Newton: and The Netherlands

omslag Newton.indd | Sander Pinkse Boekproductie | 16-11-12 / 14:45 | Pag.
Newton
The Dutch Republic proved ‘A new light on several
to be extremely receptive to major figures involved in
the groundbreaking ideas of
Isaac Newton (1643–1727).
the reception of Newton’s
Dutch scholars such as Willem
Jacob ’s Gravesande and Petrus
work.’
Prof. Bert Theunissen,
and the Netherlands
van Musschenbroek played a Utrecht University
Newton and the Netherlands

crucial role in the adaption and How Isaac Newton was Fashioned
dissemination of Newton’s work, in the Dutch Republic
‘This book provides an
not only in the Netherlands
but also in the rest of Europe. important contribution to
EDITED BY ERIC JORINK
In the course of the eighteenth the study of the European AND AD MAAS
century, Newton’s ideas (in Enlightenment with new
different guises and interpre-
insights in the circulation
tations) became a veritable
hype in Dutch society. In Newton of knowledge.’
and the Netherlands Newton’s Prof. Frans van Lunteren,
sudden success is analyzed in Leiden University
great depth and put into a new
perspective.
Ad Maas is curator at the Museum

Boerhaave, Leiden, the Netherlands.
Eric Jorink is researcher at the Huygens
Institute for Netherlands History
(Royal Dutch Academy of Arts and
Sciences).
JORINK /MAAS (EDS)
www.lup.nl
LUP
Newton and the Netherlands.indd | Sander Pinkse Boekproductie | 16-11-12 / 16:47 | Pag. 1
Newton and the Netherlands

Newton
and the Netherlands
How Isaac Newton was Fashioned
in the Dutch Republic
Edited by Eric Jorink and Ad Maas
Leiden University Press

The publication of this book is made possible by a grant

from Museum Boerhaave.
Cover illustration: Britannia between Newton and W.J. ’s Gravesande,

Oil painting by G.M. de Boni, 1787 (courtesy Galleria Doria Pamphilj,
Rome)
Cover design and lay-out: Sander Pinkse Boekproductie, Amsterdam
isbn 978 90 8728 137 3

e-isbn 978 94 0060 055 3 (pdf)
e-isbn 978 94 0060 123 9 (ePub)
nur 680 / 924
© E. Jorink, A. Maas / Leiden University Press, Amsterdam 2012
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright

reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or
introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by
any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or other-
wise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and
the author of the book.
Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyright-
ed illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever
believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the pub-
lisher.
Contents
Introduction 7
Eric Jorink and Ad Maas
‘The Miracle of Our Time’ 13

How Isaac Newton was fashioned in the Netherlands
Eric Jorink and Huib Zuidervaart
Servant of Two Masters 67

Fatio de Duillier between Christiaan Huygens and Isaac Newton
Rob Iliffe
How Newtonian Was Herman Boerhaave? 93

Rina Knoeff
The Man Who Erased Himself 113

Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande and the Enlightenment
Ad Maas
‘The Wisest Man to Whom this Earth Has as Yet Given

Birth’ 139
Petrus van Musschenbroek and the limits of Newtonian
natural philosophy
Kees de Pater
Low Country Opticks 159

The optical pursuits of Lambert ten Kate and Daniel Fahrenheit
in early Dutch ‘Newtonianism’
Fokko Jan Dijksterhuis
Defining the Supernatural 185

The Dutch Newtonians, the Bible and the Laws of Nature
Rienk Vermij
Anti-Newtonianism and Radical Enlightenment 207

Jordy Geerlings
Newtonianism at the Dutch Universities during the

Enlightenment 227
The teaching of ‘philosophy’ from ’s Gravesande to Van Swinden
Henri Krop
Authors 250
Index 253
Introduction
ERIC JORINK AND AD MAAS
The Dutch Republic is known as an early adopter of Isaac Newton’s 7

natural philosophy. In fact, Newton’s success on the Continent was
I NT RODU C T I ON
largely effected by Dutch scholars who supported his work at an early
stage. This volume, Newton and the Netherlands, is largely devoted to
the perception of Newton’s ideas in the Dutch Republic, as well as the
fashioning of the man himself, from the publication of his magnum
opus Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica in 1687, until the
end of the eighteenth century.
Despite the importance of the Dutch Republic in the history of
Newtonianism, surprisingly little research has been done in this field.
For most historians the sudden popularity of Newtonianism in the
Dutch Republic has been a historical fact requiring no explanation.
The introduction of Newtonianism to the Netherlands in 1715 is usual-
ly considered the logical next step towards modern science: from Aris-
totelianism, via Cartesianism towards Newtonianism. Seen from this
perspective, the appearance of Newtonian physics in the academic
curriculum in 1715–1717 was inevitable, as was the increasing popular-
ity of the man himself. The eighteenth century in the Dutch Repub-
lic was, as in England, the age of Newton. Eulogies of ‘this miracle of
our age’ are found not only in scientific texts, but also in sermons and
poetry.
In this volume, which is the result of an international conference
held in Museum Boerhaave, Leiden, 20–22 April 2010,1 we would like
to draw attention to certain conceptual and contextual problems, and
to highlight a number of protagonists and underlying patterns rele-
vant to Newton’s success. Drawing on the recent trend in the history

of science for concepts such as the ‘circulation of knowledge’, and the
focus on the processes of reception, adaptation and dissemination,
we will argue that ‘Newtonianism’ in the Dutch context was not a sta-
ble, coherent system, originating in Britain and waiting to be imple-
mented on the Continent, but a philosophical construction, adapted
to local problems and circumstances. The dissemination of Newton
was a many-sided and complex process, in which natural philosophy,
religious and cultural factors, propaganda and practical concerns, and
personal benefits, fears and preferences interacted in a fascinating
manner.
As this book shows, the ‘Newtonianism’ constructed by Dutch natu-
ral philosophers appears to be anything but a fixed and clearly defined
set of scientific concepts. Many scholars who have been labeled
8 straightforwardly as ‘Newtonians’, in practice did not embrace New-
ton’s natural philosophy completely. Actually, the Dutch ‘Newtonians’
NE WTON A ND T H E NE T H E RL AN DS
mostly used Newton’s ideas in a selective or even defective manner,

and were far from dogmatic in their adherence to his work. Moreover,
what was understood by ‘Newtonianism’ changed in the course of
time. Studying Newtonianism, therefore, is like looking at Dutch fog:
it is omnipresent, but intangible as well, it often conceals more than
it reveals and at short distances it seems to disappear altogether. It is
no surprise that many of the authors in this book are intrigued by the
‘foggy’, intangible character of Dutch Newtonianism.
In the first chapter Eric Jorink and Huib Zuidervaart present an
overview of the colorful rise of Dutch ‘Newtonianism’, and the way the
man himself was put on the map, as well as on the market. As they
show, Dutch ‘Newtonianism’ was a label, an intellectual construction,
to a large extent molded by an already existing tradition of empirical
research and by a Protestant natural theology which gave the study
of nature a strong religious connotation. Newton’s natural philosophy
was adopted to solve pressing religious and philosophical concerns of
Dutch culture, particularly as an antidote to the ‘blasphemous’ ideas
of Spinoza. In the second half of the eighteenth century an increasing
terminological vagueness became apparent. ‘Newtonianism’ became
interchangeable with experimental philosophy, ‘physico-theology’
and natural theology, all of which roughly described the same set of
ideas, values and practices. As their research suggests, the sudden
success of Newton in the Dutch Republic after the publication of the
second edition of the Principia in 1713, and the subsequent pirated

Amsterdam edition, could be seen as the result of a conscious strategy
of philosophers and publishers.
A particularly penetrating insight into the selective way in which
Newton’s ideas were adopted is provided by Fokko Jan Dijksterhuis in
chapter 6. His study focusses on the Opticks, Newton’s book about his
optical experiments and views (first published in 1704). The reception
in the United Provinces of this book, which, unlike the Principia, has
little to say on worldviews and religion, provides a revealing look into
the practical use of Newton’s work. The polymath Lambert ten Kate
and the instrument maker and lecturer Daniel Fahrenheit, two well-
known ‘Newtonians’ who became familiar with the Opticks, largely
ignored Newton’s central claims and freely picked out the elements
they could use. For Fahrenheit the Opticks proved useful for his pur-
suits in telescope making, while Ten Kate even aimed to correct some 9
elements of Newton’s optics with his own experiments, because they
I NT RODU C T I ON
did not fit his own theories. Both were largely indifferent to Newton’s
natural philosophical system. How ‘Newtonian’, then, were these
scholars actually? Dijksterhuis ends his article by calling into question
the usefulness of the term ‘Newtonianism’, which he considerers ‘too
ambiguous, to illuminate historical developments’. ‘To put it briefly’,
he concludes, ‘“Newtonianism” is not a fruitful category for doing his-
tory of science’.
Another chapter that discusses the nature of Dutch ‘Newtonianism’
is the analysis of its intellectual dimension by Rienk Vermij (chapter 7).
While emphasizing the heterogeneous character of the Dutch Newto-
nians, Vermij identifies a common project, namely ‘defining the rela-
tion between God and nature in a way which answered both scientific
and religious demands’. This ‘project’ had an important impact on the
interpretation and perception of Newton’s ideas by Dutch scholars.
While in the seventeenth century nature was increasingly consid-
ered in terms and concepts adapted from natural philosophy and
geometry, there was some unease about its consequences for tradi-
tional religious views. The presumption that the universe was direct-
ed by a set of eternal and immutable laws of nature could lead to a
deterministic worldview in which God’s role was marginalized. What
was ultimately at stake, Vermij argues, were not philosophical matters
as such, but the authority of the Bible. How could the supernatural
events of the Scripture be brought in accordance with new scientific
developments? From Newton’s natural philosophy a worldview could

be derived in which the world depended directly on God’s benevo-
lence. Vermij argues that this worldview was instrumental in achiev-
ing a broad consensus that arose in the eighteenth-century Dutch
Republic: the miracles and mysteries of the Bible remained outside
the scope of scientific interpretations and, on the other hand, super-
natural events were no longer considered credible in daily life.
Henri Krop establishes (chapter 9) that in the course of the eight-
eenth century a ‘Newtonian’ philosophical system was taught at the
Dutch universities, which included not only natural philosophy, but
also a logic and a metaphysics. The rise of such a comprehensive aca-
demic Newtonianism was unique to the Netherlands, and was distinct
from the popular ‘branch’ of Newtonianism, which in particular found
expression in physico-theological writings.
10 Krop focuses mainly on the late eighteenth-century writings of the
then influential natural philosopher Jean Henri van Swinden, profes-
sor at Franeker and Amsterdam. Van Swinden employed in his meta-

physics a Cartesian dualism of the bodily and the immaterial world.
The latter should be investigated by mathematics and metaphysics,
the former by observations. Thus, Van Swinden insisted on a sound
combination of rationalism and empiricism for investigating nature,
which according to him had a God-given, all-encompassing, teleolog-
ical order. According to Van Swinden’s interpretation, it was Newton
who had managed to combine the deductive and the inductive meth-
od in a fruitful manner.
This book maintains that even the three Leiden professors who
became the figureheads of Newtonianism throughout Europe — Her-
man Boerhaave, Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande and Petrus van Mus-
schenbroek — cannot simply be regarded as ‘dogmatic’ Newtonians.
Rina Knoeff elaborates in chapter 3 that Herman Boerhaave — the
first who openly supported Newton in an academic oration — hardly
used Newton’s mechanical philosophy at all in his medical work. At
the beginning of his career, Boerhaave applied Newton rhetorically
to criticize the method of Descartes, as an example of a sound use of
mathematics in the study of nature. As he later in his career became
increasingly skeptical about the usefulness of the mechanical method
for medicine, he no longer referred to the ‘mathematical’ Newton, but
rather to his chemistry, to the experimental approach of the Opticks.
Knoeff concludes that although Boerhaave was inspired by Newtoni-
an methods, he was at the same time critical about Newton’s results.

Boerhaave’s turn to chemistry, with its emphasis on non-mechanical
powers in the body, even caused a decline of Newtonian medicine
from the 1740s onwards.
Nor did Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande, the most influential dissemi-
nator of Newton’s ideas in the first decades of the eighteenth century,
always follow in the steps of his master. As Ad Maas argues (chapter
4), ’s Gravesande decided to spend his life on popularizing Newton’s
natural philosophy not only because of its supreme intellectual qual-
ities but also because it coincided with ’s Gravesande’s personal pref-
erences and furthered his career. Maas suggests that by dissociating
Newton’s natural philosophy from the metaphysical and theological
concerns that had worried Newton’s early Dutch followers, ’s Grave-
sande paved the way for the introduction of Newton’s natural philo-
sophical system into the Dutch academic curriculum. 11
Kees de Pater suggests in chapter 5 that in the case of Petrus van
I NT RODU C T I ON
Musschenbroek, too, there is a marked discrepancy between rhetoric
and scientific practice. Although Van Musschenbroek portrays him-
self as a wholehearted follower of Newton, he deploys in his research
a rather individual interpretation of what Newtonianism concerns,
focusing especially on its empirical aspect. As De Pater concludes,
the limits of this approach became clearly visible in Van Musschen-
broek’s research, which tended to result in a rather pointless piling up
of experimental data. On the other hand, Van Musschenbroek was not
always able to abstain from ‘feigning hypotheses’ when speculating
about the nature of matter and forces.
Two of the contributions to this volume reach beyond the borders
of the Dutch Republic. The tragic central figure of Jordy Geerling’s
article (chapter 8), Johann Konrad Franz von Hatzfeld, was a German
lackey, who spent some years in England, but also stayed for a while in
the Republic, the refuge for a number of European freethinkers. In The
Hague, Hatzfeld published his La découverte de la vérité (1745), which
contained a ferocious attack on Newton’s natural philosophy. Hatzfeld
was condemned for the opinions he expressed in his book, not for his
attack on Newton, but for his radical religious and political views. His
books were burnt and Hatzfeld was banished.
Hatzfeld’s story is a case study in how personal and social factors
could lead to radicalization. By following Hatzfeld’s footsteps, Geer-
lings opens a fascinating panorama of marginal intellectuals who
built perpetua mobilia and considered fermentation to be the driving

force of the universe, and of radical Wolfians, Aletophilen, Freemasons
and — to be sure — anti-Newtonians.
In Rob Iliffe’s article (chapter 2), the somewhat unfathomable figure
of Nicolas Fatio de Duiller leads us over the border of the United Prov-
inces. For a while Fatio held a unique position as a close collaborator of
both Christiaan Huygens and Isaac Newton, and seemed to be on the
brink of joining the ranks of the most prominent mathematicians and
natural philosophers. For a brief period of time he seems even to have
obtained Newton’s assent for taking care of a revised, second edition
of the Principia, in which Fatio would incorporate his own theory of
gravity. However, the close association with Newton and Huygens also
made it difficult for him to develop his own reputation in the commu-
nity of natural philosophers, and after the first years of the 1690s, he
12 gradually faded from view.
In contrast to the other articles in this volume, Iliffe’s contribution
addresses not the dissemination, but rather the genesis of Newton’s

ideas. His story describes the intriguing period directly after the pub-
lication of the Principia, in which its contents were widely discussed
and its main conclusions had not yet taken shape as the indisputable
laws of mechanics. This was also the period in which the controversy
between Newton and Leibniz about differential calculus started. In
both developments, Fatio and Huygens played a significant role. Also
in contrast to the other contributions in this book, we see in Iliffe’s
chapter the ‘real’ Newton in action. It is here that we finally meet a
person who can safely be considered as a Newtonian.
Between the English and the Dutch coast lies the North Sea. It is
often from this direction that dense fog penetrates the Netherlands.
Sometimes, in the patches of fog that move over the country, one can
recognize, with a little imagination, the figure of Isaac Newton, chas-
ing the ghost of Spinoza.
Note
1 We would like to thank Pete Langman and Nadine Akkerman, who came
up with the idea for this conference.
‘The Miracle of Our Time’

How Isaac Newton was fashioned in
the Netherlands
ERIC JORINK AND HUIB ZUIDERVAART
Introduction 13
It has more or less become a truism that the Dutch Republic played an
‘ T H E MIRAC L E OF O U R T I ME ’
important, not to say crucial, role in the spread of ‘Newtonianism’ in
Europe during the early eighteenth century.1 As Klaas van Berkel has
written:
It is partly or even mainly thanks to intellectual circles in the

Dutch Republic that Newton’s ideas were after all accepted in the
rest of Europe; Dutch scientists and Dutch manuals were respon-
sible for the spread of Newtonianism through Europe. For once,
the Netherlands was indeed the pivot of intellectual Europe.2
It is well known that in 1715 Herman Boerhaave (1668–1738), by far the

most famous professor of the Dutch Republic, was the first academic
to speak in public strongly in favour of Newton, calling him ‘the mir-
acle of our time’ and ‘the Prince of Geometricians’.3 In the very same
year, the mathematician and burgomaster Bernard Nieuwentijt (1654–
1718) published his Het regt gebruik der wereldbeschouwing (The Reli-
gious Philosopher: Or, the Right Use of Contemplating the Works of
the Creator), a work which would become extremely popular, both in
the Netherlands and abroad, and which made important references to
Newton.4 Het regt gebruik contributed much to the popularity of the
experimental natural philosophy, so characteristic of eighteenth-cen-
tury Dutch culture. Moreover, in 1715 a young journalist and lawyer
named Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande (1688–1742), travelled to London
as secretary to the Dutch ambassador. Here, he attended John Desa-

guliers’ lectures, made acquaintance with Newton and was elected
a Fellow of the Royal Society. Having tasted English ‘Newtonianism’,
in 1717 ’s Gravesande was appointed professor of mathematics and
astronomy at the famous University of Leiden. As such, he was in the
right position to preach the gospel of Newton. Three years later, in
1720, ’s Gravesande published his well-known Physices elementa math-
ematica, experimentis confirmata: sive introductio ad philosophiam
Newtonianam. In this work, ’s Gravesande gave a systematic account
of ‘Newtonian’ physics as he saw it. The work was an instant success,
going through many editions, translations and reprints. It was through
’s Gravesande’s handbook that his ‘Newtonianism’ was exported to
Britain. ’s Gravesande acquired such a reputation as an apostle of
Newton, that an ambitious young Voltaire came to Leiden in 1735 to
14 follow the professor’s lectures. Voltaire, already fascinated by Newton
and his natural philosophy, was by then working on his own Élémens
de la philosophie de Newton, to be published in Amsterdam in 1738.

For a long time, the sudden popularity of Newton in the Dutch
Republic seemed to need no explanation: ‘Newtonianism’ was seen
as the logical step, from ‘Aristotelianism’, via ‘Cartesianism’, towards
modern science. From this perspective, the introduction in 1715–1717
of Newtonian physics into the academic curriculum was inevitable.
In this article, we will argue that ‘Newtonianism’ is a rather problem-
atic term in the Dutch context. The success of Newton’s conception of
nature was not predetermined, nor was it self-evident. The philosoph-
ical concept named after the great Englishman was an elaboration of
an already existing tradition of empirical research, founded in Leid-
en in the early seventeenth century: Newton, as he was fashioned by
the Dutch, fitted nicely into this tradition. In 1715, in the context of the
Protestant Dutch Republic, Newton was modelled into a useful icon,
to combat the clergy’s growing fear of extreme rationalism. The emer-
gence of Dutch ‘Newtonianism’, and the popularity of Newton himself,
can only be understood in the light of the philosophical and theologi-
cal developments of the late seventeenth century. For that reason we
will present an outline of these developments. ‘Newtonianism’ in the
Dutch context was not an imported coherent system, waiting to be
implemented, but a philosophical — and to a certain extent social —
construction, created for and adapted to specific local problems and
circumstances.
Scientific culture in the Dutch Republic

In the mid-seventeenth century the young Dutch Republic had become
one of the most flourishing countries of early modern Europe, not only
in terms of commerce but also in terms of art, learning, science and
technology.5 During the Dutch Revolt many Protestants had fled the
Catholic South and started a new life in the North. This had far-reach-
ing consequences: while intellectual life in the sixteenth century had
been concentrated in the Southern Netherlands, especially in Antwerp
and Louvain, the emphasis now shifted to the North.6 The Amsterdam
region became a particular hub of trade, traffic and technology, draw-
ing not only Protestant refugees from the Spanish Netherlands, but
also many Scandinavians and Germans who escaped the Thirty Years’
War, as well as Sephardic Jews and (later in the seventeenth century)
French Huguenots. This mixture of persons, ideas and goods provided
a fertile soil for the exchange and creation of knowledge. In a recent 15
volume, Sven Dupré and Christoph Lüthy state:
the ‘circulation of knowledge’ was perhaps nowhere as
intense as in the early modern Low Countries, and this had to
do as much with the circulation of scholars which was, in the
Carrefour de la République des Lettres, particularly lively, as
with the extraordinary nodal points that cities like [first] Ant-
werp and [later] Amsterdam represented in the international
exchange of goods, news, and skills.7
Lacking an older scholastic tradition, the newly founded Protestant

universities of the North, especially those of Leiden (established in
1575) and Utrecht (established in 1636) could be more innovative than
most of the older universities. They attracted many students, pro-
fessors and visitors from abroad. To give a few examples: the Leiden
medical faculty improved upon the new approach introduced by the
Italian universities in the sixteenth century. A theatrum anatomicum
was established in 1590, as well as a hortus botanicus in 1594, both sup-
ported by huge collections of curiosities. In 1634 the university found-
ed an astronomical observatory (the first of its kind in Europe) and
clinical teaching started two years later, becoming famous through-
out Europe during the professorship of the iatro-chemist Francis de
le Boë Sylvius (1614–1672). Up to the era of Boerhaave (1668–1738),
Leiden’s medical faculty was considered the best in Europe, attracting
many students from all over the Continent.8 An empirical approach

towards the investigation of nature thus lay deeply rooted in the aca-
demic curriculum.
An important factor was the religious context of scientific dis-
course and practice. The Northern Netherlands was a striking exam-
ple of religious pluriformity. The most powerful denomination was
the Reformed (Gereformeerde or Contra-remonstrant) Church, which
was, however, not the largest in terms of membership; it contained
several currents, ranging from the Puritan-like orthodoxy of the influ-
ential Utrecht professor of theology Gisbertus Voetius (1589–1676), to
the more liberal followers of his Leiden colleague Johannes Cocceius
(1603–1669). Although the Reformed Church was never to acquire the
status of a state religion in the young Republic, and was in fact just
one of the many denominations in the religious landscape, it was priv-
16 ileged, and those who held public office (including university profes-
sors) were required to subscribe to its doctrines. Besides the Reformed
Church there existed a stunning variety of denominations, such as the

Remonstrants, Mennonites, Huguenots, Lutherans, Jews, and all kinds
of sects, such as Collegiants, Millenarians, Quakers, Labadists and
Borelists. Moreover, there was a large Catholic minority. Two things
are of importance here: first, that the religious pluriformity of the
North stimulated theological, philosophical and scientific debates;
and, second, that the largely Protestant culture of the North had a
strong undercurrent of natural theology which, in turn, encouraged
an open eye towards God’s creation. The notion of the Book of Nature,
that is to say, the idea that Creation was the second revelation of God
next to the Bible, was of great influence. Important in this respect is
the so-called ‘Belgic Confession’ of 1561, a document that formed the
basis of the orthodox Reformed Church in the Dutch Republic. Article
II, in the edition of 1619, runs:
We know him [God] by two means. First, by the creation,

preservation, and government of the universe, since that
universe is before our eyes like a beautiful book in which all
creatures, great and small, are as letters to make us ponder the
invisible things of God: his eternal power and his divinity, as the
Apostle Paul says in Romans 1:20. All these things are enough
to convict men and to leave them without excuse. Second,
he makes himself known to us more openly by his holy and
divine word, as much as we need in this life, for his glory and
for the salvation of his own.9
Since nature was God’s creation, the study of nature was an enterprise
with strong religious connotations. The order of nature as a whole, as
well as the existence of each and every individual creature, was seen
as the manifestation of God, the almighty Architect. This principle was
invoked by those who advocated empiricism.
Of similar importance in this respect was René Descartes (1596–
1650), who lived in the Dutch Republic from 1628 to 1649. His revo-
lutionary new philosophy, as outlined in the Discours de la méthode
(published in Leiden in 1637), was embraced from the start by some
university professors from Utrecht and Leiden.10 To Dutch profes-
sors of the (higher) faculty of medicine and the (lower, propaedeu-
tic) faculty of philosophy, Descartes’ rationalism and his geometrical, 17
mechanistic approach towards nature, seemed an all-encompassing
alternative to the increasingly problematic philosophy of Aristotle. It
was within a Cartesian context that new hypotheses, such as Nico-
laus Copernicus’ heliocentric theory (De revolutionibus orbium coeles-
tium, 1543) and William Harvey’s theory of the circulation of the blood
(De motu cordis, 1628) were debated and — after fierce opposition by
orthodox theologians — gradually accepted.11 The work of Christiaan
Huygens (1629–1695), by far the greatest mathematician and nat-
ural philosopher of the Dutch Golden Age, is unthinkable without
Descartes (although he developed an increasingly sceptical attitude
towards the Frenchman’s work).12
However, in the eyes of orthodox theologians and philosophers,
Descartes’ philosophy threatened to destroy old certainties. Descartes
not only offered a new natural philosophy, but a new epistemology
and metaphysics as well. Cartesian doubt seemed to open the gate to
scepticism and even to atheism. Cartesian physics seemed to presup-
pose God as a distant engineer and, probably worst of all, Cartesian
rationalism implied that all of God’s creation could be explained and
understood. In 1642, the orthodox party, led by Voetius, started a long
and bitter campaign against the New Philosophy. Although Cartesian-
ism was twice officially banned from the Universities of Leiden and
Utrecht, it was never threatened seriously. The universities’ curators
tried to effect a peaceful coexistence between the two sides, alternate-
ly appointing Cartesians and Aristotelians to the chairs of medicine,
philosophy and even theology. Nevertheless, the relations remained

strained.
The orthodox Voetians saw their worst nightmare come true, when
in 1670 Benedictus Spinoza (1632–1676) anonymously published his
Tractatus theologico-politicus. Spinoza, amongst other things, drew the
Cartesian notion of the immutable laws of nature to its logical conclu-
sion: God was bound by his own laws and the Biblical miracles could
thus never have happened. The Bible was not God’s revelation to man,
nor the key to nature’s secrets, but only the history of a certain tribe
in the Middle East. In the Ethica (published posthumously in 1678),
Spinoza advocated at length the absolute certainties offered by the
geometrical method. By now, to the orthodox clergy, rationalism and
mathematics seemed the source of atheism and hence of all evil in the
world. The problem was not only that Spinoza was seen as irreligious,
18 since he postulated that God and Nature were identical (the notorious
Deus sive Natura), but that he claimed his atheistic ideas to be based
on absolute mathematical certainty.

This was what rationalism would inevitably lead to: an attack on the
authority of Scripture. Spinoza’s philosophy was abhorred by nearly
all of his contemporaries, who were convinced that rationalism and
the geometrical method would inevitably lead to atheism. In the eyes
of many Dutchmen, Spinoza reaped the harvest that Descartes had
sown. The Leiden Reformed consistory noted with disgust that the
Opera posthuma ‘perhaps since the beginning of the World until the
present day [...] surpasses all others in godlessness and endeavours
to do away with all religion and set godlessness on the throne’.13 The
Leiden city council and the governing body of the university decided
that, since the Opera paved the way for ‘an absolute atheism’, the book
was to be banned immediately, all copies sold were to be confiscat-
ed and burned, and the owners fined.14 After ample deliberations, the
book was banned by the States of Holland for containing ‘very many
profane, blasphemous, and atheistic propositions’.15
Besides the contents of Spinoza’s philosophy, there was also a force
at work that can be called the personal factor. While earlier philoso-
phers such as Aristotle, Francis Bacon (1551–1621) and even Descartes
were only vaguely associated with real persons, the memory of the
‘most horrible of atheists’, the ‘apostate Jew’, the ‘destroyer of Chris-
tianity’ remained much alive during the eighteenth century. Pierre
Bayle (1647–1706), ‘le philosophe de Rotterdam’, included an entry on
Spinoza in his famous Dictionaire historique et critique (first edition

1697; in later editions this entry was expanded), which was immedi-
ately issued as a separate treatise in Dutch, Het leeven van B. De Spi-
noza, met eenige aanteekeningen over zyn bedrijf, schriften, en gevoelens
(1698).16 On the basis of thorough research, the Lutheran minister
Johannes Colerus (1647–1707) published his short biography of Spi-
noza in 1705.17 Although both writers vehemently rejected Spinoza’s
system, they had to admit that the philosopher had lived like a saint:
modest, peaceful, abstemious. This image was endorsed by Spinoza’s
correspondence, first published in the banned Opera posthuma (1678),
and available to a wide audience through the translation published
in De boekzaal van Europe in 1705. Spinoza really presented the most
pressing intellectual problem of the later seventeenth and early eight-
eenth century.18
19
Newton enters the stage
It was against this background that Newton entered the Dutch intel-
lectual sphere. The first serious attention given to Newton in the
Netherlands followed the publication of ‘An Accompt of a New Cata-
dioptrical Telescope’ in the Philosophical Transactions of March 1672.
Very few Dutchmen were able to read English at that time, but the
invention was also discussed in the Journal des sçavans, an edition of
which was published in Amsterdam in 1673. It was Christiaan Huy-
gens who had been personally responsible for the French analysis.
Already in January 1672 Huygens was informed of Newton’s invention,
in a letter by Henry Oldenburg (c. 1618–1677), the secretary of the Royal
Society. Huygens immediately informed Jean Gallois, the editor of the
Journal des sçavans, of this remarkable new kind of telescope.19 Short-
ly afterwards, in March 1672, Oldenburg sent Huygens Newton’s ‘New
Theory about Light and Colours’, which was published in the current
issue of the Philosophical Transactions.20 Again Huygens gave a positive
response. In July 1672 Huygens wrote to Oldenburg that he appreciated
the ‘colour hypothesis of Mr. Newton’, and although the ‘Experimen-
tum crucis’ was a bit obscure in its presentation, he understood that
it underscored Newton’s new optical theory.21 Newton’s invention and
his new theory of light prompted Huygens, a skilled lens-grinder who
had constructed telescopes and discovered the rings of Saturn, to fol-
low Newton’s work intensely; it had the same effect on lesser minds.22
Dutch reactions to the first edition of Newton’s Principia (1687)

The publication of Newton’s Principia in 1687 aroused great attention
in the Netherlands, but only among a small minority. It is well known
that Huygens received a copy from the author, studied the book inten-
sively, and discussed its contents with Nicolas Fatio de Duillier (1664–
1753). ‘I wish to be in Oxford’, Huygens wrote to his brother, ‘just to
meet Mr. Newton, for I greatly admire the beautiful inventions that
I find in the book he sent me’.23 Huygens was much impressed by the
book, although he did not subscribe to its main idea: the theory of
universal gravitation. To Huygens, still working within what might be
called a Cartesian framework, the concept seemed to bring back qual-
ities such as occult powers and hidden properties. Newton’s theory
just seemed ‘absurd’.24 Nevertheless, Huygens appreciated the mathe-
matical ingenuity of the Principia, and he recommended the book to
20 the influential Amsterdam burgomaster Johannes Hudde (1628–1704),
one of the very few other Dutchmen able to follow Newton’s calcula-
tions.25 As Rob Iliffe describes in this volume, Huygens remained for

some years in close contact with Newton, using Fatio de Duillier as a
go-between.
A third important Dutch intellectual to be acquainted with the
Principia at a very early stage was the Leiden professor of philoso-
phy Burchardus de Volder (1643–1709).26 De Volder, a close friend of
Huygens and Hudde, personally met Newton as early as 1674, when
he visited England. He was much impressed by Boyle’s and Hooke’s
experiments performed at the Royal Society. Back home in Leiden,
and with the approval as well as the financial support of the Leiden
curators, he started a theatrum physicum in which he used a Boylian
air-pump to illustrate his lectures. Leiden University was the first in
Europe to provide such facilities for experimental philosophy. Cam-
bridge (where Newton had lectured from 1669 to 1701) followed in 1707,
while Paris had to wait until 1751. But as pioneering as it was, De Vold-
er’s initiative fitted neatly into the long-standing empirical tradition
in Leiden that had begun with the hortus botanicus and the theatrum
anatomicum. Tellingly, the curators approved De Volder’s request in
the hope that ‘many students from other universities and academies
will be lured hither’ by his often spectacular demonstrations.27 By way
of these demonstrative experiments, De Volder (and his lesser-known
colleague, Wolferd Senguerd, 1646–1724) created a fertile ground for
the blossoming of eighteenth-century experimental physics.
Although De Volder also had the privilege of receiving an author’s

copy of Newton’s Principia, he never became an advocate for the
work’s theories. De Volder’s experimental method was evidently
inspired by Boyle, not by Newton. Much like his friend Huygens, De
Volder admired the mathematical side of Newton’s work, but he only
mentioned Newton in passing during his academic career.28
This was not the case in the lectures of the Scotsman Archibald Pit-
cairn (1654–1713), a friend and early follower of Newton, who in 1692
was appointed professor of medicine in Leiden. However, he left this
post within a year. Although it is suggested that Pitcairn had an impact
on a number of Scottish students who had followed his Leiden lec-
tures, there is no hard evidence that he gained any Dutch followers.29
There are other indications that the Leiden academic commu-
nity had little interest in Newton’s book. In 1687 the influential Lei-
den bookseller Pieter van der Aa (1659–1733) received twelve copies 21
of the Principia in commission from Newton’s publisher in London,
with the explicit intention of selling them on the Dutch market and
at the Frankfurt book fair. But after two years of prudence Van der
Aa returned the seven copies that still remained in stock.30 Through
the purchase of the famous library of Isaac Vossius (1618–1689), Lei-
den University acquired a copy of the Principia as early as 1690, but
it took twelve years before the collection could be consulted.31 Even
in 1711 the Leiden professor in chemistry, Jacobus le Mort (1650–1718),
ridiculed Newton’s concept of universal attraction.32 So before 1715, in
academic circles, Newton was admired as a mathematician, but not
as a physicist.
Amsterdam mathematical enthusiasts

As Rienk Vermij has shown, the earliest Dutch admirers of Newton
were not to be found among university professors, but among an infor-
mal group of Amsterdam mathematicians in the 1690s.33 In the Dutch
Republic, a lively intellectual culture existed, including many informal
clubs where philosophical, religious and scientific ideas were debat-
ed. In the mid-seventeenth century most Dutch cities had a theatrum
anatomicum, which not only served for a medical education, but were
also used as cultural convergence points: places where a library was
formed, natural history specimens were collected and intellectual dis-
cussion was possible.34 And there were other forms of intellectual life
too. To name a few examples: a group of early followers of Spinoza held
weekly meetings in the 1660s; in the same period the research-oriented

Collegium Privatum Amstelodamense was founded, which focussed
on comparative anatomy and included John Locke (1632–1704) dur-
ing his stay in Amsterdam. In the 1690s the Haarlem-based Collegi-
um Physicum discussed problems from the post-Cartesian textbook
by Jacques Rohault (1618–1672), performing experiments and arguing
with congenial enthusiasts from elsewhere, such as the Amsterdam
Mennonite merchant Lambert ten Kate Hermansz (1674–1731) and the
Rotterdam Quaker Benjamin Furly (1636–1714).35
The group of Amsterdam mathematicians seemed to have includ-
ed a broker named Jacob Makreel, a Mennonite merchant named
Adriaan Verwer (c. 1655–1717), and the physician, mathematician and
regent Bernard Nieuwentijt, who lived in nearby Purmerend.36 The
group was interested not only in mathematics, but in philosophical
22 and religious themes as well. They had many foreign contacts, includ-
ing George Cheyne (1671–1743) and David Gregory (1659–1708), who
kept them informed on British affairs. For example, Nieuwentijt, who

was working on infinite series, learned from Gregory that Newton had
already published on this topic (apparently this concerned the pieces
included in John Wallis’ Algebra of 1685). In 1694 and 1695 Nieuwen-
tijt published two mathematical tracts on the brand new calculus,
the Considerationes and the Analysis infinitorum, in which he rejected
Leibniz’s approach to the subject, but praised Newton, referring sev-
eral times to lemmas from the book of ‘this illustrious author’, iden-
tified later on as the Principia.37 So the Amsterdam group apparently
discussed Newton’s Principia at an early stage, and one wonders if
its members were among the buyers of the five copies that Van der
Aa had sold. Nieuwentijt considered Newton to be the greatest living
mathematician, while Verwer embraced the universal law of gravita-
tion. However, this support for Newton was strongly stimulated by
ulterior motives.
The pious Verwer, an active member of the Amsterdam Mennonite
congregation Het Lam en de Toren (The Lamb and the Tower), was
typical of the many Dutchmen who sought God outside the bound-
aries defined by the orthodoxy of the Reformed Church.38 Although
Verwer as far as we know had no academic training, he knew Latin,
was a skilled mathematician and maritime expert, and studied his-
tory, religion, philosophy and linguistics. He vehemently rejected
the Spinozist conception of God and Nature. Already in 1683, he had
published a refutation of Spinoza’s Ethics, namely ’t Mom-aensicht der

atheistery afgerukt (Atheism Unmasked). Throughout his life, he con-
tinued to seek proof of non-natural and non-material forces in Crea-
tion, which he evidently found in the work of Newton.39 Verwer’s copy
of the Principia, now in Utrecht University Library, contains his manu-
script notes.40 In his Inleiding tot de christelyke gods-geleertheid (Intro-
duction to Christian Theology, 1698), Verwer explicitly referred to the
Principia to prove that the elliptical shape of a planet’s orbit would be
impossible ‘without the interception of a Governor, who exists outside
these things’.41 Elsewhere in his book, Verwer used Newton’s formula
for the inverse square law to give the mathematical proof that ‘eternal
happiness is proportional to good works, and inversely proportional
to divine grace’.42
Anti-Spinozism was also to become a life-long concern for Nieuwen-
tijt, who in 1715 and (posthumously) in 1720 would publish two books 23
explicitly directed against the ‘ungodly philosopher’, namely Het regt
gebruik der wereldbeschouwingen, ter overtuiginge van ongodisten en
ongelovigen (translated into English by John Chamberlayne as The
Religious Philosopher: Or, the Right Use of Contemplating the Works of
the Creator in 1718) and Gronden van zekerheid [...] ter wederlegging van
Spinoza’s denkbeeldig samenstel (Grounds of Certainty [...] Intended to
Refute Spinoza’s Imaginary System).
The main objections of Verwer and Nieuwentijt to Spinoza were
that he did not believe in God as the Almighty Creator, but only in
blind fate and chance and, moreover, that he undermined Christian
faith by claiming absolute mathematical certainty. Both Verwer and
Nieuwentijt sought to do the opposite, i.e. to strengthen Christianity
on the basis of mathematical arguments. And it was here that Newton
was put to use. The Englishman was seen as a brilliant mathematician
of unimpeachable conduct. But more importantly, Newton made a
clear distinction between pure and applied mathematics. Mathemat-
ics was essential for the study of nature, but only when mathematical
reasoning was tested by experience could one say that mathematics
had anything to do with reality.43 This was crucial for Verwer and Nieu-
wentijt. In his Gronden van zekerheid the latter used this distinction to
tackle Spinoza’s claim to mathematical truth. Moreover, Newton was
very clear about the place of God as the ultimate ruler of the universe.
The metaphysical nature of gravity underscored this picture of Newton
as a real Christian mathematician. Newton’s work seemed to provide
an uncontested basis for a truly Christian natural philosophy. Newton

saved, so to speak, the mechanical way of reasoning, from the atheistic
spell of Descartes and Spinoza.44 Thus, in the wake of the publication
of the first edition of the Principia, a small group in the Netherlands
created an image of Newton which presented him not just as a pious
mathematician, but as a philosopher whose message was relevant to
the whole of Christianity. It was these aspects that set the stage for
Newton’s later success in the Dutch Republic.45 Without this aura, he
would never have been so influential.
Jean Le Clerc
This pious fashioning of Newton would have been impossible if his
anti-Trinitarian tract, An Historical Account of Two Notable Corrup-
tions of Scripture, which he had sent to Locke in the early 1690s, had
24 been printed by the Amsterdam publisher Jean Le Clerc (1657–1736).
This Swiss Huguenot had to flee from his native Geneva because of his
unorthodox ideas and subsequently earned a living in Amsterdam as a

journalist and professor of theology at the Remonstrant seminary. For
a few months, Newton favoured the idea of allowing Le Clerc to pub-
lish a Latin or French translation of his Historical Account, but then he
withdrew it.46
As is now well known, Newton spent much of his time on biblical
criticism, millenarian prophecies and alchemy. Only a small circle
knew of Newton’s heterodox ideas. But in the wake of the Principia,
he seriously considered publishing some of his religious works. In the
Historical Account, Newton argued that the dogma of the holy Trinity
had no foundation in Scripture, and that the biblical passages 1 John
5.7 (the ‘Johannine comma’) and 1 Timothy 3.16 were corrupt. Le Clerc’s
copy, written in Locke’s hand, went missing. The work was finally pub-
lished in 1754.47 Had Le Clerc published it in the 1690s, Newton would
have had a lifelong reputation among the Dutch for propagating unor-
thodox, if not heretical, ideas, putting him firmly in the camp of free-
thinkers and atheists, with Isaac la Peyrère (1596–1676), Isaac Vossius
and Spinoza.48
Le Clerc, who was a personal friend of Verwer, would serve the
‘Newtonian case’ in other ways.49 He edited the Bibliothèque univer-
selle, which was the only Dutch-issued journal to publish a review of
Newton’s Principia. The review was printed anonymously in 1688, but
was in fact written by Locke, who lived in the Dutch Republic from
1684 to 1688, and would have a notable impact on the intellectual life
of the Netherlands.50 Other Dutch journals, such as Pierre Bayle’s Nou-
velles de la République des Lettres, completely ignored the Principia.
Given Locke’s review, Le Clerc must have had a basic idea of the Prin-
cipia. But like Verwer, he was rather eclectic. When in 1696 he wrote a
textbook on physics, he just repeated the views of several authors on
various subjects, including a brief account of Newton’s theory of gravi-
ty, which he used to repudiate the Cartesian vortices, although he still
interpreted gravity in a corpuscular way.51 Evidently Le Clerc accepted
Newton’s way of mathematical reasoning, without giving it credit as
an accurate picture of reality.
The Amsterdam scholar would again pay attention to Newton’s
work after the 1706 Latin edition of Newton’s Opticks, a work whose
somewhat neglected reception in the Netherlands is addressed by
Rina Knoeff and Fokko Jan Dijksterhuis in this volume. Le Clerc was 25
one of the few in the Republic to review the Opticks. It is tempting
to see a connection between the enthusiasm for Newton among
the Amsterdam amateurs and the ‘Newtonian’ edition of Rohault’s
famous textbook on physics, issued in 1708 by the Amsterdam pub-
lisher Johannes Wolters.52 At first sight Rohault’s work was a manual
on Cartesian physics, but in 1696 — and again in 1702 — the English
Newtonian Samuel Clarke had produced an edition with very exten-
sive notes, adding many references to the Principia. In fact, before 1713
this annotated Rohault edition was for many scholars the first intro-
duction to Newton’s way of physical reasoning.53
During these years Le Clerc’s enthusiasm for Newton increased. In
1690, he called Newton ‘this great mathematician’ and in 1706 ‘one of
the greatest mathematicians that ever lived’. But he really became a
Newtonian after reading the second edition of the Principia, published
in Cambridge in 1713. In a review in his new journal Bibliothèque anci-
enne et moderne he called Newton without reservations ‘the greatest
mathematician the world has ever seen’.54 According to Le Clerc, it
was Newton who gave the coup de grâce to materialistic and atheistic
speculations. As Vermij has noted, ‘upon reading the second edition
of the Principia Le Clerc apparently came to realize the full impact of
Newton’s ideas’.55 In his review he focused mainly on Roger Cotes’ pref-
ace and on the new ‘Scholium’, the two additions which were so suc-
cessful in giving the highly abstract book a more philosophical twist.
Le Clerc was a sworn enemy of Descartes’ materialism and of Spino-
za’s conception of nature, and now he realized that Newton stipulat-

ed that the universe was governed by a force — gravitation — which
could not be explained in any mechanical way. This anti-materialistic
approach was exactly what he needed. The law of universal gravita-
tion described with mathematical precision what happened in the
heavens, but its nature was evidently metaphysical. It therefore pro-
vided the ultimate proof of God’s existence. In 1715, in the introduction
to a series of reviews of works by other British scholars, like George
Cheyne, John Ray and William Derham, Le Clerc added that Newton’s
principles:
show that it is impossible that the world has been made, and
remains in its present state, by purely mechanical forces and
movements. This leads us to recognise that there is a fully
26 immaterial God, who is the creator of the world. [...] This is
quite different from the principles of Descartes, who believed
that it sufficed for God to have given motion to matter just

once to see everything in the world, or at least everything
material, come forth from it.56
For the Dutch scholars Newton had published the second edition of
his book at the right time. He entered the stage at a moment when
the discontent with Cartesian physics and Spinozist rationalism was
mounting. In other words, Newton became so successful not because
he was right, but because he was useful. In the Dutch context, his
work was increasingly considered as much more than a physical the-
ory, but as the incontestable basis of a Christian philosophy of nature.
Inspired by Cotes’ foreword to the Principia and the remarks in the
Scholium, the book was no longer seen as a rather abstruse hypotheti-
cal description of the world system, but as a major achievement in
natural philosophy. Dutch culture at this time showed a preoccupa-
tion with mathematicians and the problem of certainty, as well as with
atheism, and ‘Newtonianism’ was now presented as the answer to all
these problems.
The pirated Amsterdam edition of the 1713 Cambridge version

of the Principia
As is well known, the real triumph of Newton on the Continent start-
ed with the second edition of the Principia.57 The Cambridge edition
was published in May 1713, and according to a list personally made by

Isaac Newton, probably some seventy copies were distributed as pres-
entation copies, among which were four for the university libraries in
Leiden, Utrecht, Franeker and Groningen.58
Bearing in mind that, among the group of scientific enthusiasts in
Amsterdam, Newton was seen as an anti-atheistic and trustworthy
guide to a new handling and study of nature, we can now understand
better why within a few months after the second Cambridge edition
of the Principia, a pirated version was printed, with a new typeface
and re-engraved plates, in the city. In the Newtonian scholarship little
attention is given to this Amsterdam edition, which appeared first in
1714, and was reprinted in 1723 in a slightly expanded version (fig. 1).59
A closer look at these two pirated editions reveals some intriguing
facts, relevant to a better understanding of the reception of Newton
in the Republic. 27
The Amsterdam edition was announced in July/August 1713 in a new
Dutch-issued journal in French, the Journal littéraire de La Haye. The
anonymous journalist wrote that this reprint was to be published by
a company of booksellers (‘une compagnie des libraires’) and would
be based on the second edition of the Principia which had just been
Fig. 1 & 2: The two Amsterdam reprints of Newton’s Principia, issued by an

‘anonymous’ Amsterdam publisher, using the device Vis unita major (The
united force is greater).
published in England (‘qui vient de paroître en Angleterre’).60 Obvi-

ously, the editors of the Journal were very well informed about events
both in England and in Amsterdam. It soon turned out that the pirat-
ed edition was issued as a joint venture of at least ten Amsterdam
booksellers and printers, using the device Vis unita major (The unit-
ed force is greater). This company was founded in 1711 in response to
an agreement between 54 book publishers from Amsterdam, Leiden,
The Hague, Rotterdam and Utrecht, in an attempt to regulate the book
trade. The pirating of foreign books was also discussed in this com-
pact, which in some cases would be an enterprise only to be tolerated
if it was a concerted action, with a shared profit.61
In regard to the Principia the obvious question is: why would such
a large group of booksellers expect a profit from the illegal issue of a
just-reprinted difficult book, the sales of whose first edition of 250–400
28 copies had been notoriously poor? Why did they expect to profit from
this investment? And who took the initiative for this costly enterprise
— with an estimated print run of 750 copies — and for what reasons?62
As we will outline below, the 1714 Amsterdam reprint coincided with
a Newtonian offensive not only by Le Clerc, but also by Boerhaave,
Nieuwentijt, ’s Gravesande and the versatile scholar Lambert ten Kate.
As Meindert Evers has already remarked in a survey of Newton’s recep-
tion in one of Le Clerc’s journals, it seemed that this was a konzertierte
Aktion: a coordinated action to put Newton firmly on the map, as well
as on the market.63 The truth of this claim remains a matter of specula-
tion, but it cannot be disputed that within three years of the launch of
the second edition, many Dutch professors and non-academics, both
in Latin and in the vernacular, strongly spoke out in favour of Newton
and his method. So let us examine the Amsterdam reprint in greater
detail. Who might have been involved in it?
Let us start with the announcement in the Journal littéraire of July/
August 1713. This journal had been started just a few months before
by Thomas Johnson, a Scottish bookseller whose shop in The Hague
was a centre for British citizens residing in Holland. It was probably
Johnson who organized a steady correspondent for the Journal littérai-
re in London, in the person of Pierre des Maizeaux (c. 1666–1745), a
Huguenot and an acquaintance of Le Clerc.64 In 1720 Des Maizeaux
would also edit the Amsterdam edition of the famous Leibniz-Clarke
correspondence on the priority dispute with Newton in regard to the
invention of differential calculus.65 Since 1708 Johnson had maintained
close contacts with the Amsterdam publisher Jean-Louis de Lorme

(one of Le Clerc’s main publishers), who (until his departure to France
in 1711) provided him — as the only bookseller in The Hague — with a
copy of all the ‘livres étrangers’ published in Amsterdam.66 After 1711
De Lorme’s role as Le Clerc’s publisher and probably also as Johnson’s
provider of foreign books was taken over by the brothers Rudolf and
Gerard Wetstein.67 This publishing company participated in the Vis
unita major book company that would publish the Principia. So it is
evident that information, both from the English edition of the Prin-
cipia and from the Amsterdam initiative, came together in The Hague.
Then there was the editorial board of the Journal littéraire. At its
very start in 1713 the journal was run by two Dutch Huguenots, Albert
Henri de Sallengre (1694–1723) and Thémiseul de Saint Hyacinthe
(1684–1746), together with two genuine Dutchmen, Justus van Effen
(1684–1734) and Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande. As Ad Maas describes 29
in his contribution to this volume, in later years ’s Gravesande would
become the most influential figure in spreading the fame of Newton
and systematizing a natural philosophy he called ‘Newtonianism’.
But in 1713 ’s Gravesande was still working as a lawyer in The Hague,
having finished his education at Leiden University in 1707, where he
had matriculated in the faculty of law three years before. However,
’s Gravesande had been interested in mathematics, physics, ethics and
philosophy for a long time and during his student years he even wrote
a work, Essai de perspective, which was published in The Hague in 1711.
There he became one of the founders of the Journal littéraire (1713).
Most likely, it was ’s Gravesande who was the editor responsible for the
many articles devoted to physics and mathematics.68 Generally, the
Journal took a leading role in propagating books on natural theolo-
gy, such as Derham’s Physico-theology, with the explicit aim of refuting
atheism.69
We know for certain that ’s Gravesande was acquainted with Ber-
nard Nieuwentijt, who was directly related to the Amsterdam mathe-
maticians. Contacts between Nieuwentijt and ’s Gravesande date back
to 1712, when the latter made a calculation on the ratio of the number
of newborn boys and girls, a piece which Nieuwentijt would include in
his aforementioned book, Het regt gebruik.70 This bestseller was pub-
lished in 1715 by the widow of Johannes Wolters, together with her son
from an earlier marriage, Joannes Pauli. They too were participants in
the Amsterdam Vis unita major company that brought the Principia
Fig. 3: Jean Le Clerc,

together with Willem
Jacob ’s Gravesande, the
main constructor of Dutch
‘Newtonianism’.
30
into print. As a matter of fact, in Het regt gebruik some vignettes are
exactly identical to those used in the pirated edition of the Principia.71
When we combine these facts with a statement made in 1722 in a
letter by Nicolaas Struyck (1687–1769), an Amsterdam mathematician
with close connections to the Amsterdam Vis unita major publishing
consortium, the identities of the actors responsible for the Amsterdam
Newton editions becomes more clear.72 To one of his correspondents
Struyck remarked that he had found some printing errors in his own
1714 Amsterdam copy of Newton’s Principia, which faults he would
report to ‘Professor ’s Gravesande, who is here supervising a third edi-
tion’.73 Obviously this was not a statement concerning the genuine
third London edition, issued by Cotes in 1726, but rather the second
Amsterdam printing of the Principia. This edition with a new typeface
was issued in 1723. Moreover, this second Amsterdam printing would
become the only version in which Newton’s wish to include four small
mathematical tracts was fulfilled. Who else than a person with close
contacts to Newton could be aware of this wish of the great ‘Master’?74

With this knowledge in mind, it seems plausible that a collective effort
of Le Clerc, ’s Gravesande and, perhaps, Nieuwentijt, was the driving
force behind the Amsterdam printing of 1714. ’s Gravesande probably
played the same role at the second extended print run of 1723.
Putting Sir Isaac on the shield: The construction of an anti-

atheistic Dutch ‘Newtonianism’
In early 1715 Jean Le Clerc contributed to the ‘new’ Newtonian offen-
sive by including in his Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne a French
translation of large parts of a book by the British ‘Newtonian’ George
Cheyne, entitled Philosophical Principles of Natural Religion (London
1705). In this publication Le Clerc again pointed to ‘the most sublime
and very important truths’ that Newton had discovered.75 Based on Le
Clerc’s lengthy summary in the Bibliothèque, the aforementioned Lam- 31
bert ten Kate soon made a loose Dutch translation, to which he added
extensive personal remarks.76 Like his close friend Verwer, Ten Kate
had a Mennonite background. As a well-to-do citizen, he could spend
most of his time as a virtuoso, studying history, the arts, linguistics,
philosophy and the natural sciences. Ten Kate certainly used Newton’s
thoughts on religion to promote scientific interest among the Dutch.
The long title of his adaptation of Cheyne, published in 1716, leaves
little doubt as to Ten Kate’s interests: Den Schepper en Zyn bestier te
kennen in Zyne schepselen (To Know the Creator from His Creatures,
According to the Light of Reason and Mathematics, [written] to Cul-
tivate a Respectful Religion; to Destroy the Basis of Atheism; and for
an Orthodox Use of Philosophy).77 According to Ten Kate, all scientif-
ic research should be subservient to a better understanding of divine
Revelation. In the introduction of his book, Ten Kate underlined the
fact that Descartes’ mechanical philosophy led to Spinoza’s system.
However, both philosophers had neglected experience and experi-
ments, and had abused mathematics, ‘but some distinguished men
in England, who disliked the uncertainties of hypotheses, have based
themselves only on a Philosophia Experimentalis, by means of mathe-
matics’.78 The success of this approach was demonstrated by ‘the most
famous mathematician Newton’ who had discovered the law of grav-
itation, thereby eliminating the dangers of philosophy and putting
mathematics at the basis of religion: ‘Sir Newton gave such a mathe-
matical account of Nature, that man cannot but see God’s hand in the
appearances (as Professor Cotes justly states in the second edition of

Newton’s work)’.79
Le Clerc was very pleased with Ten Kate’s work. It was the only book
in Dutch ever to be reviewed in the Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne.
In their approval of Newton’s method, Le Clerc and Ten Kate were
followed by Herman Boerhaave. The Leiden professor, without any
doubt the most famous Dutch scholar of his time, was the first aca-
demic to speak publicly in Newton’s favour.80 The occasion on which
Boerhaave delivered his Sermo academicus de comparando certo in
physicis was highly symbolic and without doubt deliberately chosen.
It was on 8 February 1715, the 140th anniversary of Leiden Universi-
ty, and the day Boerhaave resigned as Rector Magnificus. Instead of
addressing a medical subject, Boerhaave raised his eloquent voice to
make a bold statement that concerned the members of all faculties.
32 Since physics was essentially the study of God’s creation, the meth-
od followed was of relevance to Christian society as a whole. In plain
language, Boerhaave rejected the speculations by Descartes and the

dangerous pretensions by some ungodly mathematicians, i.e. the Spi-
nozists. Instead, he advocated the method of Newton, ‘the miracle of
our time’, ‘he who deserves everywhere to be honoured as the lead-
ing figure’, ‘the Prince of Geometricians’.81 It was only through New-
ton’s method that certainty was to be achieved: ‘Everything that has
been discovered in physics by geometricians through deduction from
observation stands with such unshaken truth that not a single mortal
has any doubt on these points — whereas fictions soon collapse and
show their true nature’.82 Although some orthodox Cartesians, such
as the Franeker professor of philosophy Ruardus Andala (1665–1727),
protested vehemently, it was clear that the intellectual climate was
changing.83 As Rina Knoeff notes in her contribution to this volume,
Boerhaave himself, after his programmatic and highly political ora-
tion, never introduced Newton’s ideas into his courses, nor paid much
attention to the Englishman. This only reinforces the impression that
Boerhaave’s outburst in favour of Newton was part of a coordinated
action.
To be sure, only a few months later, Bernard Nieuwentijt published
his Het regt gebruik der wereldbeschouwingen, which was an explicit
attack on Spinoza. In this book Nieuwentijt pointed out how sound
scientific principles demonstrate the wisdom and power of the Crea-
tor. Science was here mainly understood as experimental physics and
Nieuwentijt often referred to Newton’s Principia (both the first and

second editions). However, Nieuwentijt, who maintained a literal read-
ing of the Bible, was somewhat cautious in praising Newton’s system
too much, since this implied that he had to speak out in favour of the
heliocentric system. Nevertheless, according to Nieuwentijt, Newton
was to be counted among the greatest philosophers of his age, whose
work demolished the system of Spinoza. Nieuwentijt’s work immedi-
ately became a bestseller. The book went through eight editions and
would inspire many Dutchmen to write and publish books with a sim-
ilar approach.84
’s Gravesande’s career switch

Thus, within two years, an academic audience as well as a more gen-
eral public was instructed on how the dangers of Spinozism could be
counteracted by the work of Newton. His Dutch admirers started to 33
develop a systematized interpretation, adapted to local circumstanc-
es and local needs. In subsequent years ’s Gravesande would become
by far the most influential figure in this process. As we have seen, he
took a strong interest in natural philosophy and scientific culture
when he was a lawyer and an editor of the Journal littéraire de La Haye.
In 1715 his career took a rather unexpected turn when he was asked
to become the secretary of a Dutch diplomatic mission to England.85
According to the biography of ’s Gravesande by his student Jean All-
amand (1713–1787), it was on this trip that he became converted to
Newtonianism. But as we hope to have demonstrated, there are good
reasons to believe that ’s Gravesande was already very much aware of
the significance of Newton’s work and its potential for the Dutch intel-
lectual climate before his journey to England.
Be this as it may, shortly after his return, in May 1717, ’s Gravesande
received the surprising invitation to become professor of mathemat-
ics and astronomy at Leiden University, more or less as the succes-
sor to De Volder, who had died in 1709.86 ’s Gravesande’s inaugural
address, De matheseos in omnibus scientiis praecipue in physicis usu
(1717), touched upon the same theme as Boerhaave’s oration of 1715:
the thorny problem of certitude in science. Once more, Newton was
introduced as the antidote to the poisonous Spinoza. ’s Gravesande’s
ambitions went much further than to deliver a methodological oratio
pro domo. During his entire career he wanted to be a philosopher of the
commonwealth, concerned with the well-being of society at large. Lat-
er in life ’s Gravesande would formulate what has been aptly described

as his ‘surviving-axiom’: the conviction that truth is essentially an idea
that is not in contradiction with the values of society (i.e. Christianity)
as such. Morality and science constituted two sides of the same coin.
The newly-appointed professor started his oration by saying that
many people distrust mathematicians, and even consider them athe-
ists. Indeed, there had been mathematicians who denied the existence
of God — an obvious reference to Spinoza — but that did not mean
that mathematics was bad in itself. On the contrary, by means of this
discipline we could understand something of the immutable laws God
imposed on nature:
These laws, which depend on the will of the Creator alone,

must be drawn out, so to speak, from the phenomena them-
34 selves, since they are not revealed to us by any divine reve-
lation. Men who construct hypotheses and use these as the
basis of a system are running gladly into error and shutting

themselves out from the gate of true physics.87
The only way to grasp the truth is to follow Newton’s method of

describing nature in mathematical terms, and trying to confirm the
‘laws’ thus formulated by observation and experiment. By proposing
this combined mathematical-experimental method Newton was ‘the
king of the mathematicians and innovator of the true philosophy’.
’s Gravesande was very explicit about the Englishman and described
him as ‘a man beyond all praise’.88
In the following decades, ’s Gravesande was very successful at pro-
moting Newton. He agreed with Newton that mathematical reasoning
was important in natural philosophy, but in line with the Dutch empir-
ical tradition, he made a firm distinction between pure and applied
mathematics. Thus, although ’s Gravesande remained critical towards
his hero — the method was more important than the man — it was
’s Gravesande who adapted Newton’s work in such a way that it could
be digested by its readers and taught at universities. His two-volume
handbook Physices elementa mathematica, experimentis confirmata,
with the significant subtitle Introductio ad philosophiam Newtonianam
(1720–1721) not only became the most influential textbook on this sub-
ject in the eighteenth century, both in the Netherlands and abroad, but
its title also suggested that there was such thing as a coherent Newto-
nian philosophy. That this Newtonian philosophy was for a large part
’s Gravesande’s own interpretation of Newton was not stated in so
many words. He only admitted that ‘Whoever would compare various
philosophers’ writings on “physics”, could hardly doubt that this word
designates many diverse branches of knowledge, even though all of
them promise to convey the true cause of natural phenomena’.89
In his book ’s Gravesande described the many experiments he had
performed himself, and which could be copied by his readers and
students. He elaborated upon De Volder’s and Senguerd’s teaching
of experimental physics, putting the emphasis not on demonstrative,
but on heuristic value. ’s Gravesande was an ingenious inventor of
instruments and had all his devices (including an apparatus to com-
pare the velocity of falling bodies, and another demonstrating that
the path of a thrown body is a parabola) built by the famous Leiden
instrument workshop of Jan van Musschenbroek (1687–1748). The lat- 35
ter was the brother of Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761) who, as
Kees de Pater describes in this volume, would become ’s Gravesande’s
colleague in 1736.90 Thanks to ’s Gravesande and the Van Musschen-
broeks, Leiden University turned into Europe’s most famous university
in the field of natural philosophy. ’s Gravesande’s lavishly illustrated
books contributed much to the popularity of physical experiments in
eighteenth-century Dutch culture and abroad.91
The Physices elementa mathematica was ‘the first general text of
Newtonian science to be published on the Continent and one of the
earliest to be published in England’.92 The book was often reprint-
ed, and translated into English (twice), French and (partly) Dutch.
One English edition was translated by Desaguliers (1720–1721, many
reprints) and another by Keill (1720; no reprints known).93 ’s Grave-
sande himself also published an abbreviated version, especially writ-
ten for students, the Philosophiae Newtonianae institutiones (1723). He
also edited an edition of Keill’s Latin textbook Introductiones ad ver-
am physicam et veram astronomiam (Leiden, 1725) and, last but not
least, in 1732 issued a Latin edition of Newton’s mathematical tract, the
Arithmetica universalis. By then he was seen throughout Europe as the
leading expert in Newton’s mathematics and physics.
But ’s Gravesande’s greatest achievement was his extreme success
in popularizing Newtonian science. Telling in this respect is what
he wrote to Newton in 1718, after having received an author’s copy of
Newton’s last book:
A few days ago I received [...] the second edition of your

Opticks. [...] I am infinitely obliged to you for this present, so
valuable to me both for itself and for its giver. I begin to hope
that the way of philosophizing that one finds in this book will
be more and more followed in this country, at least I flatter
myself that I have had some success in giving a taste of your
philosophy in this university; as I talk to people who have
made very little progress in mathematics, I have been obliged
to have several machines constructed to convey the force
of propositions whose demonstrations they had not under-
stood. By experiment I give a direct proof of the nature of
compound motions, oblique forces and the principle proposi-
tions respecting central forces.94
36 This last remark is revealing. It demonstrates that in spite of ’s Grave-

sande’s admiration for Newton’s mathematical-empirical method, in
his own adaptation of Newton the experimental demonstration for lay

people was just as important as the initial mathematical analysis of
nature. Again this underpins ’s Gravesande’s firm distinction between
pure and applied mathematics. So thanks to the demonstration devic-
es designed by ’s Gravesande and Jan van Musschenbroek, even those
without any mathematical training could receive an introduction to
the achievements of ‘modern’ natural philosophy.
Dutch ‘Newtonianism’ and physico-theology

Thanks to the efforts of Le Clerc, ’s Gravesande, Nieuwentijt, Ten Kate
and others, the study of nature appeared to be liberated from the dan-
gers of atheism, simply by arguing that Newton and his epigones had
restored by their philosophical principles the possibility of a ‘Divine
Providence’; this ‘Newtonian message’ was very welcome in the Prot-
estant Dutch Republic. The message was clear and simple: the laws
of nature could be attributed to the reliability of God’s Providence
alone. Thus, in addition to studying the Bible, the study of nature was
another way to learn about God’s meaning and his purposes with the
world. Investigating nature with an air-pump, telescope, microscope
or barometer became identical with gloryfiing the divine Creator.
This physico-theological way of reasoning was not new in the
Republic, quite the contrary. As we have already seen, there existed
a long and deeply-rooted tradition of natural theology, as well as
an empirical attitude towards nature.95 If the notion of the ‘Book of

Nature’ was a commonplace among all members of Dutch society,
its corollary science, physico-theology, was to become very success-
ful, precisely because it appealed both to orthodox biblical literalists,
and to Remonstrants, Mennonites, Huguenots, and other dissenting
groups who were far less dogmatic in exegetical matters, nor bound by
ecclesiastical authorities. What all had in common was the belief that
nature was the theatre of God’s glory, and that the rationalistic and
materialistic philosophy of nature of Descartes and Spinoza would
inevitably lead to atheism.
John Ray’s book Three Physico-Theological Discourses (1693), in which
the term ‘physico-theology’ was coined, had already been translat-
ed into Dutch as early as 1694.96 Still, the Dutch physico-theological
movement only became a trend in the late 1720s, as an integral part of
a general physico-theological wave in Europe, represented by foreign 37
authors such as John Ray, William Derham or Noel-Antoine Pluche, but
also as a result of a native tradition. Alongside Nieuwentijt’s Het regt
gebruik, British physico-theological literature was received with great
enthusiasm. Derham’s Physico-Theology was translated into French by
the Rotterdam Huguenot and professor of mathematics Jacques Lufneu
(published in 1726; reprinted 1730), and into Dutch by the Amsterdam
Mennonite physician Abraham van Loon (published in 1728; reprint-
ed 1739; 1742). Both translators had studied in Leiden during ’s Grave-
sande’s professorship.97 In return the main Dutch work on the subject,
Het regt gebruik, also found its way to the European book market. Nieu-
wentijt’s work was translated into English (London 1719; by John Cham-
berlayne, with a preface by John Theophilus Desaguliers); into French
(Paris 1725; Amsterdam 1727) and into German (Frankfurt and Leipzig
1732, with a preface by Christian Wolff).
Pierre Coste’s French translation of Newton’s Opticks (1720)

