AN OVERVIEW Lance Storm (Investigator 65, 1999
March)
Prologue The alchemical
tradition,
incorporating hermetic
philosophy and gnosticism, extends chronologically, from pre-Christian
times right up to the modem era, and geographically, throughout Europe,
Arabic countries (Egypt, Iran, etc.), and even as far as India and
China.
The practitioners of the spagyric art/science (from Greek spaein
= to rend, tear apart, and ageirein = to bring together)
claimed
matter as both the source of their wisdom (though many had a spiritual
orientation), and the salvation of their soul's desire. In its simplest
form, the transmutation of base metals (lead, mercury, etc.) into gold
was the primary goal, and the attempt to bring this about was taken
literally,
and quite seriously. Running parallel with this effort was the search
for
the philosopher's stone (the lapis, Latin = stone) and the
elixir
of life ("drinkable gold").
Alchemy, as proto-chemistry, later developed into the science of Chemistry at the time of the Age of Enlightenment, while the more metaphysical statements of the hermetic philosophers became the subject of philosophy and psychology. Transmutation became an ultimate reality in the twentieth century at two levels: psychologically, in the recognition of the alchemist's visions as representations of developmental and structural transformations in the psyche as given in the Jungian tradition, and physically, with the manufacture of new elements through transmutation of already existing elements (for example, hundreds of tonnes of plutonium are manufactured each year in the United States alone) as a result of a more detailed knowledge of the structure of the building blocks of matter (the atom), and an associated understanding of both the immense forces which bind subatomic particles and the awesome energies which may be released through nuclear fission and fusion. Thereby, late twentieth-century humanity was launched into the nuclear age — a world very different from that imagined by the alchemists. The Politico-religious World of the Alchemist In an age-old
human world
of values, aspirations,
goal-seeking and the like, it is not surprising that a kind of
'meritocratic'
attitude should have emerged as a fundamental aspect of human nature
(this
may be a human construction based on an a priori instinctual pattern of
survival). Existing side by side with other political systems of
increasing
complexity as civilisations grew, this type of meritocracy emerged in
accordance
with the notion that the measure of an individual's merit
(intelligence,
strength, personality and character, talent and skill, etc.) can only
be
proven in competition, or measured against personal wealth.
Hand in hand
with the
individual's "heroic
quest" is the distortion of this necessary striving for egohood and
identity
into an over-valuation in materialistic societies of the 'object' as a
symbol of personal power and spiritual strength in highly prized
(because
rare) elements and other products of matter (gold, silver, precious
jewels,
and so on). It is therefore not surprising that a socially constructed
type — the alchemist — should also have emerged: an individual whose
sole
aim was to acquire wealth — whether this be measured as aurum vulgi
(common gold = material riches) or aurum philosophorum
(philosophical
gold = emotional balance and wholeness).
Another split
was also
reflected in the character
of the alchemists. Human credulity and avarice prompted many
power-seeking
and opportunistic rulers to seek out successful alchemists who, having
mastered the art of gold-making, were later shown to be tricksters and
charlatans leading both themselves and their gullible sponsors either
to
financial ruin or narrow escape from vengeful creditors (Holmyard 1957:
14; De Rola 1973: 12-14). Other less ambitious, more honest
practitioners
of the art maintained a life-long and steady — if not fruitful —
attempt
at transmutation through cautious efforts in the laboratory, and
avoidance
of a public life, lest they be found out (Holmyard 1957: 14; De Rola
1973:
12-14; Aylesworth 1973; 39-41).
Secrecy was
especially
important since all
alchemists were regarded as heretics by the Church for adopting the
gnostic
belief that spiritual salvation could be achieved through knowledge of
nature and matter, and
speculative interpretation of Scripture.
Believing that human nature could be perfected in a laboratory through
chemical magic was an insult to Christian doctrine and Church
authority,
where faith and
spiritual interpretation of Scripture was the only
accepted path to God. Not that the alchemists in Christian Europe were
unchristian or antichristian — certainly they were not Godless. They
believed
that the darkness of nature could only be illuminated by the light of
the
Holy Spirit,
Deo concedente (with God's Will), with the art itself
being an arcanum of the Sapientia Dei (God's Wisdom) (Jung
1973:
26, 52).
The Hermetic Tradition It is from a
religious
position that the
idea of correspondences was most highly honoured amongst the more
insightful
of alchemists. Those that were well versed in the hermetic teachings of
the mythical Hermes Trismegistos — who supposedly lived
contemporaneously
with Moses of Exodus fame, and produced many works on alchemy, magic,
philosophy
and astrology — held the belief that a practical, experimental approach
to matter and an understanding of its nature, mirrored or corresponded
with the workings of the human soul and its nature, culminating in a
liberation
from the earthly realm, "after knowledge and experience of this world
have
been gained" (Bernoulli 1970: 319).
