicate Kircherian wonders in London and Oxford met
with little success. The trouble was not limited to England. John Bargrave
recounted in graphic terms the price of failure for a Nuremberg optician:
I bought this glass
of Myn Here Westleius, an eminent man for optics at Nurenburg, and it cost me 3
pistolls, which is about 50S English. This gentleman spoke bitterly to me
against Father Kercherius, a Jesuit at Rome (of my acquaintance), saying that
it had cost him above a thousand pounds to put his optic speculations in
practice, but he found his principles false, and showed me a great basket of
glasses of his failings.[106]
Kircher’s
net drew in too much, according to unsympathetic English commentators in the
1650s. Robert Payne's remarks on Kircher qua Jesuit in 1650, while
complaining about an experiment on roasted worms reported in the Ars Magna
Lucis et Umbrae emphasize precisely
this point:
The truth is, this
Jesuit, as generally the most of his order, have a great ambition to be
thoughte the greate and learned men of the world; and to that end writes greate
volumes, on all subjects, with gay pictures and diagrams to set them forth, for
ostentation And to fill up those volumes, they draw in all things, by head and
shoulders; and these too for the most part, stolen from other authors. So that
if that little, which is their owne, were separated from what is borrowed from
others, or impertinent to their present arguments, their swollen volumes would
shrink up to the size of our Almanacks. But enough of these Mountebankes.[107]
In similar vein, on sending
Descartes a copy of Kircher's Magnes, Constantijn Huygens had remarked
that the former would find in it "more grimaces than good material, as is
normal for the Jesuits. These scribblers, however, can be useful to you in
those things quae facti sunt, non juris".[108]
Sir Robert Moray (1608-1673),
later one of the prime movers in acquiring a charter from Charles II for the
foundation of the Royal Society and its first president[109],
entered into close correspondence with Kircher in 1644, after admiring the Magnes.[110]
While in the services of the French
army in Germany, Moray consumed Kircher's books avidly and discussed their
contents with Jesuits in Cologne and Ingolstadt.[111]
On his return to the royal court in Whitehall, he informed Kircher of the
foundation of the Royal Society, and continued to send scholars, such as the
mathematician James Gregory, the naturalist Francis Willughby and others to
seek Kircher's company in Rome.[112]
Moray was confident that Kircher's agglomeration of information could be
filtered, or threshed, to separate the wheat from the chaff:
Whatsoever Mr. Hugens
& others say of Kercher, I assure you I am one of those that think the
Commonwealth of learning is much beholding to him, though there wants not chaff
in his heap of stuff composted in his severall peaces, yet there is wheat to be
found almost every where in them. And though he doth not handle most things
fully, nor accurately, yet yt furnishes matter to others to do it. I reckon him
as usefull Quarries in philosophy and good literature. Curious workmen may
finish what hee but blocks and rough hewes. Hee meddles with too many things to
do any exquisitely, yet in some that I can name I know none goes beyond him, at
least as to grasping of variety: and even that is not onely often pleasure but
usefull.[113]
Moray
changed his tune in his following letter to the secretary of the Royal Society,
demonstrating the increasing fragility of Jesuit scientific credibility, and
linking the failure of an experiment involving the focusing of moonbeams on
substances with a powerful burning-glass to Kircher's membership of the Jesuit
order explicitly, writing that “hee does but lyke other birds of his feather”.[114]
Boyle wrote to Oldenburg in
1665 to complain about the problem:
I
suppose Sr. Rob. Murry has told you, that the Expt about Salt & Nitrous
water exposed to the Beames of the moone did not succeed as Kircher promises,
but as I foretold. And for the same Author's Expts with Quicksilver & sea
water seald up in a ring, though the want of fit glasses will, till the
commerce with London be free, keepe mee unable to try: yet besides it is at
most the same, but not soe probable as that wch he publishd in his Ars
Magnetica, 20 or 30 year ago. I cannot but think it unlikely that it will
succeed at least in our Climate, where by concentrating the Beames of the Moone
with a large Burning-glasse, I was not able to produce any sensible Alteration,
in Bodys that seeme very easily susceptible of them.[115]
Commenting
to Boyle on the unhappy results of attempts to repeat Kircher’s experiments,
Oldenburg wrote darkly that "'Tis an ill Omen, me thinks, yt ye very first
Experiment singled out by us out of Kircher, failes, and yt 'tis likely, the
next will doe so too".[116]
The replication of the
wonders displayed to visitors to Kircher’s museum and described in his
published works was difficult. Kircher’s performances and demonstrations were
apparently meant to be beheld, admired and believed, but not to be repeated
outside the preternatural realm of the museum of the Collegio Romano.
Miracle-machines
For Kircher, as for other
early modern natural magicians, art is nature’s ape. Or, to turn the metaphor on its head, nature is God’s work of
art, and thus the natural magician bears a relationship to his technical
productions that is analagous to the relationship God bears to the whole of
Creation.[117] Kircherian
machines can thus be compared to miniature, artificial universes, bearing
encrypted messages from a playful creator. The perpetual motion machines and
emblematic clocks displayed in Kircher’s museum display the microcosmic
character of Kircherian machines most evidently, sometimes even bearing
zodiacal and planetary symbols to make the analogy unmissable (e.g. fig. 14). The “user intervention” required by machines
such as Kircher’s sunflower clock (fig. 12), that so
frustrated Nicholas Claude Fabri de Peiresc when the instrument was
demonstrated to him in Aix-en-Provence in 1633 was not a failing in Kircher’s
instrument, but rather a rhetorical demonstration of the limits of the analogy
between the human magus and his omnipotent forbear.[118]
Other machines, as we have argued, were miniature moral universes, the
catoptric chest (fig. 13) being a striking example.
