18 2014 ARCHEOLOGIA POSTMEDIEVALE S O C I E T À A M B I E N T E P R O D U Z I O N E A RCHEOLOGI A POSTMEDIEVA LE 18 archeologia dei relitti postmedievali archaeology of post-medieval shipwrecks a cura di Carlo Beltrame 2014 All’Insegna del Giglio archeologia dei relitti postmedievali archaeology of post-medieval shipwrecks a cura di edited by Carlo Beltrame Indice Editoriale 11 Carlo Beltrame, Introduzione Carlo Beltrame, Premessa 13 17 1 Metodologia Methodology Vibeke Bischoff, anton englert, Søren Nielsen, Morten Ravn, Post-excavation documentation, reconstruction and experimental archaeology applied to clinker-built ship-inds from Scandinavia 21 Mark Staniforth, Jun Kimura, lê thi lien, Defeating the leet of Kublai Khan: the Bach Dang River and Van Don Naval battleields research project 31 2 Relitti ShipwReCKS Max guérout, Epave de la lomellina (1516). Système d’épuisement des eaux de cale 49 Renato gianni Ridella, Francesco laratta, Un cannone veneziano fuso nel 1518 per gli Ospedalieri di San Giovanni a Rodi, dal mare della Calabria (loc. Porticciolo, Isola di Capo Rizzuto – KR) 63 Massimiliano ditta, Jens auer, thijs Maarleveld, Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology 83 th eric Rieth, he 18 century EP 1-Epagnette wreck, River Somme (France): a irst assessment of the underwater excavations (2011-2013) 105 Marcel pujol i hamelink, pablo de la Fuente de pablo, Roses II or lamproie: a French storeship sunk in 1809 at the Bay of Roses (Catalonia, Spain) 129 Francesca Bertoldi, Carlo Beltrame, Carlotta Sisalli, Human skeletal remains from the shipwreck of the brig Mercurio (1812) 145 Stefania Manfio, La cucina del relitto del brig Mercurio (1812) 157 deborah Cvikel, yaacov Kahanov, he Ottoman period shipwrecks of Dor (Tantura) Lagoon, Israel 177 Kroum Batchvarov, Rigging and sailing the Kitten ship: a hypothetical reconstruction 189 3 ReCeNSioNi ReViewS Mauro librenti, Sveti pavao Shipwreck, A 16th Century Venetian Merchantman, from Mljet, Croatia, by Carlo Beltrame, Sauro gelichi and igor Miholjek, oxbow Books, oxford 2014 203 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A reflection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology Massimiliano Ditta*, Jens Auer*, hijs Maarleveld* Hoover, Hoover 1950) can be studied archaeologically (Willies 1982; Tylecote 1992; Molenda 2001; Chirikure et al. 2010; Maarleveld, Overmeer 2012). he practices and technology certainly developed long before they became the object of study of universal scientists and long before they were committed to paper and print. So, practice and technology preceded intellectual discussion of theory and ideas. Speciic aspects of metal-working, notably gun-founding, follow their own logic (Guilmartin 2003; Beltrame, Ridella 2011). Guns, after all, are at the key of military eforts and strategic investments, and subject to scientiic research with that speciic perspective. In such a military context transfer of knowledge and transfer of technology are very closely connected. So, in that sense, Cipolla’s emphasis on guns is well-chosen. The logic of present-day military-industrial espionage and promotion and prevention of transfer of ideas and technology can probably be used to explain historical processes in this speciic technological domain. In relation to naval shipbuilding, the extensive espionage that Colbert commissioned in order to strengthen the navy of Louis XIV (Rieth 1984; Ferreiro 2007, pp. 64-67) certainly suggests a similar model of explanation for ships and maritime technology at large. But is it as simple as that? What about Early Modern merchant ships as opposed to naval technology? How does the one feed into the other and the other into the one? But, more importantly, are ideas and technology indeed spread in the same way and at the same pace? Or is practical entropy in the way, and are technological messages translated and transformed, rather than transmitted? In this article such questions will be explored and illustrated in view of several diferent strands of research. First, the spread of ideas relating to the harmonious modelling and design of well-proportioned ships will be explored from the perspective of the history of ideas. his section is more about mathematics, architects and mathematicians than it is about practical shipbuilders. In a way, it takes up the issues discussed in the inspiring volume Creating Shapes in Civil and Naval Architecture (Nowacki, Lefèvre 2009). As the connection 1. Introduction archaeological research of the remains of early Modern merchant ships is gradually helping us to understand the technicalities of what is so easily indicated as transfer of technology in the early Modern period in a repetition of the idea ‘ex oriente lux’, a repetition that perhaps even is implied in the term ‘Renaissance’ itself, the simpliied template of thinking is that ideas and technology travelled from east to west and from Renaissance Italy to northern Europe. Such a simpliied approach is certainly fostered by Carlo M. Cipolla’s seminal book of 1965 with its title Guns, sails and Empires, Technological Innovation and the Early Phases of European expansion, 1400-1700 (Cipolla 1965). But is the template supported by the actual material that has been preserved in the archaeological record and whose analysis is gradually becoming available and putting the template to the test? Partly perhaps, and quite apart from the archaeological evidence there is no question that ideas in that speciic period have been shared by a growing number of lucid and enlightened intellectuals. Although the spread of ideas in this particular period certainly followed other mechanisms than the models for the spread of agriculture or human populations with which Luigi Cavalli-Sforza (Ammerman, Cavalli-Sforza 1973; Cavalli-Sforza, Cavalli-Sforza 1995) has inluenced prehistoric archaeology, there can be no doubt that an intensiied spread of intellectual concepts and ideas occurred and that Italy was one of its nodal points. here is equally no doubt that this spread was closely related to the introduction of paper, relief printing and the practical use of the printing press (Cohen 2010). But is the spread of ideas the same as transfer of technology? Does transfer of technology follow the spread of ideas? Or is it the other way round? Metals, metallurgy and the archaeology of mining are an obvious ield where such questions can be addressed, and where the practical background for Biringuccio’s and Agricola’s scientiic work of the 16th century (Stanley Smith, Teach Gnudi 1990; * University of Southern Denmark. 83 Archeologia Postmedievale 18, 2014, pp. 83-104 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld respected mathematician as well. In fact, his early work involved algebraic solutions pertaining to Descartes’ folium and sections of the cone, issues that are relevant to the present discussion (de Waard 1911). Even if Ole Judichaer’s thinking had Dutch inspirations, however, his approaches are far of from contemporary practice in Holland in terms of ship design and construction technology. Last, but not least some discussion will be devoted to Early Modern England, for which the analysis of the Princes Channel wreck (Auer, Maarleveld 2014) has conirmed that ‘Venetian’ methods of design, as recommended by Mathew Baker in ‘Fragments of Ancient Shipwrightry’ were indeed en vogue in Baker’s time, but not to the full extent, and not with the desired result. he article will conclude with some further considerations on how practice inluences thinking, and how hard it is to force new concepts, whatever their scientiic status, onto long established practice in the crafts. between italy and the rich source material in Spain and portugal (and their dependencies) is relatively well studied (e g da Gama Pimentel Barata et al. 1996; Alves 2001; Castro, Custer 2008), the focus will be on the connexion between Italy and central Europe, not a shipbuilding area perhaps, but a centre of book production and learning and of great inluence to northern Europe. Surprisingly, Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528), better known for his striking engravings of religious motives or his portraits of contemporary humanists than for any skills in shipbuilding, takes a central place in this discussion. he relevance is that in the seething Renaissance as we conceive it, the skills of artists, architects and mathematicians frequently coincide, whereas some mathematicians – homas Harriot (c. 1560-1621) is an early example in England – apply their mathematical knowledge as shipbuilders or by imposing it on those who are. As a sequence to this, the practice of Ole Judichaer (1661-1729) will be presented, a young mathematician again, who built warships rather than merchant ships for the Danish king at the end of the seventeenth century. he section derives from Massimiliano Ditta’s work on Early Modern (war-) ship models kept in the Royal Danish Naval Museum in Copenhagen (Ditta 2014). Subsequently, building on the work of Lemée (2006), Hoving (2012) and Maarleveld (2013) practice and theory in the Low Countries will be discussed on the basis of the limited written technical sources and the growing body of archaeological material. In view of the general discussion on transfer of technology, it is interesting to note that Ole Judichaer’s work displays aspects that conform to the (intellectual) discussions and practice associated with Italy and with developments in architecture. His experience in the Mediterranean however is limited or non-existent and he claims to derive his ideas from the Dutch Republic. Intellectually and mathematically, this can well have been the case. Simon Stevin (1548-1620) and Christiaan Huygens (1629-1695) come to mind as authoritatively representing the creative mathematical and engineering milieu. But it is equally noteworthy that Johannes Hudde (1628-1704), who was to be burgomaster of Amsterdam at the start of Judichaer’s career, and who – somewhat earlier and in response to a dispute over the Danish rules applied for levying toll – has designed the alternative tonnage calculations that are integrally inserted in Witsen’s Aeloude en Hedendaegsche Scheeps-bouw en Bestier (Witsen 1671, pp. 242-247) was a 2. Albrecht Dürer and a worldview dominated by geometry Towards the end of the 15th century, Albrecht