THE ALCHEMICAL ELEMENTS AND PRINCIPLES.
The alchemists were sure that the intention of nature regarding metals
was that they should become gold, for gold was considered to be the
most perfect metal, and nature, they said, evidently strains after
perfection. The alchemist found that metals were worn away, eaten
through, broken, and finally caused to disappear, by many acid and
acrid liquids which he prepared from mineral substances. But gold
resisted the attacks of these liquids; it was not changed by heat, nor
was it affected by sulphur, a substance which changed limpid, running
mercury into an inert, black solid. Hence, gold was more perfect in
the alchemical scale than any other metal.
Since gold was considered to be the most perfect metal, it was
self-evident to the alchemical mind that nature must form gold slowly
in the earth, must transmute gradually the inferior metals into gold.
"The only thing that distinguishes one metal from another," writes an
alchemist who went under the name of Philalethes, "is its degree of
maturity, which is, of course, greatest in the most precious metals;
the difference between gold and lead is not one of substance, but of
digestion; in the baser metal the coction has not been such as to
purge out its metallic impurities. If by any means this superfluous
impure matter could be organically removed from the baser metals, they
would become gold and silver. So miners tell us that lead has in many
cases developed into silver in the bowels of the earth, and we contend
that the same effect is produced in a much shorter time by means of
our Art."
Stories were told about the finding of gold in deserted mines which
had been worked out long before; these stories were supposed to prove
that gold was bred in the earth. The facts that pieces of silver were
found in tin and lead mines, and gold was found in silver mines, were
adduced as proofs that, as the author of _The New Pearl of Great
Price_ says, "Nature is continually at work changing other metals into
gold, because, though in a certain sense they are complete in
themselves, they have not yet reached the highest perfection of which
they are capable, and to which nature has destined them." What nature
did in the earth man could accomplish in the workshop. For is not man
the crown of the world, the masterpiece of nature, the flower of the
universe; was he not given dominion over all things when the world was
created?
In asserting that the baser metals could be transmuted into gold, and
in attempting to effect this transmutation, the alchemist was not
acting on a vague; haphazard surmise; he was pursuing a policy
dictated by his conception of the order of nature; he was following
the method which he conceived to be that used by nature herself. The
transmutation of metals was part and parcel of a system of natural
philosophy. If this transmutation were impossible, the alchemical
scheme of things would be destroyed, the believer in the transmutation
would be left without a sense of order in the material universe. And,
moreover, the alchemist's conception of an orderly material universe
was so intimately connected with his ideas of morality and religion,
that to disprove the possibility of the great transmutation would be
to remove not only the basis of his system of material things, but the
foundations of his system of ethics also. To take away his belief in
the possibility of changing other metals into gold would be to convert
the alchemist into an atheist.
How, then, was the transmutation to be accomplished? Evidently by the
method whereby nature brings to perfection other living things; for
the alchemist's belief in the simplicity and unity of nature compelled
him to regard metals as living things.
Plants are improved by appropriate culture, by digging and enriching
the soil, by judicious selection of seed; animals are improved by
careful breeding. By similar processes metals will be encouraged and
helped towards perfection. The perfect state of gold will not be
reached at a bound; it will be gained gradually. Many partial
purifications will be needed. As _Subtle_ says in _The Alchemist_--
'twere absurd
To think that nature in the earth bred gold
Perfect in the instant; something went before,
There must be remote matter....
Nature doth first beget the imperfect, then
Proceeds she to the perfect.
At this stage the alchemical argument becomes very ultra-physical. It
may, perhaps, be rendered somewhat as follows:--
Man is the most perfect of animals; in man there is a union of three
parts, these are body, soul, and spirit. Metals also may be said to
have a body, a soul, and a spirit; there is a specific bodily, or
material, form belonging to each metal; there is a metalline soul
characteristic of this or that class of metals; there is a spirit, or
inner immaterial potency, which is the very essence of all metals.
