In the middle of the fourteenth century, the Franciscan friar John of Rupescissa sent a dramatic warning to his the last days were coming; the apocalypse was near. Deemed insane by the Christian church, Rupescissa had spent more than a decade confined to prisons—in one case wrapped in chains and locked under a staircase—yet ill treatment could not silence the friar's apocalyptic message.
Religious figures who preached the end times were hardly rare in the late Middle Ages, but Rupescissa's teachings were unique. He claimed that knowledge of the natural world, and alchemy in particular, could act as a defense against the plagues and wars of the last days. His melding of apocalyptic prophecy and quasi-scientific inquiry gave rise to a new genre of alchemical writing and a novel cosmology of heaven and earth. Most important, the friar's research represented a remarkable convergence between science and religion.
In order to understand scientific knowledge today, Leah DeVun asks that we revisit Rupescissa's life and the critical events of his age—the Black Death, the Hundred Years' War, the Avignon Papacy—through his eyes. Rupescissa treated alchemy as medicine (his work was the conceptual forerunner of pharmacology) and represented the emerging technologies and views that sought to combat famine, plague, religious persecution, and war. The advances he pioneered, along with the exciting strides made by his contemporaries, shed critical light on later developments in medicine, pharmacology, and chemistry.
Leah DeVun is associate professor of history at Rutgers University. DeVun is the author of Prophecy, Alchemy, and the End of Time: John of Rupescissa in the Late Middle Ages (Columbia, 2009) and was coeditor of Trans*historicities (2018), an issue of TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly.
If John of Rupescissa didn't exist, I'd probably have eventually invented him in some kind of weird medieval history equivalent of fan fiction. He manages to push all my history geek buttons at once: he's a 14th century apocalyptic preacher, he fell in with the descendants of the Spiritual Franciscans, and he decided that these endeavors could be best served by doing some hardcore science, predominantly in the wackier end of the alchemical spectrum. The pope, sitting in Avignon just before the Great Schism in 1378, couldn't quite find the grounds to call him a heretic and instead labeled him "fantastic" and tossed the guys into prison cell under the stairs like some kind of apocalyptic Harry Potter. There's even one little aside where he makes a nemesis in prison who keeps mocking him and finally just tries to shank him. Seriously, the guy is the textbook definition of colorful.
You couldn't really blame Leah DeVun if she just wanted to put together a biography of John because he was awesome, but she instead delves more deeply into her subject's writings and winds up with a really interesting study that looks at the intersection between science and apocalyptic spirituality in the 14th century. DeVun makes the argument that John of Rupescissa's apocalyptic writings - in the tradition of Joachim of Fiore and the Spiritual Franciscans - and his alchemical writings - in the tradition of Roger Bacon, Arnold of Vilanova, and Ramon Llull - were part of a single integrated system. In its most basic sense, John was aiming to use alchemy to bolster humanity's situation during the imminent apocalypse, in both a practical and spiritual sense. He did this primarily through his study of the "quintessence" (the fifth element) which he reworked from earlier definitions to be an immutable element at the heart of mutable, earthly objects that could be ascertained through complex processes of distillation. This quintessence could be used for healing and for transmutation of metals, all the better to survive the apocalypse with. In the centuries after John of Rupescissa, his ideas on quintessence were picked up by Paracelsus, one of the founders of pharmacology.
DeVun analysis of John's language and metaphors - alchemical procedures were regularly compared to heaven, Christ, or the Passion - nicely demonstrates the integrated nature of his thought and corrects and tendency to look at scientists and preachers in separate spheres. It's a really enjoyable book about a fascinating topic, and the only reason I docked a star was because the book was quite a bit longer than it needed to be. On a couple of occasions it gets repetitive and the same points are made several times. It's not a big issue, though, and it's still definitely worth a read.
It was an interesting read, but because I had to read it for school and quickly I don't think I got as much out of it as it had to offer. Will most likely go back and read again.
I've been trying to finish this book for a while now. I love Leah's writting but I just don't have enough time to devote to this topic right now. I'm calling it unfinished.