Читать книгу Modern Alchemy and the Philosopher's Stone - Wilfried B. Holzapfel - Страница 9

Helen awoke unusually early the next morning. It was Wednesday and she had no classes until 11:00 a.m. On most Wednesday mornings, she caught up on any sleep she had missed during the early part of the week while preparing for a special homework assignment or major test. On this day, she found herself thinking about Professor Wood’s sculpting project. Clearly he had a well-defined prototype of the final product. But it would take a lot more work with the chainsaw or, more likely, a mallet and chisel to get from the smooth, reasonably symmetric column of wood that she had examined yesterday to the elaborate and detailed United States of the Elements that the much smaller model represented.

She also thought about how excited the professor was when she mentioned that she was interested in Philosophy. Modern alchemy, the professor had said. What could he possibly have meant by that?

Helen got out of bed and sat down at her computer. She entered the word alchemy into her search engine and chose the link to Wikipedia. She was immediately encouraged by the introductory references to Plato, Aristotle and other Greek philosophers that she had already encountered in her introductory philosophy course. Then she was intrigued by the notion that modern writers consider the practice of alchemy to have been comprised of two major divisions: one exoteric and the other esoteric.

Author’s note: Words and phrases that appear as underlined blue text contain hidden hyperlinks to Wikipedia entries. Following these links in the electronic version of the text will provide helpful insights to the topics indicated.

The article went on to explain that the exoteric, or external, aspects of alchemy are those that have led to the practical sciences of chemistry and physics today while the esoteric, or internal, aspects of alchemy are still of interest to today’s psychologists and philosophers. “Eureka,” Helen said to herself, grinning at her oblique reference to Archimedes. “There’s something for Marie and something for me! Maybe that is the ‘perfection’ that the professor alluded to when she told him that she was interested in philosophy.”

As Helen read the article further, she noted that the two divisions of alchemy were highly intertwined in the middle ages, the way that the two snakes of the physicians’ caduceus are entwined around a single “message,” even today. The message, in the case of the caduceus, is represented by the staff of Mercury, the messenger of the Gods. Could the professor be suggesting that “modern alchemy” is reuniting the disciplines of science and philosophy that have been largely separate since the Renaissance?

That evening Helen saw Marie in line at the cafeteria. Not wishing to appear to be cutting in ahead of others in line, she called out “Save me a seat at your table. I have something to discuss with you,” before taking her place at the end of the lane.

Once they were settled with their meal, Helen began, “I've been reading up a bit on alchemy.”

“Isn’t that all about trying to turn lead into gold,” Marie asked.

“Well, it’s that – but also quite a bit more. The Wikipedia article talks about a search for perfection. For metals, perfection is gold. But for people, as you might expect, perfection is quite complicated. Of course, perfection for people includes immortality.

The goals of alchemy include finding a preparation like the Philosopher’s Stone that can transform metals into gold.

“But for people, the perfection would have to come from some kind of inner enlightenment,” Helen explained. “I checked out several other sites on the web. They all point to a combination of external and internal paths to perfection. The external one led to the development of apparatus and procedures that are reflected in the scientific method that came about during the Renaissance. Many historians give credit to Galileo for that. The internal one is more spiritual and is reflected in several forms of religion that are still practiced today. The writings of Hermes Trismegistus were mentioned in this context.”

Marie was not sure she wanted to get into a heavy philosophical discussion right then. She needed to prepare for a test in physics the next day. A good grade on that test was about all the perfection she was hoping to achieve that week. “There was a footnote in my physics textbook that said that Isaac Newton had practiced alchemy long after he had written The Principia and proposed the Universal Law of Gravitation,” she said without responding directly to Helen’s remarks.

“Yes!” Helen exclaimed. “Newton’s laws certainly achieved a high degree of universality and perfection compared with other models of the solar system at the time.”

“They are still very useful today for most practical applications. One example might be the exam in mechanics that I have tomorrow,” Marie offered with a wry smile. “The concepts of inertia and the conservation of momentum must have seemed as mystical as some kind of Philosopher’s Stone to the early seventeenth-century scientists.”

“Did the footnote in your physics textbook mention the spiritual aspects of Newton’s pursuit of alchemy?” Helen asked excitedly.

