Born at Utrecht, Martin Schoock studied Law at Franeker, possibly philosophy and theology at Leiden and in any case philosophy at Utrecht, where he was the first to take a degree (1636), his supervisor being Descartes’ friend Henricus Reneri. In 1638 he was appointed “professor extraordinary” (i.e., reader or associate professor) in the humanities at Utrecht, but the same year moved to Deventer to become professor of history and eloquence. In 1640 he became professor of logic and physics at Groningen. In 1666, finally, plagued by financial problems and a deserved reputation of alcoholism, he fled to Frankfurt on the Oder to become professor of history.

Schoock was a prolific author, who wrote on a wide range of subjects, varying from the history of the Dutch revolt and the struggle against the sea to the fabrication of butter and beer and the production of peat – not to mention his numerous polemical works. From his early days, he must have been a protégé of Gysbertus Voetius for whom he wrote against the Remonstrants and the Catholics even before he was appointed at Utrecht. Even so, he must initially have kept an open eye for the career possibilities of the new philosophy. In his dissertation, On the Nature of Sound and the Echo, which he reworked into a more elaborate treatise, he announces a new era for philosophy. However, in 1642, after the publication of the Letter to Dinet, he was dragged into Descartes’ conflict with Voetius. The result was Admiranda methodus (1643). Written in a difficult Latin and crammed with classical allusions the book contains some serious accusations, in particular, that Descartes is a second Vanini, who in 1619 was burned at the stake. What one finds in Descartes would be a particular brand of atheism (“subtle atheism”), which consists in presenting usually weak arguments for the existence of God, while doing everything to undermine religion. Schoock dissociated himself from this part of his work, implicitly claiming that it came from Voetius. He also criticized the way Descartes spoke of books and learning and condemned Descartes’ criterion of evidence as encouraging private fantasies: all the student had to do, according to him, was to forget the evidence of his eyes and the arguments of others and believe whatever Descartes pontificated.