Dürer became one of the leading artists in Renaissance Europe who created a sensible connection between art and science. He never referred to himself as a scientist or mathematician, but extensively used geometry in his pursuit of beauty. As a sort of Poeta Vate hovering between scientiic investigation and craft, he elevated the igure of the craftsman to that of the artist. He claimed that this was attained by the pursuit of wide-ranging knowledge and the perfection of skills while grounding them in theory. Indeed, Dürer allegedly coined the German word for art: ‘Kunst’, derived from the verb können, to know (Dominiczak 2012, p. 1170). Besides his art, he produced texts that did not only reach fellow artists but which inluenced renowned mathematicians as Tartaglia (1499/1500-1557) and Cardano (1501-1576), as well as famous scientists such as Galilei (1564-1642) and Kepler (1571-1630) (Silver 2012, p. 408). Dürer was born in Nuremberg into a goldsmith family and already at the age of 14, he was apprenticed to the painter and illustrator Michael Wolgemut (1434-1519), a pioneer of printing and woodcut design. In his artistic career, Dürer went to Venice twice, irst in 1494 and a second time in the early 1500eds. During his irst visit he probably came in contact with the Venetian artist Jacopo dé 84 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology and is the irst work of this kind to be written in German. In fact, it is the irst to release the notions of Greek mathematicians such as Euclid and Apollonius from their philological restraints. he eclectic handbook opens with the deinition of a line, moving through the descriptions of spirals, conchoids and it closes with the presentation of elaborate mechanical devices for accurate drawing in perspective (ig. 1). Moreover, the construction of regular polygons and polyhedrons are given and explained. he deinitions and constructions of geometrical igures are clearly drawn from the Elements of Euclid, while the whole book dedicated to architecture is derived from the work of Vitruvius. he most relevant elements of his treatise in the present context are related to the re-discovery of the concept of conic sections – ellipse, parabola, and hyperbola – and their representation. On this topic Dürer learned most of what he knew from his friend and mentor Johannes Werner (14681528). Werner was not only a mathematician but also an astronomer, instrument maker, and priest. Since the invention of conic sections, which is attributed to Menaechmus (4th century BC), the most complete study on the matter – including the terminology and deinitions that Dürer used – was conducted by Apollonius of Perga (c. 262-c. 190 BC) who wrote it down in 8 books. he irst original work on conic sections since the time of Apollonius was written by Werner. It appeared in 1522 (Koudela 2005, p. 198). his means that the work of Dürer and Werner were the best accessible on the matter until Apollonius’ treatise was republished in Venice in 1541 (Rosin 2001, p. 59). Whereas Werner mainly focused on the study of the parabola and hyperbola for solving the duplication of the cube (Koudela 2005, p. 198), Dürer was primarily interested in the graphical construction of these igures. By using his craftsman’s tools Dürer aimed to translate and transform them into the improved painter’s art. Hence, his understanding of and approach to the conics is more intuitive rather than purely mathematical (Pack 1996). His ingenuity is evident in the construction of the ellipse, which in German he called the ‘egg line’ (eyer linie). Also, despite his own evidence, Dürer constructed the ellipse as an egg-shaped igure, without the full symmetry of a truly mathematical one (ig. 2). It is a mistake that persisted in German works for nearly a century (Silver 2012, p. 412). As already mentioned, the most signiicant element in Dürer’s Underweysung der Messung, besides the reinvention of conics as such, is the technique used ig. 1 – Albrechts Dürer’s Underweysung der Messung was printed in Nuremberg in 1525. It is best known for its presentation of elaborate mechanical devices for drawing in perspective, as on this inal woodcut. Even more fundamentally important, however, is the deinition and construction of geometrical igures, such as regular polygons and polyhedrons, of conic sections: ellipse, parabola, and hyperbola. Compare the image with ig. 11. (Folio Riii, SLUB Dresden). Barbari (c 1465-c 1515) and learned about linear perspective (Morrall 2011, p. 109). he visit seems to have been a formative experience for the young Dürer. It deined his attitude toward the arts and he became convinced that the secret of beauty could be revealed through the use of mathematics (Silver 2012, p. 409). During his second visit to Venice he purchased a copy of Euclid’s work and visited Bologna «to learn the secrets of the art of perspective» (Morrall 2011, p. 110), two facts that clearly show his interest in mathematics and geometry. On his return to Nuremberg, a motivated Dürer began to write an ambitious handbook which addressed all the disciplines of artists. he work entitled Underweysung der Messung was printed in Nuremberg in 1525, just three years before Dürer’s death. he manual is divided in 4 books 85 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld Dürer with his Underweysung der Messung was able to transform a common technique of masons and goldsmiths into a mode of representation, as well as introducing projective representation into the core of craft practice and laying a solid foundation for the modern means of representation in architecture (Pack 1996, p. 29). While Dürer with his writings connected the two diferent worlds of theory and practice, his approach was at the same time part of the world around him. His focus is on revealing to craftsmen how to construct geometrical entities, by being able to describe them, if not understand them. Both Renaissance artists and scientists conceived of the surrounding world as an assemblage of entities that make up a coherent – and harmonious – whole. A valid general statement about the Renaissance mind is that it investigates the structure of an object or a system, as that structure reveals the divine design (Darst 1983, p. 77). In a way the efort of Renaissance thinking is directed towards itting the world into a mental construction in order to ind symmetrical and harmonic structures that bind the parts to the whole. hus, everything can be described arithmetically and geometrically. Or, to say it in the words of Nicola di Cusa: “Mathematics are a very great help in the understanding of different divine truths” (De docta ignorantia, 1440). ig. 2 – Albrecht Dürer’s ingenuity is evident in the construction of the ellipse, as illustrated in his Underweysung der Messung. Quite aptly, he called the ellipse ‘eyer linie’, because notwithstanding his own reasoning and evidence, he constructed the ellipse as an eggshaped igure, without full mathematical symmetry. It is a mistake that stuck (Folio Ciiii, SLUB Dresden). 3. Ellipses everywhere, from Dürer to Ole Judichaer for drawing them. he method employed by Dürer is a series of parallel projections, a technique that was familiar to every architect and carpenter but that had never before been applied to the solution of a purely mathematical problem (Panofsky 1971, p. 255). But in fact the transformation which Dürer efected was of a radical nature (Pack 1996, p. 28). he mason’s technique had not been representational and had not been applied to a representational problem in another realm. Dürer’s transformation, however, entailed the extraction and isolation of the formal aspect of the mason’s operation, away from practice, away from the real life situation, away from the material. Consequently, this formal aspect was then representationally redeployed on the abstract surface of a blank page of paper (Pack 1996, p. 28). hus, Dürer’s work was able to bridge and connect the isolated world of mathematical speculation and actual craft practice. he Renaissance emphasis on geometry was married to a sense of an expanding world. his was due to the explorations, to Copernicus’ groundbreaking cosmological concepts and Kepler’s theory of the planets. In architecture elliptical orbits were translated as the form that represents ‘stretching’ of space: the ellipse that stretches the circle. he ellipse was thus designed to have an emotional impact on the viewer (Hammond et al. 2005, p. 178). he new vision of the world and interest in the elliptical forms strongly determined baroque architecture of Europe. As such, the ellipse can be regarded as symbol of the shift between the Renaissance and Baroque worlds. Although several Italian renaissance architects had already used elliptical shapes in their constructions, it was the civil architects of seventeenth century Europe that really developed a passion for the elliptic form. his relects the mathematical and astronomical enthusiasm for the ellipse as geometrical igure 86 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology (Proia and Menghini 1984, p. 209). Astronomy, stirred by the heliocentric theory of Copernicus at the end of the 16th century, focused on the form of the orbit of a planet. Johannes Kepler (15711630) reconstructed the orbit of Mars, with the help of the observations of the eminent Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe (1546-1601), and came to the conclusion that the only possible form had to be elliptical (Mazer 2010, p. 260). A letter written to fellow astronomer David Fabricius (1564-1617), and dated October 11, 1605, reveals that Kepler had read Dürer’s description of conics: “So, Fabricius, I already have this: that the most true path of the planet [Mars] is an ellipse, which Dürer also calls an oval, or certainly so close to an ellipse that the diference is insensible.” Kepler’s ideas reached Italy, both through his works and through direct contacts with Galilei. he impact and resonance in intellectual and artistic circles seems to have been substantial. It is remarkable that Italian architects started to develop an interest for the elliptical form just at the time when the works of Kepler, Copernicus and Galilei were banned in 1616 (Proia, Menghini 1984, p. 205). In theory, the construction of the ellipse is prominent in architectural treatises all