Showing posts with label Marshall Faintich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marshall Faintich. Show all posts

Monday, April 27, 2015

THE DRUNKEN ASTRONOMERS

This year’s vernal equinox brought a solar eclipse that was visible across northern Eurasia. To view totality, you had to be on the Faroe Islands, 62° north between Scotland and Iceland, or the Svalbard group between Norway and the North Pole at 74° to 81° north.  I missed it entirely, and only saw the news the next day.  But I kept my head, unlike the drunken astronomers of ancient China.

(This is expanded and revised from an article published by The Sidereal Times (April 2015) of the Austin Astronomical Society.)

The story of Hsi and Ho came to my colleague Bradford S. Wade and me while we met often at The Tower Inn Cafe in Ypsilanti, across the street from Eastern Michigan University.  We had a class together, Ethics in Physics with Dr. Patrick Koehn.  After a few meetings or maybe only after a few beers, we took up a joint publication, a review of Astronomical Symbols on Ancient and Medieval Coins by Marshall Faintich.  We placed that in the Bulletin of the Society for the History of Astronomy, Issue 21, Spring 2011. 

As for the drunken astronomers, the stories vary and are often retold, especially by sky gazers, but the teaching point is easy.  Hsi  (also given as Hi or He) and Ho were the court astronomers.  Among their duties, they were responsible for predicting eclipses so that people could beat gongs, shoot arrows, and otherwise scare off the dragon that was eating the sun.  However, they spent most of their time drinking rice wine, so they not only failed to predict an eclipse, but they also slept through it.  Fortunately for all of us, the common people rallied and chased the demon away.  Hsi and Ho were executed. 

The story comes from an ancient manuscript known as The Book of Documents, which has been variously rendered as Shu-king, Shu Ching, Shujing, and Shangshu. (Wikipedia has an entry, of course: Book of Documents.)  The story of Hsi and Ho comes from the fourth part, fifth book, thirteenth chapter.  There, the chancellor, prime minister, or “prince” Yi Ying exhorts government officials not to be derelict in their duties as were Hsi and Ho. All of that happened in legendary times.  (The earliest attested date in Chinese history is equivalent to 831 BCE.)  The most likely date for the eclipse in question is October 22, 2137 BCE.

You can find some reliable modern detail at the Astronomy Today website.  Put “ancient eclipses” in the search box and it should come up first after the Google Ads.  The story of Hsi and Ho is in Part I. The story is embellished in Totality: Eclipses of the Sun, by Mark Littmann, Fred Espenak, and Ken Willcox (Oxford 1991; also on Google Books).  A brief note about the drunken Chinese astronomers, ending with an original poem, appeared in The Journal of the Astronomical Society of India, vol. 4. No. 3, Jan. 1914.  It was cited as coming from The Observatory for December 1913.  Indeed, it did appear in Volume XXXVI, Number 468, page 478. The author was C. Thomas Edgar

The pages below are from The Chinese Classics, Volume 3: The Shoo King or Book of Historical Documents by James Legge, first published by the author at Hong Kong in 1865, then reprinted with errata and corrigenda by Clarendon Press, Oxford 1893-1895.   Below these lines are lengthy glosses on the nuances of the grammar and syntax  of the ideograms.  A modern version (with only a few notes) was edited by Clae Waltham and published by Gateway Editions from Henry Regnery, Chicago, 1971.  You will see that at first Hsi and Ho are the family names of two sets of brothers.  Then, they became individuals.  Also, Legge's translation was before even the Wade-Giles system and is far from the modern Pinyang rules.


Friday, August 3, 2012

Science in the Middle Ages

Objectivists value the scientific method as the cornerstone of the engineering achievements of our civilization from structural trusses and direct current to alternating current and cybernetics.  We too easily see the Middle Ages as a time of ignorance and barbarism in which learning was chained to (and by) theology.  The reality is more complicated.

“The Middle Ages was a period ruled by the Witch Doctor, in a firm, if mutually jealous alliance with Attila. The Witch Doctor controlled every aspect of human life and thought, while the feudal Attilas looted one another’s domains, collected material tributes from serfs – who worked, lived, and served in subhuman conditions – and maintained the power to burn heretics at the stake.
“Philosophy, in that era, existed as a “handmaiden of theology,” and the dominant influence was, appropriately, Plato, in the form of Plotinus and Augustine. Aristotle’s works were lost to the scholars of Europe for centuries. The prelude to the Renaissance was the return of Aristotle via Thomas Aquinas.” – Ayn Rand, “For the New Intellectual.”

