Ancient encheiridia: from music to astrology

Nicomachus’ handbook on musical theory, the Encheiridion on Harmonics, is opened by a preface where the author claims to have written this book in a hurry, while travelling, in order to meet the demand of an unnamed noblewoman:Footnote ¹² in this way, she could have at her disposal a memorandum (hypomnēma) of the elements of harmonics.Footnote ¹³ The expression recalls the three-book treatise Elements of Harmonics by the philosopher Aristoxenus (fourth century BCE): indeed, as nicely explained by Andrew Baker, Nicomachus’ handbook unrolls ‘an exposition of the simplest and most basic structures that Aristoxenus himself identifies, re-expressed and explicated in Pythagorean terms’.Footnote ¹⁴ Nicomachus, for instance, opens his handbook with the Aristoxenian distinction between continuous and intervallic vocal movements (Chapter 2) and discusses definitions of key elements of music (e.g. notes, intervals, scales) in Chapter 12.Footnote ¹⁵ Along with this technical information, more narrative sections deal with the relations between notes and planets (Chapter 3), Pythagoras’ discovery of the eight-note scale (Chapters 5–6), and doctrines attributed to Plato and Philolaus (Chapters 8–9). Nicomachus wanted to set out the capital points (kephalaia) of harmonics in simple form, without elaboration or complex demonstration, in order to write a concise account in a single book. Because of its concision, this summary (synopsis) could serve as an encheiridion that helped the noblewoman ‘to recall herself of what is said and taught in outline [kata platos] in each section [of the handbook]’ (ἵνα … ὑπομιμνήσκῃ ἐξ αὐτῆς τῶν ἐν ἑκάστῳ κɛφαλαίῳ κατὰ πλάτος λɛγομένων τɛ καὶ διδασκομένων).Footnote ¹⁶ A kata platos explanation seems to be typical of ancient ‘summaries’ (synopseis), as one can see, for instance, in the Summary on Pulses – i.e. ancient diagnostic techniques based on the analysis and classification of pulses – attributed to the physician Rufus of Ephesus (first–second century CE). At the end of various sections of his synopsis, the author claims to have dealt with the selected topic, such as the impact of age or fevers on pulses, in outline (kata platos).Footnote ¹⁷ If the medical text (never labelled as an encheiridion) is based on earlier written works on the topic, Nicomachus’ synopsis seems to follow the lectures that he had already given to the noblewoman. At the end of the preface, Nicomachus says,

The encheiridion somehow replaces Nicomachus’ oral teaching and serves as an aide-memoire for a student who has already been taught the capital points outlined in the book. As convincingly argued by Asper, the book mirrors the contents and order of the lectures that Nicomachus gave to the noblewoman: this might explain the mixed nature of his handbook, which combines technical notions with philosophical and historical discussions.Footnote ¹⁹ This material sounded familiar to the woman, who could read through the book or linger over single sections that required more attention. Nicomachus himself occasionally guides the reader with cross references, and he specifies, in various passages, which topics have been left aside.

