Although the intellectual tendencies of the Hellenic mind were hardly calculated to favour the development of chemistry as a science, the speculations of the Greeks concerning the essential nature of matter and the mutual convertibility of the “elements” led incidentally to an extension of the art of operative chemistry. This extension resulted from attempts to realise what was the logical outcome of the teaching of their philosophers—viz., the possibility of the transmutation of metals. The idea of transmutation has its germ in the oldest systems of philosophy. It was a plausible doctrine, not wholly unsupported by the phenomena of the organic world; and it naturally commended itself to men who were only too prone to adopt what their cupidity and love of wealth predisposed them to believe.

It has been assumed that alchemy at no time in its history had the slightest claim to a philosophical foundation, but that its professors and adepts, even at the outset, consciously traded on the credulity and greed of their dupes. Much may be urged against such a partial view. The supposition is not consistent with history or with evolutional tendencies. It may be, as Davy once said, that “analogy is the fruitful parent of error;” but the idea that metals could be modified—could even be changed one into the other—seemed to find support in innumerable chemical phenomena well known but imperfectly understood. The fact that alchemy—that is the profession of making gold from other metals—came to be practised by rogues is no proof that it never had, and never could have had, a philosophical basis.

The changes which substances experience under the influence of fire, air, and water, or as the result of their action on each other, are frequently so profound that even the most superficial of the early observers of chemical processes could not fail to be impressed by them. Many of these changes are, in fact, far more striking as regards alteration in outward characters—such as colour, lustre, density, etc.—than are the differences between individual metals; say, between lead and tin, or between tin and silver, or between brass and gold. That copper ores, by appropriate treatment with other ores, or that copper itself by the addition of another metal, could be made to furnish a metallic-looking substance having certain of the attributes of gold was known to the earliest workers in metals. What is thought to be the oldest chemical treatise in existence is a papyrus in the possession of the University of Leyden. It consists of a number of receipts for the working of metals and alloys, and describes methods of imitating and falsifying the noble metals. It explains how, by means of arsenic, a white colour may be given to certain metals, and how, by the addition of cadmia, copper acquires the colour of gold. The same papyrus describes a method of blackening metals by the use of preparations of sulphur. The limited knowledge of chemical phenomena and of chemical processes which these early workers necessarily possessed, so far from precluding a belief in the possibility of transmutation, actually encouraged it. As nothing was known of the true nature of brass or of its exact relation to copper, it was not unreasonable to suppose that, if this substance could be made to acquire some of the attributes of gold by a process essentially chemical, processes of a like nature might cause it to acquire, if not all, at least so many of them as to enable it to pass for gold of greater or less fineness. To them, as to us, perfection was, in technical practice, a question of degree: the very language of the metallurgists of old was in this respect nowise different from that of the metallurgists of to-day.

It is not necessary to suppose that these early attempts were deliberately and consciously fraudulent, like those of coiners who knowingly seek to make an alloy of lead and tin simulate silver. The first alchemists sought in good faith to make something which should be of the true nature and essence of gold as they conceived it to be. In fact, the idea of transmutation had a rational foundation in a theory of the intrinsic nature of metals which may be looked upon as a development of the ancient beliefs concerning the essential nature of all forms of matter.

Just as the Aristotelian “elements” were qualities which, according to their degree, determined the nature of substances, so, in like manner, the specific character of a metal depended upon the relative proportion of its “sulphur” and “mercury.” These terms had no certain reference to what we to-day understand by sulphur and mercury. They denoted simply qualities. The essence or “element” of mercury conferred lustre, malleability, ductility, and fusibility, or, speaking generally, the properties which we connote as metallic; while to the essence or “element” of sulphur was to be attributed the combustibility—or, speaking generally, the alterability—of the metal by fire. By modifying the relative proportion of these constituent elements, or by purifying them from extraneous substances by the operations of chemistry, it was conceived that the several metals could be changed one into the other. To effect this purification it was necessary to add various preparations known as “medicines,” chief among which was the Great Elixir, or Magisterium, or the Philosopher’s Stone, by which the final transformation into the noblest of the metals could alone be achieved.

The Arabic words kÍmy and iksÍr were originally synonymous and each was used to denote the agent by which the baser metals could be transmuted into silver and gold. Ultimately the former term became restricted to indicate the art of transmutation (alchemy), whereas iksÍr, or al-iksÍr, continued to denote the medium by which the transmutation was effected. By later writers the term was used to indicate a liquid preparation—the quintessence of the philosophers—whence we have the word elixir, which always means a liquid.

The alchemistic theory of the compound nature and mutual relations of the metals is usually ascribed to Geber; but, although he adopted it, he distinctly states that it did not originate with him, but that he found it in the writings of his predecessors.

