Athanasius Kircher and the Baroque Culture of Machines
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Athanasius Kircher and the Baroque culture of machines http://hotgates.stanford.edu/Eyes/machines/machines.htm essay illustrations gallery BETWEEN THE DEMONIC AND THE MIRACULOUS: ATHANASIUS KIRCHER AND THE BAROQUE CULTURE OF MACHINES Michael John GORMAN [email protected] Draft Introduction: Serious jokes From the magnetic Jesus walking on water described in his very first published book, the 1631 Ars Magnesia, to the unfortunate cat imprisoned in a catoptric chest and terrified by its myriad reflections shown to visitors to his famous museum, the peculiar mechanical, optical, magnetic, hydraulic and pneumatic devices constructed by Athanasius Kircher (1602-1680) continue to defy the analytical categories used in both traditional museum history and history of science.[1] Although Filippo Buonanni (1638-1725) later attempted to reduce the machines of the Kircherian museum to the status of mechanical demonstrations, even adding some of his own[2], it is clear that for Kircher and his immediate entourage, these machines were, in some real sense, magical. Far from being trivial addenda to a collection of antiquities and naturalia, the documents suggest that Kircher’s machines were utterly central to any seventeenth century visit to the Musaeum Kircherianum. But, from the point of view of traditional histories of science, Kircher’s machines remain defiantly perplexing. Their emblematic, ludic, and deceptive connotations sit ill with any attempt to place them within grand histories of “experimental science” emphasizing the demise of Aristotelianism through the triumph of an “experimental method” during precisely the period in which the Kircherian museum enjoyed its exhuberant heyday. From the point of view of the history of collections, the machines accumulated by Kircher and his disciples in Rome cannot merely be treated as objects removed from circulation, or from their original context of usage, as these machines had no original context of usage, and did not circulate prior to their display in the museum.[3] Rather, we are dealing with purpose-built installations, constructed ad hoc by Kircher and his changing body of assistants, technicians and disciples in the Collegio Romano. So what are we to make of these magical machines? This article attempts to situate Kircher’s machines in a Baroque culture of artificial magic. Using contemporary accounts of visits to Kircher’s museum and other documents, it aims to recover the purpose of these devices, to understand how they worked, not only by peering inside them to examine their secret workings, but also by looking outside them at how people responded to them, and at how Kircher and his Jesuit companions placed this part of their output in a rich tradition of artificial magic that has commonly been overlooked or trivialised by historians of science. We will argue that Kircher’s machines found their meaning in a flourishing Baroque culture of special effects. In the same way that “inside jokes” confirm the identity of a particular social group, while excluding the majority of people who are not privy to the assumptions on which the joke is based, the machines of Kircher and his disciples provided an elite social group with self-defining puzzles and enigmas. 1 of 36 4/22/11 11:23 AM Athanasius Kircher and the Baroque culture of machines http://hotgates.stanford.edu/Eyes/machines/machines.htm The game of deducing the natural causes behind the strange effects produced by Kircher’s magical machines, such as a clepsydra apparently pouring water upwards into a “watery heaven”, really caused by a hidden mirror, was somewhat akin to fox-hunting or golf in our society: if you could play the game, your identity as part of a particular social elite was confirmed. If you could not play the game, and had to assume that demonic forces were responsible for the strange effects you were witnessing, you were doomed to the ranks of the vulgar masses. In this respect, Kircher’s machines had much in common with courtly emblems and enigmas, and the culture of “sprezzatura” which countless behaviour-manuals vainly attempted to divulge in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.[4] Like many types of joke, Kircher’s machines are, we argue, inherently conservative. They rest on a shared mystery – the hidden causes behind the visible effects. To challenge the received picture of the causes operating in the natural world in response to such a machine would thus amount in a strong sense to spoiling the joke for everybody else.