Alchemy, a definition

Alchemy is an ancient art and science concerned with the transmutation of base metals into gold, with the discovery of a single cure for all diseases, with a way to prolong life indefinitely, and with the manufacture of artificial life. Also defined as "a form of speculative thought that, among other aims, tried to transform base metals such as lead or copper into silver or gold and to discover a cure for disease and a way of extending life."

Alchemy was the name given in Latin Europe in the 12th century to an aspect of thought that corresponds to astrology, which is apparently an older tradition. Both represent attempts to discover the relationship of man to the cosmos and to exploit that relationship to his benefit. The first of these objectives may be called scientific, the second technological. Astrology is concerned with man's relationship to "the stars" (including the members of the solar system); alchemy, with terrestrial nature. But the distinction is far from absolute, since both are interested in the influence of the stars on terrestrial events. Moreover, both have always been pursued in the belief that the processes human beings witness in heaven and on earth manifest the will of the Creator and, if correctly understood, will yield the key to the Creator's intentions.

Symbolically, alchemy is a mystical art for human spiritual transformation into a higher form of being. Alchemy emerged in China and in Egypt during the early centuries of this era. In China it was associated with Taoist philosophy and purported to transmute base metals into gold by use of a 'medicine'. The gold so produced was thought to have the ability to cure diseases and to prolong life. In Egypt, the methods of transmutation of metals were kept secret by temple priests. Those recipes became widely known (2nd PE) at the academy (the Mouseion)  in Alexandria. Alchemy had its basis in the skills of Egyptian artisans, Eastern mysticism, and Aristotelian theory of composition of matter. Aristotle taught that all matter was composed of four elements: water, earth, fire, and air. According to his theory, different materials found in nature had different ratios of these four elements. Therefore, by proper treatment a base metal could be changed into gold. These ideas were further supported by astrological speculations from Mesopotamia. Astrologers believed that celestial bodies "the Sun, the Moon, and the stars" had a profound influence on the activities of humans. Thus, for alchemists to transmute metals effectively, the heavenly bodies had to be in a favorable configuration. In the 8th and 9th centuries Chinese, Greek and Alexandrine alchemical lore entered the Arab world. The Arab alchemists modified the Aristotelian concept of the four elements by postulating that all metals were composed of two immediate components: sulfur and mercury. They also adopted the Chinese alchemists' concept of a Philosopher's Stone : a medicine that could turn a "sick" (base) metal into gold and also act as an Elixir of Life. Arab alchemical treatises, such as those by Persian physicians al-Razi (886-925) and Avicenna (980-1036) were popular during the Middle Ages. With the fall of Rome, Greek science and philosophy declined in Western Europe. However, close contact with the Arabs in Spain and Sicily in the 11th and 12th centuries brought to Europe a new interest in Arabic philosophers, physicians, and scientists. Indirectly from Syrian and Arabic texts, Greek manuscripts were translated into Latin and European languages (we must point out here that we owe much to the Arabs for preserving not only alchemically related texts, but various ancient Greek and Hellenistic texts, from philosophy to sciences, which there is substantial reason to believe that were copied directly from the Mouseion in Alexandria. These texts are the only proof the the Library of Alexandria ever existed at all) . The Alchemical explanation of the nature of matter was included in the treatises of such scholars as Arnold of Villanova (1240-1313), Roger Bacon (1214-94), and Albertus Magnus (1205-128?). They contained not only mystical theory but also important practical recipes. Arnold of Villanova described distillation of wine; Roger Bacon gave a recipe for gunpowder and directions for constructing a telescope.

The alchemist became a recognizable figure on the European scene, and kings and nobles often supported alchemists in the hope of increasing their resources. Frequently, however, alchemists who failed in their attempt to produce the promised gold lost their lives. In time, alchemy fell into disrepute because of the nefarious character of its practitioners. It is said that Frederick of Wurzburg maintained special gallows for hanging alchemists. From the 15th to the 17th century, alchemical symbolism and allegory became increasingly complex. Practical alchemists turned from attempting to make gold toward preparing medicines. A leader in this movement was Philipus Aureolus Paracelsus. He was the first in Europe to mention zinc and to use the word alcohol to refer to the spirit of wine. After the Scientific Revolution in the 17th century, alchemy became marginalized and interest in transmutation became limited to astrologers and numerologists. Nevertheless, the chemical facts that had been accumulated by alchemists as a by-product of their search for gold became the basis for modern chemistry. In the West, interest in the spiritual dimension of alchemy was rekindled in the mid-20th century through the works of the psychiatrist Carl C. Jung on Gnostic and Alchemical spiritualism.