We have argued that
Kircherian machines were jokes that occupied a ludic space between the demonic and
the supernatural realms. What, then, are we to make of the following machine
listed by De Sepibus: “a large crystalline globe full of water representing the
resurrection of the Saviour in the midst of the waters”?[119]
How could Kircher dare to make a joke of the central mystery of Christianity?
How could he place the resurrected Christ in a glass sphere, alongside genies,
water-vomitting snakes and pagan Goddesses? Surely to place the Resurrection in
this mechanical context was tantamount to reducing it to a secret combination
of natural causes and denying its miraculous status?
The problem is even more
striking when we look at Kircher’s first published book, the Ars Magnesia,
published in Würzburg when he was twenty-nine years old. Launching into a
description of the various machines that can be constructed with the aid of the
magnet, Kircher describes a device “to
exhibit Christ walking on water, and bringing help to Peter who is gradually
sinking, by a magnetic trick”. “Carve statues of Christ and Peter from the
lightest material possible”, Kircher’s description begins, “When a strong magnet is placed in Peter’s
breast, and with Christ’s outstretched hands or any part of his toga turned
toward Peter made of fine steel, you will have everything required to exhibit
the story. With their lower limbs well propped-up on corks so that they don’t
totter about above the water, the statues are placed in a basin filled up to
the top with water, and the iron hands of Christ soon feel the magnetic power
diffused from the breast of Peter. The magnet drags the statue of Christ to it
with equal motions, and insinuates itself into Peter’s embrace. The artifice
will be greater if the statue of Christ is flexible in its middle, for in this
way it will bend itself, to the great admiration and piety of the spectators”.[120]
Despite Kircher’s claims, the
steel-handed bending Jesus floating on a cork and drawn to a magnetic Peter
does not strike us as a particularly pious artifice. Indeed, his demonstration
almost seems to carry the heretical suggestion that what appeared to be
miraculous was merely carried out through a clever piece of natural magic,
reminiscent of James Bond’s magnetic encounter with the metal-toothed villain
Jaws in the film Moonraker. But that can hardly be the real thrust of
Kircher’s demonstration. Rather, the clue to Kircher’s intention can probably
best be gleaned from his own definition of natural magic: feats of natural
magic can resemble miracles to those who are ignorant of their true causes.
Again, as in the case of the perpetual motion machines, the analogy is limited.
Real miracles by definition defy demonstration and replication. By producing wonder, fear and amusement,
however, Kircher’s magical machines rehearsed his visitors’ reactions to the
miraculous and the demonic, and trained them in civility and piety.
|
essay |
[1] For discussions of Kircher’s machines, see particularly Thomas L. Hankins and Robert J. Silverman, Instruments and the Imagination, Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995, especially chapters 2-4, Paula Findlen, Scientific Spectacle in Baroque Rome: Athanasius Kircher and the Roman College Museum, Roma Moderna e Contemporanea. 1995; 3:625-665, Joscelyn Godwin, Athanasius Kircher: A Renaissance man and the quest for lost knowledge. London: Thames and Hudson; 1979, Eugenio Lo Sardo ed. Icononismi e Mirabilia da Athanasius Kircher. Rome: Edizioni dell'Elefante; 1999 and Adalgisa Lugli,. Naturalia et Mirabilia. Il collezionismo enciclopedico nelle Wunderkammern d'Europa. Milan; 1983. On Kircher’s musical machines, see Jan Jaap Haspels, Automatic musical instruments, their mechanics and their music, 1580-1820, Niroth: Muiziekdruk C.V. Koedijk, 1987. On Kircher’s magnetic devices in particular see Martha Baldwin. Magnetism and the anti-Copernican polemic. Journal for the History of Astronomy. 1985; 16:155-174, Jim Bennett, Cosmology and the Magnetical Philosophy, 1640-1680. Journal for the History of Astronomy. 1981; 12: 165-177, Silvio Bedini, Seventeenth Century Magnetic Timepieces. Physis. 1969; 11: 37-78. On optical and catoptric devices, see Jurgis Baltrusaitis, Anamorphoses ou magie artificielle des effets merveilleux. Paris: Olivier Perrin; 1969, and idem., Le miroir. Paris: Le Seuil 1978.
[2] Filippo Buonanni, Musaeum Kircherianum sive Musaeum a P. Athanasio Kirchero In Collegio Romano Societatis Iesu Jam pridem Incoeptum Nuper restitutum, auctum, descriptum, & Iconibus illustratum. Rome: Typis Georgii Plachii; 1709, pp. 302-315:
[3] See, for example, the classic study by Krysztof Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux: Paris, Venise, XVIe-XVIIIe siècle, Paris: Gallimard, 1987, especially chapter 1.
[4] On the relationship between courtly models of behaviour and early modern science, see in particular Mario Biagioli, Galileo Courtier: The practice of science in the culture of absolutism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press; 1993. For sprezzatura see pp. 51-52.