[5] At the core of Kircher’s marvellous machines, then, lies a robust epistemological conservatism. Kircher’s machines thus offer us an alternative to conventional stories of the inevitable collapse of Aristotelian natural philosophy through direct experimentation, and require us to refine our understanding of the roles played by machines, experiments and instruments in seventeenth century natural philosophy. The culture of the elite audience for which Kircher’s machines were designed is inscribed graphically on the machines themselves – one need only consider such items as the water-vomiting two-headed Imperial Eagle (fig. 1, see also fig. 2), or the perspectival trick unjumbling an image of Pope Alexander VII. Indeed, one could arguably take this further and view the Musaeum Kircherianum as a whole as something of a self-portrait of an elite, primarily a Roman Catholic elite centered around the twin poles of the courts of Rome and Vienna. This elite was not a “given” quantity when Kircher’s museum came into existence – rather the museum helped to construct and consolidate the elite while the elite helped to construct the museum by corresponding with Kircher and providing him with portrait medals, natural curiosities and other objects for his collection. At the centre of a vast correspondence network, and increasingly famous through his lavishly illustrated encyclopedic publications, Kircher wielded considerable power to shape the social group represented in his museum. Limited only by his religious poverty, Kircher extended his network at will to include powerful Protestants such as Duke August of Brunswick-Lüneburg or Queen Christina of Sweden, prior to her conversion. In a revealing letter to Duke August’s librarian Johann Georg Anckel, Kircher wrote that he had immediately had Duke August’s portrait “framed in gold and put up in my Gallery as a Mirror of the magnanimity, wisdom and generosity of the high-born prince”, adding that “my Gallery or museum is visited by all the nations of the world and a prince cannot become better known in hoc Mundi theatro than have his likeness here. And if the expense were not so great I would do this for all Germans, but I must cut my coat according to my cloth”.[6] As well as holding up a trick-mirror to an elite audience, Kircher’s museum also emblematized the Jesuit order itself. Many of the curious natural objects and artefacts of remote cultures present in the museum were sent to Kircher by Jesuit missionaries, who constitute the single most numerous group of his correspondents. Some of Kircher’s machines provide striking emblematic depictions of his order – his universal catholic horoscope of the Society of Jesus was a large sundial representing the Jesuit order as an olive tree, with the different Assistancies or administrative divisions of the order represented as branches, and the different colleges represented as leaves. 2 of 36 4/22/11 11:23 AM Athanasius Kircher and the Baroque culture of machines http://hotgates.stanford.edu/Eyes/machines/machines.htm Tiny sundials placed in each province give the local time, and the shadows of the gnomons of the sundials, when aligned, spelled “IHS”, the abbreviated name of Jesus and symbol of the Jesuit order, which appears to “walk over the world” with the passing of time (fig. 3).[7] In Kircher’s museum, visitors were also shown “a large crystalline globe full of water representing the resurrection of the Saviour in the midst of the waters”.[8] One of the aims of this article is to understand the relationship between such artefacts and Kircher’s position in the Jesuit Collegio Romano. The moment of the creation of the Musaeum Kircherianum coincided with a disciplinary crisis in Jesuit education that led the superiors of the order to condemn departures from Aristotle in philosophy, including natural philosophy or physics, and from Thomas Aquinas in theology. The works of Jesuit authors on natural philosophy during this period were closely scrutinized for anti-Aristotelian views.[9] The exotic publications of Kircher and his disciples seem to contradict this doctrinal fundamentalism, but we will suggest that the contradiction is only apparent. The treatment of machines and instruments, even those associated with criticisms of Aristotle, in the works of Kircher and his Jesuit apprentices in magic was designed to avoid conflict with fundamental Aristotelian principles. The machines Before taking a look at the the magical and mathematical traditions from which Kircher’s machines emerged and the functions, mechanical and social, that they performed, it might be opportune to have a first glance at the machines themselves. In 1678 Giorgio de Sepibus (fl. 1678), Kircher’s “assistant in making machines” published the first catalogue of the Musaeum Kircherianum.[10] Little is known about De Sepibus, from the Wallis (Valesia) canton in Switzerland, who seems to have been an intermittent companion of Kircher, and is first mentioned ten years earlier in a letter from the Oratorian priest Francesco Gizzio to Kircher. In 1670 Kircher sent De Sepibus to Naples, where he brought a number of machines to perfection, with the exception of a “versatile pulpit” that was left incomplete. It is not clear when De Sepibus left Kircher’s service, but by 1674 Kircher seems to have feared him dead, so with all likelihood the catalogue was completed well before its publication.[11] De Sepibus provides us with a summary list of the machines present in Kircher’s museum, which may serve as our starting point: 1.