PART I.--HISTORY OF ALCHYMY FROM THE EARLIEST PERIODS TO THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

PRETENDED ANTIQUITY OF THE ART.--GEBER.--ALFARABI.--AVICENNA.--ALBERTUS

MAGNUS.--THOMAS AQUINAS.--ARTEPHIUS.--ALAIN DE LISLE.--ARNOLD DE

VILLENEUVE.--PIETRO D'APONE.--RAYMOND LULLI.--ROGER BACON.--POPE

JOHN XXII.--JEAN DE MEUNG.--NICHOLAS FLAMEL.--GEORGE RIPLEY.--BASIL

VALENTINE.--BERNARD OF TREVES.--TRITHEMIUS.--THE MARECHAL DE

RAYS.--JACQUES COEUR.--INFERIOR ADEPTS.

For more than a thousand years the art of alchymy captivated many noble

spirits, and was believed in by millions. Its origin is involved in

obscurity. Some of its devotees have claimed for it an antiquity coeval

with the creation of man himself; others, again, would trace it no

further back than the time of Noah. Vincent de Beauvais argues, indeed,

that all the antediluvians must have possessed a knowledge of alchymy;

and particularly cites Noah as having been acquainted with the elixir

vitae, or he could not have lived to so prodigious an age, and have

begotten children when upwards of five hundred. Lenglet du Fresnoy, in

his "History of the Hermetic Philosophy," says, "Most of them pretended

that Shem, or Chem, the son of Noah, was an adept in the art, and

thought it highly probable that the words chemistry and alchymy were

both derived from his name." Others say, the art was derived from the

Egyptians, amongst whom it was first founded by Hermes Trismegistus.

Moses, who is looked upon as a first-rate alchymist, gained his

knowledge in Egypt; but he kept it all to himself, and would not

instruct the children of Israel in its mysteries. All the writers upon

alchymy triumphantly cite the story of the golden calf, in the 32nd

chapter of Exodus, to prove that this great lawgiver was an adept, and

could make or unmake gold at his pleasure. It is recorded, that Moses

was so wroth with the Israelites for their idolatry, "that he took the

calf which they had made, and burned it in the fire, and ground it to

powder, and strewed it upon the water, and made the children of Israel

drink of it." This, say the alchymists, he never could have done, had

he not been in possession of the philosopher's stone; by no other means

could he have made the powder of gold float upon the water. But we must

leave this knotty point for the consideration of the adepts in the art,

if any such there be, and come to more modern periods of its history.

The Jesuit, Father Martini, in his "Historia Sinica," says, it was

practised by the Chinese two thousand five hundred years before the

birth of Christ; but his assertion, being unsupported, is worth nothing.

It would appear, however, that pretenders to the art of making gold and

silver existed in Rome in the first centuries after the Christian era,

and that, when discovered, they were liable to punishment as knaves and

impostors. At Constantinople, in the fourth century, the transmutation

of metals was very generally believed in, and many of the Greek

ecclesiastics wrote treatises upon the subject. Their names are

preserved, and some notice of their works given, in the third volume of

Lenglet du Fresnoy's "History of the Hermetic Philosophy." Their notion

appears to have been, that all metals were composed of two substances;

the one, metallic earth; and the other, a red inflammable matter, which

they called sulphur. The pure union of these substances formed gold;

but other metals were mixed with and contaminated by various foreign

ingredients. The object of the philosopher's stone was to dissolve or

neutralize all these ingredients, by which iron, lead, copper, and all

metals would be transmuted into the original gold. Many learned and

clever men wasted their time, their health, and their energies, in this

vain pursuit; but for several centuries it took no great hold upon the

imagination of the people. The history of the delusion appears, in a

manner, lost from this time till the eighth century, when it appeared

amongst the Arabians. From this period it becomes easier to trace its

progress. A master then appeared, who was long looked upon as the father

of the science, and whose name is indissolubly connected with it.

GEBER.

Of this philosopher, who devoted his life to the study of alchymy, but

few particulars are known. He is thought to have lived in the year 730.

His true name was Abou Moussah Djafar, to which was added Al Soft, or

"The Wise," and he was born at Hauran, in Mesopotamia. ["Biographie

Universelle."] Some have thought he was a Greek, others a Spaniard, and

others, a prince of Hindostan: but, of all the mistakes which have been

made respecting him, the most ludicrous was that made by the French

translator of Sprenger's "History of Medicine," who thought, from

the sound of his name, that he was a German, and rendered it as the

"Donnateur," or Giver. No details of his life are known; but it

is asserted, that he wrote more than five hundred works upon the

philosopher's stone and the water of life. He was a great enthusiast in

his art, and compared the incredulous to little children shut up in a

narrow room, without windows or aperture, who, because they saw nothing

beyond, denied the existence of the great globe itself. He thought that

a preparation of gold would cure all maladies, not only in man, but in

the inferior animals and plants. He also imagined that all the metals

laboured under disease, with the exception of gold, which was the only

one in perfect health. He affirmed, that the secret of the philosopher's

stone had been more than once discovered; but that the ancient and wise

men who had hit upon it, would never, by word or writing, communicate

it to men, because of their unworthiness and incredulity. [His "sum of

perfection," or instructions to students to aid them in the laborious

search for the stone and elixir, has been translated into most of the

languages of Europe. An English translation, by a great enthusiast

in alchymy, one Richard Russell, was published in London in 1686.

The preface is dated eight years previously, from the house of the

alchymist, "at the Star, in Newmarket, in Wapping, near the Dock." His

design in undertaking the translation was, as he informs us, to expose

the false pretences of the many ignorant pretenders to the science who

abounded in his day.] But the life of Geber, though spent in the pursuit

of this vain chimera, was not altogether useless. He stumbled upon

discoveries which he did not seek, and science is indebted to him for

the first mention of corrosive sublimate, the red oxide of mercury,

nitric acid, and the nitrate of silver. [Article, Geber, "Biographie

Universelle."]

For more than two hundred years after the death of Geber, the Arabian

philosophers devoted themselves to the study of alchymy, joining with it

that of astrology. Of these the most celebrated was

ALFARABI.

Alfarabi flourished at the commencement of the tenth century, and

enjoyed the reputation of being one of the most learned men of his age.

He spent his life in travelling from country to country, that he might

gather the opinions of philosophers upon the great secrets of nature. No

danger dismayed him; no toil wearied him of the pursuit. Many sovereigns

endeavoured to retain him at their courts; but he refused to rest until

he had discovered the great object of his life--the art of preserving it

for centuries, and of making gold as much as he needed. This wandering

mode of life at last proved fatal to him. He had been on a visit to

Mecca, not so much for religious as for philosophical purposes,

when, returning through Syria, he stopped at the court of the Sultan

Seifeddoulet, who was renowned as the patron of learning. He presented

himself in his travelling attire, in the presence of that monarch and

his courtiers; and, without invitation, coolly sat himself down upon the

sofa, beside the Prince. The courtiers and wise men were indignant;

and the Sultan, who did not know the intruder, was at first inclined to

follow their example. He turned to one of his officers, and ordered him

to eject the presumptuous stranger from the room; but Alfarabi, without

moving, dared them to lay hands upon him; and, turning himself calmly

to the prince, remarked, that he did not know who was his guest, or he

would treat him with honour, not with violence. The Sultan, instead

of being still further incensed, as many potentates would have been,

admired his coolness; and, requesting him to sit still closer to him

on the sofa, entered into a long conversation with him upon science

and divine philosophy. All the court were charmed with the stranger.

Questions for discussion were propounded, on all of which he showed

superior knowledge. He convinced every one that ventured to dispute with

him; and spoke so eloquently upon the science of alchymy, that he was

at once recognised as only second to the great Geber himself. One of

the doctors present inquired whether a man who knew so many sciences was

acquainted with music? Alfarabi made no reply, but merely requested that

a lute should be brought him. The lute was brought; and he played such

ravishing and tender melodies, that all the court were melted into

tears. He then changed his theme, and played airs so sprightly, that

he set the grave philosophers, Sultan and all, dancing as fast as their

legs could carry them. He then sobered them again by a mournful strain,

and made them sob and sigh as if broken-hearted. The Sultan, highly

delighted with his powers, entreated him to stay, offering him every

inducement that wealth, power, and dignity could supply; but the

alchymist resolutely refused, it being decreed, he said, that he should

never repose till he had discovered the philosopher's stone. He set out

accordingly the same evening, and was murdered by some thieves in the

deserts of Syria. His biographers give no further particulars of his

life beyond mentioning, that he wrote several valuable treatises on his

art, all of which, however, have been lost. His death happened in the

year 954.

AVICENNA.

Avicenna, whose real name was Ebn Cinna, another great alchymist, was

born at Bokhara, in 980. His reputation as a physician and a man skilled

in all sciences was so great, that the Sultan Magdal Douleth resolved

to try his powers in the great science of government. He was accordingly

made Grand Vizier of that Prince, and ruled the state with some

advantage: but, in a science still more difficult, he failed completely.

He could not rule his own passions, but gave himself up to wine and

women, and led a life of shameless debauchery. Amid the multifarious

pursuits of business and pleasure, he nevertheless found time to write

seven treatises upon the philosopher's stone, which were for many ages

looked upon as of great value by pretenders to the art. It is rare that

an eminent physician, as Avicenna appears to have been, abandons himself

to sensual gratification; but so completely did he become enthralled in

the course of a few years, that he was dismissed from his high office,

and died shortly afterwards, of premature old age and a complication

of maladies, brought on by debauchery. His death took place in the year

1036. After his time, few philosophers of any note in Arabia are heard

of as devoting themselves to the study of alchymy; but it began shortly

afterwards to attract greater attention in Europe. Learned men in

France, England, Spain, and Italy expressed their belief in the

science, and many devoted their whole energies to it. In the twelfth and

thirteenth centuries especially, it was extensively pursued, and some

of the brightest names of that age are connected with it. Among the most

eminent of them are

ALBERTUS MAGNUS and THOMAS AQUINA.

