Chapter VII: Appendix: 307 (5)

Disappointed, disheartened, but still pertinaciously adhering to his search after the Grand Secret, Trévisan now set to work with a protonotary of Bruges, whom he describes as a great theologian, and who pretended to extract the stone from sulphate of iron (copperas) by distillation with vinegar. They began by calcining the sulphate for three months, when it was soaked in the vinegar, which had been eight times distilled. The mixture was placed in an alembic, and distilled fifteen times daily for a year, at the end of which the seeker was rewarded by a quartan fever which consumed him for fourteen months, and which almost cost him his life.

He was scarcely restored to health when he heard from a clerk that Maître Henry, the confessor of the German Emperor, Frederick III., was in possession of the philosophical stone. He immediately set out for Germany, accompanied by some baffled sons of Hermes like himself. They contrived, _par grands moyens et grands amis_, to be introduced to the confessor, and began to work in conjunction with him. Bernard contributed ten marks of silver, and the others thirty-two, for the indispensable expenses of the process, which consisted in the combination of mercury, silver, oil of olives, and sulphur. The whole was dissolved over a moderate fire, and continually stirred. In two months it was placed in a glass phial, which they covered with clay, and afterwards with hot ashes. Lead, dissolved in a crucible, was added after three weeks, and the product of this fusion was subjected to refinement. At the end of these operations the imperial confessor expected that the silver which had entered into the combination would be augmented at least by a third, but, on the contrary, it was reduced to a fourth.

Bernard Trévisan in utter despair determined to abandon all further experiments. The resolution was applauded by his family, but in two months the Circean power of the secret chemistry had asserted its former dominion over the whole being of its martyr, who, in a fever of eagerness, recommenced his travels, and visited Spain, Italy, England, Scotland, Holland, Germany, and France. Then, anxious to drink at the oriental fountains of alchemy, he spent several years in Egypt, Persia, and Palestine, after which he passed into southern Greece, visiting remote convents and experimenting in conjunction with monks of reputation in the science. In every country he found there were alchemists at work, but of those who were successful he could hear no account. The true philosophers declined to make themselves known, while impostors, in search of the credulous, presented themselves on all sides. Bernard expended in these travels, and in false operations connected with them, about thirteen thousand crowns, and was forced to sell an estate which yielded eight thousand German florins per annum. He was now sixty-two years of age, and as he had been deaf to the remonstrances of his family, he saw himself despised and on the threshold of want and misery. He endeavoured to conceal his poverty, and fixed on the Isle of Rhodes, wherein to live entirely unknown. Now, at Rhodes he became acquainted with _un grand clerc et religieux_, who was addicted to philosophy, and commonly reported to be enjoying the philosophical stone. He managed to borrow eight thousand florins, and laboured with this monk in the dissolution of gold, silver, and corrosive sublimate; he accomplished so much in the space of three years that he expended the funds he had raised, and was again at the end of his resources. Thus, effectually prevented from continuing the practice, he returned to the study of the philosophers, and after eight years, at the age of seventy-three, he professes to have discovered their secret. By comparing the adepts and examining in what things they agree, and in what they differ, he judged that the truth must lie in those maxims wherein they were practically unanimous. He informs us that it was two years before he put his discovery to the test; it was crowned with success, and notwithstanding the infirmities of old age, he lived for some time in the enjoyment of his tardy reward.

The chief work of Trévisan is _La Philosophie Naturelle des Métaux_. He insists on the necessity of strong and discreet meditation in all students of Hermetic philosophy. Their operations must wait on nature, and not nature on their arbitrary processes. Mercury is said to be the water of metals, “in which, by a mutual alteration, it assumes in a convertible manner their mutations.” Gold is simply quicksilver coagulated by the power of sulphur. The secret of dissolution is the whole mystery of the art, and it is to be accomplished not by means of fire, as some have supposed, but, with the help of mercury, in an abstruse manner, which is not really indicated by the adept. The work of nature is assisted by alchemy, which mingles ripe gold with quicksilver, the gold comprising in itself a well-digested sulphur, by which it matures the mercury to the “anatide proportion” of gold, subtilising the elements and wonderfully abbreviating the natural process for producing the precious metal of the mines.

JOHN FONTAINE.

The life of this artist is buried in the obscurity of his closet or laboratory, where he divided his time between attention to his furnaces and the composition of curious verses. He was alive at Valenciennes in the year 1413. His Hermetic poem, _Aux Amoureux de Science_, has been printed several times. The author announces that he is an adept, and describes in an allegorical manner, after the fashion of the “Romance of the Rose,” and in the same quaint and beautiful tongue, the different processes which enter into the art of transmutation. His little work may be profitably studied by the neophytes of practical alchemy, though its benefits are of a negative kind, but its paradise of dainty devices and its old world nature pictures are better suited to the poet and the poetic interpretation of symbols.

THOMAS NORTON.

The scientific methods of Ripley were followed by this alchemist, who was born in the city of Bristol. He wrote anonymously, but the initial syllables in the six first lines, and the first line in the seventh chapter of his “Ordinall of Alchemy,” compose the following couplet:--

“Thomas Norton of Briseto,
A parfet master you may him trow.”

