SCIENCE AND CHURCH IN THE MIDDLE

AGES
Introduction
Natural philosophy, or natural science as it was
sometimes called, was one of the key subjects taught
at medieval universities and also so mething that
exercised the minds of such esteemed doctors of
theology as Thomas Aquinas, Albert the Great and
Nicole Oresme who all wrote commentaries on
Aristotle that excluded religious ideas. This runs
contrary to the popular view of the Middle Ages being
something of a dark age for science, dominated by the rule of faith
rather than the light of reason. More sophisticated critics have
followed the lead of early humanists like Erasmus in mocking the
concepts, relations, instants, formalities, quididities and ecceites of
scholastic logic and rationalism. Thus the period has been damned for
putting both too much and too little emphasis on reason. The Church
has received much of the blame for the alleged deficiencies in medieval
intellectual life, most influentially by the nineteenth century writers
John Draper and Andrew Dickson White. The arguments against their
simplistic account of a great conflict between science and religion are
now well rehearsed and were recently summed up:

Draper takes such liberty with history, perpetuating

legends as fact that he is rightly avoided today in serious
historical study. The same is nearly as true of White,
though his prominent apparatus of prolific footnotes may
create a misleading impression of meticulous scholarship 

In the mid-twentieth century, Lynn Thorndike was so keen to

correct the impression given by Draper and White that he sometimes
descends into hyperbole, accusing his predecessors of holding ‘the old
view, or rather assumption, that every medieval scientist was
persecuted by the church. But today the historical relationship
between science and religion is essentially an open question. The
various answers depend on the factors found in particular periods and
cultures and, as far as the Middle Ages are concerned, to what extent
the Church limited or encouraged academic scientific thought and
what, if any, the effects have been. If we analyse the situation closely,
we might find that creative tension would be a more accurate picture
of the relationship between science and religion, not only in this
period, but also in many others.

During the Middle Ages, the education infrastructure of Europe

was overseen, if not managed, by the Church. That role, which meant
acting as both the guarantor of academic freedom and arbitrator of its
boundaries, tended to be carried out with a light touch and by
ensuring the right people were placed in the key positions. Combined
with their status as self-governing corporations of scholars, this gave
the universities independence from local influence and the freedom to
speculate in a wide range of fields which also meant their declarations
were highly valued.

The universities
The previously unknown notion of the university as a self-
governing academic institution did not appear until the Middle Ages
and it can be argued that it was one of the most important advances
in the history of ideas. Previous models of education and research
establishments had existed, such as the Museum of Alexandria
answerable to the king, the schools of Athens answerable to a single
scholar and the madrasas of Islam wh ose activities were rigidly
limited by religious law and the wishes of their founders [NOTE], but
none of these cases are equivalent to the new concept of the European
university.

Once cathedral schools moved beyond just training the clergy,

they found themselves needing to hold on to respected teachers in
order to attract fee-paying students. The result of this was a shift in
power from the cathedral chapter to the scholars themselves. By the
late eleventh century they were using new developments in civil and
canon law to form a universitas or corporation (the actual term for an
academic university was studium generale) in a similar manner to the
craft guilds also appearing at this time .The vital concept was that a
corporation had a distinct legal personality separate from its members
that allowed them to show a single face to the outside world while
independently being able to govern the workings of the corporation
from within.

A city or state was willing to make considerable allowances for a

whole group of scholars so the university was granted legal
immunities and privileges, which could later be recognised
internationally by the Pope who, for example, bestowed his
benediction on Oxford in 1254 Furthermore, the masters needed
students and they could form a universitas of their own. Thus
Bologna, usually recognised as the first university, was a corporation
of students (universitas scholarium), while Oxford and Paris were
corporations of masters (universitas magistrorum). No foundation
documents exist for these earliest institutions but later in the Middle
Ages universities were specifically set up by localities or rulers with
charters that give a good idea of what was considered the usual form.
Of the earliest universities, Bologna began as a secular law school for
the study of the newly rediscovered Corpus Juris Civilis of
Justinian while Oxford and Paris both grew out of a loose association
of clerical private teachers. Later disputes led to an exodus from
Bologna of students and masters to Padua among other places, while
Cambridge was founded after a similar migration from Oxford.

