In the early 17th century, a quiet revolution began not in the halls of philosophy but in the workshops of inventors who built, tested, and refined machines with their hands. Their work laid the groundwork for what would become the scientific method, a process often credited solely to thinkers like Francis Bacon. Yet historical evidence shows that engineers such as Cornelis Drebbel and Salomon de Caus demonstrated the principles of empirical inquiry long before they were formalized in print. Their practical experiments with submarines, automata, and hydraulic systems provided tangible proof that knowledge advances through making, testing, and iteration.
This perspective challenges the common narrative that science precedes and guides engineering. Instead, it reveals a reciprocal relationship where hands-on creation drives discovery. By examining the lives and inventions of these early engineers, we gain insight into how the scientific method emerged not from abstract theory alone, but from the muddy, iterative reality of building things that work.
Francis Bacon’s 1627 utopian novel Latest Atlantis described an ideal society centered on Salomon’s House, an institution dedicated to understanding nature through experimentation, and invention. While the story is fictional, scholars agree that Bacon drew inspiration from real inventors he encountered in England. Among them were Drebbel, a Dutch engineer known for his pioneering submarine, and de Caus, a French engineer celebrated for elaborate water-driven gardens. Both men exemplified the iterative, test-driven approach Bacon later championed in his philosophical works.
To understand their influence, It’s essential to verify key facts about their lives and contributions through reliable historical sources.
Cornelis Drebbel: The Innovator Who Built a Working Submarine
Cornelis Drebbel was born in Alkmaar, Netherlands, in 1572 and died in London in 1633. He moved to England around 1604 at the invitation of King James I, where he gained patronage for his inventive prowess. Historical records confirm that by the early 1620s, Drebbel demonstrated a navigable submarine on the River Thames. Contemporary accounts, including those from Constantijn Huygens, describe a vessel that could remain submerged for several hours, using tubes to draw air from the surface. Later interpretations suggest Drebbel may have used potassium nitrate to generate oxygen, though this remains debated among historians.
Drebbel’s submarine was not a one-time demonstration but the result of iterative testing. He built multiple versions, adjusting materials and design based on performance. This process mirrors the modern engineering cycle of design, test, analyze, and refine. Beyond the submarine, Drebbel developed a thermostat-like incubator using mercury expansion to regulate temperature, crafted some of the earliest compound microscopes, and explored perpetual motion concepts driven by atmospheric changes—ideas that, while not successful in their original form, reflected an early grasp of energy transfer principles.
His work was documented by contemporaries and later historians. The Encyclopædia Britannica notes his role as an inventor and engineer who combined practical skill with scientific curiosity. His legacy lies not in theoretical treatises but in demonstrable, working machines that pushed the boundaries of what was considered possible.
Salomon de Caus: Engineering Spectacle Through Hydraulic Precision
Salomon de Caus was born in Dieppe, France, in 1576 and died in Paris in 1626. He traveled to England around 1610, where he worked as an engineer and garden designer for royal patrons, including Prince Henry, the eldest son of James I. De Caus gained fame for transforming royal gardens into dynamic displays of moving statues, singing birds, and flowing water—all powered by hidden hydraulic systems. These installations relied on precise understanding of water pressure, air displacement, and mechanical timing.
In 1615, de Caus published Les Raisons des Forces Mouvantes (The Reasons for Moving Forces), an illustrated treatise detailing how water and air could be used to drive mechanical devices. The work included designs for fountains, organs, and automata, grounded in principles known since antiquity but applied with new sophistication. Unlike theoretical texts, his book emphasized buildable designs, reflecting his belief that understanding comes through making.
Historical sources confirm that de Caus’s installations at sites like Somerset House and Greenwich Palace were marvels of engineering. The British Museum holds drawings attributed to him that show detailed plans for water-driven mechanisms. His approach combined artistry with technical rigor, requiring careful calculation and testing to ensure reliability.
De Caus’s work illustrates how engineering in the early 17th century was not merely about replication but about innovation grounded in physical principles. His ability to predict and control the behavior of water and air through constructed systems demonstrates an early form of hypothesis-driven experimentation.
