The Scientific Revolution and The Death of Nature

The Death of Nature: Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution, published in 1980, presented a view of the Scientific Revolution that challenged the hegemony of mechanistic science as a marker of progress. It argued that seventeenth-century science could be implicated in the ecological crisis, the domination of nature, and the devaluation of women in the production of scientific knowledge. This essay offers a twenty-five-year retrospective of the book’s contributions to ecofeminism, environmental history, and reassessments of the Scientific Revolution. It also responds to challenges to the argument that Francis Bacon’s rhetoric legitimated the control of nature. Although Bacon did not use terms such as “the torture of nature,” his followers, with some justification, interpreted his rhetoric in that light. I N 1980, the year The Death of Nature appeared, Congress passed the Superfund Act, ecofeminists held their first nationwide conference, and environmentalists celebrated the tenth anniversary of Earth Day. The Death of Nature, subtitled “Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution,” spoke to all three events. The chemicals that polluted the soil and water symbolized nature’s death from the very success of mechanistic science. The 1980 conference “Women and Life on Earth: Ecofeminism in the ’80s” heralded women’s efforts to reverse that death. Earth Day celebrated a decade of recognition that humans and ecology were deeply intertwined. The essays in this Isis Focus section on the twenty-fifth anniversary of The Death of Nature reflect the themes of the book’s subtitle, and I shall comment on each of them in that order. I shall also elaborate on my analysis of Francis Bacon’s rhetoric on the domination and control of nature.1 * Department of Environmental Science, Policy, and Management, University of California, Berkeley, California 94720. Earlier versions of this essay were presented at the conference “The Scientific Revolution: Between Renaissance and Enlightenment,” University of Florida, Gainesville, February 2005 (Pts. II and III), and as part of the session “Getting Back to The Death of Nature: Rereading Carolyn Merchant” at the annual meeting of the History of Science Society, Minneapolis, Minnesota, 4 November 2005, sponsored by the Women’s Caucus. I thank the reviewers, commentators, and participants at both conferences and Robert Hatch, Roger Hahn, David Kubrin, Wilber Applebaum, and Bernard Lightman for their insights and suggestions. 1 Carolyn Merchant, The Death of Nature: Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution (1980; San Francisco: 514 FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) I Charis Thompson’s provocative, well-argued paper deals with the connections between women and nature and the foundations of and responses to ecofeminism. When The Death of Nature appeared in 1980 the concept of ecofeminism was just emerging. The 1980 conference organized by Ynestra King and others seemed to me to offer an antidote to the death of nature and the basis for an activist movement to undo the problems that the Scientific Revolution had raised for contemporary culture in the form of the environmental crisis. Moreover, it connected the effects of nuclear fallout and chemical pollutants on women’s (and men’s) reproductive systems to the relations between production and reproduction I had discussed in the book.2 Thompson notes that ecofeminism linked the domination of women with the domination of nature and recognized the values and activities associated with women, including childbearing and nurturing. She correctly points out that during the 1980s and 1990s ecofeminism faced a critique by academic women that it was essentialist in its conflation of women with nature, implying not only that women’s nature is to nurture but also that women’s role is to clean up the environmental mess made by men. Women who, as ecofeminists, came to the defense of nature were actually cementing their own oppression in the very hierarchies that (as the anthropologist Sherry Ortner had argued) identified men with culture and women with nature.3 My own efforts to deal with the problems of essentialism and nature/culture dualism led me to develop a form of socialist ecofeminism rooted not in dualism but in the dialectics of production and reproduction that I had articulated in The Death of Nature. There I had argued that nature cast in the female gender, when stripped of activity and rendered passive, could be dominated by science, technology, and capitalist production. During the transition to early modern capitalism, women lost ground in the sphere of production (through curtailment of their roles in the trades), while in the sphere of reproduction William Harvey HarperCollins, 1990) (hereafter cited as Merchant, Death of Nature). For a list of reviews and commentaries on