Fowden (1986:
22) notes
that hermetic thought
extends as far back as ancient Egypt to the Egyptian Thoth (god of
science,
intellect, and knowledge) who was later equated with both the Greek god
Hermes (god of travel, communication, and language) and the Roman god
Mercury
(god of commerce, eloquence and skill). Fowden writes that since God
was
taken by the hermetic philosophers to be a part of everything, it
naturally
followed that "sympathetic correspondences, or 'chains'" existed
between
all things, held together by "divine powers" or "energies":
affinities
[exist]
between the most disparate
areas of the natural realm, so that each animal, plant, mineral or even
part of the human or animal body corresponds to a particular planet or
god whom (or which) they can be used to influence, providing the right
procedures and formulae are known (Fowden 1986: 77-78).
Such a 'truth'
had to be
guarded from the
greedy and foolish masses. Therefore, as a means of protecting
themselves,
and their knowledge, Holmyard (1957: 14) claims that "alchemists used
to
describe their theories, materials, and operations in enigmatic
language,
efflorescent with allegory, metaphor, allusion and analogy" which often
led interpreters to assume that the alchemists' statements were
sometimes
of a "purely esoteric significance." However, their 'formulations' were
made just as often unconsciously as they were made deliberately. For
the
most part, the practices and materials were, as Holmyard states,
described
esoterically, but the images, and the theories constructed from these
images,
were spontaneous (unconscious) psychic products and were represented by
the alchemist as well as hand and eye would permit in ambiguous and
incomprehensible
paintings and drawings.
Jung recognised
the value
of these seemingly
paradoxical and nonsensical images when he discovered the connection
between
the unconscious psychic processes of the alchemist and his experiments
with matter (Jung 1970: 228, 242ff; 1989: 488ff).
Although
the tenth-century Persian physician Avicenna scoffed at the
literal-mindedness
of the 'puffers' (so named from their constant use of the bellows), and
many disillusioned but enlightened alchemists closed their laboratory
doors
for good to pursue the finer, more spiritual points of the art, most
alchemists
were never aware of the psychic component in their alchemical
transmutations
(Holmyard 1957: 90; Jung 1970: 217).
Understandably
so, since
the unconscious
content of the alchemist's psyche was not recognised as personal
(related
to the ego) and was therefore seen in the laboratory flask or vessel.
Jung
writes:
The
veritable panoply
and diversity of
imagery which constitute the iconography of alchemy reflects the
complex
nature of the psyche — particularly the unconscious — which
communicates
to the ego in images, since they convey more meaning than the spoken
word
(not that language is not used by the unconscious, but the image is
universal
and accessible to all people, while language is limiting and particular
to a people). As de Rola observes:
Even today,
images,
mythical or otherwise,
such as dragons, kings and queens, ravens, lions, unicorns, royal
marriages,
peacocks, trees, and so on, can be experienced to almost numinous
heights
in the human imagination (dreams, visions, fantasies), and even in the
visual arts, such as painting, sculpture, and film.
The Magnum Opus (The Great Work) The first
principle of the
opus was the Stone
of the Philosophers. This Stone must be "transformed and perfected by
the
art," becoming paradoxically, the lapis philosophorum
(Philosopher's
Stone) (de Rola 1973: 10).
Psychologically,
the lapis
refers
to the psyche — its closest equivalent for the alchemist being the
human
soul. In fact, the stone was called the "stone that is not a stone,"
coming
as it did "from God but not from God" (Aylesworth 1973: 36). Although
the
terms, before and after transmutation, (first, Stone of the
Philosophers,
then, Philosopher's stone) vary in word order, the lapis is
essentially
the same, just as transformation in a person's personality is
detectable
only through relationship, but not physically — effectively the person
is the same, but different, somehow.
The lapis
occupies
an extremely high
position in the arcanum of the alchemist, and as such, tended to be
referred
to in the texts more often than the gold, which was the transmuted base
metal made possible by the lapis in the first place.
Specifically,
the "transformed and perfected" Stone was attained by a union of
opposites
symbolised by the hieros gamos (sacred marriage) between Sol
(Sun) and Luna (Moon) principles. These principles were
embodied
in the anthropomorphic couple of King and Queen, which Jung equates
with
consciousness and the unconscious, respectively. They are antagonistic
and polar opposites and may involve friction and violent reaction when
brought 'face to face'–the process of self-discovery is equally
demanding.
This reaction was observable in the alchemist's vessel upon heating a
mixture
of the standard ingredients Sulphur (Sun) and Mercury (Moon), and was a
highly volatile procedure symbolised by two dragons at war.
