a counsel how they should make, & prepare the Philosophers stone, and
they concluded that every one should declare his opinion with a vow.
And that meeting was in the open aire, in a certaine meadow, on a faire
cleer day. And many agreed that Mercury was the first matter thereof,
others that Sulphur was, and others other things. But the chiefest
opinion was of Mercury, and that especially because of the sayings of
Philosophers, because they hold, that Mercury is the first true matter
of the Stone, also of Metalls: For Philosophers cry out, and say, OUR
MERCURY, &c. And so whilest they did contend amongst themselves for
divers operations (every one gladly expecting a conclusion) there
arose in the mean time a very great tempest, with stormes, showers
of rain, and an unheard of wind, which dispersed that assembly into
divers Provinces, every one apart without a conclusion. Yet every one
of them fancied to himselfe what the conclusion of that dispute should
have been. Every one therefore set upon his work as before, one in
this thing, another in that thing seeking the Philosophers Stone, and
this is done till this day without any giving over. Now one of them
remembring the disputation, that the Philosophers Stone is necessarily
to be sought after in Mercury, said to himself: Although there was no
conclusion made, yet I wil work in Mercury, and will make a conclusion
my self in making the blessed Stone; for he was a man that was alwaies
wont to talk to himselfe, as indeed all _Alchymists_ usually doe. Hee
therefore began to read the books of Philosophers, and fell upon a
booke of _Alanus_, which treats of Mercury; and so that Alchymist is
made a Philosopher, but without any conclusion: And taking Mercury
he began to work; hee put it into a glass, and put fire to it, the
Mercury as it is wont to do, vapoured away, the poor silly Alchymist
not knowing the nature of it, beat his wife, saying: No body could
come hither besides thee, thou tookest the Mercury out of the glass.
His wife crying excuseth her self, and speaks softly to her husband:
Thou wilt make a sir-reverence of these. The Alchymist tooke Mercury
again, and put it again into his vessell, and lest his wife should
take it away, watched it. But the Mercury, as its manner is, vapoured
away again. The Alchymist remembring that the first matter of the
Philosophers Stone must be volatile, rejoiced exceedingly, altogether
perswading himselfe that he could not now be deceived, having the
first matter: Hee began now to work upon Mercury boldly, he learned
afterwards to sublime it, and to calcine it divers ways, as with Salt,
Sulphur, and Metalls, Mineralls, Bloud, Haire, Corrosive waters, Herbs,
Urine, Vineger, but could find nothing for his purpose; hee left
nothing unassayed in the whole world, with which hee did not work upon
good Mercury withall. But when he could doe no good at all with this,
hee fell upon this saying——_that it is found in the dung-hill_. He
began to worke upon Mercury with divers sorts of dung, together, and
asunder: And when hee was weary, and full of thoughts he fell into a
sleep. And in his sleep there appeared to him a vision: there came
to him an old man, who saluted him, and said; Friend, Why art thou
sad? Hee answered, I would willingly make the Philosophers Stone.
Then said he, Friend, Of what wilt thou make the Philosophers Stone?
_Alchymista._ Of Mercury, Sir. _Senex._ Of what Mercury? _Alch._ There
is but one Mercury. _Sen._ It is true, there is but one Mercury, but
altered variously, according to the variety of places; one is purer
then another. _Alch._ O Sir, I know how to purifie it very well with
vineger and salt, with nitre and vitriall. _Sen._ I tell thee this
is not the true purifying of it, neither is this, thus purifyed, the
true Mercury: Wise men have another Mercury, and another manner of
purifying of it, and so he vanished away. The Alchymist being raised
from sleep thought with himselfe what vision this should be, as also
what this Mercury of Philosophers should be: hee could bethinke
himselfe of no other but the vulgar Mercury. But yet hee desired much
that hee might have had a longer discourse with the old man: but yet
hee worked continually, sometimes in the dung of living creatures,
as boyes dung, and sometimes in his own. And every day hee went to
the place, where hee saw the vision, that he might speak with the old
man again: sometimes hee counterfeited a sleep, and lay with his eyes
shut expecting the old man. But when he would not come he thought he
was afraid of him, and would not beleeve that he was asleep, he swore
therefore saying, My good old Master be not afraid, for truly I am
asleep; look upon my eyes, see if I be not: And the poor Alchymist
after so many labours, and the spending of all his goods, now at last
fel mad, by alwaies thinking of the old man. And when hee was in that
strong imagination, there appeared to him in his sleep a false vision,
in the likenesse of the old man, and said to him, Doe not despaire, my
friend, thy Mercury is good, and thy matter, but if it will not obey
thee, conjure it, that it bee not volatile; Serpents are used to be
conjured, and then why not Mercury? and so the old man would leave him.
