History of Alchemy
History of AlchemyCHAPTER ICHAPTER II.CHAPTER III.CHAPTER IV.CHAPTER V.CHAPTER VI.CHAPTER VII.CHAPTER VIII.CHAPTER IX.CHAPTER X.CHAPTER XI.CHAPTER XII.CHAPTER XIII.CHAPTER XIV.FOOTNOTESCopyright
History of Alchemy
M. M. Pattison Muir
CHAPTER I
THE EXPLANATION OF MATERIAL CHANGES GIVEN BY THE
GREEK THINKERS.For thousands of years before men had any accurate and exact
knowledge of the changes of material things, they had thought about
these changes, regarded them as revelations of spiritual truths,
built on them theories of things in heaven and earth (and a good
many things in neither), and used them in manufactures, arts, and
handicrafts, especially in one very curious manufacture wherein not
the thousandth fragment of a grain of the finished article was ever
produced.The accurate and systematic study of the changes which
material things undergo is called chemistry; we may, perhaps,
describe alchemy as the superficial, and what may be called
subjective, examination of these changes, and the speculative
systems, and imaginary arts and manufactures, founded on that
examination.We are assured by many old writers that Adam was the first
alchemist, and we are told by one of the initiated that Adam was
created on the sixth day, being the 15th of March, of the first
year of the world; certainly alchemy had a long life, for chemistry
did not begin until about the middle of the 18th
century.No branch of science has had so long a period of incubation
as chemistry. There must be some extraordinary difficulty in the
way of disentangling the steps of those changes wherein substances
of one kind are produced from substances totally unlike them. To
inquire how those of acute intellects and much learning regarded
such occurrences in the times when man's outlook on the world was
very different from what it is now, ought to be interesting, and
the results of that inquiry must surely be
instructive.If the reader turns to a modern book on chemistry (for
instance,The Story of the Chemical
Elements, in this series), he will find, at
first, superficial descriptions of special instances of those
occurrences which are the subject of the chemist's study; he will
learn that only certain parts of such events are dealt with in
chemistry; more accurate descriptions will then be given of changes
which occur in nature, or can be produced by altering the ordinary
conditions, and the reader will be taught to see certain points of
likeness between these changes; he will be shown how to disentangle
chemical occurrences, to find their similarities and differences;
and, gradually, he will feel his way to general statements, which
are more or less rigorous and accurate expressions of what holds
good in a large number of chemical processes; finally, he will
discover that some generalisations have been made which are exact
and completely accurate descriptions applicable to every case of
chemical change.But if we turn to the writings of the alchemists, we are in a
different world. There is nothing even remotely resembling what one
finds in a modern book on chemistry.Here are a few quotations from alchemical writings1:"It is necessary to deprive matter of its qualities in order
to draw out its soul.... Copper is like a man; it has a soul and a
body ... the soul is the most subtile part ... that is to say, the
tinctorial spirit. The body is the ponderable, material,
terrestrial thing, endowed with a shadow.... After a series of
suitable treatments copper becomes without shadow and better than
gold.... The elements grow and are transmuted, because it is their
qualities, not their substances which are contrary." (Stephanus of
Alexandria, about 620 A.D.)"If we would elicit our Medecine from the precious metals, we
must destroy the particular metalic form, without impairing its
specific properties. The specific properties of the metal have
their abode in its spiritual part, which resides in homogeneous
water. Thus we must destroy the particular form of gold, and change
it into its generic homogeneous water, in which the spirit of gold
is preserved; this spirit afterwards restores the consistency of
its water, and brings forth a new form (after the necessary
putrefaction) a thousand times more perfect than the form of gold
which it lost by being reincrudated." (Philalethes, 17th
century.)"The bodily nature of things is a concealing outward
vesture." (Michael Sendivogius, 17th century.)"Nothing of true value is located in the body of a substance,
but in the virtue ... the less there is of body, the more in
proportion is the virtue." (Paracelsus, 16th century.)"There are four elements, and each has at its centre another
element which makes it what it is. These are the four pillars of
the world.... It is their contrary action which keeps up the
harmony and equilibrium of the mundane machinery." (Michael
Sendivogius.)"Nature cannot work till it has been supplied with a
material: the first matter is furnished by God, the second matter
by the sage." (Michael Sendivogius.)"When corruptible elements are united in a certain substance,
their strife must sooner or later bring about its decomposition,
which is, of course, followed by putrefaction; in putrefaction, the
impure is separated from the pure; and if the pure elements are
then once more joined together by the action of natural heat, a
much nobler and higher form of life is produced.... If the hidden
central fire, which during life was in a state of passivity, obtain
the mastery, it attracts to itself all the pure elements, which are
thus separated from the impure, and form the nucleus of a far purer
form of life." (Michael Sendivogius.)"Cause that which is above to be below; that which is visible
