HOW TO MAKE GOLD.
_L' Alchimista non travaglia a voto;
Ei cerca l' oro, ei cerca l' oro, io dico
Ch' ei cerca l' oro; e s' ei giungesse in porto
Fora ben per se stesso e per altrui.
L' oro e somma posanza infra mortali;
Chiedine a Cavalier, chiedine a Dame,
Chiedine a tutto il Mondo._
CHIABRERA.
William had heard so much about experiments that it is not surprising
he should have been for making some himself. It was well indeed for
his family that the speculative mind, which lay covered rather than
concealed under the elder Daniel's ruminating manners, and quiet
contented course of life, was not quickened by his acquaintance with
the schoolmaster into an experimental and dangerous activity, instead
of being satisfied with theoretical dreams. For Guy had found a book
in that little collection which might have produced more serious
consequences to the father than the imitation of Gargantua had done to
the son.
This book was the Exposition of Eirenæus Philalethes upon Sir George
Ripley's Hermetico-Poetical works. Daniel had formerly set as little
value upon it as upon Rabelais. He knew indeed what its purport was,
thus much he had gathered from it: but although it professed to
contain “the plainest and most excellent discoveries of the most
hidden secrets of the Ancient Philosophers that were ever yet
published,” it was to him as unintelligible as the mysteries of
Pantagruelism. He could make nothing of the work that was to ascend in
_Bus_ and _Nubi_ from the Moon up to the Sun, though the Expositor had
expounded that this was in _Nubibus_; nor of the Lake which was to be
boiled with the ashes of Hermes's Tree, night and day without ceasing,
till the Heavenly Nature should ascend and the Earthly descend: nor of
the Crow's bill, the White Dove, the Sparkling Cherubim, and the Soul
of the Green Lion. But he took those cautions simply and honestly as
cautions, which were in fact the lures whereby so many infatuated
persons had been drawn on to their own undoing. The author had said
that his work was not written for the information of the illiterate,
and illiterate Daniel knew himself to be. “Our writings,” says the
dark Expositor, “shall prove as a curious edged knife; to some they
shall carve out dainties, and to others it shall serve only to cut
their fingers. Yet we are not to be blamed; for we do seriously
profess to any that shall attempt the work, that he attempts the
highest piece of Philosophy that is in Nature; and though we write in
English, yet our matter will be as hard as Greek to some, who will
think they understand us well, when they misconstrue our meaning most
perversely; for is it imaginable that they who are fools in Nature
should be wise in our Books, which are testimonies unto Nature?” And
again, “make sure of thy true matter, which is no small thing to know;
and though we have named it yet we have done it so cunningly, that
thou mayest sooner stumble at our Books than at any thou ever didst
read in thy life.—Be not deceived either with receipt or discourse;
for we verily do not intend to deceive you; but if you will be
deceived, be deceived!—Our way which is an easy way, and in which no
man may err,—our broad way, our _linear_ way, we have vowed never to
reveal it but in metaphor. I, being moved with pity, will hint it to
you. Take that which is not yet perfect, nor yet wholly imperfect, but
in a way to perfection, and out of it make what is most noble and most
perfect. This you may conceive to be an easier receipt than to take
that which is already perfect and extract out of it what is imperfect
and make it perfect, and after out of that perfection to draw a
_plusquam_ perfection; and yet this is true, and we have wrought it.
But this last discovery which I hinted in few words is it which no man
ever did so plainly lay open; nor may any make it more plain upon pain
of an anathema.”
All this was heathen Greek to Daniel, except the admonition which it
contained. But Guy had meddled with this perilous pseudo-science, and
used to talk with him concerning its theory, which Daniel soon
comprehended, and which like many other theories wanted nothing but a
foundation to rest upon. That every thing had its own seed as well as
its own form seemed a reasonable position; and that the fermental
virtue, “which is the wonder of the world, and by which water becomes
herbs, trees and plants, fruits, flesh, blood, stones, minerals and
every thing, works only in kind. Was it not then absurd to allow that
the fermentive and multiplicative power existed in almost all other
things, and yet deny it to Gold, the most perfect of all sublunary
things?”—The secret lay in extracting from Gold its hidden seed.
