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Alchemy (page
3)
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Alchemical symbolic
references were often reflected in strange images. This
16th century print shows the importance of the three
vital elements — salt, mercury, and sulphur — as a
vision of an undeveloped human form, housing the
subconscious, inchoate and unrefined natures (from the
1612 edition of Martin Rutland's
Lexicon Alchemiae). |
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Gold truly represented the alchemist's quest, and kings and commoners from
the Mediterranean to the Baltic came to see alchemy as a shortcut to
limitless wealth. Greed generated corruption, creating a darker side to all
this. Charlatans, swindlers, and humbugs that preyed on the humble and the
powerful alike, thrived. Some of them, as mentioned before, ended up paying
the ultimate price for their unscrupulous exploits. Their histories present
a rich catalog of the flaws as well as the follies of humankind.
Yet in its proper manner the art of arts was a higher calling. Numerous
alchemists were men of vast wisdom and profound moral principles. For these
men, the pursuit of spiritual perfection took precedence over the search for
easy riches, and transforming a troubled and unclean soul into spiritual
gold was as important as the physical procedure of transmuting metals. These
authentic adepts viewed the universe as a unity and believed that by
searching the complicated workings of its elements they could discover the
essence of the whole.
Thus alchemists saw their superior vocation as a holy art that had a dual
nature. Assiduously pursued, it could supply both a spiritual pathway to
knowledge of the cosmic objective and a practical means to improve humanity.
The dynamically renewed spirit of the Renaissance inspired thinkers to
question ancient authority and to seek practical answers to nature's
mysteries. Alchemists were at the forefront of this new directive, paving
the way for the development of chemistry as a science. And since true
alchemists had elected as one of their goals the betterment of the human
condition, it was an obvious next step to apply their chemical skills to the
field of medicine.
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To achieve such enlightenment was a formidable undertaking, however, and the
grueling path led a large number of alchemists to a lifetime of frustration
and a pauper's grave. Yet on its highest plane alchemy was a magnificent
obsession, and the genuine adept had nothing but disdain for the petty
practitioner whose only objective in life consisted of a base aspiration to
find his fortune in a gold-filled crucible.
When Nicholas Flamel was earning a name for himself in 14th century Paris,
the beginning of the age of scientific chemistry was a long way off. Flamel
and his fellow alchemists knew almost nothing about the constitution of
matter. Most scholars believed confidently in the ancient theory that all
matter sprang from an elemental material, known as the prima materia, from
which was formed the four basic elements — fire, air, water, and earth. They
still accepted Aristotle's explanation that everything in the universe was
formed from these four elements and that the exact proportions, combined
with divergent qualities such as wet and dry, hot and cold, defined whether
a metal turned out to be lead or gold.
In
this context, the concept of transmutation made perfect sense. Most scholars
thought that the metals were naturally formed in the earth's interior
furnace by an essentially alchemical process that acted on the prima materia.
Furthermore, since all things in nature were energized with the divine
spirit and for that reason aspired to a higher, more perfect state, metals,
too, steadily perfected themselves inside the earth's womb. For this reason
even lead, in the course of a natural process of transmutation, would
ultimately become silver or gold. The alchemist's role, therefore, was to
speed up nature's work by executing the transmutation in the laboratory.
Such artificial transmutation seemed completely reasonable to the
Renaissance intellectuals. The predicament was how to go about it.
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Alchemists packed much
symbolic information into pictures like this one, based
on the following terse instructions: "Make a circle out
of a man and a woman, derive from it a square, and from
the square a triangle: make a circle and you will have
the philosopher's stone." Such drawings, said one adept,
"depict with sufficient clarity for clairvoyant eyes
what is most secret and hidden in the Great Work." (from
the Library of Congress image collection). |
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One of the fundamental principles of
alchemy was that its secrets should not be revealed to the uninitiated. "I
swear to you upon my soul," the 13th century alchemist Ramon Llull
vowed to his readers, "that if you reveal this, you shall be damned." A
later adept, writing under the name of Basil Valentine, was no less graphic
when he warned that "to speak of this even a little further would mean being
willing to sink into hell."
The rationale for secrecy went beyond
mere elitism. Greed, of course, played its part in prompting some alchemists
to retain their formulas under wraps. Another potent restraint was imposed
when the Catholic Church in the 14th century pronounced alchemy to be a
diabolic art. But still more persuasive,
for the true adept, was an authentic fear of the
evil
that possibly would be wreaked on society should the stone find its way into the wrong hands. As
Englishman Thomas Norton wrote in the 15th century:
"This art must ever secret be. /
The cause whereof is this, as ye may see: / If one evil man had thereof all his will, /
All Christian peace he might easily
spill, / And with his pride he might pull down / Rightful kings and princes of
renown."
Norton's anxiety may sound picturesque
today, but he was dead serious, and it would not be unusual to associate his concern to
a 20th century statesman's apprehension about nuclear proliferation.
The Philosopher's Stone
may not have been part of the Renaissance citizens' everyday life, but most believed that it
existed and that some of the sorcerers,
necromancers, and
wizards of the time possessed
it. Written and oral histories of the period abound with tales of the stone's prowess, and
the accounts — some might call them legends or fairy tales — deal in perfectly
matter-of-fact tones with the phenomenon. Today, most of the narratives come
out as being a fascinating blend of truth and wishful thinking, but not all the facts can be sorted out,
and many mysteries still remain.
See
Agrippa,
Casting Black Magic Spells,
Commanding Spirits,
The Tarot Store and
Divination & Scrying Tools and
Supplies.
Sources: (1)
Dictionary of the
Occult, Caxton
Publishing;
(2)
Steiger, Brad and
Sherry H.,
The Gale Encyclopedia of
the Unusual and Unexplained,
Thomson Gale; (3) Spence, Lewis,
An Encyclopedia of
Occultism,
Carol Publishing Group; (4) Fernando, Diana,
Alchemy: An Illustrated A to Z,
Sterling Publications; (5)
Alchemy: The Art of Knowing (Medieval Wisdom),
Harper Collins Publishers;
(6)
Secrets
of the Alchemists,
Mysteries
of the Unknown
series,
Time-Life Books;
(7) Walker, Charles,
The Encyclopedia of the Occult,
Random House Value; (8)
Mysteries of Mind,
Space & Time: The Unexplained,
H. S. Stuttman Inc. Publishers; (9) Powell, Neil,
Alchemy, the Ancient Science,
Doubleday.
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