But the Alchymist asked of him, saying, Sir, expect, &c. And by reason
of a noise this poore Alchymist was raised from sleep, yet not without
great comfort. He took then a vessell full of Mercury, and began to
conjure it divers wayes, as his dream taught him. And hee remembred the
words of the old man, in that hee said, _Serpents are conjured_, and
Mercury is painted with Serpents, hee thought, so it must bee conjured
as the Serpents. And taking a vessell with Mercury hee began to say,
_Ux, Vx, Ostas, &c._ And where the name of the Serpent should be put,
he put the name of Mercury, saying: And thou wicked beast Mercury, &c.
At which words Mercury began to laugh, and to speak unto him saying,
What wilt thou have, that thou thus troublest mee my Master Alchymist?
_Alch._ O ho, now thou callest me Master, when I touch thee to the
quick, now I have found where thy bridle is, wait a little, and by and
by thou shalt sing my song, and he began to speak to him, as it were
angerly, Art thou that Mercury of Philosophers? _Merc._ (as if he were
afraid answered) I am Mercury, my Master. _Alch._ Why therefore wilt
not thou obey mee? and why could not I fix thee? _Merc._ O my noble
Master, I beseech thee pardon mee, wretch that I am, I did not know
that thou wast so great a Philosopher. _Alch._ Didst not thou perceive
this by my operations, seeing I proceeded so Philosophically with thee?
_Merc._ So it is, my noble Master, although I would hide my selfe, yet
I see I cannot from so honourable a Master as thou art. _Alch._ Now
therefore dost thou know a Philosopher? _Merc._ Yea, my Master, I see
that your worship is a most excellent Philosopher. _Alch._ (being glad
at his heart saith) truly now I have found what I sought for. (Again
he spake to Mercury with a most terrible voice:) Now go to, be now
therefore obedient, or else it shall be the worse for thee. _Merc._
Willingly, my Master, if I am able, for now I am very weake. _Alch._
Why dost thou now excuse thy selfe? _Merc._ I doe not, my Master, but
I am faint and feeble. _Alch._ What hurts thee? _Merc._ The Alchymist
hurts mee. _Alch._ What, dost thou still deride mee? _Merc._ O Master,
no, I speak of the Alchymist, but thou art a Philosopher. _Alch._ O
wel, well, that is true, but what hath the Alchymist done? _Merc._ O
my Master, hee hath done many evill things to mee, for hee hath mixed
mee, poor wretch as I am, with things contrary to mee: from whence I
shall never bee able to recover my strength, and I am almost dead,
for I am tormented almost unto death. _Alch._ O thou deservest those
things, for thou art disobedient. _Merc._ I was never disobedient to
any Philosopher, but it is naturall to mee to deride fools. _Alch._
And what dost thou think of mee? _Merc._ O Sir, you are a great man,
a very great Philosopher, yea greater then _Hermes_ himselfe. _Alch._
Truly so it is, I am a learned man, but I will not commend my selfe,
but my Wife also said to mee, that I am a very learned Philosopher, she
knew so much by me. _Merc._ I am apt to beleeve thee, for Philosophers
must be so, who by reason of too much wisdome, and pains fall mad.
_Alch._ Goe to then, tell me therefore what I shall doe with thee;
how I shall make the Philosophers Stone of thee. _Merc._ O my Master
Philosopher, I know not, Thou art a Philosopher, I am a servant of the
Philosophers, they make of me what they please, I obey them as much as
I am able. _Alch._ Thou must tell mee how I must proceed with thee,
and how I may make of thee the Philosophers Stone. _Merc._ If thou
knowest, thou shall make it, but if thou knowest not, thou shalt doe
nothing, thou shalt know nothing by mee, if thou knowest not already
my Master Philosopher. _Alch._ Thou speakest to mee as to some simple
man, perhaps thou dost not know that I have worked with Princes, and
was accounted a Philosopher with them. _Merc._ I am apt to beleeve thee
my Master, for I know all this very wel, I am yet foul, and unclean
by reason of those mixtures that thou hast used. _Alch._ Therefore
tell mee, art thou the Mercury of Philosophers? _Merc._ I am Mercury,
but whether or no the Philosophers, that belongs to thee to know.
_Alch._ Do but tell me if thou art the true Mercury, or if there be
another. _Merc._ I am Mercury, but there is another, and so he vanished
away. The Alchymist cries out and speaks, but no body answers him.
And bethinking himselfe saith: Surely I am an excellent man, Mercury
hath been pleased to talke with mee, surely hee loves mee: and then
he began to sublime Mercury, distil, calcine, make Turbith of him,
precipitate, and dissolve him divers wayes, and with divers waters,
but as hee laboured in vain before, so now also he hath spent his
time, and costs to no purpose. Wherefore at last hee begins to curse
Mercury, and revile Nature because shee made him. Now Nature when she
heard these things called Mercury to her, and said to him: What hast
thou done to this man? Why doth he curse and revile me for thy sake?