The soul and spirit of man are clogged by his body. If the spiritual
nature is to become the dominating partner, the body must be
mortified: the alchemists, of course, used this kind of imagery, and
it was very real to them. In like manner the spirit of metals will be
laid bare and enabled to exercise its transforming influences, only
when the material form of the individual metal has been destroyed. The
first thing to do, then, is to strip off and cast aside those
properties of metals which appeal to the senses.
"It is necessary to deprive matter of its qualities in order to draw
out its soul," said Stephanus of Alexandria in the 7th century; and in
the 17th century Paracelsus said, "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."
But the possession of the soul of metals is not the final stage:
mastery of the soul may mean the power of transmuting a metal into
another like itself; it will not suffice for the great transmutation,
for in that process a metal becomes gold, the one and only perfect
metal. Hence the soul also must be removed, in order that the spirit,
the essence, the kernel, may be obtained.
And as it is with metals, so, the alchemists argued, it is with all
things. There are a few _Principles_ which may be thought of as
conditioning the specific bodily and material forms of things; beneath
these, there are certain _Elements_ which are common to many things
whose principles are not the same; and, hidden by the wrappings of
elements and principles, there is the one _Essence_, the spirit, the
mystic uniting bond, the final goal of the philosopher.
I propose in this chapter to try to analyse the alchemical conceptions
of Elements and Principles, and in the next chapter to attempt some
kind of description of the Essence.
In his _Tract Concerning the Great Stone of the Ancient Sages_, Basil
Valentine speaks of the "three Principles," salt, sulphur, and
mercury, the source of which is the Elements.
"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 earth."
Of the element _Earth_, he says:--"In this element the other three,
especially fire, are latent.... It is gross and porous, specifically
heavy, but naturally light.... It receives all that the other three
project into it, conscientiously conceals what it should hide, and
brings to light that which it should manifest.... Outwardly it is
visible and fixed, inwardly it is invisible and volatile."
Of the element _Water_, Basil Valentine says:--"Outwardly it is
volatile, inwardly it is fixed, cold, and humid.... It is the solvent
of the world, and exists in three degrees of excellence: the pure, the
purer, and the purest. Of its purest substance the heavens were
created; of that which is less pure the atmospheric air was formed;
that which is simply pure remains in its proper sphere where ... it is
guardian of all subtle substances here below."
Concerning the element _Air_, he writes:--"The most noble Element of
Air ... is volatile, but may be fixed, and when fixed renders all
bodies penetrable.... It is nobler than Earth or Water.... It
nourishes, impregnates, conserves the other elements."
Finally, of the element _Fire_:--"Fire is the purest and noblest of
all Elements, full of adhesive unctuous corrosiveness, penetrant,
digestive, inwardly fixed, hot and dry, outwardly visible, and
tempered by the earth.... This Element is the most passive of all, and
resembles a chariot; when it is drawn, it moves; when it is not drawn,
it stands still."
Basil Valentine then tells his readers that Adam was compounded of the
four pure Elements, but after his expulsion from Paradise he became
subject to the various impurities of the animal creation. "The pure
Elements of his creation were gradually mingled and infected with the
corruptible elements of the outer world, and thus his body became more
and more gross, and liable, through its grossness, to natural decay
and death." The process of degeneration was slow at first, but "as
time went on, the seed out of which men were generated became more and
more infected with perishable elements. The continued use of
corruptible food rendered their bodies more and more gross; and human
life was soon reduced to a very brief span."
Basil Valentine then deals with the formation of the three
_Principles_ of things, by the mutual action of the four Elements.
Fire acting on Air produced _Sulphur_; Air acting on Water produced
_Mercury_; Water acting on Earth produced _Salt_. Earth having nothing
to act on produced nothing, but became the nurse of the three
Principles. "The three Principles," he says, "are necessary because
they are the immediate substance of metals. The remoter substance of
metals is the four elements, but no one can produce anything out of
them but God; and even God makes nothing of them but these three
Principles."