The author planned to deal with these topics in a more comprehensive work, namely an isagogic treatise (eisagōgē) in various books.Footnote ²⁰ At the end of his handbook, he tells the noblewoman that, gods willing, he will send her a ‘a most thorough and altogether a most complete technologia’ (πληρɛστάτην καὶ παντοίως ἐντɛλɛστάτην τὴν … τɛχνολογίαν).Footnote ²¹ In all likelihood, Nicomachus was never able to write such a treatise. The term technologia, however, deserves special attention. Frequently used by ancient grammarians, it refers to a systematic account of a given art (technē), which, after providing a definition of this art, sets up its rules.Footnote ²² While discussing the status of rhetoric, the Epicurean philosopher Philodemus (first century BCE) often refers to technologiai used in schools run by sophists: they provided instructions that, after being properly learned and practised, allowed (gifted) students to compose beautiful discourses.Footnote ²³ The term also occurs in medical treatises. In Book 48 of Oribasius’ Medical Collections (fourth century CE), the term technologia marks a section that lists different types of bandage (both ‘simple’ and ‘complex’) and explains the names and uses of each type.Footnote ²⁴ A clear effort to classify and plainly unfold the technical aspects (and nomenclature) of a given art seems typical of a technologia, a term that Nicomachus, too, used to describe his own Introduction to Arithmetic.Footnote ²⁵ The work is a textbook for beginner students, which gives a well-structured account of arithmetic (or theory of numbers), from its definition (and relationship with other disciplines, in particular geometry, music and astronomy) to the discussion of its main elements, such as odd and even numbers with their main subspecies; prime, perfect and figurate numbers; means and proportions. The style is discursive and avoids axiomatic–deductive proofs, each definition being clarified with examples that can help students to visualize abstract concepts in simple sets of numbers. Diagrams and multiplication tables complete the textbook.Footnote ²⁶ The Introduction was successful, and it was paraphrased and commented on by later philosophers; it was also used by Domninus of Larissa (fifth century CE) as the main basis for his Encheiridion of Arithmetical Introduction. This work, indeed, has been recently described as a ‘pocketbook version’ of Nicomachus’ Introduction to Arithmetic, since it follows the same structure of the earlier textbook.Footnote ²⁷ However, Domninus does not define arithmetic as a discipline and, for each basic notion, he only provides a single condensed definition (taken from Nicomachus as well as from other sources, such as the seventh book of Euclid's Elements), along with a few elementary examples. Sometimes he deals with more advanced notions, such as proportions, a topic that, as he admits (§35),Footnote ²⁸ certainly requires a specific technologia. Indeed, in his Introduction, Nicomachus devoted many pages to this subject (Chapters 21–9), providing detailed discussions for proportions of various kinds.Footnote ²⁹ Domninus, on the contrary, gives preliminary definitions of the three main types (i.e. arithmetic, geometric and harmonic proportions), condensed in a few short paragraphs (§§36–40), which fit on a single page of Riedlberger's edition. Like Nicomachus’ isagogic work, Domninus’ encheiridion, in all likelihood, was used in schools. It served as a mathematical primer for students in late antique Neoplatonic schools: their teacher summarized in it those elementary notions that they were expected to internalize in order to fully benefit from his lectures.Footnote ³⁰

Similar features characterize the handbook on metres by the Alexandrian grammarian Hephaestion (second century CE). His encheiridion provides no definition of the metrical art and its main element, namely the ‘metre’, a concept that, according to Hephaestion, would not have been grasped by inexperienced students.Footnote ³¹ Hephaestion pragmatically starts his account from the definitions of long and short syllables, the building elements of the ‘feet’ (i.e. specific sequences of syllables), which, combined according to specific patterns, form the nine metres that he describes individually. The author, indeed, wrote his handbook for beginners. Each case is elucidated by a series of examples taken from lyric and comic poetry, which were easy and appropriate for school exercises. On the contrary, tragedy and choral poetry, being more difficult, are systematically avoided by Hephaestion.Footnote ³²

Like Domninus, Hephaestion, too, based his own encheiridion on larger treatises. Relevant information on this point is provided by later scholars who commented on his handbook. This hermeneutical activity left its mark in Byzantine manuscripts, which preserve an extensive body of scholia and exegetical notes.Footnote ³³ In particular, the Byzantine teacher and grammarian George Choeroboscus (eighth–ninth centuries CE) specifies that the handbook was the result of careful textual work done by Hephaestion himself, who progressively summarized a larger treatise in forty-eight books that he wrote on metres: he first reduced this extensive treatise to eleven books, then to three books, and finally to only one book, namely the encheiridion itself.Footnote ³⁴

In a way, ancient encheiridia were types of summary, in some cases self-epitomes, when the author of a handbook abbreviated his own works.Footnote ³⁵ Arrian (first–second centuries CE), a pupil of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, took notes of the lectures given by his master, and collected them in a work commonly referred to as Discourses, in four books. This collection was summarized by Arrian himself into the well-known Encheiridion, a short handbook of Stoic ethics. In his prefatory letter addressed to Messalenus – only partially preserved in Simplicius’ Commentary on the Encheiridion (sixth century CE) – Arrian explains that he has selected from the Discourses ‘the principal and most necessary elements of this philosophy, which are most likely to move the souls of the readers’ (τὰ καιριώτατα καὶ ἀναγκαιότατα ἐν φιλοσοφίᾳ καὶ κινητικώτατα τῶν ψυχῶν).Footnote ³⁶ Unlike Nicomachus’ Encheiridion, based on the oral teaching of its author, the Stoic handbook drew on Arrian's previous transcriptions of the lectures given by Epictetus. The collected precepts were addressed to those who followed these lectures, either students attending the classes or students who, after leaving school, wanted to have an easily accessible memorandum of what they had learned.Footnote ³⁷

