The Chemistry of Alchemy Page 4

  Secret or not, the technical treatise had an audience. To the knowledge of materials imported from the Greeks, Rhazes added sal ammoniac (ammonium chloride), ammonia, acids, borax, and more. He presented systematic lists of these materials, equipment, and procedures for making a range of products, but he did not include the product gold. In Secrets, he subscribed to the sulfur/mercury theory of the Jabirians, adding there may be a third, salty component (an idea that would crop up again in later alchemy) and believed transmutation was an interesting idea, but difficult, and did not focus on metallic transmutation as an ultimate goal. Other authors, such as Abū Alī Al-Husayn ibn Abdallāh ibn Sīnā, took this reticence a step further.

  AVICENNA

  Born in the region now known as the Republic of Uzbekistan, but then part of Persia, Ibn Sīnā would soon be known in western Europe as Avicenna. Avicenna's lifetime encompassed the turn of the eleventh century, still somewhat contemporary with the Jabirians, so we include him in the school of Islamic authors that gave the name to alchemy13—but he did not give his blessing.

  Also a physician, and accepted as a medical authority in Europe for hundreds of years, Avicenna wrote prolifically in many areas of knowledge and created a four-part encyclopedia called The Cure [of Ignorance]. In The Cure, Avicenna accepts the sulfur/mercury description of metals and attributes the different properties of metals to the purity of their ingredients: very pure sulfur and mercury will form gold, but contaminated sulfur and mercury form only the weaker metals, such as iron and lead. Nonetheless, nature forms these metals, not humans. From his writings it appears he may have tried some experiments in transmutation, but his verdict was negative. Avicenna admitted the artisans made good imitations of gold, but never the real thing. He then demurred from examining the topic further, saying it would be a waste of time—and from this statement we draw our conclusion: the power of the Islamic authors was not so much in what they said, but what they represented. Hope. They gave a reasonable explanation of the makeup of metals, and, although none said they performed it, they opened the door to transmutation and alchemists climbed in. The Jabirians remain the heroes of this chapter because the Jabirians not only offered the idea of transmutation, they also authored a plan of action. To the edifice of alchemy, the Jabirians added another story: the philosophers’ stone.

  It seems that along with Aristotle, Zosimos, and Mary the Jew, the Islamic translators also imported Galen, the ancient-world-famous authority on medicine and healing. Galen had identified four humors in the body—blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile—and practiced his art by recognizing imbalances in these humors and suggesting ways to correct the imbalance. In a similar manner, the Jabirians added natures to the sulfur/mercury description of metals, these natures being coldness, heat, dryness, and moisture. Metals that melt readily were seen as moist; high-melting-point metals were dry. Soft metals were moist, and brittle metals dry. Thinking in terms of Galen, the Jabirians reasoned if good health required a balance between humors, and balance was achieved by administration of medicines containing the underrepresented humor, then metals that were not gold had defects and impurities—illness, as it were—that could be treated by correcting the imbalance. Find the right medicine, the Jabirians proposed, find the elixir, and metals could be cured of their imperfections and transmutations performed. The greatest of the elixirs would be made from the most highly refined materials—the most purified, distilled, filtered, calcined, and concentrated—and would be capable of making the perfect metal: gold. Transported to western Europe, this elixir would become the famous philosophers’ stone.14 They had it on good authority.

  So now, thundering into an information-hungry West would come Latin translations of Islamic authors with ideas for new medicines, new navigational tools, new math—and alchemy—translated by Jews and Moors and other denizens of both worlds. In western Europe the Latins learned of an erudite Islamic empire that found the idea of transmutation plausible and hinted at methods for its realization, so the Europeans took off for transmutation, full steam ahead.

  To be sure, the translators also included methods for assaying gold,15 an indication that the Islamic authors knew real gold when they saw it, and none of the authors claimed transmutation was achieved, only imagined…

  But in western Europe, that news got lost in translation.

  Next destination: Europe. But first let's look through an Islamic author's eyes.