the book from 1980 to 1998 see Merchant, “The Death of Nature: A Retrospective,” in “Symposium on Carolyn Merchant’s The Death of Nature: Citation Classics and Foundational Works,” Organization and Environment, 1998, 11:180–206 (the retrospective is on pp. 198–206); this symposium featured commentaries by Linda C. Forbes, John M. Jermier, Robyn Eckersley, Karen J. Warren, Max Oelschlaeger, and Sverker Sörlin. See also Kevin C. Armitage, “A Dialectic of Domination: Carolyn Merchant’s The Death of Nature: Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution, 2000, online, reviewed for H-Ideas’ Retrospective Reviews of “books published during the twentieth century which have been deemed to be among the most important contributions to the field of intellectual history.” See also Noël Sturgeon, Donald Worster, and Vera Norwood, “Retrospective Reviews on the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of The Death of Nature,” Environmental History, 2005, 10:805–815. 2 Sherry Ortner’s foundational article, “Is Female to Male as Nature Is to Culture?” in Woman, Culture, and Society, ed. Michelle Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Univ. Press, 1974), pp. 67–87, influenced my thinking about women’s relationships to nature and culture. I was also influenced by Rosemary Radford Ruether, “Women’s Liberation, Ecology, and Social Revolution,” WIN, 4 Oct. 1973, 9:4–7; and Ruether, New Woman/New Earth: Sexist Ideologies and Human Liberation (New York: Seabury, 1975). Susan Griffin consulted me on some of her ideas while writing Woman and Nature: The Roaring Inside Her (New York: Harper Collins, 1978). Although Françoise d’Eaubonne had used the term “ecofeminism” in 1974 in “The Time for Ecofeminism,” few scholars in the United States had heard the word at that time: Françoise d’Eaubonne, Le féminisme ou la mort (Paris: Horay, 1974), pp. 215–252. Ynestra King taught a course on “Ecofeminism” at the Institute for Social Ecology in Plainfield, Vermont, about 1976. 3 Ortner, “Is Female to Male as Nature Is to Culture?” For a history of theories associated with ecofeminism see Carolyn Merchant, Radical Ecology: The Search for a Livable World (1992; New York: Routledge, 2005), Ch. 8. Thompson’s own recent work shows why issues of reproduction so important to the origins of early modern science continue to be vitally significant today. See Charis Thompson, Making Parents: The Ontological Choreography of Reproductive Technologies (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2005). FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) 515 F O C U S and other male physicians were instrumental in undermining women’s traditional roles in midwifery and hence women’s control over their own bodies.4 During the same period, Francis Bacon advocated extracting nature’s secrets from “her” bosom through science and technology. The subjugation of nature as female, I argued, was thus integral to the scientific method as power over nature: “As woman’s womb had symbolically yielded to the forceps, so nature’s womb harbored secrets that through technology could be wrested from her grasp for use in the improvement of the human condition.”5 The dialectical relationships between production and reproduction became for me the basis for a socialist ecofeminism grounded in material change. I also addressed the related problem of the depiction of nature as female, and its conflation with women, by advocating the removal of gendered terminology from the description of nature and the substitution of the gender-neutral term “partner.” This led me to articulate an ethic of partnership with nature in which nature was no longer symbolized as mother, virgin, or witch but instead as an active partner with humanity.6 I don’t believe, however, that Thompson’s statement that “by the early to mid 1990s ecofeminism had largely been relegated to a marginal position in feminist theory in the academy” is quite accurate. During the 1990s and 2000s, ecofeminists dealt with the problem of essentialism by articulating new theories that acknowledged the variable, gendered, raced subject and the socially constructed character of nature. All were deeply cognizant of the critiques of essentialism and identity politics and moved beyond them to argue for ethically responsible, situated, relational subjects engaged in ecofeminist political actions.7 The role of ecology in the Scientific Revolution was the second of the three themes in The Death of Nature’s subtitle, “Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution.” In his well-argued theoretical paper on the intersections between environmental history and the history of science, Gregg Mitman raises the critical question of the linkages between the two fields, represented professionally by the American Society for Environmental History, 4 Harvey argued that the semen of the male, as the most perfect animal, was the efficient cause of