Ben Jonson has with his wonted ability presented the theory of this
delusive art. His knavish Alchemist asks of an unbeliever
Why, what have you observed Sir, in our art
Seems so impossible?
_Surly_. But your whole work, no more!
That you should hatch gold in a furnace, Sir,
As they do eggs in Egypt.
_Subtle_. Sir, do you
Believe that eggs are hatch'd so?
_Surly_. If I should?
_Subtle_. Why I think that the greater miracle.
No egg but differs from a chicken more
Than metals in themselves.
_Surly_. That cannot be.
The egg's ordained by nature to that end,
And is a chicken _in potentiâ_.
_Subtle_. The same we say of lead and other metals,
Which would be gold if they had time.
_Mammon_. And that
Our art doth further.
_Subtle_. Aye, for 'twere absurd
To think that nature in the earth bred gold
Perfect in the instant: something went before.
There must be remote matter.
_Surly_. Ay, what is that?
_Subtle_. Marry we say—
_Mammon_. Ay, now it heats; stand father;
Pound him to dust.
_Subtle_. It is, of the one part,
A humid exhalation, which we call
_Materia liquida_, or the unctuous water;
On the other part a certain crass and viscous
Portion of earth; both which concorporate
Do make the elementary matter of gold;
Which is not yet _propria materia_,
But common to all metals and all stones;
For where it is forsaken of that moisture,
And hath more dryness, it becomes a stone;
Where it retains more of the humid fatness,
It turns to sulphur, or to quicksilver,
Who are the parents of all other metals.
Nor can this remote matter suddenly
Progress so from extreme unto extreme,
As to grow gold, and leap o'er all the means.
Nature doth first beget the imperfect, then
Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy
And oily water, mercury is engendered;
Sulphur of the fat and earthy part; the one,
Which is the last, supplying the place of male,
The other of the female in all metals.
Some so believe hermaphrodeity,
That both do act and suffer. But these too
Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive.
And even in gold they are; for we do find
Seeds of them, by our fire, and gold in them;
And can produce the species of each metal
More perfect thence than nature doth in earth.
I have no cause to say here with Sheik Mohammed Ali Hazin that “taste
for poetical and elegant composition has turned the reins of my
ink-dropping pen away from the road which lay before it:” For this
passage of learned Ben lay directly in the way; and no where, Reader,
couldst thou find the theory of the Alchemists more ably epitomized.
“Father,” said the boy Daniel one day, after listening to a
conversation upon this subject, “I should like to learn to make gold.”
“And what wouldst thou do, Daniel, if thou couldst make it?” was the
reply.
“Why I would build a great house, and fill it with books; and have as
much money as the King, and be as great a man as the Squire.”
“Mayhap, Daniel, in that case thou wouldst care for books as little as
the Squire, and have as little time for them as the King. Learning is
better than house or land. As for money, enough is enough; no man can
enjoy more; and the less he can be contented with the wiser and better
he is likely to be. What, Daniel, does our good poet tell us in the
great verse-book?
Nature's with little pleased; enough's a feast:
A sober life but a small charge requires:
But man, the author of his own unrest,
The more he hath, the more he still desires.
No, boy, thou canst never be as rich as the King, nor as great as the
Squire; but thou mayest be a Philosopher, and that is being as happy
as either.”
“A great deal happier,” said Guy. “The Squire is as far from being the
happiest man in the neighbourhood, as he is from being the wisest or
the best. And the King, God bless him! has care enough upon his head
to bring on early grey hairs.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
“But what does a Philosopher do?” rejoined the boy. “The Squire hunts
and shoots and smokes, and drinks punch and goes to Justice-Meetings.
And the King goes to fight for us against the French, and governs the
Parliament, and makes laws. But I cannot tell what a Philosopher's
business is. Do they do any thing else besides making Almanacks and
gold?”
“Yes,” said William, “they read the stars.”
“And what do they read there?”
“What neither thou nor I can understand, Daniel,” replied the father,
“however nearly it may concern us!”