  DEMONSTRATION 2. THE MERCURY/SULFUR MAKEUP OF METALS

  We need to say from the onset that all pure metals are in fact elements and cannot be broken down into simpler substances by chemical means. But the Islamic authors told the alchemists otherwise, and their own experience told them otherwise, so to alchemists, the mercury/sulfur description of metals made sense: all metals, they reasoned, have some mercury and some sulfur. The sulfur we would call pure sulfur (the kind you can buy in the drugstore) they would say has mostly sulfur because it is yellow, powdery, and so on. Pure mercury, the quicksilver of thermometers, they would say has mostly mercury but has to have a little sulfur, too.

  Why were they so convinced? For one reason, metals in metal ore are not in a metallic state. They are compounds, that is, in combination with other elements. Ores have to undergo a process known as smelting to extract the metal, or, in the alchemists’ eyes, the action of fire drew a mercury (molten metal) from the ore and the remaining earthy slag (the rest of the ore) was a type of impure sulfur. So, for the alchemist, the mercury/sulfur description of matter was a reasonable starting point, a conceptual framework upon which to build stratagems for transmutation. In this demonstration we will see further examples of phenomena alchemists saw as support for the mercury/sulfur description of metals.

  But first, one further clarification: because of the health concerns associated with mercury, we will not be using mercury, and, in fact, nowhere in this book will we use mercury in any demonstration. For those who have gone through life without seeing mercury (which, given the present consciousness, is quite a few), it might be a good idea to buy or just look at an inexpensive, transparent mercury switch, which should have a dollop of mercury rolling around in it. Alternatively, search the Internet for a video showing mercury and its interesting properties. It's worth it.

  We know some aficionados will protest: How can you do alchemy without mercury? As it turns out, of course, we will be limited in the number of reactions we can demonstrate, given our prohibition on mercury, but not as limited as one might think. There are a couple of reasons for this. The first is that the alchemists used “mercury” to describe any molten metal. When the alchemists said “mercury” they didn't necessarily mean the pure element we now call mercury. The term quicksilver was sometimes used to indicate the liquid-metal pure element we know and love, but the term mercury could mean just molten metal. So when an alchemical recipe called for “the mercury of Jupiter,” it sounds like the recipe is calling for mercury, but Jupiter was the planet assigned to tin, so “the mercury of Jupiter” actually meant melted tin.

  Another reason mercury might not be necessary has its origins in the mercury/sulfur theory itself. Because the theory assumes everything is made of a mercury and a sulfur, some alchemists would throw a little mercury into all their reactions. This addition wouldn't necessarily make a difference because true liquid-mercury metal is quite volatile (which is one of the health concerns associated with mercury), so excess mercury, mercury that did not react, would simply float away, especially during prolonged heating. If this happened, the alchemists might not realize it wasn't necessary unless they tried the reaction without it. Pamela Smith (in Secrets and Knowledge in Medicine and Science) cites a recipe by Cennino Cennini for a pigment called “mosaic gold” that calls for mercury, but in fact the mercury wasn't necessary. According to Smith, Cennini's recipe recommended, “sal ammoniac, tin, sulfur, quicksilver, in equal parts; except less of the quicksilver.”16

  So in the demonstration that follows, you will investigate the me
rcury/sulfur theory, except with less of the mercury.

  DISPOSAL

  Keep the solidified tin metal because it is reusable. The sulfur residue can be rinsed down the sink, but be sure to follow it (and all chemicals) with a long flush with cool water (two to three minutes).

  MERCURY

  Put on your safety glasses. (Have you read “X-Rated Alchemy”? Yes? Good.)

  Turn on the stove exhaust fan and then place your cast-iron skillet on the stove at 70 percent power. Put about a teaspoon (5 milliliters) of tin shot in a beaker and put the beaker in the skillet. The tin shot can be purchased over the Internet (as described in “Stores and Ores”), just make sure it is pure tin. We will need this tin for several demonstrations, so it is worth the purchase. Ten to twenty-five grams should be plenty for the demonstrations we will do here, but buy more if you think you'll want to repeat some.