Completely in line with the Dutch Newtonian offensive in the years
1715–1720 is the publication, early in 1720, of the first French translation
of Newton’s Opticks, issued in Amsterdam. With the notable exception
of Lambert ten Kate, discussed in the chapter by Fokko Jan Dijkster-
huis, the publication of the Opticks in 1704 and its Latin translation
in 1706 aroused little attention in the Dutch Republic. The latter was
reviewed only in Le Clerc’s Bibliothèque choisie and its Dutch counter-
part the Boekzaal der geleerde waerelt. However, in the wake of the suc-
cess of the second edition of the Principia (and its pirated Amsterdam
reprint), renewed attention was paid to the Opticks, of which a sec-
ond edition was issued in 1718. Soon afterwards, Pierre Coste (1668–
1747), a Huguenot who had lived for a long time in Amsterdam and
had served there as a Walloon minister, started to work on a French
translation.98 In Amsterdam, in the 1680s, Coste had met John Locke, a
meeting which resulted in a close and lasting relationship. Coste more
or less became Locke’s secretary and the French translator of Locke’s
main works. When Locke returned to England in 1689, Coste joined
him, and he would stay in Britain for the rest of his life, although he
never really felt at home there.99 In 1715 Coste met John Theopilus
Desaguliers (1683–1744), who just had finished a series of experiments
for the Royal Society which had improved the practical demonstra-
tion of Newton’s ‘Experimentum Crucis’. In this famous experiment,
38 the composition of white light into different colours was demonstrat-
ed.100 With Desaguliers’ assistance Coste took up the job of translating
the Opticks, which was printed in Amsterdam, in October 1719.101 The

Traité d’optique sur les réflexions, réfractions, inflexions, et les couleurs,
de la lumière was issued in two volumes by the Amsterdam Huguenot
publisher Pierre Humbert — again, one of the members of the Vis unita
major company. In his preface Coste underlined the message which
was repeated again and again by the Dutch and English Newtonians,
viz. that Newton’s philosophy ‘leads us necessarily to God, the author
and conserver of things’.102
Physico-theology and its appeal to the Mennonite community

This international physico-theological wave, with its ‘Newtonian’
flavour, in the transmission of which the French Huguenots both in
Britain and Holland were so instrumental,103 was first appreciated
among members of the Dutch Mennonite community. In the Nether-
lands the members of this pious — but dissenting — religious group
were excluded from government offices, but by trade and manufac-
ture many of them had become very wealthy. Nevertheless, Mennon-
ites had a plain lifestyle, with a very personal spiritual perception of
their belief. In Mennonite thought the awareness of a divine scheme
for mankind had been present for a long time. So for Mennonites the
idea of a nature regulated by divine laws was readily acceptable. The
physico-theological aspect of Newtonianism legitimized the study of
nature. Not only did this study offer these dissenters the possibility
of spiritual contemplation, but their open mind for the application

of scientific findings also promoted economic innovation and social
emancipation.104 We already encountered two early Dutch advocates
of Newton, Adriaan Verwer and Lambert ten Kate, who both were
Mennonites. In view of this, it may not come as a surprise that in 1718
a group of wealthy ‘Mennonite enthusiasts’ gathered in Amsterdam,
to follow a course in experimental philosophy from the Danzig-born
instrument maker Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit (1686–1736), who had
settled in Amsterdam the year before. Right from the start Fahrenheit
became acquainted with Herman Boerhaave in Leiden and Lambert
ten Kate in Amsterdam.105 It was probably Ten Kate who introduced
Fahrenheit to the Mennonite circle in Amsterdam. In 1721 he issued a
prospectus for his lessons from which we learn that he had chosen to
follow ‘the recently published Latin tract of Professor ’s Gravesande,
called Physices elementa mathematica, to be added to some findings 39
from my own experience’.106 These physics lessons for Mennonite
enthusiasts would continue far into the eighteenth century.107
It was also a Mennonite who was responsible for the only Dutch
translation of one of Newton’s books. In 1736 the Mennonite merchant
Abraham de Vryer translated Newton’s last and posthumously pub-
lished works, The Chronology of Ancient Kingdoms Amended and the
Fig. 4a & 4b: The only book by Isaac Newton translated into Dutch: the
Historie der aloude volkeren opgeheldert (1736), with Newton’s reconstruction
of Solomon’s Temple, demonstrating Newton’s search for a divine standard
measure of length.
Fig. 5 & 6:
John Theophilus
Desaguliers (1683–1744)
and a leaflet issued
in 1731 in Rotterdam,
announcing his lectures
on experimental
physics and astronomy.
40
Short Chronicle from the First Memory of Things in Europe (London

1728) into Dutch.108 Newton had been engaged for a long time in this
study of ancient chronology, in an attempt to prove the authenticity of
biblical events with astronomical phenomena. His view that the Bible
could be read as a kind of cryptogram, in which God’s purpose with
the world was hidden, had led him to an extensive study of Solomon’s
Temple, whose length could be seen as a God-given unit of measure-
ment. The fact that this was the only one of Newton’s books then trans-
lated into Dutch, indicates that the Dutch were far more interested in
Newton’s theology than in his science. Although little is known about
De Vryer, his translation must be seen against the background of the
non-dogmatic, very personal attitude of the Mennonites towards the
Bible.109
Desaguliers and the popularization of ‘experimental philosophy’ 41

in the Dutch Republic
In 1715 Newton was launched as a useful icon for studying nature in a
mathematical-empirical way, with room for divine intervention. This
kind of experimental philosophy became widely accepted in the 1720s,
at least in academic circles. Widespread popularization of experimen-
tal physics in the Northern Netherlands only came into being in the
1730s, however, thanks to the Dutch tour of John Theophilus Desaguli-
ers. In England he had acquired great fame. Desaguliers had studied at
Oxford, and had served as an experimental assistant to Sir Isaac New-
ton. He was a skilled experimenter and an accomplished technician,
but above all else he was renowned as a public lecturer. Desaguliers
amazed his lay audience — men as well as women — with spectacular
demonstrations, in which entertainment and commerce seemed to
be as important as science. In the early 1730s Desaguliers crossed the
North Sea a few times, visiting a number of Dutch cities, lecturing at
least in Rotterdam, The Hague and Amsterdam.110 The reason for these
travels is not known, although one of Desaguliers’ relatives — probably
an uncle — worked as a mathematician in Amsterdam, so contacts
with Holland were close.111
A decade or so before his Dutch tour Desaguliers had made some
efforts to introduce Dutch books to the English market. In 1718 he had
written a commendatory preface to an English edition of the Dutch
physico-theological book of Nieuwentijt, and three years later he had
prepared an English translation of ’s Gravesande’s textbook.112 The two
knew each other personally, for Desaguliers had met ’s Gravesande
during his visit to London in 1715.
Desaguliers’ Dutch tour was very well organized and surrounded by
considerable publicity. A prospectus of Desaguliers’ Rotterdam lessons
shows that he performed his lectures in three languages every day: ‘in
the morning from seven thirty until nine o’clock in French, from ten
o’clock in English, and in the afternoon at four in Latin’.113 For a series
of fifteen lessons the amount of three golden guineas had to be paid.
On some days he also lectured in astronomy, for an additional amount
of two or three guineas per person. We have calculated that in Holland
during the period August 1731 until February 1732 Desaguliers reached
a popular audience of more than a thousand listeners, bringing him
revenue of at least 3,000 guineas, a considerable amount.114 This fact
alone underscores that Desaguliers’ tour was above all a clever way to
42 earn money, not a tour to spread Newton’s gospel.
It is not surprising that the first textbook in Dutch on experimen-
tal physics was a short outline of Desaguliers’ lessons, produced by a

member of his audience, noted down probably in Rotterdam or The
Hague. In 1731 the booklet was published at Amsterdam by the Men-
nonite publisher Isaac Tirion (1705–1765). It was entitled Korte inhoud
der philosophische lessen, vervattende een kort begrip van de beginse-
len en gronden der proef-ondervindelijke natuurkunde (Short Outline of
the Philosophical Lessons, Containing a Short Understanding of the
Principles and Foundations of Experimental Physics). The illustrated
booklet contains references to some Latin words used by Desaguliers,
so the scribe must have visited an afternoon session and been capable
of grasping Latin. Already in 1732 a reprint was needed.115
‘Newtonian’ enthusiasts
Shortly after Desaguliers’ lecture tour, experimental physics became
extremely popular in the Netherlands. Driven by the effect of Desa-
guliers’ tour, two Mennonite publishers launched their own quarter-
ly journal, both with the intention of creating a forum in the Dutch
language for all kinds of news in the field of natural knowledge. Every
town of any importance established a physics society. Some of these
groups of konstgenoten (lovers of the arts) — as they called them-
selves — even organized their own housing, in some cases including a
well-equipped cabinet of scientific instruments and an astronomical
observatory. In cities like Amsterdam, Haarlem and Middelburg these
konstgenoten even participated in serious astronomical research, of

which the observational results were exchanged with foreign institu-
tions like the Observatoire de Paris or the Royal Society of London.116
A good example is the aforementioned Nicolaas Struyck. After
reading Newton’s Principia, as well as Edmund Halley’s Synopsis, a
list of twenty-four cometary orbits published in 1705, Struyck started
a long research program on cometary orbits. As the supposed ellip-
tical trajectory of comets was generally seen as the ultimate test of
Newton’s (mathematical) theory of gravity, this was an important sub-
ject for research. In 1722 Struyck announced his ambition to extend
Halley’s work on comets, ‘imitating that great astronomer’.117 It took
nearly twenty years, however, before he could present any results. In
1740 Struyck published an impressive quarto volume with original
work in the field of so-called ‘mixed mathematics’, presenting not only
research on comets, but also on geography, cartography, demography, 43
astronomy and entomology.118 With this emphasis on applied math-
ematics Struyck had become a Dutch ‘Halley’. In later years Struyck
continued his ‘Newtonian’ work, for instance by cooperating in the
Fig. 7:
Nicolaas Struyck
44
Fig. 8: Nicolaas Struyck’s three-dimensional ‘Cometarium’, designed and built

in 1745 to check Newton’s gravitational theory on comets. (Source: Struyck,
Vervolg [1753]).
Dutch translation of Newton’s adaptation of Bernhard Varenius’ Geo-

graphia generalis.119
Struyck was not the only Dutchman fascinated by comets. In the
years leading up to the expected return of Halley’s Comet, which,
when it came, was seen by contemporaries as a triumph for Newton’s
gravitational theory, several Dutch enthusiasts participated in the
search for astronomical discoveries.120 The surveyor Dirk Klinkenberg,
living in Haarlem and later in The Hague, was not only a very success-
ful astronomical observer (he independently observed at least fifteen
comets, five of which as the first recorded observer), but was also a
skilled mathematician. In 1755 he published a search table and map,
in which he calculated, for every month in the years to come, which
part of the night sky Halley’s Comet would appear in.121 This initiative
was the first of its kind in Europe. However, soon afterwards, this was
imitated in several other countries.122 Intrigued by the same event, and
on the basis of Newton’s gravitational theory, the wine merchant Jan
Schim from Maassluis tried to calculate the possible perturbations
on the comet’s orbit caused by the larger planets, concluding that the
comet’s orbit could be changed considerably.123
The Dutch universities

Meanwhile, in the Dutch Republic ‘Newtonianism’ had become a syn-
onym for ‘experimental philosophy’. This meant that other accents
could be incorporated. As De Pater has noted, Petrus van Musschen-
broek (1692–1761), who graduated from Leiden in 1715, tended more
towards an overall empirical approach with respect to nature, much
in the spirit of Francis Bacon.124 His scientific activities mainly con-
sisted of the collection of data of all sorts of phenomena, such as 45
electricity, magnetism, hydrostatics and meteorology, thereby giving
‘Newtonianism’ a far less mathematical dimension. This approach was
more in line with the German way of undertaking natural philosophy
as adopted by Christian Wolff (1679–1754). This may be corroborated
by the fact that from 1719 until 1721 Van Musschenbroek lectured in
the German city of Duisburg. In spite of this broader approach, Van
Musschenbroek still considered himself a Newtonian, as he said in his
letter to an aged Newton in 1726:
Being an admirer of your wisdom and philosophical teaching,

of which I had experience while in Britain in familiar conver-
sation with yourself, I thought it no error to follow in your
footsteps (though far behind), in embracing and propagating
the Newtonian philosophy. I began to do so in two universi-
ties where the triflings of Cartesianism flourished, and met
with success, so that there is hope that the Newtonian philos-
ophy will be seen as true in the greater part of Holland, with
praise of yourself.125
We see the same tendency towards an eclectic interpretation of ‘New-

tonianism’ among other students of ’s Gravesande. Several of them
were appointed to Dutch universities and illustrious schools: Johan
Hendrik van Lom (1704–1763) at the somewhat marginal University of
Harderwijk; Johannes Oosterdijk Schacht (1704–1792) and Godefridus
du Bois (1700–1747) at Franeker University, and Elie de Joncourt (1697–

1765) at the illustrious school in ’s-Hertogenbosch (Bois-le-Duc). They
all held orations in which they stressed the importance of ‘the’ Newto-
nian method and praised the Englishman’s virtues.126 In college, they
read ’s Gravesande’s textbook, in which experiments were crucial.
This same emphasis on the importance of experimental philosophy
was followed at the University of Groningen. But here, influenced by
the nearby German states, Newton was replaced as a scientific icon by
Leibniz and Wolff. This way of lecturing had started with the tumul-
tuous professorship of Johann Bernoulli (1667–1748). His successors
Nicolaus Engelhard (1696–1765) and Friedrich Adam Widder (1724–
1784) continued this German-oriented philosophical direction with
great enthusiasm.127 Perhaps this orientation also accounts for the
lack of Cartesian-Spinozist troubles at Groningen.128
46 Utrecht University also demonstrated a dual German-English ori-
entation. In 1740 the Utrecht curators even tried to appoint Christian
Wolff, the great master himself, to the chair of experimental philoso-

phy, left vacant after Petrus van Musschenbroek’s move to Leiden.129
One of his successors was Jean François Salvemini de Castillon (1709–
1791), a Swiss mathematician who had edited three volumes of New-
ton’s mathematical works (published in 1744 in Lausanne and Geneva).
From 1751 onwards he lectured on mathematics and astronomy in
Utrecht, being appointed full professor of philosophy in 1755. During
his professorship, Castillon continued his scholarly work, producing
in 1761 a Latin edition of Newton’s Arithmetica universalis. When he
left Utrecht, he was succeeded by a German educated-scholar, Johann
Friedrich Hennert (1733–1813). This example demonstrates that for
many scholars in the Netherlands ‘experimental philosophy’ in itself
was more important than the label attached to it. Either Newton or
Wolff could serve as icons for the scientific course, depending on local
circumstances. Franeker University, in the north of the country, also
demonstrates this dual approach. Here two ‘Newtonians’ had lectured
since the early 1740s, but in 1746 an epigone of Wolff was also appoint-
ed as a professor of philosophy. This was the Swiss mathematician
Samuel Koenig (1712–1757), well known for his fierce dispute with his
French colleague Maupertuis. Koenig also acted as a scientific advisor
to the — then only Frisian — Stadtholder William IV of Orange-Nassau.
In 1747 he moved with the court to The Hague, where he continued
delivering his lectures on experimental philosophy.130
Throughout the century, Leiden would remain the Republic’s un-

disputed centre of ‘Newtonianism’, as fashioned in the 1710s by Boer-
haave and ’s Gravesande. As we have argued above, this ‘Newtonianism’
was for a large part an almost unaltered continuation of the Dutch
form of experimental philosophy introduced by De Volder and Sen-
guerd in the late seventeenth century. In Leiden Newton had been
introduced, especially for convincing the orthodox Calvinist clergy
that this way of studying nature was very different from the deductive
physics and metaphysics preached by Descartes and Spinoza. Still, in
1726 Petrus van Musschenbroek would write to Newton that in Hol-
land ‘Newtonian philosophy [...] would flourish even more but for the
resistance of certain prejudiced and casuistical theologians’.131 Later
Leiden professors, such as Johannes Lulofs (1711–1768) and Jean Nico-
las Sébastien Allamand (1713–1787), continued to pay tribute to New-
ton.132 Leiden graduates, such as Jean Henri van Swinden (1746–1823), 47
later a professor at Franeker and at the Amsterdam Illustrious School,
and Petrus Camper (1722–1789), later at Franeker, Amsterdam and
Groningen, did so too. They all identified ‘Newtonianism’ with exper-
imental physics, empiricism and even natural history.133 The scientific
enterprise as such also became an instrument of natural theology.
Professors such as Van Musschenbroek and Lulofs considered it
their vocation to publish books on this kind of ‘Newtonian’ natural
philosophy in the vernacular, in order to enlighten their countrymen.
All these works basically contained the same message: God’s works
were incomprehensible, but his endless power and majesty could be
discerned and demonstrated by the study of his works of creation. The
‘argument from design’, as advocated by Nieuwentijt, Ray and Derham
(all available in Dutch) was propagated by many and seemingly con-
tested by no one. Words like ‘Newtonianism’, ‘experimental philoso-
phy’, ‘physico-theology’ and ‘natural theology’ were interchangeable,
and used to describe the same set of ideas, values and practices.
In time, Newton became less important as the only role model for
Dutch experimental philosophy. In the second half of the eighteenth
century a growing market emerged for other books, with a non-New-
tonian background. Translations of books on experimental philoso-
phy written by Christian Wolff, Johann Heinrich Winkler, Jean Antoine
Nollet and Leonhard Euler also became popular.134 Not everyone was
pleased with this trend, as is shown by an anonymous comment in the
journal De denker, published in 1765:
Newton gave us ’s Gravesande and Musschenbroek, and both

of those have given us men who still today excel in the gov-
ernment of the state, and at our universities. How many mer-
chants do we find [today] educated in that period, being busy
with optical experiments and making improvements? We
can still boast regents whose rooms are filled with the finest
instruments for demonstrating mechanics, hydrostatics, and
their properties, being busy performing astronomical obser-
vations. Thus was the state of our country in the last century
and the beginning of this one. A thousand discoveries, glorify-
ing the Supreme Being, were made daily in Astronomy as well
as Natural History. The great Boerhaave, the champion, the
example of good taste, was hardly dead or everything tum-
bled down. Winkler let us exchange the sublime astronomical
48 researches for foolish electrical experiments. [...] How far has
miserable Wolf [sic] destroyed the good taste of Newton and
Locke!135
So Newton was popular, but not undisputed. Perhaps surprisingly, the

increasing terminological vagueness about Dutch ‘Newtonianism’ and
the dilution of its epistemological foundation coincided with a grow-
ing praise for Newton himself. The cultivation of Newton as the pious,
even supernatural mathematician and philosopher, started by Verwer
and Le Clerc, reached its peak at the end of the eighteenth century.136
The astronomer Petrus Nieuwland (d. 1795) sang the praises of New-
ton’s genius. The philosopher Frans Hemsterhuis (1721–1790) consid-
ered Socrates and Newton the two greatest men that had ever lived.137
Betje Wolff (1738–1804) translated Pope’s ‘Ode to Newton’ into Dutch,
and remarked that the universal law of gravitation was an exemplum
for the behaviour of good citizens in a truly Christian society. The
nearly blind female poet Petronella Moens (1762–1843), a person most
unlikely to have digested the Principia, wrote: ‘O Great Newton! Who
knew how to calculate the forces of Nature, its eternal laws, most care-
fully.’138 In a way which reminds us of the later cult surrounding Albert
Einstein, Newton was worshipped, not only because of his scientific
work, but most of all because he became an icon, onto which all kinds
of values could be projected: piety, reasonableness, peacefulness, and
modesty.139 Apparently, Newton had driven out the ghost of Spinoza.
Concluding remarks
In the last few decades, historians of science have shown a growing
awareness of the importance of concepts such as the circulation of
knowledge, and the social, rhetorical and geographical dimensions
of early modern scientific culture. In this article we hope to have
demonstrated that ‘Newtonianism’ was not a stable system, waiting
to be shipped from England to the Dutch Republic.140 On the contrary,
Newton’s philosophy was modelled in such a way that it fitted into an
already existing system of experimental philosophy. In the Republic
Newton was introduced as a pious mathematical genius, whose mes-
sage was of relevance to the whole of Christianity. Ironically, very few
people were aware of Newton’s own highly heterodox ideas. In the
Republic, the Newtonian system was developed and adapted because
it seemed to pose no religious threat, and because it arrived at the
right moment. As Rienk Vermij has provocatively written: 49
It seems unlikely that Newton’s theories were inherently more
in accordance with religious orthodoxy than Descartes’. They
were based on mathematical demonstrations in a way Des-
cartes had only dreamed of. If they could be used to attenuate
tensions, that was probably just because people were tired
of continuous struggles. [...] The main merits of Newton’s
theories from a religious point of view were that they were
untainted by previous denunciations and provocations, and
that there were no ecclesiastical reputations at stake in their
acceptance or rejections. Any other new theory could have
done.141
Dutch Newtonianism was a construction that was created as an

answer to local problems and debates. Newton was consciously put
on the map, as well as on the market, as the outburst of ‘Newtonian’
books following the second edition of the Principia in 1713 and its
pirated Amsterdam edition of 1714 shows. ‘Newtonianism’ was a label,
a newly coined umbrella term for two longer trends in Dutch natural
philosophy: the use of mathematics, and the empirical and experimen-
tal tradition. It was Newton who was considered a suitable antidote
to the poisonous rationalistic and materialistic systems of Descartes
and — most of all — Spinoza. The person of Newton, and the system he
seemed to represent, strongly appealed not only to orthodox Calvin-
ists, but to many religious dissenters as well. We noted the important

role played by Mennonites and Huguenots in the propagation of New-
ton and his works, a role we must understand from the emphasis they
put on God’s hand in nature.
In the Dutch context, Newton overcame the boundaries between
the religious denominations, as well as between the disciplines. To
an academic, as well as a lay audience (including an increasing num-
ber of women), Newton seemed the most Christian of philosophers.
It is striking to note how, in a sense, Newton himself became even
more popular than his philosophy. ‘Newtonianism’ was an increas-
ingly vague term, more or less synonymous with physico-theology or
experimental philosophy. ‘Newtonianism’, so successful because of its
reconciliatory character, gradually smoothed away the factors that
were responsible for the remarkable Dutch intellectual culture of the
50 seventeenth century: its pluriformity, lack of central authority and rel-
ative openness to unorthodox and controversial ideas.
Notes
The authors would like to thank Rienk Vermij, Daan Wegener and Fokko Jan
Dijksterhuis for their comments on earlier versions of this paper, and Antho-
ny Ossa-Richardson for correcting their English as well as for his additional
remarks.
1 See, for example: E. Ruestow, Physics at 17th- and 18th-century Leiden (The
Hague 1973), pp. 113–140; C. de Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–
1761), een Newtoniaans natuuronderzoeker (PhD-thesis, Utrecht 1979); K.
van Berkel, In het voetspoor van Stevin: geschiedenis van de natuurweten-
schap in Nederland 1580–1940 (Meppel 1985), pp. 69–98; H.J. Cook, ‘The
new philosophy in the Low Countries’, in: R. Porter and M. Teich (eds),
The scientific revolution in national context (Cambridge 1992), pp. 115–149,
esp. 136; K. van Berkel, A. van Helden and L. Palm (eds), A history of science
in the Netherlands: survey, themes and reference (Leiden 1999), pp. 69–76
and 450–451.
2 K. van Berkel, ‘Newton in the Netherlands’ in: The Low Countries: arts and
society in Flanders and the Netherlands, yearbook published by the Flem-
ish-Netherlands Foundation Stichting Ons Erfdeel (Rekkem 1993–1994),
pp. 186–191; quotation p. 186.
3 E. Kegel-Brinkgreve and A.M. Luyendijk-Elshout (trans.), Boerhaave’s ora-
tions (Leiden 1983), pp. 160–162.
4 J. Bots, Tussen Descartes en Darwin. Geloof en natuurwetenschap in de

achttiende eeuw in Nederland (Assen 1972); R. Vermij, Secularisering en
natuurwetenschap in de zeventiende en achttiende eeuw: Bernard Nieu-
wentijt (Amsterdam 1991).
5 For a general survey see: J. Israel, The Dutch Republic: its rise, greatness,
and fall, 1477–1806 (Oxford 1995); H.J. Cook, Matters of exchange: com-
merce, medicine, and science in the Dutch Golden Age (New Haven, Lon-
don 2007); E. Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature in the Dutch Golden Age,
1575–1715 (Leiden 2010).
6 See, amongst others, R. Halleux, C. Opsomer and J. Vandersmissen (eds),
De geschiedenis van de wetenschappen in België van de Oudheid tot 1815
(Brussels 1998); K. van Berkel, ‘The legacy of Stevin: a chronological nar-
rative’, in: Van Berkel, Van Helden, Palm (eds), History of science in the
Netherlands (note 1), pp. 3–238; Cook, Matters of exchange (note 5); D. van
Netten and A. de Bruckere, ‘‘Zodat mijn verbanning tegelijk jouw straf is’.
Bloei, verval en migratie van wetenschap in de Republiek en de Spaanse 51
Nederlanden’, Bijdragen en mededelingen betreffende de geschiedenis
der Nederlanden 123 (2008), pp. 3–30; C.A. Davids, The rise and decline
of Dutch technological leadership: technology, economy and culture in the
Netherlands, 1350–1800 (Leiden 2008); S. Dupré, ‘Trading luxury glass, pic-
turing collections and consuming objects of knowledge in early-seven-
teenth-century Antwerp’, Intellectual history review 20 (2010), pp. 53–78;
E. Jorink and B. Ramakers (eds), Art and science in the early modern Low
Countries, Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art/Nederlands Kunsthis-
torisch Jaarboek 61 (Zwolle 2011).
7 S. Dupré and C. Lüthy (eds), Silent messengers: the circulation of material
objects of knowledge in the early modern Low Countries (Berlin 2011), pp.
1–2.
8 See, for example: G.A. Lindeboom, Herman Boerhaave: the man and his
work (Leiden 1968; Rotterdam 20072); E. Ashworth Underwood, Boer-
haave’s men at Leyden and after (Edinburgh 1977); T. Huisman, The finger
of God: anatomical practice in seventeenth-century Leiden (Leiden 2009).
9 J.N. Bakhuizen van den Brink, De Nederlandse belijdenisgeschriften in
authentieke teksten (Amsterdam [19401] 19762), p. 73.
10 Much has been written on the reception of Descartes in the Dutch Repub-
lic, for example: Th. Verbeek, La querelle d’Utrecht: René Descartes et Mar-
tinus Schoock (Paris 1988); idem, Descartes and the Dutch: early reactions
to Cartesian philosophy, 1637–1650 (Carbondale 1992); J.A. van Ruler, The
crisis of causality: Voetius and Descartes on God, nature and change (Leid-
en 1995); W. van Bunge, From Stevin to Spinoza: an essay on philosophy in
the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic (Leiden 2001).
11 R. Vermij, The Calvinist Copernicans: The reception of the new astronomy in
the Dutch Republic, 1575–1750 (Amsterdam 2002).
12 J. Yoder, Unrolling time: Christiaan Huygens and the mathematization of

nature (Cambridge 1988); F.J. Dijksterhuis, Lenses and waves: Christiaan
Huygens and the mathematical science of optics in the seventeenth century
(Dordrecht 2004).
13 J. Israel, ‘The banning of Spinoza’s works in the Dutch Republic (1670–
1678)’, in: W. van Bunge and W. Klever (eds), Disguised and overt Spino-
zism around 1700: papers presented at the International Congress held at
Rotterdam, 5–8 October 1994 (Leiden 1994), pp. 3–13, esp. 11–13.
14 P.C. Molhuysen, Bronnen tot de geschiedenis der Leidsche universiteit, 7
vols, (The Hague 1913–1924), vol. 3, p. 337.
15 J. Freudenthal, Die Lebensgeschichte Spinoza’s in Quellenschriften,
Urkunden und nichtamtliche Nachrichten (Leipzig 1899), pp. 179–180.
16 P. Bayle, Dictionaire historique et critique (Rotterdam 1697) and later edi-
tions; idem, Het leeven van B. de Spinoza, met eenige aanteekeningen over
zyn bedryf, schriften, en gevoelens (Utrecht 1698).
52
17 Johannes Colerus [= J. Köhler], Korte, dog waarachtige levensbeschrijving
van Benedictus Spinoza, uit autentique stukken en mondelinge getuigenis
van nog levende personen opgesteld (Amsterdam 1705; rpt The Hague
1880).
18 Cf. J. Israel, Radical Enlightenment: philosophy and the making of moderni-
ty, 1650–1750 (Oxford 2001).
19 Journal des sçavans (1673). This annual contained articles not only on the
‘Nouvelle lunette catoptrique inventée par M. Newton’ (pp. 19–22 and
121–123), but also Huygens’ remarks on the subject (pp. 22–33), as well as
news about competing designs by Laurent Cassegrain (pp. 80–84, fig. 1)
and David Gregory (pp. 43–49).
20 Oldenburg to Huygens, 11 March 1672 (O.S.), referring to I. Newton, ‘A
letter ... containing his new theory about light and colors’, Philosophical
transactions of the Royal Society 80 (19 Feb. 1672), pp. 3075–3087.
21 Huygens to Oldenburg, 1 July 1672: ‘Je trouve l’hypothese des couleurs de
Monsieur Newton jusqu’icy fort probable. l’Experimentum crucis est delivrè
un peu obscurement, mais si je l’entens bien il confirme beaucoup sa nouvel-
le opinion.’
22 R. Vermij, ‘Christiaan Huygens and Newton’, in: S. Mandelbrote and H.
Pulte (eds), The reception of Isaac Newton in Europe (in press).
23 Christiaan Huygens to Constantijn Huygens Jr, 30 December 1688: ‘Je
voudrais estre a Oxford, seulement pour faire connoissance avec Mr. New-
ton de qui j’admire extremement les belles inventions qui je trouve dans
l’ouvrage qu’il m’a envoiè.’ See also: E.A. Fellmann, ‘The Principia and con-
tinental mathematicians’, Notes and records of the Royal Society of London
42, special issue on Newton’s Principia and its legacy, edited by D.G. King-
Hele and A.R. Hall (1988), pp. 13–34, esp. 14–15.
24 Huygens to Hudde, 24 April 1688: ‘Aengaende het gemelte effect van het
draeijen der aerde sal V Edt. misschien gesien hebben ’t geen onlanghs
daervan geschreven is door den Professor Newton in sijn boeck genaemt Phi-
losophiae Naturalis principia Mathematica, stellende verscheyde hypoth-
eses die ick niet en kan approberen.’ Nothing is known about Hudde’s
reception of Newton, since most sources concerning his life and work
are lost. For example, we do not know if he owned a copy of the Princip-
ia, although one is tempted to think he did. On Hudde, see: R. Vermij,
‘Bijdrage tot de bio-bibliografie van Johannes Hudde’, Gewina. tijdschrift
voor de geschiedenis der geneeskunde, natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en
techniek 18 (1995), pp. 25–35.
25 Christiaan Huygens, Oeuvres complètes de Christiaan Huygens publiées
par la Société Hollandaise des Sciences, 22 vols (The Hague 1888–1950),
vol. 9, p. 267.
26 Gerhard Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum in Minervas Haus. Experimentelle
Naturlehre an der Universität Leiden, 1675–1715 (Amsterdam 2002).
27 Molhuysen, Bronnen (note 14), vol. 3, p. 298. 53
28 Nevertheless, two of De Volder’s former mathematics students visited
Newton personally. In 1684 De Volder wrote a letter of introduction for
Johann Christopher Zimmerman, a nephew of his colleague in theology,
Christoph Wittich. It was the same Zimmerman who in 1687 transported
Newton’s presentation copy of the Principia to De Volder. In 1702 another
of his former students, Frans Burman (1671–1716), also visited Newton.
Burman discussed the trajectory of comets with this great mathemati-
cian, and received from Newton a personal letter of recommendation
to Edmund Halley. Cf. De Volder to Newton, 24 November 1684 and 14
August 1687. Both letters printed in: A. Rupert Hall, ‘Further Newton cor-
respondence’, Notes and records of the Royal Society of London 37:1 (1982),
pp. 7–34, esp. 11–12. Burman’s Latin journal was published by A. Cape-
dose, Francisci Burmanni, V.D.M. viri clarissimi itineris anglicani acta
diurna (Amsterdam 1828), pp. 9–10, 21 and 37. An English translation can
be found in: J.E.B. Mayor, Cambridge under Queen Anne (Cambridge 1911),
311–324, esp. 314–315.
29 R. Vermij, ‘The formation of the Newtonian philosophy: the case of the
Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’, British journal for the history of sci-
ence 36 (2003), pp. 183–200, esp. 185–186; Cf: Anita Guerinni, ‘Archibald
Pitcairne and Newtonian medicine’, Medical history 31 (1987), pp. 70–83.
30 P.G. Hoftijzer, ‘Het Nederlandse boekenbedrijf en de verspreiding van
de Engelse wetenschap in de zeventiende en achttiende eeuw’, Jaarboek
voor Nederlandse boekgeschiedenis 5 (1998), pp. 59–72.
31 On Vossius, see E. Jorink and D. van Miert (eds), Isaac Vossius (1618–1689)
between science and scholarship (Leiden 2012). Vossius’ copy is still in Lei-
den, shelf number 1369D19. It might have been an author’s copy, since
both Newton and Vossius were fellows of the Royal Society. There are no
indications that Vossius ever read the book.

32 Z. C. von Uffenbach, Merkwürdige Reisen durch Niedersachsen, Holland
und Engelland, 3 vols. [1711] (Ulm 1754), vol. 3, p. 472.
33 Vermij, ‘Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29).
34 J.A.M Slenders, Het theatrum anatomicum in de Noordelijke Nederlanden,
1555–1800 (Nijmegen 1989); J.C. Rupp, ‘Matters of life and death: the social
and cultural conditions of the rise of anatomical theatres, with special
reference to seventeenth-century Holland’, History of science 28 (1990),
pp. 263–287; idem, ‘Theatra anatomica. culturele centra in het Nederland
van de 17e eeuw’, in: J. Kloek and W.W. Mijnhardt, Balans en perspectief van
de Nederlandse cultuurgeschiedenis. de productie, distributie en consump-
tie van cultuur (Amsterdam 1991), pp. 13–36; H.J. Zuidervaart, ‘Het in 1658
opgerichte theatrum anatomicum te Middelburg. Een medisch-weten-
schappelijk en cultureel convergentiepunt in een vroege stedelijke con-
text’, Archief. Mededelingen van het Koninklijk Zeeuwsch Genootschap der
54
Wetenschappen (2009), pp. 73–140.
35 J.V.M. de Vet, Pieter Rabus (1660–1702). Een wegbereider van de Noordned-
erlandse Verlichting (Amsterdam 1980); B.C. Sliggers, ‘Honderd jaar
natuurkundige amateurs in Haarlem’, in: A. Wiechmann (ed.), Een elek-

triserend geleerde: Martinus van Marum, 1750–1837 (Haarlem 1987), pp.
67–102.
36 On Makreel, see: Vermij, ‘Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29).
On Verwer, see: I. van de Bilt, Landkaartschrijvers en landverdelers. Adri-
aen Verwer (ca. 1655–1717), Adriaan Kluit (1735–1807) en de Nederlandse
taalkunde van de achttiende eeuw (Amsterdam 2009). On Nieuwentijt,
see: Vermij, Secularisering (note 4).
37 Fellmann, ‘The Principia and continental mathematicians’ (note 23), pp.
25–26.
38 See, for example: E. van der Wall, De mystieke chiliast Petrus Serrari-
us (1600–1669) en zijn wereld (Leiden 1987); Jorink, Reading the Book of
Nature (note 5).
39 [Adriaan Pietersz Verwer], ’t Mom-aensicht der atheistery afgerukt door
een verhandeling van den aengeboren stand der menschen, vervattende [...]
een grondige wederlegging [...] van de geheele sede-konst, van Benedictus de
Spinoza (Amsterdam 1683).
40 University Library Utrecht, shelf mark N 1048.
41 [Verwer], Mom-aensicht (note 39), p. 13; here quoted after Vermij, ‘Amster-
dam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29), p. 193.
42 Vermij, ‘Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29), pp. 193–194. The
quote is from a letter by Verwer (explaining the formulae) to Gregory, Jan-
uary 1703.
43 M.J. Petry, Frans Hemsterhuis. Waarneming en Werkelijkheid (Baarn 1990),
p. 27.
44 Vermij, ‘Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29).

45 E. van der Wall, ‘Newtonianism and religion in the Netherlands’, Studies
in history and philosophy of science 35 (2004), pp. 493–514.
46 S. Mandelbrote, ‘Newton and eighteenth-century Christianity’, in: I.B.
Cohen and G.E. Smith (eds), The Cambridge companion to Newton (Cam-
bridge 2002), pp. 409–430, esp. 422 and 430.
47 Ibidem. As Mandelbrote points out, versions of the manuscript circu-
lated after Le Clerc’s death in 1736. One of these was the basis for the
first, inaccurate, edition the Two Letters of Sir Isaac Newton to Mr. Le Clerc
(London 1754). See: Le Clerc to Locke, 11 April 1691, in: M. Grazia and M.
Sina (eds), Epistolario, Part 2 (Florence 1991), pp. 50–52.
48 Cf. E. Jorink, ‘‘Horrible and blasphemous’’: Isaac la Peyrère, Isaac Vossius
and the emergence of radical biblical criticism in the Dutch Republic’,
in: J. van der Meer and S. Mandelbrote (eds), Nature and Scripture in the
Abrahamic religions: up to 1700 (Leiden 2009), pp. 429–450; Jorink and
Van Miert, Isaac Vossius (note 31). 55
49 Vermij, ‘Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29), pp. 196–199.
50 Bibliothèque universelle 8 (1688). On the authorship of the review see:
James L. Axtell, ‘Locke’s review of the Principia’, Notes and records of the
Royal Society of London 20:1 (1965), pp. 152–161. On Locke’s impact on con-
tinental Europe, see: J. Israel, Enlightenment contested: philosophy, moder-
nity, and the emancipation of man, 1670–1752 (Oxford 2006), pp. 51–62 and
135–144.
51 J. Le Clerc, Physica sive De rebus corporeis libri quinque (Amsterdam
1696). The first edition was published in Amsterdam by Galet; later edi-
tions were published by De Lorme (1700, 1704, 1710) and R. and G. Wet-
stein (1722). See about these editions: I.H. van Eeghen, De Amsterdamse
boekhandel 1680–1725, 5 vols (Amsterdam 1960–1978), vol. 2, pp. 152–155
and 184–186. About the content, see: Vermij, The Calvinist Copernicans
(note 11), pp. 350–352.
52 The Amsterdam publisher Johannes Wolters was an acquaintance of Ber-
nard Nieuwentijt. In the years 1694–1696, Wolters had published three
mathematical tracts by Nieuwentijt. In 1715 Wolters’ widow and stepson
issued Nieuwentijt’s Het regt gebruik.
53 Rohault’s original Traité de la physique (Paris 1671) had been pirated in
Amsterdam the next year, and again in 1676, by ‘J. le Jeune’ (a nickname
for Daniel Elsevier). The Latin translation made by Bonet in 1672, and
annotated in 1682 by Antoine Le Grand in Cambridge, also was pirated
in Amsterdam. Reprints were issued in 1682 and 1691 by Jean Pauli, and
in 1700 by Johannes Wolters. In 1708 the latter included in this edition
the ‘Newtonian footnotes’ (version 1702) made by Samuel Clarke, but also
retaining Le Grand’s remarks. A final edition of the ‘Newtonian’ version
of the Latin translation of Rohault’s texbook was published in 1738 by the
Leiden publisher Johannes Arnoldus Langerak.

54 Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne 1:1 (1714), pp. 69–96. See at length: M.
Evers ‘Pro Newtone et religione: de receptie van Newton en de Engelse
fysicotheologen in de Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne (1714–1727)’,
Documentatieblad werkgroep achttiende eeuw 20 (1988), pp. 247–267; esp.
247–248..
55 Vermij, The Calvinist Copernicans (note 11), p. 351.
56 Ibidem and Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne 3:1 (1715), pp. 42–44.
57 See, for example: H. Guerlac, Newton on the Continent (Cornell 1981).
58 I. B. Cohen, Introduction to Newton’s Principia (Cambridge, MA 1978), pp.
246–247. As far as can be ascertained, all four of these presentation cop-
ies are still present in Dutch libraries.
59 Ibidem, pp. 256–257.
60 Journal littéraire de La Haye 1 (July-August 1713).
61 Isabella van Eeghen has shown that most likely the following publishers
56
participated in the Vis unita major company in 1711: (1) Estienne Roger,
(2) Jan Wolters for his stepson Joannes Pauli, (3) R. and G. Wetstein, (4)
Hendrik Schelte, (5) Jaques Desbordes, (6) Francois l’Honoré, (7) Pieter
le Coup, (8) Johannes van Waesberge, (9) Pierre Brunel and (10) Pierre
Humbert. They all had been participants in the agreement between the
54 Dutch book sellers. Cf. Van Eeghen, De Amsterdamse boekhandel (note
51), vol. 5:1, pp. 326–327.
62 One of the Amsterdam members of the Vis unita major publishing com-
pany, Estienne Roger, died in 1722, before the delivery of his share in the
second pirated edition of Newton’s Principia. His heirs received these 75
copies. Van Eeghen has shown that in 1722 fourteen publishers were unit-
ed in the Vis unita major company, which makes a total print run of 1,050
copies for the second printing. In 1714 only ten booksellers had joined the
company, which — with the same share — makes an estimated print run
of 750 copies. The Cambridge edition of 1713 also counted an estimated
750 to 1,000 copies; the editio princeps of 1687 had a print run between
250 and 400. Cf. Van Eeghen, De Amsterdamse boekhandel (note 51), vol.
4, p. 70; idem, vol. 5:1, pp. 326–327, and Cohen, Introduction to Newton’s
Principia (note 58), pp. 138 and 256–258.
63 Evers, ‘Pro Newtone et religione’ (note 54) pp. 256–257.
64 See at length the special issue devoted to the history of the Journal lit-
téraire of Documentatieblad werkgroep achttiende eeuw 18 (1986), part 2,
esp. 145; see also: L. Maass, Het journal littéraire de La Haye (1713–1723). de
uitwendige geschiedenis van een geleerdentijdschrift (Deventer 2001).
65 Recueil de diverses pieces (1720). This Dutch edition under the direction
of Pierre des Maizeaux with personal advice by Isaac Newton, was an
elaboration of the French translation by Michel la Roche of this famous
dispute, published in London in 1719. La Roche was the editor of the Bib-
liothèque angloise, where he reviewed the original English version of the

dispute, issued by Samuel Clarke in 1717. In his review he also announced
the Dutch printing, which would be executed by the publisher Henri du
Sauzet in The Hague. Since 1714 Du Sauzet had been editing a French
weekly, the Nouvelles littèraires, for which Jean Le Clerc had recommend-
ed Des Maizeaux as the English correspondent. But as Du Sauzet moved
to Amsterdam shortly before 1720 the book was eventually published
in Amsterdam. In 1740 an elaborated reprint was issued by François
Changuion, one of the co-publishers of 1720. Cf. Van Eeghen, De Amster-
damse boekhandel (note 51), vol. 2, pp. 251–254; E.M. van Meerkerk, ‘De
‘Nouvelles littéraires’: een spraakmakend debuut van een jonge uitgever,
1715–1720’, TS: tijdschrift voor tijdschriftstudies 8 (2000), pp. 11–20. See
also: J.-F. Baillon, ‘Early eighteenth-century Newtonianism: the Hugue-
not contribution’, Studies in history and philosophy of science, part A, 35:3
(2004), pp. 533–548, esp. 539.
66 O.S. Lankhorst, ‘De uitgevers van het Journal Litéraire’, Documentatie- 57
blad werkgroep achttiende eeuw 18 (1986), pp. 143–164, esp. 145.
67 Van Eeghen, De Amsterdamse boekhandel (note 51), vol. 2, p. 185.
68 Maass, Het journal littéraire (note 64). ’s Gravesande himself published
an article on the theory of air-pump construction.
69 H. Bots and J. de Vet, ‘De fysico-theologie in het Journal litéraire: Haagse
journalisten ten strijde tegen het ongeloof ’, Documentatieblad werkgroep
achttiende eeuw 18 (1986), pp. 213–226; The journal also had the honor of
publishing the many articles related to the Newton-Leibniz controversy,
including John Keill’s Défense du Chevalier Newton.
70 Vermij, Secularisering en natuurwetenschap (note 4), pp. 118–119.
71 For instance, after the preface, a vignette is printed with a cartouche
which contains the printer mark ‘4 G.W.’ This vignette is identical to one
in Nieuwentijt’s Het regt gebruik, published by the widow of J. Wolters and
J. Pauli (1717 edition) on p. 74. It is also present in the edition of Nieu-
wentijt’s Gronden der zekerheid, published by J. Pauli (1728 edition), after
the ‘bladwijser’, before page 1. The 1723 edition of the Principia has a few
more vignettes than the 1714 edition. For instance, the last page contains
a vignette representing an unidentified coat of arms with three rising
chevrons. This vignette is also present in Nieuwentijt’s Het regt gebruik,
published by the widow of J. Wolters and J. Pauli. (1717 edition) on p. 719.
72 In 1732 Nicolaas Struyck edited on his own the fifth edition of S. Ricard,
Traité general du commerce (Amsterdam), ‘aux depens de la compagnie’.
This accounting manual was published by the Vis unita major company.
In 1722 — when Struyck wrote his letter — the fourth edition of Ricard’s
Traité just had been published by the widow of Jacques Desbordes, whose
son and successor with the same name was one of the members of this
publishers’ company. This fourth edition had been edited by the Amster-
dam mathematician Henri Desaguliers, a relative — perhaps an uncle —

of the English Newtonian John Theophilus Desaguliers, probably already
with the assistance of Nicolaas Struyck, who at that time was established
as a teacher of mathematics and accounting. Cf. H.J. Zuidervaart, ‘Early
quantification of scientific knowledge: Nicolaas Struyck (1686–1769) as
collector of empirical gathered data’, in: P. Klep and I.H. Stamhuis (eds),
The statistical mind in a pre-statistical era: the Netherlands, 1750–1850
(Amsterdam 2002), pp. 125–148.
73 N. Struyck to J.N. de l’Isle, 4 April 1722: ‘Par cette occasion j’ai aussi decou-
verte des fautes dans le livre de Mr. Newton Philo: Nat: Princ: Math: qui sont
dans la premiere & deuxieme edition & parce qu’on en fait ici une Troisième
dont Le Professeur s’Gravesande (qui est Membre de La Societé Royale de
l’Angleterre) aura le soin, je le lui ai fait savoir’ (Observatoire de Paris, Corr.
Delisle, vol. II, no. 41). Cf. H.J. Zuidervaart, Van ‘konstgenoten’ en hemelse
fenomenen. Nederlandse sterrenkunde in de achttiende eeuw (Rotterdam
58
1999), p. 26 note 13; p. 99 note 1.
74 The second Amsterdam printing of 1723 has an addendum containing
Newton’s Analysis per quantitatum series, fluxiones, ac differentias, cum
enumeratione linearum tertii ordinis. This section of 10 + 107 pages has

its own title page (Amsterdam: Sumptibus Societatis, MDCCXXIII) and a
preface by W. Jones. This part is a reprint of a book published in London
in 1711. Cf.Cohen, Introduction to Newton’s Principia (note 58), pp. 256–257.
75 Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne 3:1 (1715), pp. 42–44. Cf. Vermij, ‘Amster-
dam mathematical amateurs’ (note 29), p. 197.
76 On Ten Kate, see: H. Th. van Veen, ‘Devotie en esthetiek bij Lambert ten
Kate’, Doopsgezinde bijdragen 21 (1995), pp. 63–96; J. Noordegraaf and M.
van der Wal, ‘Lambert ten Kate and Linguistics’, in: Ten Kate, Aenleiding
tot de kennisse van het verheven deel der Nederduitse sprake, facsimile edi-
tion with an introduction (Alphen aan den Rijn 2001), pp. 2–32; H. Miede-
ma, Denkbeeldig schoon. Lambert ten Kates opvattingen over beeldende
kunst (Leiden 2006); and the contribution by Dijksterhuis in this volume.
77 L. ten Kate, Den Schepper en Zyn bestier te kennen in Zyne schepselen; vol-
gens het licht der reden en wiskonst. ter opbouw van eerbiedigen godsdienst,
en vernietiging van alle grondslag van atheistery; alsmede tot een rechtzin-
nig gebruyck van de philosophy (Amsterdam 1716).
78 Ibid., page no **2/r.
79 Ibid., pages no. **2r-**2/v. Ten Kate refers also to the Scholium.
80 See Knoef in this volume.
81 Kegel-Brinkgreve and Luyendijk-Elshout, Boerhaave’s Orations (note 3),
pp. 160–162.
82 Ibid. 176.
83 J. van Sluis, Herman Alexander Röell (Leeuwarden/Ljouwert 1988), pp.
62–63 and passim.
84 Bots, Tussen Descartes en Darwin (note 1). In many aspects, Nieuwentijt’s

work resembled John Ray’s The wisdom of God and William Derham’s
Physico-theology, but in the ‘Voorrede’ of his Het regt gebruik der wereldbe-
schouwingen (1715), Nieuwentijt writes that he only saw the works of Ray
and Derham when his own book was nearly finished. See also: Vermij,
Secularisering (note 4).
85 On ’s Gravesande, see: C. de Pater, Welzijn, wijsbegeerte en wetenschap:
Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande (Baarn 1990); P. Schuurman, Ideas, mental fac-
ulties and method: the logic of ideas of Descartes and Locke and its recep-
tion in the Dutch Republic, 1630–1750 (Leiden 2004), pp. 129–155.
86 De Volder’s real successor had been Jacques Bernard (1658–1718), a Lei-
den Walloon minister, who was appointed a lector in mathematics and
philosophy in 1705, being promoted to full professor in 1712. ’s Gravesande
was also appointed professor in philosophy in 1734.
87 W.J. ’s Gravesande, De matheseos in omnibus scientiis praecipue in physicis
usu (Leiden 1717), p. 14. 59
88 Ibidem, p. 16.
89 ’s Gravesande, Physices (1719–1721), vol. 1, ‘Praefatio’, sig *3. See also
the Dutch translation by J. Engelman, Wiskundige grondbeginselen der
natuurkunde [...] ofte inleiding tot de newtoniaanse wysbegeerte (1743),
‘Voorrede’: ‘Al wie de schriften [...] over de natuurkunde [...] vergeleken
heeft, zal naulyks in twyffel kunnen trekken, of met dien naam worden ge-
heel verschillende wetenschappen bedoeld, terwyl ze allen voorgeven de
waare oirzaak der natuurlyke verschynselen te onvouwen.’ On Engelman,
see R. van Raak, ‘De sneeuwtheologie van Jan Engelman. Een poging tot
een newtoniaanse wijsbegeerte’, Geschiedenis van de wijsbegeerte in Ne-
derland 7 (1996), pp. 99–116.
90 P. de Clercq, At the sign of the oriental lamp: the Musschenbroek workshop
in Leiden, 1660–1750 (Rotterdam 1997), pp. 73–102.
91 G. V. Sutton, Science for a polite society: gender, culture and the demonstra-
tion of Enlightenment (Boulder 1995), pp. 213–232.
92 R. E. Schofield, The Enlightenment of Joseph Priestley: a study in his life and
work from 1733 to 1773 (University Park, PA 1997), p. 24.
93 A bibliography can be found in: De Pater, Welzijn, wijsbegeerte en weten-
schap (note 85), p. 152. Two translations were made by former students of
’s Gravesande: a French translation by Elie de Joncourt, professor in Bois-
le-duc, was issued in 1743–1746 and a Dutch translation by Jan Engelman,
a physician and leader of the Haarlem Natuur- en Sterrenkundig Collegie,
was published in 1743. Work on the Dutch edition stalled, however, and
the second volume was never published, probably due to a disappointing
turnover. This is perhaps an indication of a lack of interest in the mathe-
matical approach of Newtonianism among most Dutch enthusiasts.
94 ’s Gravesande to Newton, 1/24 June 1718. Published in: Hall, ‘Further New-
ton correspondence’ (note 28), pp. 7–34, esp. 32.

95 On natural theology and the turn to physico-theology in the Dutch
Republic, see: Bots, Tussen Descartes en Darwin (note 4); Vermij, Secula-
risering en natuurwetenschap (note 4); H.J. Zuidervaart, ‘Het Natuurbeeld
van Johannes de Mey (1617–1678), hoogleraar filosofie aan de Illustere
School te Middelburg’, Archief. Mededelingen van het Koninklijk Zeeuws
Genootschap der Wetenschappen (2001), pp. 1–40; Van der Wall, ‘Newtoni-
anism and religion in the Netherlands’ (note 42); Jorink, Reading the Book
of Nature (note 5).
96 J. Ray, De werelt van haar begin tot haar einde. of dry natuurkundige godge-
leerde redeneringen (Rotterdam 1696).
97 Jacques Lufneu had finished his study at Leiden University in 1718 and
Abraham van Loon in 1720.
98 Cf. Baillon, ‘Early eighteenth-century Newtonianism’ (note 65), pp. 533–
548.
60
99 Cf. G. Bonno, ‘Locke et son traducteur français Pierre Coste, avec huit
lettres inédites de Coste à Locke’, Revue de littérature comparée 33 (1959),
pp. 161–179; G.A.J. Rogers, S. Hutton and P. Schuurman, ‘Pierre Coste, John
Locke, and the Third Earl of Shaftesbury’, in: S. Hutton and P. Schuurman
(eds), Studies on Locke: sources, contemporaries, and legacy, International
Archives of the History of Ideas/Archives Internationales d’Histoire des
Idées, no. 197 (Dordrecht 2008).
100 S. Schaffer, ‘Glass works: Newton’s prism and the uses of experiment’, in:
D. Gooding, Trevor J. Pinch and S. Schaffer (eds), The uses of experiment:
studies in the natural sciences (Cambridge 1989), p. 96.
101 The printing date is marked at the end of volume 2. Desaguliers’ assis-
tance is credited in the author’s preface. Cf. I. Newton, Traité d’optique
sur les réflexions, réfractions, inflexions, et les couleurs, de la lumière [...]
traduit de l’anglois par M. Coste sur la seconde édition, augmentée par l’au-
teur (Amsterdam: Pierre Humbert 1720).
102 Coste, ‘Preface du traducteur’ in: Newton, Traité d’optique (note 101),
xxii-xiii.
103 Baillon, ‘Early eighteenth-century Newtonianism’ (note 65).
104 A nice example is the Mennonite David van Mollem, who used physical
principles in his silk factory. A family portrait of Van Mollem is adorned
with scientific instruments, such as a pyrometer and a tellurium. In 1736
Petrus van Musschenbroek dedicated his Beginsels der natuurkunde to
Van Mollem.
105 Van der Star, Fahrenheit’s letters to Leibniz and Boerhaave (Amsterdam
1983); Lambert ten Kate, ‘Lettre’, in: Bibliothèque ancienne et moderne 7:2
(1717), pp. 223–231. See in more detail the contribution of Fokko Jan Dijk-
sterhuis to this volume.
106 The text of the prospectus of Fahrenheit’s lessons for 1721–1722 is pub-
lished by E. Cohen and W.A.T. Cohen-De Meester, ‘Daniël Gabriel Fah-

renheit (geb. te Dantzig 24 mei 1686, overl. te ’s-Gravenhage 16 sept. 1736),
[part] I’, Chemisch weekblad 33 (1936), pp. 1–58; [part] II, Chemisch week-
blad 34 (1937), pp. 1–11.
107 Cf. H.J. Zuidervaart, ‘Meest alle van best mahoniehout vervaardigd. Het
kabinet van filosofische instrumenten van de doopsgezinde kweekschool
te Amsterdam, 1761–1828’, Gewina. tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der
geneeskunde, natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 29 (2006), pp.
81–112, rpt in: Doopsgezinde bijdragen, new series 34 (2008), pp. 63–104.
108 I. Newton, De historie der aloude volkeren opgeheldert, en in eene naauw-
keurige tydorde geplaatst: benevens eene korte kronyk van de eerste bek-
ende gebeurtenissen in Europe, tot de verovering van Persië door Alexander
den Grooten (Delft 1737). This book was reissued with an altered title page
in 1763. The Dutch edition was already announced in the Leydsche cou-
rant of 29 October 1736.
109 Abraham de Vryer from Delft, the Dutch translator of Newton’s De his- 61
torie der aloude volkeren opgeheldert, was a Mennonite merchant, bro-
ker and, possibly, a ‘vermaner’ (preacher). For the same Delft publisher,
Pieter van der Kloot, he also translated another (original English) work:
[Sherlock], Pleidooi over de geloofwaerdigheid der getuigen (1736). In the
late 1730s De Vryer moved to Amsterdam where he adapted two disputed
biographies: the Histori van François Eugenius, prins van Savoije-Soissons
(Amsterdam 1737) and the Histori van Joan Churchil, hertog van Marlbor-
ough en prins van Mindelheim, 4 volumes (Amsterdam 1738–1740), both
published by J. Loveringh and J. Roman de jonge. He also worked on the
disputed translation of George Anson, Reize rondsom de werreld, gedaan
in de jaaren 1740 tot 1744 (Amsterdam 1748), published by Isaac Tirion. De
Vryer’s work was fiercely attacked by the Delft publisher Reinier Boitet.
See: the Leydsche courant, 13 February 1737, and the ‘Opdragt aan de
Nederlandsche boekhandelaars’, page xvi, in: George Anson, Echt verhael
der reistogt rondsom den aardkloot (Delft 1749). De Vryer died in 1748 as a
broker in Amsterdam.
110 For Desaguliers’ tour in Holland, see: M.J. van Lieburg, ‘De geneeskunde
en natuurwetenschappen binnen de Rotterdamse geleerde genootschap-
pen uit de 18e eeuw’, Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der geneeskunde,
natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 1 (1978), pp. 14–22 and 124–
143; and Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 69).
111 This relative was Henri Desaguliers, born around 1662 in La Rochelle,
France, the same city where John Theophilus Desaguliers’ father, Jean
(1644–1699), originated. Jean had fled to England in 1692, where he kept
a French boarding school in Islington. Henri probably had settled around
the same time as an ‘accountant’ in Amsterdam, where on 18 December
1700 he married Elisabeth Hoguel (1677–1731), from Dieppe. From 1701
onwards he published several books on accounting as well as on navi-

gation. He must have died shortly before 1732, for in July of that year his
son Carel Hendrik Desaguliers (*1704) placed an advertisement in the
Amsterdamsche courant, stating that he would continue the mathematics
lessons given by his deceased father. Persons interested in these lessons
were requested to subscribe in the bookshop of Jacques Desbordes, one
of the publishers from the Vis unita major company and in 1738 one of the
publisher of Voltaire’s Elemens de la philosophie de Newton. Cf. Zuider-
vaart, Konstgenoten (note 69), pp. 448 and 472; and P.C.J. van der Krogt,
Advertenties voor kaarten, atlassen, globes, e.d. in Amsterdamse kranten,
1621–1811 (Utrecht 1985), pp. 352 and 605.
112 B. Nieuwentyt, The religious philosopher, translated from the Dutch by John
Chamberlayne, with a prefatory letter by J.Th. Desaguliers (London 1718–
1719); W.J. ’s Gravesande, The mathematical elements of natural philosophy,
confirmed by experiments, or an introduction to Sir Isaac Newton’s philoso-
62
phy, translated from the Latin by J.Th. Desaguliers (London 1721).
113 J. Th. Desaguliers, Een begryp van de mechanische en experimentele philos-
ophie. Waar door een yder, hoewel onervaren in de wiskundige wetenschap-
pen in staat werd gestelt, om te verstaan de verscheidene (phaenomena)

verschynselen of werkingen, die zig in de natuur opdoen (Rotterdam 1731).
The only known copy is in the Municipal Library of Rotterdam, pamphlet
1731, no. 16. See also: J.A. van Reijn, ‘John Theophilus Desaguliers’, Thoth,
tijdschrift voor vrijmetselaren 34:5 (1983), pp. 165–203, esp. p. 193, who cites
a printed announcement (‘bekentmakinge’), which was collated into a
manuscript with notes of Desaguliers’ course — until 1940 this was pres-
ent in the library of the Bataafsch Genootschap der Proefondervindelijke
Wijsbegeerte (Batavian Society of Experimental Philosophy) at Rotter-
dam.
114 Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 69), pp. 71–77.
115 H.J. Zuidervaart, ‘Science for the public: the translation of popular texts
on experimental philosophy in the Dutch language in mid-eighteenth
century’, in: S. Stockhorst (ed.), The circulation of Enlightened thought in
Europe by means of translation (Amsterdam, New York 2010), pp. 231–262,
esp. pp. 243–247. See also the prospectus for this Dutch edition in the
Amsterdam University Library, shelf mark KVB PPA 645:20.
116 Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 69). See also: idem, ‘Cabinets for experi-
mental philosophy in the Netherlands’, in: J.Bennett and S. Talas (eds),
Making science public in 18th-century Europe: the role of cabinets of exper-
imental philosophy [provisional title], History of Science and Medicine
Library: Scientific Instruments and Collections, vol. 3 (Leiden/Boston in
press).
117 N. Struyck to J.N. de I’Isle, 4 April 4 1722 (Observatoire de Paris, Corr. Del-
isle, vol. II, no. 34).
118 N. Struyck, Inleiding tot de algemeene geographie, benevens eenige ster-

rekundige en andere verhandelingen (Amsterdam 1740).
119 B. Varenius, Geographia generalis (Amsterdam 1650) was enlarged by
Isaac Newton in the edition of 1672. The Dutch translation of 1750 was
edited by Nicolaas Struyck, in cooperation with two fellow mathemati-
cians from Haarlem, Dirk Klinkenberg and Jacob de Bucqoy. Cf. Varenius
(1650).
120 Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 69); idem, ‘Astronomische waarne-
mingen en wetenschappelijke contacten van Jan de Munck (1687–1768),
stadsarchitect van Middelburg’, Archief. Mededelingen van het Koninklijk
Zeeuws Genootschap der Wetenschappen (1987), pp. 103–170; idem, Spec-
ulatie, wetenschap en vernuft. Fysica en astronomie volgens Wytze Foppes
Dongjuma (1707–1778), instrumentmaker te Leeuwarden (Leeuwarden/
Ljouwert 1995).
121 D. Klinkenberg, ‘Kort berigt wegens eene comeet-sterre, die zich in den
jaare 1757 of 1758, volgens het systema van Newton, Halley, en andere ster- 63
rekundigen, zal vertoonen’, Verhandelingen, uitgegeeven door de Holland-
sche Maatschappij der Wetenschappen 2 (1755), pp. 275–318.
122 C.B. Waff, ‘The first international Halley Watch: guiding the worldwide
search for Comet Halley, 1755–1759’, in: N. J.W. Thrower (ed.), Standing on
the shoulders of giants: a longer view of Newton and Halley (Berkeley 1990),
pp. 373–411; Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 69).
123 J. Schim, ‘Aanmerkingen over den loop der staartster, die eerlang ver-
wagt wort, en in ’t jaar 1682 verscheenen is’, Verhandelingen, uitgegeeven
door de Hollandsche Maatschappij der Wetenschappen 4 (1758), pp. 490–
505. Interestingly, in February 1759 the German mathematician Johann
Friedrich Hennert, then living in The Hague, communicated Schim’s
results to the French mathematician Alexis-Claude Clairaut, who was
also engaged in a large calculating project to estimate the comet’s per-
turbations. Clairaut’s prediction of the perihelion passage for April 1759
appeared to be very accurate. Cf. Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 69), pp.
188–190.
124 De Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (note 1).
125 Van Musschenbroek to Newton, 12/23 February 1726. Published in: Hall,
‘Further Newton correspondence’ (note 28), pp. 7–34.
126 A.A.M. de Haan, Het wijsgerig onderwijs aan het gymnasium illustre en de
hogeschool te Harderwijk, 1599–1811 (Harderwijk 1960); idem, ‘Geschiede-
nis van het wijsgerig onderwijs te Deventer’, in: H.W. Blom et al., Deventer
Denkers (Hilversum 1993), pp. 29–122; S.H.M. Galama, Het wijsgerig onder-
wijs te Franeker, 1585–1811 (Franeker 1954), and F. Sassen, Het wijsgerig
onderwijs aan de Illustre School te ’s-Hertogenbosch (1636–1810) (Amster-
dam 1963).
127 C. de Pater, ‘Nicolaus Engelhard (1696–1765) en zijn kritiek op de Begin-
selen der natuurkunde van Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761): wolf-

fianisme versus newtonianisme’, Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der
geneeskunde, natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 13:2 (1990), pp.
141–162; Schuurman, Ideas, mental faculties and method (note 85).
128 E. Jorink. ‘In conflict met de Groningse theologen’ in: J. van Maanen (ed.),
Een complexe grootheid. leven en werken van Johann Bernoulli, 1667–1748
(Utrecht 1995), pp. 49–68; H. A. Krop, J.A. van Ruler and A.J. Vanderjagt
(eds), Zeer kundige professoren. beoefening van de filosofie in Groningen
van 1614 tot 1996 (Hilversum 1997).
129 G.W. Kernkamp, Acta et decreta senatus. vroedschapsresolutien en andere
bescheiden betreffende de Utrechtse Academie, 2 vols (Utrecht 1938), vol. 2,
p. 367; C. Hakfoort, ‘Christian Wolff tussen Cartesianen en Newtonianen’,
Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der geneeskunde, natuurwetenschappen,
wiskunde en techniek 5 (1982), pp. 27–38.
130 P. de Clercq, ‘Science at court: the eighteenth-century cabinet of scientif-
64
ic instruments and models of the Dutch stadholders’, Annals of science 45
(1988), pp. 113–152.
131 Van Musschenbroek to Newton, 12/23 February 1726. Published in: Hall,
‘Further Newton correspondence’ (note 28), pp. 7–34.