Why dost not thou doe what thou oughtest to doe? But Mercury modestly
excuseth himself. Yet Nature commands him to be obedient to the sons
of Wisdome, that seek after him. Mercury promiseth that he will, and
saith: Mother Nature, but who can satisfie fools? Nature went away
smiling: but Mercury being angry with the Alchymist goes also unto his
own place. After a few days it came into the Alchymists mind, that
he omitted something in his operations, and again hee hath recourse
to Mercury, and now resolves to mix him with hogs dung; but Mercury
being angry that he had falsly accused him before his mother Nature,
saith to the Alchymist, What wilt thou have of me thou foole? Why
hast thou thus accused mee? _Alch._ Art thou he that _I_ have longed
to see? _Merc._ _I_ am, but no man that is blind can see mee. _Alch._
_I_ am not blind. _Merc._ Thou art very blind, for thou canst not see
thy selfe, how then canst thou see mee? _Alch._ O now thou art proud,
_I_ speak civilly to thee, and thou contemnest mee: thou dost not know
perhaps that I have worked with many Princes, and was esteemed as a
Philosopher amongst them. _Merc._ Fools flock to Princes Courts, for
there they are honoured, and fare better then others. Wast thou also
at the Court? _Alch._ O thou art a devill, and not a good Mercury, if
thou wilt speak thus to Philosophers: for before thou didst also seduce
me thus. _Mer._ Dost thou know Philosophers? _Alch._ I my self am a
Philosopher. _Merc._ Behold our Philosopher (smiling said: and began
to talke further with him saying) My Philosopher, tell mee therefore
what thou seekest after, and what thou wilt have, what dost thou desire
to make? _Alch._ The Philosophers stone. _Merc._ Out of what matter
therefore wilt thou make it? _Alch._ Of our Mercury. _Merc._ O my
Philosopher, now I wil leave you, for I am not yours. _Alch._ O thou
art but a devill, and wilt seduce mee. _Merc._ Truly my Philosopher
thou art a devill to mee, not I to thee: for thou dost deale most
sordidly with mee, after a devillish manner. _Alch._ O what doe I hear?
this certainly is a devill indeed, for I do all things according to the
writings of Philosophers, and know very well how to work. _Merc._ Thou
knowest very well, for thou dost more then thou knowest, or readst of:
for the Philosophers said, that Nature is to be mixed with Natures;
and they command nothing to bee done without Nature; but thou dost mix
mee with almost all the sordidst things that bee, as dung. _Alch._ I
doe nothing besides Nature; but I sow seed into its own earth, as the
Philosophers have said. _Merc._ Thou sowest mee in dung, and in time
of harvest I do vanish away, and thou art wont to reap dung. _Alc._
Yet so the Philosophers have wrote, that in the dunghill their matter
is to be sought for. _Merc._ It is true what they have written; but
thou understandest their letter, and not their sense, and meaning.
_Alch._ Now happily I see that thou art Mercury; but thou wilt not obey
mee. And he began to conjure him again, saying, _Vx Vx_. But Mercury
laughing answered, Thou shalt doe no good, my friend. _Alch._ They do
not speak without ground, when they say thou art of a strange nature,
inconstant, and volatile. _Merc._ Dost thou say, that I am inconstant,
I resolve thee thus, I am constant unto a constant Artificer; fixed
to him, that is of a fixed mind, but thou, and such as thou art, are
inconstant, running from one thing unto another, from one matter unto
another. _Alch._ Tell me therefore if thou art that Mercury, which the
Philosophers wrote of, which they said was, together with sulphur,
and salt the principall of all things, or must I seek after another?
_Mer._ Truly the fruit doth not fal far from the tree, but I seek not
mine own praise, I am the same as I was, but my years are differing.
From the beginning I was young, so long as I was alone, but now I am
older, yet the same as I was before. _Alch._ Now thou pleasest me,
because now thou art older: for I alwaies sought after such a one,
that was more ripe, and fixed, that I might so much the more easily
accord with him. _Merc._ Thou dost in vain look after mee in my old
age, who didst not know mee in my youth. _Alch._ Did not I know thee,
who have worked with thee divers wayes, as thou thy selfe hast said?
and yet I will not leave off till I have made the Philosophers Stone.
_Merc._ O what a miserable case am I in? What shall I do? I must now be
mixed again with dung, and be tormented. O wretch that I am! I beseech
thee good Master Philosopher, doe not mix me so much with hogs dung;
for otherwise I shall be undone, for by reason of this stink I am
constrained to change my shape. And what wilt thou have mee doe more?
Am not I tormented sufficiently by thee? Doe not I obey thee? Doe not
I mixe my self with those things thou wilt have me? Am I not sublimed?
Am I not precipitated? Am I not made turbith? An Amalgama? A Past? Now
what canst thou desire more of me? My body is so scourged, so spit
upon, that the very stone would pity me: By vertue of me thou hast
milk, flesh, bloud, butter, oyl, water, and which of all the metalls,
or mineral can do that which I do alone? and is there no mercy to be
had towards me? O what a wretch am I! _Alc._ O ho, it doth not hurt
thee, thou art wicked, although thou turnest thy self inside out, yet
thou dost not change thy selfe, thou dost but frame to thy selfe a new
shape, thou dost alwaies return into thy first forme again. _Merc._
I doe as thou wilt have me, if thou wilt have me be a body, I am a
body: if thou will have me be dust, I am dust, I know not how I should
abase my self more, then when I am dust, and a shadow. _Alch._ Tell
mee therefore what thou art in thy Center, and I will torment thee no
more. _Merc._ Now I am constrained to tell from the very foundation.