At the age of twenty-eight, and in the brief space of forty days, he is recorded to have mastered “the perfection of chymistry,” obtaining his knowledge from a contemporary adept, who appears to have been Ripley himself. He describes his initiator as a person of noble mind, worthy of all praise, loving justice, detesting fraud, reserved when surrounded by a talkative company, quite unassuming, and if ever the conversation turned upon the Great Art, preserving complete silence. For a long time Norton sought him in vain; the adept proved him by various trials, but when he was satisfied of his disposition, manners, and habits, as well as of his strength of mind, his love yielded to the fidelity and perseverance of his postulant, and in answer to one of his letters he addressed him as follows:--

“MY TRUSTY AND WELL-BELOVED BROTHER,--I shall not any longer delay; the time is come; you shall receive this grace. Your honest desire and approved virtue, your love of truth, wisdom, and long perseverance, shall accomplish your sorrowful desires.

“It is necessary that, as soon as convenient, we speak together face to face, lest I should by writing betray my trust. I will make you my heir and brother in this art, as I am setting out to travel in foreign countries. Give thanks to God, Who, next to His spiritual servants, honours the sons of this sacred science.”

Norton lost no time in undertaking a journey to his instructor, and rode upwards of a hundred miles on horseback to reach the abode of the adept. During the forty days already mentioned he received the advice and directions of his friend. He was already to a great extent prepared for initiation by a long course of natural philosophy, as well as by the study of the occult and curious sciences. The “disclosure of the bonds of nature” took place, and he became convinced of the truth and certainty of the art by the rationality of its theorems. He felt confident of success in the practice, but the adept, on account of his youth, refused to instruct him in the process from the white to the red powder, lest the divine gift should be misused in a moment of passion. In due time, and after further proofs of his capacity and integrity, he would communicate the work of the medicinal stone. This, the supreme desire of the neophyte, was afterwards accomplished.

The chemical operations of Norton were destined, however, to meet with two signal disappointments. He had almost perfected the tincture, when his own servant, who was employed in the care of the furnace, believing that the prize was complete, carried it away. He again undertook the process and succeeded in making the elixir, but he complains that it was stolen by the wife of a merchant, said to be William Canning, Mayor of Bristol, who suddenly started into great wealth, and who built the splendid and lofty steeple of St Mary’s, Radcliffe, besides enlarging Westbury College.

It is doubtful whether Thomas Norton ever enjoyed the fruits of his supposed knowledge. He does not speak of his own transmutations, and if he is called by one of his contemporaries _alchemista suo tempore peritissimus_, by others he is termed _Nugarum opifex in frivola scientia_. The latter declare that he undid himself by his labours, and that all his friends who trusted him with their money were as much ruined as himself. According to Fuller, he lived and died very poor; nevertheless his family appears to have been held in high repute under King Henry VIII. There were nine brothers of the name of Norton. One anonymous writer asserts that they were all of them knights. The tomb of Sampson Norton, master of the king’s ordnance, and buried in Fulham Church, was adorned with Hermetic paintings, according to one account, but Faulkner, in his historical account of Fulham, describes it as a rich Gothic monument, ornamented with foliage and oak-leaves, and bearing an obliterated inscription.

Thomas Norton died in 1477. His grandson Samuel followed in his steps as an alchemist, and was the author of several Hermetic treatises, which are not very highly esteemed.

* * * * *

“The Ordinal of Alchemy” testifies that the stone is one. In appearance it is a subtle earth, brown, and opaque; it stands the fire, and is considered to be of no value. There is also another and glorious stone, which is termed the philosophical magnesia. Alchemy is a wonderful science, a secret philosophy, a singular grace and free gift of the Almighty, which was never discovered by independent human labour, but only by revelation or the instruction of one of the adepts.

“It helpeth a man when he hath neede,
It voideth vaine Glory, Hope, and also Dreade:
It voideth Ambitiousnesse, Extorcion, and Excesse,
It fenceth Adversity that shee doe not oppresse.
He that thereof hath his full intent,
Forsaketh Extremities, with Measure is content.”

A certain mineral virtue is said to be the efficient cause in the production of metals in the bowels of the earth; it is in correspondence with the virtues of the celestial spheres. The red stone lengthens life, but it is vain to seek it till after the confection of the white.

THOMAS DALTON.

The only account of this English adept is preserved by Thomas Norton. He was alive in the year 1450, and is described as a religious man, who enjoyed a good reputation till, upon suspicion that he had a large mass of transmuting powder, he was taken from his abbey in Gloucestershire by Thomas Herbert, one of the squires of King Edward, and being brought into the royal presence he was confronted by Debois, another of the king’s squires, to whom Dalton was formerly a chaplain. Debois alleged that Dalton, in less than twelve hours, made him a thousand pounds of good gold, and he attested the fact upon oath. Then Dalton, looking at Debois, said, “Sir, you are forsworn.” Debois acknowledged that he had vowed never to reveal the benefit which he had received, but for the king’s sake and the good of the commonwealth he ought not to keep his oath. Dalton now addressed the king, and informed him that he had received the powder of projection from a canon of Lichfield, on condition that he forbore to make use of it till after the death of the donor. Since that event he had been in so much danger and disquietude on account of its possession that he had destroyed it in secret. The king dismissed Dalton, giving him four marks for his travelling expenses; but Herbert lay in wait for him brought him from Stepney, and thence conveyed him to the castle of Gloucester, where every means were vainly tried to induce him to make the philosophers’ tincture.