through the Baroque period. In practice, however, it was rarely used because of the diiculty of reproducing it. Complex aspects of geometry were in fact always tempered by the common sense of the builder and the necessity of quickly erecting a solid structure (Huerta 2008, p. 245). Instead of ellipses, oval shapes were preferred. An oval was considered a close approximation of the ellipse – even by Kepler – but far more practical. he geometrical diiculties of laying out an oval were resolved by the simplest methods, through the use of triangles and circles, as already found in the late Renaissance with Serlio’s treatise from 1537 (Rosin 2001, p. 61). In 17th century England, a long debate started among shipwrights about the best form for the rising-line of the loor. It is a (ship-)architectural concept that is central to some design traditions, if not for others. In an anonymous treatise from 1628 the ellipse form, extracted by a mathematical method using trigonometry, is suggested as the most suitable (Lavery 1984, p. 14). For the rest of the 17th century the elliptical rising-line does not seem to be proposed again, but evidently there is a lack of early lines plans. At the end of the 17th century, Sir Anthony Deane (1638-1721) adopted a mechanical approach. He used sweeps, relecting fig. 3 – The life-size ellipsograph that the engineer Renau d’Élissagaray used for the construction of elliptical curves on timber for a man-of-war as illustrated on folio 13 of his Mémoire sur la construction des vaisseaux dans lequel il y a une méthode pour en constuire les façons of the early 1680ies. he ellipsograph allows for the drawing of a quarter section of an ellipse, but the setting of sliding points a and b is very sensitive. It needs careful algebraic elaboration of the equations to produce the exact desired ellipse. (Archives Nationales: Mar D1 10; after Brioist, Vérin 2008). the use of the circle for deining the rising-line (as well as the rest of the hull), which according to Deane’s words was found to be the best shape after he tried both elliptical and diminishing lines (Deane, Lavery 1981, p. 60). In French naval architecture, there was likewise a short period of using the ellipse for deining the rising-line, although this was somewhat later. In 1680, the method of Louis XIV’s engineer Renau d’Élissagaray (1652-1719) for the construction of a man-of-war was applied for the irst time (Vérin 2008). Renau’s approach was the result of a long debate regarding the best shape for the hull of a vessel which blazed between mathematicians and naval ‘engineers’ in the last decades of the 17th century (Ferreiro 2007, 52f). Indeed, where geometry alone was not able to justify what was needed; physics, astronomy and the harmony of spheres provided an answer. he French royal engineer came to the conclusion that the best ship 87 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld ig. 4 – Sheer plan of Prinz Carl/Prinz Wilhelm, designed by Ole Judichaer in December 1695. It is the irst oicial plan that bears his signature. he rising line is elliptical in that it is constructed out of two quarter sections of two diferent ellipses. (Danish National Archive: Søetaten kort – og tegningssamling: A992). tion at the naval shipyard of Bremerholm. In 1692 his career took a dramatic leap forward when he was oicially appointed fabrikmester, a position he would keep until his dismissal in 1727 (Bricka et al. 1887, p. 555). he position was created with a view to supervise and control shipbuilding procedures. However, under Judichær, the irst to hold the post, it quickly evolved from that of a process manager into that of an actual designer or naval architect (Bjerg, Erichsen 1980, p. 16). From 1695 onwards Judichær’s name will oicially appear on lines plans used in ship construction. he irst drawings to bear his signature are those for the sister-ships Prinz Carl and Prinz Wilhelm, launched in 1696 (ig. 4). he analysis of the body plan of the sister-ships shows that the underwater hull was designed with the use of two circular non-tangential sweeps according to a proportion taken from the maximum breadth. In some aspects this approach is similar to what can be found both in the master frame design of the Frenchman Dassié and in the theoretical construct given by Witsen, which will be discussed below. Moreover – and more importantly in the present context – the analysis reveals an interesting insight in the use of the ellipse. he rising line of the loor, the curve of the outer ends of the loor timbers, was identiied by Probst (1993, p. 31-33) as a line composed of two segments of two diferent ellipses. his characteristic is present in all sheer plans Judichær drafted during his career. Probst came to his conclusions thanks to what is considered the irst Danish text on naval architecture (Rasmussen 1986, p. 28). he 12 page booklet with the title Een liden Søe-Architectur was writ- form had to be an ellipse and elaborated his own method for the design of the hull, where segments of ellipse had to be used. he curves were designed through the use of a special ellipsograph (ig. 3). But irst, reference points for each curve and a long set of algebraic equations for the machine needed to be established (Brioist, Vérin 2008). Renau’s reasoning was based in the most modern mathematical ideas of his day. Renau’s ellipses were the result of algebraic equations and the operation of elementary geometry. hey were thus an example of what Descartes (1596-1650) deined as a ‘geometrical curve’ as opposed to a ‘mechanical curve’ that results from the practical use of simple appliances, such as strings, nails and battens (Ferreiro 2007, p. 43). Despite the construction of several frigates and the successful 56-gun Le Bon (Vérin 2008, p. 194), Renau’s method was rapidly abandoned. he problem was the inconvenience of a full scale ellipsograph and the mathematical knowledge required to work out the equations. Too much could go wrong. Although the French constructors were highly trained with practical knowledge of arithmetic and geometry, they often had little formal education. he mathematical basis necessary for this method, unlike the application of ‘mechanical curves’ that could actually be drawn by means of sweeps, was far beyond a practical approach (Ferreiro 2007, p. 74). Contemporary to Renau d’Élissagaray, the application of the ellipse in naval architecture made its appearance in Denmark. he Danish mathematician and theologian Ole Judichær (1661-1729), student of the scientist Ole Rømer (1644-1710), entered the ranks of the navy in 1690, with a posi88 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology ten in 1723 by lauritz Bragenes (1687-1729), a student of Judichær in the treatise Bragenes describes the three conic sections and explains the method of calculation of sections of ellipses through the use of descriptive geometry and a table (ig. 5). he method he used to create an ellipse is known in architecture as the ‘lengthened arc’: to create an ellipse with given dimensions for the two axes, a quarter of an arc is drawn with a radius of one half of the minor axis. he base of the igure so created is divided in four equal parts and vertical lines are drawn. he lines are transposed and doubled (mirrored) on the length of the major axis which has been divided in eight equal parts. A similar method, using twelve rather than four or eight control points had been published in Dürer’s handbook (ig. 6). he method consists in irst inscribing the semicircle in a rectangle with a 1: 2 ratio. Subsequently, the base of the rectangle is divided in twelve equal parts and vertical lines are drawn. Another rectangle of the same height and of the desired length is drawn and the base is divided in the same number of parts; again, vertical lines are drawn. he intersection of these lines with the horizontal lines from the intersection of the semicircle with the vertical lines in the irst rectangle will give the points of the desired arch. he curve created with this method is an ellipse, yet Dürer does not mention it. In fact, it was only in 1640 that the mathematician Paul Guldin (1577-1643) discovered the elliptical nature of the curve (Huerta 2008, p. 224). he methods Judichær adopts sit somewhat midway in architectural theory. On the one hand he uses geometrical curves in the pure Cartesian ig. 5 – In his een liden Søe-architectur of 1723 Lauritz Bragenes explains how to create an ellipse with given dimensions for the two axes by the method known as ‘lengthened arc’. Bragenes was a student of Judichær. His method echoes Dürer’s approach, although he only uses 8 sections rather than 12. See also ig. 6. ig. 6 – Dürer’s very clear explanatory drawing of the ‘lengthened arc’ method of constructing half an ellipse. Strangely enough Dürer does not mention the elliptical nature of the curve, which mathematically spoken is more correct than his egg-line. In fact, it was only in 1640 that this was discovered by the mathematician Paul Guldin (Underweysung der Messung folio Ciii; Bibliothèque Nationale). 