The idea of the stone, the philosophical powder, the grand magisterium, the elixir, the tincture, the quintessence—by all of which terms the transmuting medium is known in the literature of alchemy—is probably connected with another conception respecting the origin of metals which can be traced to very early times and was prevalent throughout the Middle Ages. It was supposed of old that metals were generated within the earth, as animals and plants were generated on its surface, and that something akin to a seed, or semen, was needed to initiate their formation. The great problem of alchemy was to discover this fecundating substance, as upon it depended the genesis of the perfect metal. This idea of the conception of metals runs through the literature of alchemy. It explains many allusions and much of the terminology of its writers. For example, the furnace in which the alchemist makes his projection is constantly spoken of as the philosophical egg.

It is impossible to say with certainty when and where the art of alchemy originated. There is no evidence that it has the antiquity which certain of its adepts claimed for it. Oleus Borrichius referred it to the time of Tubal-cain. The earliest writers on alchemy were probably Byzantine ecclesiastics, some of whom professed to ascribe the art to Egypt, and eventually to the mythological deity Hermes, whose association with chemistry in such terms as “the hermetic art,” “hermetically sealed,” etc., is thus explained.

This much is established—that at some period prior to the tenth century there arose a special class of operative chemists, for the most part more learned in the knowledge of chemical phenomena in general, and more skilled in chemical manipulation, than the craftsmen and artisans engaged in the manufacture of technical products. They devoted themselves to searching for methods whereby the common and baser metals might be converted into silver and gold. The first known definition of chemistry relates to the aim and operations of this special class. It occurs in the lexicon of Suidas, a Greek writer of the eleventh century, who defines chemistry, ??Ía as the preparation of silver and gold. Attempts at the artificial preparation of the noble metals probably originated with the Arabians, who followed the Egyptians and the Greeks in the cultivation of chemical pursuits.

Neither Hesiod nor Homer makes mention of the art of producing gold from any other metal, or speaks of the universal medicine. Nor are they referred to by Aristotle or by his pupil Theophrastus. Pliny nowhere speaks of the philosopher’s stone, although he tells the story of Caligula, who, tempted by his avarice, sought to make gold from orpiment (auripigmentum) by distillation. “The result was that he did indeed obtain both, and of the finest kind; but in so small quantity, and with so much labour and apparatus, that, the profit not countervailing the expense, he desisted.” According to Boerhaave, the first author who mentions al-chemia is Julius Firmicus Maternus, who lived under Constantine the Great, and who, in his Mathesis, c. 15, speaking of the influences of the heavenly bodies, affirms “that, if the moon be in the house of Saturn when a child is born, he shall be skilled in alchemy.”

The first writer who mentions the possibility of transmuting metals would appear to be a Greek divine called Æneas GarÆus, who lived towards the close of the fifth century, and who wrote a commentary on Theophrastus. He was followed by Anastatius the Sinaite, Syncellus, Stephanus, Olimpiodorus; and, says Boerhaave, “a crowd of no less than fifty more, all Greeks, and most or all of them monks.” “The art seemed now confined to the Greeks, and among them few wrote but the religious, who from their great laziness and solitary way of life were led into vain, enthusiastical speculations, to the great disservice and adulteration of the art.... They all wrote in the natural style of the Schoolmen, full of jargon, grimace, and obscurity.”

Experimental alchemy, as distinguished from industrial chemistry, may, as already stated, be said to have originated with the Arabians. At first, alchemy was regarded as a branch of the art of healing, and its professors were invariably physicians who occupied themselves with the preparation of chemical medicines. In fact, in the beginning its true aim was regarded as that which Paracelsus and the school of iatro-chemists subsequently defined it to be. Under the rule of the Caliphs the study of chemistry made considerable progress, and its literature was greatly augmented. The most notable name in the history of chemistry during the eighth century was Abu-Moussah-Dschabir-Al-Sufi—otherwise Geber—(born 702, died 765), who is stated to have been either a native of Mesopotamia, or a Greek and a Christian, who afterwards embraced Mahometanism, went to Asia, and acquired a knowledge of Arabic. According to Leo Africanus, a Greek who wrote of the antiquity of the Arabs, Geber’s book was originally written in Greek and translated thence into Arabic, and he was not known by the name Geber, which signifies a great man or a prince, till after this version. Latin translations of what purported to be his works were first published in the early part of the sixteenth century, and an English rendering appeared in 1678. According to this it would seem that Geber regarded all the metals as compounds of “sulphur” and “mercury,” the differences between them depending upon the relative proportion and degree of purity of these constituents. He is said to have distinguished them by the astrological names of the planets: thus gold became Sol, silver Luna, copper Venus, iron Mars, tin Jupiter, and lead Saturn. That an occult connection of the metals with the stars existed was part of the creed of alchemy, and the influence of that belief is still traceable in chemical, and especially in pharmaceutical, literature; as, for example, in such terms as Lunar caustic, Martian preparations, Saturnine solutions, etc.