If thou wilt thou maist understand mee: thou seest my shape, and of
this thou needest not know further. But because thou askest mee of the
Center, my Center is the most fixed heart of all things, immortall,
and penetrating: in that my Master rests, but I my selfe am the way,
and the passenger, I am a stranger, and yet live at home, I am most
faithfull to all my companions, I leave not those that doe accompany
mee; I abide with them, I perish with them. I am an immortall body: I
die indeed when I am slaine, but I rise againe to judgement before a
wise Judge. _Alch._ Art thou therefore the Philosophers Stone? _Merc._
My mother is such a one, of her is born artificially one certain
thing, but my brother who dwells in the fort, hath in his will what
the Philosophers desire. _Alch._ Art thou old? _Merc._ My mother begat
mee, but I am older then my mother. _Alch._ What devill can understand
thee, when thou dost not answer to the purpose? thou alwaies speakest
Riddles. Tell mee if thou art that fountain of which _Bernard_ Lord
_Trevisan_ writ? _Merc._ I am not the fountaine, but I am the water,
the fountaine compasseth mee about. _Alch._ Is gold dissolved in thee,
when thou art water? _Merc._ Whatsoever is with mee I love as a friend;
and whatsoever is brought forth with mee, to that I give nourishment,
and whatsoever is naked, I cover with my wings. _Alch._ I see it is
to no purpose to speak to thee, I ask one thing, and thou answerest
another thing: if thou wilt not answer to my question, truly I will goe
to work with thee again. _Merc._ O master, I beseech thee be good to
me, now I will willingly doe what I know. _Alch._ Tell mee therefore
if thou art afraid of the fire. _Merc._ I am fire my selfe. _Alch._
And why then dost thou fly from the fire? _Merc._ My spirit, and the
spirit of the fire love one another, and whither one goes, the other
goes if it can. _Alch._ And whither dost thou goe, when thou ascendest
with the fire? _Merc._ Know that every stranger bends towards his own
countrey, and when he is returned from whence he came, hee is at rest,
and alwaies returnes wiser, then he was when he came forth. _Alch._
Dost thou come back again sometimes? _Merc._ I doe, but in another
forme. _Alch._ I do not understand what this is, nor any thing of the
fire. _Merc._ If any one knew the fire of my heart, hee hath seen that
fire (a due heat) is my meat: and by how much the longer the spirit
of my heart feeds upon fire, it will be so much the fatter, whose
death is afterward the life of all things, whatsoever they bee in this
Kingdome where I am. _Alch._ Art thou great? _Merc._ I am thus for
example, of a thousand drops I shall be one, out of one I give many
thousand drops: and as my body is in thy sight, if thou knowest how to
sport with mee, thou maist divide me into as much as thou wilt, and I
shall be one again: What then is my spirit (my heart) intrinsecally,
which alwaies can bring forth many thousands out of the least part?
_Alch._ And how therefore must one deale with thee that thou maist be
so? _Merc._ I am fire within, fire is my meat, but the life of the
fire is aire, without aire the fire is extinguished; the fire prevails
over the aire, wherefore I am not at rest, neither can the crude aire
constringe, or bind mee: adde aire to aire, that both may be one, and
hold weight, join it to warme fire, and give it time. _Alch._ What
shall bee after that? _Merc._ The superfluous shall be taken away, the
residue thou shalt burn with fire, put it into water, boyl it, after
it is boyled thou shalt give it to the sick by way of physick. _Alch._
Thou saist nothing to my questions. I see that thou wilt only delude
mee with Riddles. Wife, bring hither the hogs dung, I will handle that
Mercury some new wayes, untill hee tell mee how the Philosophers Stone
is to bee made of him. Mercury hearing this begins to lament over the
Alchymist, and goes unto his mother Nature: accuseth the ungratefull
operator. Nature beleeves her son Mercury, who tells true, and being
moved with anger comes to the Alchymist, and calls him; Ho thou, Where
art thou? _Alchym._ Who is that, thus calls mee? _Natura._ What dost
thou with my son, thou fool thou? Why dost thou thus injure him? Why
dost thou torment him? who is willing to doe thee any good, if thou
couldst understand so much. _Alch._ What devill reprehends me, so
great a man, and Philosopher? _Nat._ O fool ful of pride, the dung of
Philosophers, I know all Philosophers, and wise men, and I love them,
for they love me, and doe all things for me at my pleasure, and whither
I cannot goe they help me. But you Alchymists, of whose order thou also
art one, without my knowledg, and consent, doe all things contrary unto
me; wherefore it falls out contrary to your expectation. You think that
you deal with my sons rationally, but you perfect nothing; and if you
will consider rightly, you do not handle them, but they handle you: for
you can make nothing of them, neither know you how to do it, but they
of you when they please, make fooles. _Alch._ It is not true: I also am
a Philosopher, and know well how to worke, I have been with more then