The first of these philosophers was born in the year 1193, of a noble

family at Lawingen, in the duchy of Neuburg, on the Danube. For the

first thirty years of his life, he appeared remarkably dull and stupid,

and it was feared by every one that no good could come of him. He

entered a Dominican monastery at an early age; but made so little

progress in his studies, that he was more than once upon the point

of abandoning them in despair; but he was endowed with extraordinary

perseverance. As he advanced to middle age, his mind expanded, and

he learned whatever he applied himself to with extreme facility. So

remarkable a change was not, in that age, to be accounted for but by a

miracle. It was asserted and believed that the Holy Virgin, touched

with his great desire to become learned and famous, took pity upon his

incapacity, and appeared to him in the cloister where he sat, almost

despairing, and asked him whether he wished to excel in philosophy

or divinity. He chose philosophy, to the chagrin of the Virgin, who

reproached him in mild and sorrowful accents that he had not made a

better choice. She, however, granted his request that he should become

the most excellent philosopher of the age; but set this drawback to his

pleasure, that he should relapse, when at the height of his fame, into

his former incapacity and stupidity. Albertus never took the trouble to

contradict the story, but prosecuted his studies with such unremitting

zeal that his reputation speedily spread over all Europe. In the year

1244, the celebrated Thomas Aquinas placed himself under his tuition.

Many extraordinary stories are told of the master and his pupil. While

they paid all due attention to other branches of science, they never

neglected the pursuit of the philosopher's stone and the elixir vitae.

Although they discovered neither, it was believed that Albert had seized

some portion of the secret of life, and found means to animate a brazen

statue, upon the formation of which, under proper conjunctions of the

planets, he had been occupied many years of his life. He and Thomas

Aquinas completed it together, endowed it with the faculty of speech,

and made it perform the functions of a domestic servant. In this

capacity it was exceedingly useful; but, through some defect in

the machinery, it chattered much more than was agreeable to either

philosopher. Various remedies were tried to cure it of its garrulity,

but in vain; and one day Thomas Aquinas was so enraged at the noise it

made, when he was in the midst of a mathematical problem, that he seized

a ponderous hammer and smashed it to pieces. [Naude, "Apologie des

Grands Hommes accuses de Magie;" chap. xviii.] He was sorry afterwards

for what he had done, and was reproved by his master for giving way

to his anger, so unbecoming in a philosopher. They made no attempt to

re-animate the statue.

Such stories as these show the spirit of the age. Every great man who

attempted to study the secrets of nature was thought a magician; and it

is not to be wondered at that, when philosophers themselves pretended to

discover an elixir for conferring immortality, or a red stone which was

to create boundless wealth, that popular opinion should have enhanced

upon their pretensions, and have endowed them with powers still more

miraculous. It was believed of Albertus Magnus that he could even change

the course of the seasons; a feat which the many thought less difficult

than the discovery of the grand elixir. Albertus was desirous of

obtaining a piece of ground on which to build a monastery, in the

neighbourhood of Cologne. The ground belonged to William, Count of

Holland and King of the Romans, who, for some reason or other, did not

wish to part with it. Albertus is reported to have gained it by the

following extraordinary method:--He invited the Prince, as he was

passing through Cologne, to a magnificent entertainment prepared for him

and all his court. The Prince accepted it, and repaired with a lordly

retinue to the residence of the sage. It was in the midst of winter; the

Rhine was frozen over, and the cold was so bitter that the knights could

not sit on horseback without running the risk of losing their toes by

the frost. Great, therefore, was their surprise, on arriving at Albert's

house, to find that the repast was spread in his garden, in which

the snow had drifted to the depth of several feet. The Earl, in high

dudgeon, remounted his steed; but Albert at last prevailed upon him

to take his seat at the table. He had no sooner done so, than the dark

clouds rolled away from the sky--a warm sun shone forth--the cold north

wind veered suddenly round, and blew a mild breeze from the south--the

snows melted away--the ice was unbound upon the streams, and the trees

put forth their green leaves and their fruit--flowers sprang up beneath

their feet, while larks, nightingales, blackbirds, cuckoos, thrushes,

and every sweet song-bird, sang hymns from every tree. The Earl and

his attendants wondered greatly; but they ate their dinner, and in

recompence for it, Albert got his piece of ground to build a convent

on. He had not, however, shown them all his power. Immediately that the

repast was over, he gave the word, and dark clouds obscured the sun--the

snow fell in large flakes--the singing-birds fell dead--the leaves

dropped from the trees, and the winds blew so cold, and howled so

mournfully, that the guests wrapped themselves up in their thick cloaks,

and retreated into the house to warm themselves at the blazing fire in

Albert's kitchen. [Lenglet, "Histoire de la Philosophie Hermetique." See

also, Godwin's "Lives of the Necromancers."]

Thomas Aquinas also could work wonders as well as his master. It is

related of him, that he lodged in a street at Cologne, where he was much

annoyed by the incessant clatter made by the horses' hoofs, as they were

led through it daily to exercise by their grooms. He had entreated

the latter to select some other spot where they might not disturb a

philosopher, but the grooms turned a deaf ear to all his solicitations.

In this emergency he had recourse to the aid of magic. He constructed

a small horse of bronze, upon which he inscribed certain cabalistic

characters, and buried it at midnight in the midst of the highway. The

next morning, a troop of grooms came riding along as usual; but the

horses, as they arrived at the spot where the magic horse was

buried, reared and plunged violently--their nostrils distended with

terror--their manes grew erect, and the perspiration ran down their

sides in streams. In vain the riders applied the spur--in vain they

coaxed or threatened, the animals would not pass the spot. On the

following day, their success was no better. They were at length

compelled to seek another spot for their exercise, and Thomas Aquinas

was left in peace. [Naude, "Apologie des Grands Hommes accuses de

Magie;" chap. xvii.]

Albertus Magnus was made Bishop of Ratisbon in 1259; but he occupied

the See only four years, when he resigned, on the ground that its

duties occupied too much of the time which he was anxious to devote

to philosophy. He died in Cologne in 1280, at the advanced age of

eighty-seven. The Dominican writers deny that he ever sought the

philosopher's stone, but his treatise upon minerals sufficiently proves

that he did.

ARTEPHIUS.

Artephius, a name noted in the annals of alchymy, was born in the early

part of the twelfth century. He wrote two famous treatises; the one upon

the philosopher's stone, and the other on the art of prolonging human

life. In the latter he vaunts his great qualifications for instructing

mankind on such a matter, as he was at that time in the thousand and

twenty-fifth year of his age! He had many disciples who believed in his

extreme age, and who attempted to prove that he was Apollonius of Tyana,

who lived soon after the advent of Jesus Christ, and the particulars

of whose life and pretended miracles have been so fully described by

Philostratus. He took good care never to contradict a story, which

so much increased the power he was desirous of wielding over his

fellow-mortals. On all convenient occasions, he boasted of it; and

having an excellent memory, a fertile imagination, and a thorough

knowledge of all existing history, he was never at a loss for an answer

when questioned as to the personal appearance, the manners, or the

character of the great men of antiquity. He also pretended to have

found the philosopher's stone; and said that, in search of it, he had

descended to hell, and seen the devil sitting on a throne of gold, with

a legion of imps and fiends around him. His works on alchymy have been

translated into French, and were published in Paris in 1609 or 1610.

ALAIN DE LISLE.

Contemporary with Albertus Magnus was Alain de Lisle, of Flanders,

who was named, from his great learning, the "universal doctor." He was

thought to possess a knowledge of all the sciences, and, like Artephius,

to have discovered the elixir vitae. He became one of the friars of

the abbey of Citeaux, and died in 1298, aged about one hundred and ten

years. It was said of him, that he was at the point of death when in his

fiftieth year; but that the fortunate discovery of the elixir enabled

him to add sixty years to his existence. He wrote a commentary on the

prophecies of Merlin.

ARNOLD DE VILLENEUVE.

This philosopher has left a much greater reputation. He was born in the

year 1245, and studied medicine with great success in the University of

Paris. He afterwards travelled for twenty years in Italy and Germany,

where he made acquaintance with Pietro d'Apone; a man of a character

akin to his own, and addicted to the same pursuits. As a physician, he

was thought, in his own lifetime, to be the most able the world had ever

seen. Like all the learned men of that day, he dabbled in astrology and

alchymy, and was thought to have made immense quantities of gold from

lead and copper. When Pietro d'Apone was arrested in Italy, and brought

to trial as a sorcerer, a similar accusation was made against Arnold;

but he managed to leave the country in time and escape the fate of his

unfortunate friend. He lost some credit by predicting the end of the

world, but afterwards regained it. The time of his death is not exactly

known; but it must have been prior to the year 1311, when Pope Clement

V. wrote a circular letter to all the clergy of Europe who lived under

his obedience, praying them to use their utmost efforts to discover the

famous treatise of Arnold on "The Practice of Medicine." The author had

promised, during his lifetime, to make a present of the work to the Holy

See, but died without fulfilling it.

In a very curious work by Monsieur Longeville Harcouet, entitled "The

History of the Persons who have lived several centuries, and then grown

young again," there is a receipt, said to have been given by Arnold de

Villeneuve, by means of which any one might prolong his life for a

few hundred years or so. In the first place, say Arnold and Monsieur

Harcouet, "the person intending so to prolong his life must rub himself

well, two or three times a week, with the juice or marrow of cassia

(moelle de la casse). Every night, upon going to bed, he must put upon

his heart a plaster, composed of a certain quantity of Oriental saffron,

red rose-leaves, sandal-wood, aloes, and amber, liquified in oil of

roses and the best white wax. In the morning, he must take it off, and

enclose it carefully in a leaden box till the next night, when it must

be again applied. If he be of a sanguine temperament, he shall take

sixteen chickens--if phlegmatic, twenty-five--and if melancholy, thirty,

which he shall put into a yard where the air and the water are pure.

Upon these he is to feed, eating one a day; but previously the chickens

are to be fattened by a peculiar method, which will impregnate their

flesh with the qualities that are to produce longevity in the eater.

Being deprived of all other nourishment till they are almost dying of

hunger, they are to be fed upon broth made of serpents and vinegar,

which broth is to be thickened with wheat and bran." Various ceremonies

are to be performed in the cooking of this mess, which those may see in

the book of M. Harcouet, who are at all interested in the matter; and

the chickens are to be fed upon it for two months. They are then fit for

table, and are to be washed down with moderate quantities of good white

wine or claret. This regimen is to be followed regularly every seven

years, and any one may live to be as old as Methuselah! It is right to

state, that M. Harcouet has but little authority for attributing this

precious composition to Arnold of Villeneuve. It is not to be found in

the collected works of that philosopher; but was first brought to light

by a M. Poirier, at the commencement of the sixteenth century, who

asserted that he had discovered it in MS. in the undoubted writing of

Arnold.