89 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld Nevertheless that is the picture that emerges from recent archaeological research, and the written sources of the period relating to shipbuilding in the Dutch Republic, need to be interpreted in that light – quite surprisingly perhaps. he continuing tradition of of-hand boatbuilding in which a client had to fully trust the builder for his skills in shaping a vessel to his desires and speciications, while building it in a shell-irst order, and that survived for smaller craft right into the 20th century has been discussed in international anthropological and archaeological literature ever since Hasslöf ’s seminal essay of 1972 (Hasslöf 1972). hat the same processes applied to the larger merchant vessels of the Early Modern period, has become patently obvious through the analysis of the construction of a range of large and middle large vessels of which the archaeological data and contextual information have become available over the last decades (Maarleveld 1992; 2013). Larger lush-planked vessels, like smaller ones, were basically built in a shell-irst sequence, for which spijkerpennen in regular perpendicular rows on both sides of a seam in the planking are the characteristic archaeological evidence (ig. 7). hese are small wooden plugs illing a hole left by a removed nail or spike in order to prevent the timber to rot at that point. In transverse rows they represent temporary clamps holding the planks together during construction. Christian Lemée convincingly showed how some of the temporary clamps may have doubled as a mould for a particular angle between keel and garboard or between planks at the turn of the bilge (Lemée 2006, p. 173). Guidance for angles is an important aspect in shell-irst shipbuilding (Christensen 1972; De Leeuwe 2004, pp. 31-36). Moreover, a range of analytical, experimental and archaeological research, including that of Lemée, suggests that several aids and appliances have – if necessary or useful – assisted in realizing a cross-section that is wished for (Lemée 2006, p. 192). his is also conirmed by the scant written and pictorial evidence, as well as supported by later discussions and later ways of building a wide variety of ship types in the Low Countries. In fact, both the historical, the archaeological and the anthropological evidence shows that Dutch shipbuilding – or more speciically building ships in the Dutch Flush manner – comprises a whole toolbox of skills-based rules and techniques that could be drawn upon to support the builder’s eye in shaping the hull and assisting him in control of symmetry along the main axis. One could argue that some meaning, just like Renau on the other, he also uses mechanical curves, just like deane. he frame sections for the hull are traced by the means of sweeps. hese are mechanical curves and consequently easy to reproduce by the master shipbuilders. he rising-line of the loor, however – which was not a line to be replicated on the shipyard – is conceived as a geometrical curve. It is found by means of descriptive geometry and not easy to trace by an instrument. he elliptical shape is a constant of 17th century civil architecture. It probably seeped into the naval architecture milieu as a consequence, a process that was strengthened by developing notions in physics and astronomy. he segments of ellipse traced by Judichær, however, do not belong to the early baroque practice of the oval, traced by means of sweeps and triangles, or to the trigonometrical approach proposed in 1628, but to the realm of descriptive geometry rooted in Dürer and mathematized by Descartes. his is not surprising since Judichær, as a mathematician, had knowledge of Descartes’ works (Ditta 2014, p. 26). And through his mentor Ole Rømer, member of the French Academy of Sciences until 1681, he was possibly aware of the French scientiic debate, from which the method of Renau d’Élissagaray emerged (Friedrichsen and Olsen 2004). hese debates could not have escaped mathematicians and engineers in the Dutch Republic, but saw no application in the practice of shipbuilding, as we will see in the following. 4. Shipbuilding in the Dutch Republic he shipbuilding industry in the Dutch Republic was booming business and quite central to its enormous economic development at the end of the 16th century (Unger 1978; de Vries, van der Woude 1995). Wealth and development were overwhelming (Schama 1988) and the intellectual climate profered every possibility for science, art and innovation. At least, that is how we understand or like to understand the Zeitgeist of the Dutch Republic in the 16th, 17th and at least the irst part of the 18th centuries. But does that mean that the two – shipbuilding and scientiic innovation – went hand in hand? It seems so very likely, both to us who look at the past as a foreign country (Lowenthal 1986) as for contemporary observers from abroad. In fact, it is hard to imagine they were more or less completely separate. 90 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology ig. 7 – Regular rows of small plugs (spijkerpennen) perpendicular to and on both sides of a seam in the planking are the characteristic archaeological evidence for a shell-irst building sequence of smaller, but also larger lush-planked vessels, as here in the outer surface of the second strake of the Scheurrak T 24 section that was lifted in 1984. he position of the treenails (most of them dottled) reveals the position of ive loors. he small plugs reveal the position of temporary clamps during the ‘Dutch Flush’ construction process (drawing: Rob Oosting). tom may or may not continue into swimheads fore and aft, but a hard chine is quite characteristic and so is the fact that the construction of the bottom and the itting of the sides are quite separate processes. In the Dutch Flush way of building larger, relatively lat-bottomed ships, similar approaches are encountered. And these, as well as shell-techniques used in hulls with overlapping strakes, constitute the main evidence to surmise strong traditions of continuity in shipbuilding all through the ‘high’ Middle Ages and well into modern times. his also means, however, that shellconstruction and bottom-based construction are not mutually exclusive. If they can be distinguished at all, they are certainly intermingled in the Dutch Flush solutions, where one sees a sort of constant alternation between round-bottomed hulls, and (cheaper!) lat-bottomed varieties (Huitema 1962; Dorleijn 1998). As the ‘round-bottomed’ vessels often display notable s-sections in bow and stern, and lack the clear distinction between bottom and sides (both in form and building procedure) the concept of bottom-based construction seems to be less applicable to their sharpest varieties, whereas it is perfectly applicable to the ‘lat-bottomed’ vessels. A nice example of the alternation between ‘round’ and ‘lat’-bottomed varieties is found if one considers the ‘waterschepen’ of the Zuiderzee and their cheaper lat-bottomed successors, the ‘botter’ and ‘kwak’, not to speak of the even more basic ‘schokker’ and ‘schouw’, as well as the again more sophisticated round-bottomed ‘bol’, ‘aak’ and ‘blazer’ (igs. 8, 9). Archaeologically, a sample of 41 waterschepen, mostly of the 16th and 17th century has been inves- of the approaches, and not least in relation to a boat or ship’s side above the turn of the bilge are often not so much ‘plank-led’ or fully consistent with shell-irst building processes, as ‘frame-led’. But that does not change the fact that a substantial part of the shell of planking is formed before any or most internal timbers are shaped and that even when some timbers are mounted, the process of thinking is still basically oriented towards the shell of planking: plank-oriented to use the terminology introduced by McGrail (1995, p. 143). All emphasis is on fairing, on smooth strakes of planking fore and aft. he planking (‘huid’ which equals ‘skin’ or ‘shell’ in Dutch) is the deining element in the creative process, in the modelling of the ship. hat is relected in the sequence of building: irst the planks, than the timbers. Let us dwell some more on the simple and basic, useful distinction that has become customary in the nautical archaeological trade. Italian, Iberian and many other ‘carvel’ ships are shaped on the basis of the cross-section and its physical representation, the frame, or rather the skeleton of frames. Dutch Flush ships are shaped on the basis of the shell of planking. ‘Skeleton construction’ versus ‘Shell construction’. Fred Hocker (2004), in attempt to emulate on this while integrating the analysis by Rieth (1978), has distinguished a third principle: ‘bottom-based construction’. It is a useful concept to consider in our understanding of developments. It describes the approach encountered in the construction of simple craft with a lat bottom and steep sides. hese may or may not have a central element or ‘keel plank’, and the lat of their bot91 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld from overlapping to lush strakes has not led to any fundamental changes in shape. he cross-section is similar, although subject to quite some variety. Formal, or rather mathematically derived criteria or proportions do not seem to be present. his is equally true for the simpliied cross-sections of its successors. he waterschepen and later types mentioned are mainly ishing vessels of a reasonable size (11 to over 20 m overall), but examples of similar alternation between complicated and simpler – lat-bottomed – varieties can be found in tidal and riverine trading vessels as well (Schutten 2004) (ig. 10). One must surmise that the same processes determine the variety in larger merchant ships, where prouder ships and cheaper ones alternate in similar fashion. his variety between more accomplished hull-shapes and more box-like ones is also what emerges from archaeology, with Scheurrak SO1, Inschot/Zuidoostrak, B&W5 and Batavia as examples of the irst, and B&W1, Aanloop Molengat and Scheurrak T24 as examples of the latter (Lemée 2006; Van Duivenvoorde 2008; Maarleveld 2013). In terms of building processes such variety seems to be characteristic. It is to be explained in terms of the large degree of freedom that the bottom-based and other Dutch Flush approaches ofered, while integrating a range tigated (Verwey et al. 2012). he examples predating 1500 AD are all built with overlapping strakes. In English one would say ‘clinker-built’, although strictly speaking they are not clinkered. By the end of the 16th century all waterschepen are built with lush-laid planking. Interestingly, the transition ig. 8 – he waterschip VAL7 was lifted for documentation in 2009. Like other waterschepen it has a relatively sharp underwater hull with a clear S-section. Although built in a Dutch Flush manner, the concept of bottom-based construction is less appropriate for the description of this hull (photo: Wouter Waldus). ig. 9 – he botter, in many ways a later variation of the waterschip, has the clear characteristics of bottom-based construction. he construction of the bottom and the itting of the sides for instance are quite separate phases in the building process. Like in other Dutch Flush approaches, temporary clamps are used to hold the planking together. (drawing: Peter Dorleijn; Nieuwland Erfgoedcentrum). 