132 R. Vermij, ‘Johannes Lulofs als vertegenwoordiger van het newtonianisme
in de republiek’, Gewina. Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der geneeskunde,
natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 22 (1999), pp. 136–150.
133 See for instance: W. Hackman, ‘Electricity in eighteenth-century Holland:
a Newtonian legacy’, in: P.B Scheurer and G. Debrock (eds), Newton’s sci-
entific and philosophical legacy (Dordrecht 1988), pp. 175–182.
134 Popular Dutch translations referring to Newtonianism, published in the
second half of the century, included [John Newberry], Philosophie der
tollen en ballen of het Newtoniaansche zamenstel van wysbegeerte [...] door
Tom Telescope (Middelburg 1758; reissued 1783) and Francesco Algarot-
ti, De newtoniaansche wysbegeerte voor de vrouwen, of samenspraaken
over het licht, de kleuren en de aantrekkingskragt (Amsterdam n.d. [c.
1768]; Utrecht 17752). For these and other translations of experimental
philosophy, see: M.R. Wielema, ‘Christiaan Wolff in het Nederlands. de
achttiende-eeuwse vertalingen van zijn Duitstalig oeuvre (1738–1768)’,
Geschiedenis van de wijsbegeerte in Nederland 1 (1990), pp. 55–72; idem,
Ketters en verlichters: de invloed van het spinozisme en wolffianisme op de
Verlichting in gereformeerd Nederland (Thesis, VU University Amsterdam,
1999), and Zuidervaart, ‘Science for the public’ (note 109).
135 ‘Een Newton deedt ons eenen ’s Gravesande zien, eenen Musschen-
broek, en deeze beide hebben ons mannen uitgeleverd, welke nog heden
uitblinken in Staats regeering, en aan onze hooge Schoolen. Hoe veele
Kooplieden vindt men niet nog van dien tyd, welke zig bezig houden
met Optische proeven te doen, en die te verbeteren? Wy moogen nog
op enkele Regenten roemen, welker voorkameren opgevuld zyn, met de

schoonste konst stukken om de Mechanica, de Hydrostatica, en derzelver
eigenschappen te toonen, en Astronomische waarneemingen te doen.
Dus was de staat van ons land in de verledene eeuw, en in het begin van
deeze. Duizend ontdekkingen, welke eer doen aan het Opperwezen, en
eene kroon zyn voor het menschelyk vernuft, wierden dagelyks gemaakt
in de Sterrekunde zoo wel als natuurlyke historie. De Groote Boerhaave,
de voorstander, de beschermer, het voorbeeld van goeden smaak, was
naulyks dood, of alles verviel. Winkler deedt ons de verhevene Astro-
nomische onderzoekingen verruilen tegen de onnoozele Electrische
proefneemingen: [...] Hoe ellendig Wolf den goeden smaak van Newton
en Locke bedorven heeft, zult gy beter, dan ik, beoordeelen konnen.’ De
Denker, no. 133 (15 July 1765), pp. 217–218.
136 Cf. P. Fara, Newton: the making of genius (London 2001).
137 Cf. Petry, Hemsterhuis (note 41).
138 ‘Ô Groote Newton! die de kragten der Natuur, Haare eew’ge wetten op ’t 65
naauwkeurigst kost bereeknen’, Moens (1802), p. 19, quoted in Van der
Wall, ‘Newtonianism and religion in the Netherlands’ (note 42), p. 493.
139 Isaac Newton was, for instance, used as an iconic figure by the Amster-
dam Mennonite publisher Frans Houttuyn (c. 1719–1765), who named his
bookshop ‘Isaac Newton’, and included Newton’s portrait in his printer’s
mark.
140 See: L. Stewart, The rise of public science: rhetoric, technology and natu-
ral philosophy in Newtonian Britain, 1660–1750 (Cambridge 1995), for the
locally adapted use of Newtonianism in England.
141 Vermij, The Calvinist Copernicans (note 11), p. 349, emphasis added.
Servant of Two Masters

Fatio de Duillier between Christiaan Huygens
and Isaac Newton
ROB ILIFFE
For a brief period at the end of the seventeenth century, the young 67
Swiss scholar Nicolas Fatio de Duiller (1664–1753) appeared to be
S E RVANT OF T WO MAST E RS
on the brink of joining the front rank of mathematicians and natu-
ral philosophers. An acknowledged expert in differential and integral
calculus at a time when mathematicians were forging foundational
techniques in these areas, he was also in possession of a theory of
gravitation that synthesized the best elements of the work of the two
outstanding natural philosophers of the period, Christiaan Huygens
(1629–1695) and Isaac Newton (1642–1727). Indeed, Fatio benefitted
from an exceptionally close intellectual relationship between the two
men, and was able to work in intimate collaboration with two very dif-
ferent individuals, whose interests spanned a wide range of subjects.
Initially Huygens’ chief representative in England, he later became a
passionate advocate of Newton, whose mathematical and scientif-
ic achievements he valued more highly than those of anyone else. A
number of historians have suggested that Fatio and Newton had some
sort of physical relationship, although there is no evidence for this.
However, it is true that the latter exhibited far more concern over the
health and well-being of Fatio than for any other individual on record.1
Fatio evidently had a plan for a meteoric career and for five years
he managed the apparently impossible task of serving two powerful
masters. However, he had to balance a requirement to impress and
represent his patrons with the need to develop a proper standing in
the field. For some time in the early 1690s he was apparently close to
having his own theory of gravity appear at the front of a new edition of
the Principia mathematica — which was to be completely transformed

under his editorship. In this essay I examine the difficulties Fatio
encountered in creating and maintaining his own intellectual prop-
erty in a highly competitive philosophical and mathematical environ-
ment. I show that although he enjoyed unrivalled access to Huygens
and Newton, he lacked the personal and financial resources to obtain
the independence from them that he needed to forge his own career.
His early proximity to Huygens enabled him to become the chief rep-
resentative of the Huygenian philosophy when he went to England
in 1687. A few years later, the roles were reversed, and he became the
chief source of information for Newton’s science and mathematics in
the Netherlands.
Fatio’s relationship with Huygens has received much less atten-
tion than his dealings with Newton, but it is equally interesting. The
68 Dutchman showed a great concern and respect for Fatio over a num-
ber of years and he worked closely with the Swiss scholar when the
latter stayed with him in 1691. However, their mutual regard lessened
when Huygens tried to broker an exchange of integration techniques
between Fatio and Gottfried Leibniz (1646–1716) at the end of 1691.
Both Fatio and Leibniz had made progress in one of the most diffi-
cult areas of calculus, and each had developed techniques that they
guarded jealously. However, Fatio’s attitude to both his own and Leib-
niz’s achievements was dramatically transformed by his encounter
with Newton’s mathematical work at the end of 1691, and his views of
Leibniz’s originality and intellectual virtue, already less than positive,
were severely diminished as a result. To his chagrin, Huygens failed to
facilitate communication between the younger scholars and he died
in 1695, having played a major role in instigating the great priority dis-
pute over the invention of the calculus that was soon to erupt between
Leibniz and Newton.
The prodigy
Born into a wealthy family in 1664, Fatio attended the Académie de
Genève, where his talent was nurtured by John-Robert Chouet (1642–
1731), rector of the Academy from 1679. Chouet was a pronounced
Cartesian whose influence on the curriculum resulted in a much
greater emphasis on physics and mathematics. With the support of
Chouet Fatio made his way to Paris in early 1683, where he learned
sophisticated astronomical theory and practice with the director of
the Observatoire, Jean-Dominique Cassini (1625–1712). In 1685 Chouet

communicated Fatio’s work on the zodiacal light recently discovered
by Cassini to the journal Les nouvelles de la république, and its editor,
Pierre Bayle (1647–1706), commented on Fatio’s excellent mathemat-
ical training. Cassini himself commented that Fatio had all the quali-
ties essential to a gentleman.2
Although it went against the wishes of his parents, Fatio set out to
forge an identity as a major player in the scientific Republic of Letters.
A chance encounter offered him a very different source of patronage
and he became associated both with the Dutch States-General and
with the court of William of Orange (1650–1702). Having returned to
his father’s estate in 1685 as a result of the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes, he came into conversation with a Count Fenil, who apparently
told Fatio of a plan to kidnap the prince. Fatio relayed this information
to Gilbert Burnet (1643–1715), by then a close confidant of William. 69
Fatio travelled back to Holland with Burnet in the spring of 1686, and
as a result of his information the States-General tried to set up a chair
in mathematics for Fatio. This idea, resurrected a few times over the
following decade, never came to fruition.3
Nevertheless, Fatio’s sojourn in the Netherlands did enable him to
meet Christiaan Huygens at The Hague, and for a number of months
over the winter of 1686–1687 they worked closely together on various
topics, including the shape of snowflakes and finding tangents to com-
plex curves. Huygens recognized Fatio as an outstandingly talented
younger mathematician whose work and career he could support, and
got Fatio to locate and publish errors in the recently published works
on tangents (i.e. differentiation techniques) of Ehrenfred Walther von
Tschirnhaus (1651–1708). This brought Fatio to the attention of the
mathematical community but it was his work on the ‘inverse prob-
lem of tangents’ (the solution of differential equations, i.e. finding the
equation of a curve whose tangent is given), whose results he sent in
a letter to Huygens in June 1687, that was most significant and which
would soon bring him into conflict with Leibniz.4
At some point early in 1687 Fatio decided to visit England, a move
prompted both by a delay in organizing his professorial position, and
also by a wish to acquire the patronage of Robert Boyle (1627–1691).
He already cut an impressive figure, and Burnet told Boyle in early
1687 that Fatio was ‘one of the greatest men of this age [who] seems
born to carry learning far beyond what it has attained’. Fatio duly met
Boyle and learned of the content of the imminent Principia mathemat-

ica. When it appeared in the summer it was the talk of the town. Its
first readers were stunned by its contents, for Newton’s three laws of
motion and his theory of universal gravitation united the laws that
governed celestial and terrestrial phenomena and accounted for the
tides, the shape of the Earth and the paths of comets and planets. In
the same letter in which he revealed his solution to the inverse meth-
od of tangents, Fatio informed Huygens that he had already been to
three meetings of the Royal Society and that he had been reproached
for being too much of a Cartesian. Fatio clearly wrote as a client when
he remarked that Newton should have consulted Huygens over the
principle of attraction, and he reminded Huygens that while in Hol-
land he had stated that the latter’s explanation of gravity would give
sufficiently probable reasons to explain the tides. In his well-known
70 reply to Fatio, Huygens noted that he hoped Newton did not make use
of the doctrine of attractions.5
Fatio sought to stay in London but his father urged him to return to
Geneva and apparently withdrew financial aid, an action that would
have serious consequences for Fatio’s later career. Having realized that
the Royal Society did not give financial support for research, even to
scholars as talented as himself, Fatio redoubled his efforts to procure
patronage, and wrote to Boyle in January 1688 to see if he could gain
employment as a tutor. In May 1688 he informed Huygens that he had
made plans to stay in England for another year but this involved tutor-
ing the son of one of his friends. It would be preferable, he said, if at
the end of this period he could return to work with Huygens at The
Hague.6
As England lurched towards political revolution in the summer
and autumn, Fatio spent much of his time as a tutor, working when
he could on mathematical problems and his theory of gravity. He gave
a talk on the latter subject at the Royal Society in June 1688, claiming
that his notions had been ‘embraced’ by Huygens, although in later
notes he remarked that he had also added his own thoughts. In July
he read a more detailed account of the theory at one of their meet-
ings, explaining gravity in terms of an aetherial vortex that revolved
around the Earth every eighty-five minutes. As before, it was difficult
to separate his own views from those of Huygens, although he told his
audience that he was essentially presenting Huygens’ theory. Over the
next year and a half he would develop a much more extensive theory
of his own, this time incorporating a number of Newtonian elements.7

Ironically, just as news filtered through from Fatio about the con-
tents of the Principia, Huygens completed a major rewriting of a the-
ory of gravitation that he had initially composed in 1669. He received
a presentation copy of Newton’s work in September or October 1687
and immediately reconsidered his explanations of gravitation and
the shape of the Earth. In December 1687 he endorsed Newton’s claim
that he had destroyed Cartesian vortices and lauded Newton for his
treatment of comets. Throughout 1688 he spent a great deal of time
immersed in the Principia, and he praised Newton for showing that
gravitation was centripetal and operated according to an inverse
square law that retained planets in elliptical orbits. Nevertheless, his
commitment to the ontological and epistemological demands of the
mechanical philosophy meant that he could not allow the existence
of an immaterial universal gravitation, especially one that operated 71
between tiny particles separated at incomprehensibly large distances.
At the same time, he filtered data from the ongoing trials of his pen-
dulum clocks aboard the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde
Oost-Indische Compagnie [VOC]) ship Alkmaar, which provided him
with information about the shape of the Earth suggesting that the
planet was an oblate spheroid, but not as flat as Newton had suggest-
ed. He referred to this data in a report written to the directors of the
VOC in April 1688.8
Fatio’s prospects improved in January 1689, in the immediate wake
of the Glorious Revolution, when the author of the Principia came
down to London in a political capacity. Newton had stood as a can-
didate for the Convention (as one of the two representatives of the
university) and against the odds, had won a seat. Probably no earli-
er than the spring, he made contact with Fatio and they undoubted-
ly discussed a range of issues in optics, mechanics and mathematics.
The subject of alchemy formed a significant part of their discussions
and indeed they corresponded on the subject, although these letters
are now lost. By October Newton was sufficiently familiar with Fatio
that he could confide to him exceptionally impolitic comments about
Boyle, and he asked what must have been a delighted Fatio whether
he could lodge with him during the imminent session of Parliament.9
Newton and Fatio were also close at this time to the radical Whig MP
John Hampden (1631–1695), a remarkable man who had studied with
Richard Simon (1638–1712) while in Paris in the early 1680s, and who
had later sponsored some of his researches. Fatio and Hampden were
in Newton’s company on many occasions over the summer, and were
instrumental in pushing for Newton’s ultimately unsuccessful attempt
to become provost of King’s College, Cambridge, in the summer of
1689. By November, Fatio was an ardent admirer of Newton, describ-
ing him to Chouet in November as ‘le plus honnête homme’ he had met,
and the ablest mathematician who had ever lived. If he had 100,000
écus, he told Chouet, he would erect great statues and a monument to
Newton. Fatio lodged in Hampden’s London residence over the winter
of 1689/90, called Hampden his ‘intimate friend’, and earned a small
salary from tutoring one of Hampden’s nephews. He would remain in
close contact with Hampden for the following two years.10
The Dutch contribution to the Glorious Revolution provided fur-
ther patronage opportunities. In the first place, Fatio’s champion, Gil-
72 bert Burnet, was one of the chief advisors to William of Orange, and
Fatio could look forward with confidence to Burnet’s support after the
Revolution. Secondly, as William quickly gained control in England

and Scotland at the end of 1688, Christiaan Huygens realized that the
central position of his brother, Constantijn (1628–1697) in William’s
entourage paved the way for his own translation to London. In the
middle of November 1688 he told Constantijn that he was pleased with
the progress of the expedition and on 20 December (O.S.) he confessed
how delighted he was that the venture had turned out so well. He out-
lined his desire to move to England, and emphasised his wish to meet
Newton, a man who had made ‘beautiful discoveries’. In March, with
the overwhelming success of the Williamite revolution now ensured,
Huygens told his brother that he would be leaving for England before
long, not for the coronation but in order to see what was going on in
the scientific world. There was little chance of conversation on scien-
tific matters in the Netherlands, and he told Constantijn that he had
spent the previous days in Leiden trying to publish treatises on light
and gravity that he had been polishing off over the winter. However,
paper was prohibitively dear and the world seemed more interested
in political news.11
Huygens arrived at Harwich on 1 June 1689 and was in London
(lodging with Constantijn at Hampton Court) five days later. On 10
June (O.S.) he met Boyle, then in the midst of his fascination with the
alchemical ‘red earth’, and indeed the possibility of turning lead into
gold featured heavily in their conversation. He met Newton and Fatio
at the meeting of the Royal Society on 12 June (O.S.) where he gave

presentations on his theory of gravity and on birefringence in Iceland
crystal (calcite). He and Newton discussed the nature of light, doubt-
less smoothing over the differences that had emerged when Newton
had first published his theory of light and colour in the early 1670s. At
this encounter, and probably at another on 30 June (O.S.) they must
have discussed their mutual theories of gravity as well as various
concepts and propositions in the Principia. In July Fatio, Newton and
Christiaan rode from Hampton Court to London (presumably having
met the day before), and in August Newton sent Huygens two small
demonstrations on motion in resisting media. The July meeting had
been convened in connection with the efforts by Fatio and John Hamp-
den to enlist the support of the Huygens brothers in the great quest to
gain Newton the provostship at King’s College. Through Constantijn,
they gained the support of William himself, but as we have seen, this 73
had little effect on the outcome. Huygens returned to the Netherlands
at the end of August, and for a while tried to obtain a senior adminis-
trative position. Despite the efforts of Constantijn, William apparently
decided that Christiaan was unsuitable for such a position.12
The intermediary
The personal encounter with Newton forced Huygens to once more
alter his theories of light and gravity, and he composed an extensive
‘Addition’ to his recast theory of gravity. Here he referred to the way
that the VOC data affected his account of the shape of the Earth; he
argued that it supported his own theory rather than Newton’s, though
he did not rule out the possibility that further data would give more
robust support for universal gravitation. He completed the revisions
to his treatises on light and gravity in The Hague, in a location that was
preferable to the ‘overly melancholic solitude’ of Hofwijk, the country
estate of the Huygens family at Voorburg. The single tome consisting
of the Discours sur la cause de la pesanteur and the Traité de la lumière
was published at the end of January 1690 and he immediately dis-
patched copies to English scholars. In the volume intended for Fatio,
Huygens marked two passages in the ‘Addition’ in which he denied
there could be a mechanical cause of universal gravitation, and where
he asserted his wave theory of light. He told Fatio that he had crafted
his comments in such a way that he believed Newton would not take
them badly, and pointed out that Fatio would almost certainly need to
help Newton with the French.13 In his letter Huygens remarked on the
fact that he had not heard from Fatio for a substantial period of time,
and indeed, Fatio was already providing indications of his unreliabil-
ity as a correspondent. Constantijn was unable to locate Fatio when
he tried to deliver Fatio’s copy of the Traité to him in February 1690.
Fatio was no longer at the Suffolk Street address where he had been
when Christiaan had visited him in 1689, and was by now staying with
Hampden. The other copies ultimately reached their intended recip-
ients through William Stanley, Queen Mary’s clerk of the closet and
Christiaan’s major contact in London. Believing that Fatio was lost
somewhere in Europe, Huygens showed extraordinary concern for his
protégé, telling Constantijn that if he failed to hear about Fatio from
Stanley, he (Christiaan) would have to write directly to Newton.14
On 24 February 1690 Fatio told Huygens that he had read his work
74 (actually Hampden’s copy) a number of times and with a singular
pleasure. With reference to Huygens’ overtly probabilistic stance, he
remarked that it would be a shame if the theory were not true. How-
ever, the same letter contained a new theory of his own, elements of
which must have been composed in great speed after reading Huy-
gens’ work. Two days later he read the letter as a paper at a meeting of
the Royal Society. Fatio had removed the notion of a circulating vortex
and had injected a number of Newtonian elements into his new the-
ory, in particular the notion that tiny, secondary particles were ‘agi-
tated’ in every direction. These particles were subject to innumerable
impacts caused by being first attracted and then reflected less power-
fully. Their interaction with the hard, massive parts of macro-objects
ultimately gave rise to the observed inverse square law. On 19 March he
got the endorsing signatures of Edmond Halley (1656–1742) and New-
ton on his manuscript of the theory, and later added that of Huygens.15
Fatio also relayed Newton’s views to Huygens, especially regarding
the question of what Newton thought about the cause of gravity. He
told Huygens that Newton would take perfectly well (‘recevra parfait-
ement bien’) what Huygens had said about his work and claimed that
Newton had ‘been ready on many occasions to correct his book on the
topics about which we have spoken; I can’t sufficiently admire his dex-
terity, especially in the places you attack’. Fatio showed a fair degree
of presumption in speaking on behalf of Newton, since the latter had
recently returned to Cambridge after his stint as an MP. Nevertheless,
Newton had told Fatio he was about to return to London, and on the
same day that he wrote to Huygens Fatio passed on to Newton Huy-

gens’ sound advice about the need to read the French texts in Lon-
don with himself. Newton arrived in London on about 10 March and
remained for over a month. He almost certainly lodged with Fatio and
the two of them worked closely on various topics. Fatio relayed the
tenets of the Discours to Newton and they collaborated in compiling a
list of errata from the Principia.16
Huygens’ response to Fatio’s theory of gravity was hardly ecstatic,
and he asked Fatio not to condemn him before understanding him.
Especially troubling was the excessive amount of void that Fatio had
designed into his system, and the fact that over time Fatio’s theory
entailed an increasing build up of matter on the surface of the plan-
et. In his reply Fatio defended his theory with vigour but was effusive
with compliments for Huygens. Nevertheless, he was forced to say that
Huygens had mistaken his comments as an objection to his treatise; 75
Huygens had done him a great honour in proposing objections to his
theory, and infelicities in his responses to Huygens’ own theory of Ice-
land crystal and gravity should be put down to the lack of time he had
had to prepare his text. He added that since he had seen Hampden’s
presentation copy very early on, he had also hoped that his speedy
response to Huygens’ objections might have been incorporated into
the standard print version of the text.17
Collaboration
Fatio left for the Netherlands in the spring of 1690 as tutor to two of
Hampden’s nephews, bearing his theory of gravity and a list of erra-
ta to Newton’s Principia. The need for financial support was clearly
pressing, and as before, he viewed his new employment as an unwel-
come diversion from his vocation. He complained to his brother
Jean-Christophe on 9 June that he had lost the opportunity to write
up his treatise on the cause of gravity, while there is an apocalyptic
tone in a letter written to his friend Nicolas Tourton soon afterwards,
instructing Tourton to leave a box of Fatio’s mathematical papers
with Newton as a sort of ‘mathematical legacy’. In two letters writ-
ten in July he told Huygens that his entourage had decided to stay a
few months in Utrecht, and that his teaching duties no longer left him
master of himself. Huygens, he wrote, should know how badly Fatio
wanted to be close to him, preferably in the ‘Hermitage’ at Hofwijk.
Although there is evidence that Fatio was suffering from depression
and religious doubts for much of this period, his letters indicate that
he perceived the lack of space and time for producing his own schol-
arly work as the chief cause of his existential angst — a situation that
could only be assuaged by being close to a patron.18
Fatio’s wish was granted early in the following year. From February
1691 he and Huygens worked closely together on a series of different
topics, including discussing errata to the Principia, the cause of colours
and gravity, and most importantly, mathematical techniques. These
concerned the determination of methods for finding tangents and the
development of Fatio’s ‘Rule’ for finding exact differential equations
by multiplying equations by the integrating factor xmyn. In May Fatio
told Boyle that he had reawakened Huygens’ passion for physics and
mathematics, which had been stifled due to a lack of suitable encour-
agement from other people. However, whether or not Fatio knew it,
76 his contribution was not as great as he had wished. Huygens had been
engaged in serious mathematical and scientific discussions with Leib-
niz for over a year, much of which concerned their responses to themes
in Newton’s Principia. Moreover, under the tuition of Johann Bernoul-
li (1667–1748), the Marquis de l’Hôpital (1661–1704) had emerged as a
major mathematical correspondent who gradually supplanted Fatio’s
place in Huygens’ world.19
Mathematical secrecy and a proliferation of circulating problems
and solutions characterised correspondence between mathemati-
cians in this period. Since Leibniz had referred to his own excellence
in the area of the inverse problem of tangents, Huygens told him at
the end of 1690 about Fatio’s work on the same topic. When Leibniz
asked him the following February if Fatio’s work in this area had satis-
fied him, Huygens informed Leibniz that Fatio was now at The Hague
and had visited him several times. Fatio had apparently perfected his
method up to a certain point; it did not require tables (which Leibniz
had claimed were required for his own method), but it could not deal
with roots containing unknowns. Leibniz was unwilling to release his
own technique but Huygens asked him if he could provide an inte-
gral solution to a curve that Huygens had nominated, and which Fatio
had been unable to solve. This would at least clarify the issue as to
how their techniques differed. Leibniz in turn mentioned his esteem
for Fatio and indicated that some sort of exchange of methods would
also be congenial. Having said that, to show Fatio that the curve in
question was squarable, Leibniz included his own solution, recasting
Huygens’ original remarks to make it appear that Fatio had thought it

could not be done because he himself had not succeeded.20
Huygens’ personal journal shows how closely he and Fatio cooper-
ated on different problems in the spring of 1691, many of which were
on applications of Fatio’s ‘Rule’. At various points he indicated to Leib-
niz that he and Fatio were engaged in collaborative work, although
Fatio’s notes indicate that he operated more easily in the language of
fluxions. In early May Huygens implied that both the methods of Leib-
niz and Fatio were equally meritorious, and again called for Leibniz
to send the explication of his technique. While he admired the power
of Leibniz’s method, he told Leibniz that he should be less opaque in
what he sent and should not assume that Huygens and Fatio under-
stood his differential calculus. Throughout the summer, Fatio contin-
ued to work with Huygens, and all three men consistently raised the
question of exchanging methods. Recognizing how close Fatio was 77
to Huygens, Leibniz suggested in September that both he and Fatio
should send their methods to an independent person in Bremen, so
that the transaction could be effected.21
Mathematical merchandise
Fatio returned abruptly from The Hague at the start of September
1691, lodging once more in Suffolk Street. He explained his return to
Newton as being caused by the death of one of his pupils from con-
sumption and offered to travel to Cambridge to let Newton in on the
marvellous secret of some ‘metallick remedys’ that had been prepared
by a friend of his. A few days later he told Huygens that he had left The
Hague in such a hurry that he had not had time to pick up Huygens’
‘orders’ for his visit to England; moreover, he had left behind his list of
Principia errata and asked Huygens to send it, presumably in prepa-
ration for his meeting with Newton. In reply Huygens mentioned that
he had searched for Fatio a fortnight earlier in order to give him the
errata, but had failed to locate him. He did prompt Leibniz about the
exchange of methods in November, noting that Fatio had taken back
with him the original letter explaining his rule. This letter, he said, had
been so seriously altered as a result of their collaborative work over
the summer, that it had become something entirely different from the
original. Now he lacked a clear statement of Fatio’s rule, and would
have to deduce it from the various problems on which they had been
working.22
Fatio’s return to England coincided with Newton’s resumption of

intense mathematical activity. On the one hand he had been spurred
into action by the imminent publication by the Scottish mathemati-
cian David Gregory (1659–1708) of a general method for integration by
series, a move that was embedded in a complex and sensitive web of
intellectual property issues. Fatio himself now drew a willing Newton
into his own campaign against Leibniz, and as a result of these twin
promptings Newton was galvanized into writing a general treatment
of integration (‘De quadratura curvarum’). In this he developed some
of the techniques underlying the second letter he had sent Leibniz in
1676 (the ‘Epistola posterior’) and he dealt extensively with the inverse
problem of tangents.23
In a letter to Fatio of early December, Huygens also mentioned that
he had now received an account — of sorts — of Leibniz’s inverse meth-
78 od of tangents. This was prompted by his irritation at Leibniz’s offer to
have the matter handled by a third party, as if, Huygens noted, Leibniz
doubted Huygens’ word. However, Huygens told Fatio that Leibniz’s

explanation was obscure, and that he hadn’t yet got to the bottom of it.
Ominously, he told Fatio that since the latter was less versed than Huy-
gens in the differential calculus, it would not be useful to pass on what
Leibniz had sent him, at least until he got clarification from Leibniz.
Again Huygens noted diplomatically that although Leibniz’s method
did not exclude roots, Fatio’s technique could resolve ‘an infinity’ of
different cases.24
Fatio had presumably already seen some or all of ‘De quadratura’ by
the time he replied to Huygens in the middle of December. For the first
time he displayed irritation with Huygens, noting that he did under-
stand the differential calculus ‘fort bien’. This was despite the notori-
ous errors that had marred the initial printing of Leibniz’s method for
the differential calculus in 1684 — so numerous, Fatio claimed, that
one could almost believe they had been made by design. Referring to
the famous ‘fluxions’ Lemma (book 2, lemma 2) in the Principia, he
stated that he believed Newton was ‘sans difficulté’ the first author of
the differential calculus, and that he knew it as well as or better than
Leibniz did. At the end of December Fatio was making these views
known to David Gregory, adding for good measure that he knew the
inverse problem of tangents better than Leibniz. However, Newton
knew everything.25
Trouble with Newton

As Fatio ignited the first flames of the priority dispute over the inven-
tion of calculus, Newton’s intellectual rigours and his failure to obtain
a key position in London both took their toll. In December he had a
brief exchange with Locke over the possibility of obtaining a position
at Charterhouse and at the end of the month he travelled to London for
the funeral of Robert Boyle. He dined with Samuel Pepys (1633–1703)
and John Evelyn (1620–1706) on 9 January but fell into a paranoid and
melancholy mood soon afterwards. A week later, Locke’s friend Robert
Pawling told him that he had seen Newton ‘up two pairs of Stairs in a
pittifull room’ in Suffolk Street, presumably in Fatio’s lodgings. Pawling
clearly implied that the source of Newton’s angst was his inability to
land a senior position in the capital but aside from this, there were a
series of intellectual problems that vexed him at this time. Some of
these involved Locke, who had been left a recipe for Boyle’s ‘red earth’ 79
along with some specimens. Over the next few months Newton and
Locke exchanged letters on the topic, and also on the issue of sup-
pressing Newton’s provocative essay on the Trinitarian corruption of
Scripture.26
Newton had also embarked on the preparation of a second edi-
tion of the Principia. Huygens asked Fatio about this in early Decem-
ber 1691, partly as a way of accommodating the growing number of
errata (most of which Fatio had passed on to him). Fatio in turn gave
an impression of great intimacy with Newton, emphasizing his own
central role in any future edition. Mixing boastful comments with
expressions of humility, he told Huygens that he would want to add
certain elements to the edition — by which he undoubtedly meant his
own theory of gravitation. There was also the issue of the list of errata,
which was expanding as he ploughed his way through it. Nor was this
all, for most ambitiously he proposed a truncated folio edition that
could be read in a fraction of the time that one required to read the
present quarto. He doubted, however, whether his health or financial
situation would allow him to have the leisure required for the work.
Gregory heard from Fatio at the end of the month that such an edition
was being planned, along with a preface by Fatio that gave a physical
explanation of gravity. Gregory took down a detailed description from
Fatio of his theory but also recorded, presumably from the lips of Hal-
ley, that Newton and Halley mocked it.27
In early February 1692 Huygens relayed the less inflammatory con-
tents of Fatio’s letter to Leibniz and immediately afterwards told Fatio

that undertaking a new edition of the Principia should not be carried
out to the detriment of his health. As for underwriting the edition,
there were surely English booksellers who would back an enterprise
of this nature — such people certainly existed in Holland. In any case it
could be done by subscription. As for the exchange, Huygens lamented
that both men believed they could find what was lacking from the oth-
er’s method with a minimum of effort. He added that he hoped Fatio’s
work would appear in the forthcoming book on curves by Newton that
Fatio had mentioned to Constantijn. Finally, he noted — not unreason-
ably — that he thought that in the place in the Principia to which Fatio
had referred, Newton had recognized that Leibniz had arrived at the
same thing at roughly the same time as him (‘a peu pres que luy’).28
Fatio’s request to Huygens in early February 1692 that he locate
80 Fatio’s manuscript on gravity (which like the errata, he assumed he
had left in the Netherlands), indicates that it was only now that he
had resumed serious work on the topic. However, Huygens’ lukewarm

comment about Newton’s chronological priority in formulating the
core elements of the differential calculus provoked Fatio into devel-
oping more extreme remarks regarding the way in which Leibniz had
likely come across the basic theorems of the calculus. The route, Fatio
went on, must have been via the two ‘epistolae’ sent to Leibniz by New-
ton in 1676 — Leibniz’s ‘rules’ appeared soon afterwards, without ren-
dering to Newton the just credit that he deserved. In driving home the
additional point that the Leibnizian calculus was an imperfect copy,
Fatio was even prepared to destroy his own claims to originality, since
(he continued) Newton had everything Leibniz ‘seemed’ to have as
well as everything Fatio had that Leibniz did not. Newton had gone
‘infinitely further than us’, Fatio said, both as regards quadratures and
also on the inverse problem of tangents. He could find the equation
of a curve from the fluxion of a fluxion (Fatio said that he was using
Newton’s terms) and even from the fluxion of a fluxion of a fluxion. In
Newton, Fatio continued, he had found ‘an incomparable guide’, both
more enlightened and more generous than Leibniz. He was not, he
said, upset to have avoided engaging in an exchange of mathematical
propositions as if they were merchandise, for Leibniz always set a very
high price on his commodities.29
As remarkable as the claims about Leibniz’s unacknowledged debt
to Newton was Fatio’s revelation to Huygens that Newton had pro-
duced a number of additional ‘classical scholia’ for the second edition

of the Principia. He apparently believed that Pythagoras, Plato and
others possessed all the demonstrations he had given in the Principia,
and that these were all grounded on the inverse square law. In reply
Huygens noted that despite the fact that the ancients had access to
the Copernican system, Newton had given them far too much cred-
it. In early March 1692 Fatio wrote to say that Newton had gone cold
on the idea of publishing his tract on quadratures. This was, he said,
because of the latter’s unwillingness to engage in the trouble that
would result, though the mathematical world would lose greatly if it
did not appear. If he hadn’t leafed through it he would have liked to
pursue the mathematical ideas he had been working on in Holland,
which — he reminded Huygens — they had often undertaken together.
He didn’t despair of finding everything that Leibniz’s method lacked,
and even more. But he had been chilled (‘glacé’) seeing the work of 81
Newton, and had reproached him for rendering all Fatio’s own work
useless, and for not wanting to leave anything to do by his friends who
came after him.30
Huygens replied at the end of March to say that there was no excuse
for Newton’s mathematical treatise not to appear, and that Fatio him-
self should take care of the publication, implying that it would be much
easier than the task he had set himself with the Principia. He added
that he had offered to explain Fatio’s method to Leibniz (‘because I
wanted him to acknowledge that he didn’t know it’) but was still wait-
ing for his response. Leibniz told Huygens that he was grateful to Fatio
for the offer but because he believed he knew the basis of it, and was
after a more general method, he wouldn’t bother him about it. Huy-
gens lamented at the start of May that both Fatio and Leibniz had dis-
tanced themselves from wanting to learn from each other, whereas he
himself had wanted to learn from both of them.31
Personal business
By March 1692, Fatio’s interests had begun to lurch sideways. He told
the Count of Monros that he was interested in buying a tower in Delft
with various tools that were being used for working on the lenses of
simple microscopes. He may have wanted to involve himself in the
construction of lenses, a subject on which Huygens and his brother
were experts — and if so, Huygens told him, he was wasting his talents.
More likely, Fatio was already interested in teaming up with Huguenot
watchmakers in London, an activity that he would take very seriously

over the following decade. However, in early May academic employ-
ment beckoned once more and Huygens wrote saying that he strong-
ly supported a renewed effort to procure a chair in mathematics for
Fatio in the Athenaeum Illustre (Illustrious School) of Amsterdam,
which the representative of the Court of Brabant in The Hague, Salo-
mon Dierquens, was trying to arrange.32
Fatio now reconsidered his aloofness regarding the editorship of
the Principia. Idleness or ‘other studies’ often distracted him, he told
Huygens, but after these had abated, his desire to see the new edition
to press was redoubled. He had come to terms with many of the most
intractable parts of the book, which led him to believe that if he had
the time to give it the necessary attention he could understand the
book perfectly. Perhaps the old team could be reassembled. Huygens
82 could undertake some of the other sections and it would not be diffi-
cult to complete the entire task in a short space of time. They could
inform each other about the difficult sections they had encountered
and jointly come to terms with the book that was assuredly very excel-
lent but at the same time extremely obscure. Perhaps, when the book
was nearly ready, Fatio could spend some time in Amsterdam.33
Immediately after he had tantalized Huygens with his possible
translation to the Netherlands, Fatio was in contact with his other
patron, perhaps to inquire about some of the passages he had men-
tioned to Huygens. In the middle of May he wrote to Newton asking
him if he could take a room near Trinity College and presumably this
request was granted. His precise movements over the summer of 1692
are unknown, although almost certainly he spent it in London. In Sep-
tember Fatio again enjoyed a brief visit to Cambridge, but on his return
to the metropolis he told Newton that he had contracted a serious
cold, which had worsened to the point where he was probably gravely
ill. In a melodramatic flourish he told Newton that despite immense
physical turmoil his soul was at rest, a fact that he largely attributed
to Newton. None of the conventional remedies had worked, though an
emergency ventral paracentesis might do the trick; if he were to die, he
wished that Newton would take care of his brother.34
Fatio’s problems elicited an immediate reply from Newton, who
showed great concern for his well-being and asked for more details
about his brother. Fatio recovered somewhat towards the end of 1692
but his friend Jean Alphonse Turretini told Newton in January 1693
that Fatio was still suffering from a serious cold, and was considering
returning to Geneva. Newton invited him to Cambridge in order to
escape the dank London air, but Fatio replied that the recent death
of his mother made the trip to Geneva more pressing. However, Dier-
quens’ son visited Newton in early February and informed him that
the offer of the Amsterdam professorship was still live. In a comment
that is difficult to interpret, Newton told Fatio soon afterwards that if
he did get the Dutch position, Newton would be glad to have him so
close to England.35
Perhaps all this could be avoided. In March 1693 Newton revealed
that he had been trying to organize financial support to keep Fatio at
Cambridge, and the latter confirmed that he would prefer to stay in
England rather than return to Switzerland. Hopefully, he said, he could
stay in the Trinity chamber next to Newton’s and in April he remarked:
‘I could wish Sir to live all my life, or the greatest part of it, with you, 83
if it was possible’. Over the spring Fatio’s poor health, particularly his
chronic cold, various schemes to make money through alchemical
knowledge, and his lack of money remained central themes in a flurry
of correspondence between the two men. Newton left for London on
30 May, presumably to spend time with Fatio and chat about the lat-
ter’s medical and alchemical projects. He returned to Cambridge after
a week, but what happened in the next few months remains shrouded
in mystery. By the late summer he was in a full-blown mental crisis,
which was not resolved until much later in the year, although a letter
written by Fatio in August makes it highly unlikely that his problems
were caused by any friction between them. Nevertheless, they were
never on such close terms again, and indeed evidence of any personal
contact between them after this point is sparse.36
On the European mathematical scene, Fatio was now fading from
view, although Newton’s work moved to the centre of attention. From
late 1692, De l’Hôpital probed Huygens for information about what
Newton had to say about the inverse method of tangents. In a letter
to De l’Hôpital in October, Huygens had placed Fatio’s and Leibniz’s
work on the topic in the same bracket as Newton’s, adding, however,
Fatio’s remark that Newton knew more on the subject than Leibniz
and Fatio combined. Soon afterwards the Marquis heard that a new
edition of the Principia was to appear ‘plus à la porté de tout le monde’
and that a treatise by Fatio on gravity was imminent. Indeed, Fatio was
reworking his (apparently rediscovered) treatise on gravity in October
1692, in another abortive attempt to resurrect the idea of a new edi-

tion of the Principia, and he was probably the source for the Marquis’
information.37
In the gap created by Fatio’s apparent departure from the Republic
of Letters, David Gregory now emerged as chief spokesman for New-
ton and as the likely editor for the second edition of the Principia.
Gregory spent time in May and June 1693 with Huygens at Hofwijk,
discussing mathematics, relative and absolute motion, and Newton’s
theory of light. He sent Huygens his own series method of quadratures
in July, and the following month sent Huygens the ‘method’ of New-
ton that was about to appear in Wallis’ imminent publication. By now
Fatio’s method was no longer secret and indeed Huygens had suggest-
ed to De l’Hôpital the previous December that the latter had prob-
ably discovered it independently. In May Huygens had failed to use it
84 in order to solve a problem posed by De l’Hôpital, and he passed on
the rule to the Frenchman in July; in turn, the latter wrote that it was
much more restricted in its use than what he himself had sent Huy-
gens. Having removed its protective cover of secrecy, Huygens tried
to safeguard Fatio’s priority and referred to fruitful work he had done
together with Fatio two years earlier, arguing that the rule was useful
and might work in cases where De l’Hôpital’s did not. It continued to
receive equal billing with Leibniz’s ‘method’ in another letter sent by
Huygens to De l’Hôpital in September 1693.38
Retreat
Fatio’s break from Newton did not result in a closer relationship with
Huygens. Indeed, there is no evidence of communication between
them between May 1692 and November 1693, when Huygens wrote to
Fatio saying that he had not heard from him for some time. Huygens
said that he had feared that Fatio had contracted a new illness, though
he added that he had been occasionally kept up to date with Fatio’s
news by Monros. However, as Fatio probably surmised, it was Newton,
rather than himself, who seems to have been the focus of Huygens’
interest. He prompted Fatio to say more about whether he was to edit
a new edition of the Principia, and whether he’d learned anything from
conversations with this ‘excellent man’. He also asked Fatio to let him
know Newton’s thoughts touching quadratures and the inverse rule of
tangents.39
Fatio received the letter and made notes on it, but with a sense of
déjà vu Constantijn told his brother that he had struggled to deliver

it after trying for some time to ‘disinter’ the Swiss from the great city.
Fatio, he said, was now a tutor to an aristocrat whose name Constan-
tijn had forgotten (actually the Duke of Bedford), and he lamented
that fortune did not do justice to merit. For the first time Christiaan
displayed a high degree of exasperation with Fatio, for he had pre-
sumably been told to expect the letter and Christiaan had supposed
he would fetch it from Constantijn himself. Huygens never wrote to
him again but, surprisingly, Fatio was contacted in the spring of 1694
by Leibniz, who had asked Herr de Beyrie, resident in London for
the House of Brunswick, to probe Fatio for information on Newton’s
opinion regarding various points articulated by Huygens in his Traité.
In his reply, Fatio rehearsed the main points of agreement between
himself and Newton and noted that Huygens had been persuaded by
Fatio’s response to criticisms of his theory of gravity.40 85
Leibniz conveyed the contents of Fatio’s letter to Huygens at the
end of April 1694, adding his own doubts about the Newtonian sys-
tem. Huygens in turn told him that he admired the power of Leibniz’s
calculus, and had just received the new edition of Wallis’ Algebra con-
taining some new material on series by Newton. These had differen-
tial equations that resembled Leibniz’s except for the notation. Fatio’s
mechanical account of gravity was dismissed by Huygens as even more
‘chimerical’ than his theory of light. As for Fatio’s claim that Huygens
had been satisfied by his response to the Dutchman’s criticisms of his
theory, this was readily dismissed. Fatio’s suggestion that the depo-
sition of material on the surface of the Earth would never result in a
considerable bulk on account of its fineness, was neither reasonable
nor probable.41
As his antipathy to the views of Newton and Fatio hardened, Huy-
gens received the dramatic news at the end of May 1694 that Newton
had suffered an ‘atteinte de phrenesie’, which had incapacitated him
for the previous eighteen months. On receiving the news, Leibniz
remarked that he thought the comments by Fatio he had sent on ear-
lier had been ‘reserved’ and ‘enigmatic’, and indeed they were simply
a curt rehash of what he had told Huygens over the previous three
years. Fatio had seemingly cut off contact with his erstwhile patrons
for almost a year, although he did compose a letter explaining his situ-
ation as a tutor to Huygens in September 1694, ostensibly in response
to the one sent almost a year earlier.42
Patronage games
The relationship between Fatio, Newton and Huygens constituted a
highly significant two-way conduit for the flow of ideas between Brit-
ain and the Netherlands. Apart from very occasional releases of infor-
mation in books and correspondence, Newton used disciples such
as Fatio and Gregory to disseminate some of his private findings and
beliefs to continental scholars. Huygens had closer connections with
French, Dutch and German scholars, but used intermediaries such as
Fatio, William Stanley and his own brother to communicate his ideas
and publications. There were other Anglo-Dutch networks at the time,
including the correspondence between Antoni van Leeuwenhoek
(1632–1723) and the Royal Society, and the regular pilgrimages made
by Scottish students to study medicine at Leiden. Nevertheless, the
nexus created by Fatio’s intimate proximity to both Newton and Huy-
86 gens, facilitated by his ability to gain their utmost trust, constitutes a
very rare event in the history of science. Thanks to Fatio, the two dom-
inant intellectual figures of the day could communicate without ever

having to correspond, or with the exception of the summer of 1689,
meet with each other.
Fatio proved unable to sustain the role he had carved out for him-
self as go-between and client of the two super-patrons. By 1693 or even
earlier, his dreams of being a big player in the scholarly firmament had
evaporated. Although Fatio was no longer Newton’s favourite, he was
not completely expunged from Newton’s wider circle of acolytes and
for a number of decades he was linked to key members of Newton’s cir-
cle. Huygens’ death in 1695 prevented any further connection between
them but in any case they had had little or no serious contact for some
years. It is important to view Fatio’s career from the perspective of
Huygens and Newton. For many years he was the spokesman for both
men. He translated Huygens’ work into English for Newton, and com-
municated Newton’s views to Huygens; to both of them he appeared
to be an inordinately talented disciple. Fatio communicated with
each scholar in a language of intimacy, frequently asking if he could
lodge and work in close proximity to both bachelors, and he moulded
himself into a trustworthy collaborator. Newton and Huygens freely
reciprocated this attentiveness, and both were intensely and actively
concerned about Fatio’s well-being.
Proximity to Newton was not for the faint-hearted. The new edition
of the Principia offered Fatio a chance both to transform the master-
piece, and to incorporate into it his theory of gravity. This would have
made the Principia much more of a work of his own, and would have
made it accessible to a much larger audience. There is no unambigu-
ous evidence concerning what Newton thought about this undertak-
ing, since Fatio’s letters are the chief source of our evidence for this
episode. Newton seems briefly to have supported the project at the
end of 1691 but very soon afterwards thought Fatio’s theory of gravity
was risible. In any case, having frequently advertised his role in a forth-
coming edition, it did Fatio’s reputation no favours when the edition
failed to materialize. As for the theory of gravity, it proved impossible
to concoct a plausible hypothesis that could satisfy the twin demands
of both mechanical and attractionist approaches. Regarding math-
ematics, as Fatio correctly surmised, Newton had almost nothing to
learn from him.
Huygens initially nurtured Fatio’s talent, and in the late 1680s the lat- 87
ter enjoyed a reputation on the circuit as an expert in the business of
determining tangents to complex curves. However, Fatio’s most valua-
ble intellectual property involved his rule for giving solutions to some
inverse tangent problems. Their 1691 collaboration on various applica-
tions that stemmed from this reprised the working relationship they
had enjoyed four years earlier. However, Fatio was unable to generate
academic credibility from this partnership and indeed, lost the favour
of his patron. Huygens found him to be an untrustworthy correspond-
ent whose shifting addresses made it impossible to communicate with
him on a sensible basis. Moreover, Huygens never accepted the solidi-
ty of his theory of gravity. Although he continued to value and defend
Fatio’s method for the inverse problem of tangents, he was responsible
for revealing it to De l’Hôpital, thus neutering its value.
Much of Fatio’s downfall should be attributed to the irreconcilable
demands of wanting to serve and please his two masters, while need-
ing distance from them to make his own way. However, arguably the
central relationship in this period was with Leibniz, and it was Fatio’s
misfortune to have tried to strut the mathematical stage at the same
time as Leibniz and his disciples. Fatio’s mathematical capital was
relatively worthless once Leibniz refused to engage in an exchange of
methods, and was absolutely so after he had seen Newton’s ‘De quad-
ratura’. As Fatio’s credit withered, he could at least ensure that Leibniz
was brought down with him. The letters to Huygens in the winter of
1691–1692 show that diminishing Leibniz’s credibility to the infinite-
ly small required elevating Newton’s reputation to the infinitely large.

Fatio’s dual claims about Leibniz’s scurrilous behaviour and Newton’s
transcendent genius must have rung hollow to Huygens, for thanks
to Newton’s decision to withhold much of his work, he was unable to
appreciate just how far Newton had progressed in mathematics. That
said, he had been given an insight into the way things would develop
after his own death. Two decades later, Newton, by now president of
the Royal Society, assailed Leibniz using exactly the same arguments
and tactics adopted by Fatio in his letters to Huygens.
Notes
1 For Fatio’s career, see: C. Domson, Nicolas Fatio de Duillier and the proph-
ets of London (New York 1981); F. Manuel, A portrait of Isaac Newton (Cam-
88
bridge, MA 1968), pp. 191–202; S. Mandelbrote, ‘The heterodox career of
Nicolas Fatio de Duillier’ in: J. Brooke and I. Maclean (eds), Heterodoxy
in early modern science and religion (Oxford 2005), pp. 263–296. I am

extremely grateful to the editors of this book for various comments on
earlier drafts.
2 See Domson, Fatio (note 1), pp. 6–14 and Mandelbrote, ‘Heterodox career’
(note 1), pp. 273–277.
3 For his parents’ views on a suitable career, see Mandelbrote, ‘Heterodox
career’ (note 1), pp. 273–274.
4 See Ch. Huygens, Oeuvres complètes de Christiaan Huygens, 22 vols (The
Hague, 1888–1950), vol. 9, pp. 117–120 (cf. 9: 169 for the inverse problem),
167–171 and 219–221 (footnote 14).
5 See G. Burnet, Bishop Burnet’s Travels Through France, Italy, Germany, and
Switzerland (London 1750), p. 14; Domson, Fatio (note 1), p. 15; Huygens,
Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 167–169 and 190–191. All dates in the
main text are Old Style (O.S.) unless otherwise indicated.
6 Fatio to Boyle, 21 January 1687/1688; M. Hunter et al. (eds), The corre-
spondence of Robert Boyle, 6 vols (London 2001), vol. 6, p. 246; Fatio to
Huygens, 28 April/9 May 1688; Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol.
9, pp. 296–297.
7 Domson, Fatio (note 1), p. 17; R. Gagnebin, ‘De la cause de la pesanteur.
Mémoire de Nicolas Fatio de Duillier. presenté à la Royal Society le 26
février 1690’, Notes and records of the Royal Society 6 (1948), pp. 114–115.
8 See H.M. Snelders, ‘Christian Huygens and Newton’s theory of gravita-
tion’, Notes and records of the Royal Society 43 (1989), pp. 209–222, esp. pp.
210–211 and 215–219; C.D. Andriesse, Huygens: the man behind the prin-
ciple (Cambridge 2005), pp. 352–353. Huygens’ comments on Newton’s
treatment of vortices are at Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 21,
pp. 143, 408–412 and 437; for the report, see ibidem, vol. 9, pp. 272–291.
In the latter Huygens claimed optimistically that by means of his pendu-
lums one might determine longitude to within about 20 miles.
9 See H.W. Turnbull et al. (eds), The correspondence of Isaac Newton, 7 vols
(Cambridge, 1959–1981), vol. 3, p. 45.
10 See Domson, Fatio (note 1), pp. 32–33 and 46; Fatio’s figure was worth
about 25,000 UK pounds in contemporary money.
11 See Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 305 and 312–313. In
the seventeenth century the Old Style (O.S.) Julian calendar used in Eng-
land was ten days behind the Gregorian calendar generally in use in the
Republic of Letters; the dates used in this paper are Gregorian unless oth-
erwise stated.
12 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 321–330 (for Newton’s
proof), 333–334 and 334–355; vol. 22, pp. 743–749 (for Christiaan’s diary);
Andriesse, Huygens (note 8), pp. 355–360 and 366–368; R.S. Westfall, Nev- 89
er at rest. a biography of Isaac Newton (Cambridge 1980), p. 520. See also
L. Jardine, Going Dutch: how England plundered Holland’s glory (London
2008).
13 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 353–354 and 357–359.
Huygens’ father, Constantijn Huygens Sr, had died in March 1687.
14 See Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 86, 361–362, 370–371
and 373–374. For the various addresses in which Fatio lodged during his
stays in London, see ibidem, vol. 9, pp. 171, 190, 360 and 380–381; Turn-
bull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 241 and 243, and
Bloomsbury Book Auctions Sale, 14 February 1991 (lot 390). I am grateful
to Scott Mandelbrote for bringing this letter to my attention. For Fatio’s
forwarding address at Tourton and partners, see ibidem, vol. 3, pp. 45
and 233.
15 Gagnebin, ‘Mémoire’ (note 7), pp. 115–118; Huygens, Oeuvres complètes
(note 4), vol. 9, pp. 381–389. For an analysis of Fatio’s theory, see H. Zehe,
‘Die Gravitationstheorie des Nicolaus Fatio de Duillier’, Archives for the
history of the exact sciences 28 (1983), pp. 1–23.
16 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 379–380, 381–389 and
407–408; Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp.
390–391. See Westfall, Never at rest (note 2), p. 496 and I.B. Cohen, Intro-
duction to Newton’s Principia (Cambridge 1971), pp. 177–179, esp. 179n3 and
184–188.
17 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 388–389, 391–393, 408–
411 and 413.
18 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, pp. 388, 392, 444–445 and 464;
Gagnebin, ‘Mémoire’ (note 7), p. 110; Manuel, Portrait (note 1), pp. 193–195;
Domson, Fatio (note 1), pp. 43–44.
19 Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, p. 79; Hunt-

er, Correspondence of Robert Boyle (note 6), vol. 6, p. 333. For Leibniz’s
response to the Principia, see D. Bertoloni Meli, Equivalence and priori-
ty: Newton versus Leibniz (Cambridge 1992). For Fatio’s rule, see Huygens,
Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 21 and 74–76 (footnotes 5 and 9),
and Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 78n4
and 195n7.
20 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 9, p. 571, 10, pp. 15, 21–22 and
50–51.
21 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 76–77 (for Fatio’s use of
fluxions), 77–78, 86–88, 93–94, 99, 109–112, 127–129 and 161–162. For Huy-
gens’ reference to his joint work with Fatio, see ibidem, vol. 10, pp. 22,
87n9 and 190.
22 See William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, Ms. F253L 1691; Huygens,
Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 145–146, 163 and p. 76 note 10.
90
23 Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), pp. 169–170, 170–171
(with the series at 172–176), 181 and 181–183 (the surviving version of New-
ton’s letter is a draft). For the original treatise, see D.T. Whiteside (ed.),
The mathematical papers of Isaac Newton, 8 vols (Cambridge 1967–1981),

vol. 7, pp. 24–48 and 48–128 (and p. 79 for a reference to Fatio). Compare
with Westfall, Never at rest (note 10), pp. 513–516.
24 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, p. 190, pp. 196–197 (and cf.
197–202 for Leibniz’s method) and pp. 209–210.
25 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 213–215; Gregory mem-
orandum, 28 December 1691; Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton
(note 9), vol. 3, p. 191.
26 Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 184–185 and
185–186; Pawling to Locke, 16 January 1691/2, E.S. de Beer (ed.), The cor-
respondence of John Locke, 8 vols (Oxford 1976–1989), vol. 4, pp. 353–354.
The Trinity College Exit/Redit book indicates that Newton returned to
Cambridge on 21 January.
27 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 209–210 and 213–215;
David Gregory memorandum, 28 December 1691 (O.S.), in Turnbull, Cor-
respondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, p. 191 (and ibidem, vol. 3, p.
70n1, for the memorandum of 27 December recording Fatio’s detailed
description). Cohen points out that Fatio’s improvements, visible in his
own copy, would have made a significant improvement to the ‘look’ of
the Principia; see Cohen, Introduction (note 16), pp. 181–183.
28 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 239, 241–242, 257 and
271. Constantijn mentioned Newton’s treatise in a letter of 16/26 January,
presumably as a result of a visit by Fatio on 16/26 December; see ibidem,
10, pp. 236 and 214n4.
29 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 257–259. Huygens
responded that he did not understand what was meant by a fluxion of a

fluxion; see Gagnebin, ‘Mémoire’ (note 7), p. 159.
30 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 241–242, 257, 268–270
and 271–272; Gagnebin, ‘Mémoire’ (note 7), pp. 158–60.
31 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 276–280, 285 and 287. For
Huygens’ view of Leibniz’s behaviour see ibidem, vol. 10, p. 439.
32 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 276–280, 285 and 287–
288; for the ‘lost’ treatise see ibidem, vol. 10, pp. 257, 271.
33 Ibidem, vol. 22, pp. 158–159; Cohen, Introduction (note 16), pp. 181–183.
34 William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, Ms. F253L 1692; Turnbull,
Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 229–230. Newton’s
(undated) suggestion that Fatio lodge with him is to be found at New Col-
lege Ms. 361.3 fol. 34r. More generally, see Westfall, Never at rest (note 12),
pp. 531–539; Manuel, Portrait (note 1), pp. 192–204.
35 Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 231–233,
241–244 and 245; Bloomsbury Book Auctions Sale, 14 February 1991 (lot 91
390).
36 Turnbull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 262, 263 and
391; William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, Ms. F253L 1693. See also
Westfall, Never at rest (note 11), pp. 533–535.
37 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 327, 346 and 393.
38 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 350, 393, 447n6, 452 and
464–468 (for Fatio’s rule and cf. 491–4), 471–473, 485 and 493–494; Turn-
bull, Correspondence of Isaac Newton (note 9), vol. 3, pp. 272–274 and 275–
278. See also R. Vermij and J. van Maanen, ‘An unpublished autograph by
Christaan Huygens: his letter to David Gregory of 19 January 1694’, Annals
of science 49 (1992), pp. 507–523, esp. 511 and 517–518.
39 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 567–569.
40 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 581–582, 583–584, 598–
599, 599–600, 605–606 and 606–608; and vol. 22, pp. 162–163.
41 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 600–605 and 609–615;
and vol. 22, pp. 162–163.
42 Huygens, Oeuvres complètes (note 4), vol. 10, pp. 615–616, 617–619 and
639–646, esp. 643–644.
How Newtonian Was

Herman Boerhaave?
RINA KNOEFF
Among historians of science and medicine it is well known that the 93

Dutch medical teacher Herman Boerhaave (1668–1738) was one of the
H OW NE WTONI AN WAS HE RM AN B OE RH AAV E ?

first supporters of Newton in the Dutch Republic. They have described
Boerhaave as an ‘experimental Newtonian’, while Gerrit Arie Linde-
boom, Boerhaave’s best-know biographer, stated:
Undoubtedly the appearance of the Principia of Newton in

1687, while Boerhaave was a student, must have had a very
strong influence on his way of thought, and, in fact, after the
death of his teacher, Professor De Volder, Boerhaave was for
many years [at least until 1717 when ’s Gravesande became
professor] the sole defender of the Newtonian principles on
the Continent of Europe.1
If you add that Boerhaave was considered the communis Europae

praeceptor, the teacher of all of Europe, it is but a small step to con-
clude that Boerhaave’s teaching was crucial in the dissemination of
Newton’s work across Europe.
And yet, we hardly find references to Newton in Boerhaave’s works.
In the eleven orations Newton is mentioned only seven times and a
quick search of the eighty-seven works of Boerhaave which can be
consulted online gives only twenty-seven hits.2 Not even the works
of Boerhaave’s most ardent followers mention Newton very often.
Gerard van Swieten (1700–1772), for instance, never named Newton
in his published work. William Cullen (1710–1790), professor of med-
icine in Edinburgh and student of Boerhaave, referred to Newton’s

work only twice. Albrecht von Haller (1708–1777) mentioned New-
ton’s chemistry a few times, but he was of the opinion that although
it would be possible to fill a large volume on the advantages of New-
ton’s mechanical philosophy, it must primarily be considered a ‘pleas-
ing amusement’.3 Boerhaave’s pupil William Burton, in the very first
biography of Boerhaave, praised Newton’s chemistry and character,
but never called Boerhaave a ‘follower’ of Newton. It seems as if either
Boerhaave’s alleged Newtonianism was not recognized by his pupils,
or Boerhaave’s medical teaching was not very Newtonian at all.4
This brings us to the question of how Newtonian Boerhaave really
was. Although Boerhaave owned the first edition of Newton’s Princi-
pia, he hardly ever mentioned the book in his medical teaching. Boer-
haave mainly referred to the Opticks, first published in 1704, and he
94 was particularly impressed with the thirty-one speculative queries at
the end of the book. So, Boerhaave liked Newton the chemist, but he
was far more sceptical of Newton the mechanical philosopher. Even

more, Boerhaave became increasingly more critical of the natural phi-
losophy of Newton’s followers: While he appeared enthusiastic about
the ‘Prince of Philosophers’ in the beginning of his career, in the end
he warned those who, in pursuit of Newton, adopted the general laws
of attraction in order to explain all natural phenomena.
In this article I argue that (1) Boerhaave was less Newtonian than
historians have made us believe; (2) that, if anything, Boerhaave
taught a particular kind of Newtonianism and (3) that paradoxically
Boerhaave’s alleged ‘Newtonianism’ eventually led to a decline of New-
tonian medicine across Europe.
Boerhaave’s change of mind

Crucial to my argument is that Boerhaave, at the beginning of his
academic career, changed his mind about his research program and
that this change had profound consequences on how Boerhaave val-
ued Newton’s work. Boerhaave’s change of mind is best visible in the
sequence of his seven orations on natural philosophical topics deliv-
ered between 1701 and 1731. It is remarkable that Boerhaave delivered
so many orations. At Leiden University it was customary to deliver
an oration upon accepting and resigning a chair, after resigning the
office of rector magnificus (this office is comparable to the office of
vice chancellor of a university) and after the funeral of a distinguished
Fig. 1:
Boerhaave
delivering his 1715
oration ‘On the
Achievement of
Certainty in Physics’.
95

member of the academic community. These were all solemn occa-
sions which normally would not happen very often in the life of one
man. The orations marked important points in Boerhaave’s academic
career and — as is the case with today’s orations at Dutch universities
— they can be understood as research statements, in which the orator
explained how he planned to set out his research.
Leaving aside the funeral oration for Bernard Albinus and the ora-
tion on ‘Cicero’s Interpretation of Epicurus’ Maxim on the Highest
Human Good Is Right’ (1689), Boerhaave’s natural philosophical ora-
tions can be divided into three parts, corresponding to three periods
in his academic career. The orations ‘To Recommend the Study of Hip-
pocrates’ (1701) and ‘On the Usefulness of the Mechanical Method in
Medicine’ (1703) show the enthusiastic confidence of a starting aca-
demic.5 In the second period Boerhaave delivered the ‘Oration on the
Simplicity of Purified Medicine’ (1709), the ‘Discourse on the Achieve-
ment of Certainty in Physics’ (1715) and the ‘Discourse on Chemistry
Purging Itself of Its Own Errors’ (1718). In these orations Boerhaave
appeared to be more reserved about the endless possibilities of natu-

ral philosophy.6 In Boerhaave’s last orations, the ‘Academic Discourse,
Delivered by Herman Boerhaave When He Officially Resigned his Pro-
fessorships in Botany and Chemistry, Having Obtained an Honoura-
ble Discharge, on 28 April 1729’ and the ‘Discourse on Servitude as the
Physician’s Glory’ (1731), we meet an aged scholar stepping back from
his academic duties and contemplating the aims of his pursuits.7
Historians of medicine have always interpreted the early orations of
1701 and 1703 as the summit of Boerhaave’s medicine. In these orations
Boerhaave pleaded for the adoption of a mechanical method in med-
icine. He stated that:
The human body is composed in such a way that its united

parts are able to produce several motions of very different
96 kinds which derive — fully in accordance with the laws of the
mechanics — from the mass, the shape and firmness of the
parts and from the way in which they are linked together. [...]
Therefore man has a body in the sense which the mechani-
cians give to that term and show all the characteristics which
are displayed by this clearly defined category.8
As a result Boerhaave continuously urged his listeners to search for the

‘true’ mechanistic laws and principles upon which medicine should
be built. He strongly believed that these natural laws and principles
would be revealed to man through sense-perception and experiment.
If students would make this their business, so Boerhaave argued,
‘we shall eventually have at our disposal a medical science which is
more reliable, not subject to phantasy, not continuously changing, but
eternal’.9 In fact, Boerhaave was confident that it would be possible
to develop a true medicine in which the laws of nature governing the
body would be fully known.
However, it is crucial to realize that Boerhaave delivered these ora-
tions right at the beginning of his time at Leiden University, and they
are by no means representative for his further career. In the six years
between his 1703 oration on the adoption of the mechanical method
and his 1709 oration on the simplicity of purified medicine Boerhaave
developed a much more cautious attitude towards the possibility of
unveiling true knowledge. He disapprovingly pointed at philosophers
(i.e. Cartesians) who ‘think so highly of their own far-sighted intelli-
gence that they deem it sufficient merely to refer to this intelligence in

physical matters’. Instead, Boerhaave argued that ‘the first principles
of nature are wholly hidden from us’, and that the only thing we can
perceive through experiment and observation are the properties of
hidden first causes.10
In particular the 1715 ‘Oration on the Achievement of Certainty in
Physics’, reflected Boerhaave’s scepticism with respect to the thought
of ever achieving certainty. Ironically, this oration has often been read
as the epitome of Boerhaave’s Newtonian research program. Yet the
oration was first and foremost a critique of universally adopting a Car-
tesian intellectual approach in the study of nature.11 Right at the begin-
ning of his oration Boerhaave stated:
They [the Cartesians] almost seem to think themselves able

by mere meditation to find in their own thoughts the ways 97
and means by which the whole universe holds together and

moves. [...] [I]f we ponder the matter honestly in our mind,
however, it will be seen that this cognitive error is a common
source of corruption; there is none other whose bad effects
constitute a greater hindrance for the progress of medicine.12
Boerhaave mentioned Newton as a counter example — as someone

who kept away from Cartesian speculation. Boerhaave claimed that
not even the celebrated Newton was able to understand the nature
of gravity (or attraction), even though he had shown that gravity is
attached to all visible bodies and always follows the same laws.13 So
rather than reading the 1715 oration as Boerhaave’s promotion of New-
tonianism in the Netherlands, the oration must be considered a call
for ‘moderation in the glorification of the universal force of acknowl-
edged principles’. And in the pursuit of this argument Newton was
only mentioned as a fine example of how this should be done.
In 1718, upon delivering his chemistry oration, the change in Boer-
haave’s mind was complete. While fifteen years earlier he strongly
believed in the project of uncovering universal mechanical laws gov-
erning the human body, Boerhaave now thought it impossible to dis-
close ‘the permanent laws and eternal covenants’ of nature. And he
argued that it is an arrogant presumption to ‘predict with mathemat-
ical certainty and prove each individual change that will result when
bodies are brought together in collision’.14
Boerhaave’s last two orations have a more reflective character as

Boerhaave pondered the fruits of his pursuits. The fight against Carte-
sianism was not so much an issue anymore and, as a result, the coun-
ter example of Newton’s wisdom in studying nature disappeared from
the orations.
‘Newtonian’ medicine?
Even though Boerhaave’s orations primarily referred to Newton as
a counterexample in the fight against Cartesianism, Boerhaave’s
admiration for the English ‘Prince of Philosophers’ was nevertheless
enormous and unwavering. This is remarkable because Boerhaave,
while changing his mind about the nature and working of the body,
also changed his opinions about his fellow natural philosophers. For
instance, in the beginning of his career he was very critical about the
98 iatrochemists Paracelsus (1493–1541) and Jan Baptista Van Helmont
(1579–1644), while towards the end he almost lovingly referred to
‘Father Helmont’. And although Boerhaave was fairly positive about

René Descartes (1596–1650) at the beginning of his career, ten years
later he despised Cartesianism. Yet Boerhaave’s high veneration for
Newton remained as before. Even more, Boerhaave’s change of mind
almost seems to reflect Newton’s changing focus from the mathemati-
cal approach of the Principia towards the experimental method of the
Opticks.
Boerhaave’s changing views on secretion illustrate how he adopted
the different Newtons in his early as well as in his late medicine. At
the time, secretion was a matter of great urgency. It can even be stated
that all Dutch anatomical experiments were to some extend directed
at showing how the fluids proceeded and are produced through the
intricate structure of the tubes and vessels.15 Shortly after becoming a
lector of medicine at Leiden University, Boerhaave presented a theory
of secretion based on (Newtonian) mathematics. It was based on the
Galenic assumption that the body consisted of a netlike organization
of interconnected tubes and vessels and that this structure deter-
mined the nature and motions of the humours. ‘Is it not obvious’, so
Boerhaave asked, ‘that the effects [of the arteries on the blood] have
to be deduced and explained from this structure’.16 In his view, blood
consisted of particles which upon being moved around in the body
broke up into smaller particles according to the shapes and sizes of
the vessels. The large particles of blood fitted the arteries, while the
small particles of lymph fitted the lymphatic vessels. He believed that

not only the bloods, but also the other fluids of the body, such as milk
and semen, were produced in the same way through their movements
in the small tubes of the glands. Although Boerhaave thought that
the solid particles of the fluids were distinguished from one another
through their specific elasticity, gravity, consistency, adhesiveness, the
speed and direction of movement, he refused to explain the working
of the body in terms of individual qualities of each particle. Instead he
emphasized the common nature of fluids as explained by the mech-
anicians — life, health and even the working of remedies depended
upon the mechanical motion of the fluids in the solids.
In short, Boerhaave argued that the solid parts of the body worked
like ‘mechanical instruments, which through their form, firmness, and
through the way in which they are joined, are able to sustain oth-
er parts, or to produce certain movements’.17 Above all, Boerhaave 99
argued that only the mechanicians, and Newton above all, were enti-

tled to claim that they were dealing with proper knowledge about the
solid parts and that physicians should listen only to them — ‘only their
pronouncements should be taken into account, only their principles
should be appealed to, only their methods should be applied’.18
Boerhaave’s early iatromechanics was far from experimental. His
ideal student would hastily proceed from the data perceived through
the senses towards a logical deduction of the ‘nearest causes of each
effect’.19 That is not to say that Boerhaave was necessarily Cartesian in
his approach — although he undoubtedly must have been influenced
by the Cartesian climate in which he worked. Boerhaave considered
the Cartesian method haphazard and its conclusions speculative, hav-
ing no bearing on real things. Instead, Boerhaave referred to Newton
(among others) as an example of how one should rightly apply the
mathematical method to whatever can be observed. And undoubted-
ly the Newton Boerhaave referred to was the ‘mathematical’ Newton
of the Principia.20
In the 1710s, however, shortly after Newton’s publication of the
Opticks, Boerhaave, who owned a copy of the first English edition of
1704 as well as a copy of the 1706 Latin edition, moved away from a
strict mechanism and started praising the merits of chemistry. He no
longer believed it possible to logically deduce knowledge about causes,
and he started emphasizing that the only thing a natural philosopher
could ever know were the effects of unknown causes. He further-
more devoted much more attention to the (what he called) individ-

ual ‘latent peculiar powers’ of particular bodies and he argued that
‘chemistry is best adapted for discovering these [...] powers’, which
also made chemistry ‘the best and fittest means of improving natural
knowledge’.21 In Boerhaave’s words,
chemistry surpasses other disciplines in usefulness [...] in

physics we can be of good cheer with this guide, in medicine
all possible good may be expected from it. It teaches most
faithfully how the deepest secrets may be revealed, intricacies
be disentangled, how hidden forces of bodies may be discov-
ered, imitated, directed, changed, applied and perfected.22
As a result, Boerhaave no longer praised the merits of a ‘mathemati-