Self-epitomes are well known in medicine as well. Oribasius, for instance, doctor of the Emperor Julian, authored a seventy-volume encyclopedia usually referred to as Medical Collections. This large work, which collected the best of what the most accurate doctors wrote on the various parts of medicine, was abridged by Oribasius himself in two writings: (1) a Synopsis for his son Eustathius (a physician himself) in seven books; (2) a four-book work addressed to Eunapius, a rhetor and amateur physician. In the preface to the Synopsis, Oribasius claims to have abridged his Collections to produce a summary that physicians could carry along when travelling as a reminder of what is needed in practice. For this reason, Oribasius only included easily available medicines, which, unlike surgery (which required a high degree of expertise), could be handled by people with some medical experience. This feature is further emphasized in the preface to the books to Eunapius, where Oribasius claims to have only collected the most effective and simple remedies: even laypeople with limited medical experience could refer to these books and put the described therapies into practice when they were in the countryside, with no professional doctors available in the area.Footnote ³⁸ Neither summary was ever presented by Oribasius as an encheiridion, despite some similarities with the handbooks discussed above: they were summaries of larger works, which condensed in portable volumes the most useful and easily accessible elements of medicine. However, unlike ancient encheiridia, Oribasius’ summaries are multi-volume works and do not have close links with school contexts: on the contrary, they appealed to a broader readership, including amateur physicians as well as laypeople with some experience and interest in medicine.

Similar features are also recognizable in some examples of fifth-century encheiridia, which do not stem from larger textbooks or lecture notes. After being appointed Bishop of Hippo, Augustine authored a short treatise On Faith, Hope and Love (c.421 CE) for a certain Laurentius, a man of some consequence (perhaps an administrative officer). Augustine was asked by letter to write an enchiridion that would explain how to worship God properly. The explanation was simple: God must be worshipped with faith, hope and love, and Augustine briefly explained these three pillars of Christian religion in a short book that served as an encheiridion, ‘something that can be held in the hand, not just baggage for your bookshelf’ (quod manu possit astringi, non quod armaria possit onerare).Footnote ³⁹ Likewise, the monk Rufinus of Aquileia (c.400 CE) labelled his Latin translation of the Sentences of Sextus an enchiridion. The work is a compilation of ethical and religious sayings assembled by a second-century Christian author who reworked earlier pagan gnomologies.Footnote ⁴⁰ In the framework of a larger effort to build a Latin library of Greek patristic works,Footnote ⁴¹ Rufinus translated the Sentences at the request of the aristocratic woman Avita: she was looking for a book that, without being intellectually demanding, could be of great benefit to its reader (praef. 5–6). The Sentences perfectly met this demand, as the work was defined as an echeiridion in Greek or an anulus (‘ring’) in Latin: the whole book was so small that it could never leave Avita's hands, as an old precious ring that the woman always wanted to have on her finger (praef. 13–15).Footnote ⁴² Each maxim was so clear and deep that the reading of a single line could suffice for the perfection of an entire life (praef. 10–11). Despite the private requests that Augustine and Rufinus mention in their prefaces, both authors had a broader audience in mind: by simply reading and rereading their handbooks, any well-educated Christian believer could learn the teaching encapsulated in the portable books and put it into practice. These works served as vademecum that, in terms of physical format, could have been small booklets: in fact, the introduction in the fourth century CE of the codex format, which replaced papyrus rolls, made it possible to produce pocketbooks of reduced size.Footnote ⁴³

On the other hand, not every fifth-century encheiridion was a small, single book. The late antique astrologer Hephaestion of Thebes, in fact, used the term encheiridion to label a multi-volume astrological handbook (I praef. §1).Footnote ⁴⁴ His Apotelesmatics (415 CE) are a three-book compendium of earlier authoritative sources on astrology, in particular Ptolemy's and Dorotheus of Sido's works. As Hephaestion points out at the end of the preface, his encheiridion was designed to be as understandable and useful as possible in the explanation it provided, with due conciseness (syntomia), of the apotelesmatic treatises (apotelesmatika syntagmata) of the ancients. From these treatises Hephaestion extracted those data that are more needed in practice. For instance, as for the ‘powers’ (dynameis) of the seven wandering stars, he provides a dry list that reads (I.2),

All the data are taken from the first book of Ptolemy's Tetabiblos (I.4), which gives a more accurate account for each wandering star, including causal explanations of their powers.

