Chapter 2

The principal design of early philosophers in physics was to explain how everything was generated, and to trace the different states through which things pass until they become perfect. They observed that as a thing is not generated out of any other indifferently--for example, that marble is not capable of making flesh, all bodies cannot be compounded of principles alone, connected in a simple way, but imagined they could be made up of a few simple compounds. These ultimate compounds, if we may so express it, were their elements. The number of elements was variously estimated, but was generally taken as four--a number arrived at rather from the consideration of the sensations bodies awaken in us, than from the study of bodies themselves. Aristotle gives us the train of thought by which the number is reached. He considers the qualities observed by the senses, classifying them as Heat, Cold, Dryness or Hardness, and Moistness or Capability of becoming liquid. These may partially co-exist, two at a time, in the same substance. There are thus four possible combinations, Cold and dry, Cold and moist, Hot and dry, Hot and moist. He then names these from their prototypes Earth, Water, Fire, and Air, distinguishing these elements from the actual Earth, etc., of everyday life.

The habit of extending analogies beyond their legitimate application was a source of confusion in the early ages of science. Most of the superstitions of primitive religion, of astrology, and of alchemy, arose from this source. A good example is the extension of the metaphor in the words _generation_ and _corruption_: words in constant use in scientific works until the nineteenth century began. Generation is the production of a substance that before was not, and corruption is the destruction of a substance, by its ceasing to be what it was before. Thus, fire is generated, and wood is corrupted, when the latter is burnt. But the implicit metaphor in the use of the terms likens substances to the human body, their production and destruction implies liability to disease, and thus prepares the way for the notion of the elixir, which is first a potion giving long life, and curing bodily ailments, and only after some time a remedy for diseased metals--the philosopher's stone.

It will be seen that the theory of the mediaeval alchemist was that matter is an entity filling all space, on which in different places different forms were impressed. The elements were a preliminary grouping of these, and might be present--two, three, or four at a time--in any substance. No attempt was ever made to separate these elements by scientific men, just as no attempt is ever made to isolate the ether of the physical speculations of to-day. The theory of modern physicists, with its ether and vortices, answers almost exactly to the matter and form of the ancients, the nature of the vortices conditioning matter.

The extracts from Book XI. bring us to another class of substances. All compound bodies are classified as imperfect or perfect. Imperfect compounds, or meteors, to some extent resemble elements. They are fiery, as the rainbow, or watery, as dew. Our extract on the rainbow is somewhat typical of the faults of ancient science. A note is taken of a rare occurrence--a lunar rainbow; but in describing the common one, an error of the most palpable kind is made. The placing of blue as the middle and green as the lowest colour is obviously wrong, and is inexplicable if we did not know how facts were cut square with theories in old days.

In the next extract Bartholomew's account of the spirits animating man is quoted at length. It gives us the mediaeval theory as to the means by which life, motion, and knowledge were shown in the body. Every reader of Shakespeare or Chaucer becomes familiar with the vital, animal, and natural spirits. They were supposed to communicate with all parts of the body by means of the arteries or wosen, "the nimble spirits in their arteries," and the sinews or nerves. The word sinew, by the way, is exactly equal to our word nerve, and ayenward, as our author would say. Hamlet, when he bursts from his friends, explains his vigour by the rush of the spirit into the arteries, which makes

"Each petty artery of this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve."

The natural spirit is generated in the liver, the seat of digestion, "there where our nourishment is administered"; it then passes to the heart, and manifests itself as the spirit of life; from thence it passes to the brain, where it is the animal spirit--"spirit animate" Rossetti calls it--dwelling in the brain.

In the brain there are three ventricles or chambers, the _foremost_ being the "cell fantastike" of the "Knight's Tale," the second the logistic, and the third the chamber of memory, where "memory, the warder of the brain," keeps watch over the passage of the spirit into the "sinews" of moving. Into the foremost cell come all the perceptions of sight, hearing, etc., and thus we have the opportunity for

"Fantasy, That plays upon our eyesight,"

to freak it on us. The pedant, Holofernes, in _Love's Labour's Lost,_ characteristically puts the origin of his good things in the ventricle of memory.

As a specimen of the physical science of the time the Editor gives extracts from the chapter on light.