100 cal’ Newton, but he referred to Newton the chemist. Upon accepting
the chair of chemistry in 1718 he stated: ‘When he [Newton] explains
the laws, actions and forces of bodies — basing himself upon the care-
ful study of their effects — he appeals to chemistry and to nothing
else’. Boerhaave was particularly pleased with Newton’s promotion of
chemical methods in order to uncover the workings of the powers of
nature. He continued his speech explaining that when Newton
again relates the forces so found to other phenomena that are

still to be explained he calls upon purely chemical methods,
and through his illustrious example he demonstrates that if
chemistry did not exist it would be impossible for even the
most perspicacious of mortals to gain insight into the proper
nature and forces of single bodies.23
Boerhaave was so impressed by the Opticks that he stated: ‘I never saw

a book where [there] were stronger arguments drawn from experi-
ments: it is the best pattern in the world and deserves the highest
honour’.24
Boerhaave’s turn towards chemistry — a turn which he saw paradig-
matically expounded in Newton’s work — had profound consequenc-
es for the way Boerhaave explained secretion in the human body. In
his mechanical system he proposed that the nature and motion of the
humours resulted from the structure of the tubes and vessels. In his
chemical textbook of 1732, however, Boerhaave devoted much more
attention to the powers of the humourous particles themselves. Boer-

haave, in other words, changed from researching the solid parts of
the vasa minora and the vasa majora to investigating the fluids cir-
culating within the solids. After years of experience Boerhaave had
become convinced that the round and neutral particles contained in
the fluids could change into another nature and so harm the body. He
furthermore pointed at the chemical reactions between particles and
the effects of heat in order to explain the circulation of fluids in the
body. With respect to secretion, Boerhaave no longer solely believed
that all the fluids of the body were contained in the blood and were
filtered through the different vessels. Instead, he argued that ‘in each
part of an animal we find humours of a peculiar kind, which always
appear specifically different from another’. It follows that Boerhaave
no longer believed that all the tubes and vessels of the body were
necessarily connected but rather that some fluids were (chemically) 101
changed, mixed and perfected in the enclosed spaces of the vessels

themselves. For instance Boerhaave considered the glands as sepa-
rate and independent membranous follicles, rather than as parts of
an interconnected structure of vessels. This point of view brought him
into conflict with his good friend Frederik Ruysch (1638–1731), whose
famous injection preparations were meant to show just how the tubes
and vessels of the body mechanically interconnect.25
While examining the forces contained in the fluids Boerhaave
not only considered the mechanical forces of attraction, but he also
included non-mechanical entities, such as effluvia, seminal principles,
spiritus rector and pure fire.26 He argued that in particular processes of
secretion and mixing of fluids (which he extensively discussed in the
chapter on menstrua in his Elementa chemiae of 1732) must be exam-
Fig. 2: Boerhaave’s image of a gland represented as a closed-off vessel. Note

that the extremities of the gland look like chemical retorts.
ined chemically. Since mixtures of particles caused reactions between

particles, they showed that individual powers determined the particu-
lar nature of the bodily fluid. So Boerhaave considered chemistry —
and not mechanics — much better suited to investigate the processes
of the body. Boerhaave argued:
I have learnt from experience that different parts, of differ-

ent properties, are mix’d in with all such bodies; whilst these
parts [of bodies] have respectively their own peculiar powers
of attracting, repelling, and changing themselves in many oth-
er ways. We must not, therefore, attribute more to mechani-
cal power, than the author of nature has given to natural
bodies: nor extend this power beyond its proper bounds, in
accounting for chemical operations. This declaration is forc’d
102 from me, by the regard I bear to truth: and may clear me from
the imputations of pretending to explain chemical operations
upon mechanical principles.27
The Boerhaavian decline of Newtonian medicine

Paradoxically, Boerhaave’s turn towards chemistry for medicine —
which was inspired by Newton’s chemistry in the Opticks — unwitting-
ly led to a separation of medicine and Newtonian natural philosophy
in the latter half of the eighteenth century. Historian Theodore Brown
has already pointed at Boerhaave’s promotion of a Newtonian experi-
mental (as in the Opticks) rather than a mathematical (as in the
Principia) approach in medicine as an explanation for the decline of
British Newtonianism in the 1740s.28 Yet I would rather point at Boer-
haave’s focus on the many latent peculiar powers of bodily substances
as explanation for the decline of the Newtonian mechanical philoso-
phy in medicine.
As soon as Boerhaave started doing chemical experiments he dis-
covered a world filled with occult powers peculiar to every combina-
tion of particles.29 Among them he counted the seminal powers or
threads of the warp, the powers of fire, water and earth, the powers of
effluvia, spiritus rector and impetum faciens and many more powers yet
to be discovered. More importantly, Boerhaave believed these powers
to be innate properties of bodily substances. So, where Newton need-
ed the concept of the aether in order to explain how immaterial forc-
es materialized, Boerhaave’s chemistry for medicine was built on the
idea that all the powers of nature were inseparable parts of matter. I
suggest that it was precisely the huge diversity of non-mechanical vital
powers which distinguished Boerhaave’s system from Newton’s and,
moreover, that Boerhaave’s teaching aim of researching these powers
ultimately led to a decline of Newtonianism in medicine.
Boerhaave’s keen interest in the infinitely many latent peculiar
powers of bodies was in contrast with Newton’s insistence on reducing
all the forces of nature to two or three general principles (or forces) of
motion. Although it can be said that Newton’s thirty-first query in the
Opticks (‘Have not the small particles of bodies certain powers, virtues
or forces, by which they act at a distance [...] but also upon one anoth-
er for producing a great part of the phaenomena of nature?’) opened
the door for a materialism of subtle fluids bearing quantities of inher-
ent properties, Newton also argued that
103
To tell us that every species of things is endow’d with an

occult specific quality by which it acts and produces many
effects, is to tell us nothing: but to derive two or three general
principles of motion from phaenomena, and afterwards to
tell us how the properties and actions of all corporeal things
follow from those manifest principles, would be a great step
in philosophy.30
Ultimately Newton’s forces of attraction (gravity, magnetism and elec-

tricity) were mechanical in nature. Newton believed that the main
project of natural philosophy was to ‘learn what are the laws and
properties of attraction’ and that ultimately the natural philosopher
must deduce causes from effects until he comes to the very first cause
(which is not mechanical). In the process, the Newtonian natural phi-
losopher had to eliminate as many causes as possible so that ‘every
true step made in this philosophy brings us not immediately to the
knowledge of the first cause, yet it brings us nearer to it’.31
Boerhaave, on the other hand, argued that it is impossible to ever
come near to knowing the first cause. Unlike Newton’s project, Boer-
haave’s research and teaching was not directed at reducing all the dif-
ferent forces of nature to only few natural laws which would lead him
to a glimpse of the divine. Instead of directing his gaze upwards, Boer-
haave focused on down-to-earth nature and his research was primar-
ily directed at seeing God’s steering hand in the creation. Boerhaave
would not dream of limiting God’s omnipotence to only a few natural

laws. In his eyes this would be the same as to capture the greatness
of God into the limited capacity of the human mind. Unlike Newton,
Boerhaave, through emphasizing the endless number of essentially
unknowable and occult powers, pointed at the fact that man can nev-
er fully know how God steers His creation. In his view, natural philoso-
phers could only perceive traces of God’s providential hand in nature,
in much the same way as we are able to see tracks in the snow, where
the cart itself has disappeared. For instance, Boerhaave discussed ‘the
seeds of things’ as first principles which in his view form the founda-
tion and support of every single body. Yet he argued that
no man can by any power of observation detect the power

that brings the scattered elements together in the structure of
104 the seed; still less can he discern the way in which this power
disposes and orders them. The seminal principle of even the
most simple thing cannot be copied by any imitative meth-

od.32
On many occasions Boerhaave warned his students to restrict them-

selves to the observation of the effects of the many essentially unknown
powers and he pointed at chemical experiments as the best way to do
so. This would give them a clear idea of the working of nature while at
the same time it would prevent them from strolling into the domain
of the divine.
In his lectures Boerhaave told his students over and over again that
the working of nature cannot be reduced to only a few natural laws.
With respect to Newton he praised the experimental approach of the
Opticks, but he was very critical about the universal application of its
results. In line with his insistence on the working of uncountable pow-
ers in nature, Boerhaave appreciated Newton’s premise that nature
is always more complicated than it seems. For instance, Boerhaave
admired Newton for proving that although everyone believed that a
ray of light is perfectly simple, it can be divided into seven colours.
Yet at the same time Boerhaave was exceedingly careful in universal-
ly applying Newtonian mechanical laws. More than once, Boerhaave
mentioned Newtonian natural philosophers as examples of how not to
do natural philosophy. He ridiculed the fact that they tried to explain
everything in terms of mechanical laws of attraction — impossible
in his view, because there were as many distinct kinds of attraction

as there were bodies. Boerhaave was particularly critical of the New-
tonian physiology of the British Newtonian physiologist James Keill
(1673–1719), who in his view attached far too much value to the forc-
es of attraction.33 In short, Boerhaave’s seemingly contradictory view
of Newton’s philosophy indicates that he accepted and was perhaps
inspired by Newtonian methods, while at the same time he was criti-
cal of Newtonian conclusions.
At Leiden University Boerhaave was not alone in his selective
praise of Newton. We find exactly the same attitude in the work of
Boerhaave’s great friend Bernard Siegfried Albinus (1697–1770), well-
known author of an anatomical atlas on the bones and muscles, the
Tabulae sceleti et musculorum corporis humani, first published in 1747.
Like Boerhaave, Albinus believed that life ‘does not only consist in the
(mechanical) circulation of the fluids, (although it is essential), but 105
in the ultimate solid particle that is constantly moving’.34 And just

like Boerhaave, Albinus began by mentioning Newtonian forces, but
he immediately played down their importance through mentioning
them only as part of the many different individual powers moving
the human body. For instance, Albinus mentioned the Newtoninan
force of cohesion in order to explain muscle contraction, but he val-
ued the individual powers of the stimulus, the irritation and the will
much more.35 Moreover, Albinus argued that although he was of the
opinion that most things in the body take place because of mechanical
laws, there was something very subtle in the parts of the body, a force
resembling the Hippocratic enormoun, which did not act mechanical-
ly, but was of crucial importance for the life and motions of the body.36
One might argue that this force resembled the Newtonian suggestion
of the aether, but Albinus, although clearly aware of Newton’s work,
never made this link. On the contrary, he identified this force in a
Boerhaavian manner as surfacing ‘latent peculiar powers of bodies’
like vis vegetans, aura seminalis, vis agitans and vis ciens.
Many of Boerhaave’s students, who often also attended the lec-
tures and dissections of Albinus, adopted Boerhaave’s double view on
Newton. Upon returning home they introduced a kind of Boerhaavi-
an (critical) Newtonianism in many medical centres across Europe.
This Newtonianism was inspired by the experimental approach of the
Opticks, but contrary to Newton it emphasized the working of non-me-
chanical and essentially unknown powers in the body.
Historians of medicine have already noticed that soon after New-

ton’s death in 1727, physicians in England started moving away from
a strict application of Newtonian (mathematical) ideas in medicine.37
This was not only caused by the fact that Newton himself had passed
away and was no longer breathing down their necks, but also by the
fact that most of them had studied with Boerhaave. For instance, the
work of Henry Pemberton (1694–1771) shows an important Boerhaavi-
an nuancing of Newtonian physiology.38 Pemberton not only was a
pupil of Boerhaave in the 1710s, he was also employed by Newton to
superintend the third edition of the Principia in 1726. In his lectures
Pemberton often praised Newton for drawing attention to the active
powers of the smallest parts of bodies and the importance of chem-
istry in discovering them.39 At the same time, however — and it is
almost as if we hear Boerhaave speak — he was cautious in adopting
106 the term ‘attraction’ for all kinds of powers.40 Moreover, Pemberton
thought it impossible to account for all bodily actions in a thorough-
ly mechanistic manner. In his republication of William Cowper’s

Myotomia reformata (1724), which was a highly mathematical essay
on muscle contraction, Pemberton claimed in the introduction — as
Albinus had done in Leiden — that it was impossible to account for
muscle contraction solely in mechanistic terms. Pemberton claimed
that ‘the functioning animal may manifest phenomena for which the
physiologist could currently find no explanation in physical terms’.41
In a truly Boerhaavian manner he argued that the human mind was
simply not up to fully understanding the divine wisdom evident in the
structure and working of the body. In this situation it would be better,
so he argued, to exercise restraint by observing, collecting, and cata-
loguing the phenomena, than to formulate universally valid mechani-
cal laws.
Not only in London, but also elsewhere, we meet a similar Boer-
haavian Newtonianism and we find it in particular in discussions on
the nervous system. As a result of Boerhaave’s insistence on the pow-
ers of the smallest particles of matter increasingly more attention was
paid to whatever was going on in the infinitely small vessels of the
nervous system (which, by the way, was also hinted at by Newton in
the twenty-fourth query of the Opticks). From the 1730s until his death
Boerhaave devoted most of his time lecturing and researching nerv-
ous diseases.42 So important did Boerhaave consider this topic and so
often did he advertise its crucial importance for medicine that many
of his pupils took up his interest in the working of the nervous system.
The above-mentioned Henry Pemberton, for instance, speculated a lot
on the characteristics of the nervous fluids.
An exemplary follower of Boerhaave in this respect was the influen-
tial Scottish medical teacher William Cullen, another student of Boer-
haave. In his lectures on physiology he discussed the nervous system
directly after discussing the nature of the solids and even before treat-
ing the (mechanical) circulation of the blood. Cullen did so because
he considered that ‘the nervous system, as the organ of sense and
motion is connected with so many functions of the animal oecono-
my, that the study of it must be of the utmost importance, and a fun-
damental part of the study of the whole oeconomy’.43 He argued that
the fundamental part of the nervous system consisted of vital solids
and that these vital solids contained many peculiar powers. Moreover,
Cullen, being a disciple of Boerhaave, argued that these so-called vital 107
solids showed up in chemical experiments. Cullen clearly adopted the

Newtonian chemical approach — which emphasized the importance
of chemical methods to disclose the latent peculiar powers of bodies
— so successfully advocated by Boerhaave in Leiden. Yet Cullen hardly
ever mentioned Newton or Newtonian mechanical laws in the bodily
oeconomy. Paradoxically, Newton was there, but at the same time his
name had disappeared from medical teaching.
This also goes for the work of Albrecht von Haller. I suggest that his
well-known and controversial research on irritability and sensibility
was dually inspired by Boerhaave as well as by Newton’s speculations
on the presence of a vibrating motion in the aetherial medium of the
nerves. Hubert Steinke has recently argued that it is problematic to
call Von Haller’s physiology Newtonian. In particular, the working of
irritability (which Von Haller explained as a complex innate prop-
erty of the muscular fibres) could not be subjected to the common
Newtonian laws of movement. This was even more the case since Von
Haller’s ideas on forces and matter differed from Newton’s; ‘whereas
for Newton forces had no material existence and were closely linked
with space, for Von Haller they were properties of a substance’.44 So,
although Von Haller, in his lectures on physiology, mentioned Newton
as the first author who suggested (in the twenty-fourth query of the
Opticks) that the powers of bodies were increased by the nervous juice
which moves from the brain towards the extremities of the nerves,
Von Haller refused to explain the working of the nervous system in
mechanical terms only. Instead, in a Boerhaavian manner, he directed

his investigations at discovering the vital powers moving the body.45
And this, of course, is reminiscent of Boerhaave’s idea of latent pecu-
liar powers inherent in the particles of the body.
These are only few examples of how during the eighteenth cen-
tury, as a result of Boerhaave’s insistence on explaining the work-
ing of ‘latent peculiar powers’, Newtonian mechanical physiology
declined. Although Boerhaave was inspired by Newton’s experimental
approach, his chemistry for medicine was no ‘sublimer mechanics’ as
some early-eighteenth-century Newtonians would have it.46 Since it
was directed at discovering the vital powers of bodies rather than uni-
versal mechanical laws ‘acting at a distance’, Boerhaave’s chemistry
was essentially different from the chemistry advocated by Newton in
the Opticks. Boerhaave’s ideas were adopted by many of his pupils and
108 brought to medical centres across Europe. And it was not only Boer-
haave’s promotion of an experimental approach, as Theodore Brown
has argued, but also and more importantly Boerhaave’s insistence on

the existence of infinitely many powers of nature, which was taken up
by his followers. Ultimately, it can be argued that Boerhaave’s teach-
ing opened the way for the vitalistic physiologies of the second half
of the eighteenth century. It is ironic that Newton’s own suggestions
of non-mechanical powers together with his insistence on chemical
experiment — which were both adopted by Boerhaave, the teacher of
Europe — resulted in the collapse of Newtonian mechanics in medi-
cine.
Notes
1 G.A. Lindeboom, Herman Boerhaave: the man and his work (Leiden 1968),
p. 7. For Boerhaave as experimental Newtonian, see: I.B. Cohen, Franklin
and Newton: an inquiry into speculative Newtonian experimental sciences
and Franklin’s work in electricity as an example thereof (Cambridge, MA
1956), pp. 214ff.; H. Metzger, Newton, Stahl, Boerhaave et la doctrine chimi-
que (Paris 1930). For a more critical attitude towards Boerhaave’s Newto-
nianism, see: R.E. Schofield, Mechanism and materialism: British natural
philosophy in an Age of Reason (Princeton 1970); A.E. Shapiro, Fits, pas-
sion and paroxysms: physics, method, and Newton’s chemistry of coloured
bodies and fits of easy reflection (Cambridge 1993).
2 See the digitalised sources on ECCO (Eighteenth Century Collections
Online).
3 A. von Haller, Dr. Albert Haller’s physiology; being a course of lectures upon
the visceral anatomy and vital oeconomy of human bodies, 2 vols (London
1754), vol. 1, pp. i, lix.
4 For a discussion of Boerhaave’s Newtonianism among historians, see also
R. Knoeff, Herman Boerhaave (1668–1738): Calvinist chemist and physician
(Amsterdam 2002), p. 120.
5 H. Boerhaave, Oratio de commendando studio Hippocratico (1701); H.
Boerhaave, Oratio de usu ratiocinii mechanici in medicina (Leiden 1703).
6 H. Boerhaave, Oratio qua repurgatae medicinae facilis asseritur simplici-
tas (Leiden 1709); H. Boerhaave, Sermo academicus de comparando certo
in physicis (Leiden 1715); H. Boerhaave, Sermo Academicus de chemia suos
errores expurgante (Leiden 1718).
7 H. Boerhaave, Sermo academicus quem habuit quum honesta missione
impetrata botanicam et chemicam professionem publice poneret xxviii
Aprilis 1729 (Leiden 1729), and H. Boerhaave, Sermo Academicus de honore
medici, servitute (Leiden 1731). 109
8 H. Boerhaave, ‘On the usefulness of the mechanical method in medicine’,
translated in E. Kegel-Brinkgreve and A.M. Luyendijk-Elshout (eds), Boer-

haave’s orations (Leiden 1983), pp. 85–120, on 119.
9 Ibidem, p. 112.
10 H. Boerhaave, ‘Discourse on the achievement of certainty in physics’,
translated in Kegel-Brinkgreve and Luyendijk-Elshout (eds), Boerhaave’s
orations (note 8), pp. 145–179, on 155.
11 It must be remarked that in the same oration Boerhaave also praised Des-
cartes’ mathematical writings, wondering ‘that such diverse products
could originate from the same man’. So although the oration is directed
against the Cartesian method, it is not directed against Cartesian math-
ematics.
12 Boerhaave, ‘Achievement of certainty in physics’ (note 10), p. 155.
13 Ibidem, pp. 161–162.
14 H. Boerhaave, ‘Discourse on chemistry purging itself of its own errors’, in
Kegel-Brinkgreve and Luyendijk-Elshout (eds), Boerhaave’s orations (note
8), pp. 180–213, on 162.
15 See, for instance, the experiments of Reinier de Graaf, Jan Swammerdam
and Frederik Ruysch.
16 Boerhaave, ‘Usefulness of the mechanical method’ (note 8), pp. 85–120,
on 99.
17 Ibidem, p. 102, my italics. See also Newton’s second book of the Principia
(prop. 32, theorem 26, 327), where Newton argued that when the particles
of a fluid are similar and have the same given ratio of density to each
other and the same motion, these particles ‘will continue to move among
themselves with like motions and in proportional times’.
18 Boerhaave, ‘Usefulness of the mechanical method’ (note 8), p. 102.
19 Ibidem, p. 117.
20 Ibidem, p. 104. The oration was delivered in 1703, before the publication
of the Opticks. For an example, see Knoeff, Herman Boerhaave (note 4), p.
172.
21 H. Boerhaave, A new method of chemistry, trans. P. Shaw, 2nd ed. (London
1741), vol. 1, p. 173. I use this translation of Boerhaave’s Elementa chemiae
(Leiden, 1732) as I consider it a better translation than the 1735 transla-
tion of Timothy Dallowe.
22 Boerhaave, ‘On chemistry’ (note 14), p. 211.
23 Ibidem, p. 212.
24 H. Boerhaave, A method of studying physick, trans. Mr. Samber (London
1719), p. 98.
25 I have argued this more extensively in R. Knoeff, ‘Chemistry, mechanics
and the making of anatomical knowledge: Boerhaave vs. Ruysch on the
nature of the glands’, Ambix 53 (2006), pp. 201–220.
110
26 For Boerhaave the difference between mechanics and chemistry was that
the former was concerned with the formulation of general laws common
to all bodies, while the latter investigated the latent properties peculiar to
every single body. This meant that although it could in general be argued
that, for instance, effluvia or pure fire could be seen as very small par-
ticles fitting a mechanistic framework, it was nevertheless possible for
Boerhaave to understand them in a chemical way as particles endowed
with non-mechanical, even occult, powers.
27 Boerhaave, A new method (note 21), vol. 1, p. 511.
28 See T.M. Brown, ‘From mechanism to vitalism in eighteenth-century
English physiology’, Journal of the history of biology 7 (1974), pp. 179–216.
29 Note that Boerhaave hardly ever spoke about forces (which have a
mechanical connotation), but always referred to powers (which can be
explained chemically).
30 I. Newton, Opticks, or a treatise of the reflections, refractions, inflections &
colours of light (New York 1979; based on Newton’s fourth edition, 1730),
pp. 401–402.
31 Ibidem, p. 369. Note that Newton was always very cautious about hypoth-
eses and he often despised the Cartesians for posing too many hypoth-
eses. Newton never considered his ‘causes’ hypothetical.
32 Boerhaave, ‘Achievement of certainly in physics’ (note 12), p. 165.
33 For Keill see A. Guerrini, ‘James Keill, George Cheyne, and Newtonian
physiology, 1690–1740’, Journal of the history of biology 18 (1985), pp. 247–
266, and A. Guerrini, ‘The Tory Newtonians: Gregory, Pitcairne, and their
circle’, Journal of British studies 25 (1986), pp. 288–311.
34 H. Punt, Bernard Siegfried Albinus (1697–1770) on ‘human nature’: anatomi-
cal and physiological ideas in eighteenth-century Leiden (Leiden 1983), p.
141.
35 Ibidem, p. 139.
36 The term enourmoun cannot be found in the Corpus Hippocraticum, but
is attributed to Hippocrates by Galen. See J.K. van der Korst, Een dok-
ter van formaat. Gerard van Swieten, lijfarts van keizerin Maria Theresia
(Amsterdam 2003), pp. 34–35.
37 See the before mentioned articles by Brown and Guerrini (notes 28 and
33).
38 Pemberton’s critical Newtonianism has also been discussed by Theodore
Brown in his article ‘From mechanism to vitalism’ (note 28).
39 H. Pemberton, Course on chemistry (London 1731), pp. 13–14.
40 H. Pemberton, A view of Sir Isaac Newton’s philosophy (London 1728), p.
144.
41 Pemberton in Brown, ‘From mechanism to vitalism’ (note 28), p. 189.
42 Boerhaave’s lectures on the nervous diseases have been translated and
edited by B.P.M. Schulte in his Herman Boerhaave praelectiones de morbis
nervorum 1730–1735 (Leiden 1959). 111
43 W. Cullen, Institutions of medicines, part I, physiology. For the use of stu-
dents in the University of Edinburgh (Edinburgh 1777), p. 24. Boerhaave,

as far as I know, never used the word ‘oeconomy’ in relation to human
physiology.
44 H. Steinke, Irritating experiments: Haller’s concept and the European con-
troversy on irritability and sensibility, 1750–90 (Amsterdam 2005), p. 115.
For Haller as a Newtonian, see S. A. Roe, ‘Anatomia animata: the Newto-
nian physiology of Albrecht von Haller’ in: E. Mendelsohn (ed.), Transfor-
mation and tradition in the sciences: essays in honor of I. Bernard Cohen
(Cambridge, 1984), pp. 273–300.
45 A. von Haller, Dr. Albert Haller’s physiology (London 1754), p. 316.
46 See, for instance, the work of Peter Shaw. In the footnotes to his trans-
lation of Boerhaave’s chemical textbook, he tried his hardest to change
Boerhaave’s chemistry into a branch of Newtonian mechanics. Chemis-
try, he argued, is ‘sublimer mechanics’, for mechanics, being the doctrine
of motion, is a key to understanding chemical effects. Shaw in Boerhaave,
A new method (note 21) vol. 1, p. 155.
The Man Who Erased Himself

Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande and
the Enlightenment
AD MAAS
It is a well-known fact that the Leiden professor Willem Jacob ’s Grave- 113
sande was one of the most influential advocates of Isaac Newton. It
T H E MAN W H O E RAS E D H I MS E L F
is equally well-known that he was the author of the first ‘Newtonian’
physics handbook and attracted large numbers of students from all
over Europe to Leiden University with his courses on experimental
physics, in which he demonstrated the laws of nature with his self-
designed instruments. Several of his students followed in his footsteps,
spreading Newton’s word at the universities of the Dutch Republic
and abroad.1 As recent research has revealed, ’s Gravesande was also
actively involved in the diffusion of the Principia in the Netherlands.2
In addition, ’s Gravesande’s lesser known metaphysical and philosoph-
ical views have also been the subject of historical investigation: see
in particular the clear expositions by Kees de Pater and Paul Schuur-
man.3
’s Gravesande was indeed a leading figure, not only as a champion
of Newton, but also in a broader sense as a pioneer of the so-called
mainstream, or ‘moderate’ Enlightenment, which sought to harmo-
nize reason, science and rationality with religion. Jonathan Israel
describes him as ‘the Leiden professor who did more than anyone
else to engineer the triumph of English philosophy and science in the
Dutch mainstream Enlightenment in the 1720s’.4 However, his influ-
ence went far beyond the Dutch Republic. ’s Gravesande was one of
the main initiators of Anglomania — the absorbing hunger for English
ideas and achievements in Europe in the 1730s and 1740s.5
In the literature, ’s Gravesande’s Newtonianism is mainly (and
Fig. 1:
Willem Jacob
’s Gravesande.
(Etching by J.
Houbraken, after
a drawing by J.
Wandelaar, 1725–1750)
114
implicitly) described as the outcome of his personal considerations,

namely as the fruits of his own convictions, consciousness, inner
development and reasoning. In addition to this ‘conceptual’ approach,
I would like to consider ’s Gravesande in this article as a man of his time
and culture. I will regard him and his ideas more particularly against
the background of the political situation, rivalling scientific factions,
religious sensitivities and the developments in the Republic of Letters
in general and Leiden University in particular. This article will focus
on ’s Gravesande as a natural philosopher and will not address his less
influential philosophical work.
To what extent, then, can we relate the development of ’s Grave-
sande’s convictions, preferences and way of reasoning to the cultur-
al, political and academic circles in which he lived and functioned?
In answering this question, I will look at his family background and
youth, his experiences in the world of higher politics, his role in the
Republic of Letters and his performance as a professor at Leiden Uni-

versity. In my conclusion, I will further elaborate on what appears to
be ’s Gravesande’s leitmotiv: the pursuit of ‘unprejudiced’, ‘true’ knowl-
edge. But first I will briefly set out what ’s Gravesande’s Newtonianism
actually involved: there do appear to be reasons to look beyond the
workings of his inner self.
The invisible philosopher6

In his works, ’s Gravesande expressed the conviction that the natural
philosopher’s task was to investigate the natural laws with which God
had created an orderly world for mankind to live in. Empirical stud-
ies and analogical and mathematical reasoning were the sources (and
the only sources) to obtain ‘true’ knowledge of the natural world. All
other means of arriving at higher truths are to be rejected, in particu-
lar deductive reasoning not sustained by observation as advocated by 115
Descartes. Newton’s physics proved to be useful for ’s Gravesande in
his attempt to harmonize modern natural philosophical ideas with his
religious views.
’s Gravesande elaborated his epistemology in his Oratio de eviden-
tia (1724). In his view, God had given man the use of his five senses to
observe the outside world and had granted him the capacity for rea-
soning by analogy to detect the regular patterns in these observations.
In this way, we are able to derive useful information from the outside
world. We can, for instance, watch the sun set and the sun rise and
establish, by analogical reasoning, that each sunset is always followed
by a sunrise. Thanks to a third tool, testimony by others, we are also
able to obtain knowledge about events that happened in other places
and in the past. We know, for instance from the reports of others, that
Leiden University was founded in 1575.
It would be absurd to assume that an ‘infinitely good’ God created
an entire world for humans to live in, without allowing them the skills
to make optimal use of that world. Indeed, our senses, our ability to
draw analogies and the testimonies of others enable us, when used
with discrimination, to gather information from the outside world
that is ‘obviously’ true. Knowledge thus obtained is ‘morally evident’.
’s Gravesande even regarded knowledge based on moral evidence no
less irrefutable than the unshakable truths that can be obtained by
‘mathematical evidence’, which is the other source of ‘certain’ knowl-
edge.
By giving a prominent role to moral evidence in his epistemology,

’s Gravesande argued that the outside world, God’s creation, was a
main source of irrefutable knowledge. At the same time, he limited the
role of the philosopher’s own imagination, or hypotheses as he would
call it. ’s Gravesande pleaded for a type of modest philosopher, which
is evident also from his interpretation of Newton’s body of ideas.
As several contributions in this volume show, there is no such thing
as a universal, monolithic Newtonianism. When we speak of ’s Grave-
sande’s Newtonianism, we speak of his personal interpretation of
Newton’s ideas. A brief glance at ’s Gravesande’s famous handbook
Physices elementa mathematica (first edition 1720–1721), for instance,
immediately makes clear that the book was not Newtonian in the
sense that it simply explained Newton’s theory: ’s Gravesande’s book
was much wider in scope; it was really a handbook on mathematical
116 physics, and it was ‘Newtonian’ because it pursued the Newtonian
method of looking for mathematical regularities in nature on the one
hand, and sought to establish the primacy of experiment and obser-

vation on the other. Accordingly, it contained systematic descriptions
of experiments to support the theoretical expositions, and only brief
treatments (or the omission) of topics that could not be treated math-
ematically (electricity, magnetism, meteorology).
Some aspects of ’s Gravesande’s interpretation of Newton are
worth noting. Firstly, he consistently rejected ‘feigning hypotheses’
(i.e. not based on mathematical reasoning or empirical data)7 even
more than Newton himself — for example, he disregarded Newton’s
particle interpretation of light, which he must have considered too
hypothetical.8 Secondly, his preoccupation with finding true, unprej-
udiced knowledge excluded arguments simply based on the authority
of a revered scholarly person, even if this was no less a figure than
Isaac Newton. His point of view in the vis viva question, for instance, is
striking. In the debate on whether the ‘force’ of an accelerated object
increased proportionally with the velocity (quantitas motus) or with
the square of the velocity (vis viva) ’s Gravesande — convinced by his
own experiments — publicly sided with Leibniz cum suis, thereby defy-
ing his idol and mentor Isaac Newton. Figure 2 shows the fall appara-
tus ’s Gravesande used. It contained a layer of clay in a tray, in which
’s Gravesande dropped brass balls of varying weights; he found that
the same product of height and weight caused identical impressions
in the clay.
Fig. 2:
’s Gravesande’s fall
apparatus. (Museum
Boerhaave, V09630)
117
These two examples show us that in his search for truth, ’s Grave-
sande tried as much as possible to limit human interference — he did
not accept assumptions simply based on authority, or any hypothe-
ses — as they only served to corrupt the study of nature. The only safe
ways to arrive at higher truths were to observe nature and to employ
both mathematical rigour and an innate, rather commonsensical use
of analogical reasoning. The results of natural philosophy should not
bear the marks of individual imagination, prejudice or personality.
The natural philosopher ought to be invisible in his work, so to speak.
’s Gravesande’s objective, therefore, was — in my words — to ‘deper-
sonalize’ the study of nature. It even landed him in conflict with a few
fanatical British Newtonians (like Samuel Clarke) and orthodox Cal-
vinist ministers, who felt his epistemology could be interpreted as a
limitation of the free will. Eventually, ’s Gravesande was even accused
of being a ‘Spinozist’.9
There were limits to ’s Gravesande’s ‘depersonalization’. His person-
al praise of Newton was both consistent and sincere. Yet above all he
remained an independent spirit who apparently managed to main-

tain a strict divide between epistemological views on the one hand
and metaphysical and religious views on the other. If we wish to trace
the roots of ’s Gravesande’s Newtonianism, we will not necessarily find
them in his religious and metaphysical convictions. We will also have
to look for them elsewhere.10
Youth
Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande was born in ’s-Hertogenbosch (Bois-le-
Duc), a town in the Catholic south of the Dutch Republic, in 1688. Yet
the ’s Gravesandes — or Storm van ’s Gravesande as the full family
name was — were not Catholics. The family belonged to the Protestant
administrative upper echelon of ’s-Hertogenbosch (the Catholic areas
in the south, the so-called ‘Generality Lands’, were treated like occu-
118 pied territories and were governed by the States-General). The roots
of the Storm van ’s Gravesande family can be traced to the province of
Holland, more specifically to the city of Delft.11 Willem Jacob’s ances-

tors were already Calvinists when the Beeldenstorm (the Iconoclas-
tic Fury) raged over the Low Countries in 1566. Some of them were
convicted and banned from Delft because they had taken part in the
uprising. Following the successful expulsion of the Catholics in 1572,
however, members of the ’s Gravesande family succeeded in obtaining
vacant positions in Delft’s city government. Half a century later, the
’s Gravesandes in Delft apparently had lost some of their influence. It
was Willem Jacob’s grandfather Laurens who moved to ’s-Hertogen-
bosch, as by this time he and his relatives were no longer able to secure
places in Delft’s city administration.12
The move took place after the conquest of ’s-Hertogenbosch by
stadtholder Frederik Hendrik in 1629. According to ’s Gravesande’s
biographer (and successor) Jean Nicolas Sébastien Allamand (1713–
1787), it was the stadtholder who offered Laurens ’s Gravesande a num-
ber of posts in the administration.13 In ’s-Hertogenbosch, the pious
Calvinist ’s Gravesandes had to maintain themselves as part of a small
Protestant minority and preserve their Protestant identity in a ‘hos-
tile’, Catholic area. From his earliest youth, Willem Jacob must have
been aware of religious dissent.
As a patrician’s son, Willem Jacob was educated by a private teach-
er called Isaac Tourton. According to Allamand (whose biographical
description does not appear reliable in every respect), Tourton’s les-
sons encouraged ’s Gravesande’s talents and interest in mathematics.

Together with two of his brothers, however, Willem Jacob was destined
for the study of law at Leiden University. Perhaps his later, character-
istic, preoccupation with obtaining ‘unprejudiced’ judgements was
fostered by his legal education. He studied law from 1704 to 1707, dur-
ing which period he is also said to have written his first mathematical
treatise: Essai de perspective. This, however, was not published until 1711.
He did not receive a degree in the faculty of philosophy. There is
also no evidence that he ever attended the courses and demonstra-
tions of the philosophy professors Burchardus de Volder (1643–1709)
and Wolferd Senguerd (1646–1724); in any case he never appears to
have defended a philosophical or mathematical disputation under
their direction.14 ’s Gravesande did not seem to considering an aca-
demic career in this field by this time. After finishing his thesis on
suicide — he maintained that it was a reprehensible deed15 — he set 119
up practice as a barrister in The Hague. His contacts with the Swiss
mathematician Nicolaus (I) Bernoulli (1687–1759) and the physician
and mathematician Bernard Nieuwentijt (1654–1718) show that he was
still engaged in mathematics at the time.16
Higher politics
The Dutch Republic was torn by an ongoing battle between the
stadtholders and their followers, the Orangists, and the Republi-
can States Party which — as the champions of ‘Ware Vrijheid’ (True
Freedom) — sought to limit the stadtholder’s powers, or even elimi-
nate the stadtholderate altogether. The latter faction dominated in
the first stadtholderless period, which lasted from 1650 to 1672. After
the ‘Rampjaar’ (Disaster Year) of 1672, however, the Orangists gained
the upper hand when the powerful William III (1650–1702) became
stadtholder (assuming also the crowns of England, Scotland and Ire-
land after the Glorious Revolution of 1688–1689). William III died in
1702, two year before ’s Gravesande enrolled in Leiden. The Orangists
did not manage to have a new stadtholder elected and ’s Gravesande
would spend the rest of his life in a stadtholderless Dutch Republic
(the Frisian stadtholder did not have much power).
Immediately after the death of William III, the Republic had to cope
with the War of the Spanish Succession, which broke out in 1702 and
ended with the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713. This war proved to be finan-
cially disastrous for the Dutch Republic; in fact, it was the last pan-
European conflict in which the Dutch Republic played an important,

leading role and marked the end of the Republic as a major player on
the European stage.17
In the aftermath of this conflict two camps were formed with oppos-
ing ideas on the Republic’s foreign policy. The first sought to increase
the military strength of the Republic, combined with a pro-British
stance, in order to check French expansionism. The other camp was
more concerned with Dutch trade opportunities than with French
threats and tried not to involve the Republic in Britain’s internation-
al intrigues against France and Bourbon Spain, in particular, which
would only harm Dutch commercial interests. Some feared that Eng-
land was heading for a new war with France. These two camps — the
pro-British and the pro-trade parties — incidentally did not necessar-
ily overlap with the traditional Orangist and Republican factions in
120 Dutch society.18
Someone who definitely belonged to the pro-British party was
Arent Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde (1669–1721). This powerful Dutch

nobleman, a great favourite of William III (he had been chosen to join
William in his victorious voyage to Britain during the Glorious Revolu-
tion) was married to Anna Margaretha Bentinck (1683–1763), a daugh-
ter of William III’s bosom friend Hans Willem Bentinck (c. 1649–1709),
created 1st Earl of Portland in 1689. Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde’s
brother-in-law was one of the powerful ‘Whig lords’ under George I
(1660–1727). Van Duyvenvoorde regarded the alliance with England
not only in political but also in religious terms; it was his strong con-
viction that the two Protestant states had to join forces to resist the
Catholic threat from France.
Everything in Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde’s personality negat-
ed the stereotypical image of the ‘enlightened’, well-balanced man
of reason. The Scottish diplomat J. Drummond called this staunch
Protestant nobleman an ‘unmanageable, turbulent, interested spirit’,
who inspired fear in many. Shrewdly combining intrigue, corruption
and power politics, he tried to consolidate his position in the world
of Dutch higher politics. His opponents called him ‘proud’, ‘hot-tem-
pered’, and ‘money-mad’.19
In 1715 the States-General sent Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde to
England as a special envoy to congratulate George I on his accession
to the throne. His second mission was to try and muster British sup-
port for the tough negotiations with Emperor Charles VI (1685–1740)
regarding the ‘Dutch barrier’ in the Southern Netherlands. This barri-

er involved a line of fortified towns in Belgium to protect the Repub-
lic against a possible French invasion. With George’s accession, the
Whigs ousted the Tories in the British government, making Wassenaer
van Duyvenvoorde with his Whig connections the obvious person to
assume the ambassadorship (even though his enemies in the ridder-
schap of Holland, one of the seven colleges of nobles in the Republic,
strongly opposed his appointment).20
Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde decided to take the young lawyer
Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande with him as his ‘first secretary’. It is not
clear why he asked ’s Gravesande. The two families were not related
by marriage, nor have I found evidence of any other contacts existing
between the two men. Even so, the journey would prove to be a turn-
ing point in the life of Willem Jacob.
Besides the administrative work involved in the job of secretary, 121
’s Gravesande in London took part in the ongoing round of visits, audi-
ences, official dinners and other ceremonies regulated by complex pro-
tocols, which made up a great part of the delegation’s obligations.21 In
addition, he sometimes also acted as a private teacher to Duyvenvoor-
de’s son Brilanus. He taught the boy mathematics, a discipline beyond
the competence of the ‘second secretary’ of van Duyvenvoorde’s del-
egation, Justus van Effen (1684–1735), who was the boy’s main tutor.
Van Effen was no stranger to ’s Gravesande, because both men were
on the editorial staff of the Journal littéraire (see next section). Duyven-
voorde apparently wanted only the best teachers for his son: a third
tutor hired by him was no less a figure than John Theophilus Desaguli-
ers (1683–1744), fellow of the Royal Society, and performer of spectac-
ular demonstrations. Desaguliers became friends with ’s Gravesande
and later translated his physics handbook into English.22
A few months after arriving in England, ’s Gravesande was elected
as a member of the Royal Society. It was not — as one might expect
— Desaguliers who introduced him, but an old university friend, Wil-
liam Burnet (1687–1729). ’s Gravesande met president Isaac Newton
in person at the Royal Society. Unfortunately, no account exists of
this meeting. In view of his attempts to ‘depersonalize’ the study of
nature, ’s Gravesande will have regarded with special interest the way
in which the Royal Society used the experimental method to avoid an
‘ad hominem’ type of debate and to reduce human interference in nat-
ural philosophy.23
William Burnet is an interesting member of ’s Gravesande’s net-

work. He was the son of Bishop Gilbert Burnet (1643–1715), a Whig who
had been among the first English subjects to transfer his allegiance to
William and Mary. As one of the closest confidants and trusted coun-
sellors of William, Gilbert Burnet became the head of his propaganda
machine, which coordinated the efforts to win the hearts and minds
of the British people for the new royal couple in the aftermath of the
Glorious Revolution. It is almost certain that Gilbert must have known
Duyvenvoorde from these days. Gilbert Burnet, incidentally, was also
acquainted with Newton, who likewise opposed the policy of James II
(1633–1701), the king who was ousted during the Glorious Revolution.
Newton’s good standing with the new regime turned out well for his
career and his public status.24
William Burnet was born in the Dutch Republic, where his father
122 lived as an expatriate between 1686 and 1688.25 He was named after
William III, who was his godfather. In 1707 William studied at Leiden
University, where he became acquainted with ’s Gravesande.26 As a

member of the Royal Society, William Burnet was able to provide him
with an introduction.
Allamand claimed that his personal encounter with Newton had
far-reaching consequences for ’s Gravesande’s ideas about natural phi-
losophy. However, he certainly knew of Newton’s work before.27 In May
1714 — a year before he went to England — he had already written to
the English scholar. In this case, too, it was Burnet who paved the way.
Burnet already acted as an intermediary between Newton and the lat-
ter’s criticaster Johann Bernoulli (1667–1748) (at the time professor in
Groningen). Bernoulli had published his criticism of the Principia in
the Acta eruditorum in February and March 1713, but the work in ques-
tion was not yet available in England. Burnet asked ’s Gravesande to
send a copy of the Acta eruditorum to Newton, which he did, togeth-
er with a letter, in which he humbly offered his services ‘dans toutes
les occasions que je pourai vous estre de quelque utilité dans ce pais’.28
Apparently it was a ploy of Burnet and ’s Gravesande, to give the lat-
ter an excuse to get in touch with Newton. ’s Gravesande may have
become interested in English philosophers through his contacts with
the Burnets, or possibly through other British subjects connected to
the court in The Hague (or perhaps — as will be mentioned later — by
early Dutch ‘Newtonians’ like Bernard Nieuwentijt).
In spite of his not altogether polished diplomatic bearing, Wasse-
naer van Duyvenvoorde’s mission was a success. The so-called Barrier

Treaty was signed with the Austrian emperor with English support,
while a new alliance was at the same time forged between England
and the Dutch Republic. By May 1716 the mission had been successful-
ly completed.
Had ’s Gravesande not been a personal favourite of or political-
ly useful to Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde, it would have been high-
ly improbable that the latter would have taken efforts to secure him
a professorship in Leiden. After all, he was a man who thought in
terms of clientelism, power and interests. According to Allamand, it
had been Newton himself who had persuaded Duyvenvoorde to rec-
ommend the curators in Leiden to appoint ’s Gravesande to a chair.
Duyvenvoorde was on good terms with his (distant) relative Willem,
Baron Wassenaer, Lord Starrenberg and Ruyven (1649–1723), who was
chairman of the board of curators of Leiden University. In 1717 the lat- 123
ter seems to have secured the chair in ‘astronomy and mathematics’
for ’s Gravesande, a chair that had been vacant for some years (in 1734
‘philosophy’ was added to his professorial duties).
’s Gravesande’s appointment has been taken too much for granted
in the research carried out on this topic so far. Whereas Leiden Uni-
versity had a reputation for appointing professors with considerable
professional experience,29 ’s Gravesande had no appreciable scientific
reputation at the time he was offered a chair. His only published feat
was his Essai de perspective, which had met with the approval of the
scholarly community. He did not have much experience as a teacher,
nor did he have a degree in philosophy in his pocket (even though this
was not an important requirement at the time).
’s Gravesande’s appointment, therefore, was a sample of unadulter-
ated nepotism. The parallels with his predecessor Jacques Bernard
(1658–1718) are worth mentioning. This French theologian certainly
did not have a reputation as a natural philosopher before (or, for that
matter, after) his appointment, even though in 1705 he succeeded no
less a person than De Volder, who had put experimental physics firmly
on the map at Leiden University (see below). It is very likely that De
Volder’s instruments for experimental demonstrations, which had cost
the university curators a considerable sum of money, were completely
ignored by Bernard. Interestingly, he seems to have been favoured by
the curators because he championed British philosophers.30
I set out in the first section why, from the conceptual point of view,
Newton’s ideas suited ’s Gravesande very well. However, embracing the

British philosopher may also have been instrumental in securing the
patronage of powerful pro-British Dutchmen and English Whigs and
a possible chair at one of the most prestigious universities of Europe.
We will probably never know the true reason behind ’s Gravesande’s
appointment. We may, however, conclude that the Anglo-Dutch con-
nection, which offered ’s Gravesande a stage to unfold his (Newtonian)
ideas, indirectly contributed to the mainstream Enlightenment and
the Anglomania that swept over Europe in the 1730s and 1740s.
Republic of Letters
After having settled in The Hague as a lawyer — in the years before
his trip to England — ’s Gravesande moved in the literary and intel-
lectual circles of booksellers, publishers and writers of this city. Quite
124 a few of these men of letters were French (Huguenot) refugees, oth-
ers were British, and occasionally linked to the court like the Burnets.
’s Gravesande married the daughter of a French refugee family, Anne

Sacrelaire. In 1713 he was involved in founding the Journal littéraire de
La Haye and joined its editorial staff. At the time similar learned peri-
odicals were published in the Republic, mostly run by French Hugue-
not refugees, aimed at informing the Republic of Letters, in French,
about what was going on in the scholarly world. A large section of the
Journal littéraire was devoted to book reviews. In addition, there were
sections containing news about books and the Republic of Learning.
Also, the journal offered room for discussion among readers.
An interesting feature of the Journal littéraire — and a novelty as
well — was that the editors acted as a collective. They spoke with one
voice, which meant that contributions were never signed with the
name of an individual editor or the chief editor; all these remained
anonymous. Book reviews written by one of the editors were com-
mented on during the weekly meetings. In this way, the editorial staff
hoped (besides benefiting from the specific expertise of the individual
editors) to eliminate any personal preoccupations on the part of the
reviewer and present an unbiased review. By not signing their con-
tributions, the editors were able to avoid the risk of being considered
as the spokesman of a certain group. It was imperative to shun every
appearance of partisanship.
The journal started with a board of six editors. Four of them — Pros-
per Marchand (1678–1756), Henry Alexandre, Albert Henri de Sallen-
gre (1694–1723) and Thémiseul de Saint-Hyacinthe (1684–1746) — had

French roots (although Sallengre was born in The Hague). A few of
them had quite radical opinions. The other two were Dutch — ’s Grave-
sande and Justus van Effen. The publisher, Thomas Johnson (1677–
1735), was Scottish.31
For the Journal littéraire ’s Gravesande wrote reviews on physical
and mathematical works and probably on physico-theological publi-
cations, as well.32 His (naturally anonymous) review of Nicolas Hart-
soeker’s Suite des conjectures physiques et des eclaircissemens sur les
conjectures physiques (1712) led to a debate with the author about New-
ton’s theory of planetary motion. But ’s Gravesande also published
articles relating to his own studies, as for instance his exposition
on improvements of the air-pump and his contribution to the hotly
debated vis viva question. Finally, he also published on ethical issues
(such as liberty and falsehood) in the Journal littéraire.33 125
It looks as if his Leiden professorship in 1717 marked the end of
’s Gravesande’s editorship of the Journal littéraire. Nevertheless, he
always remained loyal to the magazine’s principles. In 1729 ’s Grave-
sande, together with his friend Prosper Marchand, attempted to revive
the Journal littéraire. Again they opted for a collective editorship —
even though in the past this lofty formula for unprejudiced journalism
had sometimes proved a little over-idealistic.
The Journal littéraire was founded at a time of growing unease in the
Republic about French influence, or the ‘Frenchification’ of Dutch cul-
ture. Critics, for instance, discerned a culture of imitation in the field
of literature, which was dominated by French classicism. Architecture,
painting, fashion in clothes, even in wigs, gardening, interior decorat-
ing, and the style of conversation of the upper classes were also copied
from the French. Many opponents to the trend of Frenchification,
which was regarded as a threat to native Dutch culture, believed that
French immigrants, in particular, were responsible for the dreaded
invasion.
These adversaries tried to counter the taste for French customs by
stressing the roots of national cultural identity, which they believed
was especially to be found in Dutch literature adhering to classical
principles.34 In addition, English culture was enlisted to stop French-
ification. Van Effen for instance, who strongly denied the superiority
of French culture, asserted in 1711 that the ‘new’ English philosophers
who were emerging on the European scene, in particular Newton and
John Locke (1632–1704), might counterbalance French cultural domi-

nation.35 ’s Gravesande, closely associated with Van Effen as a fellow
editor of the Journal littéraire and fellow secretary of Duyvenvoorde,
never publicly expressed an opinion about Frenchification or the
‘strategic’ values of the English culture. However, by propagating the
English philosopher Newton, he was in actual fact second to none in
strengthening the desired English cultural ‘counterbalance’.36 As was
the case in the world of higher politics, Dutch cultural and scholarly
communities had their reasons to embrace English scholars and writ-
ers.
The position taken by Van Effen and ’s Gravesande was of course an
ambivalent one. As editors of the Journal littéraire they contributed to
a ‘French’ periodical (one which was even produced on Dutch soil).
The Journal littéraire was in fact the first French journal in the Repub-
126 lic to employ Dutch editors. Thus especially Van Effen, who made no
secret about his low opinion of the state of Dutch literature, ironically
became one of the chief targets for the adversaries of the Frenchifica-
tion of Dutch culture.37
Van Effen and ’s Gravesande apparently regarded the use of French
with greater nuance than did the criticasters of the Journal littéraire.
They realized that to write in French was not paramount to accepting
the superiority of French culture in all respects. In fact, by writing in
the very language that was fast growing into the lingua franca of the
eighteenth century, their advocacy of English philosophers and writ-
ers actually reached the widest possible audience.
Academic world
Being a follower of Newton offered a very practical advantage for the
way ’s Gravesande managed to organize his classes: the characteristic
emphasis on mathematics and empiricism in Newton’s natural phi-
losophy coincided perfectly with his own interests. ’s Gravesande’s
fondness for designing and improving instruments supported the
empirical part of his courses. ’s Gravesande had been experimenting
with air-pumps since he was a student. As a professor — together with
instrument maker Jan van Musschenbroek (1687–1748) — he would
devise many innovative machines.38
It must be emphasized that the use of demonstration instruments
in Leiden University’s physics classes was not introduced by ’s Grave-
sande. It was one of his predecessors, the professor of philosophy and
(eclectic) Cartesian Burchard de Volder, who first made use of demon-

stration experiments in his (public) courses in 1675. He founded a ‘the-
atrum physicum’ (physics theatre) with the financial support of the
governors of the university. De Volder’s colleague Wolferd Senguerd,
appointed extraordinary professor in peripatetic philosophy in 1675,
likewise conducted experiments in the presence of his students.39
’s Gravesande, officially appointed professor of astronomy and
mathematics in 1717, was only able to use the theatrum physicum for
public lectures after the death of Senguerd in 1724, when he became
its director. In his early days as a university professor, however, he
demonstrated physics instruments at home during his lucrative pri-
vate courses (to attend private courses, students had to pay their
professors a fee). More than had been the case in De Volder’s or Sen-
guerd’s courses, experiments were systematically interwoven with the
subjects on the curriculum. ’s Gravesande acquired great fame, in par- 127
ticular, with these courses.
According to Adriaan Cornelis de Hoog and Gerhardt Wiesenfeldt,
De Volder introduced the experimental method to find a way out of
the heated metaphysical arguments in which natural philosophy had
become hopelessly entangled. From the 1640s onwards, the Dutch
universities had been afflicted by religious and philosophical contro-
versies, with orthodox Calvinists confronting their more liberal fellow
believers. Roughly along the same divide, scholastics opposed Car-
tesians. The years 1672–1673 in particular had been troublesome for
Leiden University.40 De Volder, tired of the continuing metaphysical
controversy and also increasingly critical of some of Descartes’ views,
decided to seek refuge in the new experimental natural philosophy
coming from Britain. Following the example of the Royal Society, De
Volder saw in the experimental method a way of detaching natural
philosophy from philosophical and religious arguments. The experi-
mental method yielded empirically obtained, irrefutable ‘matters of
fact’ capable of superseding bitterly contested dogmatic arguments.
Thus scientific instruments — the air-pump especially became the
paragon of this experimental approach — were employed to get the
university, and natural philosophy in particular, out of hot water.41
The empirical method, which relied on ‘eyes and hands’ rather
than on ‘minds and tongues’, was regarded as the pre-eminent tool to
reduce human agency in the practice of natural philosophy.42 If this
also applies to ’s Gravesande, his use of instruments was in agreement
with the other activities discussed above: the collective performance

of the editorial staff of the Journal littéraire and the ‘depersonalized’
appreciation of — even — Newton’s work. This was yet another example
of separating — in modern words — the object from the subject. In his
experimental courses it was the machines that produced knowledge,
not the mind of the professor.
However, there were also more earthly reasons to found the physics
theatre, which, it was hoped, would attract more students. De Volder
himself asserted that he was convinced that the ‘usefulness and enter-
tainment of the proposed pursuit of experiments’ would draw ‘many
students from other universities and schools elsewhere’.43 ’s Grave-
sande regarded demonstrations a means to make the physics courses
more accessible and attractive to wider audiences. In a letter to New-
ton, he wrote: ‘as I talk to people who have made very little progress in
128 mathematics I have been obliged to have several machines constructed
to convey the force of propositions whose demonstrations they had
not understood’.44 ’s Gravesande even enchanted his students with a

magic lantern, which projected slides showing images of satyrs, dwarfs
and Arcadian landscapes, and an anamorphoscope (a distorted picture
that takes on a normal appearance only when seen in an appropriately
shaped, mostly cylindrical or pyramidal, mirror).45 Such demonstra-
tions could hardly have served other ends than to lend ’s Gravesande’s
courses a touch of entertainment and spectacle. It will have brought
him extra students and, perhaps not unimportantly, extra income.
The various types of instruments used by ’s Gravesande are all
described in his textbook (down to the magic lantern, to be found
in the chapter on telescopes and microscopes), with one notable
exception, namely the ‘useful’ machine models which appeared in
the theatrum physicum from the 1730s onwards. The windmills, a
dredging machine, even a steam engine, and so on, were apparently
meant to have an emblematic character and demonstrated ’s Grave-
sande’s deep-rooted conviction that God had created nature, and its
laws, in the service of humankind. In other words, the models had to
show how man might benefit from nature in the pursuit of his own
well-being, a theme that cannot be considered typically ‘Newtonian’.
The presentations in ’s Gravesande’s physics theatre, in short, offered
the audience the cutting edge in physics, combined with entertaining
and — religiously inspired — moralistic elements. The students were
offered much more than sheer Newtonian physics and philosophy.
From a broader perspective, the ostentatious use of instruments

was consistent with the policy of the university governors to enhance
the reputation of Leiden University as a Dutch — even European — cen-
tre of science and to attract (affluent) students by building rich collec-
tions. Thus, the botanical garden was enlarged (1687–1688), important
collections of books and manuscripts were purchased (especially the
enormous collection of Isaac Vossius in 1690, which among a host of
natural philosophical and mathematical works contained a copy of
the Principia), the observatory was upgraded (1689), the anatomical
theatre was fitted out with curiosa and a chemical laboratory was
founded (1669). In the Baroque era, Leiden University thus tried to
present itself as the most exquisite university of Europe.46 The spec-
tacular collection of physics demonstration instruments clearly suit-
ed this policy.
’s Gravesande made it a point of honour to present difficult subjects 129
in an accessible and clear manner. In the same way as he attracted
students with ‘very little progress in mathematics’ by offering experi-
mental courses, his Physices elementa mathematica was the first com-
prehensible handbook to disseminate Newtonian physics. The board
of the Journal littéraire, too, took considerable efforts to present its
contributions in a clear and accessible style; the journal had a reputa-
tion for its lucidity. ’s Gravesande regarded it as a main task to commu-
nicate difficult topics to wider audiences.
’s Gravesande’s love of mathematics, as we have seen, dated from
his youth. Mathematics had traditionally played an important role in
Dutch culture, but at the time of ’s Gravesande’s appointment in 1717,
the discipline had been discredited by philosophers like Descartes and
especially Spinoza, who used the mathematical method to unfold his
‘ungodly’ views.47 In his inaugural lecture, ’s Gravesande felt a need to
defend the use of mathematics by contending that mathematical rea-
soning, when soundly applied, instead provided only useful insights
into the working of nature. He referred to Isaac Newton’s natural phi-
losophy as a prime example of the profitable use of mathematics.48
Newton, he felt, could help rehabilitate mathematics.
’s Gravesande’s concern for mathematics coincided with that of
the ‘Amsterdam mathematicians’ who were among Newton’s first
supporters in the Dutch Republic — men like Bernard Nieuwentijt,
already mentioned earlier, and Lambert ten Kate (1674–1731; see Dijk-
sterhuis and Jorink and Zuidervaart in this volume) belonged to this
small, informal group. Not only did they think Spinoza had damaged
the reputation of mathematics, they also worried in particular about
the moral dangers inherent in his ‘atheist’ views. By using (part of)
Newton’s work, they hoped to offer mathematical arguments to con-
firm religious truth.49
Although ’s Gravesande will have appreciated the attempts of the
‘Amsterdam mathematicians’ to counter Spinoza’s blasphemous and
geometrical method of reasoning, his own writings do not reveal a sim-
ilar pious engagement with religious matters.50 When ’s Gravesande
refers to Spinoza by name in his oration ‘De vera et nunquam vituper-
ate, philosophia’ (1734), it is to condemn his ‘abuse’ of mathematics. In
fact ’s Gravesande, who as described observed a strict divide between
epistemology and metaphysics, quietly (and undetected by historians
so far) managed to dissociate Newton’s natural philosophy from the
130 metaphysical and theological concerns of Newton’s Dutch followers.
Bearing in mind the still fresh memories of the bitter metaphysical
controversies in the Dutch philosophical faculties in the recent past,

it may even have been an important instrument to help introduce
Newton’s natural philosophical system into the Dutch academic cur-
riculum. Following this line of argument, we may perhaps conclude
that ’s Gravesande did for Newton’s philosophy what De Volder had
achieved for natural philosophy at large, by introducing the empirical
method forty years before.51
Conclusion
From his earliest days on, ’s Gravesande lived in places where people
of different religious, political and philosophical persuasions had to
try and find a modus vivendi. In ’s-Hertogenbosch he was part of a
Protestant enclave in a largely Catholic environment, at Leiden Uni-
versity a delicate balance was kept between strictly orthodox and
more religiously moderate scholars and in Leiden and The Hague he
moved in circles of expatriate French Huguenots and British subjects
closely associated with the court. Perhaps moulded by these experi-
ences, his own attitude was that of an independent thinker. Though
he entertained strong convictions, he avoided partisanship and clear-
ly managed to cooperate with people of other religious persuasions.
That ’s Gravesande firmly embraced Newton’s natural philosophy, con-
sequently, did not make him a dogmatic Newtonian.
Adhering to Newton’s natural philosophy had beneficial practical
effects for ’s Gravesande. He obtained both powerful patrons and a

professorship as well as a means to award his beloved instruments an
essential role in his teaching. In addition, Newton’s natural philosophy
helped to restore the reputation of mathematics. Also, assuming that,
like Van Effen, he wanted to check the Frenchification of Dutch (and
European) culture, it was a good strategic choice to promote British
philosophers.
There is definitely something unsatisfactory about this conclusion.
The problem is that all arguments rest on circumstantial evidence.
We have no clear proof whether political or personal interests, rath-
er than ‘inner convictions’, did or did not motivate his interest in the
English natural philosophy of Isaac Newton. We do not know for sure
if he was actually an Orangist or if he worried about the contamina-
tion of Dutch culture by French customs and style. Furthermore, if he
did not accept arguments merely on authority in matters of natural 131
philosophy, would not this conviction also extend into the political
and religious spheres? Did he indeed develop deist inclinations, as
Israel has recently suggested?52 Did he use his instruments for intrin-
sic, methodological reasons, or simply to attract more students and
to make money? Did he purposely detach Dutch Newtonianism from
religious matters?
No characterization exists which gives us a good impression about
what kind of person ’s Gravesande was. Who was this exceptional fig-
ure, both a prominent journalist and a renowned professor, who as the
son of one of the governors of a provincial town frequented circles of
French freethinkers and who as a man of reason nevertheless moved
in the cynical world of higher, Machiavellian politics? He seems to
have been endowed with good social skills. He was deeply struck by
the death of his sons and he is said to have been a man with a great
sense of duty, but also a man of principle who stood by his opinions.
But for the rest? Even the expansive biographical sketch of Allamand,
who was very close to ’s Gravesande, does not really bring out his
personal traits and motives. Nor is it possible to deduce them from
other testimonies. Do we have to conclude that our attempts to con-
sider ’s Gravesande in the context of his time will not give us a deeper
understanding of his personality and convictions?
However, at a closer look, is not precisely the relative ‘invisibili-
ty’ of his personality consistent with his persuasions? Let us briefly
summarize the conclusions of the previous sections. In his natural
philosophy, ’s Gravesande did everything to avoid the interference of

the imagination; he ‘depersonalized’ natural philosophy. His contri-
butions to the Journal littéraire remained concealed behind the col-
lective. In his courses, the apparatuses almost physically detracted
attention from himself. He kept his natural philosophy separate from
his religious sentiments. Another notable thing is the only personal
criticism of ’s Gravesande I have come across, which was that in the
first two editions of his Physices elementa mathematica he did not
name his sources.53 Did he, as this criticism seems to suggest, want
to appropriate the work of others? Or was this again a perhaps naïve
but consistent example of downplaying the personal element? He
did not claim intellectual ownership of his instruments, but rather
helped to disseminate the designs by describing and drawing them in
detail in his handbook.54 The only thing De boekzaal van Europa has
132 to mention about him in the obituary notice is that he did not want
a funeral oration (which, incidentally, was not unusual). No personal
papers and hardly any correspondence have survived of ’s Gravesande

(although this might not have been his own, deliberate choice). We
know ’s Gravesande’s work very well, but we do not know the person
behind the work: did he — consciously or unconsciously — ‘deperson-
alize’ himself ?
It is a matter of speculation, but ’s Gravesande’s experiences with
people of different philosophical and religious backgrounds may have
taught him not to hold prejudices against people because of their
(divergent) ideas. A person and his opinions are two different things.
What we see in fact occurring in the activities of ’s Gravesande is a
principal, idealistic and fundamental separation between the per-
son and his ideas. Nowadays every journalist, scientist and politician
is familiar with this separation (or at least should be). Anyone who
engages in public debates ought to confront ideas and opinions, but
not the person expressing them.
We see ’s Gravesande and his contemporaries — like his fellow edi-
tors of the Journal littéraire — actually attempting in a very deliberate
manner to construct a division line between a person and his ideas.
Perhaps they were inspired by the British experimentalists around
Robert Boyle (1627–1691) to end pedantry and the contentiousness
among scholars by introducing ‘gentlemanly conventions’ in the schol-
arly community (see also the previous section). Rejection of authority
and the seeking of truth by a ‘selfless self ’, who is not chasing celebrity
or personal benefit, was part of the values propagated by them.55 It is

interesting to see that ’s Gravesande observed the separation between
person and ideas more strictly than we do — we tend to allow more of
our own personality into our professional work and opinions than he
did (twenty-first century journals in general do not have editors who
are willing to act as an anonymous collective). It is also interesting to
notice that the question has not lost anything of its topicality since the
days of ’s Gravesande.
Thus, ’s Gravesande lives on as an elusive person, a Mann Ohne
Eigenschaften (man without qualities), whom we mainly know through
his work and his ideas. Let us simply respect this and let the person
’s Gravesande rest in an undoubtedly peaceful obscurity.
Notes 133
1 For instance: J.N.S. Allamand, ‘Histoire de la vie et des ouvrages de
Mr. ’s Gravesande’, in: J.N.S. Allamand (ed.), Oeuvres philosophiques et
mathématiques de Mr. G.J. ’s Gravesande (Amsterdam 1774), pp. x-lix; P.L.
Rijke, ‘Levensschets van Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande’, Album der natuur:
een werk ter verspreiding van natuurkennis onder beschaafde lezers van
allerlei stand, nieuwe reeks 27 (1879), pp. 65–88; C. de Pater, ‘Willem J.
’s Gravesande’, in: A.J. Kox (ed.), Van Stevin tot Lorentz: portretten van acht-
tien Nederlandse natuurwetenschappers (Amsterdam 1990), pp. 81–92;
C. de Pater, ‘Inleiding’, in: C. de Pater (ed.), Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande,
welzijn, wetenschap en wijsbegeerte (Baarn 1998), pp. 23–58; P. de Clercq,
‘The ’s Gravesande collection in the Museum Boerhaave, Leiden’, Nuncius
1 (1988), pp. 127–137; R. Vermij, The Calvinist Copernicans: the reception of
the new astronomy in the Dutch Republic, 1575–1750 (Amsterdam 2002), pp.
335–348.
2 Jorink and Zuidervaart in this volume.
3 De Pater, Welzijn (note 1); C. de Pater, ‘Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande, een
newtoniaans filosoof ’, Wijsgerig perspectief op maatschappij en weten-
schap 29 (1988–1989), pp. 7–12; C. de Pater, ‘Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande
(1688–1742) and Newton’s Regulae Philosophandi, 1742’, Lias: sources and
documents relating to the early modern history of ideas 21 (1994), pp. 257–
294; P. Schuurman, Ideas, mental faculties and method: the logic of Des-
cartes and Locke and its reception in the Dutch Republic (Leiden, Boston
2004), pp. 129–155.
4 J. Israel, Radical Enlightenment: philosophy and the making of modernity,
1650–1750 (Oxford 2001), p. 524.
5 Ibidem, pp. 555–568.
6 This section is largely based on: De Pater, Welzijn (note 1).