After four years’ imprisonment, Dalton was brought out to be beheaded in the presence of Herbert. He obeyed with resignation and joy, saying: “Blessed art thou, Lord Jesus! I have been too long from you; the science you gave me I have kept without abusing it; I have found no one apt to be my heir, wherefore, sweet Lord, I will render Thy gift to Thee again.”

Then, after some devout prayer, with a smiling countenance he desired the executioner to proceed. Tears gushed from the eyes of Herbert when he beheld him so willing to die, and saw that no ingenuity could wrest his secret from him. He gave orders for his release. His imprisonment and threatened execution were contrived without the king’s knowledge to intimidate him into compliance. The iniquitous devices having failed, Herbert did not dare to take away his life. Dalton rose from the block with a heavy countenance and returned to his abbey, much grieved at the further prolongation of his earthly sojourn. Herbert died shortly after this atrocious act of tyranny, and Debois also came to an untimely end. His father, Sir John Debois, was slain at the battle of Tewksbury, May 4, 1471, and two days after, as recorded in Stow’s _Annales_, he himself, James Debois, was taken, with several others of the Lancastrian party, from a church where they had fled for sanctuary, and was beheaded on the spot.[U]

FOOTNOTES:

[U] Stow, “Annales of England,” p. 424, ed. 1615.

SIR GEORGE RIPLEY.

This illustrious alchemical philosopher, whose works paved the royal road to the initiation, in after times, of his still more illustrious pupil, the sublime and mysterious Philalethes, entered, at an early age, among the regular canons of Bridlington, in the diocese of York. The tranquillity of monastic life afforded him a favourable opportunity for the study of the great masters in transcendental chemistry, but he found himself notwithstanding incompetent for their full comprehension, and in considerable consequent disappointment he determined to travel, persuading himself that he should discover in the conversations of philosophers what he could not glean from books.

In Italy, Germany, and France he became acquainted with various men of learning, and was present at a transmutation which was performed in Rome. He proceeded afterwards to the island of Rhodes, where a document is supposed to exist testifying that he gave £100,000 to the Knights of St John of Jerusalem. He was dignified by the Pope, which fact, on his return to Bridlington, excited the jealousy of his brethren, and in consequence of their hostility he entered the Carmelite order at Butolph, in Lincolnshire, and, by an indulgence from Innocent VIII., had permission to live in solitude, exempt from cloistral observances, and in his now uninterrupted leisure he wrote twenty-four books, some scientific, and others on devout subjects. The “Twelve Gates of Alchemy” he composed in 1471, and he declares that any of his experiments recorded from 1450 to 1470 should be entirely discredited, as he wrote them from theory, and found afterwards by practice that they were untrue. Hence it may be concluded that he employed twenty years in mastering the secrets of the science. He died at Butolph in 1490.

* * * * *

“The Twelve Gates of Alchemy” describe the stone as a triune microcosm, whence Ripley has been cited as an adept of the spiritual chemistry. He insists upon the necessity of proportion in its composition, and declares that the principle, or _prima materia_, may be found everywhere. It flies with fowls in the air, swims with fishes in the sea, it may be discerned by the reason of angels, and it governs man and woman. An astronomical year is required for the manufacture of the stone.

PICUS DE MIRANDOLA.

John Picus, Earl of Mirandola, was born on the 24th February 1463. He is equally celebrated for his precocity, the extent of his learning, his prodigious memory, and his penetrating intellect. As the pupil of Jochanum, a Jew, he became early initiated in the Kabbalistic interpretation of Scripture, and at the age of twenty-four years he published nine hundred propositions in logic, mathematics, physics, divinity, and Kabbalism, collected from Greek, Latin, Jewish, and Arabian writers. In his treatise _De Auro_, he records his conviction of the success of Hermetic operations, and gives us the following narrations:--

“I come now to declare that which I have beheld of this prodigy, without veil or obscurity. One of my friends, who is still living, has made gold and silver over sixty times in my presence. I have seen it performed in divers manners, but the expense of making the silver with a metallic water exceeded the produce.”

In another place he tells us that “a good man who had not a sufficiency to support his family, was reduced to the last extremity of distress; with an agitated mind he went one night to sleep, and in a dream he beheld a blessed angel, who, by means of enigmas, instructed him in the method of making gold, and indicated to him, at the same time, the water he should use to ensure success. At his awaking he proceeded to work with this water, and made gold, truly in small quantity, yet sufficient to support his family. Twice he made gold of iron and four times of orpiment. He convinced me by the evidence of my own eyes that the art of transmutation is no fiction.”

PARACELSUS.

Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombast von Hohenheim was born in the year 1493, at Maria Einsiedeln, in the canton of Zurich, in Switzerland. He was descended from the ancient and honourable family of Bombast, which had abode during many generations at the castle of Hohenheim near Stuttgart, Würtemberg. His father was a physician of repute, and in possession of a large collection of curious books. His mother had been the matron of a hospital, and Theophrastus, their only child, was born one year after their marriage. He is said to have been emasculated in his infancy, a tradition which may have been invented to account for his beardless and feminine appearance, and for his hatred of women.