Astronomy, in particular was not dormant, nor could it be.  The problem of Easter required bringing lunar and solar calendars into alignment.  Whether biology, botany, and medicine had any hint of modernism is a difficult question, but can only be answered with direct citations to contemporary works.  Like the revolution of the Earth on its axis and the orbit of the Earth about the Sun, proof contrary to spontaneous generation did not come until the 1840s. As with astrology versus astronomy, it is too easy to dismiss alchemy as not being "real" chemistry. While its paradigms are not ours, the practices were utilitarian: dying wool and leather were important crafts. Paints, pigments, and finishes also were consequential.

“Historians have long recognized that the rebirth of science in twelfth-century Europe flowed from a search for ancient scientific texts. But this search presupposes knowledge and interest; we only seek what we know to be valuable. The emergence of scholarly interest after centuries of apparent stagnation seems paradoxical. This book resolves that seeming contradiction by describing four active traditions of early medieval astronomy: one divided the year by observing the Sun; another computed the date of Easter Full Moon; the third determined the time for monastic prayers by watching the course of the stars; and the classical tradition of geometrical astronomy provided a framework for the cosmos. Most of these astronomies were practical; they sustained the communities in which they flourished and reflected and reinforced the values of those communities. These astronomical traditions motivated the search for ancient learning that led to the Scientific Renaissance of the twelfth century.” (Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe by Stephen C. McCluskey. Cambridge University Press,  1997.) 

“Measurements by clepsydras prove … that although the earth is at the center of the universe, it is eccentric to the sun's orbit. At times the sun is borne at a greater distance from the earth than at other times. When the sun is climbing upwards in Cancer and Gemini, in the steeper tracts of its course, it takes longer, lingering 32 days in Gemini; but it requires less time in the lower tracts, 28 days in Sagittarius, the elapsed time for the other signs varying between those extremes (848-849) . “Dominant Traditions in Early Medieval Latin Science” by William H. Stahl, Isis, Vol. 50, No. 2 (Jun., 1959), pp. 95-124. 

Mean Speed from the Oxford
Calculators used by Galileo
"The sorry state of scientific studies at the close of the Roman Empire in the fifth century reflected Roman, not medieval, failures and short-comings." "How Science Survived: Medieval Manuscripts as Fossils” by Sharon Larimer Gilman and Florence Eliza Glaze. Science, New Series, Vol. 307, No. 5713 (Feb. 25, 2005), pp. 1208-1209.

“The dominant explanation of human behavior at this time was astrology.  Charles, like most of his contemporaries, ruled with the advice of the recognized social scientists of the day, the court astrologers. In this vein Oresme was ordered by Charles to translate Ptolemy's Quadripartitum from Latin into French. This order discharged, Oresme then attempted to debunk the popular conceptions in an attack on judicial astrology, Contra judiciaros astronomos (1360), which he later translated into French. There is no hint in the historical record that Oresme's efforts altered the predominance of astrology in the determinance of social policy; indeed, he returned to the attack ten years later with a treatise entitled Contra divinatores horoscopios, and in a series of Quaestiones (a stylized form of question and answer popular with academicians of the period).”
“Nicole Oresme and Medieval Social Science: The 14th Century Debunker of Astrology Wrote anEarly Monetary Treatise” by Kevin B. Bales, American Journal of Economics and Sociology, Vol. 42, No. 1 (Jan., 1983), pp. 101-111.

“WHEN historians and historians of science flatly state that Ptolemy's Almagest and Geography dominated the fields of astronomy and geography for fourteen centuries, they are apt to mislead unwary readers into supposing that Ptolemy was the supreme authority in Latin science during that period. Quite the contrary, his works might almost as well never have been written for all the influence they had in the Latin West until translations were produced from Greek or Arabic texts in Toledo and Sicily in the twelfth century.' If there was any dominant tradition of Latin science in the first thirteen centuries of the Christian Era, it was a stream of encyclopedic literature, the main course of which may be traced backwards through the Latin encyclopedist Varro and the Platonizing Stoic Posidonius; to trace sources beyond them is difficult indeed. In any case it is well to bear in mind that this stream of encyclopedic works skirts around Ptolemy without being appreciably influenced by him. We can trace its course through the extant writings of Pliny, Theon of Smyrna, Cleomedes, Geminus, and numerous others.