7 On the other hand, in his epistemology ’s Gravesande saw wider applica-
tions than Newton for using hypotheses to generate knowledge. These,
however, ought to be deployed in a strict manner, according to a set of six
rules formulated by ’s Gravesande: Schuurman, Ideas (note 3), p. 153.
8 Fokko Jan Dijksterhuis recently focused on a case whereby ’s Grave-
sande’s treatment of optics was actually more ‘hypothetical’ than New-
ton’s: F.J. Dijksterhuis, ‘Reading up on the Opticks: Refashioning Newton’s
theories of light and colors in eighteenth-century textbooks’, Perspectives
on science 16 (2008), pp. 307–327, on 311. Even for inveterate opponents of
‘using hypothesis’, it sometimes proved difficult in practice not to lapse
into speculative arguments: see, in particular, De Pater in this volume.
9 J. Israel, Enlightenment contested: philosophy, modernity, and the emanci-
pation of man, 1670–1752 (Oxford 2006), pp. 215–222.
10 See also Jorink and Zuidervaart in this volume.
134
11 The main source of ’s Gravesande’s biography is the account written
by his successor Allamand: Allamand, ‘Histoire’ (note 1); see also J.N.S.
Allamand, ‘’s Gravesande’, in: P. Marchand, Dictionnaire historique ou
mémoires critiques et littéraires, 2 vols. (The Hague 1759), vol. 2, pp. 224–
227. However, as the genealogic research of Koenen has shown in par-
ticular, Allamand’s description of ’s Gravesande’s origins is not always
accurate: H.J. Koenen, ‘Het geslacht van professor ’s-Gravesande’, Alge-
meen Nederlandsch familieblad 11 (1885), pp. 261–268. See also: A. van der
Wijck, ‘Bijdrage tot de genealogie der familie Storm van ’s Gravesande’,
Heraldieke bibliotheek 2 (1873), pp. 121–144.
12 Koenen, ‘Geslacht’ (note 11), p. 266.
13 Allamand (ed.), Oeuvres (note 1), p. ix-x.
14 G. Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum in Minervas Haus: experimentelle Naturlehre
an der Universität Leiden, 1675–1715 (Amsterdam 2002), p. 248.
15 W.J. ’s Gravesande, Dissertatio juridica inauguralis de autocheiria (Leiden
1707).
16 E. Shoesmith, ‘The continental controversy over Arbuthnot’s argument
for divine providence’, Historia mathematica 14 (1987), pp. 133–146; R. Ver-
mij, Secularisering en natuurwetenschap in de zeventiende en achttiende
eeuw: Bernard Nieuwentijt (Amsterdam 1991), pp. 118–120.
17 J. Israel, The Dutch Republic: its rise, greatness, and fall (Oxford 1995), pp.
968–975 and 985–986.
18 Ibidem, pp. 988–989.
19 J. Aalbers, ‘Factieuze tegenstellingen binnen het college van de ridder-
schap van Holland na de vrede van Utrecht’, Bijdragen en mededelingen
betreffende de geschiedenis der Nederlanden 93 (1978), pp. 412–445; P.J.
Buijnsters, Justus van Effen (1684–1735): leven en werk (Utrecht 1992), pp.
48–56.
20 Ibidem; Th. Bussemaker, ‘De Republiek der Vereenigde Nederlanden en

de keurvorst-koning George I’, Bijdragen voor vaderlandse geschiedenis en
oudheidkunde, 4th series, 1 (1900), pp. 263–344; R. Geikie and I.A. Mont-
gomery, The Dutch barrier, 1705–1719 (Cambridge 1930).
21 On the tasks of a secretary: J. Aalbers, De Republiek en de vrede van Europa
(Groningen 1980), pp. 283–286.
22 Buijnsters, Justus van Effen (note 19), pp. 99–114. Desaguliers’ translation:
Mathematical elements of natural philosophy confirmed by experiments: or
an introduction to Sir Isaac Newton’s philosophy (London 1720); on Desa-
guliers, see also Jorink and Zuidervaart in this volume.
23 S. Shapin and S. Schaffer, Leviathan and the air-pump: Hobbes, Boyle, and
the experimental life (Princeton 1985).
24 L. Jardine, Going Dutch: how England plundered Holland’s glory (London
2008), pp. 310–314.
25 Ibidem, pp. 27–52.
26 L. Maass, Het Journal littéraire de La Haye (1713–1723): de uitwendige 135
geschiedenis van een geleerdentijdschrift (PhD thesis, Katholieke Universi-
teit Nijmegen, 2001), p. 158n.
27 See also Jorink and Zuidervaart in this volume.
28 W.J. ’s Gravesande to I. Newton, 28 May 1714, in: H.W. Turnbull, A.R. Hall
and L. Tilling (eds), The correspondence of Isaac Newton, 7 vols. (Cam-
bridge 1976), vol. 6, pp. 144–145; W. Burnet to J. Bernoulli, 8 April 1714,
in: ibidem, pp. 96–97. See also: R.S. Westfall, Never at rest: a biography of
Isaac Newton (Cambridge 1980), pp. 741–744.
29 W. Otterspeer, De vesting van de macht: de Leidse universiteit, 1673–1775.
Groepsportret met dame (Amsterdam 2005), p. 77.
30 Israel, Contested (note 9), p. 70.
31 Maass, Het Journal littéraire de La Haye (note 26); Buijnsters, Justus van
Effen (note 19), pp. 75–98.
32 About physico-theology in the Journal littéraire: H. Bots and J.J.V.M. de
Vet, ‘De fysico-theologie in het Journal littéraire: Haagse journalisten ten
strijde tegen het ongeloof ’, Documentatieblad werkgroep achttiende eeuw
18 (1986), pp. 213–226.
33 Allamand, ‘Histoire’ (note 1), pp. xii-xxi; De Pater, Welzijn (note 1), p. 154;
C. Berkvens-Stevelinck, ‘Nicolas Hartsoeker contre Isaac Newton ou
pourquoi les planetes se meuvent-elles?’, Lias: sources and documents
relating to the early modern history of ideas 2 (1975), pp. 313–322.
34 W.W. Mijnhardt, ‘Dutch culture in the age of William and Mary: cosmo-
politan or provincial?’, in: D.E. Hoak and M. Feingold (eds), The world of
William and Mary: Anglo-Dutch perspectives on the revolution of 1688–89
(Stanford 1996), pp. 219–233.
35 Buijnsters, Justus van Effen (note 19), p. 71.
36 Israel, Radical Enlightenment (note 4), pp. 515–527.
37 Mijnhardt, ‘Dutch culture’ (note 34), pp. 229–230.

38 P. de Clercq, At the sign of the Oriental Lamp: the Musschenbroek workshop
in Leiden, 1660–1750 (Rotterdam 1997), pp. 73–102; P. de Clercq, The Leiden
Cabinet of Physics: a descriptive catalogue, Museum Boerhaave Commu-
nications 271 (Leiden 1997).
39 E.G. Ruestow, Physics at 17th- and 18th-century Leiden (The Hague 1973);
Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum (note 14); A.C. de Hoog, Some currents of
thought in Dutch natural philosophy, 1675–1720 (PhD thesis, Oxford Uni-
versity, 1974), pp. 122–256.
40 For this controversy, see also: W. van Bunge, From Stevin to Spinoza: an
essay on philosophy in the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic (Leiden,
Boston, Köln 2001); Th. Verbeek, Descartes and the Dutch: early reactions
to Cartesian philosophy, 1637–1650 (Carbondale, Edwardsville 1992); J.A.
van Ruler, The crisis of causality: Voetius and Descartes on God, nature and
change (Leiden, New York, Köln 1995).
136
41 De Hoog, Some currents (note 39), p. 143; Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum (note
14), pp. 7 and 111–112; Otterspeer, Vesting (note 29), pp. 54 and 108.
42 Shapin and Schaffer, Leviathan (note 23).
43 Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum (note 14), p. 62.

44 ’s Gravesande to Newton, 13/24 June 1718, in: A. Rupert Hall, ‘Further
Newton Correspondence’, Notes and records of the Royal Society of London
37 (1982–1983), pp. 7–34 [original in French].
45 De Clercq, Leiden Cabinet of Physics (note 38), pp. 108–124.
46 Otterspeer, Vesting (note 29), pp. 95–145.
47 Van Bunge, Stevin to Spinoza (note 40); R. Vermij, ‘The formation of the
Newtonian philosophy: the case of the Amsterdam mathematical ama-
teurs’, British journal for the history of science 36 (2003), pp. 183–200.
48 ‘Oratio inauguralis de Matheseos on omnibus scientiis, praecipue in
Physicis, Usu, nec non de Astronomiae perfectione ex Physica haurien-
da’; Dutch adaptation in: De Pater, Welzijn (note 1), pp. 72–86.
49 Vermij, ‘Formation’ (note 47).
50 By the time’s Gravesande had been appointed, ‘Amsterdam mathemati-
cians’ like Nieuwentijt and Ten Kate had come to realize the fruitlessness
of their attempts to support religion by mathematical argument. They
now directed their attention to physico-theological reasoning, which
aimed at providing a more ‘empirical’ evidence for God’s providence. See:
Vermij, ‘Formation’ (note 47), pp. 194–196. For Ten Kate see Dijksterhuis
in this volume.
51 On the other hand, before ’s Gravesande entered the stage, the religious
and metaphysical aspects inherent in Dutch Newtonianism may also
help to explain the ‘remarkable consensus’ among professors like Sengu-
erd, De Volder and Jacob le Mort (1650–1718) that ‘Newtonian philosophy
[...] was not considered an appropriate alternative for the purposes of
Leiden University’, in: Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum (note 14), p. 10.

52 Israel, Contested (note 9), pp. 215–222 and 395.
53 G.A. Lindeboom, Herman Boerhaave: the man and his work, 2nd ed. (Rot-
terdam 2007), p. 216.
54 De Clercq, ‘Collection’ (note 1), p. 129.
55 S. Shapin, A social history of truth: civility and science in seventeenth-cen-
tury England (Chicago, London 1994), esp. pp. 123–124.
137
‘The Wisest Man to Whom this Earth

Has as Yet Given Birth’
Petrus van Musschenbroek and the limits of
Newtonian natural philosophy
KEES DE PATER
Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761) is often bracketed together 139

with Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande (1688–1742) as the two great Dutch
‘ T H E WIS E ST MAN TO W H OM T H I S EART H H AS AS Y E T G I VE N B I RT H ’

popularizers of the natural philosophy of Isaac Newton. Although each
of them had his own individual approach, both men were experimen-
tal physicists who followed and defended Newton’s scientific meth-
od. They disseminated this approach in their teaching, which they
improved drastically, in particular thanks to the often newly designed
demonstration instruments.1 A considerable number of students all
over Europe learnt the first principles of physics from their textbooks
or by attending their lectures.2 Also in their academic orations both
physicists often discussed Newton’s empirico-mathematical method
and emphasised the reliability of its results. In the dissemination on
the European Continent of Newton’s ideas, method and discoveries by
means of teaching, textbooks and orations lies the enduring merit of
both Dutch physicists.
However, Van Musschenbroek did more than just spread the word
of this British genius. He also conducted research, in which he was
guided by Newton’s methodology. In practice, Van Musschenbroek’s
focus, however, was aimed particularly at the empirical aspect. This
article, by focusing on the principles of research of Van Musschen-
broek, aims to reveal some dilemmas raised by the limits of this empir-
icism. It could lead, as will be shown, to unfruitful observations and
sometimes even to pointless speculations. This article will start with a
survey of Van Musschenbroek’s life and career and the most important
part of his scientific legacy: his textbook oeuvre. This will be followed
by a discussion of Van Musschenbroek’s methods of research: first his

empirical studies and then his views on matter and forces.
Petrus Van Musschenbroek: Life and career

In 1726, when the third edition of Newton’s Principia appeared, Petrus
van Musschenbroek, at the time a 34–year-old professor of philosophy,
mathematics and astronomy at the University of Utrecht, published a
concise textbook entitled Epitome elementorum physico-mathematico-
rum. In the preface he mentions a number of luminaries in the rap-
idly expanding natural sciences. Newton is one of them, though Van
Musschenbroek seems to believe that he surpasses them all. Newton is
the only scientist who Van Musschenbroek praised in such transcend-
ent terms as ‘a man of extraordinary talent and divine acuteness in
physics and mathematics’.3 Such extravagant appreciation of the
140 author of the Principia and the Opticks was, at that time, certainly not
common on the European Continent.
Petrus (Pieter) van Musschenbroek was born in 1692 as the second

son of the instrument maker Johan Joosten van Musschenbroek (1660–
1707) and Margaretha van der Straeten (1659–1743). The Van Muss-
chenbroeks were the most well-known family of instrument makers
in the Dutch Republic in the period 1650–1750. In particular, Petrus’
elder brother Jan gave the business a great reputation by producing air-
pumps and other equipment for use in physical experiments. A unique
collaboration existed between Jan van Musschenbroek (1687–1748) and
the Leiden professor Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande in the production of
instruments for the demonstrations that enlivened the latter’s lectures
on experimental physics.4 Contrary to his brother, Petrus chose an aca-
demic career. He studied medicine under Herman Boerhaave (1668–
1738) in Leiden, and in 1715 he gained his doctorate under the renowned
physician with a dissertation about air in bodily fluids.5 His strongly
empirical attitude was already apparent in this work.
The University of Leiden was surely the place where Van Musschen-
broek became (better) acquainted with the ideas of Newton and other
English investigators. A pirated edition of the second edition of the
Principia (1713) produced in 1714 enabled many to become acquainted
with Newton’s main work.6 In 1715 Boerhaave was one of the first who
openly expressed his high esteem for Newton in an academic address
(see Knoeff in this volume). All his life Van Musschenbroek was a faith-
ful follower of Boerhaave.
In 1717, the same year that ’s Gravesande became a professor at

Leiden, Van Musschenbroek made a study trip to London, where he
attended the lessons in experimental physics given by John Theophile
Desaguliers (1683–1744), with whom he remained on friendly terms.
He must have met other members of the Royal Society, but little is
known about these contacts. We do know, from a letter dating from
1726 to which I will come back, that he had personally met with New-
ton. He only became a member of the Royal Society in 1734.
After his return from England Van Musschenbroek briefly attended
’s Gravesande’s lectures. In 1719 he was offered a professorship in math-
ematics and philosophy at Duisburg by King Wilhelm I of Prussia. On
this occasion he was granted a doctorate honoris causa in philosophy.
The degree certificate features the signatures of ’s Gravesande and
Wolferd Senguerd (1646–1724), who was also a member of the phil-
osophical faculty of Leiden University. No work written by Van Mus- 141
schenbroek appeared in print during the Duisburg period (1719–1723).

Nothing is known about an inaugural lecture either. We do know, how-
ever, that after only six months he established an ‘observatorium astro-
nomicum’ on top of the Salvatorkirche. In the second year he was also
appointed professor of medicine. He assumed this new function with a
lecture on the possibility of linking medicine with natural philosophy.7
In 1723, at the age of 31, Van Musschenbroek became professor of
philosophy and mathematics in Utrecht, where he introduced Newto-
nian natural philosophy. A professorship in astronomy was added in
1732, after the observatory on the Smeetoren (Smee Tower) had been
very much improved. Van Musschenbroek assumed his duties in 1723
with an Oratio de certa methodo philosophiae experimentalis, in which
he pleaded for Newton’s empirico-mathematical method. A number of
scientists were discussed, but Newton was the ‘greatest of all mortals’
or even an ‘immortal light’. These were very novel views in Utrecht.8
Late in the year 1739, Van Musschenbroek went back to Leiden. For-
mally he took over the chair of Jacobus Wittichius (1677–1739), but
in practice he was known as successor to ’s Gravesande (who died in
1742) as the figurehead of Leiden natural philosophy. Van Musschen-
broek would stay in Leiden until his death in 1761.
The Epitome, a survey of the principles of physics mentioned above,
was based on the physics lectures he delivered during the first three
years of his Utrecht professorship. It seems he wanted Newton to know
that he contributed to the dissemination of his theories, for he sent a
142
Fig. 1: Jan (standing) and Petrus van Musschenbroek, by Hieronimus van der
Mij (1715). (Museum Boerhaave, Leiden, P00810)
copy to London, where the then 83–year old author of the Principia
had been Master of the Mint for many years. Just like ’s Gravesande,
Van Musschenbroek displayed an almost diffident veneration for him:
Being an admirer of your wisdom and philosophical teaching,

of which I had experience while in Britain in familiar conver-
sation with yourself, I thought it no error to follow in your
footsteps (though far behind), in embracing and propagating
the Newtonian philosophy. I began to do so in two univer-
sities, where the triflings of Cartesianism flourished, and
met with success, so that there is hope that the Newtonian
philosophy will be seen as true in the greater part of Holland,
with praise of yourself. It would flourish even more but for the
resistance of certain prejudiced and casuistical theologians.
I have prepared a compendium for beginners with which, if it

does not displease you greatly, I shall be well satisfied. I shall
always endeavour to serve the wisest man to whom this Earth
has as yet given birth. (Utrecht 23 February 1726)9
Quotations such as this one — to which several others could be add-

ed — might suggest that Van Musschenbroek was a slavish follower of
Newton. Such a conclusion, however, would be premature. Just like
’s Gravesande, Van Musschenbroek chose Leibniz’s position in the
so-called vis viva controversy — whether the ‘force’ of a moving body
is proportional to mv (René Descartes, 1596–1650) or to mv2 (Gottfried
Leibniz, 1646–1716) — while most English Newtonians opted for Des-
cartes’ view.
Textbooks 143
Van Musschenbroek’s textbooks are undoubtedly the most important

part of his scientific legacy. The Epitome was the first of these. All sub-
sequent publications can be viewed as adaptations and extensions of
this book, even when the titles were different. In 1734 and 1741 the first
and second editions appeared of the Elementa physicae conscripta in
usus academicos, which was followed in 1748 by Institutiones physicae
conscripta in usus academicos; and finally in 1762 Johan Lulofs (1711–
1768) published posthumously a textbook that had been expanded
and brought up to date by Van Musschenbroek himself, under the title
Introductio ad philosophiam naturalem. In the same year an abridged
version was made available for students, the Compendium physicae
experimentalis conscripta in usus academicos, comparable in size to
the Epitome. In addition, Van Musschenbroek published in 1736 the
Beginselen der natuurkunde, beschreven ten dienste der landgenooten,
the first modern physics textbook in Dutch, of which a new edition
appeared only three years later (the first word of the title having been
changed from ‘Beginselen’ to ‘Beginsels’). This work closely resembled
the Latin textbooks. In several European countries reprints appeared
of the Latin textbooks, in particular of the Elementa physicae of 1741.
There were also translations into French, German, English and Swed-
ish. Contrary to present-day practice, these textbooks also contained
the results of his own experiments.10
In line with his preference for empirical research (see the next
section), Van Musschenbroek’s textbooks are less mathematical in
approach than the various editions of ’s Gravesande’s textbook. Petrus

Camper (1722–1789), who gained his doctorate under Van Musschen-
broek, advised new physics students to use the textbooks of his teach-
er because they contained less mathematics. Van Musschenbroek
informed his readers extensively about the results of his experiments,
even though he wasn’t sure what to do with them. ’s Gravesande usu-
ally included his measurements only if they could be processed math-
ematically and led to clear conclusions. In their academic addresses
these different attitudes to mathematics were equally apparent:
’s Gravesande paid special attention in one of his academic orations
to the benefits of mathematics, while Van Musschenbroek gave an
address on the proper experimental method.11
The content of ’s Gravesande’s Physices elementa mathematica has
a stronger focus on Newton’s work than Van Musschenbroek’s text-
144 books. This is already apparent in the subtitle of ’s Gravesande’s work:
Introductio ad philosophiam Newtonianam, which is lacking in the titles
of Van Musschenbroek’s textbooks. In this respect a comparison of the

third edition of ’s Gravesande’s textbook (1742) with the second edi-
tion of Van Musschenbroek’s Elementa physicae (1741), which appeared
more or less simultaneously, is illuminating. The two physicists are
entirely guided by Newton in the areas of gravitation, attractive forc-
es, (celestial) mechanics, optics and the like, but Van Musschenbroek
also pays attention to magnetism, electricity, heat, meteorology and
the strength of materials, topics that are largely ignored by Newton
and ’s Gravesande. On the other hand, ’s Gravesande discusses the
Newtonian world system, which is not included in his textbooks by
Van Musschenbroek. In the wake of Robert Boyle (1627–1691), New-
ton and Boerhaave, Van Musschenbroek pays attention to chemistry,
which is ignored by ’s Gravesande.
The limits of empiricism

Following a ‘Newtonian’ line of reasoning, Van Musschenbroek con-
tended that reliable natural science can only be based on observation
and experiment. From the evidence that has been obtained empirical-
ly, conclusions have to be drawn with the help of logic and mathemat-
ics and, if possible, laws have to be formulated that in their turn can
be tested experimentally, so as to discover the causes of phenomena.
In Van Musschenbroek’s words:
If a natural science is to be established and advanced, it will

either be based on sensory perception and subsequently
mathematical reasoning, or it will never come into being.12
and also:
The Newtonians collect observations, and perform experi-

ments, which they compare with each other, and from which
they draw conclusions, which they again confirm with experi-
ments, thus reasoning from facts, and attempting to discover
the causes of phenomena from them.13
To be able to draw reliable conclusions and to give them a mathemat-

ical form, sufficiently reliable and varied factual evidence has to be
available. This is strongly emphasized by Van Musschenbroek. In his 145
Introductio ad philosophiam naturalem (1761) he writes: ‘for only the

observations, only the experiments constitute the true and solid foun-
dations of natural philosophy’.14 This emphasis on collecting evidence
in itself was not introduced by Newton, but is characteristic of the
Baconian tradition in natural philosophy. Around 1600 Francis Bacon
(1561–1626) argued for the need of a ‘natural history’, a ‘data bank’ of
reliable empirical evidence so as to construct a new natural science
from the foundations.15 Bacon’s empiricism is a rational empiricism:
the evidence that was collected would have to be ordered and pro-
cessed by reason. In 1715 he was still mentioned in adulatory terms by
Boerhaave.
There is also a certain element of Baconianism in Van Musschen-
broek. Time and again we find in his publications lists, sometimes long
lists, in which experimental results are assembled. In the Introductio
there is a list of specific gravities that occupies no fewer than 26 pages.
In his work we come across lists of substances that are attracted by
magnets, lists of heights of fluid rise in capillaries, etc. His extensive
meteorological investigations also reflect the Baconian tradition.16
And yet, characterizing Van Musschenbroek purely as a Baconian
doesn’t do justice to his intentions. Just like his teacher and colleague
’s Gravesande, he reiterated the need for processing the acquired
evidence mathematically, if this was possible. In physics, empirical
observation and mathematics cannot be separated, he argued. How-
ever, in fact he often published lists with a multiplicity of experimental
results, which in future might be useful for the intended purpose, rath-
er than jumping to conclusions and formulating mathematical rela-
tions on the basis of a few superficial observations.17 At the same time
he strongly emphasized the importance of finding forces and the laws
they obey, an eminently Newtonian theme. Many of his investigations
were devoted to such attempts in the areas of magnetism, capillarity,
the strength of materials, and heat (expansion).
His unwillingness to make hasty generalizations is closely linked
with the stringent demands he made on empirical research so as to
produce reliable results. In an éloge devoted to Van Musschenbroek,
Nicolas de Condorcet (1743–1794) drew attention to this point:
One finds in his works a long series of well-performed exper-

iments, the results of which have been exactly calculated; a
146 large number of well-observed and precisely described facts,
several experimental devices, either invented or improved
by him, and above all an excellent method of philosophizing.

When his investigations do not lead to general results, he
contents himself with presenting his experiments baldly, and
he rather runs the risk of being considered a physicist with-
out vision, than producing systems instead of truths.18
A good example of Van Musschenbroek’s empirical research are his

studies on magnetism. In contrast to ’s Gravesande, who only referred
to it in passing, Van Musschenbroek occupied himself extensively with
it. He published his study of this topic in Dissertatio physica experimen-
talis de magnete, as a part of a collection of treatises, which appeared
in 1729. It was later reprinted separately in Vienna (1754).19 In 1734
Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772) included large parts of the text in
his Examen principiorum rerum naturalium cum phaenomenis magne-
ticis (1734).20 Van Musschenbroek’s interest in magnetic phenomena is
in part connected with its importance for navigation. Part of his work
concerns this application. The Baconian element is abundantly pres-
ent: there are many lists and tables in the book with observational data
and results of measurement. He formulated the main purpose of the
study of magnetism into two questions, viz. what link is there between
the force and the distance of two attractive or repulsive magnets, and
what is the essence, the true cause, of the phenomenon of magnetism?
Much earlier, in 1712, at the request of Newton, who had been presi-
dent of the Royal Society since 1703, Francis Hauksbee (1660–1713) and
Brook Taylor (1685–1731) had attempted to find a force law for mag-
netism by means of the deflection method: a magnetic needle placed
in the meridian was deflected over a certain angle under the influence
of a nearby magnet. By measuring the angle of deflection while the
magnet was placed at different distances and calculating the force as
a function of this angle, they tried to find a force law of the form F ∝ r-n,
the exponent n to be derived from observations. They did not, howev-
er, manage to produce a satisfactory result. What is measured by this
method, incidentally, is in fact the couple that makes the needle turn,
and not the total magnetic force. Nevertheless, in the second edition
of the Principia (1713), that is, after the experiments by Hauksbee and
Taylor, Newton stated that a few rough measurements showed that
the exponent n approximately equalled 3.21
Van Musschenbroek began his investigations in 1724.22 He didn’t 147
use the deflection method but employed a balance. The force between

a magnet suspended from one arm of the balance and a magnet
attached to the table underneath was measured by placing a weight
in the scale attached to the other arm that counterbalanced the force
of the magnet. In his treatise of 1729 he published many observations,
but was unable to derive a law. Van Musschenbroek continued his
experiments for many years as is apparent from the repeatedly revised
section on magnetism in his textbooks.
More than ten years later he formulated several laws of the form
F ∝ r-n for specific shapes of magnets or iron bodies and for a limited
distance interval. They first appeared in a manuscript entitled De viri-
bus magneticis (1740). There were four, where n = 1, n = 1.5, n = 2.5, and
n = 4. As from the second edition of the Elementa physicae (1741) they
were also included in the textbooks. The last case was already present
in the second edition (1739) of the Beginselen. The notion of ‘distance’
(for example, between two globes) was now made more precise by tak-
ing the volume of the space between two bodies within an enveloping
cylinder or cone, which involves a correction of the shortest distance.
It should be pointed out that several contemporaries of the Dutch
physicist concluded that there were general laws purely on the basis
of a small number of observations. Van Musschenbroek never did that.
His respect for the experimental results was too great for that.
In the 1740 manuscript he expressed already his disappointment
about his experimental results:
I am not entirely convinced that one and the same law applies
to all magnets on earth, as I have used only three magnets
in the investigation to be described below. However, if oth-
er magnets were to obey different laws, the investigators of
nature would never see their wish [for a universally valid
force law] fulfilled and would do better to give up their inves-
tigations and stop wasting their time.23
Drawing conclusions was hampered by the use of weak, often not very
homogeneous natural magnets, and by the fact that there are two
attractive and two repulsive forces if the magnetism is located in two
points in a magnet. Apart from these problems, it is clear that the Baco-
nian-heuristic method fails in this case. This approach implied that Van
Musschenbroek was looking for a force law between two bodies as they
148 are given in the experimental arrangement. In 1819, the Norwegian (geo)
physicist Christopher Hansteen (1784–1873) pointed out that experi-
ments like Van Musschenbroek’s were not suited to finding a general

law for magnetism, because the results also depended on the intensity
distribution of the magnetism of the bodies that were used, while with-
out a theory the concept of ‘distance’ was also problematic.24
Although Van Musschenbroek recognized these problems him-
self, he kept reiterating that an empirical approach was required:
the magnet had to be subjected to a variety of experiments, without
involving any hypotheses. It only became possible to find a law when
Charles-Augustin de Coulomb (1736–1806) managed, with the help
of a torsion balance, to measure the force between two point-poles.
However, the inverse square law was only definitively accepted as the
general law for the magnetic force when it was possible to perform
experiments the results of which corresponded with the calculations
made on the basis of the theory.25
Matter and forces

Van Musschenbroek was extremely negative about Descartes. In
many places he denounced the dreaming up of general causes in
order to construct a natural science deductively, without consulting
nature itself. Cartesians know no better than piling hypothesis upon
hypothesis, he said, so that natural science is debased to a ‘science of
guessing’. More than once he poured out the vials of his displeasure
over the natural philosophers who in their studies devised chimaeras
and ‘inanities’. It is better to devote one’s time to collecting observa-

tions than to building specious systems on an unsound foundation of
imaginary principles.26 In ’s Gravesande’s work this polemic is almost
completely lacking, even though he was as disposed to hypotheses as
Van Musschenbroek was. Only in the preface of his Physices elementa
mathematica does he explicitly reject hypotheses.27
However, notwithstanding his warnings against using ‘unsound
imaginary principles’, Van Musschenbroek himself could not prevent
slipping into speculations about matter and forces, for instance in the
discussion about the problem of the divisibility of matter. Van Mus-
schenbroek addressed this issue following the British Newtonians and
’s Gravesande. Contrary to ’s Gravesande who viewed divisibility as a
mathematical question, Van Musschenbroek distinguished between
‘mathematical divisibility’ and ‘actual divisibility’. From the fact that
the space taken up by a body can be shown to be infinitely divisible 149
mathematically it cannot be concluded that the body itself is infinitely

divisible. For that we have to rely on experiment. On the basis of argu-
ments derived from experience, he was convinced of the existence
of indivisible particles. Like Newton in the ‘Queries’ of the Opticks,
he assumed that God had created these atoms in the beginning. He
admitted that firm proofs were lacking, and he didn’t want to impose
this view upon others as an established fact.
The Newtonian John Keill (1671–1721) disputed the distinction
between ‘mathematical’ and ‘physical divisibility’. The divisibility of a
physical body depends essentially only on its extension, a viewpoint
that Descartes had adopted as a necessary consequence of his identi-
fication of matter and extension. Atoms created by God that are indi-
visible by the forces of nature cannot exist in Keill’s view, as God is
capable of dividing them. ’s Gravesande shared this view, although he
did not engage in a polemic against the atomists.28
Concerning the constitution of physical bodies Van Musschenbroek
followed Newton. Atoms are the ultimate building blocks of all bodies.
A small number of atoms forms a first-order particle; a number of these
particles forms a second-order particle, and so on. Large bodies are
composed of such agglomerates of different orders. Only homogeneous
bodies are made up of particles of the same order. The real quantity
of matter of a body remains unknown to us, as we don’t know what
the volume of the pores is. On the assumption that each particle of
order n consists half of particles of order n–1 and half of empty space,
the ratio of solid mass to empty space in a particle of order n equals

(2n–1) : 1. Van Musschenbroek derived this calculation from Newton’s
Opticks.29
An important aspect of the Newtonian explanation of nature is the
use of attractive and repulsive forces. In the Principia Newton had not
only explained the motion of the planets with the help of the principle
of general gravitation, which was highly praised by his followers, but
he had also hinted at other attractive forces, stronger than gravitation
and only active at short distances. In addition we also come across
repulsive forces. In the preface of the Principia Newton had already
expressed the conjecture: ‘that all phenomena may depend on cer-
tain forces by which the particles of bodies, by causes not yet known,
either are impelled toward one another and cohere in regular figures,
or are repelled from one another and recede’.30 Newton had given a
150 hypothetical explanation of Boyle’s law (pv = constant) by assuming a
repulsive force between the particles of an elastic fluid, which was only
active between adjacent particles and that was inversely proportional

to the distance between them. And conversely he derived Boyle’s law
from this force.31
The success of Newton’s theory of gravitation led to attempts by
many investigators to discover the effects of forces in natural phe-
nomena. In Van Musschenbroek’s work forces play an important
role, perhaps even more than in the work of other Newtonians in and
before his time. In his textbooks he extensively discussed magnetism,
electricity, capillarity and cohesion in solid bodies (strength of materi-
als), while his most important scientific treatises (1729) were devoted
to these phenomena.32
Van Musschenbroek usually assembles these natural phenomena,
together with gravitation, under the heading of attractive (or repul-
sive) forces. By ‘attraction’ in the strict sense, however, he denotes the
force that makes the smallest particles of bodies approach each other
and adhere to each other. Gravity and this specific attraction are both
invariable properties of matter, which God has implanted in physical
bodies. That these are indeed two different forces is apparent from
observation. The attraction between small particles is much stronger
than the force of gravitation and diminishes so quickly that it is active
only over very short distances while gravitation works over ‘infinitely
far distances’. Following Newton and the other Newtonians, he claims
that a force law F ∝ r-n, where n > 2, must apply to this phenomenon.33
The examples that Van Musschenbroek adduces as proof for the

existence of attraction are also to be found in Newton, Boerhaave,
’s Gravesande and the English Newtonians. Amongst them are capil-
larity and cohesion in solid bodies, which he had investigated much
more extensively than they had done. He calls cohesion between parti-
cles in solid bodies cohaerentia, or the ‘strength, firmness or resistance
of solid bodies’. He not only paid attention to this topic in his text-
books, in particularly in his Introductio, but with an eye to practical
applications he had already in 1729 published an extensive study of
the strength of wood, metal and other materials, which was one of
the treatises I mentioned above.34 From the large number of measure-
ments he had derived a few formulae, one of them concerns a ‘snap
formula’ for the force needed to break a vertical beam.35
Like Newton, Boerhaave and John Freind (1675–1728), Van Mus-
schenbroek explains chemical action by attractive forces. If in a mate- 151
rial that is made up of substances A and B the particles of a third

substance C attract those of A more strongly, the C particles will oust
the B particles. Precipitation reactions as well as dissolving of metals
in acids have to be explained in this way. In addition, the shapes of
the particles play a role in these processes. The sharper the particles
of the acid in which a metal dissolves, the more easily these particles
will ‘cut’ the metal particles to pieces.36 These kind of speculative ideas
were held not only by the adherents of Newton, but also by those of
Descartes and Pierre Gassendi (1592–1655), for whom all phenomena
had to be explained strictly mechanically, that is, exclusively on the
basis of the shapes, sizes and arrangement of particles, and without
what they viewed as ‘occult’ things like forces. Boerhaave also gives
explanations that combine the action of forces with the shapes of the
particles of a dissolving fluid. The better the particles of the one sub-
stance fit into the pores of those of the other, the more easily the mix-
ture (solution) comes into being.
Both Van Musschenbroek’s and Boerhaave’s attitude is rather
ambiguous from an empiricist point of view. On the one hand they
warn against transgressing the bounds imposed by observation by
introducing unverifiable hypotheses, but on the other hand they easi-
ly speak of sharp acid particles and globular water particles, although
they certainly make no absolute statements about these shapes.
Because of the importance of gravitation the followers of Newton
initially paid more attention to attraction than to repulsion. Only in
Fig. 2:
Pyrometer,
an instrument
invented by Van
Musschenbroek to
measure the rate
of expansion of
metal rods with
the temperature.
(Museum Boerhaave,
Leiden, V09550)
152
the second half of the eighteenth century did repulsion and attraction
become equivalent principles (magnetism, electricity). Van Musschen-
broek discusses repulsion in his textbooks starting in 1748. In his Intro-
ductio he writes about the two forces:
The attractive force is thus active at a distance from the

bodies; its action is stronger in a smaller interval and weaker
in a larger interval, strongest when there is direct contact, but
its influence only extends over a short distance. [...] [W]here
the attractive force leaves off, a repulsive force begins.37
Heating, fermenting and putrefaction of materials can produce

vapours which, like air, consist of mutually repulsive particles. Fol-
lowing Newton and ’s Gravesande, Van Musschenbroek derives from
Boyle’s law that this repulsive force is inversely proportional to the
distance between the particles. He adds the comment that Boyle’s law
is not generally valid, as is shown by experiments. When a gas is com-
pressed very strongly the law no longer applies as the particles will in
the end touch one another.38
Optical phenomena like refraction, reflection and dispersion are

also explained by Van Musschenbroek, following Newton and ’s Grave-
sande, by attraction and repulsion. ’s Gravesande does not assume that
light is material, but he does see an analogy between the interaction of
particles and the interaction between matter and light. Refraction is,
according to Van Musschenbroek, the effect of attractive forces of the
body on which the light falls and is refracted. Reflection is caused by
repulsive forces acting outside the attractive sphere of the body. New-
ton himself explained the problem of why some light rays are refracted
while others are reflected with his celebrated ‘fits of easy transmis-
sion’ and ‘fits of easy reflexion’. Van Musschenbroek admitted he had
no answer to this question. Like ’s Gravesande he left Newton’s ‘fits’
untouched.39
Conclusion 153
Despite all the efforts he put into gaining new insights in the workings

of nature by his experiments, Van Musschenbroek (like ’s Gravesande)
became widely known mainly through his teaching and his textbooks.
To be sure, he also lives on as the inventor of the pyrometer and the
famous Leiden jar,40 but Van Musschenbroek’s contributions to the
development of physics were limited and were forgotten rather soon.
Time and again Van Musschenbroek propagated research according
to ‘Newtonian’ principles. However, his reluctance to make ‘prema-
ture’ generalizations resulted in a strong bias on observations, which
gave his studies a marked Baconian flavour.
Strictly Newtonian or not, Van Musschenbroek’s research revealing-
ly shows the limits of eighteenth-century empiricism. The seeming-
ly endless accumulation of observations did not lead to natural laws
concerning the behaviour of the weather or a force law for magnetism.
Interestingly, Van Musschenbroek himself realized and admitted his
failure in this respect. On the other hand, despite his professed aver-
sion to ‘hypotheses’, Van Musschenbroek engaged in speculative (and
fruitless) ideas about matter, forces and chemical reactions, which
were hardly founded upon empirical evidence or mathematical proofs
— the two pillars of Newton’s methodology. The self-proclaimed New-
tonian, Van Musschenbroek proved able only to a limited extent to
bring into practice the kind of science that he disseminated in such a
successful manner.
Notes
I would like to thank Bas Jongeling for correcting my English.
1 See the collection of devices designed and used by ’s Gravesande and Van
Musschenbroek in the Boerhaave Museum, Leiden.
2 An example is the French refugee, Jean-François de Boissy (1704–1754),
who in 1746 — four years after the death of ’s Gravesande — wrote to his
brother that he attended Van Musschenbroek’s physics lectures because
they were fun, while he followed other courses only because they were
obligatory. C.E. Engel, Jean-François de Boissy (1704–1754), un réfugié
français du XVIIIe siècle d’après sa correspondance (Neuchâtel 1941), pp.
52–53: ‘La physique sous M. Muschenbroek [sic], le premier homme du
monde pour les expériences. C’est le seul collège qui me faisse plaisir; aux
autres, je vais par devoir.’
3 P. van Musschenbroek, Epitome elementorum physico-mathematicorum,
154
conscripta in usus academicos (Leiden 1726), Praefatio.
4 P. de Clercq, At the sign of the oriental lamp: the Musschenbroek workshop
in Leiden, 1660–1750 (Rotterdam 1997), esp. 36–50, 73–102 and 134–149.

5 P. van Musschenbroek, Disputatio medica inauguralis de aëris praesen-
tia in humoribus animalibus, quam ... pro gradu doctoratus summisque in
medicina honoribus ... ad diem 12. novembris 1715 ... (Leiden 1715).
6 I. Newton, Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica (London 1687);
second edition (Cambridge 1713); pirated edition (Amsterdam 1714, 1723);
third edition (London 1726), translated by I.B. Cohen and A. Whitman
(eds), The Principia: mathematical principles of natural philosophy with ‘A
guide to Newton’s Principia’ by I.B. Cohen (Berkeley, Los Angeles 1999).
7 F.A. Meyer, ‘Petrus van Musschenbroek: werden und Werk und seine
Beziehungen zu Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit’, Duisburger Forschungen
(1961), pp. 1–51, on 3–9; W. Ring, Geschichte der Universität Duisburg (Duis-
burg 1920), p. 187; C. de Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761), een
Newtoniaans natuuronderzoeker (PhD-thesis, Utrecht 1979), pp. 26 and 99
(fig. 9).
8 P. van Musschenbroek, Oratio de certa methodo philosophiae experimenta-
lis (Utrecht 1723), pp. 22, 42; De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7), pp. 26–28.
9 A. Rupert Hall, ‘Further Newton correspondence’, Notes and records of the
Royal Society 37 (1982), pp. 7–34, on 32.
10 For an extensive bibliography, see: De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7), pp.
349–371.
11 Ibidem, pp. 80–81.
12 Van Musschenbroek, Oratio (note 8), p. 23; cf. De Pater, Musschenbroek
(note 7), pp. 57–121.
13 P. van Musschenbroek, Beginsels der natuurkunde, beschreeven ten dienste
der landgenooten (Leiden 1739), p. 105; cf. De Pater, Musschenbroek (note

7), pp. 57–121.
14 P. van Musschenbroek, Introductio ad philosophiam naturalem, 2 vols
(Leiden 1762), vol. 1, p. 391.
15 F. Bacon, Historia naturalis et experimentalis ad condendam philosophi-
am, sive, phaenomena universi: quae est Instaurationis Magnae pars ter-
tia (London 1622), in: J. Spedding (ed.), F. Bacon, Works, 14 vols (London
1857–1874; rept Stuttgart/Bad Cannstatt 1963), vol. 2, pp. 13–16.
16 On Van Musschenbroek and Dutch meteorology: H.J. Zuidervaart, ‘An
eighteenth-century medical-meteorological society in the Netherlands’,
The British journal for the history of science 38 (2005), pp. 379–410 and 39
(2006), pp. 49–66.
17 P. van Musschenbroek, Beginselen der natuurkunde, beschreven ten dien-
ste der landgenooten (Leiden 1736), Voorreden; Van Musschenbroek,
Beginsels (note 13), Voorreden.
18 Nic. de Condorcet [A. Condorcet O’Connor, F. Arago (eds)], Oeuvres, vol. 2 155
(Paris 1847), ‘Muschenbroek’ [sic], pp. 125–127, on 125–126.
19 P. van Musschenbroek, Dissertatio physica experimentalis de magnete

in: P. van Musschenbroek, Physicae experimentales, et geometricae, de
magnete, tuborum capillarium vitreorumque speculorum attractione,
magnitudine terrae, cohaerentia corporum firmorum dissertationes: ut et
ephemerides meteorologicae Ultrajectinae (Leiden 1729), pp. 1–270; second
edition (Wien 1754).
20 Cf. De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7), pp. 352, 360.
21 B. Taylor, ‘An account of an experiment ... in order to discover the law
of magnetical attraction’, Philosophical transactions 29, 1714–1716 (Lon-
don 1717; rept New York 1963), pp. 294–295; B. Taylor, ‘Extract of a letter
... giving an account of some experiments relating to magnetism’, Philo-
sophical transactions 31, 1720–1721 (London 1723; rept New York 1963),
pp. 204–208; F. Hauksbee, ‘An account of experiments, concerning the
proportion of the power of the load-stone at different distances’, Philo-
sophical transactions 27, 1710–1712 (London 1712; rept New York 1963), pp.
506–511; Newton, Principia (note 6), bk. 3, prop. 6, theor. 6, cor. 5, in ed.
Cohen and Whitman, p. 810.
22 For the paragraphs on magnetism, see: De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7),
pp. 122–226.
23 P. van Musschenbroek, De magnete, Leiden University Library, Western
manuscripts, BPL 240, nr. 42, fol. 69r (my translation).
24 C. Hansteen, Untersuchungen über den Magnetismus der Erde, 2 vol.
(Christiania [Oslo] 1819), vol1, pp. 279–281; cf. G. Crystal, ‘Magnetism’, in:
The Encyclopedia Britannica, 9th ed., vol. 15 (Edinburgh 1883), pp. 219–
276, on 234a.
25 C.A. Coulomb, ‘Second mémoire sur l’électricité et le magnétisme, où l’on
détermine, suivant quelles loix le fluide magnétique, ainsi que le fluide

électrique, agissent, soit par répulsion, soit par attraction’, Mémoires de
mathématique et de physique de l’Académie des Sciences 1785 (Paris 1788),
pp. 578–611; Hansteen, Untersuchungen (note 23), pp. 303–310.
26 Van Musschenbroek, Epitome (note 3), Praefatio; Van Musschenbroek,
Beginsels (note 13), Voorreden and pp. 12 and 104–105; Van Musschen-
broek, Introductio (note 13), vol. 1, pp. 92 and 108; P. van Musschenbroek,
Oratio de methodo instituendi experimenta physica, in: P. van Musschen-
broek, Tentamina experimentorum naturalium captorum in Academia del
Cimento sub auspiciis ... Leopoldi Magni Etruriae Ducis ... ex Italico ... con-
versa (Leiden 1731), pp. i-xlviii, on xxxiv; De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7),
pp. 76–80.
27 G.J. ’s Gravesande, Physices elementa mathematica, experimentis confir-
mata. Sive Introductio ad philosophiam Newtonianam, 3rd ed., 2 vols (Lei-
den 1742),vol1, pp. iii and x.
156
28 I. Newton, Opticks: or a treatise of the reflections, refractions, inflections
and colours of light (London 1704, 4th ed. 1731); reprint 4th edition with
‘Preface’ by I.B. Cohen, ‘Foreword’ by A. Einstein, ‘Introduction’ by E.T.
Whittaker, ‘Analytical table of contents’ by D.H.D. Roller (New York 1931,

1952), Query 31, pp. 400; J. Keill, Introductio ad veram physicam (Oxford
1701), quotations from J. Keill, Introductiones ad veram physicam et veram
astronomiam (Leiden 1725), p. 26, 32–33 and 39; ’s Gravesande, Physices
(note 26), p. 7; de Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7), pp. 85–88.
29 Newton, Opticks (note 27), pp. 268–269 (book 2, prop. 8); Van Musschen-
broek, Beginsels (note 13), p. 44; Van Musschenbroek, Introductio (note
13), vol. 1, p. 35 and 41–42; De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7), p. 87.
30 Newton, Principia (note 6), Preface, in ed. Cohen and Whitman, pp. 382–
383.
31 Ibidem, book 2, prop. 21–23, in ed. Cohen and Whitman, pp. 692–699.
32 Cf. Van Musschenbroek, Physicae experimentales (note 18); see also Van
Musschenbroek, Tentamina (note 25), pars 2, pp. 12–57 (‘Addidamentum’
about the pyrometer).
33 Newton, Principia (note 6), book 1, section 13, prop. lxxxv-lxxxvi, in ed.
Cohen and Whitman, pp. 382–383; Newton, Opticks (note 27), Query 31,
pp. 388–389, 395; ’s Gravesande, Physices (note 26), vol. 1, p. 18; Keill, Intro-
ductio (note 27), pp. 88–89; Van Musschenbroek, Beginsels (note 13), pp.
280–283; Van Musschenbroek, Introductio (note 14), vol. 1, pp. 348–353.
34 P. van Musschenbroek, Introductio ad cohaerrentiam corporum firmorum,
in: Van Musschenbroek, Physicae experimentales (note 19), pp. 421–462.
35 Van Musschenbroek, Physicae experimentales (note 18), pp. 431 and
658–660; Van Musschenbroek, Introductio (note 13), vol. 1, pp. 390–476;
J.H. Roetink, Verhandeling over Pieter van Musschenbroeks onderzoek naar
de sterkte van materialen (TU Delft 1975, unpublished ‘doctoraalscriptie’).
36 J. Keill Introductio (note 27), pp. 623–636; J. Freind, Praelectiones chymi-

cae (London 1709), in: J. Freind, Opera omnia, 3 vols (Leiden 1734), vol. 1,
Dedicatio and pp. 3–5, 42–46 and 85–89; Boerhaave, Sermo, pp. 39–40;
E. Kegel-Brinkgreve and A.M. Luyendijk-Elshout (eds), Boerhaave’s ora-
tions (Leiden 1983), p. 212; H. Boerhaave, Elementa chemiae, 2 vols (Lei-
den 1732), vol. 1, pp. 683–684 and 688–689, 847–848; Van Musschenbroek,
Introductio (note 13), vol. 1, p. 379; Van Musschenbroek, Beginsels (note
12), p. 346.
37 P. van Musschenbroek, Institutiones physicae conscriptae in usus academi-
cos (Leiden 1748), pp. 259–260; Van Musschenbroek, Introductio (note 14),
pp. 351–252.
38 ’s Gravesande, Physices (note 26), vol. 2, pp. 583–584; Van Musschen-
broek, Introductio (note 14), vol. 1, p. 387; vol. 2, p. 862; Van Musschen-
broek, Beginsels (note 14), pp. 690–691.
39 ’s Gravesande, Physices (note 26), vol. 2, pp. 583–584; Van Musschen-
broek, Introductio (note 14), vol. 1, p. 387; vol. 2, p. 862; Van Musschen- 157
broek, Beginsels (note 13), pp. 690–691.
40 For the ‘pyrometer’, see note 32; De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 7), pp.

33–40 (pyrometer), pp. 40–44 (Leiden jar).
Low Country Opticks

The optical pursuits of Lambert ten Kate and
Daniel Fahrenheit in early Dutch ‘Newtonianism’
FOKKO JAN DIJKSTERHUIS
With the publication of the second edition of the Principia (1713), a 159
wave of Newtonophilia washed over the Low Countries. Within a dec-
LOW COU NT RY OP T IC KS
ade Dutch Newtonianism had been codified in the works of ’s Gra-
vesande, Van Musschenbroek and Boerhaave. Newton’s Opticks was
also part of this codification. After the revised English edition of 1717,
the first French translation was published in Amsterdam in 1720.
Opticks had a different position and was read in a different way than
Principia. This article discusses the early reception of Newton’s optics
in the Low Countries, focusing on the cases of Lambert ten Kate
(1674–1731) and Daniel Fahrenheit (1686–1736). The polymath Ten Kate
was a key figure in the pious circle that first brought Newton to the
Dutch scene and a prominent writer on physico-theological themes.
The Gdansk instrument maker Fahrenheit was welcomed in this circle
of Newtonians and pioneered in the public teaching of experimental
philosophy.
Ten Kate and Fahrenheit were particularly interested in optics and
given the context one would expect that Newton’s optics played a deci-
sive role in their pursuits. However, their reading of the Opticks turns
out to have been rather liberal. They picked out the things that were
relevant to their interests, they often did not get the gist of Newton’s
accounts, and they largely ignored the central claims of the Opticks.
From the viewpoint of the Opticks this would indicate some deficien-
cy in their understanding of Newton, but from the perspective of its
readers it needs not. The main question then is not how well men like
Ten Kate and Fahrenheit read and understood the Opticks, but how
they approached it from the context of their intellectual and cultural

interests.
The label ‘Newtonian’ is customarily used for the experimental phi-
losophy that developed in the Low Countries around 1720 in the circle
of ’s Gravesande, Van Musschenbroek and Boerhaave. Histographi-
cally such a label is fraught with difficulties. By following the rather
catholic way in which Ten Kate and Fahrenheit read and used Newton,
I will try and reassess the idea of ‘Newtonianism’ and of ‘isms’ in the
history of science in general. A body of ideas like that of Newton can
be read on various levels and from various perspectives, depending on
the particular interests and agendas of the reader. Even in the case of
one and the same person — viz. Ten Kate — the way Newton was taken
up could vary from role model in natural philosophy to a sounding
board in phenomenal inquiry. Drawing on the lessons from the cas-
160 es of Ten Kate and Fahrenheit, at the end of this article I will discuss
some problems inherent to the idea of ‘Newtonianism’.
An experiment from the Opticks

Lambert ten Kate came from a wealthy family of Amsterdam mer-
chants in the Baltic trade. Originally he participated in his family’s
trading company but around 1705 he left business and devoted his
time to his intellectual interests. These were vast. He was a prom-
inent connoisseur and collector in the arts and sciences and wrote
on a wide range of topics: aesthetics, linguistics, philosophy, theolo-
gy.1 Decisive for his epistemic and aesthetic outlook was his particular
cultural background. He belonged to the liberal Mennonite congrega-
tion in Amsterdam, to which many of the early Dutch Newtonians also
had close links.2
On 29 October 1716 Ten Kate carried out an optical experiment fol-
lowing an experiment described in Newton’s Opticks. He was accom-
panied by his nephew, Jan Willink. The report of the experiment was
published forty years later in the Transactions of the Holland Society
of Sciences, by Johannes Nettis (1707–1777) who had been a student
at the Mennonite seminary in Amsterdam.3 The title of the article
ran: ‘Experiment of the Separation of Colours, Found by a Prism in
the Order of the Musical Tones, Following an Experiment in Newton’s
Opticks: At the Time Observed and Now Reported from the Inher-
itance of Lambert ten Kate Harmenszoon’.4
The article began with a reference to the third proposition of book
1, part 2 of Opticks.5 In this proposition, substantiated by two experi-

ments, Newton divided the spectrum on the basis of the division of
tones in the octave, arriving at seven symmetrically ordered colours.6
Newton had already introduced the harmonic division of the spec-
trum in his optical lectures in 1670 and in a paper read to the Royal
Society in 1675.7 In the Opticks he had used it to account for the vexing
problem of ascertaining the regularity of the dispersion of colours for
which he had not been able to find an alternative solution.8 Ten Kate
explained that the specific division of the octave Newton used was
less than optimal — making twelve out of sixteen consonants false. He
proposed an alternative division that had only six false consonants.
Although Ten Kate ordinarily used the diatonic scale, in this case he
used the ancient Dorian mode that Newton had used.9 According to
him the eye could not see the difference between his and Newton’s
division. Given the greater perfection of his alternative division of the 161
octave, Ten Kate held it for the most real as ‘the more the Works of
Nature are known, the more perfect they are found’.10
This was not all, however: Ten Kate had found a new and better way
of investigating the colours of the spectrum. A prism produced only
one ‘rainbow of colours’ and thus only one octave. In contrast, Ten
Kate’s new method could produce up to five separate spectrums at
once, displaying the colours in a clear and orderly manner. The meth-
od only required a bowl of rich suds and a wine glass: dip the glass in
the bowl, hold it on its side and study the thin film of soap. Coloured
spectrums appear from the top, starting to come down gradually, and
disappearing at the bottom. These can be studied conveniently. Ten
Kate continued by asking how this phenomenon may be understood.
After all, prismatic colours only appear upon refraction but ‘here now
however [the colour making of the rainbow] is displayed by this film
reflecting, so wonderful, clear, and in its supreme degree, rainbow
after rainbow, octave after octave: of which the solution is utmost
peculiar’.11
Ten Kate knew the solution: when the glass is held on its side, the
particles of the film begin to come down because of their weight; thus
the upper part of the film becomes thinner and the lower part thicker,
‘from which a most noble prism-shaped film is born’.12 Because of the
glueyness of the suds this takes some time. Therefore, the colours only
gradually appear. The colours are produced by consecutive refraction,
reflection and refraction of the rays of light at the front and the back
162
Fig. 1: Ten Kate’s experiment on the separation of colours.
of the film. Ten Kate concluded by confirming that the colours are
observed according to the harmonic order that he had introduced.
Ten Kate’s account of the appearance of colours is interesting in
the light of Newton’s Opticks. According to him, the film of soap really
produced ‘rainbows of colours’: the colours are produced in the same
way as in drops of rain. In addition, he emphasized the shape of the
film, arguing that it gradually acquired a prismatic cross-section. In
this way he made clear that the spectrums in the soap film are truly
prismatic colours. Newton, however, explained that the production of
colours in thin films is different from that in prisms (or rain drops). In
thin films some action of the rays affects the passage of rays of par-
ticular colours. This interference depends upon the length of the path
of a ray through the film with respect to the position of the observer.
In book 2 of the Opticks he had elaborately discussed the properties
of the colours of thin films and showed the periodicity of the colours.
Besides a quantitative phenomenological account, he also put for-
ward a causal account in which the interaction between the ray and
the surface of the medium produces ‘fits of easy reflection and refrac-
tion’ that enable or prohibit the passage of the ray at the other surface.
Newton’s theory of fits is notoriously obscure and was largely ignored
by readers of the Opticks, so it is not a surprise that Ten Kate did not
discuss it.13 However, he took little notice of Newton’s account of thin
films altogether and apparently ignored the fundamental difference
with prismatic colours.
The report of Ten Kate’s experiment raises all kinds of questions.
What inspired him to perform it? Why at this moment? Why did he
want to correct Newton? How did he think his experiment added
to Newton’s doctrines? In order to make sense of the way Ten Kate
responded to the Opticks we have to broaden our view a bit and see 163
how Newton’s optics was taken up in the circles around Ten Kate.
This will also create an opportunity to discuss the reception of the
Opticks more generally. In the history of early Dutch Newtonianism,
the Opticks tends to have a secondary position in comparison to the
Principia.
The Opticks in the Netherlands

Because Ten Kate gave a page number in his reference to the Opticks,
it is clear that he referred to the 1706 Latin edition.14 Whether he read
Optice soon after its publication remains to be seen. In the summer of
1707 he began an extensive study of colour mixing together with his
close acquaintance, the The Hague painter Hendrik van Limborch
(1681–1759). Also involved in the research project was the painter and
engraver Jacob Christoph Le Blon (1667–1741), who was working on
what was to become the first method of colour printing.15 The project
lasted until 1713 and contained some inventive and original experi-
mentation and conceptualization of colours and their properties.16
Notably, no direct reference to Newton’s optics was made in the course
of the inquiry, not even to his doctrine of the heterogeneity of white
light. The closest reference is in a letter of 3 February 1710, when Ten
Kate mentioned ‘mathematical experiments of the prism’ to explain
that blue is the weakest colour. Although the wording and the drift of
the argument may suggest a reference to Newton, prism experiments
as such were not exclusive to the Opticks and its author. Likewise, dur-
ing the project no mention was made of Newton’s account of colour

mixing in the two propositions of Opticks following the harmonic divi-
sion of the spectrum (to which Ten Kate responded with his ‘proef-
ondervinding’).17 After Newton had proven how white light and shades
of grey can be compounded of colours, he explained how the colours
of paints are produced — by selective reflection — and how mixtures
of paint produce compounded colours. Then he proposed a circle
diagram to determine the position of a compound colour in the spec-
trum, based on the relative proportions of primary colours.18 Despite
Ten Kate’s evident interest in optical themes directly related to the
Opticks around 1710, he kept virtually silent on Newton at this time.
Ten Kate must have been, however, well aware of the existence and
the content of the Opticks upon publication. His close acquaintance
and early promotor of Newton, Jean Le Clerc (1657–1736) had favoura-
164 bly reviewed the Opticks in 1706. Le Clerc was professor at the Amster-
dam Remonstrant College and published a learned journal discussing
the latest developments in the Republic of Letters. The journal went

through three series between the 1690s and the 1720s, Bibliothèque uni-
verselle et historique, Bibliothèque choisie and Bibliothèque ancienne et
moderne. In the ninth issue of Bibliothèque choisie, Le Clerc presented
the Opticks with a translation of large parts that ran over sixty pages.19
He lauded Newton’s experiments and discoveries, giving a faithful rep-
resentation of the prism experiments and the doctrines of different
refrangibility and the heterogeneity of white light. Equally interesting,
however, is what Le Clerc left out. He skipped the mathematical and
technical parts, referring his readers to the original. Newton’s account
of colours in thin films that comprised parts 1 and 2 of book 2 of the
Opticks got only one paragraph in the review.
Le Clerc quickly moved on to the account of the colours of bodies
that made up the rest of book 2. Propositions three to six, that con-
tained Newton’s harmonic division of the spectrum and his colour cir-
cle, he only mentioned without explaining the content. The whole idea
of the colour circle thus did not become clear.20 This predilection for
Newton’s doctrine of colours of bodies and disregard of his account
of colours in thin films can also be seen with later Dutch Newtoni-
ans. ’s Gravesande would do exactly the same in his Physices elementa
(1720) and even integrated the doctrine of different refrangibility in
the theory of colours of bodies.21 In his review, Le Clerc discussed the
queries at the end of the Opticks at some length and concluded with
an exposition of what he regarded as Newton’s exemplary method.