one Prince, and was esteemed a Philosopher amongst them, my wife also
knows the same, and now also I have a manuscript, which was hid some
hundreds of years in an old wall, now I certainly know I shall make
the Philosophers Stone, as also within these few dayes it was revealed
to mee in a dreame. O I am wont to have true dreams; Wife thou knowest
it! _Natur._ Thou shalt doe as the rest of thy fellowes have done, who
in the beginning know all things, and thinke they are very knowing,
but in conclusion know nothing. _Alch._ Yet others have made it of
thee (if thou art the true Nature.) _Nat._ It is true, but only they
that knew me, and they are very few. But hee which knowes mee doth not
torment my Sons; nor disturbe mee, but doth to mee what hee pleaseth,
and increaseth my goods, and heals the bodies of my sons. _Alch._
Even so do I. _Natur._ Thou dost all things contrary to mee, and dost
proceed with my Sonnes contrary to my will: when thou shouldst revive,
thou killest; when fix, thou sublimest; when calcine, thou distillest;
especially my most observant Sonne Mercury, whom thou tormentest with
so many corrosive waters, and so many poisonous things. _Alch._ Then I
will proceed with him sweetly by digestion only. _Natur._ It is well
if thou knowest how to doe it, but if not, thou shalt not hurt him,
but thy selfe, and expose thy selfe to charges, for it is all one with
him, as with a gem, which is mixed with dung, that is alwaies good,
and the dung doth not diminish it, although it be cast upon it, for
when it is washed, it is the same gemme as it was before. _Alch._ But
I would willingly know how to make the Philosophers Stone. _Natur._
Therefore doe not handle my Son in that fashion: for know, that I
have many Sonnes, and many Daughters, and I am ready at hand to them
that seek mee, if they bee worthy of mee. _Alch._ Tell me therefore
who that Mercury is? _Nat._ Know that I have but one such Sonne, and
hee is one of seven, and hee is the first; and hee is all things, who
was but one; hee is nothing, and his number is entire; in him are the
foure Elements, and yet himselfe is no Element; he is a spirit, and
yet hath a body; he is a man, and yet acts the part of a woman; hee
is a child, and yet bears the armes of a man; hee is a beast, and yet
hath the wings of a bird; hee is poison, yet cureth the leprosie; he
is life, yet kills all things; hee is a King, yet another possesseth
his Kingdome; hee flyeth from the fire, yet fire is made of him; hee
is water, yet wets not; hee is earth, yet hee is sowed; hee is aire,
yet lives in water. _Alch._ Now I see that I know nothing, but I dare
not say so, for then I should lose my reputation, and my neighbors
will lay out no more money upon mee, if they should know that I know
nothing: yet I will say that I doe certainly know, or else no body
will give mee so much as bread: for many of them hope for much good
from mee. _Natur._ Although thou shouldst put them off a great while,
yet what will become of thee at last? and especially if thy neighbours
should demand their charges of thee again? _Alch._ I will feed all of
them with hope, as much as possibly I can. _Natur._ And then what wilt
thou doe at last? _Alch._ I will try many ways privately: if either
of them succeed, I will pay them; if not, I will goe into some other
far Country, and doe the like there. _Natur._ And what will become of
thee afterward? _Alch._ Ha, ha, ha, there bee many countryes, also many
covetous men, to whom I will promise great store of Gold, and that in a
short time, and so the time shall passe away, till at last either I, or
they must die Kings, or Asses. _Natur._ Such Philosophers deserve the
halter: fie upon thee, make hast and be hanged, and put an end to thy
self, and thy Philosophy; for by this meanes thou shalt neither deceive
mee, thy neighbour, or thy self.
[Illustration: *decorative divider*]
A TREATISE OF SVLPHVR:
_The Preface._
COURTEOUS READER,
Seeing I might not write more cleerly, then other ancient Philosophers
have wrote; haply thou mayst not bee satisfied with my writings:
especially since thou hast so many other bookes of Philosophers already
in thy hands: but beleeve me, neither have I any need to write books,
because I seek neither profit, nor vain glory by them; therefore I doe
not publish who I am. Those things which I have now publisht for thy
profit, and advantage, seem to mee to be more then enough; I purpose
that other things, which remain, shall bee referred to the book of
Harmony, where I have largely treated of naturall things: yet by the
perswasion of some friends I must needs also write this Treatise of
Sulphur; in which whether it be needfull to adde any thing to what
is written before, I know not. Yea, neither shall this satisfie thee,
if the writings of so many Philosophers cannot satisfie thee: And
especially, if the daily operation of Nature bee not a sufficient
example, no other examples shall doe thee good. For if thou wouldst
consider with a mature judgement, how Nature works, thou wouldst not
have need of so many volumes of Philosophers: because in my judgement
it is better to learn of Nature the Mistris, then of her scholars.