PIETRO D'APONE.

This unlucky sage was born at Apone, near Padua, in the year 1250. Like

his friend Arnold de Villeneuve, he was an eminent physician, and a

pretender to the arts of astrology and alchymy. He practised for many

years in Paris, and made great wealth by killing and curing, and telling

fortunes. In an evil day for him, he returned to his own country,

with the reputation of being a magician of the first order. It was

universally believed that he had drawn seven evil spirits from the

infernal regions, whom he kept enclosed in seven crystal vases, until

he required their services, when he sent them forth to the ends of the

earth to execute his pleasure. One spirit excelled in philosophy; a

second, in alchymy; a third, in astrology; a fourth, in physic; a fifth,

in poetry; a sixth, in music; and the seventh, in painting: and whenever

Pietro wished for information or instruction in any of these arts, he

had only to go to his crystal vase, and liberate the presiding spirit.

Immediately, all the secrets of the art were revealed to him; and he

might, if it pleased him, excel Homer in poetry, Apelles in painting,

or Pythagoras himself in philosophy. Although he could make gold out

of brass, it was said of him, that he was very sparing of his powers in

that respect, and kept himself constantly supplied with money by other

and less creditable means. Whenever he disbursed gold, he muttered a

certain charm, known only to himself; and next morning the gold was safe

again in his own possession. The trader to whom he gave it, might lock

it in his strong box, and have it guarded by a troop of soldiers; but

the charmed metal flew back to its old master. Even if it were buried

in the earth, or thrown into the sea, the dawn of the next morning would

behold it in the pockets of Pietro. Few people, in consequence, liked to

have dealings with such a personage, especially for gold. Some, bolder

than the rest, thought that his power did not extend over silver; but,

when they made the experiment, they found themselves mistaken. Bolts and

bars could not restrain it, and it sometimes became invisible in

their very hands, and was whisked through the air to the purse of the

magician. He necessarily acquired a very bad character; and, having

given utterance to some sentiments regarding religion which were the

very reverse of orthodox, he was summoned before the tribunals of the

Inquisition to answer for his crimes as a heretic and a sorcerer. He

loudly protested his innocence, even upon the rack, where he suffered

more torture than nature could support. He died in prison ere his trial

was concluded, but was afterwards found guilty. His bones were ordered

to be dug up, and publicly burned. He was also burned in effigy in the

streets of Padua.

RAYMOND LULLI.

While Arnold de Villeneuve and Pietro d'Apone flourished in France and

Italy, a more celebrated adept than either appeared in Spain. This

was Raymond Lulli, a name which stands in the first rank among the

alchymists. Unlike many of his predecessors, he made no pretensions

to astrology or necromancy; but, taking Geber for his model, studied

intently the nature and composition of metals, without reference to

charms, incantations, or any foolish ceremonies. It was not, however,

till late in life that he commenced his study of the art. His early and

middle age were spent in a different manner, and his whole history

is romantic in the extreme. He was born of an illustrious family, in

Majorca, in the year 1235. When that island was taken from the Saracens

by James I, King of Aragon, in 1230, the father of Raymond, who was

originally of Catalonia, settled there, and received a considerable

appointment from the Crown. Raymond married at an early age; and, being

fond of pleasure, he left the solitudes of his native isle, and passed

over with his bride into Spain. He was made Grand Seneschal at the court

of King James, and led a gay life for several years. Faithless to his

wife, he was always in the pursuit of some new beauty, till his heart

was fixed at last by the lovely, but unkind Ambrosia de Castello. This

lady, like her admirer, was married; but, unlike him, was faithful to

her vows, and treated all his solicitations with disdain. Raymond was so

enamoured, that repulse only increased his flame; he lingered all night

under her windows, wrote passionate verses in her praise, neglected his

affairs, and made himself the butt of all the courtiers. One day, while

watching under her lattice, he by chance caught sight of her bosom, as

her neckerchief was blown aside by the wind. The fit of inspiration

came over him, and he sat down and composed some tender stanzas upon the

subject, and sent them to the lady. The fair Ambrosia had never before

condescended to answer his letters; but she replied to this. She told

him, that she could never listen to his suit; that it was unbecoming in

a wise man to fix his thoughts, as he had done, on any other than

his God; and entreated him to devote himself to a religious life, and

conquer the unworthy passion which he had suffered to consume him. She,

however, offered, if he wished it, to show him the fair bosom which had

so captivated him. Raymond was delighted. He thought the latter part of

this epistle but ill corresponded with the former, and that Ambrosia, in

spite of the good advice she gave him, had, at last, relented, and would

make him as happy as he desired. He followed her about from place to

place, entreating her to fulfil her promise: but still Ambrosia was

cold, and implored him with tears to importune her no longer; for that

she never could be his, and never would, if she were free to-morrow.

"What means your letter, then?" said the despairing lover. "I will show

you!" replied Ambrosia, who immediately uncovered her bosom, and exposed

to the eyes of her horror-stricken admirer, a large cancer, which had

extended to both breasts. She saw that he was shocked; and, extending

her hand to him, she prayed him once more to lead a religious life, and

set his heart upon the Creator, and not upon the creature. He went home

an altered man. He threw up, on the morrow, his valuable appointment at

the court, separated from his wife, and took a farewell of his children,

after dividing one-half of his ample fortune among them. The other

half he shared among the poor. He then threw himself at the foot of a

crucifix, and devoted himself to the service of God, vowing, as the most

acceptable atonement for his errors, that he would employ the remainder

of his days in the task of converting the Mussulmans to the Christian

religion. In his dreams he saw Jesus Christ, who said to him, "Raymond!

Raymond! follow me!" The vision was three times repeated, and Raymond

was convinced that it was an intimation direct from Heaven. Having put

his affairs in order, he set out on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St.

James of Compostello, and afterwards lived for ten years in solitude

amid the mountains of Aranda. Here he learned the Arabic, to qualify

himself for his mission of converting the Mahometans. He also studied

various sciences, as taught in the works of the learned men of the

East, and first made acquaintance with the writings of Geber, which were

destined to exercise so much influence over his future life.

At the end of this probation, and when he had entered his fortieth year,

he emerged from his solitude into more active life. With some remains of

his fortune, which had accumulated during his retirement, he founded a

college for the study of Arabic, which was approved of by the Pope, with

many commendations upon his zeal and piety. At this time he narrowly

escaped assassination from an Arabian youth whom he had taken into

his service. Raymond had prayed to God, in some of his accesses of

fanaticism, that he might suffer martyrdom in his holy cause. His

servant had overheard him; and, being as great a fanatic as his master,

he resolved to gratify his wish, and punish him, at the same time, for

the curses which he incessantly launched against Mahomet and all who

believed in him, by stabbing him to the heart. He, therefore, aimed

a blow at his master, as he sat one day at table; but the instinct of

self-preservation being stronger than the desire of martyrdom, Raymond

grappled with his antagonist, and overthrew him. He scorned to take his

life himself; but handed him over to the authorities of the town, by

whom he was afterwards found dead in his prison.

After this adventure Raymond travelled to Paris, where he resided for

some time, and made the acquaintance of Arnold de Villeneuve. From him

he probably received some encouragement to search for the philosopher's

stone, as he began from that time forth to devote less of his attention

to religious matters, and more to the study of alchymy. Still he never

lost sight of the great object for which he lived--the conversion of the

Mahometans--and proceeded to Rome, to communicate personally with Pope

John XXI, on the best measures to be adopted for that end. The Pope gave

him encouragement in words, but failed to associate any other persons

with him in the enterprise which he meditated. Raymond, therefore,

set out for Tunis alone, and was kindly received by many Arabian

philosophers, who had heard of his fame as a professor of alchymy. If he

had stuck to alchymy while in their country, it would have been well for

him; but he began cursing Mahomet, and got himself into trouble. While

preaching the doctrines of Christianity in the great bazaar of Tunis, he

was arrested and thrown into prison. He was shortly afterwards brought

to trial, and sentenced to death. Some of his philosophic friends

interceded hard for him, and he was pardoned, upon condition that he

left Africa immediately, and never again set foot in it. If he was found

there again, no matter what his object might be, or whatever length

of time might intervene, his original sentence would be carried into

execution. Raymond was not at all solicitous of martyrdom when it came

to the point, whatever he might have been when there was no danger, and

he gladly accepted his life upon these conditions, and left Tunis with

the intention of proceeding to Rome. He afterwards changed his plan, and

established himself at Milan, where, for a length of time, he practised

alchymy, and some say astrology, with great success.

Most writers who believed in the secrets of alchymy, and who have

noticed the life of Raymond Lulli, assert, that while in Milan, he

received letters from Edward King of England, inviting him to settle in

his states. They add, that Lulli gladly accepted the invitation, and had

apartments assigned for his use in the Tower of London, where he refined

much gold; superintended the coinage of "rose-nobles;" and made gold out

of iron, quicksilver, lead, and pewter, to the amount of six millions.

The writers in the "Biographie Universelle," an excellent authority in

general, deny that Raymond was ever in England, and say, that in all

these stories of his wondrous powers as an alchymist, he has been

mistaken for another Raymond, a Jew, of Tarragona. Naude, in his

"Apologie," says, simply, "that six millions were given by Raymond Lulli

to King Edward, to make war against the Turks and other infidels:" not

that he transmuted so much metal into gold; but, as he afterwards adds,

that he advised Edward to lay a tax upon wool, which produced that

amount. To show that Raymond went to England, his admirers quote a work

attributed to him, "De Transmutatione Animae Metallorum," in which he

expressly says, that he was in England at the intercession of the King.