By the fourteenth century, the university had become the

centrepiece of European intellectual life with new foundations
appearing as kings and bishops attempted to enhance their own
prestige. They were even willing to try and lure away scholars in
established universities
with the promise of
safety and privileges
such as when Henry III
tried to tempt the
masters of Paris over to
England. As antiquity
leant further authority,
the earliest universities
claimed mythical
foundations. Alfred the
Great was said to have
endowed Oxford,
Charlemagne to have
founded Paris and, most ancient of all, the Roman Emperor
Theodosius II to have given a charter to Bologna. Universities founded
later needed to earn their position by the quality of their scholars and
recognition by a pope or emperor. Not all of them, such as the short
lived Piacenza succeeded. As for the students themselves, they were
already moaning regularly about tuition fees and had given rise to the
popular perception, reproduced by Chaucer in The Miller’s
Tale and The Reeve’s Tale, of being pranksters or, according to
Alvarus Pelagius ], good-for-nothing layabouts or violent thugs. The
extremely long time away from home it could take to gain a degree, the
need for funds or benefices to pay the fees and, probably, sheer
boredom, meant the drop out rate was very high, with only a low
proportion of students even completing a degree, let alone a doctorate
in law, theology or medicine. On the other hand, the number who
stayed for a year or two and left with a modicum of higher education
to aid in finding a good career was quite great. It is estimated that the
number of people gaining some sort of university experience in
Western Europe before the Reformation is as high as 750,000 and
they thus formed a substantial literate population 

Another important factor in the development of the universities

was their adoption by the mendicant orders. Both the Franciscans
and Dominicans saw their mission as preaching and for this they
required well-educated brothers who could engage difficult subjects
with ease. An intellectual rivalry grew up between the two orders,
which led to competition between them to get their brothers into the
choicest university appointments. The interest that these rich and
powerful orders had in the success of the universities further
enhanced all parties’ prestige and provided a useful way for individual
scholars to continue in their chosen careers. For, although an
individual mendicant could have no money himself, he was looked
after as a valued member of his order who furthermore paid the
substantial tuition fees. Hence, for the student struggling through the
many years of study required to finally gain the doctorate in theology,
joining the friars might be a very good idea.

The power of the mendicants did cause some difficulties, as their

priorities did not always coincide with those of the universities. The
orders wanted trained preachers with theology degrees and were not
too concerned that they should receive the Master of Arts (the ‘MA’)
degree first as regulations required. The universities, on the other
hand, not least because they needed the students, tried to insist that
an MA was an essential prerequisite for studying in the theology
faculty. Hence the relationship between the mendicants and the
universities was not easy and led at times to serious strife.

The state of scientific knowledge

By the beginning of the thirteenth century much of the surviving
work of the ancient Greeks had been recovered in the Latin West, as
well as the commentaries and advances made by the Arabs who were
much more than simple transmitters. The supremacy of Aristotle as
‘the Philosopher’, firmly established in Western Europe by 1300, did
not come without some resistance, especially to the way his ideas had
been adapted by his Arab Commentator, Averröes. Innocent III
condemned Aristotle’s natural philosophy in 1210 and, when this had
little effect, a committee was set up at Paris in 1231 to expunge the
Aristotelian corpus of heretical ideas so that they would be suitable for
teaching Whether this plan came to fruition either is not clear as
certainly, by 1255, his works were back on the syllabus The crisis
came when, following the teaching of Siger of Brabant at Paris around
1270, many theses derived from Aristotle and Averröes were declared
heretical both at Paris and at Oxford following a papal sponsored
investigation by Bishop Stephen Tempier . The Averroists had
allegedly tried to insist on the doctrine of the double truth whereby
philosophy and theology were kept in separate boxes but this was
roundly condemned The 219 theses condemned by Tempier at Paris in
1277 have become a fetish in the study of scholastic natural
philosophy, either being held up both as an example of ecclesiastical
censorship or, after Pierre Duhem, as science breaking free from the
dead hand of Aristotle 

