The Quintessence of Alchemy
INTERVIEW WITH A WORKING ALCHEMIST
INTERVIEW WITH A WORKING ALCHEMIST
This is an updated version of an article by Joseph Rowe, entitled “The Quintessence of Alchemy”, published in the summer 1996 issue of Gnosis magazine. All rights belong to the author, and any reproduction or distribution of it must be for exclusively non-commercial purposes.
The author may be contacted at: neoanimist@gmail.com
The original magazine, Gnosis Number 40, may be purchased at: http://www.fieldsbooks.com/cgi-bin/fields/GNO40.html
INTRODUCTION
François Trojani, the author of a number of dense, cryptic and very highly regarded articles on alchemy, is a far cry from most people’s image of an esotericist. Rotund, jovial, nonchalant, his accent immediately betrays his southern French origins — a speech and demeanor more evocative of languid afternoons in the sunshine, the smell of thyme, lavender and pastis on the terrace of a Mediterranean café, than of the intensity of the alchemical quest.
Hanging out at bookstores in Paris’s Latin Quarter, I had heard of François years before I met him. La Table d’Emeraude is one of the most prestigious esoteric bookstores in France, respected for its rare alchemical collections and publications. Talking to clients and personnel there, I was very interested by the comments and opinions I heard about esoteric subjects, so different from what I was used to hearing in similar American milieux. Almost within sight of the alchemical sculptures which abound on the walls of Notre Dame and the Tower of St. Jacques right across the Seine, I spoke with people who in various (and sometimes dubious) ways, aspired or claimed to be inheritors of one of the West’s most ancient esoteric traditions. Slowly, an idea of alchemy began to form which was very different from what I was familiar with, mostly from reading Jung.
Discussion there was lively, with typical Gallic love of a good argument, but one of the few subjects on which there was virtual unanimity seemed to be deep respect for “Trojani”, whose occasional visits to the store never seemed to coincide with mine. I often heard remarks to the effect that whereas certain eminent figures had book- knowledge, and certain others made sensational claims, rare people such as Trojani were authentic practitioners of the millennial art. I was even told by a friend whose intelligence and discrimination I respect, that he is one of the greatest of all European alchemists, one of the few full inheritors of the true tradition.
When I finally met François we hit it off well, but not because of anything to do with alchemy — it turned out that we are both friends and admirers of Stephen Jourdain, an extraordinary mystical writer who lives in François’ native Corsica (a maverick who eschews all esoteric and religious tradition). Moreover, we soon found that we shared a common deep influence in our lives from the writings of the Hindu sage, Ramana Maharshi. In the beginning of our acquaintance, François showed no interest in discussing alchemy with me. The few times I heard him discuss it with others were devoted to very specific scholarly points which seemed of interest only to specialists. Once I remember being present when a man with an intense gaze asked him point-blank in front of several people in the bookstore, if he were really a practicing alchemist. François quickly replied that he was indeed, and that his specialty was making beer — he then launched into an enthusiastic and learned discussion about brewing techniques, maintaining that really good beer has subtle effects unique among alcholic beverages because of the presence of hops, a very close relative of marijuana. His questioner quickly lost interest and left. But a couple of others took up the discussion and wound up going with him to a nearby bar to sample some special brew made by monks.
Often we talked about philosophy and about our mutual friend Steve Jourdain, as well as ordinary subjects. Only after I had known him for a couple of years did we really begin to discuss alchemy, always with the emphasis on the philosophical aspect. He insisted that philosophy has a more dynamic, active, “incarnated” meaning for alchemists than it does in common parlance.
When we first talked about the possibility of doing an interview on alchemy, I expressed reservations because of my relatively small knowledge of the subject. He surprised me by saying he preferred it that way: “Your very ignorance of the science of Alchemy makes it more likely that you will ask questions of universal interest,” he explained.
I have no way of judging whether François Trojani is indeed a master, one of the greatest alchemists in France, as some people say. I have no opinion on this and I will probably never know enough to have one. But I can vouch for the authenticity of his presence, and the depth of his presentation of the Perennial Philosophy. It is my hope that some of this will come through in this written version of our conversation.