The Golden Age

The Renaissance was alchemy's golden age. The wave of rebirth and renewal washing over Europe brought dazzling innovations to all the arts and sciences. Religion, too, experienced mighty changes with the Protestant Reformation that began early in the 16th century. Alchemy "part science, part art, part religion" rode buoyantly on the swell of innovation, particularly as it applied to the eternal human pursuit of gold. Gold truly symbolized the alchemist's quest, and kings and commoners from the Mediterranean to the Baltic came to see alchemy as a shortcut to inexhaustible wealth. Because greed spawns corruption, there was a darker side to all this. Europe abounded with charlatans, swindlers, and humbugs who preyed on the humble and the powerful alike. Their histories provide a rich catalog of the weaknesses as well as the follies of humankind.

Yet in its true form the Art of Arts was a high calling, and many alchemists were men of great wisdom and profound moral purpose. For them the search for spiritual perfection took precedence over the quest for easy riches, and transforming a leaden and impure soul into spiritual gold was as important as the physical process of transmuting metals. These genuine adepts saw the universe as a unity and believed that by exploring the intricate workings of its parts they could divine the meaning of the whole.

Thus they viewed Alchemy as a holy art that contained a dual nature. Diligently pursued, it could provide both a spiritual path to knowledge of the cosmic purpose and a practical means to improve the lot of humankind. As the yeasty spirit of the Renaissance inspired thinkers to question ancient authority and seek functional answers to nature's mysteries, alchemists were in the front lines of the new order. They paved the way for the development of chemistry as a science. And since true alchemists had selected as one of their goals the betterment of the human condition, it was a logical next step for them to apply their chemical skills to the field of medicine.

To achieve such enlightenment was a formidable undertaking, however, and the difficult path led a large number of alchemists to a lifetime of disappointment and a pauper's grave. Yet on its highest plane alchemy was a magnificent obsession, and the true adept had nothing but scorn for the petty practitioner whose only goal in life consisted of a base desire to find his fortune in a gold-filled crucible.

When Nicholas Flamel was making a name for himself in 14th century Paris, the dawn of the age of scientific chemistry was a long way off. Flamel and his fellow alchemists knew almost nothing about the structure of matter. Most scholars believed firmly 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 embraced Aristotle's explanation that everything in the universe was fashioned from these four elements and that the precise proportions, combined with contrasting qualities such as wet and dry, hot and cold, determined whether a metal would, for example, turn out to be lead or gold.

In this context, the idea of transmutation made perfect sense. The metals themselves, most scholars thought, were naturally fashioned in the earth's interior furnace by an essentially alchemical process that acted on the prima materia. Furthermore, since all things in nature were charged with the divine spirit and therefore aspired to a higher, more perfect state, metals, too, gradually perfected themselves in the earth's womb. Thus even lead, through a natural process of transmutation, would eventually turn into silver or gold. The alchemist's task, therefore, was to speed up nature's work by performing the transmutation in the laboratory. Such artificial transmutation seemed entirely reasonable to Renaissance thinkers. The problem was how to go about it.

The Oath to Secrecy

One of the basic tenets of alchemy was that its secrets must 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 explicit when he warned that "to speak of this even a little further would mean being willing to sink into hell."

The reasons for secrecy went beyond mere elitism. Greed, of course, played its part in prompting some alchemists to keep their formulas under wraps. Another powerful restraint was imposed when the Catholic church in the 14th century pronounced Alchemy to be a diabolic art. But still more compelling, for the true adept, was a genuine fear of the evil that might 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."

The Philosopher's Stone may not have been part of the Renaissance citizens' everyday life, but most of them believed that it existed and that some of the sorcerers, necromancers, and wizards floating about possessed it. Written and oral histories of the period abound with tales of the stone's prowess, and the narratives (some might call them legends or fairy tales) deal in perfectly matter-of-fact tones with the phenomenon. Most of the accounts appear today to be an intriguing blend of truth and wishful thinking, but not all the facts can be sorted out, and many mysteries remain.