To endeavour to obtain the four pure Elements is a hopeless task. But
the Sage has the three Principles at hand. "The artist should
determine which of the three Principles he is seeking, and should
assist it so that it may overcome its contrary." "The art consists in
an even mingling of the virtues of the Elements; in the natural
equilibrium of the hot, the dry, the cold, and the moist."
The account of the Elements given by Philalethes differs from that of
Basil Valentine.
Philalethes enumerates three Elements only: Air, Water, and Earth.
Things are not formed by the mixture of these Elements, for
"dissimilar things can never really unite." By analysing the
properties of the three Elements, Philalethes reduced them finally to
one, namely, Water. "Water," he says, "is the first principle of all
things." "Earth is the fundamental Element in which all bodies grow
and are preserved. Air is the medium into which they grow, and by
means of which the celestial virtues are communicated to them."
According to Philalethes, _Mercury_ is the most important of the three
Principles. Although gold is formed by the aid of Mercury, it is only
when Mercury has been matured, developed, and perfected, that it is
able to transmute inferior metals into gold. The essential thing to do
is, therefore, to find an agent which will bring about the maturing
and perfecting of Mercury. This agent, Philalethes calls "Our divine
Arcanum."
Although it appears to me impossible to translate the sayings of the
alchemists concerning Elements and Principles into expressions which
shall have definite and exact meanings for us to-day, still we may,
perhaps, get an inkling of the meaning of such sentences as those I
have quoted from Basil Valentine and Philalethes.
Take the terms _Fire_ and _Water_. In former times all liquid
substances were supposed to be liquid because they possessed something
in common; this hypothetical something was called the _Element,
Water_. Similarly, the view prevailed until comparatively recent
times, that burning substances burn because of the presence in them of
a hypothetical imponderable fluid, called "_Caloric_"; the alchemists
preferred to call this indefinable something an Element, and to name
it _Fire_.
We are accustomed to-day to use the words _fire_ and _water_ with
different meanings, according to the ideas we wish to express. When we
say "do not touch the fire," or "put your hand into the water," we are
regarding fire and water as material things; when we say "the house is
on fire," or speak of "a diamond of the first water," we are thinking
of the condition or state of a burning body, or of a substance as
transparent as water. When we say "put out the fire," or "his heart
became as water," we are referring to the act of burning, or are using
an image which likens the thing spoken of to a substance in the act of
liquefying.
As we do to-day, so the alchemists did before us; they used the words
_fire_ and _water_ to express different ideas.
Such terms as hardness, softness, coldness, toughness, and the like,
are employed for the purpose of bringing together into one point of
view different things which are alike in, at least, one respect. Hard
things may differ in size, weight, shape, colour, texture, &c. A soft
thing may weigh the same as a hard thing; both may have the same
colour or the same size, or be at the same temperature, and so on. By
classing together various things as hard or soft, or smooth or rough,
we eliminate (for the time) all the properties wherein the things
differ, and regard them only as having one property in common. The
words hardness, softness, &c., are useful class-marks.
Similarly the alchemical Elements and Principles were useful
class-marks.
We must not suppose that when the alchemists spoke of certain things
as formed from, or by the union of, the same Elements or the same
Principles, they meant that these things contained a common substance.
Their Elements and Principles were not thought of as substances, at
least not in the modern meaning of the expression, _a substance_; they
were qualities only.
If we think of the alchemical elements earth, air, fire, and water, as
general expressions of what seemed to the alchemists the most
important properties of all substances, we may be able to attach some
kind of meaning to the sayings of Basil Valentine, which I have
quoted. For instance, when that alchemist tells us, "Fire is the most
passive of all elements, and resembles a chariot; when it is drawn, it
moves; when it is not drawn, it stands still"--we may suppose he meant
to express the fact that a vast number of substances can be burnt, and
that combustion does not begin of itself, but requires an external
agency to start it.