INTERVIEW
Rowe: François, what is the essential difference between alchemy and modern science — for example, alchemy’s offspring, chemistry?
Trojani: I wouldn’t say that chemistry is alchemy’s “offspring”…. legitimate or otherwise! This is not to denigrate chemistry, but to point out that they operate in different dimensions. Chemistry, like all that now goes by the name of “science”, is exclusively concerned with the horizontal dimension: material and efficient causality, repeatable manipulations of phenomena etc. Alchemy, while also including the horizontal dimension, places greater value and priority on the vertical dimension.
Rowe: What is this vertical dimension?
Trojani: It is the dimension of interiority, and of meaning in the deepest sense: the meaning of life, the meaning of my life, questions about the relationship of spirit to matter, of the purpose and value of my own actions. The questions: Where did I come from? Why am I here? Who am I? I’m not saying that alchemy provides precise answers to these questions, but that it operates in the dimension where these questions arise.
Rowe: Sounds like exactly the kind of questions that modern science has taken such pains to exclude from consideration.
Trojani: Yes, but this was not originally a bad thing in itself. Alchemy also includes moments when the horizontal must be focused on, and this can be important. But when the priority is reversed, to the point that the horizontal dimension not only precedes, but eclipses the vertical…. well, you get the kind of world we have today. In such a world, it is totally unsurprising that alchemy is regarded as a superstition, or as a kind of primitive precursor of science.
Rowe: For many people, including me, it is thanks to the works of Carl Jung that alchemy has shed this image of an old pseudo-science and been presented as a way of self-knowledge.
Trojani: Yes, and Jung deserves great credit for bringing this to public attention. However, I must tell you that real alchemists have reservations about Jung’s writings on alchemy.
Rowe: What reservations? And could you say what you mean by “real” alchemists?
Trojani: I’m not invoking any orthodoxy or dogma when I say that. There are quite different schools of real alchemy, some of which I know little of, such as the Chinese. What I mean by “real alchemist” in this context is simpler than it might sound: I mean those who not only work on themselves psychologically, but work in a laboratory. Or at least respect laboratory work as important, even if they don’t have access to one. Jung was not a real alchemist, because he attempted to reduce alchemy to its psychological aspect. His understanding of that aspect was excellent as far as it went, but there is much more to alchemy than psychology. It was reductionistic of him to treat laboratory work as mere symbols of psychological work. Of course it is rich in symbols, but true symbols are much more powerful and alive than they are considered to be in modern thought, even Jung’s.
Rowe: But he devoted a tremendous amount of time and energy to studying alchemy, and you agree that he understood its psychological value and significance. So how do you account for his reductionism?
Trojani: It is not unlike scientism’s reductionism when it considers alchemy as merely a kind of proto-chemistry. I think Jung was very concerned with maintaining a minimum of scientific respectability. And who could blame him? After all, he had just cut loose from his mentor and father-figure, Freud, who was a staunch defender of scientism. Part of their disagreement was very much related to this. If Jung had gone so far as to take alchemical laboratory work seriously, he would have been seen as going totally off the deep end, and his own work would have become even more marginalized than it was.
Rowe: Do you mean a laboratory with… sulfur, flasks, retorts and that kind of thing?
Trojani: Certainly. Jung never really took this work seriously. He could have — he was a man of great insight, and I am told that he had access to some authentic alchemists. But he did not choose to listen to their advice. Again, there is no blame here. Jung had his role to play , and it was a valuable one. I want to show the limitations of his role, not denigrate it.
Rowe: What goes on in an alchemist’s laboratory?
Trojani: There is no such thing as a generic alchemist’s laboratory. For that matter (and this is a well-kept secret), there is no such thing as a generic chemist’s laboratory: just take a tour sometime of several typical chemistry labs. You will often encounter an amazing variety of setups, even for the same experiment within the same institution. The difference is that for chemists, these variations are viewed as trivial. Or perhaps somewhat apologetically, as a divergence from a certain idealor norm. If the variations become significant, they may be viewed with pride, as a new standard to be emulated. But alchemists will regard the idiosyncracies of their laboratories with neither apology nor pride. From our point of view, there are three types of events that occur there:
1) those which are visible to any normal human being;
2) those which are visible only to initiates;
3) those which are visible only to the alchemist, and perhaps a very few others.