The effects of the condemnation of 1277

took several decades to work themselves out as
it was not only the Averroists who were included
in its prohibitions but also some of their
opponents. It had been realised that, while
Aristotle held the solution to many problems, he
also needed to be Christianised and this work
was perfected by Thomas Aquinas, who, in rejecting extreme
Averroism, rehabilitated Aristotle’s ideas so as to make them safe for
Christian consumption. Thomas Aquinas was already dead when the
condemnations of 1277 were promulgated, and not only were several
of his opinions included, but also one of his pupils, the highly
esteemed Augustian canon Giles of Rome, found fifty one articles from
his commentary on book one of Peter
Lombard’s Sentences condemned by Tempier. Giles, who had attacked
the radical doctrines of the Averroists and felt he was being strictly
orthodox, defended himself and refused to recant [NOTE]. The case
seems to have been suspended after Giles left Paris of his own accord
but in 1285 Pope Honorius IV asked the university to reconsider, even
though there is no record of Giles actually making an appeal, and he
was rehabilitated. This episode does not appear to have had a negative
impact on Giles’ future career which ended with him installed as
Archbishop of Bourges. Aquinas himself was canonised by John XXII
in 1323 which resulted in his work being declared free of heresy and
the 1277 condemnations were interpreted accordingly. It appeared
that the synthesis between moderate Aristotelianism and Christianity
was victorious although this did not prevent numerous other
philosophical ideas from being supported in the years that followed
and Aquinas himself did not enjoy the reputation as a ‘Universal
Doctor’ of the Church until the Counter Reformation when Pius V
bestowed the title on him.

That Aristotle is fallible was realised early. Ptolemy found he

needed to enhance his cosmology of pure circles with epicycles and
other additions even while keeping to a geocentric system In sixth
century Alexandria, John Philoponus noted that heavy objects do not
fall faster than light ones as the Philosopher claimed that they must
do When Aristotle was rediscovered in the West, it was soon
established that when there were clear conflicts between his
philosophy and the Christian faith, the latter should always prevail.
This was not much of a handicap, as on the subject of physical
science, faith did not really have a lot to say. The bible could be read
non-literally where necessary, as Augustine himself allowed, so
William of Conches could even call the creation account in Genesis
figurative Nearly everyone agreed that the earth was a sphere even
though the Bible implied a flat earth. But where Aristotle and faith
were in clear conflict, such as his claim that the world was uncreated
and eternal, it weakened his authority and allowed his ideas to be
challenged. This opened the door to the idea of a developing body of
knowledge, which is often assumed to have been absent from the
medieval outlook [. While there was certainly no sense of the Baconian
project of human improvement, the fact that ideas were being
discussed, criticised and rejected does suggest a desire for new
knowledge rather than just commenting on an existing corpus that
was supposed to contain all the answers, if only they could be
extracted. In the main, however, it was the schoolmen’s propensity to
put the authorities before observation, parodied by Galileo and vividly
demonstrated by the inability of anatomists before Nicolaus Vesalius
to note the deficiencies in Galen’s schema, that held sway.