[5] On early-modern scientific “jokes”, cf Paula Findlen, Jokes of Nature and Jokes of Knowledge: The Playfulness of Scientific Discourse in Early Modern Europe. Renaissance Quarterly. 1990; 43:292-331.
[6] Athanasius Kircher to Johann Georg Anckel (or J.M. Hirt), Rome, 16 July 1659, Herzog-August-Bibliothek Wolfenbüttel, Bibliotheksarchiv N° 376, quoted in John Fletcher (ed.), Athanasius Kircher und seine Beziehungen zum gelehrten Europa seiner Zeit. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz; 1988, p. 105. The manuscript letters of Kircher conserved in the Herzog-August-Bibliothek have recently been made available on the Internet <http://www.hab.de/projekte/kircher/kircher.htm>
[7] Athanasius Kircher, Ars Magna lucis et umbrae. Romae: Ludovico Grignani; 1646, p. 553: "Horoscopium Geographicum universale Societatis Iesu construere, quo in omnibus Collegijs dictae Societatis toto orbe terrarum diffusis, quota hora sit uno intuitu demonstratur".
[8] Georgio de Sepibus. Romanii Collegii Musaeum Celeberrimum cuius magnae antiquariae rei... Amsterdam: Ex Officina Janssonio-Waesbergiana; 1678; also Kircher, Phonurgia nova, Campidonae: Dreherr; 1673, p. 2
[9] See Claudio Costantini, Baliani e i Gesuiti. Florence: Giunti Barbèra; 1969, Ugo Baldini, Uniformitas et Soliditas Doctrinae: Le censure librorum e opinionum. in idem., Legem impone subactis. Studi su filosofie e scienze dei gesuiti in Italia, 1540- 1632. Rome: Bulzoni; 1992; pp. 75-119, Michael John Gorman, A Matter of Faith? Christoph Scheiner, Jesuit censorship and the Trial of Galileo. Perspectives on Science. 1996; 4(3):283-320, idem., Jesuit explorations of the Torricellian space: carp-bladders and sulphurous fumes. Mélanges de L'Ecole Française De Rome. Italie Et Méditerranée. 1994; tome 106(fasc. 2):pp. 7-32 and Marcus Hellyer, "Because the authority of my superiors commands": Censorship, physics and the German Jesuits . Early Modern Science and Medicine. 1996; 1(3):319-354.
[10] De Sepibus, op. cit. (note 6)
[11] See Francesco Gizzio to Athanasius Kircher, Naples; 27 October 1668, Rome, Archives of the Pontifical Gregorian University (hereafter APUG), 564 f. 156r and, for De Sepibus’ trip to Naples, Gizzio to Kircher, Naples, 28 February 1670 (APUG 559, f. 85r). For Kircher’s fear that De Sepibus had died in 1674, see Gizzio to Kircher, Naples, 14 July 1674 (APUG 565, f. 213rv. The manuscript correspondence of Kircher conserved in the Archives of the Pontifical Gregorian University (APUG 555-568) is now available for consultation on the Internet. See The Athanasius Kircher Correspondence Project, ed. Michael John Gorman and Nick Wilding, <http://galileo.imss.firenze.it/multi/kircher/index.html>
[12] De Sepibus, op. cit., pp. 2-3.
[13] De Sepibus, op. cit., p. 60
[14] De oraculo Delphico, APUG 566, f. 236r <http://150.217.52.68/kircher/ASPgentit.asp?idtitrec=4965>, accessible via the Athanasius Kircher Correspondence Project, cit.
[15] Athanasius Kircher, Phonurgia nova, Campidonae: Dreherr; 1673, p. 112.
[16] On the official foundation of the Musaeum Kircherianum and the Donnini bequest, see Findlen, op. cit., R. Garrucci, Origini e vicende del Museo Kircheriano dal 1651 al 1773. La Civiltà Cattolica. 1879; Serie X Vol. XII(Quaderno 703): 727-739, Maristella Casciato, Maria Grazia Ianniello and Maria Vitale, eds., Enciclopedismo in Roma barocca: Athanasius Kircher e il museo del Collegio Romano tra Wunderkammer e museo scientifico. Venice: Marsilio; 1986, and R. G. Villoslada, Storia del Collegio Romano dal suo inizio all soppressione della Compagnia di Gesù. Rome; 1954, as well as Buonanni, Musaeum Kircherianum, pp. 1-3, as well as the manuscripts documenting the museum’s history in APUG 35.
[17] The passage, from John Evelyn’s diary, is quoted in Barbara Shapiro, John Wilkins, 1614-1672; an intellectual biography, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969, p. 120. See Jack Peter Zetterberg, "Mathematical Magick" in England: 1550-1650, Dissertation, University of Wisconsin-Madison; 1976, pp. 212 ff.
[18]Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu (hereafter ARSI) Rom. 150, I. 36r, cited in Ugo Baldini and Pier Daniele Napolitani, eds., Christoph Clavius: Corrispondenza, Pisa: Università di Pisa, Dipartimento di Matematica, Sezione di Didattica e Storia della Matematica; 1992, Vol. III.2, pp. 54-5, note 2.
[19] On Grienberger, see Michael John Gorman, Mathematics and Modesty in the Society of Jesus: The Problems of Christoph Grienberger, forthcoming in Archimedes, guest ed. Mordechai Feingold, 2001.
