Not sure how it popped into my head, but I decided I wanted to learn about the history of alchemy. I looked for a book with that minimal background and stumbled across this book... boy did I get lucky. This book scratched the exact itch and then some.
It is a relatively short book as far as history books go (~200pgs), but it makes the most of every page. It gives a great high-level overview of what is meant by alchemy and how that relates to the history of chemistry. It does a great job covering the historiography (what sources to do we have and how have they influenced our understanding?) and focuses mainly on the key historical figures, many of which are beyond colorful. There are also many other historical figures touched on that you will surely recognize: Aristotle, Plato, Pythagoras, Paracelsus, Geoffrey Chaucer, Isaac Newton, Robert Boyle... the list goes on.
The best part? The author has background as both historian and scientist, and I would argue only someone with that type of background could do the topic justice. The author goes to the lengths of performing experiments to prove out historical methods and put us in the shoes of those figures. The results are surprising and informative. Oh, and the author is engaging and downright funny. The chapter walking through the ancient instructions or "12 keys" involved in chrysopoeia (turning metal into gold), deciphering the coded messages, etc. read like a mystery novel and was an absolute page-turner. Highly recommend this book even if you have a cursory interest in the subject.
The Secrets of Alchemy
4.5 4.5 out of 5 stars | 215 ratings
Price: 15.04
Last update: 09-16-2024
About this item
In The Secrets of Alchemy, Lawrence M. Principe, one of the world's leading authorities on the subject, brings alchemy out of the shadows and restores it to its important place in human history and culture. By surveying what alchemy was and how it began, developed, and overlapped with a range of ideas and pursuits, Principe illuminates the practice. He vividly depicts the place of alchemy during its heyday in early modern Europe, and then explores how alchemy has fit into wider views of the cosmos and humanity, touching on its enduring place in literature, fine art, theater, and religion as well as its recent acceptance as a serious subject of study for historians of science.
In addition, he introduces the listener to some of the most fascinating alchemists, such as Zosimos and Basil Valentine, whose lives dot alchemy's long reign from the third century and to the present day. Through his exploration of alchemists and their times, Principe pieces together closely guarded clues from obscure and fragmented texts to reveal alchemy's secrets, and—most exciting for budding alchemists—uses them to recreate many of the most famous recipes in his lab, including those for the "glass of antimony" and "philosophers' tree." This unique approach brings the listener closer to the actual work of alchemy than any other book.
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I'll confess that the title of my review here is drawn from a published review, but in my defense it's a review that I wrote. As I've done with other scholarly books that I've reviewed, I'll cut and paste the entire text here. Before that here's the full citation:
Neeraja Sankaran (2014). The British Journal for the History of Science, 47, pp 372-374 doi:10.1017/S0007087414000235
Full review:
Any academic book that makes allusions to Harry Potter (the books, not the movies) that go beyond paying lip-service to the pop culture of the day gets my vote. By this token Lawrence Principe’s The Secrets of Alchemy is an undisputed top contender because it makes meaningful and context-appropriate references to J.K. Rowling’s popular series not just once or twice, but on three separate occasions. Principe begins, in the introduction, by recalling the coveted philosopher’s stone that alchemists of yore believed could turn lead into gold and by deploring its corruption into ‘the meaningless “Sorcerer’s Stone”’ in the title of the American edition of the first
Harry Potter book (p. 1). (How I cheered when I read that!) The books were invoked again in a fascinating discussion of the basilisk, that ‘hideously deadly reptile able to kill with a single glance’ (p. 54), which made its appearance several times in the series, and yet again (p. 227) in connection with an eighteenth-century legend about the philosopher’s stone’s ability to confer longevity on one Nicholas Flamel, whose story was reprised in the first Potter book.