Hephaestion's use of textual sources shows clear similarities with the working method of medical compilers, such as Oribasius, mentioned above, or Paul of Aegina (seventh century CE). Hephaestion copied material from earlier authors, cutting and pasting passages from their works, which were often rephrased, abbreviated or paraphrased.Footnote ⁴⁵ He wanted to write a compilation that could be used as a reference work by practising astrologers, as Paul of Aegina's Medical Epitome (in seven books), for instance, served as a reference book for doctors. As Philip van der Eijk has pointed out, Paul interestingly ‘compares his work to the kind of pocket-book legal synopses – what we could call a vademecum – that lawyers use for quick reference’:Footnote ⁴⁶ this might recall the two legal enchiridia that Justinian's Digest (I 2.2) attributes to the second-century jurist Sextus Pomponius.Footnote ⁴⁷ Paul's medical compilation was never referred to as an encheiridion in late antiquity. However, it is worth mentioning that it did receive a similar label during the Renaissance. In 1538, the Swiss learned physician Alban Thorer (or Albanus Torinus, 1489–1550) published a full Latin translation of the Medical Epitome under the title Pauli Aeginetae medicinae totius enchiridion.Footnote ⁴⁸ In the preface, the translator praised Paul of Aegina, compendiosissimus medicinae scriptor (‘the most concise medical writer’), for having provided the best possible summary of the medical art in all its parts.

Alchemical handbooks

In the sixteenth century various works on medicine were published under the title of enchiridia. An anonymous enchiridion medicinae, for instance, was printed in Paris in 1571: a short pharmacopeia (thirty-nine pages) mainly featuring lists of drugs, both simple medicines and ingredients for compound medicines. In 1573, the work was reprinted in Basel by Georg Henisch (1549–1618), who praised its conciseness in a freshly added preface: because of its very small size, scholars (studiosi) could easily look through the book and learn its content by heart.Footnote ⁴⁹

Unlike these early modern writings, late antique medical works were never labelled encheiridia. On the contrary, intriguing instances of the term encheiridion can be found in the alchemical works of Zosimus of Panopolis, active in Graeco-Roman Egypt between the third and the fourth centuries CE.

Heir of an earlier tradition including various pseudepigraphic works, Zosimus composed an extensive alchemical oeuvre whose textual tradition is as rich as it is entangled.Footnote ⁵⁰ Only an epitomized version of Zosimus’ original Greek opus has been handed down by Byzantine manuscripts, where snippets of his authentic compositions have been excerpted and reorganized in sections that do not mirror their earliest organization. One can get a glimpse of the original structure of Zosimus’ alchemical work by considering the twelve treatises preserved in Syriac translation, and handed down in a single manuscript that I am currently editing and translating into English (Cambridge University Library, MS Mm. 6.29, fifteenth century).Footnote ⁵¹ These twelve treatises, or mimre in Syriac, are mainly collections of recipes organized around specific areas of expertise, such as the making of inks; the working of copper, tin or iron; and the like.Footnote ⁵²

Particularly relevant for our discussion is the work transmitted under the title Eighth Treatise (mimro) on the Making of Tin. Letter ḥet [i.e. the eighth letter of the Syriac alphabet]. Book That Tells Us about Tin. Zosimus Warmly Greets the Queen Theosebeia. The treatise is dedicated to Zosimus’ usual addressee, the rich woman Theosebeia – here even presented as a queen – who is often mentioned in the Greek excerpts as the dearest student of the Graeco-Egyptian alchemist.Footnote ⁵³ It mainly includes metallurgical recipes describing how to manipulate tin: the metal was ‘purified’, being mixed with alum, arsenic ores, soda, and other ingredients; it was superficially dyed with animal and vegetal substances (various kinds of bile, juices, etc.); it was melted with other metals, such as copper or lead (whose preliminary treatments are also described), in order to make coloured alloys. The opening section of the treatise provides a fascinating account of the origins of the first book of alchemy, which represents one of the most detailed versions of the legend of the revelation of alchemical secrets by fallen angels. This legend, already outlined in earlier alchemical works, deeply depends on the Enochian tradition and, in particular, on the so-called Book of the Watchers. The first book of alchemy – Zosimus explains – was revealed to humankind by the fallen angels (simply called ‘demons’ in the text), who, after leaving Heaven and attracted by the beauty of women, passed on their secret knowledge to them.Footnote ⁵⁴ After setting the story in this mythological framework, Zosimus gives the following description of the foundational book that encapsulated all the teaching of the fallen angels (Mm. 6.29, fol. 49v6–16):Footnote ⁵⁵