Should success
be
attained, the royal couple
would merge and become the hermaphrodite or androgyne. Unfortunately,
there
were always difficulties, even disaster, during the opus, and many
stages,
involving putrefaction, sublimation (evaporation) and distillation
(purification),
were necessary to bring the process to completion. Jung (1970: 228-232)
observes that the "death of the product of the union" might follow,
which
took the alchemist into the nigredo (blackness) stage. A
'baptism'
or washing may lead the alchemist to the albedo (whiteness)
stage,
or the soul may return to the "dead" body, or perhaps the cauda
pavonis
(peacock's tail) symbolism of many colours might appear. This symbolism
too, marks the advent of the albedo, which is indicated by the
'presence'
of silver — the moon condition.
The final stage,
the rubedo
(reddening)
or sunrise stage is reached when the highest temperatures purge the
product
of its impurities. Once again the "red and the white are King and
Queen,
who may also celebrate their "chymical wedding" at this stage,
symbolising
a personality of even and balanced temperament and exhibiting the best
qualities of both natures–a 'golden' disposition (Jung 1970: 228-232).
The entire opus
is steeped
in confusing symbolism,
a conflation of real chemical reactions with the alchemist's
projections
(it is known that the fumes from heated mercury can induce
hallucinations) — an undifferentiated merging of natural events in the
physical world with
mental events in the psyche — which generally produced an incoherent
philosophy
that could not, or should not, be seen as referencing the same reality.
The psychically real and the physically real were one and the same to
the
alchemist, hence the difficulty the modern mind has in deciphering
these
images. With the advent of modem depth psychology a separation of these
two factors became possible.
Epilogue It cannot be
stated
conclusively whether
the ideals of the hermetic philosophers — the 'true' alchemists — were
ever realised in practice. Throughout the many centuries during which
the
alchemists have plied their craft only a few are claimed to have
discovered
the lapis and actually transmuted base metals into gold. One
notable
alchemist, a French scrivener of the 1400s, Nicolas Flamel, and his
wife
Pernelle, are held to have amassed a vast fortune in gold upon their
discovery
of the lapis, and there is documented evidence recording the great many
charitable acts performed on their part as a result of such wealth
(Sadoul
1972: 72-84).
As mentioned in Investigator
#54,
a relatively new theory of 'low energy transmutation' by Kervran
(1980), as distinct from the 'high energy' transmutation described
previously,
challenges modern physic's conceptions of matter. His theory sits
alongside
chemical theory and does not challenge its precepts, but the
physicist's
theory of the atomic nucleus is challenged in so far as it does not
necessarily
take extremely high levels of energy to create one element from
another.
Numerous examples are given in Kervran's book.
The legacy of
the
alchemists remains: from
their hard work and personal sacrifice, extending over thousands of
years,
arose the disciplines of modern medicine, pharmacology, organic and
inorganic
chemistry, mineralogy and nuclear physics. That which started in the
imagination
of the hermetic philosophers — the psychophysical parallelism of the
human
being with nature, the dream of transmutation, the discovery of many
new
elements, the nature of crystalline structures, and genuine scientific
work (including improvements in laboratory techniques) — led to the
empirical
foundations of the world as we know it today.
The testament of
the
alchemists: advances
in medicine (cures for venereal disease and other ailments, smelling
salts,
sleeping potions and pain killers), waterproofing for leather and
cloth,
rust inhibitors, luminous inks and explosives, and so on, have all
arisen
from the imagination and the endeavouring human spirit. As Jung has
said:
"the debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable. It must
not
be forgotten that it is just in the imagination that a [person's]
highest
value may lie" (Jung 1971: 63). This value, the alchemist's dream, may
well be the philosophical gold.
BIBLIOGRAPHY Aylsworth, Thomas. G. The
Alchemist: Magic Into Science. Reading, Mass.: Addison-Westey,
1973.
Bernoulli, Jacob.
"Spiritual
Development in Alchemy." In Spiritual Disciplines: Papers From The
Eranos
Yearbook. New York: Princeton University Press, 1970.
De Rola, Stanislas K. The
Secret Art of Alchemy. London: Thames and Hudson, 1973.
Fowden, Garth. The
Egyptian
Hermes. Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 1986.
Gilchrist, C. The
Elements
of Alchemy. Longmead, Shaftesbury, Dorset: Element Books, 1991.
Holmyard, E. I. Alchemy.
Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1957.
Jung, C. G. Psychology
and Alchemy. Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 1970.
Kervran, C. L. Biological
Transmutation. New York: Beekman, 1990.
Sadoul, Jacques. Alchemists
and Gold. London: Neville Spearman, 1972.
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