Theoretical work to improve explanations gave rise to impetus

theory from the likes of John Buridan, Nicole Oresme’s considerations
about possible rotation of the earth, and eventually Copernicus who
moved the sun to the centre of the universe. But none of these men,
least of all Copernicus, ever did any experiments or observations that
could verify their hypotheses. Furthermore, the connections between
these ideas are far from clear and we must beware of simply pushing
back a few centuries the positivist or ‘great men’ version of the history
of science. Science during the Middle Ages was essentially a
theoretical subject and a branch of philosophy, hence the usual term
of natural philosophy. Although Roger Bacon, Albert the Great and
Nicole Oresme praise the concept of experience, controlled
observation, experimentation and technological work were not matters
the academic natural philosopher involved himself in. They did not
like to get their hands dirty and instead used thought experiments to
analyse situations while apparently never seeking to repeat the
process in the real world Indeed, the exact relationship between
natural philosophy and physical reality remains puzzling. Following
the ancient Greeks, the schoolmen practiced instrumentalism in order
to save the appearances of phenomena meaning that they wanted to
construct conceptual explanations without being too concerned over
whether or not reality corresponded closely to them. With the
empirical scepticism of William of Ockham of the 14th century, all
natural science was reduced to hypotheses which reason alone could
not distinguish. This lends an extremely rarefied character to much of
scholastic natural philosophy. The issue became most acute in the
Renaissance during the debate as to whether Copernicus’s heliocentric
model was a useful fiction or, as Copernicus implied in a step said to
be a vital break from medieval thought the ways things really are. The
experimental method has been put down to the alchemical and
hermetic traditions rather than the natural philosophy of the
universities Other advances like the mean speed theory of the Merton
calculators (which describes motion under uniform acceleration and
was applied to all sorts of situations we might consider inappropriate)
do not appear to have been the object of experimentation either. The
mean speed theory described the motion of a free falling body but no
one seems to have realised this.

Teaching science in the university

Typically new students arrived at university at the age of fifteen
and were matriculated into the university Arts Faculty. Here, they
would be taught the subjects viewed as essential to tackle everything
else: logic and natural philosophy based on the works of Aristotle.
After three or four years of study the student had to settle a
disputation and, if successful, became a Bachelor of the Arts. Then,
after another year or two, he took part in a final disputation with his
Master and was incepted as a Master of the Arts. This meant the
student could now do two things to continue his academic career,
either become a teacher (a Regent Master) in the Arts Faculty at any
university as allowed by the ius ubique docendi (the right to teach
anywhere) or start to study for a doctorate at one of the higher
faculties of Medicine, Civil and Canon Law or Theology. Whereas most
universities had an Arts Faculty, few could boast all of the higher
subjects, which tended to be more specialised. For instance, Bologna
and Padua were renowned for their law schools, Paris for its
theologians and Salerno for medicine. Oxford, at least, seemed to have
possessed faculties in all subjects before 1268. After many more years
of study in the higher faculty, the student could finally be admitted to
the degree of Doctor that meant they could join the faculty and start
practising. Prior to achieving the relevant professional degree, many
jurisdictions forbade an individual to practice, write or research on the
topic. For example there was a prohibition against anyone other than
a Doctor of Theology making pronouncements on that subject and
many unsuccessful attempts to ensure medical work was carried out
only by qualified physicians.

University students studied natural philosophy by listening to a

lecturer read them texts and then explain them. Again, practical work
was unheard of (at least outside the medical faculty) although the
actual methods of teaching remain too obscure to make a sound
judgement as to the extent that students were encouraged to think
critically about what they were taught. Aristotle himself was wisely
considered just too difficult for beginner students and so a variety of
textbooks such as John Sacrobosco’s De sphera and John
Peckam’s Perspectiva communis were produced for pedagogical
purposes. The extent to which the syllabus developed during the later
Middle Ages can be judged by the documents from Oxford and similar
specifications at Paris [NOTE]. The earliest version dates from 1268
and includes the old logic (that had been translated into Latin by
Boethius in the sixth century) and the new logic (which was not
available until the twelfth century) as well as grammar from Priscian
and Donatus. By 1409, Porphyry’s Isagoge (a commentary on
Aristotle’s categories) has been added as well as De sphera. The late
Renaissance syllabus of 1564 sees the inclusion of the Latin classics
as well, especially Virgil and Cicero, probably under the influence of
the humanists. We should not get the impression from this list that
the program was only updated every 150 years but the fact that the
same books were studied for hundreds of years does not suggest a
rapidly changing body of knowledge.

