Paracelsus (1493-1541.)
§ 46. That erratic genius, Paracelsus—or, to give him his correct name, Philip (?) Aureole (?) Theophrast Bombast von Hohenheim—whose portrait forms the [frontispiece] to the present work—was born at Einsiedeln in Switzerland in 1493. He studied the alchemistic and medical arts under his father, who was a physician, and continued his studies later at the University of Basle. He also gave some time to the study of magic and the occult sciences under the famous Trithemius of Spanheim. Paracelsus, however, found the merely theoretical “book learning” of the university curriculum unsatisfactory and betook himself to the mines, where he might study the nature of metals at first hand. He then spent several years in travelling, visiting some of the chief countries of Europe. At last he returned to Basle, the chair of Medical Science of his old university being bestowed upon him. The works of Isaac of Holland had inspired him with the desire to improve upon the medical science of his day, and in his lectures (which were, contrary to the usual custom, delivered not in Latin, but in the German language) he denounced in violent terms the teachings of Galen and Avicenna, who were until then the accredited authorities on medical matters. His use of the German tongue, his coarseness in criticism and his intense self-esteem, combined with the fact that he did lay bare many of the medical follies and frauds of his day, brought him into very general dislike with the rest of the physicians, and the municipal authorities siding with the aggrieved apothecaries and physicians, whose methods Paracelsus had exposed, he fled from Basle and resumed his former roving life. He was, so we are told, a man of very intemperate habits, being seldom sober (a statement seriously open to doubt); but on the other hand, he certainly accomplished a very large number of most remarkable cures, and, judging from his writings, he was inspired by lofty and noble ideals and a fervent belief in the Christian religion. He died in 1541.
Paracelsus combined in himself such opposite characteristics that it is a matter of difficulty to criticise him aright. As says Professor Ferguson: “It is most difficult . . . to ascertain what his true character really was, to appreciate aright this man of fervid imagination, of powerful and persistent conviction, of unbated honesty and love of truth, of keen insight into the errors (as he thought them) of his time, of a merciless will to lay bare these errors and to reform the abuses to which they gave rise, who in an instant offends by his boasting, his grossness, his want of self-respect. It is a problem how to reconcile his ignorance, his weakness, his superstition, his crude notions, his erroneous observations, his ridiculous inferences and theories, with his grasp of method, his lofty views of the true scope of medicine, his lucid statements, his incisive and epigrammatic criticisms of men and motives.”[62] It is also a problem of considerable difficulty to determine which of the many books attributed to him are really his genuine works, and consequently what his views on certain points exactly were.
[62] John Ferguson, M.A.: Article “Paracelsus,” Encyclopædia Britannica, 9th edition (1885), vol. xviii. p. 236.
Views of Paracelsus.
§ 47. Paracelsus was the first to recognise the desirability of investigating the physical universe with a motive other than alchemistic. He taught that “the object of chemistry is not to make gold, but to prepare medicines,” and founded the school of Iatro-chemistry or Medical Chemistry. This synthesis of chemistry with medicine was of very great benefit to each science; new possibilities of chemical investigation were opened up now that the aim was not purely alchemistic. Paracelsus’s central theory was that of the analogy between man, the microcosm, and the world or macrocosm. He regarded all the actions that go on in the human body as of a chemical nature, and he thought that illness was the result of a disproportion in the body between the quantities of the three great principles—sulphur, mercury, and salt—which he regarded as constituting all things; for example, he considered an excess of sulphur as the cause of fever, since sulphur was the fiery principle, &c. The basis of the iatro-chemical doctrines, namely, that the healthy human body is a particular combination of chemical substances: illness the result of some change in this combination, and hence curable only by chemical medicines, expresses a certain truth, and is undoubtedly a great improvement upon the ideas of the ancients. But in the elaboration of his medical doctrines Paracelsus fell a prey to exaggeration and the fantastic, and many of his theories appear to be highly ridiculous. This extravagance is also very pronounced in the alchemistic works attributed to him; for example, the belief in the artificial creation of minute living creatures resembling men (called “homunculi”)—a belief of the utmost absurdity, if we are to understand it literally. On the other hand, his writings do contain much true teaching of a mystical nature; his doctrine of the correspondence of man with the universe considered as a whole, for example, certainly being radically true, though fantastically stated and developed by Paracelsus himself.
Iatro-Chemistry.
§ 48. Between the pupils of Paracelsus and the older school of medicine, as might well be supposed, a battle royal was waged for a considerable time, which ultimately concluded, if not with a full vindication of Paracelsus’s teaching, yet with the acceptance of the fundamental iatro-chemical doctrines. Henceforward it is necessary to distinguish between the chemists and the alchemists—to distinguish those who pursued chemical studies with the object of discovering and preparing useful medicines, and later those who pursued such studies for their own sake, from those whose object was the transmutation of the “base” metals into gold, whether from purely selfish motives, or with the desire to demonstrate on the physical plane the validity of the doctrines of Mysticism. However, during the following century or two we find, very often, the chemist and the alchemist united in one and the same person. Men such as Glauber and Boyle, whose names will ever be remembered by chemists, did not doubt the possibility of performing the magnum opus. In the present chapter, however, we shall confine our attention for the most part to those men who may be regarded, for one reason or another, particularly as alchemists. And the alchemists of the period we are now considering present a very great diversity. On the one hand, we have men of much chemical knowledge and skill such as Libavius and van Helmont, on the other hand we have those who stand equally as high as exponents of mystic wisdom—men such as Jacob Boehme and, to a less extent, Thomas Vaughan. We have those, who, although they did not enrich the science of Chemistry with any new discoveries, were, nevertheless, regarded as masters of the Hermetic Art; and, finally, we have alchemists of the Edward Kelley and “Cagliostro” type, whose main object was their own enrichment at their neighbours’ expense. Before, however, proceeding to an account of the lives and teachings of these men, there is one curious matter—perhaps the most remarkable of all historical curiosities—that calls for some brief consideration. We refer to the “far-famed” Rosicrucian Society.