92 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology ig. 11 – In his Aeloude en Hedendaegsche Scheeps-bouw en Bestier of 1671 Nicolaes Witsen presents an approach that is often interpreted as representing Dutch design of a master frame. Recent archaeological and experimental research indicates that his ‘method’ has no basis in reality or practice in the shipyards of the Low Countries. It is a mental construct that is integrated in his otherwise descriptive work to show that Witsen is a well-read intellectual. fig. 10 – The alternation of round-bottomed ship-types and cheaper lat-bottomed varieties can be found in tidal and riverine trading vessels as well, as illustrated by these drawings in which a round-bottomed tjalk and a cheaper lat-bottomed praam – both from the 19th century – are juxtaposed (M. Ditta, based on van Konijnenburg 1895-1905, III, 27 and Sopers 1947, p. 94). very general indeed and must be taken as a set of skills-based rules of thumb, rather than anything else. It is quite diferent from proportional rules of design that address form and section that are so typical of the introduction of scientiic, which is mathematical, principles in Renaissance architecture, and that deine the discourse on building better, larger and more prestigious ships in other parts of Europe from the 14th century onwards. True, Witsen does present an approach that is often interpreted as representing Dutch design of a master frame (Witsen 1671, pp. 150-152) (ig. 11). But as Hoving (2012, p. 18) noted, there is nothing that indicates that the mathematical approach that Witsen presents relates to reality in the shipyards of the Low Countries. It is not corroborated by any archival material; it does not accord with Witsen’s own description of the construction of a 134 foot Pinas; neither is it in fact corroborated by archaeology. Hoving’s inference is that Witsen made up his scientiic model to show that he, as a scientist, is aware of such approaches elsewhere (Witsen 1671, pp. 195-208). Like other intellectuals of his time, he is after all thoroughly inluenced by the world-view discussed above, in which reality relects a proportional masterplan that can be mathematically described. But he is not very irm at all, and his attempt to theoretically describe what he observed is ill-succeeded (Hoving 2012, p. 18). his is consistent with our image of a prudent and curious collector of information of practices and frame oriented aids and appliances in a shell-irst building procedure. 5. Nicolaes Witsen and the interpretation of written sources In turn, the archaeological data on larger merchant ships helps to guide our understanding of the processes and technology as inferred from contemporary documents. Skills-based rules are certainly applied. Some of these are formalised and moreor-less codiied. In Witsen’s book of the late 17th century quite a few of these are reproduced and commented upon (Witsen 1671; Hoving 2012). Besides tricks to assist in the building process, they mostly take the form of proportions between the scantlings of diferent elements, representing adequate proportional strength (Witsen 1671, pp. 65-117). his is similar to the rules on the recommended weight of anchors or strengths of cables, rigging and ropes (Witsen 1671, pp. 117133). An exception perhaps is the general table of proportions that Witsen derives from master shipbuilder Jan Dirrikze Grebber (Witsen 1671, p. 114; Hoving 2012, p. 16). But this table is 93 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld readers, Peter was not at all satisied with Witsen’s book. He was not interested in erudite historical exposés, but in theory and the mathematical principles applied according to the doctrine of proportions. At irst he mistrusts the sincerity of Witsen’s answers. He includes work at the shipyards in his visit to the Republic, but the shipbuilders he consults cannot satisfy him any better and he will prefer English doctrines after that (Peters 2010, p. 162). here is, however, no reason to doubt Witsen’s descriptive observations (Hoving 2012; Maarleveld 2013). Nor is there any reason to doubt his sincerity, or surmise that he knowingly withheld information, as Peter suspected. he present body of archaeological data for small, larger and big vessels of his period, in combination with what we can infer from longue durée development relating to shipbuilding in the area, does hardly allow for another interpretation, and does hardly allow for attempts to integrate his work in overall trends of ‘scientiic’ shipbuilding. Dutch practice, while exposed to the best mathematical minds, remained immune to their theories of section. It is only during the 18th century that this will change, and then only in speciic institutional contexts. he changeover, in other words, is institutionally inspired (Maarleveld 1992, p. 169). But even then the changeover does not interfere with the large variety of hull forms or with the simultaneously continued practice of shell-irst building procedures. Whereas Peter was frustrated by the fact that no theory was revealed, other late 17th century observers, such as Arnoul and Rålamb were just as surprised. Arnoul remarks that no rules for dividing and calculating the sweeps of the cross-sections were adopted (Arnoul 1670, p. 12), and like Peter, he inds his observations in England more rewarding. hey it better to his thinking. Rålamb is appalled and uneasy that Dutch shipbuilders work at random without theory (Rålamb 1691, prel.v). Profound misunderstanding is the result, or rather … lies at its basis. For educated outsiders it is incredibly hard to conceive and concede that it is practice rather than theory that informs the shipbuilding industry of the Dutch Republic, and even harder to concede that relying on practice and skills-based rules was a very rational decision. Rational, that is in the context of the ine-grained, hugely intertwined, hugely eicient, but decentralized economics of the merchant Republic. Less rational perhaps in ig. 12 – Witsen may have based his ‘method’ on Georges Fournier’s hydrographie of 1643, but it is as likely that he based it on Furttenbach’s architectura Navalis of 1629 (M. Ditta). and ideas (who hardly ever credited his sources; peters 2010, p. 40), but who was less systematic as an analyst (Maarleveld 2013, p. 349). In fact his model does not represent Dutch design at all. Hoving suggests that he borrowed it from Georges Fournier’s ‘Hydrographie’ of 1643, but it is even more likely it builds on Furttenbach (1629), a text Witsen extensively studied (Hoving 2008, p. 29) (ig. 12). Interestingly, as we have seen in the previous section, many students of Witsen’s book have assumed that his method did indeed give the basis for Dutch design, which it doesn’t. Witsen himself is convinced that no mathematical rules or principles are being applied in the shipbuilding industry in the Dutch Republic. In his book this is obscured by the fact that he refers to proportional scantlings and overall templates in terms of fundamental principles (Witsen 1671, p. 53). But it becomes very clear in a letter he writes in 1694 in answer to a request from Czar Peter, in which he clearly states that he does not give any measures for ships and yachts, because this is impossible. In Witsen’s experience every shipbuilder determines what he thinks is the best, using his practice and experience. Peter, quite like many modern shipbuilders or archaeologists, does not seem to believe him. Nor does he want to accept that the shipbuilding methods that Witsen describes do allow for a more-or-less endless lexibility and variety, rather than a set number of types (Raptschinsky 1925, pp. 114-116). Peter is certainly right that it is counterintuitive that shipbuilding and scientiic innovation would not go hand in hand in the literate and economically thriving merchant Republic. Like many modern 94 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology the context of centralized state organizations that looked for economy of scale as well as for symbols of power (adams 2013, p. 87). he mind-set of Czar Peter, of Arnoul, of Seignelay and other French observers sent out by Colbert in the years 16691671, of Rålamb, of Anthony Deane, who like the French agents got a commission to look into the organisation and technicalities of the Dutch leet in the aftermath of the second Anglo-Dutch war (Colenbrander 1919, p. 2), let alone of their superiors, was such that they looked for diferences at the theoretical level, and possibly for superior solutions in managing the theory they were familiar with. hey could not think out of the box or imagine that none of this applied. his has had a profound but blurring inluence on our understanding and on the way we tend to look at the development of shipbuilding in a teleological way. More profoundly still, it has distorted our understanding of the processes determining transfer of technology. ig. 13 – Mathew Baker’s Fragments of Ancient English Shipwrightry opens with an iconic image in which the master shipwright-artistscientist wields a giant-sized pair of compasses over the lines plan of a ship. Its use of perspective is a statement in which Baker draws on the prestigious artistry and mathematics of Dürer to present his identity as a shipwright and designer. Moreover – note the drawer under the table – the image is a direct copy from Albrecht Dürer’s woodcut in ig. 1 (Pepys Library, Magdalene College Cambridge). It is quite clear that Baker was familiar with Dürer’s handbook, but also that he inds inspiration in it. A striking similarity between Dürer’s Underweysung and Baker’s Fragments lies in the spirit of their work. Although Fragments survived as a notebook, the original intent seems to have been that of a presentation volume (Barker 1986, p. 161). Texts and images address an audience, probably irst and foremost Baker’s pupils and apprentices. his didactic dimension is very clear in sentences like: «…in this division observe all the rules before taught…» (Baker 1570, p. 40) or «Now that I have showed how to know the tonnage of a ship …» (Baker 1570, p. 154). What is more, just like Dürer, Baker connected previously unrelated domains. Similarity of concept and the use of mathematics applied to a craft thus bind the two works. he relationship, however, is further demonstrated by the irst and iconic image of the manuscript (ig. 13). It shows a master shipwright and an assistant at work in a drawing oice, where the master wields a giant-sized pair of compasses over the lines plan of a ship. Besides its novel representation of drafting a plan on paper, the