It has been held that the idea of a universal medicine had its origin with Geber. But this may be due to a misreading of his words, which in reality may have reference to the transmutation of metals. He tells of a medicine which cures all lepers. But this may be nothing but allegory. By man is probably meant gold, and by lepers the other metals; and the medicine is the universal solvent or agent which transmutes. Alchemistic literature is full of allegories of this character. Berthelot has shown that in reality there were two Gebers—one who is generally considered to be of Arab origin, and another whose identity is not established, but who was probably a Western European who appears to have lived about the year 1300.1

Other notable names in the history of Arabian alchemy are Rhazes, or AbÛ Bakr Mohammed ibn ZakarÁyÁ el-RÁzi, who lived circa 925, and Avicenna, or in Arabic AbÛ Ali el-Hosein ibn-Abdallah ibn-Sina, born 980, died 1037. The former, a Persian, practised medicine at Baghdad as a follower of Galen and Hippocrates. The latter, one of the most eminent of Moslem physicians and a voluminous writer, was a native of Bokhara. He is mainly known in the history of science by his Canon of Medicine, in which he describes the composition and preparation of remedies. He wrote at least one treatise on alchemy, but others attributed to him are probably apocryphal. Of his Philosophia Orientalis, mentioned by Roger Bacon and Averroes, no trace remains.

Although it is reasonably certain that the alchemists of the time of Geber and of his successors had a considerable acquaintance with manipulative chemistry, there were so many impudent literary forgeries during the alchemical period that the precise extent of the knowledge possessed by the early chemists must always remain uncertain.

A number of the ordinary chemical processes, such as distillation, sublimation, calcination, filtration, appear to have been known to, and to have been commonly practised by, the Arabian chemists; and many saline substances, such as carbonate of soda, pearlash, sal-ammoniac, alum, copperas, borax, silver nitrate, cinnabar, and corrosive sublimate, were prepared by them. They seem to have known of certain of the mineral acids, and were familiar with the solvent properties of aqua regia.

An examination of the literature of alchemy serves to show how its principles and tenets developed. The philosopher’s stone is first heard of in the twelfth century. Prior to that period the greater number of the Greek and Arabian writers contented themselves with affirming the fact of transmutation, without indicating how it might be accomplished. The universal medicine and the elixir of life were the products of a later age; no mention of them is known before the thirteenth century.

Alchemy flourished vigorously during the Middle Ages, and lingered on even until the early part of the nineteenth century. Its history is simply a long chapter in the history of human credulity. For the most part it is a record of self-deception, imposture, and fraud. It produced an abundant literature, mainly the work of ecclesiastics, between the seventh and fourteenth centuries; but as regards the artificial preparation of the noble metals or the discovery of the universal medicine or the elixir of life it was barren of result.

Although no clear line of demarcation is possible, it may be convenient, in dealing with the personal history of alchemy, to divide it into the two periods before and after Paracelsus, since under his inspiration and example alchemy underwent a great development as regards its professed objects. These eventually became so extravagant that, wide as are the limits of human credulity, its pretensions gradually brought it into disrepute, and it fell by the weight of its own absurdities.

One of the most reputable of the early Western alchemists was Albert Groot, or Albertus Magnus, born at Lauingen in 1193. He was a Dominican monk, who became Bishop of Regensburg, but, resigning his bishopric, retired to a convent at Cologne, where he devoted himself to science until his death in 1282. He is credited with having written a number of chemical tracts, for the most part in clear and intelligible language, which is more than can be said of the greater portion of alchemistical literature. He gives an account of the origin and main properties of the chemical substances known in his time, and describes the apparatus and processes used by chemists, such as the water-bath, alembics, aludels, and cupels. He speaks of cream of tartar, alum and caustic alkali, red lead, liver of sulphur and arsenic, green vitriol and iron pyrites.

Contemporaneously with him was Roger Bacon, Doctor Mirabilis, one of the most erudite men of his age, who was born near Ilchester in Somerset in 1214, and, after studying at Oxford, became a friar, occupied himself in philosophical pursuits, and wrote numerous tracts on alchemy. He describes what was probably gunpowder, but there is no certain proof that he invented it. In his De Secretis Artis et NaturÆ, written before 1249, he gives instructions for refining saltpetre, and in an anagram which Colonel Hime, in his Gunpowder and Ammunition, has interpreted, he states that a mixture “which will produce a thundering noise and a bright flash” may be made by taking “7 parts of saltpetre, 5 of young hazel wood, and 5 of sulphur.” He died in 1285.

