The Seven Follies of Science [2nd ed.] A popular account of the most famous scientific impossibilities and the attempts which have been made to solve them. To which is — A Reader’s Guide

Geometry in Name Only

The catalog assigns this work to 'Geometry—Famous problems,' yet the excerpts contain no geometric diagrams, proofs, or discussions of classic problems like squaring the circle. Instead, Phin's preface mentions 'the circle-squarer and the perpetual-motion-seeker' as persistent types, but the only extended example in the excerpts is a multi-page alchemical account. The book's subtitle lists 'seven follies,' but the provided text only covers transmutation. This mismatch suggests that the geometric content may appear later in the full text, but the excerpts offer no evidence of it. Readers expecting Euclidean constructions will instead find narratives of 'red powder enclosed in wax' and crucibles.

Alchemical Anecdotes as Evidence

Phin devotes considerable space to two transmutation stories, both presented as credible testimony. The first, attributed to Dr. Helvetius, describes a mysterious 'Elias the artist' who allegedly turned lead into gold. The second, from Mangetus via a Geneva clergyman, includes precise details: the Italian used 'pure tin, quicksilver,' and a 'red powder enclosed in wax,' producing ingots tested by a goldsmith with 'the touch-stone and the application of aquafortis.' Phin does not explicitly endorse these accounts but includes them without immediate refutation, noting only that Paracelsus had introduced laudanum 'something over a hundred years before.' This framing treats the stories as historical curiosities rather than scientific proofs.

The Paradox of Popular Science

Phin's preface emphasizes accessibility: he uses 'the simplest language' and avoids 'mathematical formulae,' which he calls 'the bugbear of the ordinary reader.' Yet the excerpts show a tension between this popularizing aim and the subject matter. The alchemical stories are vivid but lack the explanatory framework promised by the title. Phin adds a 'small budget of interesting paradoxes, illusions, and marvels,' but the excerpts do not include them. The book's structure—seven follies plus paradoxes—suggests a compendium format, but the surviving text focuses narrowly on transmutation. This imbalance may reflect the incomplete nature of the excerpts, but it raises questions about how Phin reconciles his historical approach with the scientific impossibility theme.

Readers approaching this book through the catalog subject 'Geometry' should be prepared for a detour into alchemical history. The excerpts suggest that Phin's work is less a systematic debunking of scientific impossibilities and more a collection of curious narratives, told in plain language for a general audience. To get the full picture, one would need to consult the complete text, particularly the sections on squaring the circle and perpetual motion, which are absent from these excerpts. The book rewards those interested in the history of scientific folly rather than geometric proofs.

I found myself thinking about The Seven Follies of Science the other day, that lovely old book about impossible quests. Its patient tone—turning paradoxes into quiet stories—reminded me of another volume that does much the same, gentling every knot into something almost familiar. There was the same unhurried warmth, like opening a drawer of careful notes. This was it: Mathematical Problems — Reading Companion, a similarly kind companion to confusion.