Thou hast enough in the Preface of the book of the Twelve Treatises,
as also in the First Treatise it self, because in this Art there be
so many, and so great books to bee found, that they rather hinder,
then help those that are studious of this Art: and so indeed it seems
to be, because the Writings of Philosophers are out of that little
Schedule of _Hermes_ grown up unto so great, and erroneous a Labyrinth,
and daily doe decline into obscurity: And this I beleeve is done only
by envious Philosophers, when as the ignorant doe not well know what
ought to be added, or left out, if haply the Authours hand cannot
well be read. If in any Science, or Art it doth much help, or hurt
to have one word lacking, or added, then much more in this: As for
example: It is written in one place: _Then mix these waters together_,
another addes _Not_, hee indeed added but a little, and yet by this he
turned the whole Chapter quite contrary: yet let the diligent Student
know, that a Bee doth gather honey out of poisonous hearbs. But if he
judgeth what hee reads, according to the possibility of Nature, hee
will easily get beyond all the Sophistry of Philosophers: yet let him
not give over reading, because one booke explaines another. And by
this meanes I understood that the bookes of _Geber_ the Philosopher
(and who could know it, but they that read other Authours?) are so
wonderfully enchanted, that they cannot possibly be understood, unlesse
they be read over a thousand times, and this also by a witty Reader;
fooles must bee utterly excluded from reading of them. There bee indeed
many that undertake to interpret him as they doe other Authors; but
I see their explication is more difficult then the text: My advice
is, that thou dost persist in the text, and whatsoever thou readest
apply to the possibility of Nature; and in the first place enquire
diligently what Nature is. All indeed write, that shee is a thing of
small account, easy, common; and indeed it is true, but it should have
been added, that shee is so unto wise men. The wise man knows her to
be amongst dung, and the ignorant man doth not beleeve her to bee in
gold. And all these men, which have made such hard bookes, if they
were now ignorant of the Art, but must find it out of such bookes
(which books indeed are very true) would with more difficulty find it
out, then men, that in these days search into the art, doe. I will not
commend mine owne Writings, hee shall judge of them that shall apply
them to the possibility, and course of Nature; and if by my Writings,
Counsell, Examples, hee shall not know the operation of Nature, and her
ministring vitall spirits constringing the aire, as also the subject
of the first matter, hee will scarce understand them by _Raimundus
Lullius_. It is a hard thing to beleeve that spirits have such a power
and force in the belly of the wind. This Wood I also am constrained
to goe through, and also I have helped to multiply it, yet in such a
manner as my plants shall be signes, a light, and guides to the true
Sons of Art, and Students in this sacred Science, that are willing to
goe through this Wood; for my plants are as it were corporeall. Those
times are now past, when fidelity amongst friends flourished, and this
Art was communicated by word of mouth; but now it is not obtained but
by the inspiration of the most high God alone. Therefore let not him
that searcheth diligently, and fears God despaire. If he seeks after
it, hee shall find it. Because it is more easily obtained from God,
then from man: for hee is a God of infinite compassion, and knowes
not how to forsake him that puts his trust in him; with him there is
no respect of persons; the contrite and humble heart hee will not
despise, and hee hath taken compassion upon mee, the most unworthy of
his creatures; whose power, goodness, unspeakable compassion which
he hath vouchsafed to shew to mee, I am not able to expresse: but if
I am able to give no better thankes, yet I shall not cease with my
pen to set forth his praise for ever. Bee of good courage therefore,
Courteous Reader, and hee will also not deny this favour to thee, if
thou puttest thy whole trust in him, worship him, and call upon him,
hee will open to thee the gate of Nature; then thou shalt see how most
plainly Nature works. Know for certain that Nature is most plain, and
simple, and delights in nothing so much as in plainnesse; and beleeve
mee, whatsoever in Nature is more noble, by so much also the more easy,
and plain it is, because all truth is plain, and simple: God the most
High Creator of all things put nothing that is hard, or difficult in
Nature. If thou wilt therefore imitate Nature, let mee perswade thee
to abide in the simple way of Nature; and thou shalt find all good
things. But if neither my writings, nor advise pleaseth thee, then go
to other authors. Wherefore I write not great Volumes that thou maist
not lay out too much money, or time upon them, but maist read them over
quickly, and bee at the more leisure to have recourse to other authors:
and cease not to seek, for to him that knocks, it shall bee opened.