Paracelsus received the first rudiments of education from his father, and, as he advanced in his studies and capacity, he was instructed in alchemy, surgery, and medicine. One of the works of Isaac Holland fell into his hands, and from that moment he was inflamed with the ambition of curing diseases by medicine superior to the _materia_ at that time in use. He performed several chemical operations, according to the books of the celebrated Hollander, and adopted from his writings the ancient principles that a salt, mercury, and sulphur form a trinity in every substance. This system he enlarged and explained by his own intellectual illumination. He imbibed much of his father’s extensive learning, and then continued his studies under the guidance of monks in the convent of St Andrew of Savon, afterwards at the University of Basel, and finally devoted himself to the occult sciences with the illustrious Johann Trithemius, Abbot of Spanheim, for his teacher and director. In this way he acquired “the Kabbalah of the spiritual, astral, and material worlds.” He was afterwards placed under the care of Sigismond Hagger or Fagger, to be improved in medicine, surgery, and chemistry. At twenty years of age he started on his travels through Germany, Hungary, Italy, France, the Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, and Russia. In Muscovy he is said to have been taken prisoner by the Tartars, who brought him before “the great Cham.” His knowledge of medicine and chemistry made him a favourite at the court of this potentate, who sent him in company with his son on an embassy to Constantinople. It was here, according to Helmont, that he was taught the supreme secret of alchemistry by a generous Arabian, who gave him the universal dissolvent, the Azoth of western adepts, the alcahest or sophic fire. Thus initiated, he is said to have proceeded to India. On his return to Europe he passed along the Danube into Italy, where he served as an army surgeon, performing many wonderful cures.

At the age of thirty-two he re-entered Germany, and was soon after invited to take a professorship of physic, medicine, and surgery at the University of Basel, then illuminated by the presence of Erasmus and Oporinus. There, in his lectures, he professed “internal medicine,” denounced the antiquated systems of Galen and other authorities, and began his instruction by burning the works of these masters in a brass pan with sulphur and nitre. He created innumerable enemies by his arrogance and his innovations, but the value of his mineral medicines was proved by the cures which he performed. These cures only increased the hatred of his persecutors, and Paracelsus with characteristic defiance invited the faculty to a lecture, in which he promised to teach the greatest secret in medicine. He began by uncovering a dish which contained excrement. The doctors, indignant at the insult, departed precipitately, Paracelsus shouting after them:--“If you will not hear the mysteries of putrefactive fermentation, you are unworthy of the name of physicians.” Subsequently, he came into conflict with the municipal authorities, and was forced to flee from Basel. He resumed his strolling life, lodging at public inns, drinking to excess, but still performing admirable cures. Oporinus testifies that even during the period of his professorship he never seemed sober.

In 1528, Paracelsus proceeded to Colmar. In 1530 he was staying at Nuremberg, where the faculty denounced him as an impostor, but he transfixed his opponents by curing in a few days some desperate cases of elephantiasis. “Testimonials to this effect,” says Hartmann, his latest biographer, “may still be found in the archives of the city of Nuremberg.” He continued his wanderings and his intemperate manner of life, dying on the 24th of September 1541.

The actual manner of his death has been variously recounted. The original “Lives of Alchemysticall Philosophers” says that it occurred on a bench of the kitchen fire of the inn at Strasburg. Dr Hartmann, on the other hand, tells us that he “went to Maehren, Kaernthen, Krain, and Hongary, and finally landed in Salzburg, to which place he was invited by the Prince Palatine, Duke Ernst of Bavaria, who was a great lover of the secret arts. In that place, Paracelsus obtained at last the fruits of his long labours and of a wide-spread fame. But he was not destined to enjoy a long time the rest he so richly deserved.... He died, after a short sickness (at the age of forty-eight years and three days), in a small room of the ‘White Horse’ Inn, near the quay, and his body was buried in the graveyard of St Sebastian.” His death is supposed to have been hastened by a scuffle with assassins in the pay of the orthodox medical faculty.

The last commentator on Paracelsus, Dr Franz Hartmann, has devoted a chapter to the alchemical and astrological teachings of the seer of Hohenheim. The first art, according to Paracelsus, separates the pure from the impure, and develops species out of primordial matter. It perfects what Nature has left imperfect, and, therefore, its principles are of universal application, and are not restricted to the metallic and mineral kingdoms. Gold can be made by physical chemistry, but the process is poor and unproductive in comparison with the gold which can be produced by an exercise of the occult powers which exist in the soul of man. Actual and material gold can be psycho-chemically manufactured. By this amazing theory, Paracelsus created a new school of alchemy, which abandoned experimental research, and sought within themselves the secret, subject, and end of alchemystical philosophy.

DENIS ZACHAIRE.

It appears that the true name of this persevering and indefatigable seeker after the end and truth of alchemy has not in reality come down to us, that which is placed at the head of his _Opusculum Chimicum_ being simply pseudonymous. It is to this little work that we are indebted for one of the most singular histories in the annals of the Hermetic art.

Denis Zachaire was born of a noble family, in an unmentioned part of Guienne, during the year 1510. He was sent, as a youth, to Bordeaux, under the care of a tutor, to prosecute the study of philosophy and _belles lettres_. His preceptor, however, had a passion for alchemy, and inoculated his pupil with the fatal fever of the sages. They speedily abandoned the common academical courses for the thorny pathways of the _magnum opus_, and Denis, in particular, devoted himself to the assiduous compilation of a vast volume of Hermetic receipts, indicating a thousand processes, with a thousand various materials, for the successful manufacture of gold. From Bordeaux he proceeded to Toulouse, still in the society of his tutor, and for the ostensible study of law, but in reality for the experimental practice of alchemy. Two hundred crowns with which they were supplied for their maintenance during the next two years were speedily expended in the purchase of furnaces, instruments, and drugs, for the literal execution of the processes contained in the books of the adepts.