conception, while the egg was mere matter. In fact, he held that the male semen was so powerful that impregnation of the egg could occur without contact with the sperm. “How,” he wrote, “should such a fluid [the female’s] get the better of another concocted under the influence of a heat so fostering, of vessels so elaborate, and endowed with such vital energy? —how should such a fluid as the male semen be made to play the part of mere matter?” William Harvey, Works (London: Sydenham Society, 1847), pp. 298, 299, quoted in Merchant, Death of Nature, p. 159. For a recent assessment of scholarship on midwifery see Monica H. Green, “Bodies, Gender, Health, Disease: Recent Work on Medieval Women’s Medicine,” Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History, 3rd Ser., 2005, 2:1–46 (I thank Katharine Park for this reference). 5 Merchant, Death of Nature, p. 169. See also p. 172: “For Bacon as for Harvey, sexual politics helped to structure the nature of the empirical method” as power over nature. 6 On socialist feminism see Merchant, Radical Ecology (cit. n. 3), Ch. 8; on partnership with nature see Carolyn Merchant, Reinventing Eden: The Fate of Nature in Western Culture (New York: Routledge, 2003), Ch. 11. 7 These theoretical works included Val Plumwood’s Feminism and the Mastery of Nature (New York: Routledge, 1993), which proposed a form of social ecofeminism that dealt with problems of domination and difference by positing the relational self, and Noël Sturgeon’s Ecofeminist Natures: Race, Gender, Feminist Theory, and Political Action (New York: Routledge, 1997), which dealt explicitly with the argument of the rejection of ecofeminism by the academy while validating women’s on-the-ground activism. Likewise, Mary Mellor’s Feminism and Ecology (New York: New York Univ. Press, 1997) and Ariel Kay Salleh’s Ecofeminism as Politics (London: Zed, 1997) proposed socialist feminist approaches to ecofeminism as political positions. Chris Cuomo’s Feminism and Ecological Communities (New York: Routledge, 1998) dealt with issues of race and ecofeminism, while Karen Warren’s Ecofeminist Philosophy (Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000) proposed a multicultural, relational ethic of care. 516 FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) founded in 1976, and the History of Science Society. Indeed, Mitman’s own work has been at the forefront of these linkages.8 In The Death of Nature, a bridge between the history of science and environmental history was developed most explicitly in Chapter 2, “Farm, Fen, and Forest,” on the ecological and economic changes taking place in Western Europe during the period of the rise of mercantile capitalism and the nation-state.9 The chapter argues that ecological and technological changes in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries helped to create material conditions that made new ideas plausible. As both Thompson and Mitman point out, I do not argue that material or ecological changes cause or determine ideological changes. Rather, they make some ideas prevalent at a given time seem more plausible than others. Some ideas die out or become less compelling (in this case those associated with natural magic and the organic worldview), while others are developed and accepted, in particular (in this case) those that led to mechanical explanations for phenomena and the mechanistic worldview. The Death of Nature moved back and forth between material and social conditions and ideas about nature and science. Thus ecological and material changes are seen as fundamental to understanding the rise of mechanism and to the argument for the links between environmental history and the history of science.10 Mitman states that “The Death of Nature presents us with a materialist history of environmental change that pointed toward, but never quite embraced, an ecological history of material, cultural, and social relations through which nature became not universal, but many.” While it is true that in The Death of Nature I focused on nature symbolized as female, I do not believe that nature is necessarily a universal force. Rather, nature is characterized by ecological laws and processes described by the laws of thermodynamics and by energy exchanges among biotic and abiotic components of an ecosystem. Any of these components can become an actor or actors in an environmental history of a particular place. In my 1989 book Ecological Revolutions I developed a theory of ecology, production, reproduction, and consciousness in which, as Mitman puts it, “material, cultural, and social relations” are all interacting parts of ecological history. While I would still argue that the drivers of change are material (bacteria, insects, plants, and animals—including humans) and economic (explorations, colonization, markets, and capital), new ideas can support and legitimate new directions and actions taken by groups of people, societies, and nations.11 The Scientific Revolution is the third theme in the book’s subtitle and the one addressed most cogently by Katharine Park’s essay. The Death of Nature in general had an arresting impact in many fields and was used widely in courses; why, Park asks, was it not embraced 8 See esp. Gregg Mitman, The State of Nature: Ecology, Community, and American Social Thought, 1900– 1950 (Chicago: Univ. Chicago Press, 1992). 