University discipline
 The greatest privilege of being a student or teacher at university
was that of being treated as a clergyman under law, which meant they
had a high level of immunity to secular justice and were instead tried
by the much gentler ecclesiastical courts. Furthermore, an advantage
of being self-governing corporations was that a university was
responsible for its own disciplinary arrangements and rarely had to
deal with outside authorities. Hence, university discipline was largely
in-house and followed the forms of canon law as set out by Gratian in
his Decretum.

Students were subject to discipline under university statutes and,

needless to say, most cases heard at this level involved drunkenness,
fornication and revelry of the sort that students have been indulging
in since they were first gathered together away from home. Less
common today is the problem of students carrying weapons. Under
certain circumstances, one could appeal to the court of the local
bishop who had responsibility for the university and then ultimately to
the curia.

Another form of discipline was exerted by examinations and it

appears that in the theology faculty at least, a test of orthodoxy was
one of those to which the candidates work was subjected.
Examinations for the MA involved an oral disputation on set texts in
which required the candidate to defend a given position while also
enunciating opposing views. But for a Doctorate of Theology there is
evidence that written work had to be produced which could then be
carefully scrutinised by the examiners for orthodoxy as well as signs of
scholarly aptitude If heretical opinions were found in the candidates
work, it did not make them a heretic themselves but they did need to
make corrections. This did not have to lead to any permanent
disadvantage and as I have mentioned, among many other
examples Giles of Rome ended his career as an Archbishop despite
been accused of heretical opinions in his student days So, not only
were most disciplinary matters dealt with by the university, also the
consequences rarely made themselves felt outside it.

Once a list of errors had actually been extracted from the work of
a scholar, often his commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard,
he had the chance to reply and there were a number of defences open
to him. In the case of the nominalist theologian, Jean de Mirecourt, we
possess the original list of 63 theses extracted by the theological
committee at Paris from his Sentences commentary, Jean’s reply and
the final amended list of 41 theses that he agreed to recant Jean’s
rebuttals were of a similar type to those used by Giles of Rome and
other defendants. Jean gave either a flat out denial, with no further
explanation, that he had said what he was accused of saying (this
defence was successful in all five cases he used it), an explanation of
what he really meant, an insistence that the alleged error was not in
fact heretical at all or an appeal to the authority of the Church
fathers. He was successful in having half the articles struck out but it
was also open to the prosecution to add more errors at this stage. So,
whereas Jean was able to deflect about thirty accusations, he found
himself faced with an additional fifteen of them. The end result was an
agreed list that was promulgated with Jeans retraction attached as
well as instructions from the Chancellor of the university forbidding
the opinions to be held, asserted or defended publicly or privately.

By the end of the Middle Ages, the universities found that they
had largely preserved their autonomy and their reputations were such
that others wanted to make use of their expertise. This was especially
so for the Theology Faculty of the
University of Paris which came to be
regarded almost as the very font of
orthodoxy and was frequently consulted
about related matters. The case of Simon
de Phares from the end of the fifteenth
century is illustrative of this. Simon was
the proprietor of an up market astrology
practice in Lyons that was so successful
that even the King himself came to call. This led to friction with the
local clergy, who were usually in a state of armed truce with
astrologers, so that Simon was hauled before the court of the
Archbishop. Here, he was probably found to have been using magic,
forbidden to practice and had his library confiscated. Simon appealed
to the Parlement in Paris rather than to the Pope in order to get his
books back and they turned the case over to the Theology Faculty as
they probably had no idea what any of the books were about, let alone
if they should be condemned. The theologians ruminated for some
time before declaring a few of Simon’s books were suspect even if the
rest were permissible. Simon had his appeal rejected with costs but
does not appear to have got into any more serious trouble.

