Category: Blank and Empty Things; A History of

JF Ptak Science Books  Post 2747

Grazing through old scholarly journals is never a completed task—the more you have to bring to the adventure, the more you will take away from it. This is probably a general truth, though it is particularly so with journals that cut a broad path in the communication of ideas, and this is certainly the story with the late-17^th century journal/magazine, Bibliotheque Universelle. It ran from 1672 to 1726, and the intellectually-thirsty editors ran a kind of review/abstract service for their readers—they found (mostly) newly published books in a wide variety of areas, and wrote summaries and statements on them, with background history, and the occasional editorial comment. Some of the articles were on significant works by John Locke and Antoine van Leeuwenhoek, but many and probably most were on obscure topics in nitty theological history and mostly-invisible philosophical issues, or at at least that is how the latter seems to me today. The Bibliotheque brought new ideas to the continent, and brought them in the Lingua Franca, which also happened to be French.

This is the background as I thumbed my way through volume seven, one of several volumes for this year, finding few things that fired any nodule of memory or investigation in my head. 1687 is a big year in the history of science, seeing the publication in July of that year of what may one of them most important books ever published, Isaac Newton’s Pricnipa Mathematica.

And then, suddenly, it was there. I knew from a previous experience that an interesting and uncommon review of the Principia by John Locke (of all people) in the next volume (8), which was the third statement on the book outside of Britain. But I hadn’t know about this appearance, which would have been published just a couple of months after the Principia appeared.

There were just a few lines announcing the book in the table of contents, but no page reference. I consulted an online version of the journal and did a search on Newton, with no results. That of course made me go through the book—twice–page by page to make sure that the article wasn’t there. It wasn’t. I imagine that the mention of one of the world’s greatest books was, well, a mistake.

The Principia was quiet.

The funny thing was that there was another article on exactly that—quiet. And this was a dangerous quiet, at least for the originator of the theological movement, who would be cast into the flames of the Inquisition and die in prison for the temerity of quietude.

In the next page of the table there was this fine find: “Le Quietiste, ou les Illusions de l’oration de Quietude”, (p 550-554) and “Receuil de diverse pieces concernant le quietisme et les quietistes”(pp 554-559).

These two articles are statements/reviews of two books addressing the Quietism and Quiesiste movement as embodied by its founder, Miguel de Molino (1626-1696). Very long story short, Molino was seen as a threat to the pope and to the Jesuits, preaching a Christianity that seems quite personal and benevolent from where I sit, but at the time was seen as heretical, and for which Molino would be tried by the Holy Offices and condemned to life in prison, and as a matter of fact, Molino died in the (outwardly) beautiful Castel St. Angelo serving out his sentence.

It seems to have a bit forward and backwards for Molino. Charges were brought against him chiefly through the work of pieces like the first presented above, by the Jesuit Paolo Segneri (1624-1697), whose first efforts were unsuccessful in dislodging Molino, with his own work finding its way to the Index. However, by 1685 he was again sent to the Inquisition, and just months before this book was published, he was already tried and imprisoned.

William James (in his The Varieties of Religious Experience, 1902) found Molino to be a “spiritual genius” (p. 130) and his Quietism to be a ”transcendental idealism”, with “a healthy-minded opinion of repentance” (p. 130). He seems to have found nothing threatening in the man, and his imprisonment an “abomination”. The issues were longer and deeper than this, with 250+ points brought up before the Inquisition, including “moral deformity”), but on the whole Quietisme seems as destructive as George Fox’s Quakerism, which seems to have shared many spiritual practices with Quietism.

So it seems that the established order in Rome found the message of the Quietists too loud, and the voice of the Principia was to be found in the next volume.

JF Ptak Science Books     Post 2705 (slightly expanded)

The poetry and moment of the auspicious occasion of Marie Curie’s first lecture¹ at the Sorbonne passed without notice in the page of the Revue Scientifique, which published the lecture a week later. Curie was the lead paper in the 15 November issue of the journal, though there was nothing to mark its historic nature–only a footnote at the bottom of the page referring to the Sorbonne lecture a week earlier. 

This was the first lecture Curie delivered as the first woman to have a teaching position (the first lecturer and first professor) at the Sorbonne  She took the chair in May 1906, just a month after her husband Pierre was accidentally and tragically killed in a freak accident, being crushed by a street carriage. All of this came only a year after the Curies received their Nobel Prize (delayed due to their illnesses from the award year of 1903 to 1905, Curie being the first woman to receive the award).  The teaching chair Curie occupied was that of her late husband, who had only recently (and finally) been appointed to it. With such a history, Curie in her new position began the lecture with the final words that her husband used teaching in that same room.

I’ve read that the impact may have been loosened somewhat given Curie’s methodical, removed, and monotonic delivery, which left many in the large crowd (attendance thrown open for the occasion) feeling underwhelmed. The Dictionary of Scientific Biography carries a contemporary description of the event so: “Mme. Curie compelled recognition from her first lecture (5 November 1906), despite her timidity, the emotion she was concealing, her weak voice, and her monotone delivery. She made no introductory remarks, took no notice of the sightseers mingling with the students, and began her lecture with the last sentence that Pierre had spoken in that very place. In every demonstration experiment she watched the result with as much interest as if she did not already know it…”²

And Dirac and many others wound up being not-engaged lecturers. So be it. But starting her lecture with the last words her dead husband spoke from the same spot is very powerful stuff, but evidently not powerful enough to move many people. 

Notes:

1. Curie, Marie. “Les Theories Modernes Relatives a l’electricite et a la matiere”, in Revue Scientifique (Revue Rose), 5th series, volume VI, #29, 17 November 1906, pp 606-612, and in the next issue, #21, 24 November 1906, pp 650-654. Offered in the full volume for the second half of 1906. Bound in a very stout red buckram with reinforced hinges. The volume contains 26 weekly issues, each title page having the former owner’s round rubber stamp

2.  Dictionary of Scientific Biography, vol 3, p 501. 

Also see Nobel Laureates in Chemistry, 1901-1992, by James K. Laylin, pg 92./

Here’s a contemporary and congratulatory review of the event: 

“MME. PIERRE CURIE THE FIRST WOMAN PROFESSOR IN THE SORBONNE. The academic year of the University of France may be said to have opened to day November 5 with the lecture by Madame Curie on electricity. The occasion was entirely unique in the history of the Sorbonne and was one of great interest. Never before has a woman had such an appointment at the Sorbonne and no other woman or man living has such a claim as Madame Curie to be heard on her special subject. The rector of the university and other prominent officials were present. The minister of public instruction M Briand who appointed Madame Curie to this professorship made vacant a few months ago by the accidental death of her husband had promised to be present but his presence was required at the opening of the parliament at the same hour. Madame Curie’s course of lectures is one of the so called open courses to which admission may be gained without fees or formal matriculation long before the lecture began the outer gates were closed against those seeking admission. Several hundred of those who filled the corridors were unable to get into the hall of physics in which the lecture was to be given. I almost despaired of getting in and was one of the last who succeeded I was well rewarded for my patience in waiting. Standing behind the last and highest tier of seats in the hall I looked down on three or four hundred people of both sexes and of all ages above twenty. Back of the long table at the opposite end of the room stood the modest self possessed woman who has made the civilized world her debtor by her discoveries…”–Journal of Education, December 6, 1906, p 611.