image is built on a perspective scheme which was still a novelty in 16th century England. Baker’s use of perspective is a sort of manifesto to his grasp of geometry. But Baker’s image is also a direct copy from the final woodcut in Albrecht Dürer’s Underweysung. It is not the only reference to Dürer’s work. For his extensive use of scaled drawings in relation to ships of diferent carrying capacity, Baker needed a ratio between the linear dimensions and the tonnage calculations, for which he 6. Early Modern England, from Dürer to Mathew Baker Interested observers, such as Czar Peter and Arnoul were disappointed by the fact that it was practice rather than theory, which informed the shipbuilding industry in the Dutch Republic and turned their eyes to England where they encountered the expected theoretical doctrines and treatises (Arnoul 1670, p. 12; Peters 2010, p. 162). More than a century earlier Mathew Baker with his manuscript known as Fragments of Ancient English Shipwrightry had beyond any doubt been the irst to connect mathematics and ship design. Despite the fragmentary nature of this collection, Fragments is an outstanding work. It difers from both Venetian and Iberian texts in that it incorporates innovative uses of paper, not just to reproduce text but also for detailed and inely inished scale drawings (Johnston 1994, p. 120). hrough the use of paper Baker was able to perform calculations related to ship dimensions and volume. But he could also engage in thought experiments exploring design adaptations and solve hypothetical problems (Johnston 1994, p. 110). Moreover, notes and paper allowed him to translate the problems of the shipwright into the language of the mathematician and vice versa. Barring this, Baker’s calculations and contacts with mathematical practitioners would have been incomprehensible and impossible. 95 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld building of Ships, Mathew Baker our countryman» (Borough 1581, sig. 3v). But do the intellectual development and the theoretically founded identity of the high status shipwright have a measurable impact on the inal product, the inished warship or merchantman? Was theory in this case superior to practice? While written sources are plentiful, archaeological evidence for shipbuilding in Early Modern England is rare. Although a number of wrecks are known, only few are well preserved and have been studied and published (Adams 2003; Auer, Maarleveld 2014; Bojakowski, Custer-Bojakowski 2011; Marsden 2009). he picture that emerges from those studies is anything but homogenous as there seem to be considerable diferences in construction (Adams 2013; Auer, Maarleveld 2014). used the cube root of the latter (Barker 1986, p. 173). Baker described the method as simple: «to him that hath the extracting of roots the matter is very easy & to be done with the pen» (Baker 1570, p. 26). Without the arithmetical knowledge of cube roots, however, Baker could accomplish the same result with a graphical construction due to «a certain rule that I found in Albartus Düreri in his book of Geometry» (Baker 1570, ibidem). So Baker not only used Dürer for constructing his preface’s image but directly used Underweysung der Messung for solving the problem of doubling the cube with straight lines and compasses. Johnston (1994, pp. 108-109), in fact, believes that Baker was deliberately assembling his identity as a shipwright and designer, drawing elements from the prestigious artistry and mathematics of Dürer. Whereas Dürer used mathematics in his pursuit of beauty and elevating the igure of the craftsman to that of the artist, Baker’s construction of his identity as a master shipwright was based on exactly the same resource. He adopted a rhetoric of arithmetic and geometry instead of the technical language of the carpenter and rejected the work of his predecessors, because they had been unable to provide a ‘scientiic’ rationale for their technical decisions (Johnston 1994, p. 139). For Baker, arithmetic and geometry were «two supporting sciences» (Baker 1570, p. 33) and «two supporting pillars of every art» (Baker 1570, p. 34). Nevertheless, Baker conceived of arithmetic and geometry in a specific craft-oriented way. Dürer was primarily interested in the graphical construction of geometrical and therefore theoretical igures using his craftsman’s tools. Baker in using mathematics started from a concrete and manual starting point rather than taking a fully abstract approach. he arithmetic demonstrations found in Fragments were done “with the pen” while geometry was operationalized by using the compass and lines to produce plans and elevations, as a sort of geometrical demonstration (Johnston 1994, pp. 141-142). he intellectual novelty of Baker’s approach to his role as shipwright and his legacy Dürer were already recognized by his contemporaries. In the Preface to A Discours of the Variation of the Cumpas of 1581, the English cartographer William Borough (15361599), as true child of his time refers to arithmetic and geometry as the basis for science and arts. In doing so, he recognizes the practitioners who outstandingly used this knowledge in their works: «In Architecture, Vitruvius the Roman: In painting that famous German Albertus Dürerus: And in 7. An archaeological example One example of an English merchant vessel of the late 16th century is the Princes Channel Wreck or Gresham Ship (ig. 14). It was discovered as a result of navigational dredging in the hames Estuary and fully excavated in 2004 (Auer, Maarleveld 2014). he excavated and recovered remains consist of the bow and a run of the portside 14m in length, from just above the turn of the bilge to the level of the lowermost deck. he Gresham Ship was built after September 1574 from timber sourced in eastern England, most probably East Anglia and Essex. It had an approximate overall length at deck level of 24.7 m and a tonnage of 223.5. he armament consisted of 10-12 guns of varying types. his would have made the ship a medium sized trading vessel, which could certainly sail in European waters, but for which journeys further overseas were not out of reach either. A merchant vessel like the Gresham Ship would probably have been a common sight on the Ocean in the 16th century. What information, however, does the construction ofer on practice on English merchant dockyards in the late 16th century? Does the application of theory relect in the archaeological material? And does the archaeological evidence allow for an interpretation of the relationship between theorists and dockyard practitioners? A closer look at the hull construction might help to elaborate these questions. One of the striking features of the wreck was a doubling of framing timbers from the turn of the bilge upwards. his could be identiied as 96 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology ig. 14 – Research model of the Princes Channel Wreck or Gresham Ship, built by Christian Heiberg Rosenberg homsen in the course of the study of the hull (T. Maarleveld). ig. 15 – Reconstructed midships section of the Gresham ship, showing the original and furred cross-section of the hull, as well as the layout of the framing timbers (M. Ditta). on the planks upon these timbers. he occasion of it is to make a ship bear a better sail, for when a ship is too narrow and her bearing either not laid out enough or too low, then they must make her broader and lay her bearing higher. hey commonly fur some two or three strakes under water and as much above, according as the ship requires, more or less. I think in all the world there are not so many ships furred as are in England, and it is pity that there is no order taken either for the punishing of those who build such ships or the preventing of it, for it is an ininite loss to the owners and an utter spoiling and disgrace to all ships that are so handled» (perrin, Manwaring 1922, p. 153). he Gresham Ship was furred by applying the furring timbers from a level below the waterline, six strakes below the lowest deck and continuing past the limit of preservation of the port side (ig. 15). Compared to the common extent of furring, quoted by Mainwaring above – ‘two or three strakes underwater and as much above’ – the hull shape of the vessel was heavily altered at some point in her career. However, besides this further peculiarities were noted in the construction of the vessel. All loor timbers and irst futtocks are joined with interlocked or knuckle joints, which are fastened with ig. 16 – Diagram of the frame layout of the Gresham ship showing the knuckle joints and illing timbers (M. Ditta). ‘furring’, a radical way of rebuilding used as a remedy for tender-sided vessels in his Seaman’s dictionary Sir henry Mainwaring (1587-1653) explains this process: «he other [kind of furring], which is more eminent and more properly furring, is to rip of the irst planks and to put other timbers upon the irst, and so to put 97 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld horizontally driven treenails (ig. 16) although it has to remain unclear whether the primary purpose of these joints was to strengthen the construction or whether they are evidence of pre-moulding, it seems likely that frames were assembled prior to being erected on the keel his would indicate a frame-irst or frame-based construction method mostly known from ships built in the IberoAtlantic or Mediterranean area (Oertling 2001; Grenier et al. 2007, III-62f.). his forms a stark contrast to the contemporary English Sea Venture (wrecked 1609) for which a frame-led construction with an alternating progression of framing and planking is proposed (Adams 2013, 130f.). Interlocked or knuckle joints like those on the Gresham Ship are, however, also known from the early 16th-century Yassi Ada Wreck from the Islamic area (Steffy 1994, p. 134), and from the Genoese Lomellina (Guérout et al. 1989, 35f.). A lighter version of this kind of joint has been observed in the western Mediterranean and attributed to Venice (Beltrame 2014, p. 48). In the majority of Ibero-Atlantic wrecks, the mortises are on the loor timbers and face away from the master frame, which might have mortises on both faces (Grenier et al. 2007, III, 62f.). In the Gresham Ship, there is no change of direction around the master frame, all futtocks are attached aft of the loor timber. he