“Of the three, Martianus Capella offers the best account of encyclopedic science and will be discussed first. He seems to have flourished in the first half of the fifth century.  Martianus Capella wanted to produce an encyclopedia in the Varronian tradition and, by excluding two of Varro's disciplines, medicine and architecture, laid the foundation of the medieval trivia and quadrivia.

The first work of Archimedes translated into Latin was the Measurement of the Circle. It was translated from the Arabic twice in the twelfth century.' The first translation, which I have argued (but not surely) was done by Plato of Tivoli, was most inferior; just three manuscripts are known, only one of which is medieval. Apparently not long after this first translation the great translator Gerard of Cremona again used the Arabic text and rendered the Measurement of the Circle into Latin. This time the translation was quite accurate, and so before 1187 a faithful version of this short but important treatise became available. We are fortunate that this version was included in MS Bibliotheque Nationale, Fonds latin 9335, a handsome codex of Gerard translations. Incidentally, this manuscript is one of the best examples of intelligent copying of scientific works. It has marginal variant readings which cite alternate copies. The drawings are carefully made. Even more important the transcription of numbers - even of six places - is almost perfect. “The Impact of Archimedes on Medieval Science,” by Marshall Clagett, Isis, Vol. 50, No. 4 (Dec., 1959), pp. 419-429. 

"Among late thirteenth and fourteenth century philosophers, the Averroists have been particularly noticed by historians as advocates of the autonomy of the sciences. In arguing, for example, that physics might give an answer to the question of the eternity of the world different from the answer given in accordance with Christian belief, Boethius of Dacia based himself largely on a conception of physics as an independent discipline with its own principles, rational methods, and conclusions. This approach to the autonomy of the sciences was not, however, the only influential one in this period. Another basis for the autonomy of physics is found in the work of certain Oxford commentators on Aristotle's Physics, most prominently in William of Ockham's Expositio super octo libros Physicorum. This second approach makes physics autonomous by placing greatest confidence not in deductively and causally prior principles of physics, which some thought could be proved or made known by metaphysics, but rather in propositions accepted on the basis of experience, if not known in themselves. The primary evidence cited in the following paper." “The a Posteriori Foundations of Natural Science: Some Medieval Commentaries on Aristotle's Physics, Book I, Chapters 1 and 2” by Edith Dudley Sylla, Synthese, Vol. 40, No. 1, Jan., 1979, pp. 147-187.
 In The Logical Leap, Objectivist physicist and philosopher David Harriman denigrates medieval science. In Chapter 3 "The Mathematical Universe" under the subhead "The Birth of Celestial Physics" on page 85 (ppb), Harriman says that with the Ptolemaic Model, the relative sizes of the orbits of the planets could not be calculated.  That leads to an interesting contradiction.  If it is true that the Geocentric model prevents such calcuations, then they must have used some other model, because the relative sizes of the orbits were known.  On the other hand, perhaps the geometry and observations of the time did, indeed, allow them to make those calculations, even assuming the Geocentric model.  My reference for that is Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe by Stephen McCluskey (Cambridge, 1998).  In fact, because of the religious viewpoint, the very scale of the measurable universe and the comparatively small size of the (spherical; not flat) Earth, were substantiating evidence to the relative unimportance of Earthly affairs. Saturn's orbit was estimated to be 72 million miles from Earth. (McCluskey, page 203).

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Astronomical Symbols on Ancient and Medieval Coins

Book Review: Astronomical Symbols on Ancient and Medieval Coins by Marshall Faintich; McFarland & Co., 2008, 232 pages, $55.00

Working with fellow student Bradford S. Wade, whom I met in “Ethics in Physics,” at Eastern Michigan University, I placed reviews of this book in The Numismatist (Vol 124 No. 1, January 2011), The Mich-Matist (Vol XLVI No. 4, Autumn 2010), E-Sylum(Volume 13, Number 45, November 7, 2010, Article 4), The Centinel (Vol. 58 No. 3, Fall 2010), The Celator, and the Bulletin of the Society for the History of Astronomy (Issue 21, Autumn 2011).  They ran in a range; and as a consequence of our criticism, we exchanged some emails with the author who demanded retractions which we did not publish.  We stand by our work – as he stands by his.  This is science.  Overall, the book is important and valuable.  It does have its weak points.  They do not detract from the major thesis: astronomical events appear recorded in the long history of coinage. 
Symbolic Messengers webpages here

Today, we are not always certain about the motives of the people of those distant times.  The indicators that we easily read as conjunctions and eclipses – and not so easily as comets and other events – may be the mint master’s controls, or a simple statement of time, or (as Faintich hypothesizes) claims of divine grace and heavenly favor.  Read them as you will, “stars” of many kinds have appeared on metal monetary media since the invention of coinage 2600 years ago.