[Vidimus omnia ista dum ad Angliam transiimus, propter intercessionem

Domini Regis Edoardi illustrissimi.] The hermetic writers are not agreed

whether it was Edward I, or Edward II, who invited him over; but, by

fixing the date of his journey in 1312, they make it appear that it was

Edward II. Edmond Dickenson, in his work on the "Quintessences of the

Philosophers," says, that Raymond worked in Westminster Abbey, where, a

long time after his departure, there was found in the cell which he had

occupied, a great quantity of golden dust, of which the architects made

a great profit. In the biographical sketch of John Cremer, Abbot of

Westminster, given by Lenglet, it is said, that it was chiefly through

his instrumentality that Raymond came to England. Cremer had

been himself for thirty years occupied in the vain search for the

philosopher's stone, when he accidentally met Raymond in Italy, and

endeavoured to induce him to communicate his grand secret. Raymond told

him that he must find it for himself, as all great alchymists had done

before him. Cremer, on his return to England, spoke to King Edward in

high terms of the wonderful attainments of the philosopher, and a

letter of invitation was forthwith sent him. Robert Constantinus, in the

"Nomenclatore Scriptorum Medicorum," published in 1515, says, that after

a great deal of research, be found that Raymond Lulli resided for

some time in London, and that he actually made gold, by means of the

philosopher's stone, in the Tower; that he had seen the golden pieces of

his coinage, which were still named in England the nobles of Raymond,

or rose-nobles. Lulli himself appears to have boasted that he made gold;

for, in his well-known "Testamentum," he states, that he converted no

less than fifty thousand pounds weight of quicksilver, lead, and pewter

into that metal. [Converti una vice in aurum ad L millia pondo argenti

vivi, plumbi, et stanni.--Lullii Testamentum.] It seems highly probable

that the English King, believing in the extraordinary powers of the

alchymist, invited him to England to make test of them, and that he was

employed in refining gold and in coining. Camden, who is not credulous

in matters like these, affords his countenance to the story of his

coinage of nobles; and there is nothing at all wonderful in the fact

of a man famous for his knowledge of metals being employed in such a

capacity. Raymond was, at this time, an old man, in his seventy-seventh

year, and somewhat in his dotage. He was willing enough to have it

believed that he had discovered the grand secret, and supported the

rumour rather than contradicted it. He did not long remain in England;

but returned to Rome, to carry out the projects which were nearer to his

heart than the profession of alchymy. He had proposed them to several

successive Popes with little or no success. The first was a plan for

the introduction of the Oriental languages into all the monasteries

of Europe; the second, for the reduction into one of all the military

orders, that, being united, they might move more efficaciously against

the Saracens; and, the third, that the Sovereign Pontiff should

forbid the works of Averroes to be read in the schools, as being more

favourable to Mahometanism than to Christianity. The Pope did not

receive the old man with much cordiality; and, after remaining for

about two years in Rome, he proceeded once more to Africa, alone and

unprotected, to preach the Gospel of Jesus. He landed at Bona in 1314;

and so irritated the Mahometans by cursing their prophet, that they

stoned him, and left him for dead on the sea-shore. He was found some

hours afterwards by a party of Genoese merchants, who conveyed him on

board their vessel, and sailed towards Majorca. The unfortunate man

still breathed, but could not articulate. He lingered in this state for

some days, and expired just as the vessel arrived within sight of his

native shores. His body was conveyed with great pomp to the church of

St. Eulalia, at Palma, where a public funeral was instituted in his

honour. Miracles were afterwards said to have been worked at his tomb.

Thus ended the career of Raymond Lulli, one of the most extraordinary

men of his age; and, with the exception of his last boast about the

six millions of gold, the least inclined to quackery of any of the

professors of alchymy. His writings were very numerous, and include

nearly five hundred volumes, upon grammar, rhetoric, morals, theology,

politics, civil and canon law, physics, metaphysics, astronomy,

medicine, and chemistry.

ROGER BACON.

The powerful delusion of alchymy seized upon a mind still greater than

that of Raymond Lulli. Roger Bacon firmly believed in the philosopher's

stone, and spent much of his time in search of it. His example helped

to render all the learned men of the time more convinced of its

practicability, and more eager in the pursuit. He was born at Ilchester,

in the county of Somerset, in the year 1214. He studied for some time in

the university of Oxford, and afterwards in that of Paris, in which he

received the degree of doctor of divinity. Returning to England in 1240,

he became a monk of the order of St. Francis. He was by far the most

learned man of his age; and his acquirements were so much above the

comprehension of his contemporaries, that they could only account for

them by supposing that he was indebted for them to the devil. Voltaire

has not inaptly designated him "De l'or encroute de toutes les ordures

de son siecle;" but the crust of superstition that enveloped his

powerful mind, though it may have dimmed, could not obscure the

brightness of his genius. To him, and apparently to him only, among

all the inquiring spirits of the time, were known the properties of the

concave and convex lens. He also invented the magic-lantern; that pretty

plaything of modern days, which acquired for him a reputation that

embittered his life. In a history of alchymy, the name of this great man

cannot be omitted, although, unlike many others of whom we shall have

occasion to speak, he only made it secondary to other pursuits. The

love of universal knowledge that filled his mind, would not allow him to

neglect one branch of science, of which neither he nor the world could

yet see the absurdity. He made ample amends for his time lost in this

pursuit by his knowledge in physics and his acquaintance with astronomy.

The telescope, burning-glasses, and gunpowder, are discoveries which may

well carry his fame to the remotest time, and make the world blind to

the one spot of folly--the diagnosis of the age in which he lived,

and the circumstances by which he was surrounded. His treatise on

the "Admirable Power of Art and Nature in the Production of the

Philosopher's Stone" was translated into French by Girard de Tormes, and

published at Lyons in 1557. His "Mirror of Alchymy" was also published

in French in the same year, and in Paris in 1612, with some additions

from the works of Raymond Lulli. A complete list of all the published

treatises upon the subject may be seen in Lenglet du Fresnoy.

POPE JOHN XXII.

This Prelate is said to have been the friend and pupil of Arnold de

Villeneuve, by whom he was instructed in all the secrets of alchymy.

Tradition asserts of him, that he made great quantities of gold, and

died as rich as Croesus. He was born at Cahors, in the province of

Guienne, in the year 1244. He was a very eloquent preacher, and soon

reached high dignity in the Church. He wrote a work on the transmutation

of metals, and had a famous laboratory at Avignon. He issued two Bulls

against the numerous pretenders to the art, who had sprung up in every

part of Christendom; from which it might be inferred that he was himself

free from the delusion. The alchymists claim him, however, as one of the

most distinguished and successful professors of their art, and say

that his Bulls were not directed against the real adepts, but the false

pretenders. They lay particular stress upon these words in his Bull,

"Spondent, quas non exhibent, divitias, pauperes alchymistae." These, it

is clear, they say, relate only to poor alchymists, and therefore false

ones. He died in the year 1344, leaving in his coffers a sum of eighteen

millions of florins. Popular belief alleged that he had made, and not

amassed, this treasure; and alchymists complacently cite this as a proof

that the philosopher's stone was not such a chimera as the incredulous

pretended. They take it for granted that John really left this money,

and ask by what possible means he could have accumulated it. Replying

to their own question, they say triumphantly, "His book shows it was by

alchymy, the secrets of which he learned from Arnold de Villeneuve and

Raymond Lulli. But he was as prudent as all other hermetic philosophers.

Whoever would read his book to find out his secret, would employ all his

labour in vain; the Pope took good care not to divulge it." Unluckily

for their own credit, all these gold-makers are in the same predicament;

their great secret loses its worth most wonderfully in the telling, and

therefore they keep it snugly to themselves. Perhaps they thought that,

if everybody could transmute metals, gold would be so plentiful that it

would be no longer valuable, and that some new art would be requisite

to transmute it back again into steel and iron. If so, society is much

indebted to them for their forbearance.

JEAN DE MEUNG

All classes of men dabbled in the art at this time; the last mentioned

was a Pope, the one of whom we now speak was a poet. Jean de Meung, the

celebrated author of the "Roman de la Rose," was born in the year 1279

or 1280, and was a great personage at the courts of Louis X, Philip the

Long, Charles IV, and Philip de Valois. His famous poem of the "Roman

de la Rose," which treats of every subject in vogue at that day,

necessarily makes great mention of alchymy. Jean was a firm believer

in the art, and wrote, besides his, "Roman," two shorter poems, the one

entitled, "The Remonstrance of Nature to the wandering Alchymist," and

"The Reply of the Alchymist to Nature." Poetry and alchymy were his

delight, and priests and women were his abomination. A pleasant story is

related of him and the ladies of the court of Charles IV. He had written

the following libellous couplet upon the fair sex:--

"Toutes etes, serez, ou futes

De fait ou de volonte, putains,

Et qui, tres bien vous chercherait

Toutes putains, vous trouverait."

[These verses are but a coarser expression of the slanderous line of

Pope, that "every woman is at heart a rake."]

This naturally gave great offence; and being perceived one day, in the

King's antechamber, by some ladies who were waiting for an audience,

they resolved to punish him. To the number of ten or twelve, they armed

themselves with canes and rods; and surrounding the unlucky poet, called

upon the gentlemen present to strip him naked, that they might wreak

just vengeance upon him, and lash him through the streets of the town.

Some of the lords present were in no wise loth, and promised themselves

great sport from his punishment. But Jean de Meung was unmoved by their

threats, and stood up calmly in the midst of them, begging them to hear

him first, and then, if not satisfied, they might do as they liked with

him. Silence being restored, he stood upon a chair, and entered on his

defence. He acknowledged that he was the author of the obnoxious verses,

but denied that they bore reference to all womankind. He only meant to

speak of the vicious and abandoned, whereas those whom he saw around

him, were patterns of virtue, loveliness, and modesty. If, however, any

lady present thought herself aggrieved, he would consent to be stripped,

and she might lash him till her arms were wearied. It is added, that

by this means Jean escaped his flogging, and that the wrath of the

fair ones immediately subsided. The gentlemen present were, however, of

opinion, that if every lady in the room, whose character corresponded

with the verses, had taken him at his word, the poet would, in all

probability, have been beaten to death. All his life long he evinced a

great animosity towards the priesthood, and his famous poem abounds with

passages reflecting upon their avarice, cruelty, and immorality. At his

death he left a large box, filled with some weighty material, which he

bequeathed to the Cordeliers, as a peace-offering, for the abuse he had

lavished upon them. As his practice of alchymy was well-known, it was

thought the box was filled with gold and silver, and the Cordeliers

congratulated each other on their rich acquisition. When it came to be

opened, they found to their horror that it was filled only with slates,

scratched with hieroglyphic and cabalistic characters. Indignant at the

insult, they determined to refuse him Christian burial, on pretence

that he was a sorcerer. He was, however, honourably buried in Paris, the

whole court attending his funeral.