[20] Kircher, Magnes, sive de arte magnetica opus tripartitum, Romae: Ex Typographia Ludovici Grignani, 1641, Lib. II, Cap. II, p. 431, "[P]artim è literis ab ijs, qui iter in Indias susceperant, vel oretenus ab ijs, qui inde peregrini Romam advenerant; partim ex literarum Mathematicarum è diversis orbis terrae partibus ad Clavium, Grimbergerum, aliosque Romanos Societatis IESU Mathematicos praedecessores meos datarum, quod penes me est, Archivio; multas sanè, circa declinationes Magneticas haud spernendas observationes collegi"
[21] Kaspar Schott, Mechanica Hydraulica-Pneumatica, Würzburg: Pigrin, 1657, p. 339
[22] Schott, Mechanica Hydraulica-Pneumatica, cit., p. 300
[23] See Schott, Magia Universalis, Pars III, Würzburg: J. G. Schönwetter, 1658, pp. 219-228 “Machina II: Glossocomum nostrum”, discussed in Gorman, Mathematics and Modesty, cit., and also Schott, Magia Universalis, Pars I, Würzburg: J. G. Schönwetter, 1657, pp. 26-7.
[24] De Sepibus, op.cit., p. 13 (on Clavius’ experiment) and p. 17 (on Grienberger’s wooden astrolabe)
[25] Jakob Johann Wenceslaus Dobrzensky de Nigro Ponte, Nova, et amaenior de admirando fontium genio (ex abditis naturae claustris, in orbis lucem emanante) philosophia. Ferrara: Alphonsum, & Io. Baptistam de Marestis; 1659, p. 46. On Dobrzensky de Nigro Ponte see R.J.W. Evans, The Making of the Habsburg Monarchy: An Interpretation. Oxford: Clarendon Press; 1979, pp. 316, 337, 339-40, 356, 369-70, 390
[26] Schott, Magia Universalis, Pars I, Würzburg: J. G. Schönwetter, 1657, p. 42, cf. Kircher, Oedipus Aegyptiacus hoc est universalis hieroglyphicae veterum doctrinae temporum iniuria abolitae instauratio, Rome: Vitalis Mascardi; 1652-1654, Tom. 3, Syntag. 17, Cap. 1, p. 488
[27] Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., Pars II, Classis I, p. 255 and Kircher, Oedipus Aegyptiacus, cit., Tom. II2, Classis VIII, Cap. III, Pragmatia I, p. 332.
[28] Kircher, Oedipus Aegyptiacus, cit., Tom. II2, Classis VIII, Cap. III, Prag. V, pp. 337-8, “Ara deorum”.
[29]Athanasius Kircher, Vita admodum Reverendi P. A. Kircher, Augsburg: S. Utzschneider, 1684, pp. 30-3.
[30] See Zetterberg, “Mathematical Magick”, cit., p. 32
[31] For a rich discussion of the contrast between learned and popular magic during this period see R.J.W. Evans, The Making of the Habsburg Monarchy, cit., Chapters 9-12.
[32] The literature on Jesuit theatre is enormous, and a survey would take us beyond the scope of this article, but a classic study is Jean-Marie Valentin, Theatre des Jésuites dans les pays de langue allemande (1554-1680) : salut des ames et ordre des cités, Bern, Las Vegas : P. Lang, 1978 (3 vols.).
[33] See Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., p. 323 and Iconismus XXIX. On Kircher’s time in Malta see Alberto Bartòla, Alessandro VII e Athanasius Kircher S.I. Ricerche e appunti sulla loro corrispondenza erudita e sulla storia di alcuni codici chigiani. Miscellanea Bibliothecae Apostolicae Vaticanae. 1989; III:7-105.
[34] See the letter from Kircher to General G.P. Oliva, Rome, 5 May 1672, published in Garrucci, Origini e vicende del Museo, cit., also Buonanni, Musaeum Kircherianum, pp. 1-3, Godwin, Athanasius Kircher, cit., pp. 14-15.
[35] See Schott to Kircher, n.p., n.d. [Würzburg, circa 1656? ], APUG 567, f. 52r: “Tutti li Padri di questa nostra Provincia stimano e amano Vostra Reverenza principalmente il nostro R. P. Provinciale, il quale vorebbe che io discrivessi e stampassi la Galeria di Vostra Reverenza”, also Schott to Kircher, Würzburg, 21 October 1656: “O[ro] se V.a R.a volesse e potesse impiegare per mio e suo servitio, uno o due giorni, e farmi un’abbozzo, e breve descrittione della sua Galeria, significandomi brevemente le cose più riguardevole, massimamente le nuove datte doppo la mia partenza, delineandole ruditer e obiter. Vorrei descrivere a lungo ogni cosa, e farle stampare, con bellissime figure di rame, prima separatamente, e doppo nella mia Magia Universalis Naturae et Artis”. Apparently Valentin Stansel had been charged with composing the description for Schott, but Stansel, soon to depart for Brazil, did not send it, despite Schott’s repeated pleas (e.g. “Prego Vostra Reverenza quanto posso, e per l’amore che mi porta, e propter con humania studia, che m’impetri dal R.P. Assistente, che mi mandi la Galeria di V.a R.a descritta dal P. Stansel, o almeno le cose più principali”, Schott to Kircher, Würzburg, 16 June 1657, APUG 567, f. 45r)
[36] On Schott’s career, see ARSI, Lamalle: Schott. On Kircher’s arrival in Avignon, see ARSI, Lugd. 14, f. 239v, and the appendix to the Catalogue.