The introduction of extracts enough to give some idea of the mediaeval astronomy would have made such large demands on the patience of the reader that the Editor has decided with some regret to omit them altogether. The universe is considered to be a sphere, whose centre is the earth and whose circumference revolved about two fixed points. Our author does not decide the nice point in dispute between the philosophers and the theologians, the former holding that there is only one, the latter insisting on seven heavens-the fairy, ethereal, olympian, fiery, firmament, watery, and empyrean.

The firmament, that

"Majestical roof, fretted with golden fire,"

is the part of heaven in which the planets move. It carries them round with it; it governs the tides; it stood with men for the type of irresistible regularity. Each of the planets naturally has a motion of its own, contrary in direction to that of the firmament, which was from east to west. All the fixed stars move in circles whose centre is the centre of the universe, but the courses of the planets (among which the moon is reckoned) depend on other circles, called eccentric, since their centre is elsewhere. Either the centre or the circumference of the circle in which the planet really moves is applied to the circumference of the eccentric circle, and in this way all the movements of the planets are fully explained. Our author is sorely puzzled to account for the existence of the watery heavens above the fiery, they being cold and moist, but is sure from scriptural reasons that they are there, and ventures the hypothesis that their presence may account for the sluggish and evil properties of Saturn, the planet whose circle is nearest them.

Having considered the simpler substances, those composed of pure elemental forms, and those resembling them--the meteors--we turn to the perfect compounds, those which have assumed substantial forms, as metals, stones, etc. Our author retains the Aristotelian classification--earthy, and those of other origin, as beasts, roots, and trees. Earths may be metals or fossils; metals being defined as hard bodies, generated in the earth or in its veins, which can be beaten out by a hammer, and softened or liquefied by heat; while fossils include all other inanimate objects.

A large number of extracts have been made from this part of the subject, because the book gives the position of positive, as distinguished from speculative, Alchemy at the time. It is the Editor's desire to show that at this period there was a system of theory based on the practical knowledge of the day.

Chemistry took its rise as a science about four hundred years before our era. In the fragments of two of the four books of Democritus we have probably the earliest treatise on chemical matters we are ever likely to get hold of. Whether it is the work of Democritus or of a much later writer is uncertain. But merely taking it as a representative work of the early stage of chemistry, we remark that the receipts are practicable, and some of them, little modified, are in use to-day in goldsmith's shops. The fragments remaining to us are on the manufacture of gold and silver, and one receipt for dyeing purple. In this state of the science the collection of facts is the chief point, and no purely chemical theory seems to have been formed. Tradition, confirmed by the latest researches, associates this stage with Egypt.

The second stage in the history of Chemistry--the birth of Alchemy in the Western World--occurred when the Egyptian practical receipts, the neo-Greek philosophies, and the Chinese dreams of an "elixir vitae" were fused into one by the Arab and Syriac writers. Its period of activity ranges from the seventh to the tenth centuries. Little is really known about it, or can be, until the Arabic texts, which are abundant in Europe, are translated and classified both from the scholar's and the chemist's standpoint. Many works were translated into Latin about the end of the tenth century, such as the spurious fourth book of the _Meteorics of Aristotle_, the treatises of the _Turta Philosophorum_, _Artis Auriferae_, etc., which formed the starting-point of European speculation. The theoretical chemistry of our author is derived from them.

The third stage of chemistry begins with the fourteenth and ends with the sixteenth century. It is characterized by an immense growth of theory, a fertile imagination, and untiring industry. It reached its height in England about 1440, and is represented by the reputed works of Lully (vixit circ. 1300), which first appeared about this date. In this period practical alchemy is on its trial.

The fourth stage begins with Boyle, and closes with the eighteenth century. Still under the dominion of theoretical alchemy, practical alchemy was rejected by it, and its interest was concentrated on the collection of facts. It led up to modern chemistry, which begins with Lavoisier, and the introduction of the balance in the study of chemical change.