“Before the end of the year,” as he himself informs us, “my two hundred crowns were gone in smoke, and my tutor died of a fever he took in summer from his close attention to the furnace, which he erected in his chamber, and stayed there continually in extreme heat. His death afflicted me much, and still more as my parents refused to supply me with money, except what was just necessary for my support. I was therefore unable to proceed in my grand work.

“To overcome these difficulties I went home in 1535, being of age, to put myself out of guardianship; and I disposed of some of my property for four hundred crowns. This sum was necessary to execute a process which was given me in Toulouse, by an Italian, who said he saw it proved. I kept him living with me, to see the end of his process.

“We dissolved gold and silver in various sorts of strong waters, but it was all in vain; we did not recover from the solution one half of the gold and silver which we had put into it. My four hundred crowns were reduced to two hundred and thirty, of which I gave twenty to the Italian, to proceed to Milan, where, he said, the author of the process lived, and whence he would return with his explanations. I remained at Toulouse all the winter, awaiting him, and I might have tarried there still, as I never have heard of him since.

“In the ensuing summer the city being visited by the plague, I went to Cahors, and there continued for six months. I did not lose sight of my work, and became acquainted with an old man who was called the philosopher, a name given in the country to any one of superior information. I communicated to him my practices and asked his advice. He mentioned ten or twelve processes which he thought better than others. I returned to Toulouse when the plague ceased, and renewed my labours accordingly. The only consequence was that my money was all spent, except one hundred and seventy crowns. To continue my operations with more certainty, I made acquaintance with an abbé, who dwelt in the neighbourhood of this city. He was taken with a passion for the same pursuit as myself, and he informed me that one of his friends, who lived with Cardinal Armanac, had sent him a process from Rome which he believed genuine, but it would cost two hundred crowns. I agreed to furnish one half of this sum, and he gave the rest, so we began to work together. Our process required a large supply of spirits of wine. I purchased a cask of excellent wine, from which I drew the spirit and rectified it many times. We took two pounds weight of it and half a pound weight of gold, which we had calcined for a month. These were included in a pelican and placed in a furnace. This work lasted a year, but, not to remain idle, we made some other experiments to amuse ourselves, and from which we expected to draw sufficient profit to pay the cost of our great work.

“The year 1537 passed over without any change appearing in the subject of our labours. We might have remained through our whole lives in the same state, for we should have known that the perfect metals are unaltered by vegetable or animal substances. We took out our powder and made projection upon hot quicksilver, but it was in vain! Judge then of our grief, especially as the abbé had notified to all his monks that they would have to melt the lead cistern of their house in order that he might convert it into gold as soon as our operations were finished.

“My bad success could not make me desist. I again raised four hundred crowns on my property; the abbé did the same, and I set out for Paris, a city containing more alchemists than any other in the world. I resolved to remain there as long as the eight hundred crowns lasted, or until I succeeded in my object. This journey drew on me the displeasure of my relations, and the censure of my friends, who imagined I was a studious lawyer. However, I made them believe that the design of my sojourn in Paris was the purchase of a situation in the law courts.

“After travelling for fifteen days I arrived at Paris in January 1539. I remained a month almost unknown, but no sooner had I visited the furnace makers and conversed with some amateurs than I became acquainted with more than a hundred artists, who were all at work in different ways. Some laboured to extract the mercury of metals and afterwards to fix it. A variety of systems were held by others, and scarcely a day passed in which some of them did not visit me, even on Sundays and the most sacred festivals of the Church, to hear what I had done.

“In these conversations one said:--‘If I had the means to begin again, I should produce something good.’ Another--‘Would that my vessel had been strong enough to resist the force of what it contained.’ Another--‘If I had possessed a round copper vessel well closed, I would have fixed mercury with silver.’ There was not one without a reasonable excuse for his failure, but I was deaf to all their discourses, recollecting my experience as the dupe of similar expectations.

“I was tempted, nevertheless, by a Greek who had a process with cinnabar, which failed. At the same time I became acquainted with a strange gentleman, newly arrived, who often, in my presence, sold the fruit of his operations to the goldsmiths. I was a long time frequenting his company, but he did not consent to inform me of his secret. At last I prevailed over him, but it was only a refinement of metals more ingenious than the rest. I failed not to write to the abbé, at Toulouse, enclosing a copy of the process of the stranger, and imagining that I had attained some useful knowledge, he advised me to remain another year at Paris, since I had made so good a beginning.

“After all, as to the philosophers’ stone, I succeeded no better than before. I had been three years at Paris, and my money was nearly expended, when I had a letter from the abbé, informing me that he had something to communicate, and that I should join him as soon as possible.