  Be patient and watch. The melting point of tin is about 450°F (230°C), well within range of a standard stove. After about a minute you should see the surface of the tin get shiny and start to look moist. If this does not happen within a minute or two, you may have to adjust your heat higher. Using oven mitts, you can gently swirl the beaker to bring the tin pieces together. When the tin melts, it suddenly looks and acts somewhat like the mercury you saw in the mercury switch or online videos. As soon as it melts and you've seen it flow, pick up the beaker and tip it slightly so the tin forms an elongated pool on one side and then hold the beaker, still slightly tipped and still under the exhaust fan, while the tin cools. Turn off the burner under the skillet.

  When the tin looks somewhat hardened, place the beaker on a heat-resistant surface and allow it to cool for at least another fifteen minutes.

  We asked you to remove the tin from the burner as soon as you'd seen it flow because prolonged heating will cause the surface to react with oxygen in the air and ruin a future demonstration. In fact, you will probably notice a few darkened, crusty places on the tin where oxidation has started. We now know the crust is formed by oxygen joining with the tin, but the alchemists saw this as the tin's “sulfur” coming out.

  Once the tin has cooled sufficiently (at least fifteen minutes after you take it off the burner), put on work gloves and use the screwdriver we suggested for purchase in “Stores and Ores” to pry off the solidified puddle. This takes some patience, but once you free an edge, the rest of the tin will peel away.

  When you have your piece of tin out of the beaker, hold it to your ear and bend it back and forth. You should be able to hear the tin “cry,” also known as the tin creak, though you may have to be in a quiet environment to hear it clearly. This sound is believed to be caused by microcrystalline structures within the solid tin; however, the alchemists could not have known this, and for them the cry of tin was evidence of the lifelike characteristics of metals.17 The alchemists believed if they could cure tin of its “flabbiness and cry and blackness and odor,”18 it would be silver.

  SULFUR

  Real sulfur—not the alchemists’ sulfur, which was any volatile, flammable solid, but the element sulfur, found on the periodic table—is always yellow. Except when it's red. Or when it's blue. Or when it's invisible.

  Before you begin any of these experiments with sulfur, make sure you are able to work outdoors with a hibachi that has an adjustable grill height for a heat source. Many people are allergic to sulfur, so if you don't know if you're allergic or not, assume you are and work with a friend nearby. Wear gloves and, of course, safety glasses, and, if you wish, a particle mask. If you think you're having an allergic reaction (itching, swelling, trouble breathing, or headache), stop and remove yourself from the area. Get a friend who is not allergic to sulfur to help with the cleanup.

  Before you start working with sulfur, light the hibachi, following the manufacturer's instructions and safety precautions, and make certain any starter fluid has burned away and the charcoal has settled into a nice, ashy glow.

  The sulfur you bought for this experiment is a yellow powder, which is what we expect for sulfur. But if you heat a melted sample of this sulfur, it will turn red. The best way to see this is with a beaker that can withstand heating on a hibachi grill. Standard kitchen glassware is not intended to be placed on a grill or on a burner where the heat can be unevenly distributed, so in “Stores and Ores,” we suggest you get a Pyrex beaker from a school-supply or a lab-supply store, or off the Internet, and you must use this type of heat-resistant beaker for this demonstration.

  Sulfur melts at a medium-high temperature, so, to begin with, put the hibachi on the middle level. Put about a tablespoon (15 milliliters) of sulfur in your beaker and set it in your cast-iron skillet on the hibachi. The skillet acts as a surface for the beaker so it can heat evenly and acts as a catch pan for any spills.

  You do not need to stir the sulfur. After several minutes you should have red, melted sulfur. If the sulfur does not melt after a few minutes, remove the pan with the sulfur, don oven mitts to adjust the grill height down, and try again. Once it melts, do not allow the sulfur to boil. Remove the pan with the sulfur and allow it to cool on a heat-resistant surface.

  When is sulfur blue? When it burns.

  Sulfur burns with a bright-blue flame that is lovely to see, but unfortunately the combustion produces airborne acids and pollutants, so we can't use it as a demonstration. We found, however, several excellent videos on the Internet that show the reaction, and they are worth the search. It's beautiful.