Chemical theory, then, in our author's time stood somewhat thus. Metals as regarded their elemental composition were considered to partake of the nature of earth, water, and air, in various proportions. Fossils, or those things generated in the earth which were not metals, were again subdivided into two classes--those which liquefy on being heated, as sulphur, nitre, etc., and those which do not. The metals were considered to be composed of sulphur and mercury. These substances are themselves compounds, but they act as elements in the composition of metals. Sulphur represented their combustible aspect, and also that which gave them their solid form; while mercury was that to which their weight and powers of becoming fluid were due.

This theory was due to two main facts. Most ores of metals, especially of copper and lead, contain much sulphur, which can be either obtained pure from them, or be recognised by its smell when burning. This gave rise to the sulphur theory, while the presence of mercury was inferred doubtless from the resemblance of the more commonly molten metals, silver, tin, and lead, to quicksilver. The properties of each metal were then put down to the presence of these substances. The list of seven metals is that of the most ancient times--gold, electrum, silver, copper, tin, lead, iron; but it is clearly recognised that electrum is an alloy of gold and silver.

Most of the facts in this book are derived from Pliny through Isidore, but, that the theory is Arab in origin, one fact alone would convince us. A consideration of the composition of the metals shows us that tin is nearest in properties of all metals to the precious ones, but tin is precisely the metal chosen by Arab alchemists as a starting-point in the Chrysopoeia.

Beside their scientific interest these passages have supplied many analogies. When Troilus is piling up his lover's oaths to Cressida, his final words are:

"As iron to adamant, as earth to centre;"

our chapter on the adamant supplies the origin of this allusion in part, astronomy gives the other. Diamonds are still, unfortunately, the precious stones of reconciliation and of love our author bespeaks them. The editor has not lengthened the chapter by extracts giving the occult properties of gems, and has contented himself by quoting from the chapter on glass a new simile and an old story.

Matter and form are principles of all bodily things; and privation of matter and form is naught else but destruction of all things. And the more subtle and high matter is in kind, the more able it is to receive form and shape. And the more thick and earthly it is, the more feeble is it to receive impression, printing of forms and of shapes. And matter is principle and beginning of distinction, and of diversity, and of multiplying, and of things that are gendered. For the thing that gendereth and the thing that is gendered are not diverse but touching matter. And therefore where a thing is gendered without matter, the thing that gendereth, and the thing that is gendered, are all one in substance and in kind: as it fareth of the persons in the Trinity. Of form is diversity, by the which one thing is diverse from another, and some form is essential, and some accidental. Essential form is that which cometh into matter, and maketh it perfect; and accordeth therewith to the perfection of some thing. And when form is had, then the thing hath its being, and when form is destroyed nothing of the substance of the thing is found. And form accidental is not the perfection of things, nor giveth them being. But each form accidental needeth a form substantial. And each form is more simple and more actual and noble than matter. And so the form asketh that shall be printed in the matter, the matter ought to be disposed and also arrayed. For if fire shall be made of matter of earth, it needeth that the matter of earth be made subtle and pured and more simple. Form maketh matter known. Matter is cause that we see things that are made, and so nothing is more common and general than matter. And natheless nothing is more unknown than is matter; for matter is never seen without form, nor form may not be seen in deed, but joined to matter.

Elements are simple, and the least particles of a body that is compound. And it is called least touching us, for it is not perceived by wits of feeling. For it is the least part and last in undoing of the body, as it is first in composition. And is called simple, not for an element is simple without any composition, but for it hath no parts that compound it, that be diverse in kind and in number as some medlied bodies have: as it fareth in metals of the which some parts be diverse; for some part is air, and some is earth. But each part of fire is fire, and so of others. Elements are four, and so there are four qualities of elements, of the which every body is composed and made as of matter. The four elements are Earth, Water, Fire, and Air, of the which each hath his proper qualities. Four be called the first and principal qualities, that is, hot, cold, dry, and moist: they are called the first qualities because they slide first from the elements into the things that be made of elements. Two of these qualities are called Active--heat and coldness. The others are dry and wetness and are called Passive.