[37] See ARSI Rom. 81 ff.64v, 88v, 114v: (Catalogue of Collegio Romano, 1652-4): “P. Gaspar Sciot, socius P. Athanasii”, “P. Athanasius Chircher, scribit imprimenda”.
[38] Kircher, Magnes, sive de magnetica arte libri tres, Rome: V. Mascardi, 16543, sig. †† rv.
[39] Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., pp. 1-3, Praeloquium ad Lectorem
[40] Schott, op. cit.., p. 3
[41] Schott, op. cit., p. 5
[42] R.J.W. Evans, The Making of the Habsburg Monarchy, cit., especially ch. 9-12.
[43] Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., p. 219.
[44] Daniel Schwenter and Georg Philipp Harsdörffer, Deliciae Physico-Mathematicae, oder Mathematische und philosophische Erquickstunden, herausgegeben und eingeleitet von Jörg Jochen Berns, Frankfurt a. M.: Keip, 1991.
[45] Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., pp. 311-2
[46] ibid.
[47] Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., pp. 63-4 (on explosions) and Gioseffo Petrucci, Prodromo apologetico alli studi Chircheriani, Amsterdam: Janssonio-Waesbergi; 1677, p. 128 (on Settala’s burning-mirrors).
[48] Robert Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History, New Your: Basic Books, 1984, pp. 75-104.
[49] Thomas L. Hankins and Robert J. Silverman, Instruments and the Imagination, Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995, especially chapters 2-4. On the cat piano, designed to entertain a melancholy prince, see Kircher, Musurgia universalis, Rome: Francesco Corbelleti; 1650, Tom. I, Lib. VI, Pars IV, Caput I, p. 519 and Schott, Magia Universalis, cit., Pars II, pp. 372-3. Schott provides an illustration.
[50] Schott, Magia Universalis, cit., Pars I, p. 302
[51] The classic study of early modern civility remains Norbert Elias, The civilizing process, trans. Edmund Jephcott, Oxford: Blackwell, 1994. A contrasting view, arguing that European civility had its origins in monastic disciplina rather than court culture is advanced in Dilwyn Knox, Disciplina: The Monastic and clerical origins of European Civility in John Monfasani and Ronald G. Musto, eds. Renaissance society and culture: Essays in honour of Eugene F. Rice, Jr. New York: Italica Press; 1991; pp. 107-135. Kircher would seem to demonstrate that the lines between courtly and clerical traditions are perhaps not so clear-cut as both Knox and Elias suppose. On civility see also Jacques Revel, The Uses of Civility, trans. Arthur Goldhammer, in Roger Chartier, ed., A History of Private Life, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989, Vol. 3, pp. 167-205
[52] René Descartes, Les Passions de l’âme, ed. Geneviève Rodis-Lewis, Paris: J. Vrin, 1966.
[53] Marin Mersenne, Harmonie Universelle, Paris: S. Cramoisy, 1636 (facsimile repr. Paris: CNRS, 1963), sig. A iiij recto (on the Archiviole), Justus Lipsius, De Militia Romana, Antwerp: Plantin-Moretus, 1598), Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, London: A. Crooke, 1651. For the court of Louis XIV at Versailles as a “machine”, see Apostolidès, Le roi-machine: Spectacle et politique au temps de Louis XIV, Paris: Editions de Minuit, 1981. On automata and political power see Otto Mayr, Authority, Liberty and Automatic machinery in Early Modern Europe, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986. For a more dated, though entertaining, presentation of the political function of automata, see Lewis Mumford, Authoritarian and Democratic Technics. Technology and Culture. 1964; 5(1):1-8. On automata more generally see Derek J. de Solla Price, Automata and the Origins of Mechanism and Mechanical Philosophy. Technology and Culture. 1964; 5(1):9-23, who recounts the (probably apocryphal) story that Descartes constructed a “beautiful blonde automaton named Francine, but she was discovered in her packing case on board ship and dumped over the side by the captain in his horror of apparent witchcraft”, and Silvio Bedini, The Role of Automata in the history of technology, Technology and Culture. 1964; 5(1): 24-42.
[54] Peter Dear, A Mechanical Microcosm: Bodily Passions, Good Manners, and Cartesian Mechanism. in Christopher Lawrence and Steven Shapin, eds. Science Incarnate: Historical embodiments of Natural knowledge. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press; 1998; pp. 51-82.
[55] On the context of Kircher’s Oedipus Aegyptiacus, see especially Giovanni Cipriani, Gli obelischi egizi: politica e cultura nella Roma barocca. Florence: Olschki; 1993, pp. 77-167. On the question of the Corpus Hermeticum see Frances Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic tradition, London: Routledge & K. Paul, 1964, and, more recently, Anthony Grafton, Protestant versus Prophet: Isaac Casaubon on Hermes Trismegistus, and idem., The Strange Deaths of Hermes and the Sibyls, both in idem., Defenders of the Text: The Traditions of Scholarship in an Age of Science, 1450-1800, on pp. 145-161 and 162-177 respectively.