9 I elaborated on these connections at the History of Technology meeting (a 4S meeting) in Toronto in 1980 and in a 1982 article: Carolyn Merchant, “Hydraulic Technologies and the Agricultural Transformation of the English Fens,” Environmental Review, 1982, 7:165–177. 10 Merchant, Death of Nature, p. 68: “As European cities grew and forested areas became more remote, as fens were drained and geometric patterns of channels imposed on the landscape, as large powerful waterwheels, furnaces, forges, cranes, and treadmills began increasingly to dominate the work environment, more and more people began to experience nature as altered and manipulated by machine technology. A slow but unidirectional alienation from the immediate daily organic relationship that had formed the basis of human experience from earliest times was occurring. Accompanying these changes were alterations in both the theories and experiential bases of social organization which had formed an integral part of the organic cosmos.” 11 Carolyn Merchant, Ecological Revolutions: Nature, Gender, and Science in New England (Chapel Hill: Univ. North Carolina Press, 1989). FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) 517 F O C U S more warmly by historians of early modern science? From evidence over the years, it would seem to me that the book did indeed have a substantial audience among historians of science and was read in numerous classes.12 But if it was not awarded accolades by more of the field’s heavyweights (although I would take Everett Mendelsohn, Walter Pagel, and Frances Yates as fully sufficient and most satisfying), I think its reception had less to do with hyperprofessionalism than with the book’s challenge to the pedestal on which historians had tended to place the Scientific Revolution. The book questioned the grand narrative of the Scientific Revolution as progress and undermined the valorization of the most revered fathers of modern science—such as Harvey, Bacon, Descartes, and Newton. It argued that seventeenth-century mechanistic science itself contributed to the most pressing ecological and social problems of our day and dared to suggest that women were as much the victims as the beneficiaries of the progress of science. The book contributed to a growing body of scholarship that led to the historian of science’s interest in the social construction of nature and authority and the importance of the role of women in science and to the questioning of grand narratives and the ways that science was implicated in ideologies of progress. Park is correct that I did not challenge the idea of the Scientific Revolution itself. I focused on the major transformations in science and society that occurred during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (1500–1700), from Copernicus to Newton, from Renaissance natural magic to the mechanical worldview, and from the breakup of feudalism to the rise of mercantile capitalism and the nation-state. I could well have emphasized the explorations of the New World (depicted as female) as a source of natural resources for the emerging European economies, connections I later developed in Ecological Revolutions and Reinventing Eden. Our understanding of the ways that “early modern science” engaged with the everyday world has been enriched by Park’s own work on metaphors and emblems of female nature and the body, as well as studies of scientific patronage and practice and the witnessing of experiments.13 Yet the notion of a “Scientific Revolution” in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is part of a larger mainstream narrative of Western culture that has propelled science, technology, and capitalism’s efforts to “master” nature—a narrative into which most Westerners have unconsciously been socialized and within which we ourselves have become actors in a storyline of upward progress. Demoting the “Scientific Revolution” to the mere nomer of “early modern science” obscures the power of the dominant narratives of colonialism and imperialism that have helped to shape Western culture since the seventeenth century at the expense of nature, women, minorities, and indigenous peoples. This move hides the political power of scientific narratives in remaking the earth and its natural resources as objects for human use.14 But not only did The Death of Nature invoke mechanistic science in the destruction of nature; it further suggested that the scientific method as power over nature, exemplified in 12 Merchant, “Death of Nature: A Retrospective” (cit. n. 1), pp. 198–206. 