to be invisible; that which is palpable to become impalpable. Again
let that which is below become that which is above; let the
invisible become visible, and the impalpable become palpable. Here
you see the perfection of our Art, without any defect or
diminution." (Basil Valentine, 15th century.)"Think most diligently about this; often bear in mind,
observe and comprehend, that all minerals and metals together, in
the same time, and after the same fashion, and of one and the same
principal matter, are produced and generated. That matter is no
other than a mere vapour, which is extracted from the elementary
earth by the superior stars, or by a sidereal distillation of the
macrocosm; which sidereal hot infusion, with an airy sulphurous
property, descending upon inferiors, so acts and operates as that
there is implanted, spiritually and invisibly, a certain power and
virtue in those metals and minerals; which fume, moreover, resolves
in the earth into a certain water, wherefrom all metals are
thenceforth generated and ripened to their perfection, and thence
proceeds this or that metal or mineral, according as one of the
three principles acquires dominion, and they have much or little of
sulphur and salt, or an unequal mixture of these; whence some
metals are fixed—that is, constant or stable; and some are volatile
and easily changeable, as is seen in gold, silver, copper, iron,
tin, and lead." (Basil Valentine.)"To grasp the invisible elements, to attract them by their
material correspondences, to control, purify, and transform them by
the living power of the Spirit—this is true Alchemy."
(Paracelsus.)"Destruction perfects that which is good; for the good cannot
appear on account of that which conceals it.... Each one of the
visible metals is a concealment of the other six metals."
(Paracelsus.)These sayings read like sentences in a forgotten
tongue.Humboldt tells of a parrot which had lived with a tribe of
American Indians, and learnt scraps of their language; the tribe
totally disappeared; the parrot alone remained, and babbled words
in the language which no living human being could
understand.Are the words I have quoted unintelligible, like the parrot's
prating? Perhaps the language may be reconstructed; perhaps it may
be found to embody something worth a hearing. Success is most
likely to come by considering the growth of alchemy; by trying to
find the ideas which were expressed in the strange tongue; by
endeavouring to look at our surroundings as the alchemists looked
at theirs.Do what we will, we always, more or less, construct our own
universe. The history of science may be described as the history of
the attempts, and the failures, of men "to see things as they are."
"Nothing is harder," said the Latin poet Lucretius, "than to
separate manifest facts from doubtful, what straightway the mind
adds on of itself."Observations of the changes which are constantly happening in
the sky, and on the earth, must have prompted men long ago to ask
whether there are any limits to the changes of things around them.
And this question must have become more urgent as working in
metals, making colours and dyes, preparing new kinds of food and
drink, producing substances with smells and tastes unlike those of
familiar objects, and other pursuits like these, made men
acquainted with transformations which seemed to penetrate to the
very foundations of things.Can one thing be changed into any other thing; or, are there
classes of things within each of which change is possible, while
the passage from one class to another is not possible? Are all the
varied substances seen, tasted, handled, smelt, composed of a
limited number of essentially different things; or, is each
fundamentally different from every other substance? Such questions
as these must have pressed for answers long ago.Some of the Greek philosophers who lived four or five hundred
years before Christ formed a theory of the transformations of
matter, which is essentially the theory held by naturalists
to-day.These philosophers taught that to understand nature we must
get beneath the superficial qualities of things. "According to
convention," said Democritus (born 460 B.C.), "there are a sweet
and a bitter, a hot and a cold, and according to convention there
is colour. In truth there are atoms and a void." Those
investigators attempted to connect all the differences which are
observed between the qualities of things with differences of size,
shape, position, and movement of atoms. They said that all things
are formed by the coalescence of certain unchangeable,
indestructible, and impenetrable particles which they named atoms;
the total number of atoms is constant; not one of them can be
destroyed, nor can one be created; when a substance ceases to exist
and another is formed, the process is not a destruction of matter,
it is a re-arrangement of atoms.Only fragments of the writings of the founders of the atomic
theory have come to us. The views of these philosophers are
preserved, and doubtless amplified and modified, in a Latin
poem,Concerning the Nature of Things, written by Lucretius, who was born a century before the
beginning of our era. Let us consider the picture given in that
poem of the material universe, and the method whereby the picture
was produced.2All knowledge, said Lucretius, is based on "the aspect and
the law of nature." True knowledge can be obtained only by the use
of the senses; there is no other method. "From the senses first has
proceeded the knowledge of the true, and the senses cannot be
refuted. Shall reason, founded on false sense, be able to
contradict [the senses], wholly founded as it is on the senses? And
if they are not true, then all reason as well is rendered false."