“On my arrival at Toulouse, I found that he had a letter from King Henry of Navarre, who was a lover of philosophy, and who requested that I should proceed to Pau, in Berne, to teach him the secret I had received from the stranger at Paris. He would recompense me with three or four thousand crowns. The mention of this sum exhilarated the abbé, and he never let me rest till I set out to wait on the prince. I arrived at Pau in May 1542. I found the prince a very curious personage. By his command I went to work, and succeeded according to the process I knew. When it was finished I obtained the expected recompense, but although the king wished to serve me further, he was dissuaded by the lords of his court, even by those who had engaged me to come to him. He dismissed me with great acknowledgments, desiring me to see if there was anything in his estates which would gratify me, such as confiscations or the like, and that he would give them to me with pleasure. These promises, which meant nothing, did not lead me to entertain the hopes of a courtier, and I returned to the abbé at Toulouse.

“On my road I heard of a religious man, who was very skilful in natural philosophy. I went to visit him; he lamented my misfortunes, and said, with a friendly zeal, that he advised me to amuse myself no longer with these various particular operations, which were all false and sophistical, but that I should rather peruse _the best books of the ancient philosophers_, as well to know _the true matter_ as the _right order that should be pursued_ in the practice of this science.

“I felt the truth of this safe counsel, but before I put it in execution, I went to see my friend at Toulouse, to give him an account of the eight hundred crowns that we had put in common, and to divide with him the recompense I had received from the King of Navarre. If he proved not content with all I told him, he was still less so at the resolution I had taken to discontinue my operations. Of our eight hundred crowns, we had but eighty-six left. I departed from him, and returned home, intending to go to Paris, and there remain until I was fixed in my theory of reading the works of the adepts. I reached Paris in 1546, and remained there a year, assiduously studying the _Turba Philosophorum_, the good Trévisan, the “Remonstrance of Nature,” and some other of the best books. But as I had no _first principles_, I knew not on what to determine.

“At length I went out of my solitude, not to see my old acquaintances, the searchers after particular tinctures and minor works, but to frequent those who proceeded in the great process by the books of the genuine adepts. I was, nevertheless, disappointed herein, by the confusion and disagreement of their theories, by the variety of their works, and of their different operations. Excited by a sort of inspiration, I gave myself up to the study of Raymond Lully and Arnold de Villa Nova. My reading and meditation continued another year. I then _formed my plan_, and only waited to sell the remainder of my land to enable me to go home, and put my resolution into practice. I commenced at Christmas, 1549, and after some preparations, having procured everything that was necessary, I began my process, not without inquietude and difficulty. A friend said to me:--“What are you going to do? have you not lost enough by this delusion?” Another assured me that if I continued to purchase so much coal, I should be suspected of counterfeiting coin, of which he had already heard a rumour. Another said I ought to follow my business of a lawyer. But I was chiefly tormented by my relations, who reproached me bitterly with my conduct, and threatened to bring the officers of justice into my house to break my furnaces in pieces.

“I leave you to judge my trouble and grief at this opposition. I found no consolation but in my work, which prospered from day to day, and to which I was very attentive. The interruption of all commerce, which was occasioned by the plague, gave me the opportunity of great solitude, in which I could examine with undisturbed satisfaction the success of the three colours which mark the true work. I thus arrived at the perfection of the tincture, and made an essay of its virtue on common quicksilver, on Easter Monday, 1550. In less than an hour it was converted into pure gold. You may guess how joyful I was, but I took care not to boast. I thanked God for the favour he shewed me, and prayed that I should be permitted to use it but for His glory.

“The next day I set out to find the abbé, according to the promise we gave each other, to communicate our discoveries. On my way, I called at the house of the religious man who had assisted me by his good advice. I had the grief to find that both he and the abbé had been dead about six months. I did not go back to my house, but sought another place, to await the arrival of one of my relations whom I had left at my dwelling. I sent him a procuration to sell all that I possessed, both house and furniture, to pay my debts, and to distribute the remainder among those of my relations who were in want. He soon after rejoined me, and we set out for Lausanne, in Switzerland, resolved to pass our days without ostentation in some of the celebrated cities of Germany.”

In his unknown retreat[V] the adept recorded his adventures and experiences when in search of the philosophical stone, _ut divertarem bonos piosque vivos, à sophisticationibus, ad viam rectam perfectionis in hoc opere divino_. His little work is entitled simply _Opusculum Chemicum_; it opens with the romantic narrative which I have cited almost _in extenso_. It calls Hermes _magnus propheta noster_, insists that the art is the gift of God alone on the authority of all the initiates, and quotes so largely from previous writers that it can scarcely be considered an original work on the Hermetic philosophy.

The life of Bernard Trévisan has abundantly testified to the physical nature of his object, which is amply confirmed by this treatise. The methods of projection upon metals, the composition of precious stones, and the application of the tincture as a medicine for the human body, are successively considered. One grain of the _divinum opus_, dissolved in white wine, transmutes that liquor into a rich citron colour, and has innumerable hygienic uses.

FOOTNOTES:

[V] See Appendix I.

BERIGARD OF PISA.

The following account of a transmutation performed by himself, is recorded by the celebrated Italian philosopher, Claude Berigard, and will be found on the twenty-fifth page of his _Circulus Pisanus_, published at Florence in 1641.

“I did not think that it was possible to convert quicksilver into gold, but an acquaintance thought proper to remove my doubt. He gave me about a drachm of a powder nearly of the colour of the wild poppy, and having a smell like calcined sea-salt. To avoid all imposition, I purchased a crucible, charcoal, and quicksilver, in which I was certain that there was no gold mixed. Ten drachms of quicksilver which I heated on the fire were on projection transmuted into nearly the same weight of good gold, which stood all tests. Had I not performed this operation in the most careful manner, taking every precaution against the possibility of doubt, I should not have believed it, but I am satisfied of the fact.”