13 Merchant, Death of Nature, pp. 131–132, 288; Merchant, Ecological Revolutions (cit. n. 11), pp. 55–56; Merchant, Reinventing Eden (cit. n. 6), pp. 117–123; Katharine Park, “Nature in Person: Medieval and Renaissance Allegories and Emblems,” in The Moral Authority of Nature, ed. Lorraine Daston and Fernando Vidal (Chicago: Univ. Chicago Press, 1994), pp. 50–73; Daston and Park, Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150– 1750 (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1998); Mario Biagioli, Galileo, Courtier: The Practice of Science in the Culture of Absolutism (Chicago: Univ. Chicago Press, 1993); and Steven Shapin and Simon Schaffer, Leviathan and the Air-Pump: Hobbes, Boyle, and the Experimental Life (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1985). 14 Merchant, Reinventing Eden, pp. 1–8. 518 FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) the rhetoric of Francis Bacon, implied the constraint and even the torture of nature.15 The most heated critiques of the book have come from those whom Park has called the FOBs (Friends of Bacon). These critics have argued that the feminist project to reframe Bacon’s thought has seriously misread his intentions and his accomplishments. I shall spend the rest of this essay looking at their arguments. II Francis Bacon’s influence and reputation as a founder of modern science have been the subject of debate in recent years. Here I revisit Bacon’s impact as portrayed in The Death of Nature, responding to the defenders of Bacon who question feminist readings of his rhetoric, absolve him of advocating the torture of nature, and maintain that he was not a slave driver but a humble servant of nature.16 I argue that Bacon’s goal was to use constraint and force to extract truths from nature. His choice of words was part of a larger project to create a new method that would allow humanity to control and dominate the natural world. In The Death of Nature, I stated that “much of the imagery [Bacon] used in delineating his new scientific objectives and methods derives from the courtroom, and, because it treats nature as a female to be tortured through mechanical inventions, strongly suggests the interrogations of the witch trials and the mechanical devices used to torture witches,” and I quoted a passage from Bacon’s De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum (Of the Dignity and Advancement of Learning) (see Table 1, col. 2). I also suggested that “the strong sexual implications of the last sentence can be interpreted in the light of the investigation of the supposed sexual crimes and practices of witches.” I summed up Bacon’s approach to the domination of nature with the sentence: “The interrogation of witches as symbol of the interrogation of nature, the courtroom as model for its inquisition, and torture through mechanical devices as a tool of the subjugation of disorder were fundamental to the scientific method as power.”17 Bacon did not use the phrases “torture nature” or “putting nature on the rack” (nor did I claim in The Death of Nature that he did so). He believed that everything in nature should be studied, including those valid things that witches might indeed know about nature. But nature was nevertheless to be studied through interrogation. The goal, as Peter Pesic argues, was to extract the truth. The critics read the methods of interrogation Bacon advocated as a benign means of obtaining knowledge, whereas I read them as legitimation for the domination of nature. The passage in Table 1 was just a small part of the larger argument I made that Bacon’s treatment of nature as female legitimated the control of nature through science and tech15 Merchant, Death of Nature, pp. 168, 172. 16 Alan Soble, “In Defense of Bacon,” Philosophy of the Social Sciences, 1995, 25:192–215, rpt. with additions and corrections in A House Built on Sand: Exposing Postmodernist Myths about Science, ed. Noretta Koertge (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1998), pp. 195–215, esp. pp. 203–206 (subsequent references to the essay will be to this later version); William R. Newman, “Alchemy, Domination, and Gender,” ibid., pp. 216–239; Nieves H. De Madariaga Mathews, Francis Bacon: The History of a Character Assassination (New Haven, Conn.: Yale Univ. Press, 1996), Chs. 24, 33; Mathews, “Francis Bacon, Slave-Driver or Servant of Nature? Is Bacon to Blame for the Evils of Our Polluted Age?” http://itis.volta.alessandria.it/episteme/madar1.html; Peter Pesic, “Nature on the Rack: Leibniz’s Attitude towards Judicial Torture and the ‘Torture’ of Nature,” Studia Leibnitiana, 1997, 39:189–197; Pesic, “Wrestling with Proteus: Francis Bacon and the ‘Torture’ of Nature,” Isis, 1999, 90:81–94; Iddo Landau, “Feminist Criticisms of Metaphors in Bacon’s Philosophy of Science,” Philosophy, 1998, 73:47– 61; and Perez Zagorin, Francis Bacon (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1998), pp. 121–122. 