Now those times are coming, in which many secrets of Nature shall bee
revealed. Now that fourth Monarchy of the North is about to begin:
Now the times are at hand; the Mother of Sciences will come: greater
things shall bee discovered then hath been done in these three last
past Monarchies. Because this Monarchy (as the Ancients have foretold)
God will plant by one of his Princes, being enriched with all manner
of vertues, whom haply times have already brought forth. For wee have
in this Northerne part a most wise Prince, and most warlike, whom none
of the Monarchs doth goe beyond in victories, or excell in humanity,
and piety. In this Northerne Monarchy God the maker of all things, will
without doubt bring to light greater secrets in Nature, then in those
times, when Pagan, and Tyrant Princes reigned. But the Philosophers
reckon these Monarchies, not according to the powerfulnesse of them,
but according to the corners of the world: the first was Easterne, the
next Southerne; this which they now possesse is Westerne: the last
which they expect in this Northerne part is Northerne: but of these
further in my booke of Harmony. In this Northern Monarchy, where the
attractive pole is (as the _Psalmist_ speaks) Mercy and Truth are met
together; Peace, and Justice shall kisse each other; Truth shall rise
out of the earth, and Justice shall looke from heaven. One sheepfold,
and one Shepheard. Many Arts without envy: All which I doe earnestly
expect. Doe thou also, Courteous Reader, call upon, love, feare God,
read over my Writings diligently, and then thou maist foretell to thy
selfe good things. And if thou shalt, through the favour of God, and
the help of Nature (whom thou must imitate) arrive to the desired haven
of this Monarchie; then thou shalt see, and say that all things that I
have said to thee, are good, and true.
_Farewell._
[Illustration: *decorative divider*]
OF
SVLPHVR:
_The second Principle._
Sulphur is not the last amongst the Principles, because it is a part
of the Metall; yea and the principall part of the Philosophers Stone:
and many wise men have left in writing divers, and very true things
of Sulphur. Yea _Geber_ himself in his first book of the highest
perfection, _cha._ 28. saith: Through the most High God it illuminates
every body: because it is light from light, and Tincture. But before
wee treate of it, it seems good to us to first describe the originall
of the Principles; especially since of old, Sulphur hath been accounted
the chiefest of the Principles. Now very few have hitherto shewed
whence the Principles arise, and it is a hard thing to judge of any of
the Principles, or anything else, whose originall, and generation is
unknowne: what can a blind man judg of a colour? What our predecessors
have omitted, that have wee purposed in this Treatise to supply.
Now the Principles of things, especially of Metalls, according to the
ancient Philosophers are two, Sulphur; and Mercury: but according
to the latter Philosophers, three, Sal, Sulphur, and Mercury. Now
the originall of these Principles are the foure Elements; with the
originall of which also wee will first begin. Therefore let them that
are Students in this sacred science know, that there are four Elements,
and that every one of these foure hath in its Center another Element,
by which it is elementated: and these are the four statues of the
world, separated from the Chaos in the creation of the world by divine
wisdome; and these uphold the fabrick of the world by their contrary
acting, in equality, and proportion, and also by the inclination of
celestiall vertues, bring forth all things, that are within, and upon
the earth: but of these in their places: here we will returne to our
purpose; and first of the Element that is neerest, _viz._ the Earth.
[Illustration: *decorative divider*]
OF
The ELEMENT of the
EARTH.
The Earth is of great worth in its quality, and dignity: in this
Element, the other three, especially the fire, rest. It is the most
excellent Element to conceale, and discover those things which are
intrusted to it: it is grosse, and porous, heavy in respect of its
smallnesse, but light in respect of its Nature; it is also the Center
of the world, as also of the other Elements; through its Center passeth
the axell tree of the world, and of both poles. It is porous, as wee
said, as a spunge, and brings forth nothing of it selfe, but all things
whatsoever the other three distil, and project into it, it receives,
keeps all things that are to be kept, brings to light all things that
are to be brought to light. It brings forth (as wee said before)
nothing of it selfe, but it is the receptacle of other things, and it
is that, in which every thing that is brought forth, doth abide, and
by heat of motion is putrefied in it, and is multiplied by the same,
the pure being separated from the impure: That which is heavy in it is
hid, and the heat drives that which is light unto its superficies. It
is the nurse, and matrix of all seed, and commixtion. It can indeed
doe nothing else, then preserve the seed, and what is made of it, till
it be ripe. It is cold, dry, tempered with water; visible without,
and fixed; but within invisible, and volatile. It is a virgin, and
the _Caput Mortuum_ left after the creation of the world, which shall
hereafter at divine pleasure bee calcined, after extraction of its
moisture, that of it a new Crystalline Earth may be created. Also this
Element is divided into a pure part, and an impure. The water makes
use of the pure to bring forth things, but the impure remains in its
globe. This Element is the hiding place, and mansion of all treasure.
In its Center is the fire of hell, preserving this fabrick of the world
in its being; and this by the expression of water into the aire. That
fire is caused, and kindled by the _primum Mobile_, and the influences
of the Stars: the heat of the Sunne tempered with the aire meets with
this heat for the ripening, and drawing up of those things, which are
already conceived in its Center. Moreover the Earth partakes of fire,
which is the intrinsecall part of it, neither is it purified but in
the fire: and so every Element is purified with its intrinsecall part.
Now the Intrinsecall part, or inside of the Earth, or its Center is
the highest purity mixed with fire, where nothing can rest: It is as
it were an empty place, into which all the other Elements doe project
their vertues, as hath been spoken in the book of the Twelve Treatises.
And thus much of the Element of Earth, which wee have called a Spunge,
and the receptacle of other things, which serveth for our purpose.
