However, Dee could not be counted a committed Protestant either. Although he was very much a part of the Protestantism that defined Elizabeth’s reign (for example, when consulted by the government on the issue of Calendar reform, he openly criticised the Pope and ‘Romanists’), he became partial to Catholic rites in later life, and was comfortable among Catholic activists, such as Sir George Peckham, whom he advised about setting up a Catholic colony in the New World.
Such mixed messages left many of those that met him wondering where his loyalties lay. One correspondent of Francis Walsingham’s, who encountered Dee in Germany, was so befuddled by Dee’s theology, he concluded that the philosopher must have ‘disliked of all religions’.13
In fact Dee’s diaries are filled with heartfelt expressions of piety, including accounts of lengthy sessions of anguished prayer and supplication conducted in his own private chapel. But he refused to accept that either Protestants or Catholics, the Bible or the Pope had the monopoly. He believed that God’s truth was also to be found in nature and in learning. It was to the movements of the stars and to ancient texts that humanity must look to find the common ground upon which the Christian Church had originally been built. Only on Peter’s Rock, the long lost foundation of faith, could the ‘first beginning of unity’ proclaimed by St Cyprian – and reiterated by Dee during Philpot’s interrogation – be restored.
This was his theology, a religion founded on ancient principles and confirmed by science, and his behaviour following his arrest was, as subsequent events were to show, aimed at its fulfilment.
Following his brush with Bartlet Green and John Philpot, Dee appeared very much at home in the new Catholic order. On 15 January 1556, only a few days before Green’s execution, he published his ‘Supplication to Queen Mary….for the recovery and preservation of ancient writers and monuments’. The ‘monuments’ to which he referred were not the statues smashed by Protestant radicals in churches and monasteries, but the far more precious ancient and medieval manuscripts currently shelved in vestries and scriptoria. The tempest of the Reformation had already scattered many of these irreplaceable pages. ‘There was no quicker merchandise than library books,’ John Bale later observed of the period, noting that bundles of them were routinely to be found for sale in ‘grocers, soapsellers, tailors, and other occupiers’ shops, some in ships ready to be carried overseas into Flanders’.1 If action was not taken quickly, England’s fragile intellectual infrastructure would be gone forever.
Dee’s plan was to send agents across the length and breadth of the country to collect or copy these works for a new ‘Library Royal’. This great national archive would not only preserve manuscripts and books from ‘rot and worms’, but provide a resource to which ‘learned men’ could turn in times of religious strife and uncertainty to settle ‘such doubts and points of learning, as much cumber and vex their heads’. For there they would find, Dee argued, that all the most troubling issues of the day – for example the true meaning of St Cyprian’s words concerning the unity of the church, the subject of Dee’s heated argument with Philpot – ‘are most pithily in such old monuments debated and discussed’.2 Thus would ‘learning wonderfully be advanced’.
Although his scheme did not receive official backing, it provided Dee with a pretext for pursuing his own private version. A period of frenetic bibliographic activity followed. Dee criss-crossed the country, searching for material, keeping notes as he went:
Remember two in Wales who have excellent monuments. Mr Edward ap Roger in Raubon 7 miles from Oswestree Northward and…Edward Price at Mivod X [i.e. ten] miles from Oswestree, somewhat westwards. Archdecon Crowly and Robert Crowly sometime printer had Tully’s translation of Cyropaedia…3
Dee’s desire to preserve and own these texts pushed him to extreme measures. He borrowed four scientific manuscripts from Peterhouse College in Cambridge, promising to return them but apparently failing to do so. He acquired six manuscripts from the collection of John Leland within days of its supposed custodian, Sir John Cheke, being kidnapped in his exile in the Low Countries, brought home and forced to renounce his Protestantism.4
His quest was most obsessive when looking for scientific manuscripts and books. Dee also started work on one of his own, the Propaedeumata Aphoristica (Preliminary Aphoristic Teachings), a series of maxims explaining astrological powers ‘by rational processes’.5 For Dee wanted to discover the ‘true virtues of nature’, to find out how celestial events – the movement of the Sun, Moon and planets against the stars – influenced ‘sublunar’ (i.e. atmospheric and terrestrial) ones.
In early sixteenth-century England, astrology was in decline. This was not because of general disbelief in its powers. No one then seriously questioned that the planets influenced earthly events, any more than we would question the existence of gravity today. The cause of the decline was a general ‘torpor’, as the historian Keith Thomas put it, in English mathematics.6 It was impossible, for example, to get English ephemerides, so they had to be imported at great expense. Dee’s aim was to shake England out of this torpor, and it was his Propaedeumata that set the trend.
Dee theorised that every entity in the universe emanated ‘rays’ of a force which influenced other objects it struck. He took as an example the forces of attraction and repulsion produced by the ‘lodestone’ – magnetised iron ore. This demonstrated in miniature what was happening throughout the cosmos. The rays’ important feature for Dee was that they could be studied scientifically. He pleaded for more detailed astronomical studies, so that the true sizes and distances, and therefore influence, of the heavenly bodies could be established.
This became the basis of Dee’s natural philosophy, and in several ways it anticipates Isaac Newton’s ground-breaking Principia Mathematica, which triggered the scientific revolution and modern physics, by over a century. There are similarities with Newton’s theory of gravity: the idea of a magnetic-like force emanating from physical bodies which acts on others; the emphasis on mathematics combined with measurement as a way of discovering how such a force works. Furthermore Dee believed, like Newton, that the universe worked according to mathematical laws.
His other works of this time, few of which have survived, only reinforce the impression that he was moving towards a decidedly scientific view of the universe. He wrote papers on perspective, on astronomical instruments and on the properties of circular motions. As early as 1553, while working for Northumberland’s household, he wrote a work dedicated to the duke’s wife on the ebb and flow of tides, a subject directly related to the idea of gravity – also an interest