This book offers the reader a tour of one of the more peculiar corners of medieval thought, a corner defined by the intersection of three enterprises: Spiritual Franciscanism, Joachite apocalypticism, and alchemical speculation. John of Rupescissa (1310–ca.1365), also known to history as Jean de Roquetaillade, played a minor but fascinating role in all three enterprises, and Leah DeVun poses the question whether they were related to each other, in his mind and in the minds of at least some of his contemporaries. Her book is a valuable addition to recent scholarship on late medieval “outsiders,” following in the footsteps of Robert E. Lerner and Bernard McGinn.
A Catalonian by birth, John joined the Franciscan order in 1332, apparently while studying at the University of Toulouse. He was attracted to the “Spiritual” wing of the order, which combined an uncompromising devotion to Franciscan poverty with fervent apocalyptic expectation. Drawing on the thought of Joachim of Fiore as appropriated by Franciscan radicals such as Peter John Olivi, the Spirituals saw themselves as playing a central role as the faithful remnant persecuted by Antichrist, and eventually as a source of eschatological redemption and renewal for the Church. This stance placed them at loggerheads with the leaders of their own order, who (as the Spirituals saw it) had betrayed the ideals and perverted the rule of their founder. And it did not endear them to the papacy, which they indicted as worldly and corrupt.
In 1344 John was accused of heresy and arrested by his superiors, and he spent the next five years languishing in miserable Franciscan prisons, despite a formal acquittal. Escaping in 1349, he made his way to the papal court at Avignon, where he received a hearing that he used, not surprisingly, to repeat his fiery prophecies. The Curia vindicated his orthodoxy but not his sanity; he was declared “fantasticus” and remanded to the “Sultan's Prison” at Avignon, where he remained for the rest of his life. This incarceration was a great improvement on the Franciscan dungeons, however. John apparently had access to visitors, books from the papal library, and writing materials, and he began a period of intense literary productivity that lasted until 1356.
Although most of the works he produced at Avignon were theological or apocalyptic in content, at least two, the Liber lucis and the Liber de consideratione quinte essentie omnium rerum, were alchemical—although John disdained the term alchemy, preferring to style himself a natural philosopher. The first treatise is a standard treatment of transmutational ideas, while the second is a somewhat more original foray into medical alchemy, which anticipates ideas in modern pharmacology. They are linked by a common, apocalyptically defined purpose, that of preparing the viri pauperi evangelici (his fellow Spiritual Franciscans) for their role of resistance against the Antichrist. This suggests that John envisioned an eschatological future that was both determined by God and also patient of contingent human decision and action. Hence, divine revelation and human knowledge were complementary; both the prophetic exegesis of scripture and the rational exploration of nature were seen as having spiritual import.
DeVun explores some of the proximate sources of John's ideas: Roger Bacon (1214–1292), Arnald of Villanova (ca.1240–1311), and Ramon Llull (ca.1232–1316). Not coincidentally, each of these thinkers was associated with the Franciscan order, and each combined interests in natural philosophy with apocalyptic ideas. Although John is less well-known today than his predecessors, DeVun argues that he both inherited and extended their basic scientific and theological ideas. His synthesis, in turn, influenced thinkers of the Renaissance such as Paracelsus. Hence, he represents an important link in the emergence of modern science within western Christendom.
Neither apocalyptic prophecy nor alchemical speculation was a “respectable” vocation in the late Middle Ages; the former was identified with anti-establishment agitators, and the latter was excluded from the university curriculum. Yet, fascination with both persisted among elites in Church and society, and an individual like John of Rupescissa who pursued both could become something of a celebrity at Avignon, despite his confinement. Amidst the ecclesial, political, military, and epidemical disasters of the century, prophecy and alchemy offered hope that by discerning the hidden purposes of God in scripture, history, and nature, humans could survive and even thrive.
Leah DeVun writes clearly, directly, and in an unpretentious style. John of Rupescissa's alchemy is rendered accessible to religious historians; one hopes that historians of science will find his apocalypticism explained with equal lucidity. The book is well-produced (although the slip-cover misspells “Rupescissa”), and graced with several illustrations from late medieval sources.