only other wreck to display a break from the Ibero-Atlantic pattern of mortises facing away from the master frame is Lomellina. Here no consistent joint direction could be observed (Guérout et al. 1989, 35f.). While in some wrecks only the master frame and a selected number of frames forward and aft were joined, all ten preserved loors in the Gresham Ship are joined in the same way. An interesting feature are illing timbers or illing frames, which were inserted between joined pairs of loor timbers and futtocks to ill the space and form a continuous band of timber around the turn of the bilge. he regular occurrence of illing frames is otherwise only known from the Mary Rose (Marsden 2009, pp. 47, 93). Altogether, this means that, in terms of its framing system, the closest comparisons with the Gresham Ship are the older and larger Genoese merchant vessel Lomellina and to a degree the likewise substantially older and larger English Mary Rose. he outer hull planking of the Gresham Ship also displays a number of constructional peculiarities. Hull planks within a strake are carefully joined with vertical scarf joints (ig. 17) and the planks are waterproofed with strands of tarred animal hair ig. 17 – Isometric drawing of scarf joint between outer planks in the Gresham ship (J. Auer). laid into a groove at the bottom edge of the planks. Both features warrant further discussion. he joining of strake planks with scarf joints is a well-known characteristic of clinker or lapstrake ship-building. he Gresham Ship, however, is a frame-irst construction with a skeleton of pre-assembled and pre-erected frames, which determine the shape of the hull and are the main element of structural integrity. In such a construction, the joining of strake planks with scarfs is technically unnecessary as butt joints aligned with timbers are adequate. Are the vertical scarf joints between planks an archaic legacy of clinker ship-building? Clinker shells are made watertight using material laid between the overlapping strake planks, while carvel hulls are generally caulked with waterproofing material hammered into plank seams after assembly. he solution seen on the Gresham Ship seems to be a crossover between both techniques. he shipbuilders were certainly aware of caulking, as they used it around the wale and in repairs, but seemingly made a considered choice not to use caulking to seal the outer hull planks. Did they not trust the caulking technique? In his discussion of carvel ship-building in Northern Europe, Adams reaches the conclusion that alternative waterproofing solutions such as caulking seam battens on the inside or outside of outer hull planks might be an expression of the lack of skill of early carvel shipbuilders and their “creative search for new solutions even within a tradition with skills – based rules about how certain tasks should be performed” (Adams 2003, p. 90). his might well be the case in the Gresham Ship as well. 98 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology ist approaches of human culture and its expression in ‘cultures’. Instead, these approaches try to understand individual and group agency in technological processes (Lemonnier 1993) and how practice relates to identity, and identiication with a group or overlapping groups (Insoll 2007). It is a theme that, with a few exceptions, seems to be quite absent in much of the literature that addresses the technicalities of shipbuilding in a historical perspective. Simple explanations have been preferred, and simple explanations are of needs simpliications. Moreover, research has always been biased towards contexts for which consistent bodies of source material do exist. his applies to the history of scientiic ideas and the history of technical implementations alike. And perhaps even more prominently, it applies to the history of the ship. With exceptions again, discussions have been spoon-fed by the available written sources. States, governments, centralized navies or corporate organizations have produced more consistent archives than other sections, such as the ishing industry or tramping merchant leets. But even since archaeological sources have started to be consulted, a clear bias towards ‘ships of state’ has persisted (Cederlund 1995). Incidentally, that bias also feeds into debates on signiicance and protection in a very distorting fashion, but that need not concern us here. In many cases archaeological data has been preferred that easily feeds into the debate, because it refers to known, clearly identiied contexts, while data that doesn’t has been neglected (Harpster 2013). his is further enhanced by the fact that ships as heritage are associated with a historiography that is marked by parochialism, antiquarianism, and celebratory narrative (Sawyer 2013). he result is that the technological history of the ship has fed into the greater narratives on transfer of technology in a way that strengthens the national narratives of naval powers. Partly, this can be explained from the continued need for self-assurance in contemporary nation-states (Cederlund, Hocker 2006; Maarleveld 2007; Wright 2009, pp. 145-175). Partly also, it is self-explanatory in that generations of maritime researchers have focused on the development and spread of shipbuilding theory and shunned away from contexts where theory was not visibly at the forefront of development. If one studies transfer of technology, one follows the paths where such transfer clearly occurs. But it is as revealing to look into actual ship production and competitive altogether, the gresham Ship does not easily it into our current picture of Early Modern shipbuilding. he pre-erected frames were likely pre-designed and the design of the master frame was based on a concept of arcs (Ditta in Auer, Maarleveld 2014, pp. 68-74). his means that the ship was conceived on the basis of mathematical theory. However, this theory, or indeed its application was lawed and led to a tender-sided vessel, which had to be rebuilt using furring, a process which Mainwaring describes as: «…an utter spoiling and disgrace to all ships that are so handled» (Perrin and Manwaring 1922, p. 53). In terms of construction, there is little similarity between the Gresham Ship and other contemporary English wrecks, with the exception maybe of the older Mary Rose. Instead, constructional features found on the Gresham Ship are reminiscent of Mediterranean shipbuilding, and many other features are reminiscent of clinker building techniques. What does this tell us about dockyard practices? Maybe the contrast between design and construction, and the puzzling mix of seemingly archaic construction features is quite typical for a period of transition and changes. Only a little more than 100 years before the construction of the Gresham Ship, large clinker-built seagoing vessels were still a common sight around the shores of Britain, as witnessed by the Newport Ship (Nayling, Jones 2014). And the large clinker-built merchant vessel U34 predates the Gresham Ship by only some 46 years (Overmeer 2008). While it has been suggested that it was built in Poland, other construction areas are presently considered as well (Overmeer pers. comm.). Many of the dockyard craftsmen could still have been used to clinker shipbuilding and when confronted with problems during the construction of a pre-designed carvel vessel found conservative and practical solutions based on their personal experience. Maybe the inconsistency between eforts at theoretical design and practical craftsmanship is an accurate relection of the situation in English merchant dockyards of the late 16th century. 8. Transfer of technology, creative entropy, or a dominance of practice? he examples above serve to illustrate some of the peculiar ways in which technological choices are made. It is a theme that is deeply embedded in archaeological approaches that try to move away from unilinear, deterministic or essential99 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld advantages in terms of manpower, building speed and demand on resources despite the biased focus on the remains of ships whose story is known in advance, the archaeology of more anonymous wrecks now gradually provides that opportunity in the preface of his solid ‘Ships and Science’ larrie Ferreiro argues that the separation of ship theory development and construction practices by nation is artiicial (Ferreiro 2007, xi). All over Europe, after all, there were strong and continuous links between scientists and constructors of all nations, despite the wars that were fought by their sovereigns and governments. his integration is even a typical trait of Renaissance and Early Modern Europe (Cohen 2010; Dominiczak 2012, p. 1168). Intellectually, it is an aspect that is illustrated again and again, and that igures prominently in the discussions above on the art of deining a section, the spread of mathematical ideas and their introduction in discourses on architecture and ship architecture. At a practical level, integration is similarly evident. he workforces in the shipbuilding industry, as well as in naval yards were highly international and qualiied by migrant labour (van Lottum 2007, p. 58; Hocker 2013). Consequently, separation of the development of ship theory by nation may indeed not be useful. Separation of construction practices by nation may not be useful either. But the exchange of construction practices clearly follows other dynamics than the intellectual exchange. What is more, the archaeological material now available clearly shows that a separation between theory and practice is essential if we are ever to understand how transfer of technology really occurs. Archaeology – and the Princes Channel wreck is a good example – illustrates how theory has been applied in practice. But at least as signiicantly it provides us with detail on the choices of individual craftsmen. It highlights the repertoire of techniques they are familiar with. It highlights cultural preferences and problem solving traditions (Maarleveld 1995; Schweitzer forthcoming). It highlights reluctance to instructions that individual carpenters do not believe in. It highlights organizational issues and individual skills (Hocker 2013). It is also illustrative of the decision-making process. Discussions on transfer of technology and creative innovation can proit