Stones and reptiles with magical powers are not the only curious objects nor Harry Potter the only popular or literary source that Principe alludes to in this long-awaited history of one of the most mysterious of all archaic sciences. Indeed, The Secrets of Alchemy is a treasure trove of fascinating tidbits of information about the sometimes unexpected guises and places in which
the subject appears to us today. For instance, did you know that the popular culinary technique we Stones and reptiles with magical powers are not the only curious objects nor Harry Potter the only popular or literary source that Principe alludes to in this long-awaited history of one of the most mysterious of all archaic sciences. Indeed, The Secrets of Alchemy is a treasure trove
of fascinating tidbits of information about the sometimes unexpected guises and places in which the subject appears to us today. For instance, did you know that the popular culinary technique we know of today as the bain-marie (in French) or bagno maria (in Italian) is the possible legacy of an ancient alchemist named Maria Judaea or Mary the Jew (pp. 15–16)? We do not have this information because of any modern attempt to restore the place of women in the history of science (although admittedly that needs doing, and this book may be a good starting point for such a project for readers so inclined). Rather, we know about Maria Judaea because of the frequent citations of her inventions of apparatus and techniques by Zosimos of Panopolis, a Graeco-Egyptian from around AD 300, whom Principe identifies as the earliest alchemist about whom we have any ‘reliable historical details’ and fragments of whose writings have survived to this day (pp. 14–16). Medieval misogyny is revealed as rampant in the Paracelsian tract On the Nature of
Things, in which the creation of the horrific basilisk – as a product of putrefaction of menstrual blood (and thus purely female-derived) – is described in contrast to the creation, from similarly treated semen, of a homunculus, which was believed to be ‘endowed with special powers and gifts not shared by ordinary human beings, because its purity is unpolluted by the admixture of female elements’ (p. 132). The homunculus, incidentally, is an important character in the second part of Faust by Goethe, another author whose dabblings in alchemy are mentioned by Principe. Yet another alchemical hand-me-down is our word ‘gas’, coined in the seventeenth century by Joan Baptista Van Helmont from ‘chaos’ to define the ‘noncondensable substance more subtle than any vapor’ left over from the destruction of any solid or liquid substance by fire (p. 134). know of today as the bain-marie (in French) or bagno maria (in Italian) is the possible legacy of an ancient alchemist named Maria Judaea or Mary the Jew (pp. 15–16)? We do not have this information because of any modern attempt to restore the place of women in the history of science (although admittedly that needs doing, and this book may be a good starting point for such a project for readers so inclined). Rather, we know about Maria Judaea because of the frequent citations of her inventions of apparatus and techniques by Zosimos of Panopolis, a Graeco-Egyptian from around AD 300, whom Principe identifies as the earliest alchemist about whom we have any ‘reliable historical details’ and fragments of whose writings have survived to this day (pp. 14–16). Medieval misogyny is revealed as rampant in the Paracelsian tract On the Nature of Things, in which the creation of the horrific basilisk – as a product of putrefaction of menstrual blood (and thus purely female-derived) – is described in contrast to the creation, from similarly treated semen, of a homunculus, which was believed to be ‘endowed with special powers and gifts not shared by ordinary human beings, because its purity is unpolluted by the admixture of female elements’ (p. 132). The homunculus, incidentally, is an important character in the second part of Faust by Goethe, another author whose dabblings in alchemy are mentioned by Principe. Yet another alchemical hand-me-down is our word ‘gas’, coined in the seventeenth century by Joan Baptista Van Helmont from ‘chaos’ to define the ‘noncondensable substance more subtle than any vapor’ left over from the destruction of any solid or liquid substance by fire (p. 134).
I could go on ad infinitum with other such references but will leave the interested readers to discover these gems for themselves and turn to the value of this book other than in providing arcana with which to entertain and impress others. Scholars of the history of alchemy and of medieval and early modern science have already offered their commentaries – very positive ones – in their reviews of The Secrets of Alchemy, mentioning the myriad ways in which this book adds to the scholarship of their field. (See, for example, Jenny Rampling in Science (2012) 491, p. 38; and Anna Marie Roos in Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and Biomedical Sciences (2013) 44, pp. 787–789). But Principe aimed his book at ‘the nonspecialist, the general reader and the student’ (p. 3), and as a reader in this latter category, I prefer to comment on what we stand to get from this book. First, the accessible language and detailed information about ‘foundational figures who can act as reckoning points within the long alchemical tradition’ (p. 4) make this an ideal book to use as the spine or core around which to build an introductory course in the history of alchemy or chemistry (or chymistry, to borrow the author’s terminology). Principe’s main motivation in writing this book was to ‘make some of the enormous wealth of recent discoveries about alchemy accessible to a wider audience’ (p. 3) and he has succeeded most admirably in this regard. Secrets of Alchemy is the type of book I wish had been published about a decade and a half ago, when I was in search of a PhD dissertation topic. It is a goldmine of ideas and sources for scholarship in a field that is rife with opportunity, and I must admit I am envious of those of you student readers who have such a wonderful Marauder’s Map (another Harry Potter reference) to help you navigate your way through those early days of graduate school.