External Discipline of Academics

It was the potentially dangerous subject of theology that
concerned the Church far more than natural philosophy and most
examples of discipline relate to the former. These systems were
essentially the internal disciplinary procedures of the universities and,
as we have seen, the usual sanction was little more than having to
recant the error and amend ones work to correct it. Matters would
only usually leave the auspices of the university if there was an appeal
or if the matter became notorious and widely known as, for example,
in the case of the Amalricians of Paris where the teaching of a
university theologian threatened to produce a heretical sect. As
mentioned above, many academics were also members of the
mendicant orders so they were also under the governance of their
order and could face disciplinary proceedings from this direction. The
most famous case of this is Roger Bacon who appears to have been
imprisoned by his superiors in the Franciscans for not having his
work vetted by them before.

The most infamous agents of medieval church discipline, the

inquisitors, do not appear to have had a major role in dealing with
academics but could become involved in certain cases. Word that
someone had been teaching heretical opinions could reach the ear of
the local inquisitor who would investigate and, on finding the
allegations to be true, get the teacher to admit and recant his error
before handing down his penance. As the inquisitor was not part of
the university it is likely that the case would already have acquired a
degree of notoriety, perhaps due to public disputations or lectures,
before he heard of it and having done so he would be obliged to act.

The well known case of Cecco D’Ascoli illustrates how this might
occur but it also shows many of the difficulties in working out exactly
what happened. The facts are set out in the condemnation of Cecco
who was burnt at the stake in Florence on 15th December 1327.
Three years previously, he had been found guilty of “utterances
against the Catholic faith”, by the inquisitor Lambertus of Cingulo in
Bologna where Cecco was a professor, with the result that he was
fined, had his books confiscated and was banned from teaching or
practising astrology. Unfortunately, the condemnation does not tell us
what the offending utterances were, although later authorities, such
as the fifteenth century inquisitor, Franciscus Florentinus, mention
that he had taught and written that Jesus lived and suffered the way
he did because he was born under a special star which had also led
the magi from the East [NOTE]. Contrary to what Franciscus insists,
Cecco does not mention any such thing in his extant books (even
those that were burnt with him) so his utterances were in all
likelihood verbal and made in lectures. As Cecco was not more
severely punished we can also assume he confessed to and repented of
his errors. However, his was clearly a serious heresy as he did not get
away with a simple recantation such as required of Blasius of Parma
in 1396 when he was also convicted of “utterances against the
Catholic faith. Cecco left Bologna and made his way to Florence where
he promptly flouted the inquisitor’s strictures and became court
astrologer to Jacob of Brescia. This wilful disobedience immediately
marked him out as a recalcitrant heretic and when he found himself
before the Florentine inquisitor, Accursius, it is no surprise that the
he was handed over to the secular arm. As burning was the expected
fate of a re-offender the judicial machinery seems to be working as
expected.

The boundaries set by the church pertinent to natural philosophy

and science appear to have been quite well defined and mainly
involved avoiding matters that might have theological significance. In
astrology, it was forbidden to claim a completely deterministic model
where the influence of the stars overrode free moral choice or, like
Cecco was supposed to have done, to start casting horoscopes for
Jesus. Alchemists had to avoid fraud and not become too engrossed in
some of the allegedly diabolical additions to their subject while
conforming to John XXII’s bull, Spondent quas non exhibent. In
physics, it was fine to put most things down to secondary natural
causes but not to claim that miracles were impossible. Neither the
eternity of the world nor the existence of other worlds could be
espoused in cosmology and metaphysics as an actual fact. Finally, it
was never acceptable to claim that the natural world had to be the
way it is and that God could not have created it differently if he wished
to, or could not upset the natural order if he so pleased 