CHARNOCK.

Thomas Charnock was born in the Isle of Thanet, in the year 1524. He calls himself an unlettered scholar, and student in astronomy and philosophy. He practised surgery, and, though he knew only the rudiments of Latin, it appears that he was famous in the neighbourhood of Salisbury, where he had established himself, for his accomplishments in the liberal sciences. He had two masters in alchemy, the first being Sir James S----, a priest, dwelling in the cloisters, near Salisbury, who informed Charnock that he did not derive his knowledge from any living adept, but that by meditation upon the words of the philosophers, he had mastered the principal secrets of alchemy as he lay in his bed, and had accordingly succeeded in making the silver powder.

The other master who instructed Charnock was a blind man, led by a boy, whom the neophyte accidentally discovered at an inn among other travellers, by a few words of the occult chemistry, which he perceived in his conversation. As soon as the company had retired, Charnock questioned the speaker, and requested instruction in natural philosophy. To this the adept objected that he was unacquainted with his interrogator, saying he would render up his knowledge to God who gave it, if he did not meet with a certain Master Charnock, the fame of whose learning and charity had reached him.

At these words Charnock made himself known, and the old man discoursed with him for an hour, during which time he found him expert in many mysteries of the sacred science. He promised Charnock that if he made a vow not to reveal the secret for gold, preferment, or through affection for great men, but only at death to one who was truly devoted to the search into nature, he would make him the heir of his knowledge. Accordingly, on the following Sunday they received the Eucharist together, and then, withdrawing into the middle of a large field, the boy was sent away out of hearing, and, in a few words, the blind man uttered “the mystery of mineral prudence.” Their conversations were continued for nine days. The secrets of alchemy were disclosed, and the adept also related his own private history, acquainting Charnock that his name was William Bird, that he had been a prior of Bath, and had defrayed the expense of repairing the abbey church from treasure which he had acquired by means of the red and white elixirs. At the suppression of the abbey, he concealed the inestimable powder in the wall, and returning in ten days it was gone. He found a few rags in the place where he had left it. This misfortune almost deprived him of his senses; he wandered about, and lost his sight. He was therefore unable to repeat his process, and continued to travel over the country, led by a boy. He had received his Hermetic knowledge from a servant of Ripley.

At the time of this communication, Charnock was twenty-eight years old, and two years after his first master fell sick while attending his furnace for the completion of the red stone. He sent for Charnock, made him the heir of his work, and died after giving him instructions how to proceed. Charnock began his operations on the materials left by his leader, and was much perplexed by the difficulty of keeping the fire equal. He often started out of his sleep to examine the fuel; but after all his care, which continued during the space of several months, the frame of wood that covered the furnace took fire during a short period of his absence, and when, smelling the burning, he ran up to his laboratory, he discovered that his work was completely destroyed. This occurred on January 1, 1555. To repair the mischief he was obliged to recommence at the first part of the process, and he hired a servant to assist in taking care of the fire. In the course of two months certain signs filled him with hopes of success, when his dependence on his servant proved the ruin of his work. He discovered that this unfaithful assistant would let the fire nearly out, and then, to conceal his neglect, would rekindle it with grease till it was so hot as to scorch the matter beyond recovery.

In the third attempt, Charnock resolved to proceed without help. His fire cost him three pounds a week, and he was obliged to sell some rings and jewels to maintain it. He made good progress in the course of eight months, and expected to be rewarded in a little time for all his labours; but at this critical period he was impressed to serve as a soldier at the siege of Calais. Furious with disappointment, he took a hatchet, smashed his glasses, furnace, and apparatus, and threw them out of the house.

He wrote his “Breviary of Philosophy” in 1557, and the “Enigma of Alchemy” in 1572, with a memorandum, dated 1574, when he was fifty years old. Therein he declares his attainment of the gold-producing powder when his hairs were white. The “Breviary” claims to describe all the vessels and instruments which are required in the science; a potter, a joiner, and a glassmaker must lend their several services. The address of one of these artificers, specially recommended by the author, is said to be Chiddinfold in Sussex; he could manufacture egg-shaped glasses which opened and shut “as close as a hair.” The regulation of the philosophical fire is described in this curious poem, but the rest of its information is of a purely autobiographical kind.

GIOVANNI BRACCESCO.

This alchemist of Brescia flourished in the sixteenth century. He was the author of a commentary on Geber, which is not supposed to cast much light on the obscurities of the Arabian philosopher. The most curious of his original treatises is _Legno della Vita, vel quale si dichiara la medecina per la quale i nostri primi padri vivevano nove cento anni_, Rome, 1542, 8vo.--“The Wood of Life, wherein is revealed the medicine by means of which our Primeval Ancestors lived for Nine Hundred Years.” This work, together with _La Esposizione di Geber Filosophe_, Venice, 1544, 8vo, was translated into Latin, and may be found in the collections of Gratarole and Mangetus. They were also published separately under the title _De Alchimia dialogi duo_, Lugd., 1548, 4to. The Wood of Life is one of the innumerable names given by the alchemists to the matured and perfected stone, the composition whereof is the accomplishment of the _magnum opus_. It is more generally denominated the Universal Balsam or Panacea, which cures all diseases and insures to its most blessed possessor an unalterable youth. The name Wood of Life is bestowed by the Jews on the two sticks which confine the scroll of the Law. They are convinced that a simple contact with these sacred rods strengthens the eyesight and restores health. They also hold that there is no better means of facilitating the _accouchement_ of females than to cause them to behold these vitalising sticks, which, however, they are in no wise permitted to touch.[W]