Raymund Lully, a friend and scholar of Bacon, was born in Majorca in 1225 (others say 1235), and was buried there in 1315. A member of the Order of Minorites, he had a great reputation as an alchemist; and a number of books on alchemy and chemical processes are ascribed to him. He described modes of obtaining nitric acid and aqua regia, and studied their action upon metals. He obtained alcohol by distillation, and knew how to dehydrate it by the aid of carbonate of potash, which he obtained by calcining cream of tartar. He prepared various tinctures and essential oils, and a number of metallic compounds, such as red and white precipitate. To him is usually ascribed the first idea of a universal medicine. There is some difficulty in believing that all that is ascribed to Lully was actually the work of his age, for it would appear to have been a common practice with the disciples and followers of a notable scholar to usher in their performances under their master’s name—a practice not unknown in later days. “So full are they of the experiments and observations which occur in our later writers that either the books must be suppositious, or the ancient chemists must have been acquainted with a world of things which pass for the discoveries of modern practice” (Boerhaave). The story is that Lully plunged into the study of chemistry from the desire to cure a maiden of a cancered breast, and that he was stoned to death in Africa, whither he had journeyed as a missionary. It has been further alleged that at one period of his life he made gold in the Tower of London by the King’s order, and that he offered Edward III. a supply of six millions to make war against the infidels. As Boerhaave drily remarks, “the history of this eminent adept is very much imbroiled.”

Arnoldus Villanovanus, or Arnaud de Villeneuve, a Frenchman, is said to have been born in 1240, and to have practised medicine in Barcelona, where he incurred the enmity of the Church by reason of his heretical opinions, and was obliged to leave Spain. He led a wandering life, eventually settling in Sicily, under the protection of Frederick II., and acquired a great reputation as a physician. Summoned thence by Clement V., who lay sick at Avignon, he lost his life by shipwreck in 1313.

Johannes de Rupecissa, or Jean de Raquetaillade, a Franciscan friar who lived from about the middle to the end of the fourteenth century, wrote a number of treatises on alchemy, and described methods of making calomel and corrosive sublimate. He was accused of the practice of magic, and, by order of Innocent VI., was thrown into prison, where he died. He was buried at Villefranche.

George Ripley, an Englishman, Canon of Bridlington, practised alchemy during the second half of the fifteenth century. He spent some time in Italy in the service of Innocent VIII. On his return to England he became a Carmelite, and died in 1490. Like Bacon, he was charged with magic. According to Mundanus, he followed alchemy with such success that he was able to advance to the knights of St. John of Jerusalem large amounts of gold for the defence of the Isle of Rhodes against the Turks.

One of the most important names in connection with the history of alchemy is that of Basil Valentine. Of his personal history nothing is known. He was supposed to be a Benedictine monk who lived in Saxony during the latter half of the fifteenth century; but there are grounds for the belief that the numerous writings attributed to him are in reality the work of various hands. The attempt made by Maximilian I. to discover the identity of the author was unavailing, nor have subsequent inquiries had any better result. The collection of books bearing his name, first published in the beginning of the seventeenth century, reveals quite a remarkable number of chemical facts up to that time not generally known. The most important of these relate to antimony and its preparations, such as butter of antimony, powder of algaroth, oxide of antimony, etc. He seems to have known of arsenic, zinc, bismuth, and manganese. He described a number of mercurial preparations, and many of the salts of lead were known to him. He mentions fulminating gold, and was aware that iron could be coated with copper by immersion in a solution of blue vitriol. He knew of green vitriol and the double chloride of iron and ammonium, and gave the modes of making a considerable number of other metallic salts, such as the sal armoniacum, which we now know as sal ammoniac. He also appears to have prepared ether and the chloride and nitrate of ethyl.

There is reason to believe, as stated already, that many of the published works ascribed to these learned men are the work of obscure individuals who traded on their fame. What may with certainty be credited to them serves to show that their theoretical opinions had much in common. They all regarded the transmutation of metals and the existence of the philosopher’s stone as facts which could not be controverted. They followed Geber in assuming that all the metals were essentially compound in their nature, and consisted of the essence or “element” of mercury, united with different proportions of the essence or “element” of sulphur.

The alchemists were the professional chemists of their time, and many of them were practising physicians. Indeed, professional chemistry may be said to have originated out of the practice of physic. As the number of chemical products increased and their value in therapeutics became more and more appreciated, there arose another school of alchemists, whose energies were devoted, not to the transmutation of metals—which, however plausible as a belief, seemed hopeless of achievement—but to the more immediate practical benefits which it was recognised must follow from the closer association of chemistry and medicine. This school came to be known as the iatro-chemists. As their doctrines exercised a great influence upon the development of chemistry, it will be desirable to treat of them and their professors in a special chapter.