[Illustration: *decorative divider*]
OF
The ELEMENT of
WATER.
Water is the heaviest Element, full of unctuous flegme, and it is an
Element more worthy in its quality then the Earth, without, volatile,
but within fixed, it is cold, and moist, and tempered with the aire:
it is the sperm of the world, in which the seed of all things is
kept: it is the keeper of the seed of every thing. Yet wee must know,
that the Seed is one thing, and the Sperme another: the Earth is the
receptacle of the Sperme, but Water is the receptacle of the Seed.
Whatsoever the Aire doth distill into the Water, by means of the fire,
the same doth the water convey to the Earth. Sometimes the sperme
lackes sufficiency of seed, for want of heat which should digest it;
for there is alwayes plenty of Sperm, expecting Seed, which by the
imagination of fire through the motion of the Aire it carryes into its
matrix: and sometimes there being lack of Seed, the Sperme enters,
but it goeth forth againe without fruit: but of this more at large
hereafter in the third Treatise of Principles, _viz._ in that of Salt.
It happens sometimes in Nature, that the Sperme enters into the matrix
with a sufficiency of Seed; but the matrix being indisposed, by reason
of being filled with offensive, sulphureous, & flegmatick vapors, doth
not conceive, neither doth that come to passe that should. Also nothing
is properly in this Element, but only as it is wont to bee in the
Sperm. It is delighted chiefly in its own motion, which is made by the
Aire, and it is apt to mixe with things by reason of its superficiall,
volatile body. It is, as wee said before, the receptacle of all manner
of Seed: in it the Earth is easily purified, and resolved; and the
Aire is congealed in it, and is joined with it radically. It is the
menstruum of the world, which penetrating the Aire, by means of heat,
drawes along with it selfe a warm vapour, which causeth a naturall
generation of those things, which the Earth, as a matrix is impregnated
withall, and when the matrix receives a due proportion of Seed, of what
kind soever, it proceeds, and Nature workes without intermission to
the end; but the remaining moisture, or Sperme falls to the side, and
by vertue of the heat in the Earth is putrefied (that which is cast to
the side) and of that afterwards are generated other things, as small
vermine, and wormes. The Artificer of a quicke wit may indeed see in
this Element, as it were out of Sperme, divers wonders of Nature; but
it will be needfull to take that Sperm, in which the Astrall Seed in a
certaine proportion is already imagined, or conceived; because Nature
makes, and produceth pure things by the first putrefaction, but by the
second farre more pure, worthy, and noble; as thou hast an example in
wood, which is vegetable, where in the first composition Nature maketh
wood, but when that is after maturity corrupted, it is putrefied, and
of it worms are bred, and such kind of vermine as they are, which have
both life, and sight: for it is manifest, that a sensible thing is
alwaies more worthy then a vegetable: for to the organs of sensible
things much more subtile, and purer matter is required: But to return
to our purpose.
This Element is the Menstruum of the world, and is divided into three
sorts, _viz._ pure, purer, and most pure. Of the most pure substance
of it the Heavens are created, the purer is resolved into Aire, but
the pure, plaine, and grosse remains in its sphere, and by divine
appointment, and operation of Nature doth preserve and keep every thing
that is subtile. It makes one globe together with the Earth: it hath
also its Center in the heart of the Sea: it hath one axell tree and
pole with the earth, by which all courses, and fountaines of water
issue forth, which afterward increase, and grow up into great rivers.
By these issuing forth of waters the Earth is preserved from burnings,
and with this moistning the universall Seed is carryed forth through
the pores of the whole Earth, which thing is caused through heat, and
motion. Now it is manifest that all courses of Waters return into the
heart of the Sea; but whither afterward they run is not known to every
body. There be some that think that all rivers, water, and springs
which have their course into the sea, do proceed from the stars, who,
when they know no other reason why the sea should not increase, and bee
fuller, by reason of them, say that these Waters are consumed in the
heart of the sea. But this Nature will not admit of, as wee have shewed
when we spake of the Rain. The stars indeed cause, but doe not generate
Water; seeing nothing is generated but in its owne like of the same
species: Now the Stars consist of Fire, and Aire; how then should they
generate Waters? And if it were so, that some Starre should generate
Waters, then necessarily also must others generate Earth, and also
others other Elements: because this fabrick of the world is so upheld
by the four Elements, that one may not exceed another in the least
particle, but they strive one with the other in an equall ballance;
for otherwise if one should exceed the other, destruction would ensue.
Yet let every one persevere in what opinion hee please, it is thus
shewed to us by the light of Nature, that this fabrick of the world is
preserved by these four Elements, their equality being proportioned
by the great God, and one doth not exceed the other in its operation.
But the Waters upon the basis of the Earth are contained as it were in
some vessell from the motion of the Aire, and towards the Articke pole
are by it constringed, because there is no _vacuum_, or vacuity in the
world: for this cause is there in the Center of the Earth the fire of
hell, which the Archeus of Nature doth govern.