[56] Kircher, Oedipus Aegyptiacus, cit., Sig. d recto
[57] For Kircher’s dream of being elected Pope, see Kaspar Schott, Physica Curiosa, sive Mirabilia Naturae et Artis, Würzburg: Jobus Hertz; 1667 (2nd edition), Liber III (Mirabilia Hominum), Caput XXV, pp. 455-6. Kircher’s vision of the invasion of the Jesuit college in Würzburg is described in idem., Liber II (Mirabilia Spectrorum), Caput V, p. 210 and also in Kircher’s posthumous autobiography, Vita admodum Reverendi P. A. Kircher, Augsburg: S. Utzschneider, 1684, pp. 38-41. On the use of recorded dreams as a historical source, see Peter Burke, The Cultural History of Dreams, in idem., Varieties of Cultural History, Ithica: Cornell University Press; 1997, pp. 23-42.
[58] Schott, Magia Universalis, cit., Pars I, Prolegomena, especially pp. 8-18, cf Kircher, Oedipus Aegyptiacus, Tom. 2, class. 2, cap. 1 and Kircher,Obeliscus Pamphilius, Rome: Ludovico Grignani; 1650, bk. 1, ch. 1.
[59] Schott, Magia Universalis, loc. cit.
[60] Schott, Magia Universalis, Pars I, Cap. VI (p. 22 ff). In a letter to Kircher sent from Würzburg on 1 April 1656, Schott wrote “Gaudeo vehementer, Reginam Suedice [sic] tandem visitare Museum R.ae V.ae” (APUG 561, f. 40r)
[61] On the relationship between demonology and natural philosophy in seventeenth century Europe, see Stuart Clark, Thinking with Demons: The Idea of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997, especially pp. 149-311, and idem., The rational witchfinder: conscience, demonological naturalism and popular superstitions. in Stephen Pumfrey, Paolo Rossi and Maurice Slawinski, (eds.). Science, Culture and Popular belief in Renaissance Europe. Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press; 1991; pp. 222-248.
[62] Schott, Magia Universalis, cit., Pars I, Caput X, p. 39 (on demons and the vacuum) and idem., Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., introduction, on the four fundamental principles of hydraulic machines.
[63]Schott, Mechanica Hydraulico-Pneumatica, cit., pp. 307-8
[64] Martin del Rio, Disquisitionum Magicarum Libri Sex, Louvain, 1599 (edition used Mainz: Henningii; 1624). Liber I, De magia in genere, & de naturali ac artificiosa in specie. On this work and witch-trials see Petra Nagel, Die Bedeutung der "Disquisitionum magicarum libri sex" von Martin Delrio für das Verfahren in Hexenprozessen, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1995. On Del Rio’s life, see anon., [H. Langeveltius?], M. A. del Rii.... Vita brevi commentariolo expressa. Antwerp; 1609. On Del Rio’s critique of Stoic drama see Roland Mayer, Personata Stoa: Neostoicism and Senecan Tragedy. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 1994; 57:151-174.
[65] On wonders and the preternatural, see especially Lorraine Daston and Katherine Park, Wonders and the order of nature, 1150-1750, New York : Zone Books, 1998.
[66] Del Rio, Disquisitionum Magicarum, ed. cit., pp. 49-50.
[67] Unfortunately there is no adequate scholarly study of Pereira.
[68] Benito Pereira, Adversus fallaces & superstitiosas artes, id est, De magia, de observatione somniorum, et de divinatione astrologica. Libri tres, first published Ingolstadt 1591, edition used Coloniae Agrippinae, apud Ioannem Gymnicum, 1598, pp. 41, 67-8, 91.
[69] Kircher, Magnes, 16543, cit., Liber II, Pars 4, p. 238.
[70] Schott, Magia Universalis, cit., Sig. ††††† recto: Prooemium totius operis
[71] J. Nadal, Exhortatio Coloniensis 6a (1567), in P. Hieronymi Nadal Commentarii de Instituto Societatis Iesu, ed. Michael Nicolau, S.J. (= Epistolae et Monumenta P. Hieronymi Nadal, Tomus V) Romae: apud Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, 1962, p. 832, n. 21.
[72]Christoph Clavius, Discursus cuiusdam amicissimi Societatis Iesu de modo et via qua Societas ad maiorem Dei honorem et animarum profectum augere hominum de se opinionem, omnemque haereticorum in literis aestimationem, qua illi multum nituntur, convellere brevissime et facillime possit, (c. 1594), ARSI Stud. 3, ff. 485-487 (Clavius autograph), published in Monumenta Paedagogica Societatis Iesu, Nova editio penitus retractata, ed. Ladislaus Lukács, Rome, Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu, 1965-, VII, pp. 119-122
[73] ibid.
[74]Athanasius Kircher to Queen Christina of Sweden, Rome, 11 November 1651, APUG 561 ff. 50r-v (autograph draft), on 50r.
[75]There is a vast bibliography on Christina, but see especially Susanna Åkerman, Queen Christina of Sweden and her circle: The transformation of a seventeenth-century philosophical libertine, Leiden: Brill, 1991, idem., Cristina di Svezia: scienza ed alchimia nella Roma barocca. Bari: Dedalo, 1990, Jeanne Bignami Odier and Anna Maria Partini, 'Cristina di Svezia e le scienze occulte', Physis 1983, A. 25(fasc. 2): 251-278. Georgina Masson, Queen Christina London: Secker & Warburg, 1968, though a popularised presentation, remains useful as an overview.