Neeraja Sankaran (2014). The British Journal for the History of Science, 47, pp 372-374 doi:10.1017/S0007087414000235
Full review:
Any academic book that makes allusions to Harry Potter (the books, not the movies) that go beyond paying lip-service to the pop culture of the day gets my vote. By this token Lawrence Principe’s The Secrets of Alchemy is an undisputed top contender because it makes meaningful and context-appropriate references to J.K. Rowling’s popular series not just once or twice, but on three separate occasions. Principe begins, in the introduction, by recalling the coveted philosopher’s stone that alchemists of yore believed could turn lead into gold and by deploring its corruption into ‘the meaningless “Sorcerer’s Stone”’ in the title of the American edition of the first
Harry Potter book (p. 1). (How I cheered when I read that!) The books were invoked again in a fascinating discussion of the basilisk, that ‘hideously deadly reptile able to kill with a single glance’ (p. 54), which made its appearance several times in the series, and yet again (p. 227) in connection with an eighteenth-century legend about the philosopher’s stone’s ability to confer longevity on one Nicholas Flamel, whose story was reprised in the first Potter book.
Stones and reptiles with magical powers are not the only curious objects nor Harry Potter the only popular or literary source that Principe alludes to in this long-awaited history of one of the most mysterious of all archaic sciences. Indeed, The Secrets of Alchemy is a treasure trove of fascinating tidbits of information about the sometimes unexpected guises and places in which
the subject appears to us today. For instance, did you know that the popular culinary technique we Stones and reptiles with magical powers are not the only curious objects nor Harry Potter the only popular or literary source that Principe alludes to in this long-awaited history of one of the most mysterious of all archaic sciences. Indeed, The Secrets of Alchemy is a treasure trove
of fascinating tidbits of information about the sometimes unexpected guises and places in which the subject appears to us today. For instance, did you know that the popular culinary technique we know of today as the bain-marie (in French) or bagno maria (in Italian) is the possible legacy of an ancient alchemist named Maria Judaea or Mary the Jew (pp. 15–16)? We do not have this information because of any modern attempt to restore the place of women in the history of science (although admittedly that needs doing, and this book may be a good starting point for such a project for readers so inclined). Rather, we know about Maria Judaea because of the frequent citations of her inventions of apparatus and techniques by Zosimos of Panopolis, a Graeco-Egyptian from around AD 300, whom Principe identifies as the earliest alchemist about whom we have any ‘reliable historical details’ and fragments of whose writings have survived to this day (pp. 14–16). Medieval misogyny is revealed as rampant in the Paracelsian tract On the Nature of
Things, in which the creation of the horrific basilisk – as a product of putrefaction of menstrual blood (and thus purely female-derived) – is described in contrast to the creation, from similarly treated semen, of a homunculus, which was believed to be ‘endowed with special powers and gifts not shared by ordinary human beings, because its purity is unpolluted by the admixture of female elements’ (p. 132). The homunculus, incidentally, is an important character in the second part of Faust by Goethe, another author whose dabblings in alchemy are mentioned by Principe. Yet another alchemical hand-me-down is our word ‘gas’, coined in the seventeenth century by Joan Baptista Van Helmont from ‘chaos’ to define the ‘noncondensable substance more subtle than any vapor’ left over from the destruction of any solid or liquid substance by fire (p. 134). know of today as the bain-marie (in French) or bagno maria (in Italian) is the possible legacy of an ancient alchemist named Maria Judaea or Mary the Jew (pp. 15–16)? We do not have this information because of any modern attempt to restore the place of women in the history of science (although admittedly that needs doing, and this book may be a good starting point for such a project for readers so inclined). Rather, we know about Maria Judaea because of the frequent citations of her inventions of apparatus and techniques by Zosimos of Panopolis, a Graeco-Egyptian from around AD 300, whom Principe identifies as the earliest alchemist about whom we have any ‘reliable historical details’ and fragments of whose writings have survived to this day (pp. 14–16). Medieval misogyny is revealed as rampant in the Paracelsian tract On the Nature of Things, in which the creation of the horrific basilisk – as a product of putrefaction of menstrual blood (and thus purely female-derived) – is described in contrast to the creation, from similarly treated semen, of a homunculus, which was believed to be ‘endowed with special powers and gifts not shared by ordinary human beings, because its purity is unpolluted by the admixture of female elements’ (p. 132). The homunculus, incidentally, is an important character in the second part of Faust by Goethe, another author whose dabblings in alchemy are mentioned by Principe. Yet another alchemical hand-me-down is our word ‘gas’, coined in the seventeenth century by Joan Baptista Van Helmont from ‘chaos’ to define the ‘noncondensable substance more subtle than any vapor’ left over from the destruction of any solid or liquid substance by fire (p. 134).