The revealed book of alchemy was composed of twenty-four sections or tomes, some of which were simply marked by a letter of the alphabet, others bearing more proper titles. Zosimus lists a few instances of the expressions used as headings: (1) the terms Imus and Imut, that are close to the Greek Imouth (Ἰμουθ), perhaps an abbreviated form for Imhotep (Ἰμούθης), the famous architect who served the mythical Egyptian pharaoh Djoser;Footnote ⁵⁷ (2) ‘key’, qlido in Syriac, which corresponds to the Greek kleis or kleidion (κλɛίς or κλɛιδίον); (3) ‘seal’ or ‘signet’, ḥtimo in Syriac, which literally means ‘what is sealed’; (4) ‘handbook’, namely the Syriac transcription of the Greek term encheiridion.

It is certainly difficult, if not impossible, to reconstruct the contents of an alchemical encheiridion, which was part of a larger, mythical book revealed by fallen angels. The twenty-four tomes that would have encapsulated this revelation remain part of a foundational myth of alchemy, whose reality goes beyond history. However, the alchemical art is, first of all, a written science, or at least is always presented as such by its practitioners. They identify themselves with the heirs of a long-established and distinguished tradition, which was traced back to mythical and wise founders. The teaching of these founders always takes a written form, being encapsulated in ancient books, whose contents and structure were to be interpreted and passed on over centuries.

In the above-mentioned passage, Zosimus complains that those who received the twenty-four tomes and their successors dispersed and abridged this knowledge. We must observe, however, that in other passages of his twelve treatises (mimre), Zosimus clearly refers to alchemical writings bearing the same titles as the twenty-four tomes of the original book of alchemy. For instance, in his tenth treatise, entitled The Tenth Letter on Lead, Letter yud (i.e. the tenth letter of the Syriac alphabet), Zosimus includes a recipe that explains how to produce gold-coloured silver. After giving the instructions, he specifies that similar treatments are to be found ‘in the treatise [mimro] entitled Signet, and in the other [treatise entitled] Position, and also in the treatise entitled Key’ (MS Mm. 6.29, fol. 71r14–16).Footnote ⁵⁸ The title Imout is also mentioned in many passages throughout Zosimus’ twelve treatises: for instance, in his first mimro, he claims that all the practices described in the original books of alchemy are somehow encapsulated in the treatise entitled Imout (MS Mm. 6.29, fol. 17r5–6);Footnote ⁵⁹ in the seventh mimro, in a section devoted to the making of silver, he refers to the first and the second treatises of the Imout, which describe techniques for polishing bronze and producing metallic mirrors (MS Mm. 6.29, fol. 46v13–16).Footnote ⁶⁰

Along with these titles, the Encheiridion, too, is mentioned again by Zosimus in his twelfth Treatise on Electrum.Footnote ⁶¹ After a long discussion on talismans, namely little metallic bottles (Syr. qulo, lit. ‘pitcher’) that Solomon himself would have described as powerful tools to capture demons, Zosimus refers to Jewish writings as the main sources for this topic.Footnote ⁶² However, technical information on the nine ingredients used to produce the bottles and, in particular, the metallic alloy electrum they were made of, could be found in other writings as well (MS Mm. 6.29, fol. 88v13–19):

Zosimus seems to consider a work entitled encheiridion as a relevant source on the ingredients – i.e. the nine substances he already mentioned in the previous part of the treatise – and the procedures necessary for the making of electrum. Less clear is his reference to the QRWQYṬYDWS, almost certainly the transcription of a Greek term, which is, however, difficult to reconstruct and interpret.Footnote ⁶⁶ Regardless of this opacity, Zosimus seems to give a kind of summary of what one would have found in the quoted sources and lists different metals that, after undergoing various treatments, take specific physical characteristics in terms of colour, hardness or purity. A few recipes on how to treat some of these metals are collected in the following and last part of Zosimus’ treatise (MS Mm. 6.29, fols. 89r–90r).