There were certainly controversialists who would have liked the

boundaries to have been drawn much tighter, but the points
mentioned above seem to have been roughly the position for much of
the period concerned. This does not mean that all cases when the
boundary was crossed resulted in prosecution or even a warning, but
that one could expect to stay out of trouble by keeping within them.
Furthermore, a wide variety of formulae existed that allowed
ostensibly forbidden topics to be discussed at length. For instance,
while it was prohibited to claim different universes actually existed,
one could say God could create such universes if he wished and then
discuss them at length. Likewise, the Question, a common format in
academic writing at the time and the written equivalent of the
Disputation, required one to give the arguments for both sides before
settling on an answer that did not contradict the faith In the
meantime one could air as many heretical opinions as desired and
give all the arguments in favour of them. Finally, a work could be
written in such dense and obscure language that a censor would
never have the faintest idea what was actually being claimed.
Arguments over what the alleged heretical work really meant were
common, with the defendant claiming he had just been
misunderstood 

The legacy of medieval science

Traditional positivist histories of science have tended to either
ignore or denigrate the achievements of medieval natural philosophers
and, to be fair, there certainly seems to be a radical difference between
the scholastics and the proponents of the new philosophy of the
seventeenth century. Historians have yet to agree on how this change
came about but there is an increasing awareness that its roots can be
found in the Middle Ages. The analogy of the universe as a machine,
typical of the mechanistic philosophy of Descartes, appears in Western
Europe as early as Hugh of St Victor in the eleventh century. As we
saw above, Pierre Duhem saw in the condemnations of 1277 the
rejection of the idea that the universe had to be the way Aristotle
thought it had to, and the birth of the realisation that the workings of
the universe had to be empirically determined. The neo-Platonism of
Copernicus and Kepler had developed in Italy through the late Middle
Ages while the insistence on an intelligible and rational universe is
found throughout scholastic natural philosophy.

As is the often the case, the debate has been characterised as

polarised between two positions - the continuity of science through the
Middle Ages and into the early modern period, and the scientific
revolution marking a decisive break from the earlier traditions. AC
Crombie is a leading member of the continuity school, tracing the
experimental method back to Robert Grosseteste and Roger Bacon.
Edward Grant sees modern science built on the solid medieval
foundations of the separation of science from religion, rationality and
university education. The great temptation for the proponents of
continuity, which not all of them successfully resist, is to read modern
scientific ideas into the work of earlier ages. For instance, Grant
perhaps sees too much in Gregory of Rimini’s work on infinity and
tries to make it a precursor of the nineteenth-century Georg Cantor’s
theories of transfinite numbers The comments of Roger Bacon on
experiment have also tended to be overemphasised, especially as there
is little evidence he ever did anything much in that direction himself.
One does not want to take these criticisms too far, however, as the
academic framework of the universities certainly produced most of the
individuals who worked on science in the early modern period even
with the essentially medieval syllabus 

Despite the huge volume of modern scholarship on the scientific

revolution, there is no agreed answer to the question of why it
happened in Western Europe in the seventeenth century and not
elsewhere or earlier. Some theories include: sociologist Robert
Merton’s suggestion of Puritanism provided the conditions for science,
Thomas Kuhn’s system of normal science and revolution, Frances
Yates claiming credit for hermetic magic, Duhem and Stanley Jaki for
Catholic theology and Lynn White’s contention that the driving force
was provided by technological change. No single theory has proved
entirely satisfactory or convincing, as they tend to look either at
internal or external causes rather than a combination. For the
external environment, the medieval contribution might have come
from the institution of the university, the reception of Greek and
Arabic thought and the worldview of a rational creator God. Internal to
medieval science, there is the work of developing, criticising and
discarding hypotheses begun by scholastic natural philosophers and
still ongoing.
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Analysis:
Natural philosophy, as taught in the Arts Faculties of the
universities, was seen as an essential area of study in its own right
and for moving onto higher subjects. It was an independent field,
separated from theology, which enjoyed a good deal of intellectual
freedom as long as it was restricted to the natural world. Although
there would be action if natural philosophers stepped outside these
limits, the Church disciplinary procedures were mainly aimed at
theologians who were involved in a much more dangerous area. In
general, there was religious support for natural science by the late
middle Ages and a recognition that it was an important element of
learning. The extent to which medieval science led directly to the new
philosophy of the scientific revolution remains a subject for debate,
but it certainly had a significant influence.