Chemistry only recognizes the first type. That’s OK as far as it goes, but when people deny the validity of the other types, it is a great impoverishment of the word “science.” Do you see what I mean?
Rowe: I think so. There’s a lot to digest there…. But I’d still be interested in more specific information about what goes on in an alchemical laboratory. Am I to believe that lead is literally turned into gold?
Trojani: Such transmutations are possible. They have occurred many times. But I can’t warn strongly enough against becoming fascinated by such phenomena. Not only would it miss the point, which is the transformation of the whole person and thus of the universe — such fascination with power also erodes and degrades the fundamental alchemical enterprise. It is as bad as studying yoga in order to develop psychic powers, for example.
First, ask yourself why you want to know specifically what goes on in an alchemist’s laboratory? If it is simply curiosity, then that is for someone other than me to satisfy. You can find plenty of details in books, though not all of them are reliable. On the other hand, if it is because you are seriously interested in learning more about alchemy as a way of self-knowledge, then you must also begin by reading. Whatever the initial motivation, learning about alchemy is very much a path of reading and studying. It not only includes study of the alchemical corpus, but of other types of Hermetic subjects, as well as comparative studies of philosophy and religion. It is not a discipline for those who don’t love research, at least not in our era. However, there is no established curriculum. You will naturally find your own curriculum if you are interested enough, and if you need guidance, it will appear. If your intention is pure and your study is diligent, doors will open for you in very surprising ways. It is extremely helpful to learn Latin if you want to go far (though I certainly hope many more texts will be translated into modern languages). When the time is right, you will begin laboratory work in your own way, perhaps with an appropriate guide. At a certain point, I would recommend some courses in beginning chemistry, with emphasis on simple, practical lab techniques such as mixing, melting, distilling, etc. Ordinary laboratory skills, especially if they are the time-honored ones which are not dependent on advanced 20th-century technology, can be very useful for alchemical experiments.
But unless there is a specific need to know, then my telling you or your readers about laboratory details would just be pandering to curiosity or sensationalism, like describing specifics of spiritual exercises. Now, I have heard that Americans have great faith in every imaginable kind of “how-to” book for the general public, right? Some of them are no doubt very useful — who am I to say that an alchemical “how-to” book is completely impossible, or would absolutely have to be superficial or harmful? But I don’t see how I could ever condone such a project, much less participate in it — perhaps I’m just too European.
Rowe: I doubt that alchemy is my own path, but I am obviously very interested in what it has to offer — as philosophy even more than as psychology. So forgive me, François, if I keep coming back to this question of the literal transmutation of lead into gold. It’s not that I’m giving in to vulgar curiosity, it’s that I have a problem with it: how can this be reconciled with modern science’s impressive discoveries based on the periodic table of elements, and its categorical denial that such a transmutation is possible without recourse to sophisticated and very expensive technology? …Though I do seem to recall one chemist who was interested in alchemy, saying that it might be possible to create gold in very small quantities….
Trojani: Sorry, but it has in fact been transmuted in enormous quantities, so that is a false reconciliation. But I think I understand your problem. It might help if I point out that alchemical operations do not function primarily on the level of the periodic table with its atomic numbers and masses, etc., but on the fabric of space-time itself. You see, the space that gold “occupies” is not at all the same kind of space that lead occupies. Modern science is completely oblivious to this: for it, space and time are constants, except on scales where relativity or quantum theory comes into play. When alchemy speaks in terms of lead as being Saturn, the old man, associated with rigidity and distance; and of gold as the Sun, Apollo, youth, light, nearness, etc., it is not being quaint and picturesque, it is evoking the nature of the space-time fabric where these substances manifest in consciousness; it’s talking about a vast panorama of evolution which appears to have preceded this situation, including the observer of the lead and gold, and his or her unique status at that moment in space-time.