NICHOLAS FLAMEL.

The story of this alchymist, as handed down by tradition, and enshrined

in the pages of Lenglet du Fresnoy, is not a little marvellous. He was

born at Pontoise of a poor but respectable family, at the end of

the thirteenth, or beginning of the fourteenth, century. Having no

patrimony, he set out for Paris at an early age, to try his fortune as a

public scribe. He had received a good education, was well skilled in

the learned languages, and was an excellent penman. He soon procured

occupation as a letter-writer and copyist, and used to sit at the corner

of the Rue de Marivaux, and practise his calling: but he hardly made

profits enough to keep body and soul together. To mend his fortunes

he tried poetry; but this was a more wretched occupation still. As a

transcriber he had at least gained bread and cheese; but his rhymes were

not worth a crust. He then tried painting with as little success; and as

a last resource, began to search for the philosopher's stone, and tell

fortunes. This was a happier idea; he soon increased in substance, and

had wherewithal to live comfortably. He, therefore, took unto himself

his wife Petronella, and began to save money; but continued to all

outward appearance as poor and miserable as before. In the course of a

few years, he became desperately addicted to the study of alchymy, and

thought of nothing but the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life, and

the universal alkahest. In the year 1257, he bought by chance an old

book for two florins, which soon became the sole study and object of his

life. It was written with a steel instrument upon the bark of trees, and

contained twenty-one, or as he himself always expressed it, three times

seven, leaves. The writing was very elegant and in the Latin language.

Each seventh leaf contained a picture and no writing. On the first

of these was a serpent swallowing rods; on the second, a cross with a

serpent crucified; and on the third, the representation of a desert, in

the midst of which was a fountain with serpents crawling from side to

side. It purported to be written by no less a personage than "Abraham,

patriarch, Jew, prince, philosopher, priest, Levite, and astrologer;"

and invoked curses upon any one who should cast eyes upon it, without

being a sacrificer or a scribe. Nicholas Flamel never thought it

extraordinary that Abraham should have known Latin, and was convinced

that the characters on his book had been traced by the hands of that

great patriarch himself. He was at first afraid to read it, after he

became aware of the curse it contained; but he got over that difficulty

by recollecting that, although he was not a sacrificer, he had practised

as a scribe. As he read he was filled with admiration, and found that it

was a perfect treatise upon the transmutation of metals. All the process

was clearly explained; the vessels, the retorts, the mixtures, and the

proper times and seasons for the experiment. But as ill-luck would have

it, the possession of the philosopher's stone or prime agent in the work

was presupposed. This was a difficulty which was not to be got over.

It was like telling a starving man how to cook a beefsteak, instead of

giving him the money to buy one. But Nicholas did not despair; and set

about studying the hieroglyphics and allegorical representations with

which the book abounded. He soon convinced himself that it had been one

of the sacred books of the Jews, and that it was taken from the temple

of Jerusalem on its destruction by Titus. The process of reasoning by

which he arrived at this conclusion is not stated.

From some expression in the treatise, he learned that the allegorical

drawings on the fourth and fifth leaves, enshrined the secret of the

philosopher's stone, without which all the fine Latin of the directions

was utterly unavailing. He invited all the alchymists and learned men

of Paris to come and examine them, but they all departed as wise as they

came. Nobody could make anything either of Nicholas or his pictures; and

some even went so far as to say that his invaluable book was not worth

a farthing. This was not to be borne; and Nicholas resolved to discover

the great secret by himself, without troubling the philosophers. He

found on the first page, of the fourth leaf, the picture of Mercury,

attacked by an old man resembling Saturn or Time. The latter had an

hourglass on his head, and in his hand a scythe, with which he aimed

a blow at Mercury's feet. The reverse of the leaf represented a flower

growing on a mountain top, shaken rudely by the wind, with a blue stalk,

red and white blossoms, and leaves of pure gold. Around it were a great

number of dragons and griffins. On the first page of the fifth leaf

was a fine garden, in the midst of which was a rose tree in full bloom,

supported against the trunk of a gigantic oak. At the foot of this there

bubbled up a fountain of milk-white water, which forming a small stream,

flowed through the garden, and was afterwards lost in the sands. On

the second page was a King, with a sword in his hand, superintending

a number of soldiers, who, in execution of his orders, were killing a

great multitude of young children, spurning the prayers and tears of

their mothers, who tried to save them from destruction. The blood of the

children was carefully collected by another party of soldiers, and put

into a large vessel, in which two allegorical figures of the Sun and

Moon were bathing themselves.

For twenty-one years poor Nicholas wearied himself with the study

of these pictures, but still he could make nothing of them. His wife

Petronella at last persuaded him to find out some learned Rabbi; but

there was no Rabbi in Paris learned enough to be of any service to him.

The Jews met but small encouragement to fix their abode in France,

and all the chiefs of that people were located in Spain. To Spain

accordingly Nicholas Flamel repaired. He left his book in Paris for

fear, perhaps, that he might be robbed of it on the road; and telling

his neighbours that he was going on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St.

James of Compostello, he trudged on foot towards Madrid in search of a

Rabbi. He was absent two years in that country, and made himself known

to a great number of Jews, descendants of those who had been expelled

from France in the reign of Philip Augustus. The believers in the

philosopher's stone give the following account of his adventures:--They

say that at Leon he made the acquaintance of a converted Jew, named

Cauches, a very learned physician, to whom he explained the title and

the nature of his little book. The Doctor was transported with joy

as soon as he heard it named, and immediately resolved to accompany

Nicholas to Paris, that he might have a sight of it. The two set out

together; the Doctor on the way entertaining his companion with the

history of his book, which, if the genuine book he thought it to be,

from the description he had heard of it, was in the handwriting of

Abraham himself, and had been in the possession of personages no less

distinguished than Moses, Joshua, Solomon, and Esdras. It contained

all the secrets of alchymy and of many other sciences, and was the

most valuable book that had ever existed in this world. The Doctor was

himself no mean adept, and Nicholas profited greatly by his discourse,

as in the garb of poor pilgrims they wended their way to Paris,

convinced of their power to turn every old shovel in that capital into

pure gold. But, unfortunately, when they reached Orleans, the Doctor was

taken dangerously ill. Nicholas watched by his bedside, and acted the

double part of a physician and nurse to him; but he died after a few

days, lamenting with his last breath that he had not lived long enough

to see the precious volume. Nicholas rendered the last honours to

his body; and with a sorrowful heart, and not one sous in his pocket,

proceeded home to his wife Petronella. He immediately recommenced

the study of his pictures; but for two whole years he was as far from

understanding them as ever. At last, in the third year, a glimmer of

light stole over his understanding. He recalled some expression of his

friend, the Doctor, which had hitherto escaped his memory, and he found

that all his previous experiments had been conducted on a wrong basis.

He recommenced them now with renewed energy, and at the end of the year

had the satisfaction to see all his toils rewarded. On the 13th January

1382, says Lenglet, he made a projection on mercury, and had some very

excellent silver. On the 25th April following, he converted a large

quantity of mercury into gold, and the great secret was his.

Nicholas was now about eighty years of age, and still a hale and stout

old man. His friends say that, by the simultaneous discovery of the

elixir of life, he found means to keep death at a distance for another

quarter of a century; and that he died in 1415, at the age of 116. In

this interval he had made immense quantities of gold, though to all

outward appearance he was as poor as a mouse. At an early period of his

changed fortune, he had, like a worthy man, taken counsel with his

old wife Petronella, as to the best use he could make of his wealth.

Petronella replied, that as unfortunately they had no children, the best

thing he could do, was to build hospitals and endow churches. Nicholas

thought so too, especially when he began to find that his elixir could

not keep off death, and that the grim foe was making rapid advances upon

him. He richly endowed the church of St. Jacques de la Boucherie, near

the Rue de Marivaux, where he had all his life resided, besides seven

others in different parts of the kingdom. He also endowed fourteen

hospitals, and built three chapels.

The fame of his great wealth and his munificent benefactions soon

spread over all the country, and he was visited, among others, by the

celebrated Doctors of that day, Jean Gerson, Jean de Courtecuisse, and

Pierre d'Ailli. They found him in his humble apartment, meanly clad, and

eating porridge out of an earthen vessel; and with regard to his secret,

as impenetrable as all his predecessors in alchymy. His fame reached

the ears of the King, Charles VI, who sent M. de Cramoisi, the Master

of Requests, to find out whether Nicholas had indeed discovered the

philosopher's stone. But M. de Cramoisi took nothing by his visit; all

his attempts to sound the alchymist were unavailing, and he returned to

his royal master no wiser than he came. It was in this year, 1414, that

he lost his faithful Petronella. He did not long survive her; but died

in the following year, and was buried with great pomp by the grateful

priests of St. Jacques de la Boucherie.

The great wealth of Nicholas Flamel is undoubted, as the records of

several churches and hospitals in France can testify. That he practised

alchymy is equally certain, as he left behind several works upon the

subject.

Those who knew him well, and who were incredulous about the

philosopher's stone, give a very satisfactory solution of the secret of

his wealth. They say that he was always a miser and a usurer; that his

journey to Spain was undertaken with very different motives from those

pretended by the alchymists; that, in fact, he went to collect debts

due from Jews in that country to their brethren in Paris, and that he

charged a commission of fully cent. per cent. in consideration of the

difficulty of collecting and the dangers of the road; that when he

possessed thousands, he lived upon almost nothing; and was the general

money-lender, at enormous profits, of all the dissipated young men at

the French court.