How Experimental Practice Shaped Bacon’s Philosophy
Francis Bacon, born in 1561 and died in 1626, is often credited with formalizing the empirical method. His 1620 work Novum Organum criticized reliance on Aristotelian logic and advocated for a new approach to studying nature based on observation, experimentation, and inductive reasoning. He argued that knowledge should be built from the ground up, using tools to probe nature and testing ideas through repeatable trials.
While Novum Organum laid out the philosophical framework, New Atlantis provided a vision of what such a method could achieve in practice. Salomon’s House, with its specialized halls for experimentation and its focus on solving real-world problems, mirrored the workshops of inventors like Drebbel and de Caus. Bacon did not invent the experimental method from nothing; he generalized what he observed in the workshops of skilled makers.
Historians of science, including those at the Royal Society, acknowledge Bacon’s role in promoting experimental inquiry. The Society, founded in 1660, adopted his emphasis on evidence over authority, encapsulated in its motto Nullius in verba—“take no one’s word for it.” Many of its early fellows were practitioners who valued hands-on investigation, reflecting the influence of the engineer-inventor tradition.
Bacon himself was not a practicing engineer or artisan. His strength lay in synthesizing and advocating for a new way of knowing. The experimental culture he promoted had already been alive in the workshops of Europe for decades, where failure was expected, iteration was routine, and success was measured by function.
The Legacy of the Engineer-Inventor in Scientific Practice
Over time, the narrative of scientific progress shifted to emphasize theory over practice. In the 19th century, as professions became more formalized, the term “scientist” was coined to distinguish those who worked in theory from those who applied knowledge. Engineering was increasingly framed as “applied science,” implying that it merely implemented principles discovered elsewhere.
This view overlooks the historical reality that many foundational insights emerged from solving practical problems. For example, the development of the steam engine involved intense experimentation with pressure, materials, and condensation—work that advanced thermodynamics as much as it was guided by it. Similarly, early electrical pioneers like Michael Faraday, who began as a bookbinder’s apprentice, made breakthroughs through persistent experimentation rather than theoretical deduction alone.
Modern research and development continues to reflect this interplay. Fields such as robotics, materials science, and biomedical engineering rely on cycles of prototyping, testing, and refinement. Failures are not seen as endpoints but as data points. This mindset—central to engineering practice—is similarly fundamental to the scientific method.
Recognizing the role of engineers in shaping scientific inquiry does not diminish the value of theory. Instead, it highlights that progress often arises at the intersection of doing and understanding. When Drebbel adjusted his submarine’s air supply or de Caus fine-tuned a fountain’s water flow, they were engaging in a form of inquiry as rigorous as any laboratory experiment—one rooted in the necessity of making things work.
Why This History Matters Today
Understanding the origins of the scientific method helps correct a persistent misconception: that knowledge flows linearly from theory to practice. In reality, the relationship is dynamic. Engineers and inventors often pose questions that drive scientific investigation, just as scientific discoveries open new possibilities for design.
This perspective has practical implications for education and innovation policy. Encouraging hands-on experimentation, tolerating failure, and valuing iterative design are not just engineering skills—they are core components of scientific thinking. Programs that integrate making with inquiry, such as maker spaces in schools or industrial research labs that prototype rapidly, reflect this deeper truth.
recognizing the historical contributions of figures like Drebbel and de Caus broadens our view of who contributes to knowledge. It reminds us that insight can emerge from workshops as well as laboratories, from artisans as well as academics. In an era where interdisciplinary collaboration is increasingly valued, this inclusive view of scientific practice feels both accurate and timely.
As we continue to face complex challenges—from climate change to public health—we benefit from remembering that the most robust solutions often arise not from pure thought alone, but from the disciplined act of building, testing, and learning from what works.
To stay informed about developments in the history of science and technology, readers can explore resources from institutions like the Science Museum Group or the IEEE History Center. Engaging with this history helps us appreciate not just what we know, but how we came to know it.