[76]Kircher had arranged for a copy of his Musurgia Universalis to be sent to Christina in 1650. See Louys Elzevier to Athanasius Kircher, Amsterdam; 14 November 1650, APUG 568, f. 238 r-v
[77]Daniello Bartoli, Dell'huomo di lettere difeso & emendato, Bologna: Heredi di E. Dozza, 1646.
[78]See the undated letter to Kircher in APUG 556 f. 173r, in a more legible Italian translation on f. 174r: "Spero che hormai havremo un occasione più libera, e fedele di corrispondenza mutua, e per poter communicarmi gli più sicuramente". Kircher eventually dedicated his 1656 Itinerarium Exstaticum to Christina, who mentions his plan to do so in the same letter: "Desiderei ancor sapere, se me giudichi ancor degna a dedicarmi la sua incomparibile opera".
[79]See Carlos Ziller Camenietzki, L'Extase interplanetaire d'Athanasius Kircher: Philosophie, Cosmologie et discipline dans la Compagnie de Jésus au XVIIe siècle, Nuncius, 1995, X(1): 3-32.
[80]APUG 142 ff.81r-83r
[81]Galeazzo Gualdo Priorato, History of her majesty Christina Alessandra, queen of Swedland. London: Printed for T.W., 1658, pp. 428-431.
[82]See Jonathan D. Spence, The memory palace of Matteo Ricci, London: Faber and Faber, 1985, Pasquale M. D'Elia, Galileo in China. Relations through the Roman College between Galileo and the Jesuit Scientist-Missionaries (1610-1640). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960, Jacques Gernet, China and the Christian impact: a conflict of cultures, trans. Janet Lloyd, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985, p. 22.
[83][Anon.], Origine del Collegio Romano e suoi progressi, APUG: 142. This manuscript forms the basis of the descriptions of ceremonial receptions given in the Collegio Romano provided in R. Garcia Villoslada, Storia del Collegio Romano dal suo inizio all soppressione della Compagnia di Gesù. Rome: Typis Pontificiae Universitatis Gregorianae, 1954, pp. 263-296.
[84]Famiano Strada, Saggio delle Feste che si apparecchiano nel Collegio Romano in honore de' Santi Ignatio et Francesco da N. S. Gregorio XV Canonizati All'Illustrissimo, & Eccellentissimo Signor Principe di Venosa. Roma: Appresso Alessandro Zannetti; 1622, sig. A2 recto. On theatrical productions in the Collegio Romano during this time, see Irene Mamczarz, La trattatistica dei Gesuiti e la pratica teatrale al Collegio Romano: Maciej Sarbiewski, Jean Dubreuil e Andrea Pozzo. in M. Chiabò and F. Doglio, eds., I Gesuiti e i Primordi del Teatro Barocco in Europa. Roma: Torre d'Orfeo; 1995: 349-387 and Jean-Yves Boriaud, La Poésie et le Théâtre latins au Collegio Romano d'après les manuscrits du Fondo Gesuitico de la Bibliothèque Nationale Vittorio Emanuele II. Mélanges de l'École Française de Rome, Italie et Mediterranée. 1990; 102(1): 77-96.
[85]See Emilio Sala and Federico Marincola, La Musica nei Drammi Gesuitici: Il Caso dell'Apotheosis sive Consecratio Sanctorum Ignatii et Franciscii Xaverii (1622), in in M. Chiabò and F. Doglio, eds., I Gesuiti e i Primordi del Teatro Barocco in Europa, cit., pp. 389-439. For a rich contemporary Italian discussion of theatrical machinery see Nicola Sabbattini, Pratica di fabricar scene, e machine ne' teatri Ravenna: Per Pietro de' Paoli, e Gio. Battista Giouanelli Stampatori Camerali; 1638.
[86]Strada, op. cit., p. 9, and, for the cometary presentation, [Orazio Grassi], De tribus cometis anni MDCXVIII Disputatio astronomica publice habita in Collegio Romano Societatis Iesu ab uno ex Patribus eiusdem Societatis. Romae: ex typographia Iacobi Mascardi; 1619, OG VI pp. 21-35, translated in Stillman Drake and C.D. O'Malley, The Controversy on the Comets of 1618, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press; 1960, pp. 3-19.
[87]APUG 142 ff.1r-8v: Nota delle spese fatte nella Fabrica del Collegio Romano f. 4r :" Dal 1627 fino a tutto il 1632 furono spesi [scudi] sedicimila dugento novanta due per la fabrica della spezieria, cominciata a di 5 Luglio 1627"
[88]ARSI Rom. 79 f.11v and Biblioteca Nazionale di Roma “Vittorio Emmanuele II”, Fondo Gesuitico 1526 f.35r
[89]ARSI Rom. 110 f.51v
[90]Idem. f.121r
[91]See Imago Primi Saeculi Societatis Iesu A Provincia Flandro-Belgica eiusdem Societatis Repraesentata. Antwerp: Balthasar Moretus; 1640, p. 12.
[92]APUG 134, XVI, Abbozzo iconografico del Collegio Romano.
[93]See e.g. Athanasius Kircher to Duke August of Brunswick-Lüneburg, Rome, 25 July 25, HAB BA n. 366, and the other medical gifts discussed in John Fletcher Athanasius Kircher and Duke August of Brunswick-Lüneburg. A chronicle of friendship in John Fletcher, John, ed., Athanasius Kircher und seine Beziehungen zum gelehrten Europa seiner Zeit. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz; 1988: pp. 99-139.