Among the works written by Nicholas Flamel on the subject of alchymy, is

"The Philosophic Summary," a poem, reprinted in 1735, as an appendix

to the third volume of the "Roman de la Rose." He also wrote three

treatises upon natural philosophy, and an alchymic allegory, entitled

"Le Desir desire." Specimens of his writing, and a fac-simile of the

drawings in his book of Abraham, may be seen in Salmon's "Bibliotheque

des Philosophes Chimiques." The writer of the article, "Flamel," in the

"Biographie Universelle," says that, for a hundred years after the death

of Flamel, many of the adepts believed that he was still alive, and that

he would live for upwards of six hundred years. The house he formerly

occupied, at the corner of the Rue de Marivaux, has been often taken by

credulous speculators, and ransacked from top to bottom, in the hopes

that gold might be found. A report was current in Paris, not long

previous to the year 1816, that some lodgers had found in the cellars

several jars filled with a dark-coloured ponderous matter. Upon the

strength of the rumour, a believer in all the wondrous tales told of

Nicholas Flamel bought the house, and nearly pulled it to pieces in

ransacking the walls and wainscotting for hidden gold. He got nothing

for his pains, however, and had a heavy bill to pay to restore his

dilapidations.

GEORGE RIPLEY.

While alchymy was thus cultivated on the continent of Europe, it was not

neglected in the isles of Britain. Since the time of Roger Bacon, it had

fascinated the imagination of many ardent men in England. In the year

1404, an act of parliament was passed, declaring the making of gold

and silver to be felony. Great alarm was felt at that time lest any

alchymist should succeed in his projects, and perhaps bring ruin upon

the state, by furnishing boundless wealth to some designing tyrant, who

would make use of it to enslave his country. This alarm appears to have

soon subsided; for, in the year 1455, King Henry VI, by advice of his

council and parliament, granted four successive patents and commissions

to several knights, citizens of London, chemists, monks, mass-priests,

and others, to find out the philosopher's stone and elixir, "to the

great benefit," said the patent, "of the realm, and the enabling of the

King to pay all the debts of the Crown in real gold and silver." Prinn,

in his "Aurum Reginae," observes, as a note to this passage, that the

King's reason for granting this patent to ecclesiastics was, that they

were such good artists in transubstantiating bread and wine in the

Eucharist, and therefore the more likely to be able to effect the

transmutation of baser metals into better. No gold, of course, was ever

made; and, next year, the King, doubting very much of the practicability

of the thing, took further advice, and appointed a commission of ten

learned men, and persons of eminence, to judge and certify to him

whether the transmutation of metals were a thing practicable or no. It

does not appear whether the commission ever made any report upon the

subject.

In the succeeding reign, an alchymist appeared who pretended to have

discovered the secret. This was George Ripley, the canon of Bridlington,

in Yorkshire. He studied for twenty years in the universities of Italy,

and was a great favourite with Pope Innocent VIII, who made him one of

his domestic chaplains, and master of the ceremonies in his household.

Returning to England in 1477, he dedicated to King Edward IV. his famous

work, "The Compound of Alchymy; or, the Twelve Gates leading to the

Discovery of the Philosopher's Stone." These gates he described to

be calcination, solution, separation, conjunction, putrefaction,

congelation, cibation, sublimation, fermentation, exaltation,

multiplication, and projection! to which he might have added

botheration, the most important process of all. He was very rich, and

allowed it to be believed that he could make gold out of iron. Fuller,

in his "Worthies of England," says that an English gentleman of good

credit reported that, in his travels abroad, he saw a record in the

island of Malta, which declared that Ripley gave yearly to the knights

of that island, and of Rhodes, the enormous sum of one hundred thousand

pounds sterling, to enable them to carry on the war against the

Turks. In his old age, he became an anchorite near Boston, and wrote

twenty-five volumes upon the subject of alchymy, the most important of

which is the "Duodecim Portarum," already mentioned. Before he died, he

seems to have acknowledged that he had misspent his life in this vain

study, and requested that all men, when they met with any of his books,

would burn them, or afford them no credit, as they had been written

merely from his opinion, and not from proof; and that subsequent trial

had made manifest to him that they were false and vain. [Fuller's

"Worthies of England."]

BASIL VALENTINE.

Germany also produced many famous alchymists in the fifteenth century,

the chief of whom are Basil Valentine, Bernard of Treves, and the Abbot

Trithemius. Basil Valentine was born at Mayence, and was made prior of

St. Peter's, at Erfurt, about the year 1414. It was known, during his

life, that he diligently sought the philosopher's stone, and that he had

written some works upon the process of transmutation. They were thought,

for many years, to be lost; but were, after his death, discovered

enclosed in the stone work of one of the pillars in the Abbey. They were

twenty-one in number, and are fully set forth in the third volume of

Lenglet's "History of the Hermetic Philosophy." The alchymists asserted,

that Heaven itself conspired to bring to light these extraordinary

works; and that the pillar in which they were enclosed was miraculously

shattered by a thunderbolt; and that, as soon as the manuscripts were

liberated, the pillar closed up again of its own accord!

BERNARD of TREVES.

The life of this philosopher is a remarkable instance of talent and

perseverance misapplied. In the search of his chimera nothing could

daunt him. Repeated disappointment never diminished his hopes; and, from

the age of fourteen to that of eighty-five, he was incessantly employed

among the drugs and furnaces of his laboratory, wasting his life with

the view of prolonging it, and reducing himself to beggary in the hopes

of growing rich.

He was born at either Treves or Padua, in the year 1406. His father is

said by some to have been a physician in the latter city; and by others,

to have been Count of the Marches of Treves, and one of the most wealthy

nobles of his country. At all events, whether noble or physician, he

was a rich man, and left his son a magnificent estate. At the age of

fourteen he first became enamoured of the science of alchymy, and read

the Arabian authors in their own language. He himself has left a

most interesting record of his labours and wanderings, from which the

following particulars are chiefly extracted:--The first book which fell

into his hands, was that of the Arabian philosopher, Rhazes, from

the reading of which he imagined that he had discovered the means

of augmenting gold a hundred fold. For four years he worked in his

laboratory, with the book of Rhazes continually before him. At the end

of that time, he found that he had spent no less than eight hundred

crowns upon his experiment, and had got nothing but fire and smoke for

his pains. He now began to lose confidence in Rhazes, and turned to the

works of Geber. He studied him assiduously for two years; and, being

young, rich, and credulous, was beset by all the chymists of the town,

who kindly assisted him in spending his money. He did not lose his faith

in Geber, or patience with his hungry assistants, until he had lost two

thousand crowns--a very considerable sum in those days.

Among all the crowd of pretended men of science who surrounded him,

there was but one as enthusiastic and as disinterested as himself. With

this man, who was a monk of the order of St. Francis, he contracted

an intimate friendship, and spent nearly all his time. Some obscure

treatises of Rupecissa and Sacrobosco having fallen into their hands,

they were persuaded, from reading them, that highly rectified spirits

of wine was the universal alkahest, or dissolvent, which would aid them

greatly in the process of transmutation. They rectified the alcohol

thirty times, till they made it so strong as to burst the vessels which

contained it. After they had worked three years, and spent three hundred

crowns in the liquor, they discovered that they were on the wrong track.

They next tried alum and copperas; but the great secret still escaped

them. They afterwards imagined that there was a marvellous virtue in

all excrement, especially the human, and actually employed more than two

years in experimentalizing upon it, with mercury, salt, and molten lead!

Again the adepts flocked around him from far and near, to aid him with

their counsels. He received them all hospitably, and divided his wealth

among them so generously and unhesitatingly, that they gave him the name

of the "good Trevisan," by which he is still often mentioned in works

that treat on alchymy. For twelve years he led this life, making

experiments every day upon some new substance, and praying to God night

and morning that he might discover the secret of transmutation.

In this interval he lost his friend the monk, and was joined by a

magistrate of the city of Treves, as ardent as himself in the search.

His new acquaintance imagined that the ocean was the mother of gold,

and that sea-salt would change lead or iron into the precious metals.

Bernard resolved to try; and, transporting his laboratory to a house

on the coast of the Baltic, he worked upon salt for more than a year,

melting it, sublimating it, crystalizing it, and occasionally drinking

it, for the sake of other experiments. Still the strange enthusiast was

not wholly discouraged, and his failure in one trial only made him the

more anxious to attempt another.

He was now approaching the age of fifty, and had as yet seen nothing of

the world. He, therefore, determined to travel through Germany, Italy,

France, and Spain. Wherever he stopped he made inquiries whether there

were any alchymists in the neighbourhood. He invariably sought them out;

and, if they were poor, relieved, and, if affluent, encouraged them. At

Citeaux he became acquainted with one Geoffrey Leuvier, a monk of that

place, who persuaded him that the essence of egg-shells was a valuable

ingredient. He tried, therefore, what could be done; and was only

prevented from wasting a year or two on the experiment by the opinions

of an attorney, at Berghem, in Flanders, who said that the great secret

resided in vinegar and copperas. He was not convinced of the absurdity

of this idea until he had nearly poisoned himself. He resided in France

for about five years, when, hearing accidentally that one Master Henry,

confessor to the Emperor Frederic III, had discovered the philosopher's

stone, he set out for Germany to pay him a visit. He had, as usual,

surrounded himself with a set of hungry dependants, several of whom

determined to accompany him. He had not heart to refuse them, and he

arrived at Vienna with five of them. Bernard sent a polite invitation

to the confessor, and gave him a sumptuous entertainment, at which

were present nearly all the alchymists of Vienna. Master Henry frankly

confessed that he had not discovered the philosopher's stone, but that

he had all his life been employed in searching for it, and would so

continue, till he found it;--or died. This was a man after Bernard's

own heart, and they vowed with each other an eternal friendship. It was

resolved, at supper, that each alchymist present should contribute a

certain sum towards raising forty-two marks of gold, which, in five

days, it was confidently asserted by Master Henry, would increase, in

his furnace, five fold. Bernard, being the richest man, contributed the

lion's share, ten marks of gold, Master Henry five, and the others one

or two a piece, except the dependants of Bernard, who were obliged to

borrow their quota from their patron. The grand experiment was duly

made; the golden marks were put into a crucible, with a quantity of

salt, copperas, aquafortis, egg-shells, mercury, lead, and dung. The

alchymists watched this precious mess with intense interest, expecting

that it would agglomerate into one lump of pure gold. At the end of

three weeks they gave up the trial, upon some excuse that the crucible

was not strong enough, or that some necessary ingredient was wanting.

Whether any thief had put his hands into the crucible is not known, but

it is certain that the gold found therein at the close of the experiment

was worth only sixteen marks, instead of the forty-two, which were put

there at the beginning.