In alchemy, work on these substances, work on space-time-matter- energy IS work on oneself. This cannot be too often repeated. Transmutation is a special kind of warp or wrinkle in this fabric, and it very much involves the experimenter.
Rowe: Hmm… this is beginning to sound like science-fiction!
Trojani: Well, many of the concepts used in science-fiction have long been familiar to alchemists. Alchemy is entirely at home with time-travel, multidimensional spacetime, etc. But here too, I would warn against considering such phenomena as goals in themselves. They are only exemplary phases in what we call le Grand Oeuvre. [Translation note: in English alchemy, this is the Magnum Opus or Great Work. The reversed gender of Oeuvre in French is totally unique here.] This Work is not for dabblers, power- seekers or those who give high priority to comfort. It is redemptory, but this redemption leads to a shaking of the very foundations of the consensual hallucination regarding space and time.
Rowe: Does the famous “philosopher’s stone” play a role in this?
Trojani: An essential one. But there is a frequent misunderstanding about the stone. As an object, a symbol, it is only a phase in a long dynamical process: when we speak of the stone, we are really talking about this dynamic. When we speak of symbols we are also speaking about phases of this dynamic: very active and effective phases, radically different from the feeble, watered-down meaning that “symbol” has in modern language. Also, when we use the word philosophale — not to be confused with philosophique — we mean something far more incarnate than what “philosophy” has come to mean over the last couple of millennia or so. [Translation note: the word philosophale in French is exclusively alchemical in meaning, and has no equivalent in English.]
However, alchemy was not always philosophale — in prehistoric, shamanic cultures, it operated mostly in the vegetal realm, and was vastly aided by psychotropic plants, which played a tremendous role in the evolution of languages. Later, stones came into use, and very particular ones were used to perfect the first symbols. Writing was an offshoot of this. At the same time, true alchemical philosophy (in the sense we now understand it) began to emerge. This philosophy was the matrix which gave birth to the philosopher’s stone, la grande cire [Translation note: this phrase refers to a malleable quality like wax or like a mold] .
On certain occasions, the stone may be employed in a fermentation with gold or silver, thus bringing its transmutational powers into play, while subjecting it to a partial retrograding of its qualities. You see, nothing is gained without a price. It is an ancient, major error to think that the primary use of the philosopher’s stone is in transmutation. The stone has a far greater and nobler potential than merely producing transmutations or elixirs, which lesser arcana can also do. One doesn’t approach the stone “in order to”…. one approaches it as the first step in an act of vigilance which is one’s first sacred act of surrender in this path. The philosopher’s stone is the concrete manifestation of solve et coagula: their mystical identity. Yet it neither dissolves, like mercury, nor coagulates, like sulfur. In essence, it is a cure for the hallucination of death and corruption, acting right at the very root of the notion. Again, the physical stone is only a phase of this cure.
In the long run, laboratory processes show a strange indifference to our strategies and hopeful expectations. Great alchemical discoveries have much in common with the miraculous, the gift of grace. They are closer to what is called a “singularity” nowadays, than to systematic procedures based on previous knowledge, which can be a reductionist trap. The history of alchemy has shown that innocence and simplicity may succeed where the most sophisticated abilities fail. It seems that each micro-phase of the Work contains the entire Grand Oeuvre : in some important sense, the greatest is able to enter into the smallest.
The very slow and painstaking process in the laboratory has close and obvious parallels with spiritual processes. These can be summarized as the primal necessity for the high (spirit, sky, the heavens) to come into intimate collaboration with the low (body, earth, matter). Then we study the ways and means of extracting the spirit from this body, and the possibility of the artist’s acceleration of this process. During its sublimation, we find that this same spirit, or fire, brings out strange, pure, unsuspected elements from the material body over many repetitions. It is also observed that the more purified the body becomes through repeated sublimation and condensation, the more it concentrates the spirit — up to a certain limit. Repeatedly infused throughout the body, this pure substance, or mercury, brings out another deeply- entrenched material which is dry, resistant, flammable, rebellious, indestructible. This has been given the name of sulfur. This is a foreshadowing of the stone’s power as polarizer, magnet and revealer of the best and the worst that is in a human being. In the entire process, a harmonious relationship with seemingly external rhythms is indispensible: the alternation of day and night, the seasons, the movements of planets and stars, etc.