The first principle in nature is asserted by Lucretius to be that
"Nothing is ever gotten out of nothing." "A thing never returns to
nothing, but all things after disruption go back to the first
bodies of matter." If there were not imperishable seeds of things,
atoms, "first-beginnings of solid singleness," then, Lucretius
urges, "infinite time gone by and lapse of days must have eaten up
all things that are of mortal body."The first-beginnings, or atoms, of things were thought of by
Lucretius as always moving; "there is no lowest point in the sum of
the universe" where they can rest; they meet, clash, rebound, or
sometimes join together into groups of atoms which move about as
wholes. Change, growth, decay, formation, disruption—these are the
marks of all things. "The war of first-beginnings waged from
eternity is carried on with dubious issue: now here, now there, the
life-bringing elements of things get the mastery, and are
o'ermastered in turn; with the funeral wail blends the cry which
babies raise when they enter the borders of light; and no night
ever followed day, nor morning night, that heard not, mingling with
the sickly infant's cries, the attendants' wailings on death and
black funeral."Lucretius pictured the atoms of things as like the things
perceived by the senses; he said that atoms of different kinds have
different shapes, but the number of shapes is finite, because there
is a limit to the number of different things we see, smell, taste,
and handle; he implies, although I do not think he definitely
asserts, that all atoms of one kind are identical in every
respect.We now know that many compounds exist which are formed by the
union of the same quantities by weight of the same elements, and,
nevertheless, differ in properties; modern chemistry explains this
fact by saying that the properties of a substance depend, not only
on the kind of atoms which compose the minute particles of a
compound, and the number of atoms of each kind, but also on the
mode of arrangement of the atoms.3The same doctrine was taught by
Lucretius, two thousand years ago. "It often makes a great
difference," he said, "with what things, and in what positions the
same first-beginnings are held in union, and what motions they
mutually impart and receive." For instance, certain atoms may be so
arranged at one time as to produce fire, and, at another time, the
arrangement of the same atoms may be such that the result is a
fir-tree. The differences between the colours of things are said by
Lucretius to be due to differences in the arrangements and motions
of atoms. As the colour of the sea when wind lashes it into foam is
different from the colour when the waters are at rest, so do the
colours of things change when the atoms whereof the things are
composed change from one arrangement to another, or from sluggish
movements to rapid and tumultuous motions.Lucretius pictured a solid substance as a vast number of
atoms squeezed closely together, a liquid as composed of not so
many atoms less tightly packed, and a gas as a comparatively small
number of atoms with considerable freedom of motion. Essentially
the same picture is presented by the molecular theory of
to-day.To meet the objection that atoms are invisible, and therefore
cannot exist, Lucretius enumerates many things we cannot see
although we know they exist. No one doubts the existence of winds,
heat, cold and smells; yet no one has seen the wind, or heat, or
cold, or a smell. Clothes become moist when hung near the sea, and
dry when spread in the sunshine; but no one has seen the moisture
entering or leaving the clothes. A pavement trodden by many feet is
worn away; but the minute particles are removed without our eyes
being able to see them.Another objector urges—"You say the atoms are always moving,
yet the things we look at, which you assert to be vast numbers of
moving atoms, are often motionless." Him Lucretius answers by an
analogy. "And herein you need not wonder at this, that though the
first-beginnings of things are all in motion, yet the sum is seen
to rest in supreme repose, unless when a thing exhibits motions
with its individual body. For all the nature of first things lies
far away from our senses, beneath their ken; and, therefore, since
they are themselves beyond what you can see, they must withdraw
from sight their motion as well; and the more so, that the things
which we can see do yet often conceal their motions when a great
distance off. Thus, often, the woolly flocks as they crop the glad
pastures on a hill, creep on whither the grass, jewelled with fresh
dew, summons or invites each, and the lambs, fed to the full,
gambol and playfully butt; all which objects appear to us from a
distance to be blended together, and to rest like a white spot on a
green hill. Again, when mighty legions fill with their movements
all parts of the plains, waging the mimicry of war, the glitter
lifts itself up to the sky, and the whole earth round gleams with
brass, and beneath a noise is raised by the mighty tramplings of
men, and the mountains, stricken by the shouting, echo the voices
to the stars of heaven, and horsemen fly about, and suddenly
wheeling, scour across the middle of the plains, shaking them with
the vehemence of their charge. And yet there is some spot on the
high hills, seen from which they appear to stand still and to rest
on the plains as a bright spot."The atomic theory of the Greek thinkers was constructed by
reasoning on natural phenomena. Lucretius constantly appeals to
observed facts for confirmation of his theoretical teachings, or
refutation of opinions he thought erroneous. Besides giving a
general mental presentation of the material universe, the theory