Bernard, though he made no gold at Vienna, made away with a very

considerable quantity. He felt the loss so acutely, that he vowed to

think no more of the philosopher's stone. This wise resolution he kept

for two months; but he was miserable. He was in the condition of the

gambler, who cannot resist the fascination of the game while he has a

coin remaining, but plays on with the hope of retrieving former losses,

till hope forsakes him, and he can live no longer. He returned once

more to his beloved crucibles, and resolved to prosecute his journey

in search of a philosopher who had discovered the secret, and would

communicate it to so zealous and persevering an adept as himself. From

Vienna he travelled to Rome, and from Rome to Madrid. Taking ship at

Gibraltar, he proceeded to Messina; from Messina to Cyprus; from

Cyprus to Greece; from Greece to Constantinople; and thence into Egypt,

Palestine, and Persia. These wanderings occupied him about eight years.

From Persia he made his way back to Messina, and from thence into

France. He afterwards passed over into England, still in search of his

great chimera; and this occupied four years more of his life. He was now

growing both old and poor; for he was sixty-two years of age, and had

been obliged to sell a great portion of his patrimony to provide for his

expenses. His journey to Persia had cost upwards of thirteen thousand

crowns, about one-half of which had been fairly melted in his

all-devouring furnaces: the other half was lavished upon the sycophants

that he made it his business to search out in every town he stopped at.

On his return to Treves he found, to his sorrow, that, if not an actual

beggar, he was not much better. His relatives looked upon him as a

madman, and refused even to see him. Too proud to ask for favours from

any one, and still confident that, some day or other, he would be the

possessor of unbounded wealth, he made up his mind to retire to the

island of Rhodes, where he might, in the mean time, hide his poverty

from the eyes of all the world. Here he might have lived unknown and

happy; but, as ill luck would have it, he fell in with a monk as mad as

himself upon the subject of transmutation. They were, however, both

so poor that they could not afford to buy the proper materials to work

with. They kept up each other's spirits by learned discourses on the

Hermetic Philosophy, and in the reading of all the great authors who had

written upon the subject. Thus did they nurse their folly, as the good

wife of Tam O'Shanter did her wrath, "to keep it warm." After Bernard

had resided about a year in Rhodes, a merchant, who knew his family,

advanced him the sum of eight thousand florins, upon the security of the

last-remaining acres of his formerly large estate. Once more provided

with funds, he recommenced his labours with all the zeal and enthusiasm

of a young man. For three years he hardly stepped out of his laboratory:

he ate there, and slept there, and did not even give himself time to

wash his hands and clean his beard, so intense was his application. It

is melancholy to think that such wonderful perseverance should have been

wasted in so vain a pursuit, and that energies so unconquerable should

have had no worthier field to strive in. Even when he had fumed away his

last coin, and had nothing left in prospective to keep his old age

from starvation, hope never forsook him. He still dreamed of ultimate

success, and sat down a greyheaded man of eighty, to read over all the

authors on the hermetic mysteries, from Geber to his own day, lest he

should have misunderstood some process, which it was not yet too late

to recommence. The alchymists say, that he succeeded at last, and

discovered the secret of transmutation in his eighty-second year. They

add, that he lived three years afterwards to enjoy his wealth. He lived,

it is true, to this great age, and made a valuable discovery--more

valuable than gold or gems. He learned, as he himself informs us, just

before he had attained his eighty-third year, that the great secret of

philosophy was contentment with our lot. Happy would it have been for

him if he had discovered it sooner, and before he became decrepit, a

beggar, and an exile!

He died at Rhodes, in the year 1490, and all the alchymists of Europe

sang elegies over him, and sounded his praise as the "good Trevisan."

He wrote several treatises upon his chimera, the chief of which are,

the "Book of Chemistry," the "Verbum dimissum," and an essay "De Natura

Ovi."

TRITHEMIUS.

The name of this eminent man has become famous in the annals of alchymy,

although he did but little to gain so questionable an honour. He was

born in the year 1462, at the village of Trittheim, in the electorate

of Treves. His father was John Heidenberg, a vine-grower, in easy

circumstances, who, dying when his son was but seven years old, left

him to the care of his mother. The latter married again very shortly

afterwards, and neglected the poor boy, the offspring of her first

marriage. At the age of fifteen he did not even know his letters,

and was, besides, half starved, and otherwise ill-treated by his

step-father; but the love of knowledge germinated in the breast of the

unfortunate youth, and he learned to read at the house of a neighbour.

His father-in-law set him to work in the vineyards, and thus occupied

all his days; but the nights were his own. He often stole out unheeded,

when all the household were fast asleep, poring over his studies in the

fields, by the light of the moon; and thus taught himself Latin and the

rudiments of Greek. He was subjected to so much ill-usage at home,

in consequence of this love of study, that he determined to leave it.

Demanding the patrimony which his father had left him, he proceeded to

Treves; and, assuming the name of Trithemius, from that of his native

village of Trittheim, lived there for some months, under the tuition of

eminent masters, by whom he was prepared for the university. At the

age of twenty, he took it into his head that he should like to see his

mother once more; and he set out on foot from the distant university for

that purpose. On his arrival near Spannheim, late in the evening of a

gloomy winter's day, it came on to snow so thickly, that he could not

proceed onwards to the town. He, therefore, took refuge for the night

in a neighbouring monastery; but the storm continued several days, the

roads became impassable, and the hospitable monks would not hear of his

departure. He was so pleased with them and their manner of life, that he

suddenly resolved to fix his abode among them, and renounce the world.

They were no less pleased with him, and gladly received him as a

brother. In the course of two years, although still so young, he

was unanimously elected their Abbot. The financial affairs of the

establishment had been greatly neglected, the walls of the building were

falling into ruin, and everything was in disorder. Trithemius, by his

good management and regularity, introduced a reform in every branch of

expenditure. The monastery was repaired, and a yearly surplus, instead

of a deficiency, rewarded him for his pains. He did not like to see the

monks idle, or occupied solely between prayers for their business, and

chess for their relaxation. He, therefore, set them to work to copy the

writings of eminent authors. They laboured so assiduously, that, in the

course of a few years, their library, which had contained only about

forty volumes, was enriched with several hundred valuable manuscripts,

comprising many of the classical Latin authors, besides the works of

the early fathers, and the principal historians and philosophers of

more modern date. He retained the dignity of Abbot of Spannheim for

twenty-one years, when the monks, tired of the severe discipline he

maintained, revolted against him, and chose another abbot in his place.

He was afterwards made Abbot of St. James, in Wurtzburg, where he died

in 1516.

During his learned leisure at Spannheim, he wrote several works upon

the occult sciences, the chief of which are an essay on geomancy, or

divination by means of lines and circles on the ground; another upon

sorcery; a third upon alchymy; and a fourth upon the government of the

world by its presiding angels, which was translated into English, and

published by the famous William Lilly in 1647.

It has been alleged by the believers in the possibility of

transmutation, that the prosperity of the abbey of Spannheim, while

under his superintendence, was owing more to the philosopher's stone

than to wise economy. Trithemius, in common with many other learned men,

has been accused of magic; and a marvellous story is told of his having

raised from the grave the form of Mary of Burgundy, at the intercession

of her widowed husband, the Emperor Maximilian. His work on

steganographia, or cabalistic writing, was denounced to the Count

Palatine, Frederic II, as magical and devilish; and it was by him taken

from the shelves of his library and thrown into the fire. Trithemius is

said to be the first writer who makes mention of the wonderful story

of the devil and Dr. Faustus, the truth of which he firmly believed. He

also recounts the freaks of a spirit, named Hudekin, by whom he was at

times tormented. [Biographie Universelle]

THE MARECHAL DE RAYS.

One of the greatest encouragers of alchymy in the fifteenth century

was Gilles de Laval, Lord of Rays and a Marshal of France. His name and

deeds are little known; but in the annals of crime and folly, they might

claim the highest and worst pro-eminence. Fiction has never invented

anything wilder or more horrible than his career; and were not the

details but too well authenticated by legal and other documents which

admit no doubt, the lover of romance might easily imagine they were

drawn to please him from the stores of the prolific brain, and not from

the page of history.

He was born about the year 1420, of one of the noblest families of

Brittany. His father dying when Gilles had attained his twentieth year,

he came into uncontrolled possession, at that early age, of a fortune

which the monarchs of France might have envied him. He was a near

kinsman of the Montmorencys, the Roncys, and the Craons; possessed

fifteen princely domains, and had an annual revenue of about three

hundred thousand livres. Besides this, he was handsome, learned, and

brave. He distinguished himself greatly in the wars of Charles VII, and

was rewarded by that monarch with the dignity of a marshal of France.

But he was extravagant and magnificent in his style of living, and

accustomed from his earliest years to the gratification of every wish

and passion; and this, at last, led him from vice to vice, and from

crime to crime, till a blacker name than his is not to be found in any

record of human iniquity.

In his castle of Champtoce, he lived with all the splendour of an

Eastern Caliph. He kept up a troop of two hundred horsemen to accompany

him wherever he went; and his excursions for the purposes of hawking and

hunting were the wonder of all the country around, so magnificent were

the caparisons of his steeds and the dresses of his retainers. Day and

night, his castle was open all the year round to comers of every degree.

He made it a rule to regale even the poorest beggar with wine and

hippocrass. Every day an ox was roasted whole in his spacious kitchens,

besides sheep, pigs, and poultry sufficient to feed five hundred

persons. He was equally magnificent in his devotions. His private chapel

at Champtoce was the most beautiful in France, and far surpassed any

of those in the richly-endowed cathedrals of Notre Dame in Paris, of

Amiens, of Beauvais, or of Rouen. It was hung with cloth of gold and

rich velvet. All the chandeliers were of pure gold, curiously inlaid

with silver. The great crucifix over the altar was of solid silver, and

the chalices and incense-burners were of pure gold. He had, besides, a

fine organ, which he caused to be carried from one castle to another, on

the shoulders of six men, whenever he changed his residence. He kept up

a choir of twenty-five young children of both sexes, who were instructed

in singing by the first musicians of the day. The master of his chapel

he called a bishop, who had under him his deans, archdeacons, and

vicars, each receiving great salaries; the bishop four hundred crowns a

year, and the rest in proportion.