from this. Archaeology also shows how fashionable theory can be deied – and the Dutch Flush merchant ships are a case in point. Distinguishing between the spread of ideas and the spread of practices highlights the organizational factor. And it highlights the role of the craftsman, who is reduced to an automaton in some systems, but who is the thinking problem-solver in others. Economists have come to look at technological change in terms of ‘macro-inventions’ and ‘micro-inventions’ (Vries 2013, p. 114). Macroinventions are those that provide entirely new ways of thinking in relation to workable or improvable techniques. Micro-inventions are incremental improvements in a ield that is basically known. hinking of Early Modern shipbuilding in terms of transfer of technology, more or less implies that its technology is interpreted as a macro-invention. But it begs the question whether one can interpret the introduction of theory in shipbuilding as a macro-invention at all. As we have seen in the discussions on art and architecture as well as that of Ole Judichaer, mathematical theory itself was subject to incremental development over a long period of time. But even if we wish to interpret the introduction of design on paper as a macroinvention, it was one that only applied to speciic contexts, contexts that were predeined as hierarchical and centralized. Moreover, innovation – and certainly innovation as discussed by economists – should lead to cheaper procedures if not also to better ones. In the hierarchical and centralized contexts in which theorists experimented, economy of resources may well have been subordinate to the status and magniicence of the result (Adams 2013, p. 111), despite economies of scale and cheap labour. he parallel with architecture in the sense of a high status transformation of space is striking in this aspect as well. In the practice dominated shipbuilding industry of the Dutch Republic the available supply of planks and timber is deining, perhaps even normative. It is deliberately sourced along distant supply lines. Higher staf-costs are ofset by relative freedom in conversion, in which each crutch, or crooked timber can be used in an optimal way. Dutch Flush approaches proved extremely cost-efective in terms of timber resources, and the shipyards could produce competitively as a result. Frugal timber use is cited by all foreign observers, despite their dislike for the absence of theory and system. But change – and considerable change – happened more-or-less independent of theory as well. Ranges of new and more specialized vessels were developed in northern Europe all through the period discussed. In the centralized new monarchies where theoreticians were appointed to high status positions of managing shipbuilding or shipbuilding 100 Albrecht Dürer and Early Modern Merchant ships. A relection on the spread of ideas and transfer of technology programmes this process may be slightly more driven by government decisions than it for instance is in the dutch Republic But even if one looks at the written evidence, the successful developments do not seem to be those that are initiated on theoretical grounds he problems that led to the abundance of furred vessels in England are just an example (Auer, Maarleveld 2014). he well-studied history of the intended introduction of galley construction in northern Europe as compared to the development of many other types of rowable vessels is another case in point (Lehmann 1984; Barker 1992; Auer 2008). So is the very successful introduction of the luit (Wegener Sleeswijk 2003), and other developments associated with Jan Pietersz. Liorne (Sigmond 2013, 274 f.), and so is the adaptation of the waterschip (Verwey et al. 2012). he exchange of construction practices provides craftsmen with a wider repertoire of experience, with a greater ability to adapt to new demands and ind creative and innovative combinations (van der Leeuw 2011, pp. 216-217). Whereas one can view resistance to theory as resistance to technological innovation, as inertia and conservatism (Mokyr 2000), doing so in relation to Early Modern shipbuilding is profoundly missing the point. In order to explain the archaeological evidence, it seems to be far more productive to look at the dominance of practice as subject to a continuous and very creative process of using an ever wider variety of techniques and technical solutions to meet an ever wider range of demands and challenges in an ever more varied set of organizational settings. Continuity is not necessarily entropy, and if entropy at all, it is a very creative entropy. 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Abstract In this essay the authors present a relection on the processes that surround the acceptance of new ideas and what is generally called ‘transfer of technology’. hey do so by linking the emerging archaeological understanding of continuity and change in shipbuilding practices in diferent parts of Europe at the beginning of Modern History, with long established and newly rewritten histories of intellectual, scientiic and technological development. Albrecht Dürer is presented as a crucial actor in the developing Renaissance worldview in which beauty – and technological proiciency – is founded in a divine order that can be described in terms of mathematics. It is a worldview that inspired theory and experimentation in architecture and ship architecture alike, but not necessarily in a practicable or reliable way. he beautiful ellipse is pursued in English, French and Danish shipbuilding, notably the building of grand ships for the king’s navy, but harmony and innovation are attained in quite diferent ways in the Dutch Republic. Archaeological data clearly demonstrate that the 103 Massimiliano Ditta, Jens Auer, Thijs Maarleveld processes at work in that seething shipbuilding environment are almost completely immune to the (ship-) architectural theorizing that bestows other parts of europe. he consequences of this for our interpretation of written sources – notably Witsen – are discussed, before some focus is put on Mathew Baker’s England and the archaeological example of the Princes Channel wreck. he comparative approach of the essay leads to a critical assessment of unilinear explanations, and thus derides their usefulness in present day development thinking. Whereas the Early Modern period in Europe was typiied by intellectual integration as well as an integration of labour markets that would seemingly foster uniied development, the archaeological evidence clearly demonstrates that theory and practice are two diferent worlds that need to be approached separately, if fundamental – and continuous – misunderstanding is to be avoided. Keywords: Renaissance, Mathematics, Shipbuilding, Architecture, History of Science, Transfer of Technology. Riassunto Albrecht Dürer e le navi mercantili della prima età moderna. Una riflessione sulla diffusione di idee e sul trasferimento di tecnologia. In questo saggio gli autori presentano una rilessione sui processi che circondano l’accettazione delle nuove idee e quello che è genericamente chiamato “trasferimento tecnologico”. Essi lo fanno collegando l’emergente conoscenza archeologica della continuità e del cambiamento nelle pratiche di costruzione navale in diverse parti dell’Europa all’inizio della storia moderna, con la consolidata e nuovamente riscritta storia dello sviluppo scientiico e tecnologico. Albrecht Dürer è presentato come un attore cruciale nella visione rinascimentale del mondo in trasformazione in cui la bellezza – e la conoscenza tecnologica – è fondata su un ordine divino che può essere descritto in termini matematici. È una visione del mondo che ispirò teoria e sperimentazione sia in architettura che in architettura navale, ma non necessariamente in maniera pratica o aidabile. Nella costruzione navale inglese, francese e danese, specialmente nella costruzione di grandi navi per la lotta del re, è ricercata e adoperata la meravigliosa ellisse, ma armonia e innovazione sono raggiunte in maniere abbastanza diferenti nella repubblica olandese. I dati archeologici dimostrano chiaramente che i processi in atto in quel ribollente ambiente della costruzione navale sono quasi completamente immuni alle teorizzazioni d’architettura (navale) che invece coinvolgono altre parti d’Europa. Vengono quindi discusse le conseguenze di tale aspetto in relazione all’interpretazione delle fonti scritte – specialmente di Witsen – prima di un approfondimento sull’Inghilterra di Mathew Baker e dell’esempio archeologico del relitto Princess Channel. L’approccio comparativo del saggio porta verso un giudizio critico di spiegazioni unilineari, e così deride la loro utilità nel pensiero odierno emergente. Mentre la prima età moderna in Europa era caratterizzato da integrazione intellettuale così come da un’integrazione del mercato del lavoro che avrebbe in apparenza favorito uno sviluppo uniicato, l’evidenza archeologica dimostra chiaramente che teoria e pratica sono due mondi diversi che devono essere afrontati separatamente, se si vuole evitare un’incomprensione di base – e continua –. Parole chiave: Rinascimento, matematica, costruzione navale, architettura, storia della scienza, trasferimento di tecnologia. 104 archeologia dei relitti postmedievali a cura di carlo Beltrame A RCHEOLOGI A POSTMEDIEVA LE Il volume, che raccoglie undici contributi di archeologi marittimi di molti paesi, ha l’obiettivo di accendere i rilettori sulle enormi potenzialità dei relitti di età storica, mettendo a confronto, da un lato, approcci diversi (di ambito mediterraneo ma anche statunitense, australiano e nord europeo), dall’altro, contesti archeologici con caratteristiche altrettanto diverse per l’ambiente di giacitura e per l’impiego civile o militare dell’imbarcazione. Gli studi, diacronici ma incentrati sul Cinquecento e sull’Ottocento, coprono le varie sfaccettature dell’indagine storica dei relitti di età postmedievale quali la costruzione navale, il commercio e la vita di bordo, ma anche aspetti di tipo squisitamente metodologico quali l’archeologia sperimentale navale. Si tratta di una novità assoluta per l’editoria scientiica italiana in cui questo particolare, ma molto promettente, ambito della ricerca archeologica non aveva ancora trovato adeguato spazio. € 36,00 ISSN 1592-5935 ISBN 978-88-7814-618-1