The field of early alchemy, which is not widely studied, has had a windfall over the past year with the publication of three monographs. Two of them, Hathor's Alchemy by A. Roberts (2019) and my own study of Zosimos of Panopolis, Becoming Gold (Grimes 2018), focus on the Egyptian contexts of alchemical literature, which began to appear in Egypt in the first century ce. D. takes a different approach, examining the dynamics of scholarly patronage in the Roman period and its influence on the development of alchemical texts and traditions.
D. begins by painting a portrait of the client scholar as one hired to explicate Greek and Latin literature and sometimes to produce new works; they are specialists in paideia. Little is written about them, and D. draws largely from Latin sources to illustrate the delicate relationship between the aristocratic patron and the client scholar, who would serve as a tutor for the household and was often sought as a banquet guest. As intellectual companions, scholars could bring prestige to their patrons, yet they were not seen as equals. D. discusses two stereotypes of the client scholar. The first is that of the parasite, where scholars are portrayed as opportunistic windbags greedy for banquet fare. Over time this stereotype gets replaced by another, that of the learned sorcerer. One of the strengths of D.’s book is his discussion of the shift to the latter. In the first four chapters he delves into the relationship between magic and paideia, tracing the rise in popularity of magical texts and practitioners in the Roman period. Magoi from the east (e.g. Egypt, Persia and Samaria) were respected and sought after by the Roman elite, who were desirous for their exotic wisdom. As a result, aristocrats came to expect that client scholars would have some familiarity with magic; the downside is that they could easily be dismissed as being too ‘foreign’ or condemned as charlatans (or worse) for exhibiting this knowledge. D. gives examples from several texts, including the apocryphal Acts of Peter, that describe learned men and learned sorcerers competing for scholarly patronage; the learned man would prevail over the magician, who was usually exposed as a fraud.
D.’s study of client scholars and magicians contributes to recent scholarship on the rise of freelance ritual and philosophy experts in late antiquity. Especially valuable is his argument that scholarly patronage was a source of innovation, since the demand for Eastern wisdom led scholars to engage with themes outside of classical paideia. For D. this is where the connection to alchemy comes in. Focusing on the somewhat performative roles that client scholars had at banquets, D. shows that one of the intriguing ways they demonstrated their knowledge of natural philosophy and magic is through paignia, which were party tricks or ‘philosophical appetizers’, as D. calls them. He cites several recipes by Anaxilaus of Larissa as examples, such as adding sulphur to wine and heating it, which would cast a ghoulish pallor when held under guests’ faces (p. 54). He lists similar recipes attributed to Democritus, the alleged author of several magical and alchemical texts from the Roman period.
It is not until the last two chapters that D. begins his discussion of alchemy. He starts by surveying non-alchemical literature for references to chêmeia (a term used in early alchemical texts, albeit rarely) and to the transmutation of metals, and, finding a lack, he hypothesises that alchemical authors were not seen as a distinct group of scholars and that there was no concept of alchemy as a practice or a body of literature as the tradition was forming in late antiquity. Rather, he thinks that alchemists primarily thought of themselves as scholars and philosophers. I presume D. believes that their intense interest in metals came from their studies of natural philosophy, magic and paignia, since he connects these threads in earlier chapters.
The remainder of the book focuses on Zosimos of Panopolis (fourth century ce), whom D. positions as a client scholar and the first known commentator of alchemical texts. D. sees Zosimos as a Christian scholar hired by a wealthy woman named Theosebeia to advise her on spiritual and metallic transmutation. D. constructs his view largely from a passage where Zosimos describes a visit to Theosebeia's house, where he meets her structor (a servant who prepares meals and banquets) and consults her collection of metallurgical texts (MA 8). D. infers from these details, as others have before him, that Theosebeia was wealthy and probably Zosimos’ patron. The structor figure ties in nicely with D.’s discussion of banquets and helps to cement his portrayal of Zosimos as a client scholar. Zosimos is also competing with other alchemists for Theosebeia's patronage, and D. convincingly demonstrates that Zosimos’ polemics against his rivals, whom he accuses of using magic, echo Roman stereotypes of the learned paideia scholar versus the learned sorcerer. Several others have written about Zosimos’ polemics as cultural debates over licit (sacred) vs illicit (magical) practices and as debates over the types of astrological methods used in making alchemical tinctures; D.’s analysis of the scholarly nature of Zosimos’ polemics brings fresh insights to consider. His overall point is to show that scholarly patronage helped to legitimise alchemical commentaries like Zosimos’, which were more in line with classical paideia, thus ensuring their preservation.
Scholars of early alchemy have tended to focus their analyses on the alchemical texts themselves, analysing the chemistry, the influence of Greek philosophy or, in Zosimos’ case, the fascinating mix of religious ideas he presents in conjunction with metallurgical recipes and techniques. Until recently, there has not been much effort to flesh out the professional contexts of the early alchemical writers. D. attempts this with his study of client scholars and scholarly patronage, and I am glad for his effort, even though our understanding of Zosimos (and early alchemy in general) are sometimes at odds. I situate alchemy within the metallurgical trade networks of Roman Egypt, namely temple workshops and trade guilds, arguing that alchemical texts appeared once trade guilds began to be established in Egypt in the Roman period; whereas D. places the development of the alchemical tradition outside of the metallurgical profession, growing out of the intellectual and spiritual curiosity of scholars and the aristocracy. I am not convinced that Theosebeia would take such a keen interest in metallurgy, which she taught to others, if she was not involved in the profession. Her books and use of a structor – which D. takes as signs of wealth – could also be signs of her involvement in a trade guild (they held banquets, too). D. also argues that Zosimos was turning Theosebeia away from the magical Egyptian traditions of his rivals by asserting the superiority of the Democritean alchemical literature, thereby placing alchemy firmly in the realm of Greek paideia (p. 144). Zosimos certainly has high regard for Democritus’ works and cites him often, but I think D. exaggerates these appeals to the Democritean tradition, making it seem as though this is the only author of importance to Zosimos. Zosimos cites other authorities, including Maria the Jewess, and he speaks highly of Egyptian, Hebrew and Greek traditions (e.g. MA 1); so D.’s claims here seem oversimplified.
Despite our different views on these matters, I certainly recommend D.’s book. His work on scholarly patronage as a source of innovation and legitimation is a solid, valuable contribution to the scholarship of early alchemy and an important perspective to consider when looking at the ways in which alchemical texts were collected and preserved over time.