Already at this point in 1706 the contours of the philosophical pro-
gram of Dutch Newtonianism became visible.22 Le Clerc stressed New-
ton’s empirical bent and (thus) the purity of his philosophy as against
Descartes’, even at the level of the queries that Newton himself had
presented as tentative speculations on the nature of things.
It is not clear when Ten Kate first went into the Opticks and neither
can Le Blon’s statement be substantiated that Ten Kate learned Eng-
lish with the purpose of reading the Opticks.23 It might well be the case
that Ten Kate only turned to the Opticks/Optice around 1716, ten years
after its publication. In other words: on the wave of Newtonophilia
that washed over the Dutch Republic from 1715. Part of the swelling
Newtonianism was a publication of Ten Kate himself: De Schepper en
zyn bestier (The Creator and His Rule, 1716). This physico-theological
tract was a rendition of the Philosophical Principles of Religion (1715) by 165
George Cheyne (1671–1743), an exposition of Newtonian natural phi-
losophy. Ten Kate’s edition was based on a summary by Le Clerc, to
which he added extensive footnotes on mathematical issues, drawing
on Principia and other mathematical works.24 Although Cheyne had
drawn substantially on the Opticks, Ten Kate’s edition paid little atten-
tion to optics. He discussed the nature of light only with regard to the
speed of light — and only by giving a reasoned value.25 As regards col-
ours he mentioned different refrangibility, listing seven original col-
ours and suggesting the particle nature of light.26
Harmony in the senses

When in 1716 Ten Kate finally went into the subject matter of the
Opticks seriously, he did not do so to preach the gospel of its master.
On the contrary, his report was nothing more than a correction to
Newton: first of the division of the spectrum, then of the experimen-
tal production of spectral colours. Ten Kate was not inexperienced in
these matters. Far from that: in the preceding decades he had made
profound study of both harmonics and colours. A manuscript from
1699 contains a study of the nature and production of sounds, in par-
ticular in human speech. Parts of this would be included in Ten Kate’s
Aenleiding tot de kennisse van het verhevene deel der Nederduitsche
sprake, the groundbreaking study of linguistics he published in 1723. In
this he also developed an account of musical harmony, thus providing
the basis of his confident rebuttal of Newton. Then, in the late 1700s, he
undertook the inquiry into colour mixing that was mentioned above.
Ten Kate tried to develop a mathematical theory for the intensities
of colours and developed a good deal of knowledge of the nature and
proportionality of colours. So, he was no novice when critically assess-
ing Newton’s division of the spectrum. In this regard it is not surpris-
ing that he did not even mention the central claim of the Opticks about
the heterogeneity of white light. It was not interesting for Ten Kate
and besides, the idea that colours were not a modification of white
light (and shadows) was not that new for artists and connoisseurs.27 It
was mainly interesting in the context of natural philosophy. In Color-
itto, Le Blon in 1725 explicitly referred to Newton when he emphasized
the difference with their accounts of colours: whereas he discussed
material colours as they were used by painters, the Opticks concerned
the ‘impalpable’ colours that mix into white.28
166 As it turns out, proposition 3 in book 1, part 2, of Opticks seized upon
the very core of Ten Kate’s interests. From a modern point of view
these interests were quite disparate: linguistics, art theory, physico-

theology, to name a few. As a result, the assessment of Ten Kate’s con-
tribution has been rather fragmented in historiography with histori-
ans of linguistics, art, science, philosophy each cutting out the relevant
parts of his story. Only one or two have asked whether some kind of
inner coherence in Ten Kate’s work can be found.29 Ten Kate was
searching for harmony, in terms of regularity, beauty and piety. This
was not, however, the classical Pythagorean harmony and its Renais-
sance renewal. First of all, Ten Kate combined the study of the classics
with empirical and mathematical investigations of spoken languages,
statues and drawings, and light and colours. Secondly, harmony for
Ten Kate was not so much in the world — in Nature — as in the sens-
es, in our perception of the world. This conviction was rooted in his
aesthetical ideas that stressed the way in which art evoked religious
experience.30 This phenomenological conception of knowledge and
emotive aesthetics was rooted in Ten Kate’s liberal Mennonite milieu
in which devotion was sought in the ordinary.31
Ten Kate’s search for harmony and his particular epistemic outlook
found expression in a broad spectrum of inquiries, starting in 1699
with a study of phonetics.32 In the colour-mixing project with Hendrik
van Limborch, it gave rise to a series of investigations of light and col-
ours that is quite remarkable in the history of optics. They determined
the relative clarity of colours by comparing gradations of colours with
painted patterns of coloured and white/black lines, that from a dis-

tance are perceived as uniform colours. The number of lines then gave
a measure of the power of a colour. This experimental set up was quite
original and draws attention to a perceptual approach in optics that
is largely ignored by historians of early modern optics.33 Against this
background of a particular research agenda and specific experiences
in optics, Ten Kate responded to the Opticks in 1716. That is, he picked
out a specific claim of Newton that he juxtaposed to his own convic-
tions and experiences. A similar purposive reading of the Opticks is
found in the work of the second protagonist of this story.
Fahrenheit
Not long after his experiment on the separation of colours, Ten
Kate introduced a newcomer to the circle of Amsterdam amateurs:
Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit. Fahrenheit has acquired fame as a mak- 167
er of instruments, thermometers in particular, and as a lecturer on
experimental philosophy. In a letter to Le Clerc, Ten Kate wrote: ‘there
is here in Amsterdam a man named Fahrenheit who makes all kinds
of barometers, thermometers, with far greater precision, for the use
of physicists’.34 Le Clerc published the letter in the issue of his Biblio-
thèque of that year, thus advertising the qualities of Fahrenheit and his
instruments to a broader audience. The letter described in detail the
instruments and the methods Fahrenheit used to assure their accura-
cy and reliability.
The emphasis of Ten Kate’s letter was on an exotic phenome-
non sometimes observed in the containers of vacuum pumps and
barometers: a luminescence also called barometric light. In the ear-
ly eighteenth century this phenomenon had become well known and
was studied by savants all over Europe.35 Barometric light was first
observed by Jean Picard (1620–1682) in 1675: when mercury in a glass
tube is shaken a band of light appears on the glass at the meniscus
of the mercury.36 The phenomenon requires very clean glass and very
pure mercury and was difficult to reproduce until Johann Bernoulli
(1667–1748) in Groningen invented an instrument to control it, Ten
Kate explained.37 Fahrenheit also made instruments called ‘ethereal
phosphors’ and had improved the design. Ten Kate’s account served
on the one hand to demonstrate the high quality of Fahrenheit’s
instruments. On the other hand, Ten Kate appealed to the learned-
ness and interests of Le Clerc, pointing out that the editor of the Bib-
liothèque was familiar with the phenomenon and its history. Ten Kate
concluded his letter by pointing out other instances of phosphores-
cence and the importance to find an explanation of the phenomenon.
The emphasis on barometric glow did not only appeal to Le Clerc but
also reflected the particular interests of Fahrenheit in chemical issues
in natural inquiry.
Fahrenheit had recently arrived in Amsterdam, probably during
the second half of 1717, but he was familiar with the city. Having been
raised and orphaned in Gdansk, he had been brought to Amsterdam
in 1702 to become an apprentice in the Van Beuningen house of mer-
chants in the Baltic trade. As Ten Kate had also been a partner in a
merchant house that traded with Gdansk and other Baltic towns, it
is possible that he and Fahrenheit had made their acquaintance in
those days. In 1707 Fahrenheit left business to pursue his interest in
168 natural philosophy and embarked on a ten-year journey through the
Scandinavian, Baltic and German lands. During this journey he visited
Ole Rømer (1644–1710) in Copenhagen — who had developed a mer-

cury thermometer — Gottfried Leibniz (1646–1716) in Hanover and
Christian Wolff (1679–1754) in Halle. In 1717 he returned to Amster-
dam, probably because the prospects for patronage in Germany had
vanished. He established himself as an instrument maker and soon
started to give lectures to paying attendants, which he would continue
until his death.38 These lectures are quite instructive as regards the
way Newton’s Opticks was presented to the circle of early Newtonians.
Fahrenheit’s lectures are quite well documented in a prospectus
from 1721 and a collection of lecture notes.39 The lectures consisted
of two series on Wednesdays, one of fifteen meetings on hydrostat-
ics from 3:00 to 5:00 in the afternoon, and one of sixteen meetings on
optics from 5:30 to 7:30 in the evening. They were announced with the
following words: ‘The method to demonstrate natural sciences that
are attached to mathematics by means of “experimenta” or tests is
undeniably the best’.40 Fahrenheit said he used ‘the best French and
Latin writers’ and for hydrostatics he particularly named Boyle’s Para-
doxa and ’s Gravesande’s Physices. He did not mention Newton at this
point. The series of lectures on optics started with a general exposition
of the nature and properties of light and its rays, quickly moving on
to refraction and lenses. Dioptrics and the design of refractors com-
prised nine lectures, followed by five lectures on catoptrics. It is clear
that Fahrenheit’s principal interest in optics concerned instruments.
The lecture notes start with four unnumbered folios headed ‘Intro-
duction’ that appear to have been inserted separately, considering the
size of the leaves and the style of writing. This introduction described
some experiments with coloured fluids, including observations
through a prism, and the ‘ethereal phosphors’.41 The actual lectures on
hydrostatics and optics are on numbered pages and the latter starts
with an exposition on the nature of light in which the ‘ethereal phos-
phors’ return again. Fahrenheit took a non-committal stance regard-
ing discussions about the nature of light, although in the course of his
lectures he expressed sympathy for Descartes several times. His main
goal, however, was to explain the properties of light and his princi-
pal interest was the design of instruments and chemical phenomena.
He offered an experimental discourse in which propositions (like the
law of refraction) were proven by experiments. Fahrenheit was par-
ticularly interested in the colours of bodies and the way these could 169
be investigated by prisms. In this regard, he referred approvingly to
Newton. He stressed the specialist nature of the Opticks, explaining
that it demanded a considerable knowledge of optics.42 He explicitly
left out mathematical analyses, referring his audience to the dioptrics
of Nicolaas Hartsoeker (1656–1725). This is interesting because Hart-
soeker was professedly anti-Newton and had written a critical letter
in response to Le Clerc’s lauding review of Cheyne.43 Colours in soap
films are mentioned as well, with a brief explanation of the effect, but
the account is too brief to establish a link with Ten Kate.44
Fahrenheit discussed all kinds of optical instruments, practical as
well as entertaining. In the last lecture on catoptrics, he discussed
instruments with mirrors. Here Newton finally got centre stage. Fahr-
enheit first explained how a refracting telescope could be shortened
by use of plane mirrors, before coming to Newton’s invention of a tele-
scope with a concave mirror objective. In his view the main advantage
of Newton’s reflector was the shortening of telescopes. In the course of
the seventeenth century, refracting telescopes had gradually become
too long to handle, reaching lengths of ten metres and more. Fahr-
enheit did not mention chromatic aberration, which had been New-
ton’s principal goal of designing the instrument. He was well aware of
chromatic aberration, having explained that the reddish appearance
of telescope images was caused by the shorter focal distance for blue
rays. In an earlier lecture he had discussed chromatic aberration in
greater detail. In a rather lengthy exposition on refracting telescopes,
Fig. 2: Fahrenheit’s sketch of a Newton reflector. (Source: Leiden University

Library, BPL 772, fol. 51v)
he had explained that Newton in his Opticks had proven with accurate
experiments that colours are differently refrangible and argued that
this was the reason of the poor performance of telescopes. However,
Fahrenheit surprisingly added, Newton only aimed at Galilean tele-
scopes (consisting of a convex objective and a concave ocular), thus
implying that the effect was less relevant in the Keplerian telescopes
170 (consisting of convex objectives and oculars) that were common in
astronomy.45
Fahrenheit closed the lecture by discussing a reflecting telescope

and microscope of his own design. According to the notes he had said
the following:
After I had read Newton’s Opticks about nine years ago, the
composition of the preceding telescope pleased me so much
that I looked for an opportunity to make one mechanically.
And as Newton complains about the metal as well as the
glass, I chose about six years ago a hardened steel for the
objective mirror of six-inch focal distance, Rhineland meas-
ure. And as it seemed to me to be a bit awkward in use to
look into the mirror from the side, I made a round hole in the
middle of the mirror and furthermore I placed a small convex
mirror on such a distance from the objective mirror, so that
the rays of objects that were reflected by the large mirror
bounced off for a second time to the hole in the large mirror,
where the rays were thus gathered into an image.46
There is no diagram to this description, but it is clear how Fahren-

heit had taken up the Opticks. Not as a foundational exposition on
the nature and properties of light and colours and not as a primer
on the design of optical instruments, but as a challenge to his instru-
ment-making skills. Reading about Newton’s reflector, he immediately
considered ways of improving the material properties of mirrors and

configuring mirrors and lenses to make telescopes more convenient
to use.
The challenge had presented itself a couple of years earlier, most
probably when Fahrenheit was staying in the German countries. If the
lectures took place from 1721 on, his statement that he worked on mir-
rors six years prior accords pretty well with a letter he wrote to Leib-
niz on 1 July 1716 in which he said he had just built his first reflector.47
This would imply that he first read the Opticks around 1713. Probably it
was not before 1714, after he had arrived in the German countries from
Copenhagen. His biographers suggest that Fahrenheit did not start to
work on mirrors prior to his stay in Berlin, Halle, Leipzig and Dres-
den from 1714–1716.48 Fahrenheit had gone to these German towns to
improve his skills in glass-working for the purpose of making ther-
mometers. His plan paid off, for he became one of the best blowers of 171
capillary tubes.
Circumstantial evidence may shed some more light on the develop-
ment of Fahrenheit’s interests and his involvement in mirrors in par-
ticular. From the 1690s Ehrenfried Walter von Tschirnhaus (1651–1708),
a nobleman in the patronage of the Saxon Elector, had made substan-
tial efforts to improve and modernize the Saxon glass industries.49
Besides promoting the economic interests of Saxony, Tschirnhaus
was particularly interested in developing technologies for making
high-quality burning mirrors. Burning mirrors had been central to
his interests since his extended sojourns in the savant circles of the
Dutch Republic, Paris and London between 1668 and 1682.50 He had
experimented with mirrors, considered the physics of light, and devel-
oped the mathematical theory of caustics, on which he corresponded
extensively with men like Christiaan Huygens and Gottfried Leibniz.
After the death of Tschirnhaus his mirrors remained in the Dresden
Kunstkammer and the optical manufacturing techniques were fur-
ther developed in the Saxon glass huts.51 We may surmise that Fahren-
heit encountered this legacy on his visit to Dresden. A direct link does
not exist, but there are several indirect links between Fahrenheit and
Tschirnhaus such as the latter’s Dutch network and of course Leibniz.
Such circumstantial evidence suggests that Fahrenheit’s interest and
expertise in reflectors was spawned by Saxon mirror-work.
These speculations aside — but I do feign hypotheses — the biogra-
phy of Fahrenheit offers an important lesson regarding the influence
of Newton. The formative years of Fahrenheit’s experimental method

and his instrumental proficiency took place in the vicinity of men like
Rømer, Leibniz and Wolff. Skilled and learned, he arrived in Amster-
dam in 1717, finding a natural place among the Amsterdam ‘Newtoni-
ans’. In this development, Newton’s Opticks was a source of inspiration,
but not at all the cornerstone of Fahrenheit’s optical pursuits. Some of
it was relevant to him, but the natural philosophy hardly interested
him. The same goes for Ten Kate; he too read the Opticks from his own
particular points of view. They were well-versed in optics and picked
out the parts that were relevant to their interests — the harmony of
colours, the perfection of instruments. What does this all mean for
Ten Kate’s and Fahrenheit’s alleged ‘Newtonianism’?
Not all roads lead from London

172 The optical pursuits of Ten Kate and Fahrenheit can easily be read as
examples of deficient reading of the Opticks, containing many misun-
derstanding, ignoring the gist of Newton’s argument, and so on. This

would imply that something like Newtonian optics existed and that it
was a principal point of reference for the early Dutch Newtonians. The
cases of Ten Kate and Fahrenheit raise some fundamental difficulties
with such an interpretation. Theirs are not stories of the reception of
some coherent body of knowledge, but of purposeful appropriation of
particular elements within a broader spectrum of ideas and practices.
The cases of Ten Kate and Fahrenheit bear upon the early stages of
so-called Dutch Newtonianism and have, I believe, historiographical
implications for the very idea of ‘Newtonianism’. In the historiography
of eighteenth-century science terms like ‘Newtonian’ and ‘Newtoni-
anism’ are rather common and often used in an uncritical way. Ten
Kate’s linguistics is generally characterized as ‘Newtonian’, as are the
pursuits of many Dutch savants of the period. In my view, however,
the use of such a designation is not enlightening and often misleading
in terms of historical understanding. In the final part of this article I
want to seize the opportunity and discuss some problematic aspects
of the idea ‘Newtonianism’.52
Until quite recently the term ‘Newtonianism’ was used in a wide
range of meanings, ranging from a physical theory, to a methodol-
ogy and a philosophical system.53 The free use of the label suggests
some coherent system of knowledge. In early modern conceptions this
would be a system of natural philosophy, comprising ontology, episte-
mology, cosmology and metaphysics.54 In many cases, however, such

systems have been narrowed down to physical theories and method-
ological positions, neglecting the broad scope of natural philosophy
in both philosophy and subject matter.55 Efforts have been made to
precisely define such a system, resulting in a collection of brands of
‘Newtonianism’.56 Apart from the question to what extent it is histo-
riographically legitimate to characterize ‘Newtonianisms’ in terms
of physical theories, such exercises leave open the question to what
extent a ‘Newtonianism’ has agency.57 First of all, no ‘school’ of nat-
ural philosophy came into being before the late eighteenth century.
Second, a system of natural philosophy rarely if ever was a main point
of reference for natural inquirers. Ten Kate and Fahrenheit provide
cases in point. They adopted elements of Newton’s teachings — a phys-
ical explanation, an experimental find, an inventive artefact, a meta-
physical idea — but were largely indifferent to his system of natural 173
philosophy as a whole. Not all praise for or critique of Newton should
be understood on the level of natural philosophical systems. Often
inquirers had a different agenda that concerned specific empirical,
mathematical or technical issues.58 ‘Newtonianism’ does not seem a
very fruitful category for doing history of science.59
A second problem in the use of ‘Newtonianism’ is the tendency to
focus exclusively on Newton when interpreting early-eighteenth-cen-
tury science, neglecting other big names like Boyle, Leibniz and Wolff.
However, Newton was not the prime mover of eighteenth-century
experimental philosophy. The Republic of Letters offered a broad spec-
trum of ideas, convictions, examples and things to the natural inquirer
who created assemblages fitted to his needs. Schofield has argued that
the spectrum of references was much broader for the Dutch, and that
Newton was relatively secondary for the Swiss and French. In his tax-
onomy he effectively deconstructs the ‘Newtonian’ nature of most of
the Newtonian brands.60 The experimental philosophy that is labelled
‘Newtonian’ had been taking shape well before Newton entered the
scene. Wiesenfeldt has shown how at Leiden University an experimen-
tal physics was established in the 1670s, primarily in response to the
ongoing debates about the status of philosophy.61 His discussion of De
Volder shows that later ‘Cartesianism’ was quite empirical, which is
confirmed by ‘post-Cartesians’ like Rohault.62 Likewise, at Halle Wolff
continued a tradition of experimental teaching that had begun by
Johann Christoph Sturm (1635–1703) at the University of Altdorf. Not
coincidentally, Halle was one of Fahrenheit’s stopovers in the German

states. Taking contexts like these will seriously yield a much richer his-
torical picture.
The term ‘Newtonianism’ is often used in terms of reception of
Newton’s doctrines, suggesting a one-way traffic from a given set of
doctrines to an attentive audience. Closer inspection of early Dutch
‘Newtonianism’ makes clear that the process was far from unidirec-
tional. It was largely a joint venture of Desaguliers and ’s Gravesande
in their to-and-fro between England and the Dutch Republic, linking
receptive circles in both places. The second edition of the Principia
was pivotal, but it was also a creative appropriation of Newton’s orig-
inal mechanics, including the ‘Newtonianization’ of Newton himself
by his English circle of devotees. Rienk Vermij has shown in a bril-
liant article how a particular group of pious but freethinking Amster-
174 dam amateurs adopted Newton around 1715 as the banner for their
philosophical and theological convictions.63 In this process the term
‘Newtonian’ acquires actual historical significance and was indeed an

actor’s category. Yet it was used for a specific purpose, as a label to dis-
tinguish a particular conception of natural philosophy, and to its the-
ological aspects in particular. ‘Newtonianism’ as used by early Dutch
Newtonians was the physico-theological program that mobilized the
pious response to the allegedly atheist implications of Descartes’ and
Spinoza’s mechanistic philosophies.64 In other words, ‘Newtonianism’
is a theological/philosophical concept that should be carefully distin-
guished from astronomical, physical or chemical theories. If the label
‘Newtonianism’ has any historiographical value, it is as the ideological
label in the way the Dutch Newtonians used it.
The rhetoric used to separate the new philosophy from the Carte-
sian (and Spinozist) threats of atheism was loud and persuasive. At
the same time it obscured the ideas and practices they had devel-
oped on their own, as well as the other sources of inspiration and jus-
tification like Rohault, Huygens, De Volder and Wolff. Central to the
Newton-rhetoric was the requirement to deduce propositions from
the phenomena, as contrasted to the rationalist speculations of Car-
tesians. Significantly, in their rhetoric they used the name of Boyle
almost as often as Newton to mark off the despicable Descartes. Boyle
fitted the physico-theological ideology of the ‘Newtonians’ perfectly,
but he also provides a much earlier source than Newton and a direct
link with the previous pursuits of De Volder. Moreover, the reference
to Boyle points to the conspicuous interest in chemistry among the

Dutch ‘Newtonians’. An example of this is the particular attention Ten
Kate gave Fahrenheit’s ‘ethereal phosphors’ when introducing him to
the Amsterdam circles. Likewise, in the Opticks Ten Kate and other
‘Newtonians’ singled out Newton’s theory of the colours of bodies in
particular. This chemical context was quite significant from 1700 and
should be taken into account when considering the development of
‘Newtonianism’. Early modern chemistry has a history of its own that
sheds new light to the development of experimental physics and the
role of Newton.65
In optics too, the Dutch ‘Newtonians’ had different sources of inspi-
ration prior to Newton. In its early days, Vermij’s circle of Amsterdam
amateurs had been a principal promoter of Tschirnhaus. Le Clerc and
Ameldonk Blok (fl. 1687) saw to the publication of Tschirnhaus’ ‘Medi-
cinae’ and their prompt translations. They had a particular interest 175
in his optical projects, advertising and circulation burning mirrors
and lenses of his. The connection I hypothesized between Fahren-
heit and Tschirnhaus was probably not coincidental. Finally, the
same circle had been instrumental in promoting the optical works
of Hartsoeker in the 1690s. Despite the fact that Hartsoeker turned
against Newton in 1712, to the audience of his lectures Fahrenheit rec-
ommended him in optics. However, in the ‘Newtonian’ rhetoric of the
1710s and 1720s such diverse sources of inspiration largely disappeared
from view.
Ten Kate would vehemently advocate Newton against Descartes
for it in De Schepper en zyn bestier. Still, he did not need Newton to
become an empiricist. He already was long before Newton came to
his attention. Ten Kate had developed his empirical approach to lin-
guistics from the late 1690s onwards.66 The label ‘Newtonian’ fitted
his empiricism — proposing and proving properties from phenome-
na — but with respect to Newton’s account of the nature and proper-
ties of light, he was rather liberal. His phenomenological approach to
nature did not quite fit Newton’s analytical optics and the ontology
of his theory of sound was entirely at odds with Newton’s doctrines.
These did not disappear after 1716. Very few Dutch Newtonians were
orthodox in any sense of the word. ’s Gravesande and Van Musschen-
broek explicitly used hypotheses; in a circumspect manner but still
introducing speculative elements in experimental philosophy.67 ‘New-
tonian physics’ had many features that were rather non-Newtonian,
like the predilection for pumps and hydrology ’s Gravesande and Van
Musschenbroek shared with Desaguliers, and a focus on chemistry. In
optics too, the Dutch ‘Newtonians’ put emphasis on specific themes
— the colours of bodies, the nature of light — that transformed Newto-
nian optics into a new entity. Newtonian about their philosophy was
mostly the ontology of particles and forces. Compared to Ten Kate and
Fahrenheit, ’s Gravesande and Van Musschenbroek were more occu-
pied with building a system of natural philosophy, but this was pri-
marily because they wrote textbooks.
Newtonian Opticks
If there was something like Dutch ‘Newtonianism’, it was primar-
ily linked to the second edition of the Principia and the ideology of
pious natural philosophy. In the history of Dutch ‘Newtonianism’, the
176 Opticks is relatively overshadowed by the Principia. My account of the
reading of the Opticks somewhat shifts the perspective from philo-
sophical systems and worldviews to ingenuity and materials. In optics

natural philosophical issues of God and Nature were less prominent.
Although I have confined my discussion to the intellectual aspects
of ‘Dutch Newtonianism’, it can be questioned whether this can be
approached as a set of ideas at all. Interpreting early Dutch Newto-
nianism — and Ten Kate’s and Fahrenheit’s pursuits in particular — as
material culture may be historically illuminating.68 Yet even from an
intellectual perspective it is clear that the ‘recipients’ of Newton’s opti-
cal doctrines actively appropriated their readings to their own causes.
They possessed considerable expertise in matters of optics and this
shaped the way they took up the Opticks. ‘Newton’s optics’ was not
ready-made to be exported; it was read and thus made, in the Low
Countries too.
Despite the enthusiasm for Newton’s optics and despite the large
amount of publications in Dutch on experimental philosophy, Opticks
was never translated into Dutch. By the time the second, enlarged edi-
tion of Opticks appeared in 1717, the Low Countries had been flooded
by the tsunami of Newtonophilia. This new edition was ‘Newtonian-
ized’ in a similar way as the second edition of Principia, emphasizing
its epistemological and ontological outlook.69 In 1720 the first French
translation was published in Amsterdam. It was followed by a second
edition in Paris, to which Newton himself exerted his authority by mak-
ing its ‘Newtonian’ message unmistakable. Eventually, Opticks made it
to the Dutch language via a considerable detour. In 1753 the Amster-

dam printer Isaak Tirion (1705–1765) published a Dutch translation of
Robert Smith’s Compleat System of Opticks. This was a carefully struc-
tured textbook on optics, in which the Opticks was the foundation of
the physical part. But Smith, too, appropriated Newton’s doctrines to
his own didactic interests.70 A direct Dutch translation of Opticks was
never made and so a Gezigtkunde never saw the light.
Notes
1 L. ten Kate, Gemeenschap tussen de Gottische spraeke en de Nederduytsche

(Amsterdam 1710); L. ten Kate, Den schepper en zyn bestier te kennen in
Zyne schepselen, volgens het licht der reden en wiskonst (Amsterdam 1716);
L. ten Kate, Aenleiding tot de kennisse van het verhevene deel der Neder-
177
duitsche sprake (Amsterdam 1723); L. ten Kate, The beau ideal, by the late
ingenious and learned Hollander Lambert Hermanson ten Kate, translated
from the original French by James Christopher Le Blon, author of the Color-
itto (London 1732). Ten Kate wrote a manuscript treatise on phonetics in
1699, parts of which appeared in the Aenleiding of 1723, his major publica-
tion on linguistics. A transcript of the manuscript by Cornelis Ploos van
Amstel is in the library of the University of Amsterdam: L. ten Kate, ‘Ver-
handeling over de klankkunde’, Library University of Amsterdam, 63 U.B.
I.C. 21. The manuscript is discussed in A. van der Hoeven, Lambert ten
Kate: De ‘Gemeenschap tussen de Gottische spraeke en de Nederduytsche’
en zijne onuitgegeven geschriften over klankkunde en versbouw (’s Graven-
hage 1896).
2 Principal sources for Ten Kate’s biography are: C.L. ten Cate, Lambert ten
Kate Hermansz. (1674–1731). taalgeleerde en konstminnaar (Utrecht 1987);
J. Noordegraaf and M. van der Wal, ‘Lambert ten Kate (1674–1731) and
linguistics’, introduction to L. ten Kate Harmensz., Aenleiding tot de ken-
nisse van het verhevene deel der Nederduitse sprake (Alphen aan den Rijn
2001), pp. 2–32; R. Vermij, ‘The formation of the Newtonian philosophy:
the case of the Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’, British journal for
the history of science 36 (2003), pp. 183–200; H.J. Zuidervaart, Van ‘Konst-
genoten’ en hemelse fenomenen. Nederlandse sterrenkunde in de achttiende
eeuw (Rotterdam, 1999), p. 450. On the Mennonite context, see in particu-
lar: H.Th. van Veen, ‘Devotie en esthetiek bij Lambert ten Kate’, Doops-
gezinde bijdragen 21 (1995), pp. 63–96.
3 Nettis became minister in Middelburg and practiced as eye doctor. In
Middelburg he was a central figure in the local scientific culture, see:
Zuidervaart, ‘Konstgenoten’ (note 2), p. 392 (in particular note 247, p. 535).
4 L. ten Kate, ‘Proef-ondervinding over de scheyding der coleuren, bevon-

den, door een prisma, in de volgende orde der muzyk-toonen; in navolging
eener Proef-ondervinding in Newtons gezigtkunde: eertyds waargenomen,
en nu uit de nalatenschap van Lamb. ten Katen, Hz. medegedeeld door
den voorgem: Joh: Nettis’, Verhandelingen uitgegeeven door de Hollandse
Maatschappy der Weetenschappen, te Haarlem, part 3 (Haarlem 1757), pp.
17–30.
5 Ten Kate, ‘Scheyding’ (note 4), pp. 17–18. ‘Newton berigt in zyn Boek over
de gezigt-kunde (Boek I. Afdeel. II. III. Deel. Voorstel III. Proef VII.) pag.
104, ...’.
6 This is probably one of the weakest spots in the Opticks because New-
ton did not really substantiate — theoretically or empirically — this state-
ment. The musical division of the spectrum was in fact the weak bid after
Newton had failed to find a law of dispersion that met his standards.
With hindsight this is exactly where his project of turning the science of
178
colours mathematical foundered. For a complete account, see: A.E. Shap-
iro, ‘Newton’s “Achromatic” dispersion law: theoretical background and
experimental evidence’, Archive for history of exact sciences 21 (1979), pp.
91–128.
7 A.E. Shapiro (ed.), The optical papers of Isaac Newton, Vol. 1, The Optical
Lectures, 1670–1672 (Cambridge 1984), pp. 537–549; I. Newton, ‘An hypoth-
esis explaining the properties of light discoursed of in my several papers’,
in: Th. Birch, The history of the Royal Society of London, for Improving of
Natural Knowledge, from its first rise, 4 vols (London 1756–1757), vol. 3, pp.
247–305.
8 Shapiro, ‘Achromatic’ (note 6), pp. 105–113.
9 P. Gouk, ‘The harmonic roots of Newtonian science’, in: J. Fauvel et al.
(eds), Let Newton be! (Oxford 1988), pp. 101–126; H. Miedema, Denkbeeldig
schoon. Lambert ten Kates opvattingen over beeldende kunst, 2 vols (Lei-
den 2006), vol. 2, p. 35. See Ten Kate’s letters in this edition, vol. 1, p. 177,
p. 197 and p. 202.
10 ‘De Scheijding der Koleuren met de Prisma vloeijt zo teder ondereen, dat
geen oog dit verschil tussen de omstaende Newtons deeling en de myne ver-
merken kan; waarom ik, vermits de Werken der Natuer, hoe meer ze gekent,
hoe volmaeckter dat ze gevonden worden, de myne voor de egtste houde.’
Kate, ‘Scheyding’ (note 4), p. 21.
11 ‘Hier nu egter vertoont ze [de Straelscheijding of Regenboogsche Coleurmak-
ing] zig by dit Vlies reflecterende, zoo heerlyk, duijdelyk, en in haer opper-
sten graed, met Regenboog op Regenboog, en Octaef op Octaef: waervan de
Oplossing ten uitersten merkwaerdig is.’ Ten Kate, ‘Scheyding’ (note 4), p.
25.
12 ‘... waaruit een alleredelst Prisma-vormig Vlies geboren word:’. Ten Kate,
‘Scheyding’ (note 4), p. 26.
13 A.E. Shapiro, Fits, passions, and paroxysms. physics, method, and chemis-
try and Newton’s theories of colored bodies and fits of easy reflection (Cam-
bridge 1993), pp. 199–207.
14 He gives page number 104. Book 1, part 2, Proposition III, Experiment VII
is on pp. 91–93 in the original English edition of Opticks of 1704. In Optice
of 1706 it is on pp. 103–106.
15 O.M. Lilien, Jacob Christoph Le Blon 1667–1741: inventor of three- and four
colour printing (Stuttgart 1985).
16 F.J. Dijksterhuis, ‘“Will the eye be the sole judge?” “Science” and “Art” in
the optical inquiries of Lambert ten Kate and Hendrik van Limborch
around 1710’, in E. Jorink and B. Ramakers (eds), Art and science in the
early modern Low Countries, Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art/
Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 61 (Zwolle 2011) 308–331.
17 I. Newton, Opticks (London 1704), pp. 110–117 (Book I, Part II, Prop. V, The-
orem IV, Exp. XV; and Prop. VI, Problem II).
18 The colors of the spectrum are represented by arcs on the circumference 179
of the circle, whose lengths are based on the harmonic division of the
spectrum. The portion of each color in the mixture is represented by a
weight and the common center of gravity can then be determined. The
radius through this point gives the position of the compound color on
the circumference of the circle, and thus its position in the spectrum.
19 J. Le Clerc, ‘Article VII. Optics (sic), ... A Londres 1604. in 4. pagg. 356’, Bib-
liothèque Choisie 9 (1706), pp. 245–319.
20 J. Le Clerc, ‘Optics’ (note 19), pp. 278–281. Newton’s account of the rain-
bow again received ample attention.
21 F.J. Dijksterhuis, ‘Reading up on the upticks. Refashioning Newton’s the-
ories of light and colors in eighteenth-century textbooks’, Perspectives
on science 16 (2008), pp. 309–327. Likewise Desaguliers, who also ignored
Newton’s account of colours in thin films.
22 J. Le Clerc, ‘Optics’ (note 19), pp. 304–319.
23 Ten Kate, Beau ideal (note 1), preface i.
24 J. Le Clerc, ‘Article II. Livres Anglois. Pour trouver la vérité de la religion
naturelle, par des raisons philosophiques’, Bibliotheque ancienne & mod-
erne 3–1 (1715), pp. 41–158; Ten Kate, Schepper (note 1).
25 Ten Kate, Schepper (note 1), pp. 48–49.
26 Ibidem, p. 121.
27 See also J. Gage, Colour and culture: practice and meaning from antiquity
to abstraction (London 1993), pp. 168–171.
28 J.C. Le Blon, Coloritto, or the harmony of coloring in painting: reduced to
mechanical practice under easy precepts and infallible rules, together with
some colour’d figures in order to render the said precepts and rules intelli-
gible not only to painters but even to all lovers of painting (London [1725]),
p. 6.
29 Van Veen, ‘Devotie’ (note 2); Miedema, Denkbeeldig schoon (note 9), vol. 2,
pp. 39–42.
30 Van Veen, ‘Devotie’ (note 2), pp. 79–95.
31 In particular, Ibidem, pp. 71–77.
32 Ten Kate, ‘Klankkunde’ (note 1). See also Van der Hoeven, Onuitgegeven
geschriften (note 1).
33 I discuss the project and elaborate my argument about its significance
for the historiography of optics in Dijksterhuis, ‘Will the eye’ (note 16).
34 L. ten Kate, (L.t.K.H.), ‘Article VII. Lettre écrite à l’auteur de la B.A.&M.’,
Bibliothèque ancienne & moderne 8 (1717), 1st part, pp. 223–231. Citation
on p. 223: ‘je vous communicai qu’il y avoit ici, à Amsterdam, un Mr. Far-
enheit, qui fait plusieurs sortes de Barometres & de Thermometres, avec
beaucoup plus d’exactitude, pour l’usage des Physiciens, que j’en aye trouvé
jusqu’à présent’.
35 Ten Kate did not refer to the publications of Hauksbee. For the history of
180
barometric light, see E.N. Harvey, A history of luminescence from the ear-
liest times until 1900 (Philadelphia 1957), in particular pp. 271–277; D.W.
Corson, ‘Pierre Poliniere, Francis Hauksbee, and electroluminescence: a
case of simultaneous discovery’, Isis 59 (1968), pp. 402–413.

36 J. Picard, ‘Experience fait à l’observatoire sur la barometre simple tou-
chant un nouveau phenomene qu’on y a découvert’, Journal des sçavans
(25 May 1676), p. 112 (Paris edition); p. 126 (Amsterdam edition).
37 J. Bernoulli, ‘Nouvelle maniere de rendre les baromètres lumineux’,
Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des Sciences de Paris 2 (1703), pp. 178–190;
J. Bernoulli, ‘Noveau phosphore’, Mémoires de l’Académie Royale des
Sciences de Paris 2 (1704), pp. 1–9; J. Bernoulli, ‘Lettre de M. Bernoulli
Professor à Groningue, touchant son noveau phosphore’, Mémoires de
l’Académie Royale des Sciences de Paris 2 (1704), pp. 135–146.
38 P. van der Star (ed. and trans.), Fahrenheit’s letters to Leibniz and Boer-
haave (Amsterdam 1983), pp. 1–18.
39 ‘Natuurkundige Lessen van Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit’, Leiden University
Library, BPL 772. See Zuidervaart, Konstgenoten (note 2), p. 445 n.70. H.
Snelders, ‘De beoefening van de natuurkunde door de gegoede burgerij
uit de achttiende eeuw’, Documentatieblad werkgroep achttiende eeuw
31–32 (1976), pp. 3–24. The notes were made by Jacob Ploos van Amstel
(1693–1758). His son Cornelis Ploos van Amstel (1726–1798) was an avid
collector of art and instruments. He acquired large parts of Ten Kate’s
collection and copied a substantial part of his manuscript writings. The
manuscript copies are in the library of the University of Amsterdam, 63
U.B.I.C. 21–24. See Miedema, Denkbeeldig schoon (note 9), vol. 1, pp. 14–15;
Th. Laurentius et al. (eds), Cornelis Ploos van Amstel (1726–1798). kunstver-
zamelaar en prentuitgever (Assen 1980), pp. 97–99.
40 D. Fahrenheit, ‘Berigt’, transcribed in E. Cohen and W.A.T. Cohen-de
Meester, ‘Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit (geb. te Danzig 24 Mei 1686, overl.

te ’s-Gravenhage 16 Sept. 1736)’, Chemisch weekblad 33 (1936), pp. 374–393
(separate copy: pp. 19–27). ‘De Methode om Natuurkundige Wetenschap-
pen, die met de Wiskonst verknogt zyn, door Experimenta of Proeven te
demonstreeren, is onwederspreeklyk de beste.’
41 In 1722 Fahrenheit had a letter published on ethereal phosphors, empha-
sizing the proof of quality these provided for barometers: D.G. Fahren-
heit, ‘Brief van den heere D.G. Fahrenheit aan Willem van Ranouw over
de lichtende barometers, en over de kentekenen van een goeden baro-
meter’, Kabinet der natuurlyke historien, wetenschappen, konsten en hand-
werken 7 (1722), pp. 21–63.
42 ‘Natuurkundige Lessen’ (note 39), f. 11r.
43 N. Hartsoeker, ‘Lettre de Mr. Hartsoeker, sur quelques endroits des
ouvrages de Mrs. Cheyne & Derham’, Bibliotheque ancienne & moderne 8
(1712), pp. 303–350. See also C. Berkvens-Stevelinck, ‘Nicolas Hartsoeker
contre Isaac Newton ou pourquoi les planètes se meuvent-elles?’, Lias 2 181
(1975), pp. 313–328.
44 ‘Natuurkundige lessen (note 39) f. 8r.
45 Ibidem, f. 34v.
46 Ibidem, ff. 52r-52v. ‘Zijn eigen woorden luiden aldus. Nadat ik voor omtrent
9 jaren de Optique van den heere Newton gelezen had, beviel mij de Com-
positie van de voorbeschreven Verrekijker zo wel, dat ik maar naar gelegen-
heid haakte om een diergelijke werkstellig te maken, en vermits den heer
Newton zo wel over het Metaal, als over het Glas in zijn werk klaagt, verkoos
ik voor omtrent 6 Jaren een zeer hart gemaakt Staal tot de voorwerp Spiegel
van Ses duim brandpunt, Rhijnlandse maat; en nadermaal het mij in ’t
gebruik wat ongemaklijk scheen om van ter zijden in de spiegel te kijken,
zo maakte ik in ’t midden van die Spiegel een rond gat, voorts stelde ik een
klein bultig spiegeltje op zodanigen afstand van de Voorwerp Spiegel, dat
de stralen der Voorwerpen (die van de groote spiegel gereflecteert wierden)
voor de twedemaal afkaatsten naar de Opening, die in de groote Voorwerp
Spiegel gemaakt was, bij welke opening de Stralen tot een beeltnis verza-
meld wierden.’
47 Van der Star, Letters (note 38), pp. 66–71.
48 Cohen and Cohen-de Meester, ‘Fahrenheit’ (note 40), pp. 9–15; Van der
Star, Letters (note 38), pp. 5–8.
49 G. Haase, ‘Tschirnhaus und die sächsischen Glashütten in Pretzsch, Dres-
den und Glücksburg’, in: W. Dolz and P. Plaßmeyer (eds), Experimente mit
dem Sonnenfeuer: Ehrenfried Walther von Tschirnhaus (1651–1708). Sonder-
ausstellung im Mathematisch-Physikalischen Salon im Dresdner Zwinger
vom 11 April bis 29 Juli 2001 (Dresden 2001), pp. 55–67.
50 He had been a nodal point to a circle of heterodox thinkers in the Dutch
Republic. R.H. Vermij, ‘De Nederlandse vriendenkring van E.W. von
Tschirnhaus’, Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der geneeskunde, natuur-

wetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 11 (1988), pp. 153–178.
51 K. Schillinger, ‘Herstellung und Anwendung von Brennspiegeln und
Brennlinsen durch Ehrenfried Walther von Tschirnhaus’, in: Dolz and
Plaßmeyer (eds), Experimente (note 49), pp. 43–54.
52 This is by no means a novel issue; it has been discussed from at least the
1970s (see the references in the notes). Nevertheless, the label ‘Newto-
nianism’ is still frequently used and often in a rather careless manner. I
therefore find it appropriate to go into the matter again. Moreover, the
reception of Opticks offers some additional perspectives on the matter.
53 See, for example, E. Ruestow, Physics at seventeenth- and eighteenth-cen-
tury Leiden: philosophy and the new science in the university (The Hague
1973). In the history of science nuances may have developed, but the
generic term ‘Newtonianism’ endures.
54 J. Schuster, ‘The scientific revolution’, in: R.C. Olby et al. (eds), Companion
182
to the history of modern science (London 1990), pp. 217–242; R. Iliffe, ‘Phi-
losophy of science’, in: R. Porter (ed.), The Cambridge history of science,
Vol. 4, eighteenth-century science (Cambridge 2003), pp. 267–284.
55 This is even in the case in the quite lucid accounts of Heilbron and Hak-
foort: J.L. Heilbron, Electricity in the 17th and 18th centuries: a study of
early modern physics (Berkeley 1979); C. Hakfoort, ‘Christian Wolff tus-
sen Cartesianen en Newtonianen’, Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der
geneeskunde, natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 5 (1982), pp.
27–38.
56 C. de Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761), een Newtoniaans na-
tuuronderzoeker (PhD-thesis, Utrecht 1979); R.E. Schofield, ‘An evolu-
tionary taxonomy of eighteenth-century Newtonianisms’, Studies in
eighteenth-century culture 7 (1978), pp. 175–192.
57 J. Gascoigne, ‘Ideas of nature: natural philosophy’, in: Porter, Cambridge
history (note 54), pp. 285–304.
58 A case in question is Huygens’ response in 1672 to Newton’s ‘New theory
of white light and colours’, that was not motivated by his different ideas
of the ontology of light but by his material and intellectual expertise in
telescope making. See F.J. Dijksterhuis, Lenses and waves: Christiaan Huy-
gens (1629–1695) and the mathematical science of optics in the seventeenth
century (Dordrecht 2004), pp. 83–92.
59 Coincidentally, in a response to Hakfoort and a defense of the use of cat-
egories like ‘Newtonianism’, Van Berkel explained that the criterion for
historical concepts is not empirical correctness but narrative fruitful-
ness. K. van Berkel, ‘Wat is er mis met het isme? Kanttekeningen bij een
themanummer’, Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis der geneeskunde, natuur-
wetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek 5 (1982), pp. 118–125, on 124. The
focus on natural philosophical systems probably is a product of twenti-
eth-century conceptions of natural science in which foundational theo-

ries are central. Projecting this in history presupposes paradigms to be
the cornerstone of natural inquiry. Less orthodox dealings with systems
is then often called ‘eclectic’, a term that explains little to nothing. In my
view, one will look hard for a ‘hard core’ with ‘Newtonians’ or other ‘ians’.
60 Schofield, ‘Taxonomy’ (note 56).
61 G. Wiesenfeldt, Leeres Raum in Minervas Haus. Experimentelle naturlehre
an der Universität Leiden, 1675–1715 (Amsterdam 2002), pp. 54–58.
62 D.M. Clark, Occult powers and hypotheses: Cartesian philosophy under
Louis XIV (Oxford 1989).
63 Vermij, ‘Formation’ (note 2).
64 M. Evers, ‘Pro Newtone et religione: de receptie van Newton en de Engelse
fysicotheologen in de Bibliotheqe Ancienne et Moderne (1714–1727), Docu-
mentatieblad achttiende eeuw 20 (1988), pp. 247–267; E. Jorink, ‘Honour-
ing Sir Isaac, or, exorcising the ghost of Spinoza: some remarks on the
success of Newton in the Dutch Republic’, in: S. Ducheyne (ed.), Future 183
perspectives on Newton scholarship and the Newtonian legacy in eight-
eenth-century science and philosophy, Verhandelingen van de Koninklijke
Vlaamse Academie van België voor Wetenschappen en Kunsten (Brussel
2009), pp. 21–32, on pp. 26–31.
65 L.M. Principe, ‘A revolution nobody noticed? Changes in early eight-
eenth-century chymistry’, in: L.M. Principe (ed.), New narratives in
eighteenth-century chemistry: contributions from the first Francis Bacon
workshop, 21–23 April 2005 (Dordrecht 2007), pp. 1–22.
66 R. Salverda, ‘Newtonian linguistics’, in: M.C. Davies, J.L. Floord, and D.N.
Yeandle (eds), ‘Proper words in proper places’: studies in lexicology and lexi-
cography in honour of William Jervies Jones (Stuttgart 2001), pp. 115–132;
Noordegraaf and Van der Wal, ‘Lambert ten Kate and linguistics’ (note
2), pp. 10–12. Jorink offers a more balanced interpretation, although he
does not elaborate very much upon the roots of Dutch experimentalism:
Jorink, ‘Honouring Sir Isaac’ (note 64), pp. 21–32.
67 Dijksterhuis, ‘Reading up’ (note 21).
68 L.L. Roberts, ‘Going Dutch: situating science in the Dutch Enlighten-
ment’, in: W. Clark, J. Golinski and S. Schaffer (eds), The sciences in Enlight-
ened Europe (Chicago 1999), pp. 350–388.
69 J.-F. Baillon, ‘Two eighteenth-century translators of Newton’s Opticks:
Pierre Coste and Jean-Paul Marat’, Enlightenment and dissent 25 (2009),
pp. 1–28
70 Dijksterhuis, ‘Reading up’ (note 21).
Defining the Supernatural

The Dutch Newtonians, the Bible and the Laws
of Nature
RIENK VERMIJ
‘Newtonianism’ is, as we all know, a problematic term.1 Newton’s ideas 185

were appropriated by different people in different ways and for dif-
DE F I N I N G T H E S U P E RNAT U RAL
ferent purposes, and not all concepts which came to be sold under
Newton’s name actually stemmed from him. It is of little use to try to
define a concept like ‘Newtonianism’ a priori, or based on our own pre-
conceptions of the ‘real’ content or significance of Newton’s ideas. The
study of Newtonianism should be a study of how far and why people
at the time admired Newton, and what they felt his ideas meant, or
should mean.
We can tackle the subject in both its wide and narrow senses. New-
tonianism in a narrow sense can be equalled to the contemporary use
of this or a similar term. ‘Newtonian philosophy’ was a term used by
people at the time, so we may ask what exactly they meant by it. On
the other hand, we can wonder why such concepts were attractive at
all. If people invoked Newton, that was because his name came to be
associated with a more general view of the world. Such a view would
consist of many (in our view often disparate) elements, certainly not all
of them directly originating with Newton, even if associated with his
name. This Newtonianism in a wide sense is more difficult to define.
Its identity is not fixed in a scientific or philosophical content, but is
continuously reshaped by historical dynamics. In this essay, I will limit
myself to the situation in the Dutch Republic, although some glances
at the general European context will be found useful.
There appears to be by and large consensus about the main factors
which in the Netherlands shaped ‘Newtonianism’ in its wide sense.
Newtonianism was on the one hand an answer to the confessional

strife of the seventeenth century. It was hoped that Newton’s ideas, or
‘correct’ scientific ideas generally, would serve as a rational foundation
for both philosophical and religious truth, and thereby overcome doc-
trinal and confessional strife. On the other hand, it was an answer to,
and an alternative for, the Cartesian philosophy which had dominated
the second half of the seventeenth century. This Cartesianism was no
longer acceptable for several reasons. Some of these were scientific, but
for the large majority of people, the religious aspects of natural philoso-
phy would weigh heavier. At the end of the seventeenth century, philo-
sophical developments were upsetting established beliefs. Benedictus
Spinoza (1632–1676) came forward with a philosophy which threatened
the whole of religion. Newtonian philosophy made headway because it
was seen as offering a decisive blow to the Spinozistic threat.2
186 In earlier work, I discussed the social dimensions of early Dutch
Newtonianism, how it served as a way to obtain social and religious
peace.3 In this essay, though largely based on earlier research, I will con-
centrate on its more purely intellectual dimensions. It should be said
from the outset that as a philosophy, Newtonianism is highly problem-
atic. It consisted of various elements which appeared to cohere, but
were not necessarily coherent. I will try to throw some light upon this
complex by putting it in the context of contemporary debates. The for-
mulation of a Newtonian philosophy cannot be explained just by the
impact of Newton’s writings, nor even as a reaction to René Descartes
(1596–1650) and Spinoza. The relevance of Newton’s work imposed
itself only after 1713, when the second edition of the Principia was pub-
lished. Spinoza’s work had been around since 1670 and 1677. The New-
tonian alternative was therefore formulated rather late. Indeed, there
had been several earlier (failed) attempts to bring natural philosophy
in agreement with the demands of religion. The Newtonians were well
aware of these and the outcome of the earlier debates influenced their
ideas as much as the specific things Newton had to say. In the end, the
issue that mattered most was the authority of the Bible. Purely philo-
sophical problems were secondary.
Dutch Newtonians: People and ideas

First of all, let us have a short view on the people who, under our wide
definition, we might label ‘Newtonians’. This will also give us some
idea of the various reasons why people admired Newton. Among
the first propagators of ‘Newtonianism’ were the scientific amateurs

in the circle of Adriaan Verwer (c.1655–1717) in Amsterdam in the
1710s. Members included Lambert ten Kate (1674–1731) and Bernard
Nieuwentijt (1654–1717). These people had been worried by Spino-
zism for a long time. Under the influence of some of Newton’s friends,
like David Gregory (1659–1708), they became aware of the apologetic
potential of Newton’s work and seized upon it as an orthodox form
of natural philosophy to counter the Spinozistic threat. Their use of
Newton’s theories was selective and, from the point of view of modern
science, defective. (On Ten Kate for instance, see the contribution by
Dijksterhuis in this volume.) Newton had to fit in with their precon-
ceived ideas. Bernard Nieuwentijt, the most influential member of the
group, appears also the most lukewarm about Newton’s theory of uni-
versal gravitation.4
Also in contact with Verwer and his friends was the journalist Jean 187
Le Clerc (1657–1736), who discussed Newtonian ideas in his journals.
A francophone who edited a French journal, he moved in different cir-
cles and he had his own contacts with England (he even read English).
Le Clerc’s aims as a journalist may have been slightly different from
those of the Amsterdam amateurs, but his worries appear very similar.
He presented Newton as a new philosopher who would counter the
atheistic tendencies of his time. His extract of George Cheyne’s Prin-
ciples of natural religion (1715), which he presented as a specimen of
Newton’s philosophy, was later translated into Dutch by Ten Kate and
published separately. Le Clerc again commended this edition in his
journal. It appeared like a kind of systematic campaign.5
Probably the most prominent or conspicuous Dutch ‘Newtonians’
were the academic teachers who expressly claimed to be propagat-
ing Newton’s theories in their lectures and textbooks. Among the
first generation of Newtonian professors, the most influential were
Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande (1688–1742), who obtained a chair at Lei-
den in 1717, and Petrus van Musschenbroek (1687–1747), who in suc-
cession was a professor at Duisburg (1719), Utrecht (1723) and Leiden
(1739).6 The professors’ main aim was to explain natural philosophy
to students, not to practice religious apologetics, but that is not to
say that the latter was completely off their minds. The modern strict
division between scientific, philosophical and religious knowledge did
not exist at the time. ’s Gravesande and Van Musschenbroek had been
introduced to Newton’s theories by English scientists, during trips to
England, but there was also common ground with the above men-
tioned amateurs. ’s Gravesande and Nieuwentijt maintained contacts
well before the former went to England or became a professor. In 1715,
Nieuwentijt referred to ’s Gravesande when discussing an apologetical
argument by John Arbuthnot (1667–1735) and presented ’s Gravesande
with a copy of the book wherein it was published. This book then was
reviewed at great length in the Journal littéraire de La Haye, of which
’s Gravesande was an editor.7
Somewhat different is the case of Jacob Odé (b. 1698), who in 1723
became a professor at Utrecht along with Van Musschenbroek. Odé
had not been so privileged as to get first-hand knowledge of the new
theories from English scientists. Whereas ’s Gravesande and Van Mus-
schenbroek aimed to completely restructure natural philosophy on
the foundation of Newton’s theories, Odé was more cautious in this
188 respect. His use of Newton’s theories remained more piecemeal, try-
ing to harmonize old and new ideas. Still, he too saw good use for
Newton’s ideas and in the course of his career these gradually became
more prominent in his writings. His recognition of their apologetical
potential appears to have been an important stimulus.8
Even if all of these people had their own purposes and referred to
different aspects of Newton’s writings, they could still regard each oth-
er as participants in a common project. Broadly speaking, this pro-
ject was defining the relation between God and nature in a way which
answered both scientific and religious demands. Still, this ‘project’ did
not comprehend a systematic or coherent philosophy. Rather, it was
a complex of ideas which consisted of heterogeneous elements. Some
ideas came from Newton’s work, others were borrowed from the ear-
ly English ‘Newtonians’, who of course were just as heterogeneous a
group. Moreover, different people emphasised various elements more
than others. We can list the most important of these elements.
The most obvious ‘Newtonian’ element is the inference from New-
ton’s theory of universal gravitation that there are decidedly non-
mechanical forces at work in the universe; and hence, that mechanical
principles cannot explain everything. The argument was proposed first
by Roger Cotes (1612–1716) in the preface to the second edition of New-
ton’s Principia and much used abroad. In the Dutch Republic, the argu-
ment was particularly advanced by Le Clerc. We find an echo in Odé’s
textbook of 1727, where he defines gravity as a quality added to matter,
impressed by the supreme Creator with the purpose that bodies will
strive towards the centre of the celestial bodies or be moved around

them. This gravity is not natural but effected by the Divine will.9
Another important element is the argument from design, the idea
that the world cannot have its origin in mere mechanical causes,
but can only be explained by the actions of an all-wise, powerful and
benevolent Creator. This is of course much older than Newton, but was
reformulated by English apologists close to Newton. It became one of
the most popular apologetic arguments of the eighteenth century and
gave rise to a whole genre of apologetic literature, called physico-the-
ology. In the Netherlands, Bernard Nieuwentijt was the most impor-
tant representative. Lambert ten Kate also was among the pioneers
with his translation of Cheyne. But the physico-theological argument
was also looked upon favourably by professors, as Van Musschenbroek
and Johannes Lulofs (1711–1768), a student of Van Musschenbroek and
’s Gravesande’s successor at Leiden.10 189
A third element is experimental philosophy, used to refute not only
Cartesian speculations, but also Spinoza’s geometrical way of reason-
ing. This idea too is older than Newtonianism. It can be claimed that it
owes as much to Robert Boyle (1627–1691) as to Isaac Newton, though
it nevertheless became part and parcel in the Newtonian argument.
Experimental philosophy pervaded the eighteenth century. It not just
propagated experimentation, but also denounced speculative philos-
ophy. As such, it was not just a scientific method, but also a social
strategy for defending orthodoxy and dealing with dissent. It was an
essential element of the academic teaching of philosophy, in particu-
lar in the courses of ’s Gravesande and Van Musschenbroek. But it
was also used for apologetics. Here again, Nieuwentijt was the most
important early propagator in the Dutch Republic.11
Finally, we should point to a (from our point of view) more pure-
ly philosophical element, the emphasis on theological voluntarism.12
This in itself was no new stance. The question concerned is the rela-
tion between God and His creation. Voluntarists maintain that the
world depends on God’s will. That is, God could have created things
differently, had He wanted so, and still may intervene at any moment.
This position opposes the view that God wills only the best (which is
a priori given) and is limited by his own decisions (which are eternal).
Newton emphatically defended God’s absolute freedom of action, in
his ‘General Scholium’ and in the controversy with Gottfried Leibniz
(1646–1716) which his follower Samuel Clarke (1675–1729) had fought in
his name. Voluntarism was much favoured in the eighteenth century as

it countered the unwelcome consequences of Cartesian and mechani-
cal philosophy and refuted the claims of materialistic philosophers. The
philosopher who had most radically limited God’s freedom in this way
was, again, Spinoza. The Dutch Newtonians were well aware of his work
and of the need to refute it, as will become clear in the next section.
Newtonianism as an answer to philosophical problems

The novelty of ‘Newtonianism’ laid not so much in the disparate ele-
ments, many of which had been familiar for long, but in the cock-
tail. Newton’s unique authority as scientist and mathematician was
used to promote an apologetic, anti-mechanistic and anti-Cartesian
worldview. But of course this would not have happened had the phil-
osophical constellation not favoured it. The old Cartesian philosophy,
190 which so far had offered the main legitimation for scientific research,
had run into trouble, in particular because of Spinoza’s work. Eight-
eenth-century ‘Newtonianism’ was in large part an attempt to create

a viable philosophy of nature that on the one hand would account for
all the scientific discoveries of the previous century, but on the other
would avoid the problems of the mechanical philosophy.
The main problem concerned the relation between God and nature.
Descartes had claimed that God acted by immutable and universal
laws of nature. As a new and upsetting concept, these laws demand-
ed a philosophical and theological justification. As John Henry has
argued, this was the main reason for the emergence of what Amos
Funkenstein described as ‘secular theology’, the seventeenth centu-
ry field which discussed the relation between God and nature. This
thinking referred to medieval scholastic tradition, but its lynchpin was
Descartes’ explanation of his laws. Descartes explained that the laws
of nature were the direct expression of God’s will. As God was eternal
and immutable, so were the laws of nature. Any change in the universe
had to be explained by laws which were immutable themselves.13
The problem with this idea was that Descartes’ identification of the
laws of nature with God’s eternal will made it difficult to maintain that
God could still sidestep the laws of nature. Spinoza drew the utmost
conclusion and identified God and nature altogether. Hence, the laws
of nature were strictly necessary. God, or nature, acted in an eternal-
ly unchanging way. Miracles and special providence had no place,
neither in the order of nature, nor even in the divine order. As Edgar
Zilsel stated, ‘Spinoza is the first author combining general metaphys-

ical determinism with the modern concept of natural law’.14 Spinoza
thereby did away with the traditional concept of God as a transcend-
ent governor of the world who cared for his creation, and he did so
following the leading thoughts of Cartesian philosophy.
Descartes’ interpretation of the laws of nature therefore led to con-
sequences which were deemed unacceptable. This discredited the field
of ‘secular theology’. The project attempting to metaphysically bolster
the laws of nature was therefore abandoned — one of the reasons, it
would seem, for the turn to experimental philosophy. Eighteenth-cen-
tury proponents of natural philosophy had to find other ways to justify
their undertaking. Newtonian authors still regarded the laws of nature
as a cornerstone of natural philosophy, but would no longer see them
as a consequence of God’s immutability. They would claim that the
laws of nature were free, and by no means necessary, dispositions of 191
God. The examples of British authors emphasizing this point (Newton,
Cotes, etc.) are too familiar to be repeated here. This interpretation
tallied nicely with the new emphasis on experimental philosophy, the-
ological voluntarism and the argument from design.
Newtonian philosophy was embraced as a way to maintain an active
Divine presence in a world which was increasingly seen in scientific
terms. A definition of the laws of nature which left room for divine
miracles was one of the major requirements. This is also true for the
early Dutch Newtonians. Laws of nature play a very prominent role in
the work of Nieuwentijt. The 27th chapter in his book Het regt gebruik
bears the title: ‘On some laws of nature’. As if that were not enough,
the 28th is called: ‘On some chemical laws of nature’. Taken together,
these two chapters make up over a hundred pages.15 In these chapters,
Nieuwentijt aims to demonstrate that God ‘acts not only rationally, not
only incomprehensibly, but also according to his pleasure, not forced
by any necessity, and freely’.16 This latter argument is one of the main
themes, not just of these two chapters, but of the book as a whole.
Time and time again Nieuwentijt rejects the Spinozistic opinion that
everything in nature is dependent upon necessary laws. If the laws
of nature were necessary, he argues, they should always produce the
same effects. The abundant variation of nature therefore argues for an
all-powerful Creator.
Nieuwentijt gave many examples, be it not all of them convincing
to a modern reader. The fact that fishes live under water shows that
a God and adorable wise and intelligent Being manifests itself

in their formation; Who, having for other animals made the
air so indispensable that without it they can hardly a minute
survive, now, in creating these water animals, has demonstrat-
ed irrefutably that one can deduce their origin and nature only
from a wisdom which arranges everything according to his
pleasure, and not from any laws of nature which are necessary
and therefore always operate in the same way.17
In the formation of the dragonfly, God
thought fit to make the eyes thereof immovable, which in big-

ger Creatures can be turned to all sides; showing thereby that
he does everything according to his good pleasure, and will
192 be bound to no Laws. An Atheist, who feels that everything
happens by an unwitting necessity, should learn from this [...]
that he who has made the eyes of animals is not limited to

one and the same way in accomplishing something, but that
this diversity in works shows not unclearly that his wisdom,
making the very laws, has power to arrange things according
to his good pleasure.18
Dutch academic textbooks also pay due attention to the character of

the laws of nature. ’s Gravesande introduced the laws of nature in a
way which is clearly reminiscent of Descartes. However, the immuta-
bility of the laws of nature is no longer explained from God’s majesty,
which makes Him to work always in the same way, as earlier philoso-
phers would have it. According to ’s Gravesande, the immutability is a
result of God’s goodness. If the laws of nature were variable, human life
would not be predictable. The food that was safe yesterday, might be
dangerous today. It is only because of the fact that God has established
fixed laws that man can exist in safety. By means of these laws, humans
can draw conclusions about the world from analogy.19 In other words,
the laws of nature are the result of design. They are fixed because they
thus serve better the purposes of the all-wise Architect; but God could
change the laws any time if this would fit His purpose better.
Petrus van Musschenbroek in his textbook simply followed ’s Grave-
sande. He expressly disavowed any speculation on the origin of the
laws of nature, but stresses their voluntaristic character: ‘God, accord-
ing to his omnipotence, could have established other laws as the ones
we find now. True, we do not see the reasons, why he has chosen and
established the like, because of the limits of our small understand-
ing. But it should satisfy us to see that everything has been made and
ordained very wisely’.20
The Bible in the new science

The rise of Newtonianism can be described as a philosophical answer
to philosophical problems. Still, this cannot be the whole story. For
why would people be so worried about maintaining an idea of divine
miracles? The idea of a passive, mechanical nature had become popu-
lar exactly because it reduced comets, earthquakes, monsters, and so
on, which had often been explained as divine signs and warnings, to
the status of mere natural phenomena without any special meaning.
People had become wary of vitalistic or occult principles, sympathies 193
or antipathies, omens and prodigies; they no longer saw the sphere of
the magical or the divine to interpenetrate that of the natural, every-
day world.
In the eighteenth century, this attitude would not change very much.
The Newtonians were as little inclined as their Cartesian predecessors
to regard comets or monsters as special Divine providences. They might
have felt more free to speculate on the purposes God might have had
in designing such phenomena (most often, they claimed they served
the well-being of mankind), but the phenomena themselves should be
explained from the known universal laws which governed the whole
of nature. If this was so, one might well wonder why natural philoso-
phers were so upset about Spinoza’s dismission of miracles. Many sev-
enteenth-century protestant theologians held that the age of miracles
was over anyway.
That miracles were a sensitive topic was not because the miracu-
lous still played a role in people’s daily lives, but because miracles were
mentioned quite prominently in the Bible. Denying the reality of mir-
acles amounted to denying the truth of the biblical story and hence,
it was felt, to undermining all religion. Actually, this was what made
Spinoza’s rejection of miracles so outrageous. His arguments seemed
not much different from those of many other seventeenth-century
philosophers. But whereas those philosophers had only spoken in
terms of natural philosophy and had carefully left religion alone, Spi-
noza expressly applied his principles to the miracles in the Bible. For
the great majority of his contemporaries, this was definitely a bridge

too far. People accepted gladly that their day-to-day world was ‘disen-
chanted’ and devoid of miracles. But at the same time they emphati-
cally defended that the biblical miracles had been real.21
The debate on miracles and the laws of nature, which was a cen-
tral question in the rise of ‘Newtonianism’, was really a debate about
the authority of the Bible. This debate on biblical authority affected
the formulation or defence of many other ideas as well. It is easy to
regard physico-theology, experimental philosophy, and other ele-
ments of ‘Newtonianism’, as purely philosophical or intellectual posi-
tions, but in reality, such positions almost always served the purpose
of salvaging a traditional interpretation of the Bible. Nieuwentijt is
definite about this. About half of his book is devoted to defending a
literal reading of the Bible. Experimental philosophy is for him not just
194 an argument against philosophical speculation, but also for Biblical
truth. The Bible is a book of facts and observations, written by an all-
wise Author. According to experimental principles, one therefore has

to accept its sayings at face value.22
In defending biblical truth, authors joined a long-standing debate.
The rise of the new philosophy in the Dutch Republic had from the
beginning been accompanied by fierce polemics on the religious con-
sequences. Although these debates touched on all kinds of subjects,
the authority of the Bible had been the crucial point. By 1656, a huge
pamphlet war had erupted over the Copernican system, on the ques-
tion whether the Earth moves or not. Cartesian theologians accepted
the findings of modern philosophy and astronomy and maintained
that the sentences of the Bible which appeared to state or imply the
opposite, should be interpreted in a different way. In philosophical or
cosmological matters, the Bible should be taken as representing the
world as things appear to us, not as how they really are in a philosoph-
ical sense. Their traditionalist opponents, on the other hand, led by
the Utrecht professor of theology Gisbertus Voetius (1589–1676), held
that the Bible was the one and only source of real truth and regarded
it as irreligious to modify its interpretation according to the secular
sciences. Other debates of the period also came down to the question
of biblical authority. The question whether animals are machines was
initially waged in terms of the interpretation of biblical sentences.23
The debates of the 1650s and later ended in a stalemate, with an
important part of the theologians accepting the accommodating Bible
interpretations, and another part denouncing it. It should be stressed

that both parties kept to the Bible as a source of divine truth. Most
theologians who defended accommodation were in theological mat-
ters followers of Johannes Cocceius (1603–1669), who gave the Bible a
very central place in belief and spiritual life. The uneasy balance would
not last, however. A principled attack on the sole authority of the Bible
came in 1666 with Lodewijk Meyer’s book Philosophia S. Scripturae
interpres, wherein he argued that theology was subordinated to phi-
losophy — biblical exegesis should direct itself to truth as established
by sane reason. In 1670 was published Spinoza’s Tractatus theologi-
co-politicus with the infamous chapter ‘On miracles’. These authors
made clear that the stakes were much higher and casted doubt upon
the earlier strategies which tried to defend the new philosophy while
at the same time upholding the authority of the Bible.24
Consequently, it would be wrong to regard the debate about the 195
principles of natural philosophy as one on purely philosophical ques-
tions. If there was a problem with the legitimation of Cartesian phi-
losophy and the laws of nature, this was because there was a problem
with accommodating these insights to the Bible.
The interpretation of the Bible at the end of the seventeenth

century
The question of how the Bible should be read in the light of the new
philosophical and scientific insights was a heavily debated one in the
last years of the seventeenth century, well before the rise of Newtonian-
ism. This was not so much a debate between Spinozistic free-thinkers
and the defenders of orthodoxy, although this opposition was heavily
looming in the background. Nor was it a debate between Voetian lit-
eralists and Cartesian (or Cocceian) accommodators, although these
parties still existed. Rather, it was a debate of accommodating and sci-
entifically-minded theologians and philosophers among themselves.
This implies that the first Dutch ‘Newtonians’ were not just reacting
to Spinoza. They were aware of others who had tried to solve the prob-
lems raised by Spinoza in one way or another. And if they succeeded
in finding a solution acceptable to most of their contemporaries, this
was partly because during the earlier debates a consensus had formed
upon which they could build.
In the Dutch Republic, the focal point for debates on the Bible and
the new philosophy about 1700 was the work of the Dutch Reformed
minister, Balthasar Bekker (1634–1698). In his book De betoverde

weereld (The World Bewitched), Bekker denied that the devil had any
power in the physical world. He argued his case with both theologi-
cal and philosophical arguments, but his main source of inspiration
appears to have been Cartesian philosophy. To Bekker, the world was
a material whole, governed by the laws of nature. Spiritual substances,
either good or bad, simply had no place in this world.
The book caused an enormous outcry, not so much because Bekker
denied the existence of witches or ghosts, which most educated peo-
ple by this time had come to dismiss anyway, but because he denied as
well that the Bible spoke of them. The Bible could not possibly teach
things that were not true or not possible. So, Bekker felt that the pas-
sages wherein the Bible speaks of demonic possessions, angels, etc.,
could not be taken literally. Such passages had been accommodated
196 to the understanding of the common people. The debate on the book
was therefore largely a debate on the interpretation of the Bible.25
Bekker was not a Spinozist or atheist but a sincere Calvinist, who,

however, took seriously the new view of nature and the world which
had emerged in the preceding decades. His aim was not to undermine
the Bible as God’s word, but to salvage it. He used the same accommo-
dating exegesis which had earlier been applied by Cartesian theologi-
ans to account for the motion of the Earth. In this case, however, his
contemporaries did not swallow it — not just the conservative Voet-
ians, who defended a strict literalism, rejected his position, but also
the Cocceians, who supported an accommodationist reading of the
Bible in the case of the motion of the Earth. Bekker’s views were nearly
universally rejected and would regain some credit among mainstream
theologians only in the second half of the eighteenth century.26
The campaign against Bekker’s work played an important role in
shaping the views on the proper relation between the Bible and science.
A consensus emerged that the truth of the biblical narrative could not
be measured by the yardstick of science or philosophy. Laws and mir-
acles each had their proper sphere. The Newtonian authors obviously
cannot have missed this major debate, which directly touched upon
their main concerns. It is therefore striking that they remain almost
completely silent upon the issue. Still, on a closer look, they do show
awareness of the underlying problems. In his book Gronden van zeker-
heid (Foundations of certitude), Bernard Nieuwentijt, having refuted
Spinoza’s metaphysics at length, discussed the possibility of an ‘exper-
imental metaphysics’, a metaphysics based upon ‘spiritual experienc-

es’. Here, he left open the possibility of appearances. The true scientific
method demanded that one should accept reports from trustworthy
witnesses about spirits and appearances. Rejecting such testimonies
showed just philosophical prejudice. Although Nieuwentijt does not
mention Bekker’s name, his argument speaks directly against his ten-
ets.27
In the Dutch Republic, the debate on Bekker’s book absorbed most
of the energy spent on this kind of questions, but it was not the only
debate of its kind. Another example is the book by the Haarlem phy-
sician Antoni van Dale (1638–1708) on the ancient pagan oracles. Van
Dale claimed that all of these oracles had been the result of clever
deceit by priests. This book too caused a furious response. Van Dale’s
readers were particularly offended by his ‘debunking’ of a particular
biblical oracle, the story of the witch of Endor in 1 Samuel 28, who, on 197
behalf of King Saul, conjured up the spirit of the dead prophet Samuel.
This gave rise to a vehement dispute, again largely on the question
how to read the Bible. Unavoidably, the issue was read often in the
light of Bekker’s book.28
Another debate concerned the book of the English cleric Thomas
Burnet (c. 1635 — 1715), Telluris theoria sacra (The Sacred Theory of the
Earth, 1681–1689). Herein, Burnet, among other things, gave a natural
explanation of the biblical Flood. Whereas the Bekker debate domi-
nated the Dutch intellectual scene at the end of the seventeenth cen-
tury, it can be said that Burnet’s book was the focus of very similar
debates in England. In the Dutch Republic, Burnet’s book was known
and did play a role in the formation of a new consensus, but it was
something of a side show. Still, it may be of interest to look into its
role somewhat deeper. First of all, it indicates that the questions on
natural science and the Bible were not just a local Dutch interest. The
specifics were determined by local circumstances, but the underlying
questions were more universal. Moreover, the debate is of interest as
it put the question of laws of nature centre stage.
Basically, Burnet tried to bring the interpretation of the Bible into
agreement with recent philosophical ideas (especially as propagat-
ed by Descartes) that the origin and constitution of the Earth, just as
everything else in the universe, could be explained from the laws of
nature. He gave a detailed account how the Earth had come into being
‘according to the Laws established in Nature by the Divine Power and
Wisdom’.29 But whereas Descartes left the creation story alone, Burnet
wanted explicitly to harmonize his views with the Genesis narrative.
The biblical Deluge had a special place in his story, as it explained the
Earth’s tilted axis and uneven surface. The original Earth had been
smooth and even, but at a certain point, the Earth’s crust had collapsed,
unlashing the waters below and thus causing the Flood. This therefore
had not been a special act of God, who had changed the course of nature
in a supernatural way: it was the outcome of a chain of natural events,
inevitable by the very constitution of the Earth. According to Burnet,
most other planets too had undergone a similar deluge. 30
Here again, Burnet’s aim was not to undermine belief in divine
providence, but to find a way to integrate sacred history into natu-
ral philosophy. What he envisions is a ‘general system of Divine Prov-
idence’. For one thing, there is the traditional notion of Providence,
198 which Burnet calls theological Providence, by which God directs the
affairs of man: souls, religion, morals and the state of humankind.
However, another part of the general system is natural Providence, by

which God governs, by his fixed laws, the order of nature: ‘the motions
of Nature are indeed no less than human affairs subjugated to the care
of Divine power’.31 Burnet emphasizes that the two went hand in hand:
the natural world was arranged so as to support the moral world. So,
it is by this natural Providence that the Deluge, though the outcome of
natural causes, happened at a time that it was most needed for moral
purposes.32 Burnet acknowledged that God can and does act outside
the laws of nature, but that such miracles are a last resort: ‘We must
observe and consider, that The Course of Nature is truly the Will of
God; and as I may say, his first Will; from which we are not to recede,
but upon clear evidence and necessity’.33
Burnet’s work was known among the philosophical and scientif-
ic amateurs at Amsterdam. The Amsterdam author Willem Goeree
(1635–1711) used Burnet’s theory extensively in his Voor-bereidselen
tot de bybelsche wysheid of 1690.34 In 1695–1696, a Dutch translation
of Burnet’s Telluris theoria sacra, as well as his later Archaeologia phil-
osophica, was published. The translator is not mentioned but was in
all probability the Amsterdam merchant Ameldonk Blok. Blok was an
admirer of Spinoza and a friend of the German philosopher Ehren-
fried Walter von Tschirnhaus (1651–1708). Tschirnhaus was much
impressed by Burnet’s book and it was he, it seems, who encouraged
Blok to translate it. Blok undertook the work as a member of the lit-
erary society Nil Volentibus Arduum and he read several chapters in

its meetings, according to the minutes.35 Burnet found a few other
defenders. Apart from Goeree, who in 1705 defended him against the
charge of Spinozism, one could mention the naturalist Simon Schijn-
voet (1652–1727). It is probably no coincidence that both Goeree and
Schijnvoet counted among the few advocates of Bekker as well.36
It would seem that the book found admirers mainly among the rad-
ical fringe. The authors who after 1714 propagated a Newtonian phi-
losophy decidedly rejected it. Nieuwentijt would abstain from open
polemics and referred to Burnet’s work only for geographical infor-
mation. But he did criticize his ideas. One of the more conspicuous
elements of Burnet’s thought was his view of mountains as ugly and
useless deformities, which therefore could not have been part of God’s
original creation. In his view, God had created the world as a perfect-
ly round sphere and only the upheavals of the Deluge had brought 199
mountains and oceans into being. Nieuwentijt on the other hand
emphasized that mountains play an important part in water circula-
tion around the globe, causing the clouds to bring rain, and thereby
show the wisdom of the Creator’s original design. Consequently, he
refuted atheist philosophers who defended their materialist view on
the hypothesis
that so many and such amazing great Bodies as the Moun-

tains, are of no use at all; and who, if they had had the
fashioning of the Globe of the Earth, according to their
own Humours, they would have made it without them, and
would have given it a perfect round Figure, without the least
Inequalities.37
Some later authors expressly referred to Burnet. Jacob Odé refuted