At this point, one might wonder whether Zosimus, in the passages mentioned above, was actually referring to some books he had access to, books that bore the same titles as the alchemical tomes revealed by the fallen angels. If we consider the tendency of ancient alchemical literature towards pseudepigraphy, in particular the attribution of many writings to remote figures (such as Moses, Ostanes or Democritus), we cannot rule out the possibility that, in Zosimus’ day, alchemical books with similar titles circulated in Egypt under the names of the mythical founders of the alchemical art. Various Byzantine alchemical authors mention a book entitled Kleidion (κλɛιδίον), ‘the little key’, or Kleis (κλɛίς), ‘key’, attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. According to the alchemist Christianos (seventh–eighth centuries CE), in this book Hermes would have dealt with the so-called komaris, an unidentified substance mentioned in recipes for purple dyeing;Footnote ⁶⁷ Stephanos of Alexandria (seventh century CE) claims that Hermes explained how to treat the stone etesios (unidentified) with copper and oil in his Little Key.Footnote ⁶⁸ The same title was probably used to introduce the Greek recipe book that, translated into Latin, is known as Mappae clavicula, one of the most famous and successful medieval collections of alchemical recipes.Footnote ⁶⁹ The term clavicula, indeed, seems to correspond to the Greek kleidion: according to its preface, this collection of recipes (compositio) was meant to provide the ‘key’ to unlock the instructions found in the ancient ‘sacred books’, presumably the alchemical books of the ancients.Footnote ⁷⁰

After the seminal study of Robert Halleux and Paul Meyvaert,Footnote ⁷¹ scholars generally agree that this collection of almost two hundred recipes must be identified with an early Latin translation of a (now lost) Greek original corpus perhaps entitled Kleidion cheirokmētōn (κλɛιδίον χɛιροκμήτων), ‘the little key to the Cheirokmēta’.Footnote ⁷² If the term clavicula is usually interpreted as the translation of the Greek kleidion, ‘litte key’, more enigmatic is the second term, mappa, lit. ‘cloth, towel, napkin’, which does not sound very apt for an alchemical book. In order to cope with this difficulty, Halleux and Meyvaert proposed an intriguing and successful explanation: the Latin translator of the original recipe book, being not well versed in Greek, would have misunderstood the difficult and rare Greek term cheirokmēta (χɛιρόκμητα), ‘handmade, artificial (substances)’, and read, instead, cheiromaktron (χɛιρόμακτρον), a more common Greek term for ‘cloth, towel, napkin’. Various Latin–Greek glosses confirm that the term mappa could correspond to the Greek cheiromaktron.Footnote ⁷³ Moreover, according to the tenth-century lexicon Suda (ζ 168 Adler), Zosimus’ alchemical books circulated under the title of cheirokmēta, thus confirming the use of the term as book title.

Another explanation is, however, possible, especially if one considers the passages of Zosimus’ treatises discussed above, where the term encheiridion stands for the title of a foundational book of alchemy. The Greek term encheiridion, in fact, was not only used in reference to books in early Byzantine times. Next to ‘handbook’, the term could also mean ‘towel, cloth’, as clearly emerges from hagiographical literature.Footnote ⁷⁴ For instance, in the seventh-century Life of Saint Theodore of Sykeon (§77), the Holy Mary is said to have taken three pills out of her napkin (encheiridion) in order to heal the saint who fell ill after being poisoned;Footnote ⁷⁵ according to the Life of the Saint Andrew the Fool (seventh–tenth centuries CE), an angel took some seasoning out of a handkerchief (encheiridion) while cooking a soup for Epiphanios.Footnote ⁷⁶ The translator of the Greek alchemical recipe book at the basis of the Mappae clavicula, presumably a Christian scholar well educated in the sacred scriptures, was probably familiar with this meaning of encheiridion. Therefore he might have translated an original Greek title such as Kleidion encheiridiou (κλɛιδίον ἐγχɛιριδίου), ‘the little key to the (alchemical) handbook’, with the expression Mappae clavicula, where mappa would have been a literal translation of encheiridion in its meaning of ‘cloth, towel’. We can observe that the Pope Zacharias (741–52 CE) actually rendered the accusative mappulas with the Greek encheiridia in his translation of Gregory the Great's Dialogues (Book 2, Chapter 19).Footnote ⁷⁷ If this hypothesis is correct, the Mappae clavicula would represent the Latin translation of a Greek alchemical recipe book that circulated in late antiquity with a title including the term encheiridion.