The work of Braccesco is written in the form of a dialogue, and is explanatory of the Hermetic principles of Raymond Lully, one of the interlocutors, who instructs an enthusiastic disciple in the arcane principles of the divine art, the disciple in question being in search of a safeguard against the numerous infirmities and weaknesses of the “humid radical.” Such a medicine is declared by the master to be extracted from a single substance, which is the sophic _aqua metallorum_. The dialogue is of interest, as it shows the connection in the mind of the writer between the development of metallic perfection and the physical regeneration of humanity.

FOOTNOTES:

[W] _Dictionnaire des Sciences Occultes_, i. p. 232.

LEONARDI FIORAVANTI.

Doctor, surgeon, and alchemist of the sixteenth century, this Italian was a voluminous author, who is best known by his “Summary of the Arcana of Medicine, Surgery, and Alchemy,” published in octavo at Venice in 1571, and which has been reprinted several times. It contains an application of Hermetic methods and principles to the science of medicine, but the author’s account of the _petra philosophorum_ shows the designation to be of a purely arbitrary kind, for it is a mixture of mercury, nitre, and other substances, intended to act on the stomach, and has no connection with the transmuting _lapis_ of the alchemical sages.

JOHN DEE.

The life of this pseudo-adept, and of Edward Kelly, his companion in alchemy, is involved in a cloud of necromancy and magico-Hermetical marvels, so that the fabulous and historical elements are not to be easily separated.

The true name of Edward Kelly is supposed to have been Talbot. He is said to have been born at Worcester in 1555, and to have followed the profession of a lawyer in London. His talents in penmanship appear to have been utilised in the falsification of deeds. He was prosecuted at Lancaster, according to a narrative of his enemies, for an offence of this nature, and was condemned to lose his ears. By some he is said to have suffered this punishment,[X] by others to have evaded it, seeking safety in Wales, where he lodged at an obscure inn, and concealed his identity by adopting a new name. During this sojourn an old manuscript was shown him by the innkeeper, which was indecipherable by himself or his neighbours. The so-called Edward Kelly, being initiated into the mysteries of ancient writing, discovered it to be a treatise on transmutation, and his curiosity was highly excited. He inquired as to its history, and was told that it had been discovered in the tomb of a bishop who had been buried in a neighbouring church, and whose tomb had been sacrilegiously uptorn by some wretched heretical fanatics at that epoch of furious religiomania and rampant Elizabethan persecution. The object of this desecration was the discovery of concealed treasures in the resting-place of the prelate, to whom immense riches were attributed by popular tradition. The impiety was, however, rewarded by nothing but the manuscript in question, and two small ivory bottles, respectively containing a ponderous red and white powder. These pearls beyond price were rejected by the pigs of apostasy; one of them was shattered on the spot, and its ruddy, celestine contents for the most part lost. The remnant, together with the remaining bottle and the unintelligible manuscript, were speedily disposed of to the innkeeper in exchange for a skinful of wine. The unbroken bottle was transferred by the new owner as a plaything to his children, but the providence which in the main overwatches the accomplishment of the sublime act preserved its contents intact. When Edward Kelly, with an assumed antiquarian indifference about objects which were more curious than valuable, offered a pound sterling for all the articles, a bargain was promptly effected. The lawyer was by no means an alchemist, but he believed himself possessed of a Hermetic treasure; he determined, at all risks, to return to London, and consult with his friend Dr Dee, who abode in a cottage at Mortlake, and who, in matters of magical devilment, and in the tortuosities of the occult, was considered a man of men.

Whether he had been accused of forgery, whether he had lost his ears, or not, the discovery of Edward Kelly caused the necromantic doctor to be blind to his faults or his crimes; he at once set to work in his company, in the year 1579, and in the month of December a stupendous success was the crown of their labour in common. The richness of Kelly’s tincture proved to be one upon two hundred and seventy-two thousand two hundred and thirty; but they lost much gold in experiments before they knew the extent of its power. In Dr Dee’s “Diary in Germany” he mentions the book of St Dunstan, which is probably the manuscript of Kelly, and also the powder “found at the digging in England,” which indicates some foundation for the narrative just given. The place where the treasure was obtained is reported to have been the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, founded by St Dunstan. The last abbot was hanged by Henry VIII. for his adherence to the Papal cause.

Kelly appears to have taken up his quarters at Islington. In June 1583 an attachment was issued against him for coining, of which his companion declares him guiltless. In the following September, Dr Dee, his wife and children, and Edward Kelly, with his wife, accompanied by a certain Lord Albert Alasco, of Siradia, in Poland, departed from London for Cracow. As soon as they had arrived in the north of Germany, Dr Dee received a letter from one of his friends in England, informing him that his library at Mortlake had been seized and partially destroyed, on the vulgar report of his unlawful studies, and that his rents and property were sequestered. Despite the possession of the Donum Dei, all parties appear to have been in considerable penury in consequence.