17 Merchant, Death of Nature, pp. 168–169, 172. FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) 519 F O C U S nology. It is nevertheless instructive to reexamine the context out of which that passage arose and the views of James VI of Scotland (who in 1603 became James I of England [1566–1625]) and Francis Bacon (1561–1626) on torture. Table 1 compares the relevant passage from the original 1605 English edition of The Advancement of Learning with the same passage from the 1875 (and identical 1870) English translation of the expanded version of the essay, De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum (1623); the original Latin edition of 1623 (republished in 1858); and the French translation of 1624. With regard to the 1858 Latin edition of De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum, James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis, and Douglas Devon Heath state in their note to the phrase “quod et Majestas tua exemplo proprio confirmavit” (“as your Majesty has shown in your own example”): “The allusion is to King James’ Daemonologie, a work in three books, consisting of dialogues between Philomathes and Epistemon; the latter of whom represents the king’s opinions on witchcraft.”18 In an effort to exonerate Bacon and James I of any negative implications for science, nature, and women that a reader might draw from their writings, Alan Soble states, “Bacon is not alluding to cruel methods of inquisition, but is pointing out that James I was willing to get his hands dirty by studying witchcraft. What James I ‘show[ed] in his own example,’ says Bacon, is that everything in nature is an appropriate object for scientific study—one of Bacon’s principles—not that science should torture nature as if it were a witch.” In the Daemonologie James did indeed distinguish between “Astronomie and Astrologie” and noted the differences between “naturall reason” and “unlawful charmes, without natural causes.” But he did not, as Soble claims, “study witchcraft” to see what within it might have been “an appropriate object for scientific study.” On the contrary, the book reveals James’s involvement in both the torture of witches and the sexual aspects of the witch trials.19 Although torture was officially banned in English common law from the time of the Magna Carta, it was nevertheless used during the reigns of the Tudors (Henry VII, Henry VIII, Mary, and Elizabeth I) and Stuarts (James I and James II). Under those monarchs, the Court of the Star Chamber ordered hangings, whippings, mutilations, and the pillory. James I believed that witches had powers over people and nature, knew secrets, and could be forced to confess those secrets if interrogated under torture or shown the instruments of torture. In the Daemonologie he denounced witchcraft and advocated the death of witches by fire. The devil, he wrote, “makes them to renunce their God and Baptisme directlie, and giuses them his marke vpon some secreit place of their bodie.” Witches could be detected by probing for that insensible part on the body in order to find the devil’s mark, ducking them in water to see if they would float (if they floated they were guilty, 18 Francis Bacon, De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum (1623), in Works, ed. James Spedding, Robert Leslie Ellis, and Douglas Devon Heath, 14 vols. (London: Longmans Green, 1857–1874, 1875–1881) (hereafter cited as Works, in parentheses, with volume and page numbers), Vol. 1, pp. 496, 498. The note is inserted by the editors at the end of the quoted passage; they refer to King James the First, Daemonologie (1597) (New York: Dutton, 1924). 19 Soble, “In Defense of Bacon” (cit. n. 16), p. 203; and James I, Daemonologie, pp. 11, 33 (quotation), 77– 81. Soble argues that inserting the words I omitted in the passage on sorceries, witchcrafts, charms, etc., from De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum changes the meaning of the passage quoted in Table 1, col. 2—i.e., the [bracketed] words “For it is not yet known in what cases, and how far, effects attributed to superstition participate of natural causes, and therefore” and “(if they be diligently unravelled).” Inserting these words does strengthen the idea that witches, sorcerers, alchemists, and natural magicians might have valid knowledge of nature, but it does not change Bacon’s goals, as stated in the passage, of finding this knowledge by “hound[ing] nature in her wanderings” and of “further disclosing the secrets of nature.” 520 FOCUS—ISIS, 97 : 3 (2006) Ta bl e 1 Fr an ci s B ac on ’s A dv an ce m en to fL ea rn in g Th e A dv an ce m en to fL ea rn in g, 16 05 D e D ig ni ta te et A ug m en tis Sc ie nt ia ru m , E ng lis h, 18 75 D e D ig ni ta te et A ug m en tis Sc ie nt ia ru m , L at in ,1 62 3 Le P ro gr ez et av an ce m en t au x sc ie nc es ,