Collecting and legitimizing alchemical recipes

The use of the term encheiridion to mark recipe books circulating in Graeco-Roman Egypt is confirmed by Zosimus’ twelve treatises preserved in Syriac translation. Moreover, scholars have observed that various recipes of the Mappae clavicula present striking similarities with some recipes included in the twelve Syriac books.Footnote ⁷⁸ For instance, the same technique to make silver blue like a sapphire is textualized in very similar forms in the Latin recipe book and in the first book of Zosimus:

Zosimus’ first book (Mm. 6.29, fol. 16v11–13)

Both recipes describe how to prepare a mixture that, when rubbed on silver, dyes it superficially. Zosimus’ text does not specify the metal to be treated, since the recipe is included in a section devoted to the dyeing of silver.

Only a close and thorough comparison between the two collections of recipes will fully elucidate their possible relations. At this stage, any attempt to identify the encheiridion mentioned by Zosimus with the Greek text behind the Mappae clavicula would be speculative and risky, since it could oversimplify a fluid and diversified tradition. Many recipes included in both Zosimus’ twelve treatises and the Mappae clavicula overlap with a wider set of alchemical compilations, in particular with the so-called Leiden and Stockholm papyri, two anonymous recipe books on papyrus codices written in third- or fourth-century Egypt.Footnote ⁸⁰ These two papyri, which include more than two hundred recipes on various topics (how to dye, soften or harden metals; how to produce silver- and gold-coloured alloys; how to make inks and fake precious stones; how to dye wool purple), have been variously linked to workshop practices. They were defined either as handbooks for ancient craftspeople (e.g. goldsmiths or dyers) or as copies of the workshop notes of an artisan. The lack of stains or signs of damage in the two codices has led some scholars to identify them with copies for a library. However, as recently argued, they might have been handled only by a supervisor or they could simply draw on earlier workshop copies.Footnote ⁸¹

The structure of these alchemical recipe books is quite flexible, and the number of recipes included can easily vary. This flexibility could certainly make it easy to update, expand or reduce a given collection by adding or leaving out a set of recipes.Footnote ⁸² On the other hand, each alchemical recipe book could be potentially incomplete and fail to provide an exhaustive summary of the most relevant procedures of the art. Probably in order to cope with this risk, Zosimus of Panopolis anchored the alchemical encheiridion he used in his treatises to the original revelation of alchemy: in this way, the alchemical handbook was presented as authoritative and complete, being part of the foundational teaching of the fallen angels, before it came to be dispersed and summarized.

The effort to go back to the original book of alchemy is evident in Zosimus’ treatises as well, since the alchemist seems to have marked them with the same titles given to the twenty-four tomes that composed the revealed book. Indeed, these tomes, as described by Zosimus in the passage quoted above, present striking similarities to the structure of his own alchemical writings. First of all, each of the original tomes was marked by a letter of the alphabet. Zosimus refers to his own books by using letters of the alphabet, for instance when he mentions his Book on the Letter Kappa and his Book on the Letter Omega.Footnote ⁸³ Moreover, the Byzantine alchemist Christianos quotes Zosimus’ Book on the Letter Sigma,Footnote ⁸⁴ while the tenth-century lexicon Suda (ζ 168 Adler) ascribes to him twenty-eight alchemical books arranged in alphabetical order. The reference to the alphabetical arrangement is usually interpreted as an indication of the use of letters as book titles.Footnote ⁸⁵