was applied to many specific transmutations; but minute
descriptions of what are now called chemical changes could not be
given in terms of the theory, because no searching examination of
so much as one such change had been made, nor, I think, one may
say, could be made under the conditions of Greek life. More than
two thousand years passed before investigators began to make
accurate measurements of the quantities of the substances which
take part in those changes wherein certain things seem to be
destroyed and other totally different things to be produced; until
accurate knowledge had been obtained of the quantities of the
definite substances which interact in the transformations of
matter, the atomic theory could not do more than draw the outlines
of a picture of material changes.A scientific theory has been described as "the likening of
our imaginings to what we actually observe." So long as we observe
only in the rough, only in a broad and general way, our imaginings
must also be rough, broad, and general. It was the great glory of
the Greek thinkers about natural events that their observations
were accurate, on the whole, and as far as they went, and the
theory they formed was based on no trivial or accidental features
of the facts, but on what has proved to be the very essence of the
phenomena they sought to bring into one point of view; for all the
advances made in our own times in clear knowledge of the
transformations of matter have been made by using, as a guide to
experimental inquiries, the conception that the differences between
the qualities of substances are connected with differences in the
weights and movements of minute particles; and this was the central
idea of the atomic theory of the Greek philosophers.The atomic theory was used by the great physicists of the
later Renaissance, by Galileo, Gassendi, Newton and others. Our own
countryman, John Dalton, while trying (in the early years of the
19th century) to form a mental presentation of the atmosphere in
terms of the theory of atoms, rediscovered the possibility of
differences between the sizes of atoms, applied this idea to the
facts concerning the quantitative compositions of compounds which
had been established by others, developed a method for determining
the relative weights of atoms of different kinds, and started
chemistry on the course which it has followed so
successfully.Instead of blaming the Greek philosophers for lack of
quantitatively accurate experimental inquiry, we should rather be
full of admiring wonder at the extraordinary acuteness of their
mental vision, and the soundness of their scientific
spirit.The ancient atomists distinguished the essential properties
of things from their accidental features. The former cannot be
removed, Lucretius said, without "utter destruction accompanying
the severance"; the latter may be altered "while the nature of the
thing remains unharmed." As examples of essential properties,
Lucretius mentions "the weight of a stone, the heat of fire, the
fluidity of water." Such things as liberty, war, slavery, riches,
poverty, and the like, were accounted accidents. Time also was said
to be an accident: it "exists not by itself; but simply from the
things which happen, the sense apprehends what has been done in
time past, as well as what is present, and what is to follow
after."As our story proceeds, we shall see that the chemists of the
middle ages, the alchemists, founded their theory of material
changes on the difference between a supposed essential substratum
of things, and their qualities which could be taken off, they said,
and put on, as clothes are removed and replaced.How different from the clear, harmonious, orderly, Greek
scheme, is any picture we can form, from such quotations as I have
given from their writings, of the alchemists' conception of the
world. The Greeks likened their imaginings of nature to the natural
facts they observed; the alchemists created an imaginary world
after their own likeness.While Christianity was superseding the old religions, and the
theological system of the Christian Church was replacing the
cosmogonies of the heathen, the contrast between the power of evil
and the power of good was more fully realised than in the days of
the Greeks; a sharper division was drawn between this world and
another world, and that other world was divided into two
irreconcilable and absolutely opposite parts. Man came to be
regarded as the centre of a tremendous and never-ceasing battle,
urged between the powers of good and the powers of evil. The sights
and sounds of nature were regarded as the vestments, or the voices,
of the unseen combatants. Life was at once very real and the mere
shadow of a dream. The conditions were favourable to the growth of
magic; for man was regarded as the measure of the universe, the
central figure in an awful tragedy.Magic is an attempt, by thinking and speculating about what
we consider must be the order of nature, to discover some means of
penetrating into the secret life of natural things, of realising
the hidden powers and virtues of things, grasping the concealed
thread of unity which is supposed to run through all phenomena
however seemingly diverse, entering into sympathy with the supposed
inner oneness of life, death, the present, past, and future. Magic
grows, and gathers strength, when men are sure their theory of the
universe must be the one true theory, and they see only through the
glasses which their theory supplies. "He who knows himself
thoroughly knows God and all the mysteries of His nature," says a
modern writer on magic. That saying expresses the fundamental
hypothesis, and the method, of all systems of magic and mysticism.
