CHAPTER 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.
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.3
The 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 called
alchemy in the 6th
and 7th centuries of our era had no special name before that time,
but was known as the
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
adjective chyic
or chymic,
and, at a somewhat later time, the word
chemia as 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 word alchemia
which appears in this treatise, was formed by prefixing the
Arabic
al (meaning
the) to
chemia, a word, as
we have seen, of Greek origin.It
is the growth, development, and transformation into chemistry, of
this alchemia
which we have to consider.Alchemy,
that is, the
art 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."