The Grand Oeuvre breaks up the crust of assumptions involved in external vs. internal, the objectification of the world. The physical world is shown to be far more malleable than science imagines. But this malleability is not some power attained by the alchemist as a separate being, a human subject, to be then replicated on equivalent material objects by other human subjects. The separation of subject and object is revealed as illusion. The Work accomplishes the worker: experimenter and experiment are an inseparable whole.
Rowe: This is certainly a departure from Western science as it has been practiced. Science takes great pains to separate the experimenter from the experiment as much as possible.
Trojani: Quite so. And no amount of sophisticated apparatus can make up for a view of the universe which is crippled by this and other limiting and mostly unexamined assumptions.
Rowe: Such as the dogma that experiments must be reproducible by anyone else, given the same external conditions?
Trojani: Yes indeed. The doctrine of replicability is a good example of this. Its disregard of the importance of the individuality of the experimenter goes hand in hand with the fantasy of the pure, detached observer who does not interact with the universe he is investigating.
Rowe: But that detached observer fantasy has come under serious attack by quantum physics. I imagine alchemists breathing a sigh of relief when Heisenberg’s results became known: “Finally, they’re beginning to understand.”
Trojani: Well, perhaps, but it wasn’t that big a relief. Admitting the importance of the observer only in the subatomic realm is a bare beginning of understanding. The importance of quantum physics is greatly exaggerated, I believe, when it is presented as a fundamental change in viewpoint.
Rowe: What more would be needed for science to change fundamentally?
Trojani: First of all, let’s be clear that there is nothing inherently wrong with science as a limited practice — nothing inherently wrong with setting up a game where replicability is aimed for — provided that it is done in the context of clear and limited goals. There is no reason to get rid of science, just to get it through people’s heads and hearts, whether scientists or not, that for all its great potential usefulness, science (in the modern sense of the word) is a very limited, very fragmented, and not very profound way of trying to investigate the mysteries of the universe.
Rowe: Then my question becomes: what would a completely new kind of science look like?
Trojani: Who can say? There are many possible answers to that, because it would imply a different civilization. But I’ll be happy to
point out a couple of scientific fetishes whose power over people’s minds I, for one, would be happy to see diminished. For example, the obsession with the micro-level: as if finding out what is happening with the smallest components is the key to everything!
Rowe: Charles Musès compared this to a group of scientists watching a drama on TV, and attempting to predict the outcome of the drama by studying the transistors, capacitors, etc., inside the TV set.
Trojani: (laughter) What a devastating analogy! But sometimes I think the problem is even deeper. It’s a fixation, not just on components or elements as being the most real level of existence, but also on the geometrical point itself as the basis of space. Such things as fields, planes, spaces, are admitted — but somehow they never seem quite as real as points. They always have to be composed of points or vectors. There are a few scientists such as Rupert Sheldrake, who try to go against this grain and posit fields as fundamental, but he seems to have been marginalized. We would probably have to have a new mathematics along with a new science, but I’m not the person to say what it would be.
Rowe: Rudolf Steiner felt that projective geometry was the key to a new mathematics, because it treats lines, planes and spaces as being just as fundamental as points — even more so in some axiomatic systems.
Trojani: Very interesting. I haven’t gone extensively into Steiner’s thought, but I have no doubt that he had a deep affinity with alchemy.
But to get back to what a new science would look like, I think a much more fundamental point… you see, just look at our language: even it is point-centered! (laughter)… a much more fundamental aspect, let us say, is the status of the observer, or experimenter. The observer would have to become an integral part of every experiment. Such aspects as ethical implications, values and consequences, questions of the meaning of life — indeed, the whole vertical dimension — would have to be let back into the laboratory.