Of such systems, alchemy was one.
CHAPTER II.
A SKETCH OF ALCHEMICAL THEORY.The system which began to be calledalchemyin the 6th and 7th centuries of
our era had no special name before that time, but was known
asthe sacred art, the divine science, the occult
science, the art of Hermes.A commentator on Aristotle, writing in the 4th century A.D.,
calls certain instruments used for fusion and calcination "chuika organa," that is, instruments
for melting and pouring. Hence, probably, came the adjectivechyicorchymic, and, at a somewhat later time,
the wordchemiaas the name of
that art which deals with calcinations, fusions, meltings, and the
like. The writer of a treatise on astrology, in the 5th century,
speaking of the influences of the stars on the dispositions of man,
says: "If a man is born under Mercury he will give himself to
astronomy; if Mars, he will follow the profession of arms; if
Saturn, he will devote himself to the science of alchemy (Scientia alchemiae)." The wordalchemiawhich appears in this
treatise, was formed by prefixing the Arabical(meaningthe) tochemia, a word, as we have seen, of
Greek origin.It is the growth, development, and transformation into
chemistry, of thisalchemiawhich we have to consider.Alchemy, that is,theart
of melting, pouring, and transforming, must necessarily pay much
attention to working with crucibles, furnaces, alembics, and other
vessels wherein things are fused, distilled, calcined, and
dissolved. The old drawings of alchemical operations show us men
busy calcining, cohobating, distilling, dissolving, digesting, and
performing other processes of like character to these.The alchemists could not be accused of laziness or aversion
to work in their laboratories. Paracelsus (16th century) says of
them: "They are not given to idleness, nor go in a proud habit, or
plush and velvet garments, often showing their rings on their
fingers, or wearing swords with silver hilts by their sides, or
fine and gay gloves on their hands; but diligently follow their
labours, sweating whole days and nights by their furnaces. They do
not spend their time abroad for recreation, but take delight in
their laboratories. They put their fingers among coals, into clay
and filth, not into gold rings. They are sooty and black, like
smiths and miners, and do not pride themselves upon clean and
beautiful faces."In these respects the chemist of to-day faithfully follows
the practice of the alchemists who were his predecessors. You can
nose a chemist in a crowd by the smell of the laboratory which
hangs about him; you can pick him out by the stains on his hands
and clothes. He also "takes delight in his laboratory"; he does not
always "pride himself on a clean and beautiful face"; he "sweats
whole days and nights by his furnace."Why does the chemist toil so eagerly? Why did the alchemists
so untiringly pursue their quest? I think it is not unfair to say:
the chemist experiments in order that he "may liken his imaginings
to the facts which he observes"; the alchemist toiled that he might
liken the facts which he observed to his imaginings. The difference
may be put in another way by saying: the chemist's object is to
discover "how changes happen in combinations of the unchanging";
the alchemist's endeavour was to prove the truth of his fundamental
assertion, "that every substance contains undeveloped resources and
potentialities, and can be brought outward and forward into
perfection."Looking around him, and observing the changes of things, the
alchemist was deeply impressed by the growth and modification of
plants and animals; he argued that minerals and metals also grow,
change, develop. He said in effect: "Nature is one, there must be
unity in all the diversity I see. When a grain of corn falls into
the earth it dies, but this dying is the first step towards a new
life; the dead seed is changed into the living plant. So it must be
with all other things in nature: the mineral, or the metal, seems
dead when it is buried in the earth, but, in reality, it is
growing, changing, and becoming more perfect." The perfection of
the seed is the plant. What is the perfection of the common metals?
"Evidently," the alchemist replied, "the perfect metal is gold; the
common metals are trying to become gold." "Gold is the intention of
Nature in regard to all metals," said an alchemical writer. Plants
are preserved by the preservation of their seed. "In like manner,"
the alchemist's argument proceeded, "there must be a seed in metals
which is their essence; if I can separate the seed and bring it
under the proper conditions, I can cause it to grow into the
perfect metal." "Animal life, and human life also," we may suppose
the alchemist saying, "are continued by the same method as that
whereby the life of plants is continued; all life springs from
seed; the seed is fructified by the union of the male and the
female; in metals also there must be the two characters; the union
of these is needed for the production of new metals; the conjoining
of metals must go before the birth of the perfect
metal."