  When is sulfur invisible? To find out, get the 125-milliliter Erlenmeyer flask we suggested for purchase in “Stores and Ores” and wash and dry it. Light your hibachi as above and set the grill on the highest level. If you had to adjust the height down to melt the sulfur in the previous demonstration, start with the grill in the middle position. You want to warm the sulfur very gently, so don't use a lot of charcoal; wait until the coals have a nice, mellow glow. If the heat is too high, the sulfur will melt and turn red, and you have to start over.

  Put some sulfur in the flask, set the flask in the cast-iron skillet, and put the skillet on the hibachi. Once the flask is in the skillet on the hibachi, balance a clean watch glass (see “Stores and Ores”) on the top of the flask to act as a lid. It may take an hour, but eventually you should see some sulfur accumulate on the sides of the flask. Remove the watch glass and look at the bottom of the watch glass. There should be a nice, yellow film of sulfur.

  The sulfur on the watch glass or the side of the flask is sublimed sulfur. Indeed, your bottle of sulfur may have the words sublimed sulfur as part of its product description because sublimation is a common way to purify sulfur. When something sublimes, is goes directly from the solid phase into the gas phase and then often redeposits, as the sulfur is doing on the side of the flask and on the watch glass. The alchemists used sublimation routinely because it was their belief materials had to be in the purest form possible for use in transmutation, and sublimation is a type of purification. The Islamic authors were fascinated with the process because, as far as they knew, the sulfur started out in one place (the bottom of the flask), disappeared, and then reappeared in another place (the sides of the flask).

  Invisible teleportation!

  And next, we teleport, too. To western Europe.

  Inferno from a 1487 printing of Dante's Divine Comedy. (Image from Devils, Demons, and Witchcraft, by Ernst Lehner and Johanna Lehner [New York: Dover, 1971].)

  When the western Roman Empire collapsed, the Roman Catholic Church rushed in to fill the organizational void. The Church, aware of its tenuous hold, looked to its borders and decided to learn more about the surrounding civilizations. Accordingly, in the early centuries of the second millennium, under the auspices of the Church, communities of translators translated works on mathematics, navigation, commerce, medicine, agriculture, optics, physics, and biology from Arabic and Hebrew to Latin. Along with this erudite assembly came Aristotelian philosophy and a new player—alchemy—but at first few grabbed the alchemical banner and ch
arged. The western Europeans accepted advice on mathematics and navigation from the infidel, but they were comfortable with their Christianity and on matters of philosophy, they weren't so sure they needed more. They had practical artisans in the form of metallurgists, potters, and painters, so they weren't sure what to do with alchemy either. In addition, some two thousand years from the times of Abraham, one thousand years since the beginning of the Christian era, and almost four hundred years since Muhammad's revelations, Jews had Judaism, Arabs had Islam, Latins had Christianity, and all three religions were monotheistic; founded on community, good works, and charity; and at each other's throats. The Roman Church knew it must regard the new ideas, but it regarded them with suspicion.

  The social structure of feudalism created a class of purposeless knights, second sons of feudal lords, young, privileged, and armed for warfare with no war to fight. They turned on each other in pointless raids that destroyed possessions and crops and killed, maimed, and tortured the workforce, the peasantry. The Crusades came to the rescue, occupying this restless youth with pointless raids on Islam, beginning in the year 1095. These activities broadened the breach in geniality with the Islamic empire alluded to above.

  Therefore we take up our tale in the middle of the thirteenth century. Until then, the Islamic authors were under condemnations by the Church, though the condemnations were gradually, cautiously ignored. Sensing the shift, the Church came up with the idea of backing the translators with commentators, scholars of the Church charged with paraphrasing the translated works to make them more compatible with Church doctrine. The task fell to a new breed of churchmen, the friars, initially formed under another pressure, the impulse to return to the simpler, basic teachings of Jesus. Although suspicious to begin with, the Church eventually accepted, absorbed, and employed the friars as commentators, teachers, and judges of the Inquisition. The commentators read and commented on alchemy, so by the mid-thirteenth century we can finally call our heroes alchemists, but we can't find many heroes to call. Of the two phenomena, alchemy and Inquisition, the last one kept the first one quiet. The alchemists waited for the judgment from the Church, and the Church waited for the commentators to tidy up Aristotle.