The Rainbow is impression gendered in an hollow cloud and dewy, disposed to rain in endless many gutters, as it were shining in a mirror, and is shapen as a bow, and sheweth divers colours, and is gendered by the beams of the sun or of the moon. And is but seldom gendered by beams of the moon, no more but twice in fifty years, as Aristotle saith. In the rainbow by cause of its clearness be seen divers forms, kinds, and shapes that be contrary. Therefore the bow seemeth coloured, for, as Bede saith, it taketh colour of the four elements. For therein, as it were in any mirror, shineth figures and shapes and kinds of elements. For of fire he taketh red colour in the overmost part, and of earth green in the nethermost, and of the air a manner of brown colour, and of water somedeal blue in the middle. And first is red colour, that cometh out of a light beam, that touches the outer part of the roundness of the cloud: then is a middle colour somedeal blue, as the quality asketh, that hath mastery in the vapour, that is in the middle of the cloud. Then the nethermost seemeth a green colour in the nether part of a cloud; there the vapour is more earthly. And these colours are more principal than others.

As Beda saith, and the master of stories, forty years tofore the doom, the rainbow shall not be seen, and that shall be token of drying, and of default of elements.

And though dew be a manner of airy substance, and most subtle outward, natheless in a wonder manner it is strong in working and virtue. For it besprinkleth the earth, and maketh it plenteous, and maketh flour, pith, and marrow increase in corn and grains: and fatteth and bringeth forth broad oysters and other shell fish in the sea, and namely dew of spring time. For by night in spring time oysters open themselves against dew, and receive dew that cometh in between the two shells, and hold and keep it; and that dew so holden and kept feedeth the flesh, and maketh it fat; and by its incorporation with the inner parts of the fish breedeth a full precious gem, a stone that is called Margarita. Also the birds of ravens, while they are whitish in feathers, ere they are black, dew feedeth and sustaineth them, as Gregory saith.

Fumosities that are drawn out of the waters and off the earth by strength of heat of heaven are drawn to the nethermost part of the middle space of the air, and there by coldness of the place they are made thick, and then by heat dissolving and departing the moisture thereof and not wasting all, these fumosities are resolved and fall and turn into rain and showers.

If rain be temperate in quality and quantity, and agreeable to the time, it is profitable to infinite things. For rain maketh the land to bear fruit, and joineth it together, if there be many chines therein, and assuageth and tempereth strength of heat, and cleareth the air, and ceaseth and stinteth winds, and fatteth fish, and helpeth and comforteth dry complexion. And if rain be evil and distemperate in its qualities, and discording to place and time, it is grievous and noyful to many things. For it maketh deepness and uncleanness and slipperiness in ways and in paths, and bringeth forth much unprofitable herbs and grass, and corrupteth and destroyeth fruit and seeds, and quencheth in seeds the natural heat, and maketh darkness and thickness in the air, and taketh from us the sun beams, and gathereth mist and clouds, and letteth the work of labouring men, and tarrieth and letteth ripening of corn and of fruits, and exciteth rheum and running flux, and increaseth and strengtheneth all moist ills, and is cause of hunger and of famine, and of corruption and murrain of beasts and sheep; for corrupt showers do corrupt the grass and herbs of pasture, whereof cometh needful corruption of beasts.

Of impressions that are gendered in the air of double vapour, the first is thunder, the which impression is gendered in watery substance of a cloud. For moving and shaking hither and thither of hot vapour and dry, that fleeth its contrary, is beset and constrained in every side, and smit into itself, and is thereby set on fire and on flame, and quencheth itself at last in the cloud, as Aristotle saith. When a storm of full strong winds cometh in to the clouds, and the whirling wind and the storm increaseth, and seeketh out passage: it cleaveth and breaketh the cloud, and falleth out with a great rese and strong, and all to breaketh the parts of the cloud, and so it cometh to the ears of men and of beasts with horrible and dreadful breaking and noise. And that is no wonder: for though a bladder be light, yet it maketh great noise and sound, if it be strongly blown, and afterward violently broken. And with the thunder cometh lightning, but lightning is sooner seen, for it is clear and bright; and thunder cometh later to our ears, for the wit of sight is more subtle than the wit of hearing. As a man seeth sooner the stroke of a man that heweth a tree, than he heareth the noise of the stroke.

The lightning which is called Clarum is of a wonderful kind, for it catcheth and draweth up wine out of the tuns, and toucheth not the vessel, and melteth gold and silver in purses, and melteth not the purse.