“Not really, although someone in the class mentioned that Newton’s private notes, published after his death, showed he was critical of many dogmatic ideas of the Catholic Church – in addition to the one about Earth being the center of the universe, of course.” Marie had chosen a light meal and had eaten rapidly. “I really have to get back to prepare for the exam tomorrow. Perhaps we can continue this discussion tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good luck on the exam!” Helen called after her as Marie rose from the table.

The next afternoon, Marie was feeling good as she walked along Faculty Row on her way back to the dorm. She was confident that she had done well on the physics exam. The exam covered the first third of the course and was all about Newton’s three laws of motion. A body remains in the same state of motion unless acted upon by an external force. The concept of an object continuing to move indefinitely without any help from something or someone who “pushed” it was unimaginable to Newton’s predecessors. They were okay with the idea of having to apply a force to something to get it moving, but they could not envision the object continuing to move if the force were no longer in effect.

The philosophy of mechanics prior to Newton was completely dominated by the practitioners’ experience with friction. They simply had not recognized friction to be a force of its own. They were even less able to imagine that the friction arose from a number of interactions between the surface of an object and the surface upon which the object was either at rest or moving. They could not imagine “force at a distance” with no direct contact between the “pusher” and the “pushee.” And they certainly did not understand that the object that was slowing down after having been pushed or pulled along a surface such as a paved road was pushing on the road just as hard as the road was pushing on it. The object would exert an equal and opposite force, as Newton described it, on the road. Likewise, the road would exert a force on the ground that would keep the road from moving with respect to the observer. In fact, the transfer of force from the road to the ground would have an immeasurably small effect on the rotation of earth itself. Marie comforted herself with the knowledge that whatever effect this force would have on the rotation of the ground would be just the opposite effect from the force that had been exerted on the road and earth a few moments earlier when the experimenter, or the horse or whatever, had accelerated the object and got it moving in the first place.

“That old alchemist,” Marie mused to herself thinking of Newton in the light of her brief conversation with Helen the previous evening. “He was a pretty clever guy!”

She passed Professor Wood’s sculpture. The professor was not at work on his carving that afternoon, but he had made some progress on it. He had marked the surface with a spiral of ink that matched what Marie could recall of the model. The professor must have spent quite a bit of time getting the dimensions exactly correct. The conical surface added an extra measure of complexity to the geometry of the problem.

Marie’s exam had been confined to applications of Newton’s Laws in only two dimensions. She had been expected to compute the change in velocity of various things when forces were applied to them – all according to Newton’s Second Law of Motion. In one of the problems the sum of the forces turned out to be zero and the solution implied a state of static equilibrium. Marie smiled to herself as she continued on her way. She figured she could blow Helen away with that term!

When she arrived back to her dorm room, Marie decided to do a little reading of her own on the subject of alchemy. She wanted to be a bit more prepared than she had been before her physics exam for a philosophical discussion with Helen at dinner time. She was not surprised to find that her interests aligned more with the exoteric path of ancient thought.

Marie had been vaguely aware of the four “elements” that the ancient alchemists had identified: Earth, Water, Wind, and Fire. She had heard people refer to something as being a “quintessential” example of a class of similar concepts or objects, but she had never bothered to look up the definition of the word. She had never heard anyone use the word “quintessence” to describe a fifth, more basic – and in that sense more perfect – element. She found that the ancients literally regarded the “fifth essence,” or the fifth basic form of matter, to be the fundamental “stuff” from which the other four elements (and consequently, the whole world) could be formed. Marie was amazed by all that she found in the Wikipedia entry on alchemy and the other sites she visited.

Using her smart phone, Marie carefully bookmarked the references she had found and downloaded a number of illustrations. Here was something to discuss with Helen!

Helen had not yet arrived at the cafeteria when Marie had gone through the line and selected her food. She looked past the steam table of dubious-looking meats and overcooked vegetables to get a glimpse of the kitchen where several students, neatly clad in white chef’s jackets were fulfilling the obligations of their “meal jobs” by assisting the cooks in various ways. She watched as one of them brought a steaming tray of limp spinach through the wide, open door of the kitchen to replace the empty tray in front of her. She thought of the illustration of an alchemist’s “kitchen” that she had downloaded to show to Helen (Figure 2). She was not quite sure if she should be amused or horrified by the thoughts she was experiencing.