The Syriac tradition confirms these data. There again, many of Zosimus’ twelve treatises include a letter of the alphabet in their title.Footnote ⁸⁶ More importantly, some of these treatises are also marked by terms that correspond to the titles attributed by the alchemist to the twenty-four tomes revealed by the fallen angels. In particular, Zosimus’ Seventh Treatise is also entitled Signet (lit. ‘what is sealed’) or Seal (Mm. 6.29, fol. 45r), while the Ninth Treatise on the Letter Ṭet is also called ‘the key [qlido] of everything’ (Mm. 6.29, fol. 55r).Footnote ⁸⁷ This ninth treatise is mainly devoted to mercury and insists on both its volatility and its promptness in being ‘fixed’ (i.e. solidified) when mixed with other substances. Interestingly, the Byzantine alchemist Christianos also attributes a Book of the Keys (biblos kleidōn) to Zosimus while discussing the capacity of mercury to be attracted by other natures (i.e. natural bodies).Footnote ⁸⁸

In conclusion, Zosimus seems to construe his own alchemical treatises by mirroring the structure he attributed to the original twenty-four alchemical tomes that the fallen angels revealed to humankind. The encheiridion was one of these tomes whose authority and knowledge Zosimus tried to recover and re-encapsulate in his treatises. After all, the strong continuity between the books of the ancients and Zosimus’ own alchemical writings is stressed by the alchemist himself in a section devoted to the preparation of alchemical ‘waters’ (Mm. 6.29, fols. 64v15–19):Footnote ⁸⁹

In order to fully understand the procedures to be carried out, the ancient alchemist was expected to master a polyphonic textual tradition, which could not lose its connection to the original ‘revelation’ of the art. Alchemical encheiridia were certainly part of this revelation. However, rather than representing the summary of larger works, as was the case for many handbooks discussed above, these encheiridia became the sources of Zosimus’ larger, more comprehensive account of the alchemical art.

Concluding remarks

To conclude, we can observe that most ancient encheiridia share a didactic purpose and their use can be better understood in the context of Graeco-Roman and late antique schools. For instance, Hephaestion's and Domninus’ encheiridia are short, well-organized catalogues of basic notions, neatly textualized into concise definitions (along with relevant examples), which can be easily located in the booklets and memorized by students taking classes on mathematics or grammar.

The fallen angels take over from masters of grammar or philosophy in the Enochian myth that Zosimus reframed in his treatises: the revealed knowledge is condensed in a foundational book, which also includes an alchemical encheiridion. This original book represents the authoritative source of the purest and most reliable alchemical teaching that later alchemists were expected to carefully preserve and properly understand. Zosimus’ technical writings, along with other late antique recipe books (including, perhaps, the Greek text behind the Mappae clavicula), tapped into that authority. In a way, an alchemical recipe book is a list of discrete textual units that might be assimilated in its structure to the encheiridia pertaining to other areas of expertise. Each recipe is a ‘small unit whose meaning does not depend on adjacent units’,Footnote ⁹⁰ and it potentially encapsulates all the necessary instructions to carry out a single alchemical procedure. Likewise, each definition of metres in Hephaestion's Handbook, for instance, or each ethical maxim in Rufinus’ translation of the Sentences of Sextus, could be used individually by the readers of these books. However, the connection of each textual unit to its context, to what follows or precedes, can be very loose in collections of recipes, while it seems tighter in those encheiridia that aim at providing the basic elements of a given discipline.

The earliest extant definition of encheiridion goes back to Heliodorus (first century CE). In his Prolegomena to Hephaestion's handbook on metres, Longinus quotes the first lines of Heliodorus’ (lost) work on the same subject:

The same emphasis on capital points (kephalaia) emerges in Nicomachus’ preface to his Handbook on Harmonics. These writings served as primers, from which students of music or grammar could learn those basic notions that were further explained by their teachers in classrooms and in more comprehensive textbooks (or isagogic treatises). Likewise, Domninus’ and Arrian's handbooks were mainly addressed to students of mathematics and Stoic philosophy. Ancient encheiridia also collected ethical and religious precepts, key rules condensed in small booklets that their readers could carry along: thus they could always go back to these books as guides in their daily life. A certain tension between brevity and comprehensiveness emerges when the author of an echeiridion had to deal with a rich and complex tradition. In order to properly summarize the most authoritative astrological writings of earlier authors, Hephaestion of Thebes composed a three-book handbook: it actually functioned as a reference book in a way similar to an almost contemporary medical encyclopedia by which Hephaestion was perhaps influenced to a certain extent. Alchemical encheiridia, on the other hand, were situated at the origin of the tradition they were said to encapsulate: they represented foundational writings that any practitioner was expected to have always at hand, in order to gain direct access to the original teaching revealed by the mythical founders of the alchemical art.