I could go on ad infinitum with other such references but will leave the interested readers to discover these gems for themselves and turn to the value of this book other than in providing arcana with which to entertain and impress others. Scholars of the history of alchemy and of medieval and early modern science have already offered their commentaries – very positive ones – in their reviews of The Secrets of Alchemy, mentioning the myriad ways in which this book adds to the scholarship of their field. (See, for example, Jenny Rampling in Science (2012) 491, p. 38; and Anna Marie Roos in Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and Biomedical Sciences (2013) 44, pp. 787–789). But Principe aimed his book at ‘the nonspecialist, the general reader and the student’ (p. 3), and as a reader in this latter category, I prefer to comment on what we stand to get from this book. First, the accessible language and detailed information about ‘foundational figures who can act as reckoning points within the long alchemical tradition’ (p. 4) make this an ideal book to use as the spine or core around which to build an introductory course in the history of alchemy or chemistry (or chymistry, to borrow the author’s terminology). Principe’s main motivation in writing this book was to ‘make some of the enormous wealth of recent discoveries about alchemy accessible to a wider audience’ (p. 3) and he has succeeded most admirably in this regard. Secrets of Alchemy is the type of book I wish had been published about a decade and a half ago, when I was in search of a PhD dissertation topic. It is a goldmine of ideas and sources for scholarship in a field that is rife with opportunity, and I must admit I am envious of those of you student readers who have such a wonderful Marauder’s Map (another Harry Potter reference) to help you navigate your way through those early days of graduate school.
Thom F. Cavalli PhD4.0 out of 5 stars
Alchemy, a Hot Topic!
Reviewed in the United States on November 3, 2012
Principe captures a good deal of history in this slender volume. Despite his reasons for giving no attention to Chinese and Indian alchemy, the book seems incomplete. The "secrets" of alchemy turn out mostly to be historical corrections that have surfaced with new research. There may be, for example, more than one Jabir, or none at all! Also missing was any discussion of the role of the Feminine in alchemical work (soror mystica) and philosophy (Anima Mundi). The only woman mentioned is Mary Ann Atwood; Cleopatra and Maria Prophetissa don't even make a cameo appearance. While I was impressed that Principe actually engages in alchemical laboratory work, I was disappointed that his proofs of Valentine and Starkey's allegorical recipes (that do in fact produce real results), are chemically derived. Principe does not apply anything other than his chemical and historical knowledge to the work. Personal psychic involvement is precisely what differentiates alchemy from its spiritless scion, chemistry. Nevertheless, the book moves along at a good pace and Principe does a good job describing alchemy as a discipline by brilliant, thoughtful, intuitive scientists; no apologies are needed nor is there any defense against the popular superstitions surrounding the Noble Art. The book is well written and offers accessible scholarship. Principe certainly has a vast knowledge of this difficult subject. I most particularly appreciate his statement, "Alchemy is now a hot topic among historians of science." Alchemical Psychology: Old Recipes for Living in a New World