Burnet’s work in his textbook on natural philosophy. He protested
that Burnet’s interpretation of the Flood went against the Bible.38 A
few years later, Johannes Lulofs, the later Leiden professor, defended
a thesis under Odé wherein he referred to Nieuwentijt’s explanation of
the use of mountains in a disputation which had a decidedly physico-
theological character. He expressly mentioned Burnet as the author
to be refuted.39 In general, eighteenth-century theories of the Earth
would prefer to take the Genesis account literally, even if they would
often describe it in scientific language. A major work in this respect
was Physica sacra by the Swiss scientist Johann Jacob Scheuchzer

(1672–1733), a monumental overview of physical elements in the Bible.
The lavishly illustrated, multi-volume work became quite popular and
saw a Dutch translation as well.40
One might easily overlook the relevance of the earlier debates
for the Newtonian position, as these were largely (and deliberate-
ly) ignored by the Newtonians themselves. The Newtonians claimed
that their stance was the simple and logical outcome of the true sci-
entific method. Experimental philosophy demanded that one would
not indulge in theological or metaphysical subtleties. So, they made
it appear as if there only was this debate between reasonable belief
and atheistic folly. To them, this was the only thing that really mat-
tered. Still, a closer look at the earlier debates may help us to under-
stand their position. Nieuwentijt offers a case in point. In his books,
200 he waged a campaign against ‘atheism’ (read Spinozism), which he
tried as far as possible to dissociate from existing philosophical and
theological debates. He made it a principle not to engage in debate

with other mainstream Christians. He carefully refrained (unlike many
Voetian theologians) from calling Cartesianism irreligious. Still, there
is no doubt that Nieuwentijt rejected the claims of Cartesian philoso-
phy, and that this partly shaped his ideas. Likewise, it appears obvious
that the Dutch Newtonians followed the consensus which had formed
over the interpretation of the Bible, that the Bible described supernat-
ural events which could not be measured by the yardstick of natural
philosophy, and that their apologetics was partly intended to give this
a scientific basis.
Conclusion
It has long been recognized that the eighteenth century saw a major
effort to harmonize the new science with traditional religious insights.
The new scientific worldview which had imposed itself in the seven-
teenth century was powerful and enticing. Still, people were not ready
to reject all aspects of the old worldview. Uneasiness emerged where
the new view of the world appeared to be contradicting vital elements
of the old. Spinoza was such a disturbing character exactly because he
pointed out such inconsistencies with unrelenting logic. What people
wanted was a science which respected the traditional elements of reli-
gion they still valued.
Historians have so far mostly studied the more philosophical aspects
of this harmonizing efforts, like the argument from design or the ques-
tion of materialism. But to contemporaries, the status of the Bible
probably even mattered more. The Bible was the central element in
Protestant religion and therewith a vital support of the social and mor-
al order. For eighteenth-century philosophers, the Bible was a perfect-
ly legitimate subject. Academic disputations discussed such ‘physical’
topics as the earthquake and darkness during the death of Christ, the
manna in the desert, and so on. This was perfectly legitimate as long
as the philosophers respected the biblical mysteries and by their use
of scientific language legitimized the miraculous, rather than refuted
it. Protests arose when science or philosophy tried to incorporate the
sphere of the religious altogether. It was felt that there was a domain
where the standards of the natural sciences could not be admitted. The
Bible was no longer a book about the real world, but a guarantee for the
existence of a realm beyond the world. 201
But, paradoxically, it was science which was used to define the
boundaries of this supernatural realm. It was with scientific arguments
that the wisdom of the Creator was demonstrated. It was Newton’s
science that taught that the world could not be explained from mere
mechanical causes, but needed the design of a divine intelligence. A
miracle was now foremost something that could not be explained sci-
entifically, as occurring outside the laws of nature. This strict sepa-
ration between a scientific and a religious sphere was a result of the
new philosophy of the seventeenth century. In earlier times, the bor-
der between the natural and the supernatural had often been rather
blurred.41 In the eighteenth century, nature was explained in a strictly
natural way, whereas religion was felt to be present only where such
natural explanations did not hold. An unexpected consequence was
that in the eighteenth century miracles and the miraculous, although
(or rather, because) they were no longer deemed to play any part in
actual life, played an increasingly important role in Christian apolo-
getics.42
Apparently, the ‘disenchantment of the world’ concerned not so
much the disappearance of the mystery altogether, but rather its
restriction to its own separate domain. This domain was well separat-
ed from day-to-day existence, but considered real nevertheless. Carte-
sian philosophy had created a new view of nature. It remained up to
the Newtonians to establish a corresponding idea of the supernatural.
Notes
The author thanks Cornelia Lambert for linguistic improvements.
1 For ‘Newtonianism’ in a European context, see J. Gascoigne, ‘Ideas of

nature: natural philosophy’, in: R. Porter (ed.), The Cambridge history of
science, Vol. IV, Eighteenth-century science (Cambridge 2003), pp. 285–
304; M. Feingold, The Newtonian moment. Isaac Newton and the making of
modern culture (New York, Oxford 2004); J. Israel, Enlightenment contest-
ed: philosophy, modernity, and the emancipation of man, 1670–1752 (Oxford
2006), pp. 201–222; B.J.T. Dobbs and M.C. Jacob, Newton and the culture of
Newtonianism (Atlantic Highlands, NJ 1995). A new volume on ‘the recep-
tion of Isaac Newton in Europe’ is presently being prepared by Helmut
Pulte and Scott Mandelbrote.
2 E. Jorink, ‘Honoring Sir Isaac, or, excorcising the ghost of Spinoza: some
remarks on the success of Newton in the Dutch Republic’, in: S. Ducheyne
202
(ed.), Future perspectives on Newton scholarship and the Newtonian legacy
in eighteenth-century science and philosophy (Brussel 2009), pp. 22–34;
E.G.E. van der Wall, ‘Newtonianism and religion in the Netherlands’, Stud-
ies in history and philosophy of science 35 (2004), pp. 493–514, a contribu-
tion to a special issue on Newtonianism. Similar factors were at work
elsewhere. For England, see in particular J. Gascoigne, ‘From Bentley to
the Victorians: the rise and fall of British Newtonian natural philosophy’,
Science in context 2 (1988), pp. 219–256.
3 R.H. Vermij, Secularisering en natuurwetenschap in de zeventiende en
achttiende eeuw: Bernard Nieuwentijt (Amsterdam 1991).
4 R.H. Vermij, ‘At the formation of the Newtonian philosophy: the case of
the Amsterdam mathematical amateurs’, British journal for the history of
science 36 (2003), pp. 183–200.
5 Ibidem, pp. 197–199. M. Evers, ‘Pro Newtone et religione: de receptie van
Newton en de Engelse fysicotheologen in de Bibliothèque Ancienne et
Moderne (1714–1727)’, Documentatieblad werkgroep achttiende eeuw 20
(1988), pp. 247–267.
6 On the tradition of Newtonianism at Dutch universities, see Henri Krop,
this volume. Further: C. de Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761),
een newtoniaans natuuronderzoeker (PhD thesis, Utrecht 1979); Willem
Jacob ’s Gravesande, Welzijn, wijsbegeerte en wetenschap, ed. C. de Pater
(Baarn 1988); Ad Maas, this volume; R.H. Vermij, The Calvinist Coperni-
cans: the reception of the new astronomy in the Dutch Republic, 1575–1750
(Amsterdam 2002), pp. 335–341.
7 Vermij, Secularisering en natuurwetenschap (note 3), pp. 115–120. H. Bots,
J.J.V.M. de Vet, ‘De fysico-theologie in het Journal Littéraire. Haagse jour-
nalisten ten strijde tegen het ongeloof ’, Documentatieblad werkgroep
achttiende eeuw 18 (1986), pp. 213–226.

8 Vermij, Calvinist Copernicans (note 6), pp. 344–347; R.H. Vermij, ‘Johannes
Lulofs als vertegenwoordiger van het newtonianisme in de Republiek’,
Gewina 22 (1999), pp. 136–150, on 140–141.
9 The classical study on this argument is H. Metzger, Attraction universelle
et religion naturelle chez quelques commentateurs anglais de Newton, 3 vols
(Paris 1938). For Le Clerc, see the literature mentioned in footnote 5. Jacob
Odé, Principia philosophia naturalis in usum scholarum privatarum con-
scripta, et captui studiosae juventutis accomodata I (Utrecht 1727), p. 61.
10 On Dutch physico-theology, see in particular R.H. Vermij, Secularisering
en natuurwetenschap (note 3); J. Bots, Tussen Descartes en Darwin. Geloof
en natuurwetenschap in de achttiende eeuw in Nederland (Assen 1972).
The connection between physico-theology and Newtonian philosophy in
England has been emphasized in N.C. Gillespie, ‘Natural history, natural
theology and social order: John Ray and the “Newtonian ideology”’, Jour-
nal for the history of biology 20 (1987), pp. 1–49. 203
11 Vermij, Secularisering en natuurwetenschap (note 3).
12 On the question of voluntarism and science, see especially J. Henry, ‘Vol-
untarist theology at the origins of modern science: a response to Peter
Harrison’, History of science 47 (2009), pp. 79–113. See also P. Harrison,
‘Voluntarism and the origin of modern science: a reply to John Henry’,
History of science 47 (2009), pp. 223–231.
13 J. Henry, ‘Metaphysics and the origins of modern science: Descartes and
the importance of laws of nature’, Early science and medicine 9 (2004),
pp. 73–114; esp. pp. 96–97. The article also conveniently summarizes the
earlier historiography on the laws of nature. See also L. Daston and M.
Stolleis (eds), Natural law and laws of nature in early modern Europe: juris-
prudence, theology, moral and natural philosophy (Aldershot 2008); R.H.
Vermij, ‘Een nieuw concept: de wetten der natuur’, in: F. Egmond, E. Jor-
ink and R.H. Vermij (eds), Kometen, monsters, muilezels. het veranderen-
de natuurbeeld en de natuurwetenschap in de zeventiende eeuw (Haarlem
1999), pp. 105–120; F. Steinle, ‘The amalgamation of a concept — laws of
nature in the new sciences’, in: F. Weinert (ed.), Laws of nature: essays on
the philosophical, scientific and historical dimensions (Berlin, New York
1995), pp. 316–368; L. Daston, ‘Wunder, Naturgesetze und die wissen-
schaftliche Revolution des 17. Jahrhunderts’, Jahrbuch der Akademie der
Wissenschaften in Göttingen (1991), pp. 99–122.
14 E. Zilsel, ‘The genesis of the concept of physical law’, in: D. Raven and
W. Krohn (eds), The social origins of modern science (Dordrecht, Boston,
London 2000), pp. 96–122, on 116.
15 B. Nieuwentijt, Het regt gebruik der wereltbeschouwingen, ter overtuiginge
van ongodisten en ongelovigen (Amsterdam 1715), pp. 752–826 and 827–
854. In John Chamberlayne’s (abridged) translation, The religious philos-
opher, or, the right use of contemplating the works of the Creator (London
1718), these are the 26th and 27th chapters, pp. 471–533 and 533–548
respectively.
16 Nieuwentijt, Regt gebruik (note 15), p. 777. My translation, as not included
in Chamberlayne’s (note 15); cf. pp. 486–487.
17 Nieuwentijt, Regt gebruik (note 15), p. 549. My translation, as not included
in Chamberlayne’s (note 15); cf. p. 658.
18 Nieuwentijt, Regt gebruik (note 15), p. 563. Partly translated in idem, Reli-
gious philosopher (note 15), p. 679.
19 See ’s Gravesande, Welzijn, wijsbegeerte en wetenschap (note 6), pp. 41–42.
20 P. van Musschenbroek, Beginselen der natuurkunde beschreven ten dienste
der landgenooten (Leiden 1736), p. 7 (my translation).
21 J. Israel, Radical Enlightenment: philosophy and the making of modernity,
1650–1750 (Oxford 2001), pp. 218–229 and 242–246.
22 See also R.H. Vermij, ‘Nature in defence of Scripture: physico-theology
204
and experimental philosophy in the work of Bernard Nieuwentijt’, in: K.
van Berkel and A. Vanderjagt (eds), The book of nature in early modern and
modern history (Leuven etc. 2006), pp. 83–96.
23 Vermij, Calvinist Copernicans (note 6), pp. 239–331. W. van Bunge, From
Stevin to Spinoza: an essay on philosophy in the seventeenth-century Dutch
Republic (Leiden 2001), pp. 74–93. See also R. Vermij, ‘The debate on the
motion of the Earth in the Dutch Republic in the 1650s’, in: J.M. van der
Meer and S. Mandelbrot (eds), Nature and Scripture in the Abrahamic reli-
gions: up to 1700, 2 vols (Leiden, Boston 2008), vol. 2, pp. 605–625. On the
place of the theory of the animal-machine in the debate, see R. Vermij,
‘Dieren als machines: een stok om de hond te slaan’, Groniek 126 (Sep-
tember 1994), pp. 50–63.
24 Israel, Radical Enlightenment (note 21), pp. 197–217; Van Bunge, From Ste-
vin to Spinoza (note 23), pp. 94–122.
25 W. van Bunge, ‘Balthasar Bekker’s Cartesian hermeneutics and the chal-
lenge of Spinozism’, British journal for the history of philosophy 1 (1993),
pp. 55–79; Israel, Radical Enlightenment (note 21), 375– 405; J. Israel, ‘The
Bekker controversies as a turning point in the history of Dutch culture
and thought’, Dutch crossing 20–21 (winter 1996), pp. 5–21; G.J. Stronks,
‘De betekenis van “De betoverde weereld” van Balthasar Bekker’, in: M.
Gijswijt-Hofstra and W. Frijhoff (eds), Nederland betoverd. toverij en hek-
serij van de veertiende tot in de twintigste eeuw (Amsterdam 1987), pp.
207–211.
26 J.W. Buisman, ‘Bekkers wraak. Balthasar Bekker (1634–1698), de accomo-
datietheorie en Nederlandse protestantse theologen 1750–1800’, Docu-
mentatieblad werkgroep achttiende eeuw 30 (1998), pp. 97–111.
27 B. Nieuwentijt, Gronden van zekerheid (Amsterdam 1720), pp. 403–405.
Cf. Vermij, Secularisering en natuurwetenschap (note 3), p. 122.
28 M. Evers, ‘Die “Orakel” von Antonius van Dale (1638–1708): eine Streit-
schrift’, Lias 8 (1981), pp. 225–267. For the witch of Endor, see pp. 229–233.
Van Dale was here influenced by Reginald Scott. On the witch of Endor
in biblical exegesis, see also F. Laplanche, ‘Dieu ou diable? Nécromancie
et théologie, de Calvin à Dom Calmet’, in: G. Demerson and B. Domp-
nier (eds), Les signes de Dieu aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles (Clermont-Ferrand
1993), pp. 57–63. On the disputes over Van Dale’s book, see Israel, Radical
Enlightenment (note 21), pp. 359–374.
29 Th. Burnet, The sacred theory of the Earth, ed. B. Willey (London-Fontwell
1965), p. 54. Willey follows the second English edition (1690–1691). The
English version is Burnet’s own, but he has reworked it from the Latin
original.
30 K. Magruder, ‘Thomas Burnet, Biblical idiom and seventeenth-century
theories of the Earth’, in: Van der Meer and Mandelbrote, Nature and
Scripture (note 23), pp. 451–490; S. Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Newton and
Thomas Burnet: biblical criticism and the crisis of late seventeenth-cen- 205
tury England’, in: J.E. Force and R.H. Popkin (eds), The books of nature and
Scripture (Dordrecht etc. 1994), pp. 149–178; R.H. Vermij, ‘The Flood and
the scientific revolution: Thomas Burnet’s system of natural providence’,
in: F. García Martínez and G.P. Luttikhuizen (eds), Interpretations of the
Flood (Leiden etc. 1998), pp. 150–166.
31 Th. Burnet, Telluris theoria sacra originem et mutationes generales orbis
nostri [...] complectens (Amsterdam 1694), p. 247.
32 Ibidem, p. 31 and Burnet, Sacred theory of the Earth (note 29), p. 89.
33 Burnet, Sacred theory of the Earth (note 29), p. 221.
34 [W. Goeree], Voor-bereidselen tot de bybelsche wysheid, en gebruik der
heilige en kerkelijke historien, 2 vols (Amsterdam 1690), vol. 2, passim.
35 R.H. Vermij, ‘Le spinozisme en Hollande: le cercle de Tschirnhaus’,
Cahiers Spinoza 6 (1991), pp. 145–168, on 161.
36 G.M. van de Roemer, De geschikte natuur. Theorieën over natuur en kunst
in de verzameling van zeldzaamheden van Simon Schijnvoet (1652–1727)
(PhD thesis, University of Amsterdam 2005), pp. 147–150.
37 Nieuwentijt, Regt gebruik (note 15), p. 415 (Beschouwing 20, section 44).
Chamberlayne’s translation (note 15), vol. 1, p. 495.
38 Odé, Principia philosophia naturalis (note 9), vol. 2, pp. 39–42. See also
the long discussion of Descartes’ cosmogony, ibidem, vol. 1, pp. 13–18.
39 J. Lulofs, auctor and respondens, Disputatio philosophica de causis, prop-
ter quas zona torrida est habitabilis (disp. Utrecht, 1729 Nov. 9), p. 18 (par.
10).
40 M. Kempe, Wissenschaft, Theologie, Aufklärung. Johann Jakob Scheuchzer
(1672–1733) und die Sintfluttheorie (Epfendorf 2003); I. Müsch, Geheiligte
Naturwissenschaft. Die Kupferbibel des Johann Jakob Scheuchzer (Göttin-
gen 2000).
41 S. Clark, ‘The scientific status of demonology’, in: B. Vickers (ed.), Occult

and scientific mentalities in the Renaissance (Cambridge 1984), pp. 351–
374.
42 R.M. Burns, The great debate on miracles: from Joseph Glanvill to David
Hume (Lewisburgh 1981).
206
Anti-Newtonianism and
Radical Enlightenment
JORDY GEERLINGS
In July 1745, a self-declared natural philosopher using the pseudonym 207

‘Chevalier Veridicus Nassaviensis’ was arrested in The Hague for pub-
ANT I - N E WTONI ANIS M AND R ADI C AL E NL I GH T E NME NT

lishing a blasphemous treatise called La découverte de la vérité, et le
monde détrompé a l’égard de la philosophie et de la religion. It was argua-
bly the most ferocious attack on Newtonian philosophy and organized
religion to be published in the Dutch Republic during the eighteenth
century. The author, who had also presented himself as Johann Kon-
rad Franz von Hatzfeld (1685–after 1751), had taken the risk of person-
ally presenting prominent men in the city with copies of this work and
was therefore soon caught. All copies of the book that could be found
were seized, although the archives are silent about the consignment
that was to be taken across the German border.1 Hatzfeld was taken to
the Voorpoorte prison in The Hague, where he was subjected to ques-
tioning. Despite Hatzfeld’s protests, the book was then found to be
blasphemous by an assembly of theologians, and the procureur gener-
aal (magistrate) thereupon sought to have Hatzfeld ‘confined for life’.
This was an unusually harsh punishment in the Dutch Republic, even
for heterodox writers, and it was only when the already aged Hatzfeld
started to display very believable signs of delusion that the authorities
took pity on him and downgraded his sentence to a permanent ban-
ishment from the provinces of Holland, Zeeland and West Friesland.2
On 24 January 1746, Hatzfeld was forced to witness the public burning
of his books, and let go afterwards.3
The prosecution of Hatzfeld was more than simply the end point
of a fascinating footnote in the history of anti-Newtonian thought.
On the contrary, his book caused a scandal within the Republic and
internationally, even implicating the Halle-based theologian Christian
Wolff (1679–1754), whose approbation of the work was prominently
but uninvitedly displayed on the title page. Thus, the case of Hatzfeld
raises questions about the significance of international connections
between radicals who in varying degrees were opposed to Newtoni-
anism, which may have been stronger than is usually supposed. The
development of Hatzfeld’s ideas within the context of these connec-
tions is equally of interest because it sheds more light on what drove
the acceptance of Radical Enlightenment thought for individual intel-
lectuals.
In the following, I will investigate how Hatzfeld built a Radical
Enlightenment worldview on the rejection of Newtonian thought,
while taking into account the role played by social factors, such as
208 dissatisfaction with a lowly social standing, the difficulties of making
one’s way in networks of patronage and contact with specific intel-
lectual circles. All of these factors contributed to what I would like

to call ‘radicalization’, the intellectual growth process towards radi-
cal thought which as such has rarely been described with such social
factors in mind. Also, I will examine how some of these same factors
limited the influence of Hatzfeld’s treatise on the discussion of New-
tonian ideas in the Dutch Republic. Finally, instead of repeating the
criticisms directed at Jonathan Israel for his excessive emphasis on
the doctrinal unity of the Radical Enlightenment and his tendency to
divorce intellectual history from its social context, I will attempt to
take a methodological middle ground that takes seriously Israel’s plea
for an integrated history4 based on the understanding that Enlighten-
ment thought evolved in a more or less dialectical fashion with social
and political factors.
The London period, 1723–1725

Little is known about Hatzfeld’s early life, other than that he came from
a Lutheran background and that he trained as a court servant.5 Some
time during the early 1720s, Hatzfeld moved to London, having served
as a valet de chambre in various noble households. During his time
in England he was not yet the radical critic of religion and political
power he would later become. Instead, his ambition was to become
a respected, indeed revered, ‘natural philosopher’. Although we can’t
be sure if he continued to be a court servant during this time, it is
clear that he had sufficient leisure to instruct himself in the sciences.

An important element of his learning process consisted of the exper-
iments conducted by Elias Bessler (1680–1745), who claimed to have
succeeded in building a machine capable of perpetual motion with-
out external assistance, but had remained controversial in spite of the
support of the Lord of Hesse Cassel. Hatzfeld believed he could outdo
Bessler by building his own version of the machine, which was to be
his first major scientific project, and in his opinion a ticket to an inter-
national reputation as a scientist.
By 1724, Hatzfeld had worked out plans for his wheel of perpetu-
al motion and felt sufficiently confident to show them to the public.
Desiring the presence of authoritative witnesses, he directed his atten-
tion to the Royal Society, where he intended to demonstrate the results
he had achieved with his machine. To this end, he sent at least three
letters to the society’s secretary, along with technical drawings and 209
explanations of how his wheel could sustain its independent move-

ment.6 Yet in spite of his repeated efforts, Hatzfeld was never allowed
to present his plans at the society. His letters show the bitterness he felt
after having been rejected. He complained furiously about the socie-
ty’s unwillingness to recognize the evident merits of his plans for the
machine. Adding to his bitterness was the fact that he had also been
rejected by Newton, who had refused to receive him when he turned
up at his doorstep. Hatzfeld fired off an angry letter to Newton, whose
intellectual merits he doubted profoundly, in which he boasted to
have already seen ‘more light in these matters’ than Newton had ever
done.7 He later claimed that he had defeated Newton several times by
confronting him in person with his errors concerning the nature of
light and matter.8 This claim remains unsubstantiated; Newton was
perhaps predictably unwilling to engage Hatzfeld in conversation.
As far as the rejection by the Royal Society is concerned, it is not
possible to draw a conclusive explanation from existing evidence, but
the fact that the prevailing opinion within the society rejected even the
theoretical possibility of a perpetuum mobile certainly worked against
Hatzfeld. An article in the Philosophical Transactions by Royal Soci-
ety member John Theophilus Desaguliers (1683–1744) on the subject
denied perpetual motion was possible and explained how the idea of
it was based on false principles, while casting doubt on the veracity of
Elias Bessler’s claims about his wheel,9 and he was by no means the only
one to state such views. Newton moreover presided over the session
of the Royal Society which considered and rejected one of Hatzfeld’s

letters,10 raising the possibility that Newton personally played a part in
blocking Hatzfeld’s attempts at intellectual recognition by the society.
The ageing Newton was becoming weary of Hatzfeld and other quar-
relsome continental philosophers. He confided in his correspondence
that he wished to see the end of these speculations.11 Thus, by the time
Hatzfeld took up the project of Bessler, many key London scientists
considered it outdated, even fantastical, making any recognition for
the perpetual motion machine virtually impossible.
The Case of the Learned (1724)

The construction of a perpetual motion machine was not the only sci-
entific pursuit in which Hatzfeld engaged during his time in London.
He was also developing his own theory of the physical world, complete
210 with metaphysical and religious underpinnings. In 1724, Hatzfeld went
on the attack by publishing a treatise, in which he defended his per-
petuum mobile project and offered his own worldview. Essentially, his
treatise was a comprehensive rejection of Newtonian science and its
implications in the fields of theology and metaphysics. Although most
of his criticism was directed at Newton himself, Hatzfeld also attacked
key Newtonians William Whiston (1667–1752) and Samuel Clarke
(1675–1725), as well as writers who, he believed, had published sim-
ilarly objectionable theories, such as the well-known doctor George
Cheyne (1671–1743).
The foremost objection Hatzfeld formulated against Newtonian
philosophy was that it constituted a metaphysical degradation to God
and man alike, by making the natural world dependent on constant
divine intervention in order to keep it working. Although Newton
had been characteristically reserved about expressing himself about
the role of God in his natural philosophy, and usually left it to oth-
ers to spell out the metaphysical consequences of his theories, he had
claimed that the preservation of motion in the universe and the main-
tenance of natural law and order depended constantly on the divine
will.12 In doing so, Hatzfeld believed, Newton and his supporters had
reduced God to a lowly engineer, condemned to perpetually patch
up an imperfectly constructed machine.13 Also, since Newton’s God
would only have created a natural world dependent on his constant
control because this gave him pleasure, he would have been even more
pleased to create and control the spiritual world, which would be an
even greater demonstration of divine power. Thus, Hatzfeld believed,

the Newtonian God must logically extend his control of the natural
world to the control of souls. Hatzfeld decried this thinking as ‘predes-
tinism’ because it deprived mankind of its ability to act freely, making
it impossible for humans to wilfully act for good or evil.14
The core of Hatzfeld’s criticisms is clearly reminiscent of Gottfried
Leibniz (1646–1716), and specifically of Leibniz’s correspondence with
Samuel Clarke, which had been in circulation since 1715, and had been
available in a French-English edition since 1717.15 For Hatzfeld, reading
this debate was a formative experience, from which he derived cate-
gories of thought that would continue to guide him for the rest of his
life. It informed him about the central problems concerning the meta-
physical implications of natural science, and provided principles with
which he could support his own worldview. Inspired by his reading,
Hatzfeld included a chapter in his treatise which defended Leibniz 211
against Clarke’s charge that his idea of a metaphysically independ-

ent natural universe removed providence from the world, because
it eliminated all divine influence on it. Hatzfeld, repeating Leibniz’s
own defence against the charge, attempted to explain that provi-
dence should be interpreted as God’s ability to foresee what would be
required for the maintenance of order in the world, and prearrange it
accordingly. God had endowed matter and nature with all the neces-
sary properties and laws for his creation to function without his inter-
vention, according to his ‘concept of pre-established order’.16
Hatzfeld’s alternative view of nature was designed to counter the
difficulties of Newtonianism by offering a comprehensively different
account for everything Newton had attempted to explain. First of all,
Hatzfeld believed that attraction and repulsion were inherent to mat-
ter, which necessarily existed in a plenum. He abhorred the supposi-
tion that a vacuum was possible in nature because it implied action
at a distance between particles, which seemed to support the idea
of direct divine intervention in the world. In this sense, Newtonian
theory should be considered contrary to the Bible, which clearly said
that God had created the world in six days, while Newton’s belief in
constant divine intervention seemed to imply that God had not com-
pletely finished his creation.17 Newton’s aether, too, was a concept to
be rejected. There was no evidence to prove its existence, and any sub-
stance of this kind would create resistance to the movement of the
planets. However subtle it might be, aether would eventually cause
enough resistance to stop the movement of the planets. Yet, as the

length of the years on Earth was showing no signs of decreasing, the
planets had to be moving at the same speed they had always done,
thus disproving the existence of the aetherial medium, or requiring
the unacceptable supposition of another act of divine intervention.18
Regarding the motion of planets, Newton had erred in other ways
as well. A solar system working according to the Newtonian notion
of gravity, Hatzfeld thought, would necessarily collapse: if the sun’s
attractive force were greater than the resisting force of the planets, it
would draw them into its centre and consume them. Newton and his
followers, as well as George Cheyne with his Philosophical Principles of
Religion (1715), had tried to counter this difficulty by positing that this
was precisely one of the points at which divine intervention manifest-
ed itself.19 This, of course, was unacceptable to Hatzfeld, who believed
212 that any configuration of gravitational force would produce a plane-
tary disaster dishonourable to God.20
Hatzfeld’s alternative explanation for the motion of planets

depended on the principle of fermentation, which by ‘violently agitat-
ing’ matter in the sun caused the sun to heat up, producing light but
also agitating the ‘particles’ of the nearby planets in such a way as to
provoke the contraction and extension of matter in the planets.21 This
would cause them to exhale vapours which acted on the air, produc-
ing motion. For Hatzfeld, the fact that the planets closest to the sun
moved faster than the others confirmed this thesis.22 The solar system
clearly subsisted because of a constant exchange of matter driven by
fermentation. How the planets could stay in orbit through fermenta-
tion remained unclear, however.
Fermentation as an account of movement in matter was never-
theless the centre point of Hatzfeld’s physical worldview. Contrary to
Newtonian physics, it allowed for an independent natural world that
worked in perfect harmony, revealing the foresight of its creator. New-
ton, on the contrary, was a disaster for science as well as religion. His
many mistaken presuppositions regarding the ‘machine of the world’
had hampered his experiments, leading to contradictory explanations
of what these experiments proved, and dangerous ideas about how
divine power influenced the workings of nature. Hatzfeld believed he
had provided a powerful counterargument, and fully expected that it
would bring down the Newtonian scientific edifice, along with its met-
aphysical implications.
Newton and his followers, however, appear to have ignored Hatz-

feld’s treatise entirely. In fact, The Case of the Learned seems to have
gone largely unnoticed in contemporary scientific discussions, even
though various London book auction catalogues carried the title from
the 1720s until as late as 1791,23 indicating that the book had found its
way into a fair number of English libraries. My research has thus far
discovered only one published response to it. This one response came
not from the well-known circle of Newtonians, but from James Sedg-
wick, an apothecary operating from Stratford-le-Bow to the east of
London, who knew of Hatzfeld’s work and even engaged with it in his
own writing. In 1725, Sedgwick referred to Hatzfeld in his A New Trea-
tise on Liquors,24 which was intended mainly to describe the effects of
alcoholic and other liquids on the human body, as well as to advise
on the treatment of the resulting problems. Hatzfeld and Sedgwick
shared a tendency to combine the chemical language of fermentation, 213
spirits and vapours with the traditional humoral analysis of the human

body. For both of them, fermentation was the main principle on which
the operation of living bodies, including human beings, depended. By
fermenting victuals in the stomach, and through the fermentability of
the blood, living beings were able to maintain their existence.25
On Liquors in fact appropriated many of the ideas found in The
Case of the Learned, sometimes without acknowledging its debt to
Hatzfeld. This connection with Sedgwick and his use of humours as
a tool to analyze the functioning of the human body indicate that the
description of Hatzfeld as a ‘Freidenker englisher Prägung, in der der
Deismus entwickelt wurde’26 needs to be augmented by emphasizing
Hatzfeld’s connections to humoral theory, chemistry and, to some
extent, materialism as described in Ann Thompson’s work on the
development of eighteenth-century materialism outside of the gen-
tlemanly Royal Society.27 Many of the natural philosophers Thompson
describes, such as Thomas Willis (1621–1675), employed evolving types
of humoral analysis, fermentation theory and chemical accounts of
matter to explain the physical world as well as the nature of the soul
and its connection to the human body. Hatzfeld’s vague ideas about
this connection, which described the soul as different from and above
the body, but still susceptible to the influence of humours and fermen-
tation,28 were not unprecedented in contemporary English thought,
especially insofar as it mixed the increasingly outdated humoralism
with mechanist and materialist accounts of the human body.29
Hatzfeld, then, may have been a vague, incoherent thinker, but he

had read widely to stake out a modestly deist worldview which reject-
ed direct divine intervention in the pre-established harmony of the
physical world and the soul, but simultaneously upheld the veracity
of revealed religion. He did not engage in the critiques of religion such
as those offered by John Toland (1670–1722) or Anthony Collins (1676–
1729), and as far as his views on the physical world were concerned, he
bore a much closer resemblance to the moderate English materialists
and Leibnizianism than to any form of early-eighteenth-century rad-
ical thought in England. Yet, in spite of his relatively moderate stance
in religious matters, it is clear that Hatzfeld’s intellectual agenda was
singularly incompatible with that of the Royal Society or any other
part of respectable mainstream academia in early-eighteenth-century
London. His support of Leibniz after the conclusion of the calculus
214 conflict, his espousal of the controversial perpetual motion project
and his comprehensive rejection of Newtonianism along with its
metaphysical underpinnings drove him to the fringes of contempo-

rary scientific discourse in London. His ideas were similarly at odds
with influential Latitudinarian positions, which relied on a synthesis
of natural religion buttressed by a Newtonian universe, built on the
constant agency of God as a guarantor of order and as a moral stand-
ard for a stable society.30 In addition to his problematic intellectual
identity, Hatzfeld’s bid for fame was frustrated by his impatience with
the ‘gentlemanly’ conventions according to which London’s learned
society functioned, as his repeated outbursts of anger showed.31 There
would be no breakthrough for him in London, but Hatzfeld was nev-
ertheless solidly convinced of his own merits as a scholar, and the
experience of rejection, which bitterly resounded in his letters and his
treatise, set him on the path towards ever more extreme convictions.
Radicalization and the anti-Newtonian miscalculation, 1741–1746

If little is known about his London period, the next stage of Hatzfeld’s
life is a mystery. At some point, he left London for the Continent, but
it is not clear exactly when he did so, or why. Jonathan Israel claims that
Hatzfeld left in 1725, after having been accused of espionage, and court
papers in The Hague confirm that Hatzfeld took mass at the Walloon
Church in The Hague in 1726.32 It was not until 1741 that Hatzfeld turned
up again. He was now in Berlin to seek an audience with King Freder-
ick of Prussia, but was apparently denied access to the royal court. We
can only speculate as to the circumstances of this refusal, but the stay in

Berlin was not a complete disaster. Hatzfeld was able to obtain letters of
recommendation to the well-known theologian Christian Wolff (1679–
1754), who was to play a crucial part in the development of Hatzfeld’s
second, more radical work. Wolff himself had only recently returned
to his post at Halle after an accusation of ‘atheism’ in 1721. His return
to Halle in 1740 had largely been due to Frederick the Great’s arrival to
power,33 which permitted a greater amount of latitude to reform-mind-
ed philosophers. However, in spite of royal backing and his accession to
the rectorate at his university, Wolff was still engaged in a long-standing
conflict with powerful Pietist factions, and even the charges of hetero-
doxy and atheism had not abated.
In fact, in cities like Halle, Leipzig, Gotha and Berlin, the term ‘Wolff-
ianism’ had come to include a variety of heterodox views on religion
and society. Students were thought to be especially susceptible to these 215
views, and many prospective academics were asked to first explain

their views on Wolffianism. The fears of Wolffian heterodoxy were not
entirely baseless, as research by Günter Mühlpfordt and, more recent-
ly, Martin Mulsow has shown. According to Mühlpfordt, the 1740s saw
the development of a ‘radikaler Wolffianismus’, or ‘left Wolffianism’,
which tended towards deism, the critique of religious traditions and
even social reform.34 Mulsow, in his research of learned networks in
eighteenth-century Germany, has drawn on Mühlpfordt’s work and
located radical Wolffianism primarily among student groups, espe-
cially in Leipzig, Halle and Gotha, where Theodor Ludwig Lau, Johann
Hein, Carl August Gebhardi and Christlob Mylius were among the most
prominent and active radicals.
Some of these radicals gravitated around the Aletophilenkreis,
founded by Wolffians Ernst Christoph Graf von Mantteuffel (1676–1749)
and Johann Gustav Reinbeck (1683–1741) in Berlin during 1736. This cir-
cle, the hub of which seems to have been Johann Christoph Gottsched
(1700–1766), tended towards a liberal Wolffian worldview, claiming to
love truth (aletophilia) as a polemical stance against orthodox theo-
logy, but without presenting a clear-cut alternative worldview. Thus,
the Aletophilenkreis included many conservative thinkers, while also
becoming a meeting place for radical Wolffians, many of whom were
university students. With Wolffian rationalist philosophy as their
starting point, these radicals criticized superstition, supernaturalism,
revealed religion and the veracity of the Bible, usually adopting deist
positions in the process.35 Needless to say, they opposed Pietism as

well as Lutheran orthodoxy, often publishing scandalous deist works
such as Der Vernünftige Freygeist and Betrachtungen über die Majestät
Gottes (both from 1743). It may therefore be said that Leipzig, where
Gottsched was based, was a significant centre of Enlightenment cri-
tique of religion at the middle of the eighteenth century.36 Hatzfeld
was heading straight for this city and the surrounding region, and I
submit that his subsequent encounter with important figures in the
Aletophilenkreis was a key stage in the radicalization of his thought.
Although Hatzfeld seems to have had some success in finding sup-
port for his new book in Leipzig, he initially struggled in Halle, where
he was repulsed by the Pietist and anti-Wolffian theologian Joachim
Lange (1670–1744), who wished to have nothing to do with his work.37
Hatzfeld also claimed to have been rejected in Berlin, for example by,
216 amongst others, Leonhard Euler (1707–1783), who had insisted that
Newton’s ideas were ‘pas touché’ by his plan for the new text.38
It was not until 1742 that Hatzfeld truly achieved his breakthrough
in Halle. In that year, Hatzfeld finally met Christian Wolff in that city,
after having travelled there from Berlin carrying a letter of recommen-
dation from as yet unknown sources. With surprising ease, Hatzfeld
obtained Wolff ’s ‘excellente Protection’39 for the new book as well as
some measure of access to Wolff ’s learned network. In fact, a recent
dissertation by Johannes Bronisch has found fascinating evidence
which proves that between 1742 and 1744, Hatzfeld stayed at the Leip-
zig residence of Von Manteuffel,40 whose salon had become a meeting
place for the city’s intellectuals.
While no recommendation from Wolff has been found, Bronisch
suspects that it is because of Wolff ’s connection to Manteuffel that
Hatzfeld was able to gain this protection. Bronisch has interpreted
Wolff ’s actions in favour of Hatzfeld as an attempt to create a ‘flanking
movement’ in support of his own work against the metaphysical impli-
cations of Cartesianism and Newtonianism,41 which, owing to the lan-
guage barrier, had not yet gained a foothold in the French-speaking
world. Accepting Hatzfeld’s proposal for a new book would have been
a strategic choice by Wolff, engaging a highly ambitious supporter to
say what he himself could not and gaining an ally in the continuing
Monadenstreit against prominent supporters of Newtonian philoso-
phy at the royal academy in Berlin, like Leonhard Euler. For Hatzfeld,
Wolff brought the advantages of intellectual protection and even
material support. Through Wolff, he could finally rise to fame and rec-
ognition, as well as defeat the philosophy of his enemy Newton.
These hopes were soon dashed, however, when it became clear that
Hatzfeld was not the ideal ally against Newtonian philosophy. Man-
teuffel had to ask Hatzfeld repeatedly to rework his harsh criticisms
of Newton in a more ordered, systematic manner, but was proving
unsuccessful in his attempts to moderate Hatzfeld’s characteristic
zeal.42 In 1744, Manteuffel even complained to Wolff that Hatzfeld was
‘incorrigible’.43 By this time, Manteuffel’s support for Hatzfeld was fal-
tering, and he was relieved to see Hatzfeld leave on foot for The Hague
with the intention of proceeding to London, after having spent a brief
period at court in Gotha.44 It is not clear what personally motivated
Hatzfeld to return to London, but it is possible that the tensions with
Manteuffel brought about his departure. Hatzfeld does not seem to
have severed his ties to Wolff, nor had he abandoned the project of 217
reworking and expanding his treatise of natural philosophy. He had

resolved to once again publish his ideas on these issues, this time
together with his newly acquired views on government and religion.
Placing the radical Hatzfeld

In 1745, having reached The Hague, and having ostensibly been pre-
vented by illness and bad weather from moving on to London,
Hatzfeld decided to publish his treatise in The Hague.45 The documen-
tary evidence in The Hague does not allow a careful reconstruction of
how much time he spent in the city, or where exactly he lived, but the
records do show that Hatzfeld had considerable difficulties in find-
ing a printer and bookseller willing to publish the treatise. In the end,
Pierre d’Hondt, a bookseller who later claimed to not to read French,
agreed to Hatzfeld’s request. However, he did so only after he had been
assured that the text did not violate any civil or religious laws, and that
Hatzfeld would take full responsibility for his text. The treatise, more-
over, was to be published at Hatzfeld’s own expense, presumably paid
out of his earnings from Leipzig.
Interestingly, the proofs were read by professor of mathematics and
fortifications Pierre Antoine de Saint-Hilaire (dates unknown) in The
Hague, who was connected with local Freemasons, and later became
prominent in the Loge de Juste.46 This would suggest that Hatzfeld
himself had connections with Masonic circles in The Hague, some of
which have been identified as centres of radical thought,47 and could
thus have given their support to the publication process. Men like Jean
Rousset de Missy (1686–1762) and others involved in the posthumous
publication of Spinoza’s works immediately spring to mind as likely
contacts in The Hague. The idea that Hatzfeld made such connections
is made more likely by the fact that Hatzfeld mentioned Lambert
Ignace Douxfils, a Commissioner of the Post in Brussels and impor-
tant colporteur of books for the pre-Masonic group called the Knights
of Jubilation, on his list of subscribers for La découverte.48 However, the
evidence is too scarce to establish anything more than the likelihood
that Hatzfeld did meet with freemasons and radicals in The Hague,
possibly even as early as 1726 upon his return from London.
La découverte, conversely, is a more solid basis on which to identify
Hatzfeld as a radical, because the persecution of the book was due to
its highly unorthodox views on religion, the Church and the princely
218 governments of Europe. Hatzfeld now challenged the historical verac-
ity of the Bible, denounced the oppressive superstition imposed by the
priests, denied the holiness of Christ and the existence of devils, and
rejected the possibility of miracles. Clearly, Hatzfeld’s ideas, which must
have originated in Leipzig, had begun to resemble those of the radi-
cal Spinozists in the Dutch Republic who continued to worry religious
authorities. However, in spite of this ideological convergence, Hatzfeld
never abandoned his staunchly deist belief in a God metaphysically dis-
tinct from and above Creation and continued to abhor any worldview
that confused the immaterial divine with nature.49
The text also included a meritocratic political agenda with a strongly
republican thrust. Even though this did not prevent him from seeking
princely support whenever he could, Hatzfeld found that the princes of
Europe and their selfish lackeys were responsible for misgovernment
and that they had prevented the rise to influence of more meritorious
men, as Hatzfeld believed himself to be. Moreover, governments must
not only be more meritocratic, but must also act in the interest of the
people from which any government derives its mandate. England and
the Dutch Republic were examples of states that embraced political
liberty, but they too were in danger if they did not contain the threat of
priestly deception and the abuse of secular authority.50
La découverte, therefore, contained many radical views against
which the authorities in The Hague would necessarily take offense.
However, the treatise also conveyed other messages. The pseudonym
Hatzfeld employed, for example, offers some interesting clues as to his
ideological motivations, the self-styling strategies he employed and

even his social background. In calling himself the ‘Chevalier Veridicus
Nassaviensis’, he referred to his Nassau origins, but it seems unlike-
ly that he was simultaneously displaying further political loyalties to
such parties as the House of Orange, about which he would very likely
have been quite vocal. Similarly, the use of the word ‘chevalier’ would
suggest that Hatzfeld was of noble descent, but the hearings conduct-
ed at the Voorpoorte prison revealed that Hatzfeld was in fact of com-
mon descent, and that his real name was ‘Harsveld’.
Clearly, Hatzfeld had changed his surname and added his middle
names,51 quite possibly to associate himself with the famous and pow-
erful aristocratic family of Hatzfeld, in an effort to give himself a more
noble appearance. His native Dillenburg was home to a branch of this
family, and there was a tendency there to change the surnames of fam-
ily branches that no longer had noble status by giving them a slight- 219
ly different spelling.52 ‘Hatzfeld’ could thus easily become ‘Harsfeld’,

making it likely that Hatzfeld attempted to cover up his real name in
order to claim this status, even though there may well have been no
family connection based on which he could legitimately do so. Never-
theless, the use of the name Hatzfeld seems to have worked a number
of times throughout his life, and some of the later commentators of La
découverte still believed Hatzfeld to be a ‘noble Saxon’.53
In using this pseudonym, Hatzfeld was clearly also claiming asso-
ciation with the Aletophilen, who described themselves with great
emphasis as ‘lovers of truth’. The title of his treatise, his pseudonym
‘Veridicus’ and his insistence on his ‘love of truth’ to the authorities
in The Hague54 all suggest that he counted himself among the Ale-
tophilen, and that this group must have exercised a considerable
measure of influence on Hatzfeld’s intellectual development towards
radicalism. This would explain how Hatzfeld acquired the ideas that
permitted him to form his radical critique of the European clergy,
the veracity of the Bible and the existence of the devil, none of which
naturally derived from the moderate deist natural philosophy of the
London period which still underpinned La découverte. However, the
journalists and theologians who commented on Hatzfeld’s book gen-
erally ignored the deeper implications of its title, limiting their cover-
age of it to its ‘blasphemous’ content and the claimed connection with
Christian Wolff, whose approbation of La découverte appeared on its
title page, no doubt to the surprise of many.
In Halle, Wolff was shocked to find his name associated with such
a scandalous treatise. He quickly denied any support for Hatzfeld’s
ideas, explaining that Hatzfeld had come to him seeking subscriptions
for a book on Cartesian and Newtonian philosophy.55 Wolff claimed to
have supported these plans only out of his desire to suppress contro-
versy, implying that Hatzfeld had lied about his intentions.56 Several
other publications by Wolff in the Bibliothèque germanique, the Acta
eruditorum, and the Bibliothèque raisonnée repeated these claims.
Wolff was very much concerned about his own reputation, quoting
extensively from his own published work to prove his philosophical
orthodoxy and dissociate his views from Hatzfeld’s.
Johannes Bronisch describes how Wolff activated his network of
correspondents to receive information on Hatzfeld’s book, which he
had not seen himself, and to disseminate his rejection of it.57 Von Man-
220 teuffel seems to have been most prominent in the effort to control the
damage of what Bronisch has aptly called the ‘anti-Newtonian mis-
calculation’,58 but others aided in these efforts as well. Samuel Koenig

(1712–1757), a prominent mathematician at the academy in Berlin, who
had experienced a personal confrontation with Hatzfeld there, helped
Wolff publish a French text against Hatzfeld in the Bibliothèque rai-
sonnée,59 which had already published a damning review of the book,
albeit without judging Wolff ’s involvement.60 Also, Pierre Moreau de
Maupertuis included Wolff ’s self-defence from the Acta eruditorum in
his Bibliothèque germanique. 61 In the next few years, the indignation
at Hatzfeld’s book extended as far from The Hague as Florence.62 It
also became known in Poland, whereas Jan Poszakowski (1684–1757),
a Jesuit abbot from Nieswicz closely allied to the influential Zaluski
noble family, announced a full refutation of Hatzfeld’s text, which also
claimed ‘le livre de M Hatzfeld est aussi ecrit en allemand’.63 However,
no translation has been found, and Poszakowski’s announced refuta-
tion has appeared only in a nineteenth-century bibliography of Jesuit
writings and has not been seen since.64
From the many theological responses to his book it is clear that
Hatzfeld quickly acquired international infamy as a ‘deist’, ‘freygeist’
(freethinker) and even a ‘cerveau brûlé’ (hothead). Contemporary
commentators were especially indignant about the Hatzfeld’s blas-
phemous ideas on religion, which in their perception completely
overshadowed his metaphysical and physical arguments. Although
the Bibliothèque raisonnée believed he had been ‘quelquefois assez
sage avec Wolff and Leibniz’,65 all other comments on the book were
scathing. In the eyes of Johann Georg Meusel (1743–1820), Hatzfeld had
joined the ranks of Simon Tissot de Patot, Pierre Bayle, Georg Schade
and Carl August Gebhardi, who had been branded as ‘deists’,66 and the
German theologian Johann von Mosheim (1693–1755) mentioned him
in the same breath with Voltaire and Lieutenant La Serre,67 the free-
thinker who was hanged for espionage during the siege of Maastricht
in 1748. Especially for German-speaking intellectuals, Hatzfeld had
become one of the most outrageous examples of irreligiosity in recent
times.
The scandalous nature of his treatise also put Hatzfeld well beyond
the intellectual agenda of moderate Dutch thinkers critical of New-
tonianism and its theological implications. The attempt to enlist the
support of Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande (1688–1742),68 who became
increasingly critical of Newtonian physico-theology towards the end 221
of his life, had been unsuccessful. Even the conflicts with the Royal

Society about the vis viva and the Leibniz-Newton controversy — in
which, according to Jonathan Israel, Dutch intellectuals like ’s Grave-
sande and Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761) crucially diverged
from Newtonianism on such issues as the externality of motion to
Fig. 1: Book burning, probably of Hatzfeld’s book.

matter69 — did not create sufficient conditions for an ideological con-

vergence between Hatzfeld and Dutch anti-Newtonians. Moreover, as
Michiel Wielema has demonstrated, the influence of Leibnizian-Wolf-
fian philosophy on Dutch thought did not begin to take effect untill
the later decades of the eighteenth century, as a result of Dutch trans-
lations of Leibniz and Wolff ’s works.70 Ideologically speaking, there-
fore, Hatzfeld seems to have been very much distinct and separate
from any segment of the Dutch intellectual landscape, in spite of his
likely connections with radical thinkers in The Hague. No overt sup-
port was forthcoming, and Hatzfeld disappeared into obscurity.
Conclusion: The origins of radicalism

As it evolved, Hatzfeld’s worldview intersected with a number of con-
temporary intellectual developments, including the Leibnizian-Wolf-
222 fian struggle against Newtonianism and the complex varieties of
Wolffian deism it generated,71 as well as replacement of humoral
accounts of the human body with theories drawn from chemistry and
materialist philosophy. Out of contemporary ideas, Hatzfeld creat-
ed a highly peculiar amalgam of Leibnizian metaphysics, mechanist
materialism, fermentation theory and deism, which although already
heterodox, did not reveal any necessary tendency towards radicalism
on the level of political and religious convictions. Rather than his rel-
atively modest natural philosophy, it was his frustrated ambition, his
status anxiety and his contacts with German freethinking circles and
perhaps even his impatience with contemporary academic mores that
were the driving forces behind his movement towards the radical cri-
tique of Christianity and absolutist government in Europe.
The case of Hatzfeld thus shows how strongly social factors could
impact on the persuasive force of Radical Enlightenment ideas on
individual readers. The communication of Radical Enlightenment
ideas was successful not merely because of the transmission of radical
texts or the semantic strength of radical positions in Enlightenment
debates: concerns about status, ambitions, frustrations and contact
with freethinking groups must have contributed in a highly significant
way to the acceptance of these ideas. Radicals criticized the institu-
tions of the ancien régime for personal as well as intellectual reasons,
and analyzed its imperfections according to their perception of their
own dreams and interests. Examining radicalization as it occurred
at the individual level may therefore be a useful contribution to our
understanding of how the radical strain of the Enlightenment spread,

and how those drawn to these ideas shaped their intellectual identi-
ties within a complex of social pressures, fears and hopes. Intellectual
history should also be a history of intellectuals.
Notes
1 Algemeen Rijksarchief, Hof van Holland, MS 5863 ‘Sententie 24 januari

1746’.
2 Algemeen Rijksarchief, Hof van Holland, MS 5454, ‘Eysch van den Avo-
caat Ficaal en Procureur’, 24 januari 1746.
3 Ibidem.
4 Jonathan Israel, Enlightenment contested: philosophy, modernity and the
emancipation of man, 1670–1752 (Oxford 2006), p. 23.
5 Algemeen Rijksarchief, Hof van Holland, MS 5454. 223
6 Royal Society Archives, ELH H3 124–126.

7 H.W. Turnbull, A. R. Hall and L. Tilling (eds), The correspondence of Isaac
Newton, 7 vols. (Cambridge 1959–1977), vol 7, nr. 1418.
8 J.C.F. von Hatzfeld, The case of the learned, represented according to the
merit of the ill progress hithereto made in the arts and sciences, chiefly in
philosophy, of which the author gives an entirely new system (London 1724),
pp. 82–83.
9 Philosophical transactions, giving some account of the present undertak-
ing, studies and labours of the ingenious in many considerable parts of the
world (1720–1721), vol. 31, pp. 234–239, esp. p. 234.
10 R. Westfall, Never at rest: a biography of sir Isaac Newton (Cambridge
1980), p. 811.
11 Ibidem, p. 811.
12 B.J. Teeter Dobbs and M.C. Jacob, Newton and the culture of Newtonianism
(New York 1995), p. 14.
13 Hatzfeld, Case of the learned (note 8), p. 25.
14 Ibidem, p. 20.
15 A collection of papers which passed between the late learned Mr Leibnitz
and Dr Clarke in the years 1715 and 1716 relating to the principles of philoso-
phy and religion (London 1717), pp. 1–46.
17 Ibidem, p. 39.
18 Ibidem, p. 111.
19 G. Cheyne, Philosophical principles of religion (London 1715), p. 187.
20 Hatzfeld, Case of the learned (note 8) p. 107.
21 Ibidem, p. 125.
22 Ibidem, p. 127.
23 A catalogue of books, comprehending many libraries, particularly that of

Robert Butler Esq, and a general officer, lately deceased, also the valua-
ble articles at the Pinelli Sale, intended for abroad (London 1791), p. 264.
An ECCO search yields thirteen catalogues mentioning The case of the
learned.
24 James Sedgwick, A new treatise on liquors: wherein the use and abuse of
wine, malt-drinks and water, &c. are particularly consider’d, in many dis-
eases, constitutions and ages (London 1725).
25 Ibidem, p. 160.
26 E. Tortarolo, ‘Ein Opfer der Zensur in Den Haag: Johann Conrad von
Hatzfeld,’ in: U.J. Schneider (ed.), Kultur der Kommunikation (Wiesbaden
2005), pp. 229–240, on 239.
27 A. Thompson, Bodies of thought: science, religion, and the soul in the early
Enlightenment (Oxford 2008).
224
29 N. Arikha, Bodies and tempers: a history of the humours (London 2007),
pp. 173–199.
30 M.C. Jacob, The Newtonians and the English Revolution, 1689–1720 (Ithaca,
London 1976).
31 S. Shapin, A social history of truth: civility and science in seventeenth-cen-
tury England (Chicago 1994).
32 Algemeen Rijksarchief, Hof van Holland, MS 5454, ‘Eysch van den Avo-
caat Ficaal en Procureur’, 24 januari 1746.
33 J. Israel, Radical Enlightenment: philosophy and the making of modernity
(Oxford 2001), p. 557.
34 G. Mühlpfordt, ‘Radikaler Wolffianismus: Zur Differenzierung und
Wirkung der Wolffschen Schule ab 1735’, in: W. Schneiders (ed.), Christian
Wolff 1679–1754: Interpretationen zu seiner Philosophie und deren Wirkung
(Hamburg 1979), pp. 237–253, on 242.
35 M. Mulsow, Freigeister im Gottsched-Kreis: Wolffianismus, studentische
Aktivitäten und Religionskritiek in Leipzig 1740–1745 (Berlin 2007), p. 38.
36 Ibidem, p. 11.
37 J. Bronisch, Der Mäzen der Aufklärung: Ernst Christoph von Manteuffel
und das Netzwerk des Wolffianismus (Berlin 2010), pp. 325–326.
38 J.C.F. Hatzfeld, La découverte de la verité et le monde détrompé a l’égard de
la philosophie et de la réligion, (The Hague 1745), p. 15.
39 Ibidem, p. 50.
40 Bronisch, Der Mäzen der Aufklärung (note 37), p. 327.
41 Ibidem, p. 326.
42 Ibidem, p. 328.
43 Ibidem, p. 330.
44 Ibidem, p. 333.
45 Hatzfeld, La découverte (note 38), p. lxvi.
46 M. Davies, ‘The Grand Lodge of Adoption, La Loge de Juste 1751, a short-

lived experiment in mixed Freemasonry or a victim of elegant exploita-
tion?’, in: A. Heidle and J. Snoek, (eds), Women’s agency and rituals in
mixed and female masonic orders (Leiden 2008), pp. 51–76, on 54.
47 See M.C. Jacob, The radical Enlightenment: pantheists, freemasons and
republicans (London 1981).
48 Ibidem, p. 172; Hatzfeld, La découverte (note 38), p. cxi.
49 Hatzfeld, La découverte (note 38), pp. 91 and 167–168.
50 For more on Hatzfeld’s political views, see Israel, Enlightenment contested
(note 4), pp. 338–340.
51 Nederlandsch gedenkboek of Europische Mercurius 57 (1746), pp. 114–116.
This periodical was aware of the proceedings of Hatzfeld’s trial and the
manner in which Hatzfeld had answered the questions put to him by
his interrogators. See also Algemeen Rijksarchief, Hof van Holland MS
5454/13/1.
52 L. Hatzfeld, ‘G. Hatzfeld von Dillenburg: Genesis einer nassauischen 225
Beamtenfamilie’, Nassauische Annalen 101 (1990), pp 59–89, on 81.
53 H. de Gregoire, Histoire des sectes religieuses (Paris 1845), p. 266.