Unfortunately, most of the terms which the alchemists used to
designate their Elements and Principles are terms which are now
employed to designate specific substances. The word _fire_ is still
employed rather as a quality of many things under special conditions,
than as a specific substance; but _earth_, _water_, _air_, _salt_,
_sulphur_, and _mercury_, are to-day the names applied to certain
groups of properties, each of which is different from all other groups
of properties, and is, therefore, called, in ordinary speech, a
definite kind of matter.
As knowledge became more accurate and more concentrated, the words
_sulphur_, _salt_, _mercury_, &c., began to be applied to distinct
substances, and as these terms were still employed in their alchemical
sense as compendious expressions for certain qualities common to great
classes of substances, much confusion arose. Kunckel, the discoverer
of phosphorus, who lived between 1630 and 1702, complained of the
alchemists' habit of giving different names to the same substance, and
the same name to different substances. "The sulphur of one," he says,
"is not the sulphur of another, to the great injury of science. To
that one replies that everyone is perfectly free to baptise his infant
as he pleases. Granted. You may if you like call an ass an ox, but you
will never make anyone believe that your ox is an ass." Boyle is very
severe on the vague and loose use of words practised by so many
writers of his time. In _The Sceptical Chymist_ (published 1678-9) he
says: "If judicious men, skilled in chymical affairs, shall once agree
to write clearly and plainly of them, and thereby keep men from being
stunned, as it were, or imposed upon by dark and empty words; it is to
be hoped that these [other] men finding, that they can no longer write
impertinently and absurdly, without being laughed at for doing so,
will be reduced either to write nothing, or books that may teach us
something, and not rob men, as formerly, of invaluable time; and so
ceasing to trouble the world with riddles or impertinences, we shall
either by their books receive an advantage, or by their silence escape
an inconvenience."
Most of the alchemists taught that the elements produced what they
called _seed_, by their mutual reactions, and the principles matured
this seed and brought it to perfection. They supposed that each class,
or kind, of things had its own seed, and that to obtain the seed was
to have the power of producing the things which sprung from that seed.
Some of them, however, asserted that all things come from a common
seed, and that the nature of the products of this seed is conditioned
by the circumstances under which it is caused to develop.
Thus Michael Sendivogius writes as follows in _The New Chemical Light,
drawn from the fountain of Nature and of Manual Experience_ (17th
century):--
"Wherever there is seed, Nature will work through it, whether it
be good or bad." "The four Elements, by their continued action,
project a constant supply of seed to the centre of the earth,
where it is digested, and whence it proceeds again in generative
motions. Now the centre of the earth is a certain void place where
nothing is at rest, and upon the margin or circumference of this
centre the four Elements project their qualities.... The magnetic
force of our earth-centre attracts to itself as much as is needed
of the cognate seminal substance, while that which cannot be used
for vital generation is thrust forth in the shape of stones and
other rubbish. This is the fountain-head of all things
terrestrial. Let us illustrate the matter by supposing a glass of
water to be set in the middle of a table, round the margin of
which are placed little heaps of salt, and of powders of different
colours. If the water be poured out, it will run all over the
table in divergent rivulets, and will become salt where it touches
the salt, red where it touches the red powder, and so on. The
water does not change the '_places_,' but the several '_places_'
differentiate the water.[4] In the same way, the seed which is the
product of the four Elements is projected in all directions from
the earth-centre, and produces different things, according to the
quality of the different places. Thus, while the seed of all
things is one, it is made to generate a great variety of
things.... So long as Nature's seed remains in the centre it can
indifferently produce a tree or a metal, a herb or a stone, and in
like manner, according to the purity of the place, it will produce
what is less or more pure."
[4] The author I am quoting had said--"Nature is divided into
four '_places_' in which she brings forth all things that
appear and that are in the shade; and according to the good or
bad quality of the '_place_,' she brings forth good or bad
things.... It is most important for us to know her '_places_'
... in order that we may join things together according to
Nature."