world that did most to keep its practice alive during the early Middle Ages. But the Arabs took the word from the Greek word
chemeia
when they occupied Alexandria in the seventh century. And
chemeia
, which is also the origin of the word “chemistry,” meant “those who have knowledge of the Egyptian arts.” As usual with the quest for immortality, all roads lead back to the Nile.
In China at the time of the First Emperor, alchemy was a vital part of the prevalent religious-philosophical system: Taoism. Its practitioners developed life-extension techniques that are now, over two thousand years later, continuing to prosper: meditation, breathing exercises, the gentle gymnastics of tai chi and qigong, and the consumption of tea, ginseng and many other herbs and minerals. One of its core texts, known as
The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon
, remains the central source for Chinese traditional medicine.
Until well into the Renaissance in Europe, there was nodistinction between chemistry and alchemy or scientist and wizard. What we now see as the rigors of the scientific method, the antithesis of all superstition, emerged only slowly from the alchemical quest for immortality. Many of the great figures at the dawn of the scientific age, such as Robert Boyle and even Sir Isaac Newton, were steeped in alchemical teachings—Newton himself saw his contributions to alchemy as more important than his discoveries in physics.
As the successes of the new evidence-based methods rapidly grew, faith in ancient wisdom and the occult eventually declined. If nature’s secrets were to be unlocked, it was through testing new theories against methodically acquired experimental data—not through deciphering old hieroglyphs. But although methods and cultures have evolved, the idea of an elixir survives, keeping countless researchers busy, and is being used to sell us everything from margarine to face cream.
But the modern, scientific versions of this quest, in abandoning their mythic past, have also lost a crucial aspect of the elixir legend: that it is not intended for everyone. Rather, like the Holy Grail, which was also credited with powers of healing and resurrection, it was available only to the wise and virtuous. Everlasting life had to be earned through hard work and good behavior: that was the deal, as it was these qualities that prevented civilization from collapsing into barbarism. In the very same legends that put immortality at the heart of advanced society, there are therefore also warnings that it is not for the foolish or fainthearted.
WHO WANTS TO LIVE FOREVER?
T HE Japanese tale of Xu Fu does not end with his ascension to the peaks of Mount Fuji; as guardian of the elixir, he could hardly expect to enjoy his peace undisturbed.
One day, a rich, idle young man called Sentaro decided to seek the elixir for himself, so he sought out a shrine to Xu Fu and prayed.At midnight on the seventh day, Xu Fu appeared to the young man. He judged him a selfish fool and so decided to set a test. He presented Sentaro with a tiny crane made of paper and announced that it would bring him to the land of perpetual life. When Sentaro mounted the crane it expanded to an enormous size, flapped its wings and lifted him into the air. They flew out to sea for thousands of miles before eventually landing on a remote island. The crane then folded itself up until it was once again tiny and flew into Sentaro’s pocket.
To the young man’s astonishment, the inhabitants of this island told him that no one ever died there and sickness was unknown. How blessed they must be, he thought. But to his greater surprise, the islanders begged Sentaro for some clue as to how they might find death. They were tired of their long, long lives. They had tried all the known poisons, but to no avail—the very deadliest of them had become wildly popular on the island simply because it turned their hair slightly gray and caused mild bellyache. Death, however, eluded
chemeia
when they occupied Alexandria in the seventh century. And
chemeia
, which is also the origin of the word “chemistry,” meant “those who have knowledge of the Egyptian arts.” As usual with the quest for immortality, all roads lead back to the Nile.
In China at the time of the First Emperor, alchemy was a vital part of the prevalent religious-philosophical system: Taoism. Its practitioners developed life-extension techniques that are now, over two thousand years later, continuing to prosper: meditation, breathing exercises, the gentle gymnastics of tai chi and qigong, and the consumption of tea, ginseng and many other herbs and minerals. One of its core texts, known as
The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon
, remains the central source for Chinese traditional medicine.
Until well into the Renaissance in Europe, there was nodistinction between chemistry and alchemy or scientist and wizard. What we now see as the rigors of the scientific method, the antithesis of all superstition, emerged only slowly from the alchemical quest for immortality. Many of the great figures at the dawn of the scientific age, such as Robert Boyle and even Sir Isaac Newton, were steeped in alchemical teachings—Newton himself saw his contributions to alchemy as more important than his discoveries in physics.
As the successes of the new evidence-based methods rapidly grew, faith in ancient wisdom and the occult eventually declined. If nature’s secrets were to be unlocked, it was through testing new theories against methodically acquired experimental data—not through deciphering old hieroglyphs. But although methods and cultures have evolved, the idea of an elixir survives, keeping countless researchers busy, and is being used to sell us everything from margarine to face cream.
But the modern, scientific versions of this quest, in abandoning their mythic past, have also lost a crucial aspect of the elixir legend: that it is not intended for everyone. Rather, like the Holy Grail, which was also credited with powers of healing and resurrection, it was available only to the wise and virtuous. Everlasting life had to be earned through hard work and good behavior: that was the deal, as it was these qualities that prevented civilization from collapsing into barbarism. In the very same legends that put immortality at the heart of advanced society, there are therefore also warnings that it is not for the foolish or fainthearted.
WHO WANTS TO LIVE FOREVER?
T HE Japanese tale of Xu Fu does not end with his ascension to the peaks of Mount Fuji; as guardian of the elixir, he could hardly expect to enjoy his peace undisturbed.
One day, a rich, idle young man called Sentaro decided to seek the elixir for himself, so he sought out a shrine to Xu Fu and prayed.At midnight on the seventh day, Xu Fu appeared to the young man. He judged him a selfish fool and so decided to set a test. He presented Sentaro with a tiny crane made of paper and announced that it would bring him to the land of perpetual life. When Sentaro mounted the crane it expanded to an enormous size, flapped its wings and lifted him into the air. They flew out to sea for thousands of miles before eventually landing on a remote island. The crane then folded itself up until it was once again tiny and flew into Sentaro’s pocket.
To the young man’s astonishment, the inhabitants of this island told him that no one ever died there and sickness was unknown. How blessed they must be, he thought. But to his greater surprise, the islanders begged Sentaro for some clue as to how they might find death. They were tired of their long, long lives. They had tried all the known poisons, but to no avail—the very deadliest of them had become wildly popular on the island simply because it turned their hair slightly gray and caused mild bellyache. Death, however, eluded
Similar Books