[94]Some manuscript books of secrets originating in the Collegio Romano are listed in Il Fiore dell'arte di sanare, Rome: Edizione Paracelso, 1992, pp. 565-570. The Fondo Curia of APUG also contains numerous manuscript books of secrets, including APUG: FC 2087, APUG: FC 1381, APUG: FC 562, APUG: FC 1860/2, APUG: FC 2200. The "ceroto per la carnosità", accompanied by a crude drawing of a phallus, is described in APUG FC 2193, f. [40v]. On candlewax see APUG 134, XIV. For a study of the contents of another Jesuit pharmacy see Carmen Ravanelli Guidotti, La Farmacia dei Gesuiti di Novellara, Faenza: Edit Faenza, 1994. On the tradition of books of secrets during this period, see William Eamon, Science and the secrets of nature: Books of secrets in medieval and early modern culture. Princeton: Princeton University Press; 1994.
[95]APUG 142 f. 71r, Villoslada, Storia, cit., p. 275. For the Rospigliosi family's visit to the pharmacy in 1668, see Villoslada, Storia, cit., p. 277.
[96] Kircher, Mundus Subterraneus, Amsterdam: Janssonius, 1665, Vol. 2 p. 392
[97] See the manuscript Fondo Gesuitico 1382 in the Biblioteca Nazionale di Roma, “Vittorio Emmanuele II”
[98] Kircher, Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae, cit., pp. 553-4.
[99] On Skippon see Peter Burke, The discreet charm of Milan: English travellers in the seventeenth century, in idem., Varieties of cultural history, Oxford: Polity Press, 1997, pp. 94-110.
[100] Philip Skippon, An Account of A Journey made Thro' Part of the Low-Countries, Germany, Italy and France. in A. and J. Churchill, A Collection of Voyages and Travels. London: J. Walthoe; 1732; pp. 359-736, on pp. 672-4.
[101]Oldenburg to Boyle, Saumur, 19 March 1657, The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, ed. and transl. by A. Rupert Hall and Marie Boas Hall, Madison, Milwaukee, and London, 1965-, vol. I pp.155-156.
[102]Southwell to Oldenburg, Montpellier; 20 October 1659, The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, cit., I, pp. 323-325.
[103]Southwell to Boyle, n.p., 30 March 1661, in The works of the honourable Robert Boyle, ed. Thomas Birch, London: J. & F. Rivington, 1772 (2nd edition), VI, pp. 297-300.
[104]ibid.
[105]Boyle did however allude to the palingenetic experiment in A Discourse about the possibility of the resurrection (1675) in Boyle, Works, cit., 4, p. 194.
[106]Quoted in John Bargrave, Pope Alexander the Seventh and the College of Cardinals, with a Catalogue of Dr. Bargrave's Museum, ed. J.C. Robertson. London; 1867.
[107]R[obert] P[ayne] to Gilbert Sheldon, Oxford, 16 December 1650, British Library Ms. Lansdowne 841 ff. 33r-v, on 33v.
[108] Constantyn Huygens to Descartes, n.p., 7 January 1643, published in Leon Roth, ed., Correspondence of Descartes and Constantyn Huygens 1635-1647, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1926, pp. 185-6, cited in John L. Heilbron, Electricity in the 17th and 18th centuries. A study in early modern physics, Berkeley, California: University of California Press; 1979, p. 106.
[109]On Moray see Alexander Robertson, The Life of Sir Robert Moray. Soldier, Statesman and Man of Science (1608-1673), London, 1922.
[110]Moray to Kircher, Ingolstadt, 1 June 1644, APUG 557 363r-v.
[111]Moray to Kircher, Ingolstadt, 7 September 1644, APUG 557 323ar-av, Moray to Kircher Ingolstadt, 24 January 1645; APUG 568 ff. 74r - 75v, Moray to Kircher, Paris, 12 March 1645, APUG 557 ff. 271r-v, Moray to Kircher, Cologne, 21 November 1655; APUG 568 ff. 39r-v, Moray to Kircher, Cologne, 28 January 1656; APUG 568 ff. 20r-21v, Moray to Kircher, Rotterdam, 6 August 1657; APUG 568 ff. 196r-197v.
[112]Moray to Kircher, Whitehall, 25 July 1663, APUG 563 ff. 212 r-v
[113] Moray to Oldenburg, Oxford; 19 October 1665; The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, cit., II: 574-576.
[114]Moray to Oldenburg, Oxford, 16 November 1665 in The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, cit., II: 608-611
[115]Boyle to Oldenburg, Oxford [?]; 18 November 1665, The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, cit., II: 613-614.
[116]Oldenburg to Boyle, London, 21 November 1665, The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg, cit., II: 615-617
[117] See Kircher, Magnes, 16543, cit., pp. 22-23, Axiomata seu pronunciata De Natura & Arte
[118] See Hankins and Silverman , Instruments and the Imagination, cit., pp. 14-36
[119] De Sepibus, Romani Collegii Musaeum, cit., pp. 2-3
[120] Kircher, Ars Magnesia, Hoc est Disquisitio Bipartita-empirica seu experimentalis, Physico-Mathematica De Natura, Viribus, et Prodigiosis Effectibus Magnetis, Würzburg: Typis Eliae Michaelis Zinck; 1631, p. 51
|
essay |