Yehuda Halevi's Kuzari was written in response to the challenge posed to Judaism by a highly spiritual, nondenominational philosophy. Science, especially that embodied in the Hellenistic heritage, was a major component of philosophy; thus, if for no other reason than to make Judaism a serious competitor, Halevi had to show that the Jewish tradition as well possessed a body of scientific knowledge. The superiority of the Jewish teachings was demonstrated chiefly by appeal to the criteria of tradition, consensus, and authority, which, in Halevi's judgement, were in practice the criteria most influential in deciding scientific opinion. Despite the rather unique setting for the book, and the wide range of stances Halevi develops, the Kuzari was rather quickly and smoothly absorbed into the mainstream of Jewish religious thought.

It was commonly accepted in the middle ages that void within or outside the world is impossible. The paper presents a quite unusual conception of void, which is described in Yeda'aya ha-Penini's commentary on Ibn Rushd's epitome on Aristotle's Physics. According to this conception there is a thin layer of void between the water and the inner surface of the container. Ha-Penini describes two versions of this conception. According to one version this void layer is three-dimensional but thin, according to the other it is two-dimensional. The first part of the paper shows how ha-Penini “corrects” the text of Ibn Rushd, putting into it ideas which were unknown to Ibn Rushd. It is argued that, though the two views are rejected by Ibn Rushd, ha-Penini himself partly accepts (his version of) these views. The second part of the paper argues that ha-Penini could not have found these views in the Arabic-Hebrew tradition, and it seems that he relied on Christian sources. If this is indeed so, the paper presents an example of acquaintance of Hebrew scholars in southern France with Scholastic science in the first half of the fourteenth century.

The major part of the mathematical “classics” in Hebrew were translated from Arabic between the second third of the thirteenth century and the first third of the fourteenth century, within the northern littoral of the western Mediterranean. This movement occurred after the original works by Abraham bar Hiyya and Abraham ibn Ezra became available to a wide readership. The translations were intended for a restricted audience — the scholarly readership involved in and dealing with the theoretical sciences. In some cases the translators themselves were professional scientists (e.g., Jacob ben Makhir); in other cases they were, so to speak, professional translators, dealing as well with philosophy, medicine, and other works in Arabic.

In aketshing this portrait of the beginning of Herbrew scholarly mathematics, my aim has been to contribute to a better understanding of mathematical activity as such among Jewish communities during this period.

Levi ben Gerson, also known as Gersonides or Leo de Balneolis, was one of the most original Jewish thinkers of the Middle Ages, and he wrote on logic, philosophy, biblical exegesis, mathematics, and astronomy. During the last years of his life he maintained relations with the papal court of Clement VI (1342–52) at Avignon, and collaborated in the translation into Latin of his Sefer Tekhuna (Book of Astronomy). The object of this paper is to establish the main stages of the redaction of the Hebrew and Latin extant versions of his astronomical work. Although Levi declares that the work was finished in 1328,1 argue that this text was the preliminary draft of the preserved one, most of which was composed after 1338. A thorough revision of the work was undertaken at an indeterminate date before 1344. It is also argued that the final form of the work was probably due to the request of solar and lunar tables made to Levi by “great and noble Christians” around 1332.

It is well known that the Tractatus of Peter of Spain (later Pope John XXI) was one of the most popular logic textbooks in the Middle Ages and early Renaissance. Less known is the Tractatus's considerable reputation and diffusion among the Jews, as evidenced by five translations, two commentaries, and what appears to be an abbreviatio — if not of the Tractatus itself, then of a similar work. The present article attempts to understand the phenomenon of the Tractatus's popularity and offers an analysis of the three translations whose authors are known — those by Shemaryah ha-Ikriti (Greece, early to mid-fourteenth century), Abraham Abigdor (late fourteenth century), and Judah b. Samuel Shalom (either Italy or Spain, mid-fifteenth century) — and their subsequent fate. The more popular versions of Abraham Abidgor and Judah Shalom provided Jewish students, many of whom would likely become physicians, with a grounding in logic comparable to that of their Christian counterparts.

On 22 December 1827, a letter was received by the council of the newly founded London University from a ‘Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge ċ desirous of becoming a Candidate for the Mathematical Chair in the University of London’. The letter proceeded ‘to refer the Council to the Tutors of Trinity College, and to his degree in the Tripos of 1827, for testimonials of qualifications &c’. Two months later, the applicant received a brief note ‘informing you that the Council yesterday elected you professor of Mathematics after the most distinguished competition that there has been for any chair’. The recipient was (with the exception of the years 1831–36) to remain in this position for over a third of a century, during which time he would establish and maintain not only the reputation of the fledgling university, but also his own as a highly respected mathematician and logician. His name was Augustus De Morgan.

... and signs and the signs of signs are used only when we are lacking things.

Brother William of Baskerville in The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco

Recreating, as part of doing history, can be a way of reflecting what creating is as part of science. Discussions revolving around historical understanding of the scientific enterprise have recently included strong commitments to turn scientific practice into one of the main objectives of historical study. One specific methodological approach to face up to this assignment is integrating the reconstruction and reperformance of past experiments into the historical analysis of the doing-part in science. This paper deals with the doing-part in history, that is, with the historiographical consequences that might stem from this reconstruction and reperformance of past experimentation. In the course of a four-month period of research I worked with a replica of the so-called ‘actinometer’, an instrument to measure the intensity of solar radiation, which was invented by John Herschel in 1824. On the basis of this example, I try to trace how recent performances of experimental activities can contribute to historical understanding of human agency in scientific practice.

When the editorial board of the British Journal for the History of Science was considering ways to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the foundation of the British Society for the History of Science, it was quickly decided that the occasion presented an ideal opportunity for publishing a collection of student essays. For few areas have changed so much over the last fifty years as the actual teaching of the history of science. When the Society began in 1947, the subject was offered in only three universities: Oxford, Cambridge and London. Now, in 1997, it is available in more than twenty-two institutions across the country and in many more worldwide. University teaching has become an essential part of our professional activities – essential and greatly valued. And the work of students today is of a calibre hardly anticipated fifty years ago. By publishing a selection of student papers during this Anniversary year, we aim to celebrate the strengths of our subject at the institutional level.

Historical accounts of the practice of smallpox inoculation in the late eighteenth century invariably make a distinction between the widespread general inoculations carried out within small rural parishes and the partial inoculations in urban centres such as London, Manchester, Newcastle and Leeds. This distinction, moreover, is generally reinforced by concluding that the rural inoculation programmes were ‘highly effective’ or ‘successful’ in contrast with the urban inoculation schemes, which are often seen as ‘marginally effective’ or indeed ‘failing’. Success or failure tends to be judged by the impact which inoculation had upon reducing mortality from smallpox, but as a result of this demographic focus the motives behind the implementation of urban inoculation have been overlooked. My paper readjusts this balance by looking more closely at motives and by judging success in relation to aims. To achieve this I have taken a new approach towards the history of smallpox inoculation as a whole, and portray the basic idea of giving a person smallpox in order to confer subsequent immunity as being modified in the hands of different people throughout the course of the century. Hence it is possible to trace the development of inoculation from a folk practice carried out within the home with the aim of protecting individuals, to large-scale general inoculations of an entire community, which aimed to eradicate the disease altogether.