The enigmatic polymath who had once been the toast of the court of Queen Elizabeth I died in poverty.
Author of the article:Joe Schwarcz • Special to the Montreal Gazette
Publishing date:Jul 16, 2021 •
Amazing staging! Trygaeus climbs onto a giant mechanical beetle and flies up to the palace of the gods. That scene from Aristophanes’s play Peace would be spectacular on the Broadway stage today, but what is truly amazing, is that it was orchestrated in 1547 at Trinity College, Cambridge. The brains behind the spectacle was John Dee, a young faculty member who instantly developed a reputation as a sorcerer because the audience could not believe that such a spectacular effect could be produced by normal means
Dee would go on to forge a career as mathematician, astronomer, navigational expert, cartographer, book collector and alchemist. He would certainly qualify as a scientist if the description ended there. But it doesn’t. While the Cambridge beetle had nothing to do with sorcery, Dee later would go on to live up to the reputation it had fostered by dabbling in astrology, exploring contacts with the spirit world and engaging in fortune-telling, a curious melange of science and the occult.
In 1558, Dee cemented his status as a seer by advising young Princess Elizabeth not to despair, because “as the gods have indicated to me, you shall become queen in another four months.” Indeed, exactly four months later, Mary Tudor died, allowing Elizabeth to ascend to the throne. Out of gratitude, the queen appointed Dee as her personal astrologer and advisor.
Before long, John Dee proved to be so useful that he was then given the task of gathering intelligence about foreign rulers and reporting directly to the queen. A secret agent as it were! These reports were not signed with his name, but rather with a symbol of two circles flanked with a horizontal and a vertical line that can be interpreted as the number seven. Supposedly the circles represent eyes, meaning the report was only for Her Majesty’s eyes. The seven was there because it was the alchemists’ lucky number. And there we have the first secret agent, code name 007! Is this where Ian Fleming got the idea for 007? Was John Dee the inspiration for James Bond? We will never know because Fleming is no longer with us. An alternate theory is that Fleming’s research into spy activities revealed that one of the great British successes during the First World War was the cracking of a German code that the British referred to as 0070. The author just shortened this to 007. I prefer the association with Dee, because he was into chemistry.
This is documented in a famous 19th-century painting by Henry Gillard Glindoni depicting Queen Elizabeth and her courtiers watching Dee performing a chemical experiment. “The Queen’s conjurer” is clearly seen pouring some substance from a vial into a flaming brazier. Looks like a demonstration we commonly carry out in chemistry lectures, sprinkling a little lycopodium powder into a flame. Dee documents other chemical experiments in his writings, including the making of silver chloride. Although not completely clear, it seems he reacted silver with nitric acid to form silver nitrate, which then yields silver chloride on reaction with salt, sodium chloride.
Dee’s interest in chemical matters is further demonstrated by his association with the infamous occultist, self-declared spirit medium and alchemist Edward Kelley. Having once been convicted of forgery, Kelley had had his ears cropped as punishment, and we see him in Glindoni’s painting with a hat that covers the disfigurement. Upon hearing of Dee’s efforts to foretell the future by gazing into a mirror, Kelley had sought Dee out in 1582, offering his help as a medium. Indeed, Dee was into “scrying” with a mirror made of obsidian, a volcanic rock. Kelley claimed that he had the ability to contact angels who would help him interpret the visions Dee saw in the mirror.
The mirror that John Dee is supposed to have used is on display in the British Museum, along with his crystal ball. Such obsidian mirrors were introduced into Europe by Spanish explorers who had found Indigenous people in Mexico using such mirrors for divination. The required shine was imparted to the rock by rubbing with, get this, bat droppings! Since bats only digest insects they eat partially, residues of the bugs’ skeletons show up in the feces, making this a functional abrasive to polish the volcanic rock. Also on display in the British Museum is a clay tablet with all sorts of occult symbols that Kelley used in his communications with angels. He would interpret the messages for Dee, including the famous one about the need to share all earthly possessions, including wives. And yes, that meant Dee and Kelley came to engage in wife swapping! One of Dee’s children may actually have been fathered by Kelley.
Dee and Kelley travelled through Europe with Dee telling fortunes and demonstrating scientific phenomena, while Kelley attempted to mutate metals into gold with a magic powder he claimed to have discovered. In Bohemia, he was even imprisoned for a while after he failed to produce the metal as promised. Dee eventually fell out of favour when Elizabeth was succeeded by James I, who abhorred divination and anything to do with the occult. The enigmatic polymath who had once been the toast of the royal court died in poverty.
A recent X-ray analysis of the Glindoni painting shows that originally Dee was surrounded by a circle of skulls, which the painter may have intended to portray that while Dee pursued science, he also had a foot in the occult. Perhaps the patron who commissioned the painting did not like this association and asked the artist to modify the work. He painted over the skulls, and, perhaps piqued, retained the occult connection by replacing a globe in the original with Kelley. I just wish he would have sneaked the 007 in there somewhere.
joe.schwarcz@mcgill.ca
Joe Schwarcz is director of McGill University’s Office for Science & Society (mcgill.ca/oss). He hosts The Dr. Joe Show on CJAD Radio 800 AM every Sunday from 3 to 4 p.m.