But you see, this thing we call “science” cannot change by itself. It is only the expression of the values and assumptions of an entire civilization… a civilization which is largely the outcome of the progressive secularization of European culture and society which began at the end of medieval times.
Rowe: But this secularization was to a great extent a reaction against the Church’s violence and intolerance, wasn’t it? Including persecution of alchemists among others…
Trojani: Quite true. But it developed into a very extreme reaction. It split the soul of Western man, and actually made the Church even narrower in a lot of ways, while removing its teeth, so to speak. We hear of “brain-drain” from one country to another, but we rarely hear of the cultural brain-drain from spiritual life to worldly life. This has been going on for centuries. The best artistic and philosophical talents are very rarely drawn to a spiritual vocation any more. This has made organized religion terribly mediocre. Which makes access to the vertical dimension even less available, because it is, or at least has been, religion which has always provided such access for the vast majority of people. This split in the Western soul has now spread to all of humanity — we see the same kind of fragmentation all over the world, with fundamentalisms on the rise, always as a reaction against modernism. But alongside this reactionary trend, we also clearly have a shift in consciousness, where a rediscovery of the vertical dimension is becoming possible — for many individuals. Could this happen on a vast collective level? I don’t know. I tend not to be optimistic about that — there are powerful interests which want to keep people asleep. Religion would have to change radically, perhaps into something that we wouldn’t even call religion in any conventional sense.
Rowe: What would alchemy’s role be in this shift in consciousness?
Trojani: Not an obvious one. Alchemy has always been a path for the few, not the many. This is mostly because it is so strongly focused on individuation, including much solitude and intellectual effort — but I don’t meant to imply that it is superior to a more community-oriented spiritual path. Also, alchemy is not a religion. Nevertheless, it can and does harmonize well with various religious and mystical traditions. At one time it could even harmonize well wfith science! The most famous case of this is Sir Isaac Newton, perhaps the greatest of all Western scientists, who not only had deep resepect for alchemy, but practiced it himself. This was absolutely not because he was naive, or dabbling in a hobby, as modernists would have us believe. Unfortunately, this has become very difficult if not impossible now, just as it has become almost impossible for astrologers and astronomers to collaborate any more.
But I hope that the time is now ripe for the insights of alchemy to be appreciated, especially in a philosophical sense. Indeed, that is the main purpose of publishing such an interview as this — it would have been very unlikely, if not impossible, even a generation ago.
Rowe: I get a sense of something almost like political implications in this.
Trojani: Indeed, and that shouldn’t surprise us. There have been a few alchemists who were very active in politics. But the political and social implications here are much too subtle to be framed by the stereotypes which typify political thinking today.
Rowe: Could they have something to do with democratic vs. elitist ideals? It has occurred to me that the triumph of a type of science which makes a fetish of replicability and the interchangability of all observers, may somehow be connected with the rise of democracy. Which ultimately leads to what René Guénon called the “reign of quantity.” But this gives me a problem, because I can’t see us going back to some aristocratic type of science, still less to a theocratic society such as that of the middle ages…
Trojani: Nor can I. This is a difficult question. You know, both of these tendencies — we may as well call them the democratic vs. the elitist tendency — have long existed within alchemy itself, sometimes harmoniously, and sometimes not. There are many examples of alchemists who felt a duty to use their knowledge so as to help their community, and others who felt that such efforts would always be futile in the long run, except perhaps spontaneously, on very local levels.
Rowe: Any examples of the former? Most alchemists would seem to be in the latter category, the more elitist one.
Trojani: Not necessarily. It would be more accurate to say that most alchemists find themselves in both categories at one time or another. But it is true that alchemy is generally quite “elitist”, if we judge it by modern standards. By ancient standards, it would not be so judged.
But you asked for examples — there are more than you might think. One of the most dramatic was Jacques Coeur, who literally saved France’s economy after the devastation of the Hundred Years War. As a cover story, he presented himself as a very rich speculator in precious metals. There have been other prominent examples of alchemists in political life, as well as in the arts (especially architecture, during the building of the great cathedrals), the sciences, trades, etc…
You mentioned persecutions, but alchemists actually fared better during those periods of collective insanity than others with heretical views, partly because of their age-old discretion, but also because of the influence of brethren in high places. But this does not mean that alchemists ever compromised with oppressors. Alchemists were generally not people driven by ambition. They rose to high office
Were any alchemists priests?