That is the first challenge.

Common to both Karl Marx and Ludwig von Mises is the hilarious presumption that coinage evolved from bullion, which evolved from bartering for commodities.  Those who do not question this fantasy have not investigated the problem.  The earliest records written in cuneiform on clay – which, according to Denise Schmandt-Besserat, evolved from tokens for debt – indicate divinity by placing a star above a person or the name of the person. That seems natural to us who place our God(s) in Heaven.  (Those who identify their goddess with the earth have another narrative.)  Thus, when coins were issued as bonus payments to mercenaries about 600 BCE, they often carried stars in many forms.  In addition to the obvious “floral bursts” the coins of Croesus (Kroisos) show a bull confronting a lion.  (Other coins of the same time show a "hairy wart" on the nose of the Lion.) Does that symbolize Taurus and Leo?  And if so, in what context?  And where is the Scorpion?  The Bull, the Lion, and the Scorpion were the first points of the so-called “zodiac” of the ecliptic that was finalized only in Roman times when the Claws of the Scorpion became Libra to make 12 Constellations, analogous to the 12 months – and the 12 Olympians. 

But none of that is in Faintaich.  His focus is the European Middle Ages.  Strong evidence supports the choice.  First, we have the coins.  In the years between Charlemagne and Columbus, perhaps a thousand issues are known.  Many have astronomical symbols.  Moreover, rather than being a “Dark Age” these were times when events were recorded in books stored in monasteries.  Those events also appear recorded on coins as a common medium of communication.  Therefore, it is only desk work to rely on modern astronomical software to run the clock back and look at the sky in medieval England, France, and Germany – and then compare those results to the attested times and places of mintage for coins with astronomical symbols.

Faintich builds a strong case.

At times, he over-reaches. And with good reason. Brad Wade and I talked this out in the context of the ethics in science. On the one hand, Faintich’s thesis is not completely defensible: some of his facts are not facts. On the other hand, he would have been remiss in not citing all the evidence, in only presenting the “points” that fit his “curve.”
“For example, he speaks entirely of secular authorities: counts, dukes, princes, kings and emperors.  Never does he address the bishops (including the bishop of Rome and the archbishop of Canterbury) who issued coins.  Faintich repeatedly states his major premise by referring to “the divine right of kings” a concept alien to the Catholics of the Middle Ages, but nicely enunciated to the English Parliament by the Protestant statesman, King James VI of Scotland.  By not examining coins issued by ecclesiastic authorities and by ignoring the actual conflicts of church versus crown, Faintich undermines the theory that pellets, annulets, stars, mullets, crescents, combs and bars were intended as symbols of divine favor for mundane rulers.”   Bulletin of the Society for the History of Astronomy (Issue 21, Autumn 2011.)
Trained in mathematics (BS) and astronomy (MA and PhD), Faintich does more than argue his point. He offers four criteria that must be met to show that the astronomical events correlate with the intent of the coin.

“First the date of the coin bearing an astronomical symbol must be ascertained. Second, the astronomical symbol must be the first such occurrence for that coin design or a reintroduction of the symbol after a substantial period of time to rule out immobilization of the design. Third, the occurrence of the astronomical event must be established. Fourth, and most difficult to ascertain, historical evidence must be presented that supports the observance and importance of the event.

"Generally, he succeeds. Philip Augustus was king of France 1180-1191; and in 1186, the five planets – Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn – were in a close conjunction, a cluster of only 6° at sunset; and we have a coin of Philip Augustus with five pellets in the center of the obverse. Faintich does this repeatedly for eclipses of the sun and moon, comets, and conjunctions." (The Mich-Matist (Vol XLVI No. 4, Autumn 2010)

Astronomy and numismatics are both fields where accomplished amateurs contribute alongside academic professionals. This book intersects both studies. Correlating celestial events with terrestrial history may be the best path for reconciling the calendars of the past. In other times and places New Year’s Day might have been what we call Halloween, or Christmas, or Easter. In the 16th century, “April Fool’s” were behind the times, though May Day had been New Years elsewhere and elsewhen. Midsummer’s Day is actually the Solstice, not August 4 (Walpurgis Night). So, when medieval women and men recorded their lives in diaries, we can too easily misunderstand their statements of time. Comparing their skies with their coins can help us bring everything into alignment. That is just one potential use for this overlooked but significant work.

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