54 Algemeen Rijksarchief, Hof van Holland MS 5454.1; Israel, Enlightenment
contested (note 4), p. 338.
55 Nova acta eruditorum, mensis novembris (Leipzig 1746), pp. 669–672, on
670.
56 Acta Historico-Ecclesiastica, oder gesammlete Nachrichten von den neu-
esten Kirchengeschichten 73 (Weimar 1749), pp. 447–448.
57 Bronisch, Der Mäzen der Aufklärung (note 37), p. 319.
58 Ibidem, p. 325.
59 Bibliothèque raisonnée, des ouvrages des savans de l’Europe 38–1 (1747), pp.
235–239.
60 Ibidem, 36 (1746), pp. 368–397.
61 Nouvelle bibliothèque germanique ou histoire littéraire (July-September
1746), pp. 189–201.
62 Novelle letterarie pubblicate in Firenze 7 (1747), pp. 731–733.
63 Bibliothèque anuelle et universelle 3 (1753), pp. 177–178.
64 P. Augustin and L. de Backer, Bibliothèque des écrivains de la Compagnie
de Jesus, 4 vols (Liège 1858), vol. 4, p. 596. The title of Poszakowski’s refuta-
tion is Censura libri ab Hatzfeldo perversae homine hoc titolo divulgati La
decouverte de la verité et le monde detrompé a l’égard de la philosophie
et de la réligion (place and date of publication unknown).
65 Bibliothèque raisonnée des ouvrages des sçavans de l’Europe 36 (1746), pp.
368–397, on 369.
66 J.G. Meusel, Historische Literatur für das Jahr 1784 (Erlangen 1784), pp. 293
and 296.
67 J.L. von Mosheim and G. Winkler, Vorlesungen über den Beweis der
Wahrheit und Göttlichkeit der christlichen Religion: Vorlesungen über den

zweiter Theil (Dresden 1784), pp. 334–336.
68 Israel, Enlightenment contested (note 4), p. 214.
69 Ibidem, p. 220.
70 M. Wielema, Ketters en verlichters: de invloed van het Spinozisme en Wolff-
ianisme op de Verlichting in gereformeerd Nederland (Amsterdam 1999),
pp. 121–131.
71 Israel, Radical Enlightenment (note 33), pp. 552–558.
226
Newtonianism at the Dutch Universities

during the Enlightenment
The teaching of ‘philosophy’ from ’s Gravesande
to Van Swinden
HENRI KROP
Introduction 227
In 1779 Jean Henri van Swinden (1747–1825), a leading late-eight-
NE WTONI ANI S M AT T H E D U TC H U N IV E RS I T I E S DU RI NG T HE EN LI G H TE N M E N T
eenth-century Dutch scientist and the rector of the Frisian University
at Franeker, on laying down his office delivered an address on New-
tonian philosophy.1 The argument of this huge text, which runs to
more than eighty pages, illustrates the fact that during the eighteenth
century Newtonianism at the Dutch universities had developed into
a full-fledged philosophical system, which at that time philosophers
and scientists put on a par with the preceding Cartesianism and its
contemporary rival system, Wolffianism. From the 1720s onwards
‘Newtonianism’ was generally taught at the universities of the Repub-
lic as an integrated and comprehensive philosophical system, which
besides natural philosophy also included logic and metaphysics.
Obviously, ‘Newtonianism’ is a problematic term and in this article no
attempts will be made to identify a general meaning, but merely the
‘Newtonianism’ taught by Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande (1666–1742) and
his followers at the Dutch universities will be dealt with.2
In his Philosophie der Aufklärung, E. Cassirer was one of the first
historians to give Newtonianism a significant place in the philosophy
of the Enlightenment, and his example was adopted by the famous
historian of Dutch philosophy, F. Sassen, albeit hesitantly.3 The devel-
opment of such an academic Newtonianism in the United Provinces
seems to be unique and is, for example, clearly opposed to the situa-
tion in Germany, where during the first half of the eighteenth centu-
ry Newtonianism was taken to be a set of merely mathematical and
physical doctrines. For example, Zedler’s Universallexicon in its entry

‘Newtonische philosophie’4 listed contemporary debates on questions
in these fields at random.5
In the Dutch Republic the philosophical Newtonianism supported
by the universities has to be distinguished from a more popular New-
tonianism of a markedly religious nature, which had the societies of
enlightened burghers as its institutional background.6 Apparently this
Newtonianism for some decades outlived the academic one and sur-
vived well into the nineteenth century. It is marked by its close alliance
with physico-theology and its openness to other philosophical ideas.
This popular Newtonianism even adopted Leibnizian themes.7 The
apparent split between two diverse forms of Newtonianism, a popu-
lar and an academic one, confirms M. Jacob’s recent observation: ‘In
the course of the eighteenth century, Newtonianism took a multitude
228 of forms’.8 This plurality of Newtonianisms was already recognized by
d’Alembert (1717–1783), who in his article ‘Newtonianisme, ou philo-
sophie Newtonienne’ distinguished no less than five meanings of the

term.9
The creator of academic Newtonianism in the Netherlands was the
Leiden professor Willem Jacob ’s Gravesande.10 In his many universi-
ty addresses, the preface to his manual of physics, Physices elementa
mathematica, experimentis confirmata, sive introductio ad philosophiam
Newtonianam (1720–1721),11 and his manual of philosophy, the Introduc-
tio ad philosophiam (1736), ’s Gravesande developed an open Newtoni-
anism which was spread by his pupils to most other universities of the
Republic: Utrecht — Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761),12 appoint-
ed in 1723; Franeker — Johannes Oosterdijk Schacht (1704–1792),
appointed in 1727; and Harderwijk — Johan Hendrik van Lom (1704–
1763),13 appointed in 1734. Nearly everywhere it replaced Cartesianism
as the framework for the teaching of philosophy. In the Netherlands
the University of Groningen was an exception in that it resisted the
general eighteenth-century Dutch tendency towards Newtonianism
by adopting Wolffianism together with the university’s German hinter-
land.14 The academic Newtonianism of the four other universities in the
United Provinces was open as well, because ’s Gravesande categorically
rejected a slavish imitation of the British scientist.15
Moreover, the particular nature of Dutch academic Newtonianism
appears from its attitude towards physico-theology. With good reason
Jonathan Israel observed that contrary to the Newtonians outside the
universities, ’s Gravesande ignored physico-theology, which attempted

to prove God’s existence and His attributes from the order of nature,
observed by the senses.16 With the exception of Van Musschenbroek
in his address De sapientia divina (1744), none of the major academic
Newtonians ever dealt with this hybrid of experimental physics and
theology.17 ’s Gravesande and his school realized that the empirical
knowledge of God and the divine attributes is pointless when trying
to prove the reliability of the senses and the viability of the empiri-
cal sciences and of the laws of nature. The justification of Newtonian
physics in such a manner is a vicious circle and would have been a
fallacy without any philosophical significance. Hence, ’s Gravesande
and his Newtonian school attempted to supply such a justification of
physics by means of the a priori science of metaphysics.
The argument of this article is that Newtonianism at the Dutch uni-
versities, or ‘Newtonian philosophy’, the term current in the eighteenth 229
century, was primarily conceived as a philosophical system. It does
not rely on the use of the word ‘philosophy’ in contemporary sources.
In the juxtaposition of disciplines in the teaching assignment of Van
Swinden, philosophy is apparently not to be taken in the traditional
sense of a master discipline covering all things divine and human.18
The word is here obviously used in the more specific meaning of phys-
ics. At that time this specific meaning of philosophy was rather cur-
rent and as late as the first half of the nineteenth century it remained
usual in the Netherlands to use the word in the sense of physics. In
an 1828 essay on the deplorable state of philosophy at the university,
after the split of the faculty of philosophy into a faculty of physics and
mathematics on the one hand and a faculty of humanities on the oth-
er, Jacob Nieuwenhuis (1777–1857), the Leiden professor of speculative
philosophy, drew attention to the fact that it was not the new faculty
of the humanities that inherited the name philosophy, but the new
faculty of mathematics and physics which popularly continued to be
called the faculty of philosophy.19 However, although the word philos-
ophy in the eighteenth-century phrase philosophia Newtoniana may
well mean physics, the fact remains that Van Swinden at Franeker and
the other Newtonian professors had to teach the whole of philosophy
and were forced to place their scientific activities within the context
of a full-fledged philosophical system. Therefore, at the Dutch univer-
sities Newtonianism had been more than a method of physics.20
In the outline of this academic Newtonianism, I will be mainly guid-
Fig. 1:
Title page of ’s Gravensande’s
manual
230
ed by the texts of Van Swinden’s academic addresses and his manual

of philosophy. Although in his philosophical writings he took no new
course, he more than other Newtonians tended to call all parts of his
philosophy ‘Newtonian’. Hence, his writings may be safely used to deal
with the particular nature of the Newtonian philosophical system
taught at the Dutch universities, which like other eighteenth-centu-
ry philosophical systems consisted of interrelated notions of meth-
od, epistemology and metaphysics. The first section will present an
outline of Van Swinden’s intellectual biography. Such an overview
will facilitate our understanding of the social and institutional back-
ground of Dutch academic Newtonianism. Van Swinden’s rectorial
address, the Oratio de philosophia Newtoniana, typifies the notions of
philosophical method (second section). The third second section will
deal with the epistemology at the basis of it. The fourth section will
discuss the Newtonian metaphysics that justifies this epistemology.
The final section will contain some remarks on the intellectual and
institutional context of this form of Newtonianism.
Life and works of Van Swinden (1746–1823)

Van Swinden was born in 1746 at The Hague.21 In 1763 he matriculated
as a law student at Leiden University, but also attended the philosophy
lectures of ’s Gravesande’s successor J.N.S. Allamand (1713–1787) and
the mathematical lessons of Johann Friedrich Hennert (1733–1813),

a pupil of Euler at Berlin, who ran a mathematical school at Leiden
and in 1764 was appointed professor of philosophy, mathematics and
astronomy at Utrecht University. On 12 June 1766 Van Swinden took his
philosophical degree by discussing the typical Newtonian topic of the
force of attraction. The first three of the theses appended to his disser-
tation summarize the basic principles of ’s Gravesande’s philosophy:
the metaphysical proof of God (thesis 1), the notion of moral necessity
of the will (thesis 2), and the dualistic epistemology (thesis 3).22 A year
later Van Swinden accepted a chair in Franeker, which covered philos-
ophy, logic and metaphysics. The philosophical interests Van Swinden
cultivated at Franeker, besides his many scientific pursuits, are appar-
ent from his Franeker inaugural address of 1767, which dealt with the
causes of error in philosophy.
For eighteen years, until 1785, Van Swinden remained a professor at 231
Franeker. His years spent there were a period of much original work
in the fields of electricity, magnetism, meteorology and the northern
lights. His strength lay in his internationally acclaimed observation-
al and experimental work. An impressive part of his activities is the
series of meteorological observations made during the years 1771–
1784, which in the first six years were done on an hourly basis. The
results of these observations were published in the journals of sever-
al scientific academies, sometimes in Latin and Dutch, but mostly in
French. In 1777 he together with Ch.A. Coulomb (1736–1806) received
a gold medal awarded by the Paris Academy of the Sciences for his
prize essay on magnetic needles. His teaching of physics resulted in a
manual entitled Positiones physicae and several disputations, dealing
for example with the elasticity of water and of air, the nature of fire,
electricity and the Leyden jar.
Van Swinden, however, taught philosophy as well. From 1767 till
1775, the year a budget cut of the university precluded their continu-
ation, eight disputations were published, which by their continuous
pagination were meant to form a manual of philosophy with the title
Cogitationes de variis philosophiae capitibus (Thoughts about Various
Chapters of Philosophy).
In 1785 the Amsterdam magistrate offered Van Swinden a professor-
ship at the Amsterdam Illustrious School. This chair not only covered
mathematics, physics and astronomy, but also metaphysics. Although
the Amsterdam Illustrious School (Athenaeum Illustre) was no univer-
sity, Van Swinden accepted, since he would earn a salary that was dou-
ble his Franeker wages. His inaugural address, De hypothesibus physicis
quomodo sint e mente Newtoni intelligendae, which referred to Newton
in the title, had no less than 111 pages in its printed form, but it dealt
with a special topic of Newtonian method already touched upon in the
Franeker rectorial address: the concept of hypothesis. Here he advanced
his conviction that Newton never denied the need for hypotheses in
physics. During his Amsterdam years Van Swinden did not publish on
philosophy again. Apparently at the Amsterdam Athenaeum, which,
being no university, in principle did not produce theologians, physi-
cians or lawyers, there was no longer a need to deal with the philosoph-
ical presuppositions of the sciences. In this respect he anticipated the
emancipation of the sciences from philosophy at the Dutch universi-
ties. After the 1795 Batavian revolution Van Swinden briefly became a
232 minister in the Batavian government. In 1808 he became president of
the Mathematical and Physical Department of the first Dutch national
Academy of Sciences, established by King Louis Napoleon. After the

Napoleonic era he was appointed councillor of state by King William I.
He died in 1823. The next year his library was sold. His collection gives
evidence of the wide range of the philosophical interests he entertained
besides his scientific endeavours. Van Swinden possessed books by Spi-
noza, Wolff, Kant — in Latin and the original German — and the Dutch
Kantians, P. van Hemert (1757–1825) and J. Kinker (1764–1845).23 Appar-
ently Van Swinden did not buy philosophical books published after the
first years of the nineteenth century.
The philosophical method

Basic to every philosophy are its notions on scientific method and
epistemology (dealt with in the next section). Van Swinden dealt with
his notions on method in his 1779 rectorial address on Newtonian
philosophy in Franeker. He began by observing that after the renais-
sance of the sciences in the sixteenth century many philosophers
and scholars flourished.24 Although many deserve our praise and
admiration on account of their teaching, ingenuity of mind and their
art of discovering new things, no man has to be extolled more than
Isaac Newton, Van Swinden concludes after two pages of academic
rhetoric.25 In order to confirm this view he quotes a verse taken from
Edmund Halley’s commendatory poem in the Principia (‘no mortal
may approach nearer to the gods’) and Herman Boerhaave’s lavish
laudation of Newton as ‘a man in whom Nature has revealed the acme

of human perspicacity’.26 The religious overtone in the Halley verse is
no literary device, for as Van Swinden underlined it was the ‘Supreme
Maker and Ruler’ who aimed at man’s blessedness by removing the
darkness and obscurity brought forth by scholasticism, which veiled
the face of nature, by sending Newton to restore natural philosophy.27
God elected Newton to accomplish the task which his predecessors
had begun. According to Van Swinden, Newton represented a crucial
moment in the history of God’s relations with mankind: ‘in order to
complete this work the divine providence generated Newton’.28 In this
view it was Newton who created the highway of philosophy by com-
bining the two previous roads taken by mankind. Some scholars fol-
lowed in the footsteps of Descartes and practised the mathematical
sciences (page 11), other scholars, such as Galileo, Toricelli, Boyle and
Mariotte, joined forces and created a complete ‘catalogue of the phe- 233
nomena’ (page 12). Through this dichotomy Van Swinden transforms
Newtonianism into a synthesis of all preceding thought by observing
that Newton combined the mathematics of the Cartesian tradition
with an empirical approach in natural philosophy. Hence, according
to Van Swinden, Newton’s greatness is due to the powers granted him
by God to transcend the limitations of rationalism and empiricism by
establishing a new method in philosophy.29 Newton’s successors all
followed in his footsteps and combined mathematics and observa-
tion, reason and experience, in the practise of natural philosophy. In
the second part of his address Van Swinden dealt with Newton’s sci-
entific achievements. However, in his argument he wanted to ignore
these accomplishments, together with Newton’s research in the fields
of chronometry, metaphysics and theology, since Newtonianism in his
view was primarily to be seen as a method, which complemented the
Wolffian notions on method (pages 39–40). Van Swinden reminded
his audience that exactly thirty years earlier his predecessor Samu-
el Koenig (1712–1752) had held his inaugural address by dealing with
the harmony between the Newtonian and Wolffian methods of philo-
sophizing. However, Van Swinden’s predecessor only dealt with the
Wolffian method and a second oration dealing with Newtonianism
remained an unfulfilled promise till Van Swinden undertook this task
(page 41).
According to Van Swinden — and many others — Newton described
his method in a nutshell in query 28, observing: ‘the main business
of natural philosophy is to argue from phenomena without feigning

hypotheses and to deduce causes from effects till we come to the very
first cause’.30 This observation implied three principles:
1. In natural things only claims are to be admitted which are

substantiated by empirical observation.
2. Most hypotheses are to be rejected; some, however, are to
be examined and applied.
3. It is all-important, after investigating the degrees of cer-
tainty of all our knowledge, to keep certain and uncertain
things apart.
The truth of the first methodological principle is obvious. If we ignore

this principle, Van Swinden states, then just like Descartes we arrive at
234 studying a factious universe instead of the universe created by God.31
However, we are unable to investigate many things by means of the
senses and these have to be examined by reason alone. The implica-

tion of this conclusion is that Newton — and Newtonianism — did not
attempt to reduce the whole of philosophy to mere experimental phi-
losophy. Experimental and rational philosophy should be combined
and a real marriage of experience and reason is to be aimed at.32 The
same programme was formulated by Van Swinden’s Wolffian prede-
cessor thirty years earlier and exemplifies the tendency of Dutch phi-
losophy during the eighteenth century to link the new experimental
sciences to a more general philosophical context of non-empirical
sciences. The consequence of the need felt both in the Newtonian and
Wolffian method to link empirical and intellectual knowledge is that
according to Van Swinden, Newton did admit hypotheses. The famous
‘hypotheses non fingo’ of the General scholium, therefore, only refers to
false or metaphysical hypotheses (page 48). Van Swinden’s bête noir is
in this respect Descartes who in the Principles of Philosophy I, 24, advo-
cated an utterly false method — verae scientiae adversa — by observing
that, as God is the cause of all things, it would be wise in philosophy to
attempt to explain natural phenomena by means of our knowledge of
God. The nefarious effect of this intermingling of metaphysics and the
empirical sciences had been that the French philosopher, by severing
the necessary link with experience and observation, led the sciences
into the field of fiction and error. In order to distinguish false ‘Carte-
sian’ from sensible ‘Newtonian’ hypotheses, Van Swinden once more
refers to the Queries (I quote from the English original, although as in

the previous quotation the Latin not exactly renders Newton’s words):
in natural philosophy the investigation of difficult things by

the method of analysis ought ever to precede the method
of composition. This method of analysis consists in mak-
ing experiments and observations and in drawing general
conclusions from them by induction and admitting of no
objections against the conclusions but such are as taken from
experiments or other certain truths.
Van Swinden’s reading of Newton is one of the better examples of cre-

ative hermeneutics, since the next (not quoted) sentence in Newton’s
text runs: ‘for hypotheses are not to be regarded in experimental phi-
losophy’.33 235
The last principle of the Newtonian method exhorts the philoso-
pher to respect the order of the sciences, which precludes the deduc-
tion of physics from metaphysics. Leibniz readily but erroneously
inferred from final causes and the general principles of metaphysics
how things in sensory reality should be. God’s wisdom, for example,
led him to deny the existence of the void (page 56), while Wolff argued
for the universality of mechanical explanations on account of God’s
power (page 60). Such arguments are pointless if they are not corrob-
orated by the phenomena. We may sum up Van Swinden’s argument as
follows: Newtonianism is a method which first of all presupposes the
epistemological need to link reason and observation, and which fol-
lows from the metaphysical dualism of bodies and minds (dealt with
in the following sections).
Newtonian epistemology: Oratio inauguralis de causis errorum

The new Franeker professor began his discourse by laying down the
two basic metaphysical principles of Dutch Newtonianism. Van Swin-
den established the first principle, namely of nature’s order, by observ-
ing that all human knowledge is based on Cartesian introspection.34
By contemplating our mind we become clearly and distinctly aware
that we are endowed with the powers to know the ultimate Truth and
the means to attain our happiness.35 Moreover, we know that in us
a ‘natural instinct’ exists aiming at our good and a reason enabling
us to know that good, although vice disturbs this natural order and
installs itself by false education and the imitation of false examples.

They cause immoderate appetites in our minds for honour and greed,
through unnatural passions.36 Hence, just as philosophers had done
from Plato and Aristotle onwards, Van Swinden believes that the sci-
ence of nature intrinsically possesses a moral significance. Moreover,
we acknowledge the all-embracing order in the universe. This meta-
physical notion of order constitutes the metaphysical base of the epis-
temology of Dutch Newtonianism and forms part of the natural law
tradition.
The second metaphysical principle advanced by Van Swinden is a
Cartesian dualism between mind and body. By contemplating our-
selves we know that on the one hand there are spiritual substances
existing eternally, unchangingly and acting freely, while on the hand
there are bodies, which are changeable, existing in time and deter-
236 mined by necessary causes.37
From this metaphysical dualism Van Swinden in a natural manner
deduces two general epistemological notions. One is a basic episte-

mological dualism. The material universe we know by observation
and the intelligible world by reason. The truth of our ideas of imma-
terial entities we assess in a Cartesian reflective manner by consid-
ering their intrinsic attributes of clearness and distinctness alone.
Hence in the sciences dealing with immaterial substances, such as
metaphysics and mathematics, we can rely on arguments which use
the geometrical method.38 These rational sciences, therefore, are in
principle exempt from error and dispute. Contrary to the physicists,
mathematicians readily accept each other’s inferences, and between
the mathematics of the ancients and the moderns there is a substan-
tial agreement. On the other hand, the knowledge of the bodily world
begins with the observation of phenomena. Only by using our senses
do we ascertain the truth of our ideas about bodies and their prop-
erties. The sole application of the a priori method of geometry in the
empirical science of physics resulted in ‘the monstrous doctrines of
Spinoza’s Ethics’.39 Other examples of philosophers who ignored this
epistemological dualism are Leibniz with his doctrine of monads
(page 18) and Descartes with his laws of motion (page 33), which are
deduced in an a priori manner from God’s attributes without consult-
ing the senses and without seeking confirmation by observation.
The second epistemological inference from his metaphysical dual-
ism is a limited ‘scepticism’, that is to say, the need to accept the limits
of human knowledge. Of certain phenomena we have mere empiri-

cal or factual knowledge, and we are unable to acquire full insight in
their causes.40 Our knowledge of the material world is basically of an
a posteriori nature and does not transcend the limits of the senses.
By contemplating ourselves we know that we consist of a mind and a
body, two distinct beings. At the same time experience teaches us that
although body and mind interact, how this interaction is produced
we do not know.41 Since Van Swinden hardly comments on this scepti-
cism, I turn to ’s Gravesande’s teachings. In the eighteenth century this
metaphysical theory of mind-body relation went by the name of influx-
us physicus and it was generally opposed to the doctrines of Cartesian
occasionalism and Leibnizian pre-established harmony. Although the
theory of bodily interaction rests on experience, it is inconsistent with
arguments that ’s Gravesande tends to consider irrefutable. ‘How can
a thing which is by no means material resist the action of a body?’42 237
More in general: we know bodies by the effects they produce on our
senses, that is to say the phenomena, but of their substantial nature we
have only a partial understanding.43 This scepticism in Van Swinden’s
epistemology may be derived from Locke.44 The British philosopher in
his famous Essay Concerning Human Understanding denied our having
any knowledge of the real essences of substances. Of substances we
can have no certain but only probable knowledge, or in Locke’s words,
opinion or belief. In the case of substances, Locke prefers the ‘histori-
cal, plain method’ to the geometrical method (Essay 1,2), but ’s Grave-
sande and Van Swinden did not share Locke’s preference.
What is more, Van Swinden’s scepticism resulted in the notion
of a discontinuity between metaphysics and physics, which under-
mined the Cartesian belief that philosophy or the encyclopaedia of
the sciences may be compared to a tree, the roots being metaphysics,
the trunk physics and the other sciences its branches.45 According to
Van Swinden, metaphysical principles applied in physics are regula-
tive ideas, if I may use this Kantian notion here anachronistically. The
so-called law of continuity, which states that natural phenomena give
evidence of a continuous sequence and which apparently directly fol-
lows from the metaphysical notion of the order of nature, for example,
the metaphysical law of continuity seems to preclude the existence
of perfectly solid bodies, which suddenly lose their velocity (page 33).
Such an abrupt change would mean an infraction of this metaphysical
principle. Hence, if we observe phenomena that apparently contradict
this law, we have to call into question the accuracy of the empirical
data. However, the adoption of metaphysical principles in empirical
science often leads to error. An example given by Van Swinden is the
Jesuit mathematician and philosopher R.G. Boscovitsch (1711–1787),
who used this principle to argue for the hypothesis that a body con-
sists of a series of mathematical points kept together by the force of
attraction (page 34). According to Van Swinden, such a theory is false
and its falsity is caused by the reckless use of principles which in them-
selves are true. On the other hand, the metaphysical law of simplicity
was used with good reason by Leibniz and Descartes to elucidate the
laws of light’s refraction by arguing that nature chooses the shortest
way in the shortest time and by P.L. de Maupertuis (1698–1759) in his
attempts to prove that the amount of action involved in all motion
remains constant (page 35). Such hypotheses agree with all physical
238 truths known to us. Van Swinden, therefore, accepts the heuristic
value of metaphysical principles, but in general the physicist should
refrain from using final causes to discover the laws of nature. Accord-
ing to the Calvinist Van Swinden, the metaphysical order remains to a
large extent unknown to our limited intellect.46 However, we do know
what is useful and required to attain our end in this life.
Cogitationes de variis philosophiae capitibus

The eight dissertations from Van Swinden’s Franeker period that made
up the Cogitationes de variis philosophiae capitibus develop the prin-
ciples that Van Swinden outlined in his inaugural address. It should
be noted that of the seven students who presented these disputations
compiled in a manual of the professor and published under his name,
as was usual at the premodern Dutch universities, four studied theol-
ogy, two were medical students and only one is recorded as a student
of ‘humanities and philosophy’.47 This fact reminds us of the prope-
deutic character of the teaching of philosophy and physics at the uni-
versities during the Enlightenment. Nearly all students ended their
educational career not as philosophers or scientists, but as lawyers,
ministers or physicians. The basis of Van Swinden’s manual is ’s Grave-
sande’s popular Introductio ad philosophiam, widely read in its eight
contemporary editions and its French and Dutch versions, which,
however, was modified at several points.48 For example, although both
philosophers began their manual with metaphysics, the Leiden phi-
losopher started with ontology, observing that metaphysics is useful
because it acquaints us with abstract ideas and so enables the mind to

be effective in the study of truth.49 However, Van Swinden began with
natural theology and the teleological order in the universe, a topic that
’s Gravesande only touched upon in the second logical part where he
dealt with the evidence of the senses.50 In the first dissertation (sub-
mitted by G. Coopmans, who in 1770 presented a physical thesis on the
winds, and afterwards became a professor of medicine), Van Swinden
observed that from ideas immediately present in our mind we nec-
essarily and a priori deduce the existence of an infinite and perfect
Being.51 Hence, according to metaphysics, every being possesses its
proper goal and as part of the whole of nature partakes in its com-
mon end. In order to reach this common end the relations between
the parts have to be fixed: the same causes should always have the
same effects, as Newton with good reason, Van Swinden observed,
recorded in his second rule.52 From this metaphysical premise, Van 239
Swinden infers the invariability of the laws of nature.53 However, due
to the limitations of our intellect, our knowledge of this metaphysical
order is only fragmentary.54 For example, we know that both in the
material and in the intelligible world all things happen in accordance
with the eternal decrees of God. Yet we are also certain that a will act-
ing in accordance with its own laws is free. How both certainties are
to be reconciled is a mystery.55 The same applies to the material world.
Bodies are apparently inert: without an external cause setting them
in motion they do not move. However, as far as we know attraction is
neither caused by an external cause, nor is an inner property of a body.
The first disputation ends by observing that miracles as such (that is,
with respect to God) are impossible. However, with respect to man, in
possession of a limited intellect only, they obviously occur.56 To quote
Van Swinden’s own example, the making of ice is a miracle to an Afri-
can, unless the natural laws, which are used in the production of ice,
are explained to him (page 18). Moreover, the common people often
consider miraculous natural phenomena, which the scientist fully
understands, thanks to his insight into the inflexible rules God uses to
govern the world. The limits of our understanding force us to accept
the fact that for us the universe will always be of miraculous nature. It
is this scepticism, which prevents Van Swinden from adopting a full-
fledged Spinozistic determinism. The universe is ruled by invariable
laws of nature determined by God, who by His unchanging nature
precluded the existence of miracles. However, our knowledge of God’s
nature is limited. Hence, Van Swinden did not adopt Nieuwentijt’s and
’s Gravesande’s voluntaristic view of natural laws.
The second disputation in Van Swinden’s manual was presented by
F.N. de Villepoix, a student of theology, and deals with logic. It focus-
es on the distinction between ideas ’s Gravesande made in chapters 6
and 13 of the second book of his Introductio. On the one hand, we know
ideas originating in the mind itself. Such ideas concern the determi-
nations of our will, our memory, the operations of our intellect, and
our passions. We may have an idea of a pain without knowing its cause
in our body.57 Our judgements consisting of such ideas are certain,
because the mind immediately perceives the relation between the
ideas involved. This direct evidence, according to Van Swinden and
’s Gravesande, results in mathematical certainty. On the other hand
there are ideas produced in the mind by means of the senses. Such
240 ideas denote an object in the material world outside the mind. Judge-
ments passed by means of such ideas possess moral certainty, which
may equal the certainty of mathematically evident judgements but

is indirect.58 The mind perceives the link between the combined ide-
as by using the senses — in observation or experiment, in analogy or
the testimony of others (page 28). ’s Gravesande’s distinction of these
three means was adopted by Van Swinden, but he noted that in fact
all three amounted to experience.59 Hence he summarizes his logic by
stating that reason and experience are the two sources of our knowl-
edge. Their relation was a basic theme that had engaged the minds
of Dutch philosophers since the final phase of Dutch Cartesianism.60
Moreover, Dutch Newtonians underlined the fact that both forms of
knowledge were of a scientific nature. Although empirical knowledge
is often merely probable, something in between perfect science and
ignorance, with the help of mathematics we can determine the precise
degree of probability of a judgement. Instead of the two short chapters
in ’s Gravesande’s Introductio, Van Swinden elaborates for some eighty
pages on mathematical probability. He stresses that the ars conjec-
turandi, the art of guessing, is a science as well, based on two meta-
physical principles: first, that the whole of the universe is governed
by unchanging laws, and second, the Leibnizian principle of sufficient
reason.61 From this point in the argument onwards, which continues
by dealing with error, method and syllogism, Van Swinden does not
follow the Introductio any longer.
He next discusses the order of the sciences and their epistemologi-
cal principles. ’s Gravesande had dealt with this important topic not in
his Introductio but in the address he had delivered in 1724 when resign-
ing as rector of Leiden University. Applying the distinction between
moral and mathematical evidence to the sciences, he sets those
sciences that are based upon rational ideas and use the geometrical
method apart from the empirical sciences. The first group consists of
mathematics, both pure and applied, logic, ontology, natural theology
and the universal principles of moral philosophy. The second group
consists of physics, history, Christian theology and social morality.
The ideas of these sciences denote objects in the material world exist-
ing outside the mind and are therefore of an empirical nature. Van
Swinden replaces ’s Gravesande’s clear-cut dichotomy with an ency-
clopaedia of the sciences containing many gradations. On the one
hand there is mathematics, the only rational and a priori science both
with respect to method and ideas; on the other hand there are the 241
historical sciences, which are empirical both with respect to method
and ideas. In this scheme the other sciences are placed in between.
Metaphysics, for example, is not a pure science, since its ideas of sub-
stance, mode, being and cause are learned by experience and only
afterwards abstracted by the intellect.62 Moreover, if metaphysics is to
be of any use it must be applied to and checked against the phenom-
Fig. 2:
The title page of Van Swinden’s
address.
ena observed by the senses. So this part of Van Swinden’s argument

restricts the significance of the rational sciences. On the other hand
Van Swinden seems to underline the rational element in the empirical
sciences by arguing for the use of mathematics in all natural scienc-
es, even in chemistry and biology. In conclusion, it might be observed
that the Cogitationes philosophicae does not contain substantially new
notions, but only develops the philosophical principles of the academ-
ic addresses.
The university context

At the end of this article outlining Dutch academic Newtonianism as
adopted by ’s Gravesande and his successors, some remarks will be
made in order to explain why Dutch Newtonians were not only sci-
entists but also philosophers. In the first place, Dutch scientists were
242 academics, working at a faculty of philosophy. The first scientific soci-
ety, the Hollandsche Maatschappij der Wetenschappen (Dutch Socie-
ty of Sciences) at Haarlem, was only established in 1752. The teaching

in the faculty of philosophy was general and propedeutic, most stu-
dents completing their education in the higher faculties, which gave
access to certain learned professions.63 Where in the modern universi-
ties the teaching aims at the training of experts in a particular branch
of learning, pre-modern universities continued to provide a general
education. This institutional context forced the professors of philoso-
phy, who in general had a broad teaching assignment not restricted to
physics, astronomy or mathematics, to include logic and metaphysics
in their teaching.
My second remark concerns the reading public of Dutch Newtonian
texts. The readers of scientific and philosophical texts produced at the
universities were either students or members of the so-called ‘learned
class’ who thanks to their education could read Latin. Latin remained
the official language of instruction at the Dutch universities well into
the nineteenth century.64 However, at the end of the eighteenth cen-
tury more and more scholarly literature was becoming available in
Dutch translations. Manuals, academic addresses and even dispu-
tations were often translated into Dutch. However, the reading pub-
lic basically remained the class of citizens with a broad cultural and
social interest, instead of experts who more naturally found their way
to the specialist dissertations and journals published by the learned
societies. This appears, for example, from the translation of Van Swin-
den’s manual of physics written during his Franeker period, the Posi-
tiones physicae and published in 1792. In the preface Van Swinden
observed that the translation aimed at young people eager to acquire
‘true learning’. Such learning had to be encyclopaedic, consisting of
belles-lettres, history, logic and the philosophical and mathematical
disciplines.65 Philosophy included the knowledge of God, of ourselves
and of nature.66 Physics, however, he observed, was seldom studied
by those who aimed at a specialised and intimate knowledge of some
particular subjects, but Van Swinden wrote for those not profession-
ally interested in physics.67 Such writing called for an overview of the
general principles of a particular science and an orderly treatment of
the subject matter.68 Hence even in his non-academic writing the sci-
entist Van Swinden had to be a philosopher as well. Apparently this
dual function of the professors of philosophy at the Dutch universities
during the eighteenth century stimulated Dutch academic Newtoni- 243
ans to develop a Newtonianism, which was both a scientific theory
and a philosophical system.
Notes
1 J.H. van Swinden, Oratio de philosophia Newtoniana, habita die VII Junii
MDCCLXXIX, quum magistratu academico abiret (Franeker 1779) [22], 82,
[13] pages.
2 Cf Vermij’s contribution to this volume.
3 F. Sassen, Geschiedenis van de wijsbegeerte in Nederland (Amsterdam
1959), pp. 218–222. Sassen preferred the designation ‘experimental phi-
losophy’ or ‘empiricism’, which, however, in his view on account of its
eclecticism lacked all philosophical depth. Cf my ‘Die niederländische
Newtonianismus’, in: H. Holzhey and V. Mudroch (eds), Grundriss der
Geschichte der Philosophie: die Philosophie des 18. Jahrhunderts, Vol. 2,
Grossbritannien und Nordamerika, Niederlande (Basel 2004), pp. 1094–
1112.
4 J.H. Zedler, Grosses vollständiges Universal Lexicon aller Wissenschaf-
ten und Künste, welche bißhero durch menschlichen Verstand und Witz
erfunden und verbessert worden (Halle and Leipzig 1731–1751), vol. 24,
coll. 413–416, 414: ‘so haben sich doch unter den Ausländer nicht wenige
gefunden welche den herrn Newton zwar für einen unstreitig großen Math-
ematicum von ersten Rang, aber nur für einen mittelmäßigen Philosophen
gehalten haben’.
5 Th. Ahnhert, ‘Newtonianism in early Enlightenment Germany, c. 1720 to
1750: metaphysics and the critique of dogmatic philosophy’, Studies in

history and philosophy of science 35 (2004), special issue on Newton and
Newtonianism (ed. S. Mandelbrote), pp. 471–491, on p. 482.
6 E. van der Wall, ‘Newtonianism and religion in the Netherlands’, Studies
in history and philosophy of science 35 (2004), special issue on Newton
and Newtonianism (ed. S. Mandelbrote) ( note 5), pp. 493–514.
7 Ibidem, p. 494.
8 M. Jacob, ‘Introduction’, in: J.E. Force and S. Hutton (eds), Newton and
Newtonianism: new studies (Dordrecht 2004), pp. ix-xvii, on p. xi.
9 D. Diderot and J. le Rond d’Alembert (eds), Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire
raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers (Paris 1751–1780), vol. 11, p.
1222; see I. Bernard Cohen, Franklin and Newton (Philadelphia 1956), pp.
179–183, and the ‘Introduction’ in: I. Bernard Cohen and G.E. Smith (eds),
The Cambridge companion to Newton (Cambridge 2002), pp. 29–31. See
also R.E. Schofield, ‘An evolutionary taxonomy of eighteenth-century
244
Newtonianisms’, Studies in eighteenth-century culture 7 (1978), pp. 175–
194.
10 Still the most basic study of his thought is G. Gori, La fondazione dell’es-
perienza in ’s Gravesande, pubblicazioni del Centro di studi del pensiero

filosofico del cinquecento e del seicento in relazione ai problemi della
scienza del Consiglo Nazionale delle ricerche Studi 2, Serie I (Florence
1972).
11 The title in the contemporary English translation by Desaguliers ran
Mathematical elements of natural philosophy, confirmed by experiments or
an introduction to Sir Isaac Newton’s philosophy (London 1720–1721). See
the contribution by Jorink and Zuidervaart in this volume.
12 C. de Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (1692–1761), een newtoniaans na-
tuuronderzoeker (PhD-thesis, Utrecht 1979).
13 H.A. Krop. ‘Tussen wetenschap en levensleer. de beoefening van de wijs-
begeerte aan de universiteit te Harderwijk’, in: J.A.H. Bots et al. (ed.), Het
Gelders Athene: bijdragen tot de geschiedenis van de Gelderse Universiteit
in Harderwijk (1648–1811) (Hilversum 2000), pp. 133–162, on 145–157.
14 M.J. Petry and M.R. Wielema, ‘Antonius Brugmans (1732–1789), bruggen-
bouwer in de filosofie’ and M.R. Wielema, ‘Nicolaus Engelhard (1696–
1765), de leibniz-wolffiaanse metafysica te Groningen’, in: H.A. Krop, J.A.
van Ruler and A.J. Vanderjagt (eds), Zeer kundige professoren: beoefening
van de filosofie in Groningen van 1614 tot 1996 (Hilversum 1997), pp. 135–147
and 149–161.
15 W.J. ’s Gravesande, ‘Monitum ad lectorem’, Physices elementa mathemat-
ica 2 vols (Leiden 1725), vol. 1, p. v. English version ‘To the reader’, Math-
ematical elements of natural philosophy, 2 vols (London 1737), vol. 1, p.
xi: ‘He only who in Physics reasons from the phaenomena, rejecting all
feign’d hypotheses, and pursues this method inviolably to the best of his
power, endeavours to follow the steps of Sir Isaac Newton, and very justly
declares that he is a Newtonian philosopher; and not he who implicitly
follows the opinion of any particular person.’
16 J. Israel, Enlightenment contested: philosophy, modernity and the emanci-
pation of man (1670–1752) (Oxford 2008), pp. 216–218.
17 De Pater, Musschenbroek (note 12), pp. 318–324.
18 Zedler, Universal Lexicon (note 4) vol 27, p. 2014, and Diderot and
d’Alembert (eds), Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné (note 9), vol. 12,
p. 512 s.v. ‘philosophie’.
19 J. Nieuwenhuis, Gedachten over het akademisch onderwijs der bespiege-
lende wijsbegeerte in het Koningrijk der Nederlanden (Leiden 1828), p. 27:
‘bij de wis- en natuurkundige faculteit, die zij [philosophy] heeft moeten ver-
laten, heeft zij haren naam als erftitel achtergelaten’.
20 E.G. Ruestow, Physics at seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Leiden. phi-
losophy and the new science in the university (The Hague 1973), p. 121, who
to that end quotes from ’s Gravesande’s Philosophiae Newtonianae insti- 245
tutiones: ‘we justifiably call Newtonian that philosophy in which hypoth-
eses having been rejected, conclusions are deduced from phenomena.
No one before Newton followed that method unremittingly.’ See also De
Pater, Petrus van Musschenbroek (note 12), ch. 3.
21 His biography in S.H.M. Galama, Het wijsgerig onderwijs aan de Hoge-
school te Franeker (1585–1811) (Franeker 1954), pp. 177–181; M. van Hoorn,
‘Jan Hendrik van Swinden (1746–1823), een gemeenebestgezind geleerde’,
in: J.H. van Swinden, Beschrijving van het Eijsinga-planetarium te Franeker
( fotomechanische herdruk van het oorspronkelijke werk uit 1851; Frane-
ker 1994), pp. ix-xxv; M. van Hoorn, ‘De gemeenebestgezindheid van Jan
Hendrik van Swinden (1746–1823)’, in: E.O.G. Haitsma Mulier et al. (eds),
Athenaeum Illustre, elf studies over de Amsterdamse Doorluchtige School
(1632–1877) (Amsterdam 1999), pp. 227–231. About his views on educa-
tional politics: B. Theunissen ‘Nut en nog eens nut’, wetenschapsbeelden
van Nederlandse natuuronderzoekers (1800–1900) (Hilversum 2000), pp.
13–36.
22 J.H. van Swinden, Dissertatio philosophica inauguralis, de attractione (Lei-
den 1766), p. 76 (between brackets the source in the writings of ’s Grave-
sande). The theses are: ‘Causarum effectuumque series infinata dari non
potest’ (cf. J.N.S. Allamand (ed.) Oeuvres philosophiques et mathématiques
de Mr. G.J. ’s Gravesande, 2 vols (Amsterdam 1774), vol. 2, p. 1. ‘Essai de
métaphysique’ 2, II, pp. 176–180) and ‘Actiones hominis liberae pendent
ab voluntate, voluntas ab judicio, judicium ab ideis’ (cf. G.J ’s Gravesande,
Introduction à la philosophie (Leiden 1737), part 1, ch. 12) and ‘Ideas seu
notiones omnes sensuum ac reflexionum acquirimus’ (Introduction à la
philosophie, part 2, ch. 19).
23 Catalogue des livres de la bibliothèque de feu Mr. Jean Henri van Swinden
(Amsterdam 1823). It is interesting to note that in the title of this cat-

alogue and in the avertissement, ‘philosophy’ is used unambiguously in
the modern sense, opposing it to the ‘sciences exactes’, ‘théologie’, ‘histoire
naturelle’, ‘chemie’, ‘belles lettres’ and ‘histoire naturelle’.
24 Van Swinden, Oratio de philosophia Newtoniana (note 1), p. 3: ‘a renatis
scientiis haud pauci floruerint philosophi, viri doctrina et ingenio emi-
nentes, et de republica litteraria optime meriti [...] novas veritatem inven-
iendi atque demonstrandi aperuerunt vias’.
25 Ibidem, p. 4: ‘nullus [...] honoribus dignior quam Isaacus Newton’.
26 Ibidem, p. 8: ‘natura ultimam posuisse videtur perspicientiae humanae me-
tam’ (a note refers to the Orat. de Chemia suos errores expurgente, in fine,
in: Boerhaave’s orations, trans. with introd. and notes by E. Kegel-Brink-
greve and A.M. Luyendijk-Elshout (Leiden 1983), p. 212, and: ‘Nec fas est
proprius mortali adtingere divos.’
27 Ibidem, Oratio de philosophia Newtoniana, p. 9: ‘Artifex et Gubernator
246
Deus’.
28 Ibidem, p. 14: [Newton] ‘ad hoc opus perficiendum Divina providentia sus-
citatum arbitror’.
29 Ibidem, p. 14: ‘nova et inaudita methodo’.

30 Ibidem, p. 43: ‘in rerum sc. proprietates diligenter inquirere, has experi-
mentis stabilire e phaenomenis vero arguere et ab effectis ratiocinatione
progredi ad causas donec ad causam omnium primam perveniamus’. Van
Swinden more or less conflates two sentences of Newton. One taken from
query 28 and the other from a Latin version of Philosophical Transactions,
nr. 85, p. 5014.
31 Ibidem, p. 45: ‘fictitium condere mundum in animo [...] non veram quem
Supremus rerum artifex creavit’.
32 Ibidem, p. 47: ‘multa denique quae scire interest ratione tantum intelligi
possunt’. Hence ‘by no means should we either forgo the rational scienc-
es, or pay them hardly any attention. We also do not take pride in the title
of empiricists’, but ‘ubivis experimentalis et rationalis philosophiae connu-
bium’. For the theme of the ‘connubium’, see my ‘Het moeizame einde van
een huwelijk (1687–1781), filosofen in de rol van een echtscheidingsadvo-
caat’, Gewina 30 (1987), pp. 230–246, with an English summary.
33 Van Swinden, Oratio de philosophia Newtoniana (note 1), p. 54: ‘methodum
analyticam, tamquam primum omnium nostrarum investigationum par-
tem commendat, jubet ut ex institutis experimentis observatis phaenomenis
conclusiones inductione inferamus’. He inaccurately quotes the last query
from the Latin version (published at Lausanne and Genève 1740, p. 329).
34 J.H. van Swinden, Oratio inauguralis De causis errorum in rebus philosoph-
icis (Franeker 1767), p. 3: ‘si quis mentis humanae attente perpendat’.
35 Ibidem, p. 4–5: ‘homines ad imaginem Dei esse confectos [...] eximias men-
tis faculates iis ad veritatem et felicitatem consequendum datas [...] instinc-
tu naturali Creatore optimo hominis indito’.

36 Ibidem, p. 6: ‘ex mentis facultatibus percipiendi, cogitandi, volendi, agendi
[...] patet, nil corporei ad mentis essentiam concurrere’.
37 Ibidem, p. 3: ‘homines partim suapte natura in pejus versa, partim prava
educatione partim aliorum exempla inducti. Hinc innumeri in vita insti-
tuendi errores, hinc indominati animi affectus, hinc pleraque vitia, hinc
omnes pravae hominum actiones’.
38 Ibidem, p. 13: ‘ideae perfectae [...] ab omni parte sunt clarae, distinctae,
adequatae [...] Hinc nullae inter mathematicos disputationes nullae pug-
nae, sed maxima potius stupenda fere inter veterum et recentiorum mathe-
maticorum placita concordia, egegrius inter ea consensus’.
39 Ibidem, p. 12: ‘Spinosae ethicam, quae licet mathematica methodo sic satis
concinne digesta, ideo tamen quod falsis notionum substantiae et attributi
definitionibus monstra dogmata produxit’. See also Vermij’s contribution
in this volume.
40 Ibidem, p. 13: ‘limita est mentis vis [...] vix posse ut homines ab errore sem- 247
per stent immunes’.
41 ’s Gravesande, Introduction à la philosophie (note 22), vol. 1, ch. 17, p. 36:
‘l’expérience est l’unique fondament de cette opinion.’
42 Ibidem, vol. 1, ch. 17, p. 37: ‘Mais ce qui n’est point materiel, peut-il résister
au Corps? Qui oserait advancer une pareille proposition?’
43 Ibidem, vol. 1, ch. 2, p. 4: ‘Les substances sont connues que par le moyen
de leurs attributes’ and more clearly in the preface of the Mathematical
elements (note 15), p. xi: ‘what substances are, is one of the things hidden
from us. We know, for instance, some of the properties of matter, but we
are absolutely ignorant, what subject they are inherent in.’
44 P. Schuurman, Ideas, mental faculties and method: the logic of ideas of Des-
cartes and Locke and its reception in the Dutch Republic (1630–1750) (Lei-
den 2004), pp. 137–148.
45 Van Swinden, Oratio inauguralis (note 34), p. 33: ‘omnia quae ex applica-
tione metaphysicae ad physicam redundant errores’.
46 Ibidem, p. 38: ‘nimium arcti sunt mentis limites quam ut semper ad scopum
Dei in hoc illove phaenomeno producendo assequari queamus’.
47 J.H. van Swinden, Cogitationes de variis philosophiae capitibus, quas [...]
praeside Johann. Henr. van Swinden [...] publico examini submittit G. Coop-
mans [et al.] (Franeker 1767–1775).
48 Gori, La fondazione dell’esperienza (note 10), pp. 134–154.
49 Allamand (ed.), Oeuvres philosophiques (note 22), vol. 2, p. 1.
50 Van Swinden, Cogitationes (note 47), p. 1: ‘Deus [...] entia creavit varia
determinatas partes agentia ad communem finem.’
51 Ibidem, p. 5: ‘Haec propositio ex ideis immediate menti praesentibus a pri-
ori deducta, necessario vera est.’ The order of nature may be deduced a
priori from God’s wisdom, Van Swinden continues, but it is difficult to
reconcile the doctrine of nature’s order a posteriori with ‘both moral and
physical evil’. This observation implies the pointlessness of physico-the-
ology. Experience might establish the order of nature at most imperfect-
ly.
52 Ibidem, p. 12: ‘Quae itaque effectus edunt prorsus eosdem, easdem quoque
habent causas, eandem habent naturam. [...] Haec regula eximia veroque
philosopho digna a summo Newtono fuit prolata.’
53 Ibidem, p. 16: ‘natura secundum constantes et determinatas agit leges’. Cf.
Vermij’s contribution to this volume.
54 Ibidem, p. 3: ‘mentis vis limitibus angustissimis circumscribitur’. Hence:
‘omnia probe cognoscere et perfecta habere nullius est aut hominis aut aeta-
tis’.
55 Ibidem, p. 7: ‘hujusmodi repugnantiae apparentes a sola mentis imbecilli-
tate oriundae non solum in mundo intellectuali occurunt, sed et in Physico’.
56 Ibidem, p. 20: ‘miracula nobis philosophis duplice sunt consideranda
248
modo, vel in relatione ad totam rerum in hoc universo existentium seriem et
creationis fines i.e. respectu Dei, vel in relatione ad illam seriei istius partem
quam cogniscomus et ad nosmet ipsos’.
57 Ibidem, p. 25: ‘alquando similis dolor adest, licet nullus acus nos pugnat.
Dolores sentimus, licet nullius causae externae actionem percipiamus’.
58 Ibidem, p. 30: ‘persuasionem aeque validam quam evidentia mathematica’.
59 Ibidem, p. 30: ‘reducantur ad unicum principium’.
60 Ibidem, p. 32: ‘rationem et experientiam esse sola omnium nostrarum cog-
nitionum fundamenta’.
61 Ibidem, p. 60: ‘universum constantibus legibus regi — nil fieri absque ratione
sufficiente’. Cf. p. 184: ‘haec conjectandi ars immensi est usus’.
62 Ibidem, p. 189: ‘ejus principia esse debent constituta ut absque errore singu-
lis entibus applicari possint’.
63 L. Roberts, ‘Going Dutch, situating science in the Dutch Enlightenment’,
in W. Clark, J. Golinkski and S. Schaffer (eds), The sciences in Enlightened
Europe (Chicago 1999), pp. 363–367; G. Wiesenfeldt, Leerer Raum in Min-
ervas Haus: experimentelle Naturlehre an der Universität Leiden, (1675–
1715) (Amsterdam 2002), ch. 5. Of the students who held disputations
under the Leiden professors B. de Volder (1643–1709) and W. Senguerd
(1646–1724), as far as facts about their career could be established, the
majority were theologians, who afterwards became ministers, while the
rest consisted equally of future physicians on the one hand and lawyers
and government officials on the other. He sums up (p. 253): ‘Von allen
Fächern, die an den Universitäten gelehrt wurden, war Philosophie das-
jenige, welches am wenigsten in Hinsicht auf eine zukünftige Berufstätigkeit
studiert werden konnte.’
64 This fact made the Republic an exception, as Van Swinden realized, and
restricted the usefulness of Dutch academic writing. J.H. van Swinden,
‘Voorrede van den schrijver’, Natuurkundige stellingen (Harderwijk 1792),

p. xi: ‘het aanhoudend gebruik van de oude schryveren’ and p. ix: ‘En ein-
delijk dat op buitenlandsche Akademien, het gebruik om alle wetenschap-
pen, zelfs de zodanige die rechtstreeks Latijnsche en Grieksche litteratuur
betreffen in de landstael te behandelen zo sterk was toegenomen, dat [...] de
tael alleen waer in dit werk geschreven is, het gebruik van het zelve zoude
beletten’.
65 Ibidem, p. vii: ‘fraeie letteren, de geschiedenissen, de oordeelkunde [...]
wiskundige en wijsgeerige wetenschappen’.
66 Ibidem, p. xii: ‘kennis van God en van ons zelven en van de natuur’.
67 Ibidem, p. xv: ‘zelden natuurkunde beoefenen om beroepshalven natuurkun-
dige te worden, maar alleen op een wijze, die alle geletterden past’.
68 Ibidem, p. xiv: ‘om de beginselen der Physische wetenschappen en konsten
te verstaen’.
249
Authors
Fokko Jan Dijksterhuis is associate professor in the history of sci-

ence and technology at the University of Twente. His main interest
is in early modern mathematical sciences with a particular focus on
optics. In 2004 he published Lenses & Waves. Christiaan Huygens and
the Mathematical Science of Optics in the Seventeenth Century. Current-
ly he is working on an NWO-VIDI project ‘The Uses of Mathematics in
the Dutch Republic’ that aims to develop a cultural historical perspec-
tive on mathematization in early modern science and technology.
Jordy Geerlings studied history at the Radboud University Nijmegen

and carried out various research duties for Utrecht University. Spe-
250 cializing in the social and intellectual history of the Enlightenment,
he is now a PhD candidate at the Radboud University, carrying out
the NWO-funded project ‘Enlightenment, Sociability and Catholicism:

Catholics in Dutch secular societies and masonic lodges, 1750–1800’.
Rob Iliffe is professor of intellectual history and history of science at

the University of Sussex and co-editor of the journal Annals of Science.
He has written a number of articles on early modern science, particu-
larly on the themes of early modern science, interactions between sci-
ence and religion, and the life and work of Isaac Newton.
Eric Jorink (PhD 2004, University of Groningen, cum laude) is a

researcher at the Huygens Institute for the History of the Netherlands
(Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences). He has largely pub-
lished on early modern scientific culture, including Reading the Book
of Nature in the Dutch Golden Age, 1575–1715 (Leiden: Brill 2010) and,
together with Dirk van Miert, Isaac Vossius (1618–1689) between Science
and Scholarship (Leiden: Brill 2012). He is currently writing a biogra-
phy of the Dutch microscopist Johannes Swammerdam (1637–1680).
Rina Knoeff works at the University of Groningen on a project sup-

ported by the Dutch Research Council (NWO) on the chemistry and
medicine of Herman Boerhaave’s Dutch pupils. She focuses in par-
ticular on the neurology of the Boerhaave school. She has recently
finished a research project on the historical anatomical collections of
Leiden University. She is author of Herman Boerhaave (1668–1738). Cal-

vinist Chemist and Physician (Amsterdam: Edita KNAW, 2002) and of
numerous articles in the history of early modern medicine.
Henri A. Krop studied philosophy and theology at Leiden University.

Since 1988 he has taught the history of philosophy at the Faculty of
Philosophy of the Erasmus University in Rotterdam. His publications
include an outline of Dutch eighteenth-century philosophy, an anno-
tated Dutch translation of Spinoza’s Ethics, and several entries in the
Dictionary of 17th and 18th-Century Dutch Philosophers.
Ad Maas is a curator at Museum Boerhaave. He has published on

Dutch physics (1850–1945), Albert Einstein, Dutch scientific culture
(1750–1900), Museum Boerhaave and scientists in World War II.
251
Kees de Pater is a historian of science and has worked as an associate
AU T H ORS
professor at the Free University of Amsterdam and Utrecht Universi-
ty. In 1979, he obtained his doctorate with a PhD-thesis about Petrus
van Musschenbroek: Petrus Van Musschenbroek (1692–1761), een newto-
niaans natuuronderzoeker.
Rienk Vermij took his PhD at the Institute for the History of Science
at Utrecht University in 1991 and has worked at several places since
then. He is currently an associate professor in the department of the
history of science at the University of Oklahoma. Among his books is
The Calvinist Copernicans. The Reception of the New Astronomy in the
Dutch Republic, 1575–1750 (Amsterdam: Edita KNAW, 2002).
Huib J. Zuidervaart obtained a PhD in the History of Science at

Utrecht University in 1999 with a dissertation on the history of astron-
omy in the eighteenth-century Dutch Republic. Currently he is work-
ing as a historian of science at the Huygens Institute for the History
of the Netherlands in The Hague, a branch of the Royal Netherlands
Academy of Arts and Sciences (KNAW). His main field of research is
the history of physics and astronomy in early modern Europe, with
a focus on the history of scientific instruments and collections. He is
also the editor-in-chief of the Belgian-Dutch journal for the history of
science and universities Studium.
Index
Aa, Pieter van der 21-2 Brunel, Pierre 56

Akkerman, Nadine 12 Bucqoy, Jacob de 63
Albinus, Bernard Siegfried 95, Burman, Frans 53
105-06 Burnet, Gilbert 69, 72, 122, 124
Alembert, Jean le Rond d’ 228 Burnet, Thomas 197-99
Alexandre, Henry 124 Burnet, William 121-22, 124
Allamand, Jean Nicolas Sébastien Burton, William 94
33, 47, 118, 122-23, 131, 230
Andala, Ruardus 32 Camper, Petrus 47, 144
Arbuthnot, John 188 Cassegrain, Laurent 52
Aristotle 17-8, 236 Cassini, Jean-Dominique 69
252 Cassirer, Ernst 227
Bacon, Francis 18, 45, 145 Castillon, Jean François Salvemini
Bayle, Pierre 18, 25, 45, 69, 221 de 46

Bedford, Duke of 85 Chamberlayne, John 23, 37
Bekker, Balthasar 196-97, 199 Charles VI 120
Bentinck, Anna Margaretha 120 Cheyne, George 22, 26, 31, 165, 169,
Bentinck, Hans Willem 120 187, 189, 210, 212
Berkel, Klaas van 13 Chouet, John-Robert 68, 72
Bernard, Jacques 59, 123 Clairaut, Alexis-Claude 63
Bernoulli, Johann 46, 76, 122, 167 Clarke, Samuel 25, 28, 55, 57, 117,
Bessler, Elias 209-10 189, 210-11
Beyrie, Herr de 85 Clerc, Jean le 24-6, 28-32, 36-7, 48,
Blok, Ameldonk 175, 198 55, 164-65, 167-69, 175, 187-88
Blon, Jacob Christoph 163, 165-66 Cocceius, Johannes 16, 195
Boë Sylvius, Francis de le 15 Cohen, I.B. 90
Boerhaave, Herman 10, 11, 13, 15, Colerus, Johannes 19
28, 32-3, 39, 47-8, 65, 93-110, 140, Collins, Anthony 214
144-45, 151, 159-60, 232, 251 Condorcet, Nicolas de 146
Bois, Godefridus du 46 Coopmans, G. 239
Boissy, Jean-François de 154 Copernicus, Nicolaus 17
Bonet, Théophile 55 Coste, Pierre 37-8
Boscovitsch, R.G. 238 Cotes, Roger 25-6, 30, 32, 188, 191
Boyle, Robert 20-1, 69-72, 76, 79, Coulomb, Charles-Augustin
132, 144, 150, 152, 173-75, 189, 233 de 148, 231
Bronisch, Johannes 216, 220 Coup, Pieter le 56
Brown, Theodore 102, 108 Cowper, William 106
Cullen, William 93, 107 Fatio de Duiller, Nicolas 12, 20,

67-88, 91
Dale, Antoni van 197 Fenil, Count 69
Derham, William 26, 29, 37, 47 Frederick of Prussia 214-15
Desaguliers, Carel Hendrik 62 Frederik Hendrik 118
Desaguliers, Henri 61-2 Freind, John 151
Desaguliers, John Theophilus 14, Funkenstein, Amos 190
35, 37-8, 40-2, 58, 60-1, 121, 141, Furly, Benjamin 22
174, 176, 209
Desbordes, Jacques 56-7, 62 Galen 111
Descartes, René 10, 17-8, 24-6, Galet, Georgium 55
31-2, 37, 47, 49, 51, 98, 109, 115, Galileo, Galileo 233
127, 129, 143, 148-49, 151, 165, 169, Gallois, Jean 19
174-75, 186, 190-92, 197-98, 233-34, Gassendi, Pierre 151
236, 238 Gebhardi, Carl August 215, 221 253
Dijksterhuis, Fokko Jan 9, 25, 37, Geerlings, Jordy 11, 207, 250
I NDE X
50, 129, 134, 159, 187, 250 George I 120
Douxfils, Lambert Ignace 218 Goeree, Willem 198-99
Drummond, J. 120 Gottsched, Johann
Dupré, Sven 15 Christoph 215-16
Duyvenvoorde, Arent van, zie Graaf, Reinier de 109
Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde, Grand, Antoine le 55
Arent Gravesande, Willem Jacob ’s 10-11,
Duyvenvoorde, Brilanus van, zie 13-14, 28-31, 33-37, 39, 41-42,
Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde, 45-48, 57, 59, 64, 93, 113-19, 121-34,
Brilanus 136, 139-46, 149, 151-54, 159-60,
164, 168, 174-76, 187-89, 192, 221,
Eeghen, I. van 56 227-31, 237-42
Effen, Justus van 29, 121, 125-26, 131 Gregory, David 22, 52, 78-9, 84, 86,
Einstein, Albert 48 187
Elsevier, Daniel 55
Engelhard, Nicolaus 46 Haller, Albrecht von 94, 107
Euler, Leonhard 47, 216, 231 Halley, Edmund 43-4, 53, 74, 79,
Evelyn, John 79 232-33
Evers, Meindert 28 Hampden, John 71-5
Hansteen, Christopher 148
Fahrenheit, Daniel 9, 39, 159-160, Hartsoeker, Nicolas 125, 169, 175
167-76 Harvey, William 17
Fatio de Duiller, Hatzfeld, Johann Konrad Franz
Jean-Christophe 75 von 11, 207-22
Hatzfeld, G. 255 Kinker, J. 232

Hauksbee, Francis 147 Klinkenberg, Dirk 44, 63
Hein, Johann 215 Knoeff, Rina 10, 25, 32, 93, 140, 251
Helmont, Jan Baptista van 98 Koenig, Samuel 46, 220, 233
Hemsterhuis, Frans 48 Krop, Henri 10, 227, 251
Hennert, Johann Friedrich 46, 63,
231 Lange, Joachim 216
Henry, John 190 Lambert, Cornelia 202
Hippocrates 95, 111 Langman, Pete 12
Hondt, Pierre d’ 217 Lau, Theodor Ludwig 215
Honoré, Francois l’ 56 Leeuwenhoek, Antoni van 86
Hoog, Adriaan Cornelis de 127 Leibniz, Gottfried 12, 22, 28, 46,
Hooke, Robert 20 57, 68-9, 76-8, 80-1, 83-5, 87-8, 116,
Hôpital, Marquis de l’ 76, 83-4, 87 143, 168, 171-3, 189, 211, 214, 221-22,
254 Hudde, Johannes 20, 53 235-36, 238
Humbert, Pierre 38, 56 Limborch, Hendrik van 163, 166
Huygens, Christiaan 12, 17, 19-21, Locke, John 22, 24-5, 38, 48, 65, 79,
67-88, 171, 174 126, 237
Huygens, Constantijn jr. 72-4, 80, Lom, Johan Hendrik van 45, 228
85 Loon, Abraham van 37, 60
Huygens, Constantijn sr. 89 Lorme, Jean-Louis de 29, 55
Louis Napoleon 232
Iliffe, Rob 12, 20 67, 250 Lufneu, Jacques 37, 60
Israel, Jonathan 113, 131, 208, 214, Lulofs, Johannes 47, 143, 189, 199
221, 228 Lüthy, Christoph 15
James II 122 Maas, Ad 7, 11, 29, 113, 251

Jeune, J. le (nickname for Daniel Maizeaux, Pierre des 28, 56-7
Elsevier) 55 Makreel, Jacob 22
Johnson, Thomas 28-9, 125 Mandelbrote, Scott 89
Joncourt, Elie de 46, 59 Mantteuffel, Ernst Christoph, Graf
Jongeling, Bas 154 von 215
Jorink, Eric 8, 13, 129, 250 Marchand, Prosper 124-25
Mariotte, Edme 233
Kant, Immanuel 232 Maupertuis, Pierre Louis Moreau
Kate, Lambert ten 9, 22, 28, 31-2, de 46, 220, 238
36-7, 39, 129, 159-69, 172-73, 175-77, Meusel, Johann Georg 221
187, 189 Mey, Johannes de 60
Keill, James 35, 57, 105 Meyer, Lodewijk 195
Keill, John 149 Moens, Petronella 48
Mollem, David van 60 Picard, Jean 167

Monros, Count of 81, 84 Pitcairn, Archibald 21
Mort, Jacobus le 21, 136 Plato 81, 236
Mosheim, Johann von 221 Ploos van Amstel, Cornelis 177
Mühlpfordt, Günther 215 Pluche, Noel-Antoine 37
Mulsow, Martin 215 Pope, Alexander 48
Musschenbroek, Jan van 35-6, 126, Poszakowski, Jan 220, 225
140, 142 Pythagoras 81
Musschenbroek, Johan Joosten
van 140 Ray, John 26, 37, 47, 59
Musschenbroek, Petrus van 10-1, Reinbeck, Johann Gustav 215
35, 45-8, 60, 64, 139-53, 159-60, Ricard, S. 57
175-76, 187-89, 192, 221, 228-29, Roche, Michel la 56
251 Roger, Estienne 56
Mylius, Christlob 215 Rohault, Jacques 22, 25, 55, 173-74 255
Rømer, Ole 168, 172
I NDE X
Nettis, Johannes 160, 177 Rousset de Missy, Jean 218
Newton, Isaac passim Ruysch, Frederik 101, 109
Nieuwenhuis, Jacob 229
Nieuwentijt, Bernard 13, 22-3, Sacrelaire, Anne 124
28-9, 31-3, 36-7, 41, 47, 55, 59, Saint-Hilaire, Pierre Antoine
119, 122, 129, 136, 187-9, 191, 194, de 217
196-97, 199, 200, 240 Saint Hyacinthe, Thémiseul de 29,
Nieuwland, Petrus 48 125
Nollet, Jean Antoine 47 Sallengre, Albert Henri de 29,
124-25
Odé, Jacob 188, 199 Sassen, Ferdinand 227, 243
Oldenburg, Henry 19, 52 Schade, Georg 221
Oosterdijk Schacht, Johannes 45, Schelte, Hendrik 56
228 Scheuchzer, Johann Jacob 200
Ossa-Richardson, Anthony 50 Schijnvoet, Simon 199
Schim, Jan 45, 63
Pater, Kees de 11, 35, 45, 113, 139, Schofield 173
251 Schuurman, Paul 113
Paul 16 Sedgwick, James 213
Pauli, Joannes 29, 55-7 Senguerd, Wolferd 20, 35, 47, 119,
Pawling, Robert 79 127, 141, 248
Pemberton, Henry 106-07, 111 Serre, Lieutenant La 221
Pepys, Samuel 79 Simon, Richard 71
Peyrère, Isaac la 24 Smith, Robert 177
Spinoza 8, 12, 18-9, 21, 23-4, 31-4, Vossius, Isaac 21, 24, 53-4, 129, 251
37, 47-9, 129-30, 174, 186, 189-91, Vryer, Abraham de 39, 41, 61
193, 195-96, 198, 200, 218, 232, 236,
251 Waesberge, Johannes van 56
Stanley, William 74, 86 Wallis, John 22, 84-5
Straeten, Margaretha van der 140 Wassenaer, Lord Starrenberg and
Struyck, Nicolaas 30, 43-4, 57-8, 63 Ruyven, Willem 123
Sturm, Johann Christoph 173 Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde,
Swammerdam, Johannes 109, 251 Arent 120-23, 126
Swedenborg, Emanuel 146 Wassenaer van Duyvenvoorde,
Swieten, Gerard van 93 Brilanus 121
Swinden, Jean Henry van 10, 47, Wegener, Daan 50
227, 229-43, 246-48 Wetstein, Gerard 29, 55-6
Wetstein, Rudolf 29, 55-6
256 Taylor, Brook 147 Whiston, William 210
Thompson, Ann 213 Widder, Adam 46
Tirion, Isaac 42, 61, 177 Wielema, Michiel 222

Tissot de Patot, Simon 221 Wiesenfeldt, Gerhardt 127, 173
Toland, John 214 Wilhelm I of Prussia 141
Toricelli, Evangelista 233 William of Orange, see William III
Tourton, Isaac 118 William I 232
Tourton, Nicolas 75 William III 69, 72-3, 119-22
Tschirnhaus, Ehrenfred Walther Willis, Thomas 213
von 69, 171, 175, 198 Winkler, Johann Heinrich 47-8, 65
Turretini, Jean Alphonse 82 Wittich, Christoph 53
Wittichius, Jacobus 141
Varenius, Bernard 44 Wolff, Betje 48
Vermij, Rienk 9-10, 21, 25, 49-50, Wolff, Christian 37, 45-47, 65, 168,
174-75, 185, 251 172-74, 208, 215-17, 219-22, 232,
Verwer, Adriaan 22-5, 31, 39, 48, 235
187 Wolters, Johannes 25, 28, 55-7
Villepoix, F.N. de 240
Voetius, Gisbertus 16-7, 194 Zaluski, family 220
Volder, Burchardus de 20-1, 33, 35, Zilsel, Edgar 191
47, 53, 59, 93, 119, 123, 127-28, 130, Zimmerman, Johann
136, 173-74, 248 Christopher 53
Voltaire 14, 221 Zuidervaart, Huib 8, 13, 129, 252

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omslag Newton.indd | Sander Pinkse Boekproductie | 16-11-12 / 14:45 | Pag.

Newton and the Netherlands

Ad Maas is curator at the Museum

Newton and the Netherlands

Edited by Eric Jorink and Ad Maas

Leiden University Press

The publication of this book is made possible by a grant

Cover illustration: Britannia between Newton and W.J. ’s Gravesande,

Cover design and lay-out: Sander Pinkse Boekproductie, Amsterdam

isbn 978 90 8728 137 3

© E. Jorink, A. Maas / Leiden University Press, Amsterdam 2012

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright

‘The Miracle of Our Time’ 13

Servant of Two Masters 67

How Newtonian Was Herman Boerhaave? 93

The Man Who Erased Himself 113

‘The Wisest Man to Whom this Earth Has as Yet Given

Low Country Opticks 159

Defining the Supernatural 185

Anti-Newtonianism and Radical Enlightenment 207

Newtonianism at the Dutch Universities during the

The Dutch Republic is known as an early adopter of Isaac Newton’s 7

vant to Newton’s success. Drawing on the recent trend in the history

mostly used Newton’s ideas in a selective or even defective manner,

second edition of the Principia in 1713, and the subsequent pirated

developments? From Newton’s natural philosophy a worldview could

sor at Franeker and Amsterdam. Van Swinden employed in his meta-

an methods, he was at the same time critical about Newton’s results.

built perpetua mobilia and considered fermentation to be the driving

addresses not the dissemination, but rather the genesis of Newton’s

‘The Miracle of Our Time’

It is partly or even mainly thanks to intellectual circles in the

It is well known that in 1715 Herman Boerhaave (1668–1738), by far the

as secretary to the Dutch ambassador. Here, he attended John Desa-

de la philosophie de Newton, to be published in Amsterdam in 1738.

Scientific culture in the Dutch Republic

Lacking an older scholastic tradition, the newly founded Protestant

many students from all over the Continent.8 An empirical approach

Church there existed a stunning variety of denominations, such as the

We know him [God] by two means. First, by the creation,

philosophy and even theology. Nevertheless, the relations remained

on absolute mathematical certainty.

Spinoza in his famous Dictionaire historique et critique (first edition

Dutch reactions to the first edition of Newton’s Principia (1687)

tions.25 As Rob Iliffe describes in this volume, Huygens remained for

Although De Volder also had the privilege of receiving an author’s

Amsterdam mathematical enthusiasts

weekly meetings in the 1660s; in the same period the research-oriented

kept them informed on British affairs. For example, Nieuwentijt, who

published a refutation of Spinoza’s Ethics, namely ’t Mom-aensicht der

an uncontested basis for a truly Christian natural philosophy. Newton

unorthodox ideas and subsequently earned a living in Amsterdam as a

za’s conception of nature, and now he realized that Newton stipulat-

that it sufficed for God to have given motion to matter just

The pirated Amsterdam edition of the 1713 Cambridge version

was published in May 1713, and according to a list personally made by

Fig. 1 & 2: The two Amsterdam reprints of Newton’s Principia, issued by an

published in England (‘qui vient de paroître en Angleterre’).60 Obvi-

close contacts with the Amsterdam publisher Jean-Louis de Lorme