Oh, sure. Priests, bishops, even a Pope. A Pope?!
Sylvester II, known as Gerbert d’Aurillac. [Note: Pope from
because they wanted to be of service. That may be hard to believe in these cynical times, but it’s true, for the most part.
Rowe: Well, I can certainly see the point of the elitists — it’s hard to see what such high service actually accomplished in the long run, isn’t it? Whoever he was, Pope Sylvester’s legacy certainly didn’t prevent the Crusades and the Inquisition from happening. And being Pope must have been quite a distraction from his alchemical pursuits, to put it mildly.
Trojani: In a way, both points of view are right. It seems to me that we should be thinking in terms of a dialectic here, instead of “Which side is best?” It is true that the democratic pole, that of emphasizing the good of the community, has apparently triumphed both in science and in government. But this is only an appearance. Repressing the elitist or aristocratic pole of the dialectic only causes it to return in a negative way. And this comes as no surprise from the alchemical point of view — the principle of the return of the repressed was known millennia before Freud.
Rowe: Very interesting….might we say that this is exemplified by the shadowy elites, often resembling Mafias, which now have incredible influence in both science and in government? Both in the U.S. and in France, there is the phenomenon of a “military-industrial complex” and very powerful arms industry, which joins both science and government in the worst possible way.
Trojani: I’m afraid so. But such an evil partnership is not really surprising. For hundreds of years, science has systematically excluded the vertical dimension, which includes ethics among other things. If alchemy has anything that could be called a political principle, it would be a fundamental opposition to the desire for power over others. But this itself is the outcome of a certain attitude towards the universe.
Rowe: Could you say more about that?
Trojani: I’ll try, but it’s not going to be easy to put into words, so please bear with me. You see, in alchemy, we never question the universe in a general, impersonal way — we question it as a living being. Modern philosophy dismisses this as “animism”. It prefers to question the universe in a mechanistic way, and of course it gets mechanistic answers. But the attitude goes still deeper than this. Alchemy places great value on such questions as: “Did the universe exist before I questioned it?” Or rather, “Did You exist before this question I am asking You?”…. where it is understood that this You is not just some abstract God, it is the whole of creation, including this very concrete, very particular situation right in front of me, in all its sensual
appearance, whether in the laboratory or not. Such a question makes no sense to the modern mind, but it is crucial for alchemy.
Rowe: What about the notion that is attributed to at least some alchemists, that this very appearance of dense matter, deprived of consciousness, is in some sense the Fall from grace or paradise?
Trojani: Yes, that is an alchemical notion, but it should not be taken as a complete statement. Alchemy must not be confused with certain forms of Gnosticism or other Persian-influenced dualistic philosophies, with whom it shares these ideas superficially. It is true that we sometimes think of the Fall as being the appearance of matter as external to consciousness. Matter itself is the fallen Angel, in this sense — but an Angel which can be redeemed through individuation. Since humans normally have no access (or believe they have no access) to matter from the inside, so to speak, it appears as opaque, exterior. There is obscurity, there is lack of dialogue. But we must not stop here; we must ask, “Why this Fall?” Matter appears as a non-invested zone of perceiving consciousness. But to WHOM does it thus appear? Ramana Maharshi, when asked why God ever allowed a world of insensate matter to exist, said “Who is it that sees insensate matter?”
Rowe: I’m glad you brought up Ramana Maharshi, who has had such an influence on each of us, as on countless others. On the one hand, I see a tremendous affinity between Western esoteric philosophy and Ramana’s teaching of relentless Self-Inquiry….
Trojani: Very much so. His teaching is magnificent in bringing us always back to the essential. In alchemical language, it is facing up to the darkness of matter, the darkness of death, and beyond that to the “darkness which is darker than darkness”…. which is none other than my truest Self, or Source. Which could just as well be described as boundless and infinite Light…
Rowe: (pause) …. But on the other hand, I sometimes feel that this teaching is subtly one-sided.
Trojani: How so?
Rowe: Somehow it troubles me that Ramana Maharshi speaks so eloquently of the salt doll dissolving in the Ocean, yet nothing is ever said as to how and why the Ocean brings forth that salt doll. It’s not just Ramana Maharshi, actually. I feel this sometimes in many mystical teachings, especially of the East. It seems almost like a kind of a disdain of the quest for any sense of purpose, or evolutionary meaning, in the realm of manifest phenomena — it’s all just maya, samsara …. many
mystics are surprisingly disdainful or even hostile to any kind of evolutionary purpose or meaning, except that of seeing through the illusion of it all. For example, Teilhard de Chardin’s evolutionary vision has been attacked both by materialistic scientists, such as Jacques Monod, and by mystics such as Martin Lings. I was hoping that alchemical philosophy would shed some light on this.
Trojani: I also have found a certain one-sidedness in Eastern teachings — but I think it might be more accurate to say, in the way in which those teachings are interpreted and used by us in the West. I believe alchemy does have a useful teaching to offer here: that of SOLVE ET COAGULA. Dissolution and condensation, emptiness and form, unmanifest and manifest, implicate and explicate, etc. This is perhaps the most powerful dialectic of all. The typical Occidental one- sidedness tends to be on the coagula side of the equation, and the typical Oriental one-sidedness tends to be on the solve side.
But that doesn’t detract from the value of Ramana Maharshi’s teaching. It is perhaps the purest and most direct expression of solve of this century. The fact that he did not address the coagula side of the mystery does not have to be viewed as a deficiency. After all, this era we live in needs a huge dose of solve ! But we must not stop there, or we will just become one-sided in the other way, always trying to solve every question with some panacea, dissolving every question into some divine cosmic soup. But — and this especially needs to be heard by those of the Eastern persuasion — the Self also coagulates, it produces illusions ludiques (trans. note: “playful illusions” — French wordplay based on the word “illusion” having the Latin root ludus = game, play). It produces questions which cannot be “solved”, such as the question of questions: Who Am I? The infinite value of this question is in the ever- deepening asking of it, not in the “solving” of it. In this question, we reach the heart of alchemical philosophy, the secret which protects itself: the simultaneity, the identity of SOLVE = COAGULA. In other words, only by totally embracing my mortality, my utter dissolution, can I attain immortality. The coagulation, the deep and relentless asking of the question, Who Am I?, is not other than the solution of the question. The coagulated salt doll is not other than the dissolved salt doll.
Rowe: What about evolution? Is it just a temporary appearance of coagulation and dissolution?
Trojani: Yes and no. Always the same great paradox. In a sense there’s nowhere for evolution to “go”. Every gain in linear evolution is paid for by a loss. But rest assured, alchemy has the utmost respect for evolution, including the vision of Teilhard de Chardin. However, we must overcome the notion of evolution as primarily a process in linear time. That notion implies an endless, infinitely increasing linear process
in time — a monstrous and soulless notion. Among those religious people who stupidly oppose the great scientific discoveries relating to “evolution”, there are some who are unconsciously reacting to this very bad idea of time, but do not know how to express themselves. There is a higher-dimensional, non-linear time of evolution, yet we cannot enter into it consciously until we embrace and live this seeming paradox in our own lives. The intellect, or at any rate what is ordinarily called the intellect, cannot solve this paradox. Yet it can be solved by your own life itself. It is through your own individual life that the totality of creation evolves — any other meaning of evolution is shallow. In a sense, evolution IS the dynamic, intelligent harmony of SOLVE ET COAGULA. An ancient alchemical expression of the paradox is: from the One, towards the One, by means of the One.
Note:
This interview was conducted in French in the Autumn of 1995 and translated, transcribed and edited by Joseph Rowe with oversight from François Trojani. Joseph Rowe may be contacted at: joseph@naturalchant.com
Unfortunately, the Parisian bookstore La Table d’Emeraude no longer exists.