He also maintained a whole troop of players, including ten dancing-girls

and as many ballad-singers, besides morris-dancers, jugglers, and

mountebanks of every description. The theatre on which they performed

was fitted up without any regard to expense; and they played mysteries,

or danced the morris-dance, every evening, for the amusement of

himself and household, and such strangers as were sharing his prodigal

hospitality.

At the age of twenty-three, he married Catherine, the wealthy heiress of

the house of Touars, for whom he refurnished his castle at an expense

of a hundred thousand crowns. His marriage was the signal for new

extravagance, and he launched out more madly than ever he had done

before; sending for fine singers or celebrated dancers from foreign

countries to amuse him and his spouse, and instituting tilts and

tournaments in his great court-yard almost every week for all the

knights and nobles of the province of Brittany. The Duke of Brittany's

court was not half so splendid as that of the Marechal de Rays. His

utter disregard of wealth was so well known that he was made to pay

three times its value for everything he purchased. His castle was filled

with needy parasites and panderers to his pleasures, amongst whom he

lavished rewards with an unsparing hand. But the ordinary round of

sensual gratification ceased at last to afford him delight: he was

observed to be more abstemious in the pleasures of the table, and to

neglect the beauteous dancing-girls who used formerly to occupy so much

of his attention. He was sometimes gloomy and reserved; and there was

an unnatural wildness in his eye which gave indications of incipient

madness. Still, his discourse was as reasonable as ever; his urbanity

to the guests that flocked from far and near to Champtoce suffered no

diminution; and learned priests, when they conversed with him, thought

to themselves that few of the nobles of France were so well-informed

as Gilles de Laval. But dark rumours spread gradually over the country;

murder, and, if possible, still more atrocious deeds were hinted at;

and it was remarked that many young children, of both sexes, suddenly

disappeared, and were never afterwards heard of. One or two had been

traced to the castle of Champtoce, and had never been seen to leave it;

but no one dared to accuse openly so powerful a man as the Marechal de

Rays. Whenever the subject of the lost children was mentioned in his

presence, he manifested the greatest astonishment at the mystery which

involved their fate, and indignation against those who might be guilty

of kidnapping them. Still the world was not wholly deceived; his name

became as formidable to young children as that of the devouring ogre in

fairy tales; and they were taught to go miles round, rather than pass

under the turrets of Champtoce.

In the course of a very few years, the reckless extravagance of the

Marshal drained him of all his funds, and he was obliged to put up some

of his estates for sale. The Duke of Brittany entered into a treaty

with him for the valuable seignory of Ingrande; but the heirs of Gilles

implored the interference of Charles VII. to stay the sale. Charles

immediately issued an edict, which was confirmed by the Provincial

Parliament of Brittany, forbidding him to alienate his paternal estates.

Gilles had no alternative but to submit. He had nothing to support his

extravagance but his allowance as a Marshal of France, which did not

cover the one-tenth of his expenses. A man of his habits and character

could not retrench his wasteful expenditure and live reasonably;

he could not dismiss without a pang his horsemen, his jesters, his

morris-dancers, his choristers, and his parasites, or confine his

hospitality to those who really needed it. Notwithstanding his

diminished resources, he resolved to live as he had lived before, and

turn alchymist, that he might make gold out of iron, and be still the

wealthiest and most magnificent among the nobles of Brittany.

In pursuance of this determination he sent to Paris, Italy, Germany, and

Spain, inviting all the adepts in the science to visit him at Champtoce.

The messengers he despatched on this mission were two of his most needy

and unprincipled dependants, Gilles de Sille and Roger de Bricqueville.

The latter, the obsequious panderer to his most secret and abominable

pleasures, he had intrusted with the education of his motherless

daughter, a child but five years of age, with permission, that he might

marry her at the proper time to any person he chose, or to himself if he

liked it better. This man entered into the new plans of his master with

great zeal, and introduced to him one Prelati, an alchymist of Padua,

and a physician of Poitou, who was addicted to the same pursuits. The

Marshal caused a splendid laboratory to be fitted up for them, and the

three commenced the search for the philosopher's stone. They were soon

afterwards joined by another pretended philosopher, named Anthony of

Palermo, who aided in their operations for upwards of a year. They all

fared sumptuously at the Marshal's expense, draining him of the ready

money he possessed, and leading him on from day to day with the hope

that they would succeed in the object of their search. From time to time

new aspirants from the remotest parts of Europe arrived at his castle,

and for months he had upwards of twenty alchymists at work--trying to

transmute copper into gold, and wasting the gold, which was still his

own, in drugs and elixirs.

But the Lord of Rays was not a man to abide patiently their lingering

processes. Pleased with their comfortable quarters, they jogged on from

day to day, and would have done so for years, had they been permitted.

But he suddenly dismissed them all, with the exception of the Italian

Prelati, and the physician of Poitou. These he retained to aid him to

discover the secret of the philosopher's stone by a bolder method. The

Poitousan had persuaded him that the devil was the great depositary of

that and all other secrets, and that he would raise him before Gilles,

who might enter into any contract he pleased with him. Gilles expressed

his readiness, and promised to give the devil anything but his soul, or

do any deed that the arch-enemy might impose upon him. Attended solely

by the physician, he proceeded at midnight to a wild-looking place in

a neighbouring forest; the physician drew a magic circle around them

on the sward, and muttered for half an hour an invocation to the Evil

Spirit to arise at his bidding, and disclose the secrets of alchymy.

Gilles looked on with intense interest, and expected every moment to see

the earth open, and deliver to his gaze the great enemy of mankind. At

last the eyes of the physician became fixed, his hair stood on end, and

he spoke, as if addressing the fiend. But Gilles saw nothing except

his companion. At last the physician fell down on the sward as if

insensible. Gilles looked calmly on to see the end. After a few minutes

the physician arose, and asked him if he had not seen how angry the

devil looked? Gilles replied, that he had seen nothing; upon which his

companion informed him that Beelzebub had appeared in the form of a wild

leopard, growled at him savagely, and said nothing; and that the reason

why the Marshal had neither seen nor heard him, was that he hesitated

in his own mind as to devoting himself entirely to the service. De Rays

owned that he had indeed misgivings, and inquired what was to be done to

make the devil speak out, and unfold his secret? The physician replied,

that some person must go to Spain and Africa to collect certain herbs

which only grew in those countries, and offered to go himself, if De

Rays would provide the necessary funds. De Rays at once consented; and

the physician set out on the following day with all the gold that his

dupe could spare him. The Marshal never saw his face again.

But the eager Lord of Champtoce could not rest. Gold was necessary

for his pleasures; and unless, by supernatural aid, he had no means of

procuring many further supplies. The physician was hardly twenty leagues

on his journey, before Gilles resolved to make another effort to force

the devil to divulge the art of gold making. He went out alone for

that purpose, but all his conjurations were of no effect. Beelzebub was

obstinate, and would not appear. Determined to conquer him if he could,

he unbosomed himself to the Italian alchymist, Prelati. The latter

offered to undertake the business, upon condition that De Rays did not

interfere in the conjurations, and consented besides to furnish him with

all the charms and talismans that might be required. He was further to

open a vein in his arm, and sign with his blood a contract that he would

work the devil's will in all things, and offer up to him a sacrifice of

the heart, lungs, hands, eyes, and blood of a young child. The grasping

monomaniac made no hesitation; but agreed at once to the disgusting

terms proposed to him. On the following night, Prelati went out alone;

and after having been absent for three or four hours, returned to

Gilles, who sat anxiously awaiting him. Prelati then informed him that

he had seen the devil in the shape of a handsome youth of twenty. He

further said, that the devil desired to be called Barron in all future

invocations; and had shown him a great number of ingots of pure gold,

buried under a large oak in the neighbouring forest, all of which, and

as many more as he desired, should become the property of the Marechal

de Rays if he remained firm, and broke no condition of the contract.

Prelati further showed him a small casket of black dust, which would

turn iron into gold; but as the process was very troublesome, he advised

that they should be contented with the ingots they found under the

oak tree, and which would more than supply all the wants that the most

extravagant imagination could desire. They were not, however, to attempt

to look for the gold till a period of seven times seven weeks, or

they would find nothing but slates and stones for their pains. Gilles

expressed the utmost chagrin and disappointment, and at once said that

he could not wait for so long a period; if the devil were not more

prompt, Prelati might tell him, that the Marechal de Rays was not to

be trifled with, and would decline all further communication with him.

Prelati at last persuaded him to wait seven times seven days. They then

went at midnight with picks and shovels to dig up the ground under the

oak, where they found nothing to reward them but a great quantity of

slates, marked with hieroglyphics. It was now Prelati's turn to be

angry; and he loudly swore that the devil was nothing but a liar and

a cheat. The Marshal joined cordially in the opinion, but was easily

persuaded by the cunning Italian to make one more trial. He promised

at the same time that he would endeavour, on the following night, to

discover the reason why the devil had broken his word. He went out alone

accordingly, and on his return informed his patron that he had seen

Barron, who was exceedingly angry that they had not waited the proper

time ere they looked for the ingots. Barron had also said, that the

Marechal de Rays could hardly expect any favours from him, at a time

when he must know that he had been meditating a pilgrimage to the Holy

Land, to make atonement for his sins. The Italian had doubtless surmised

this, from some incautious expression of his patron, for De Rays frankly

confessed that there were times when, sick of the world and all its

pomps and vanities, he thought of devoting himself to the service of

God.

In this manner the Italian lured on from month to month his credulous

and guilty patron, extracting from him all the valuables he possessed,

and only waiting a favourable opportunity to decamp with his plunder.

But the day of retribution was at hand for both. Young girls and boys

continued to disappear in the most mysterious manner; and the rumours

against the owner of Champtoce grew so loud and distinct, that the

Church was compelled to interfere. Representations were made by the

Bishop of Nantes to the Duke of Brittany, that it would be a public

scandal if the accusations against the Marechal de Rays were not

inquired into. He was arrested accordingly in his own castle, along with

his accomplice Prelati, and thrown into a dungeon at Nantes to await his

trial.

The judges appointed to try him were the Bishop of Nantes Chancellor

of Brittany, the Vicar of the Inquisition in France, and the celebrated

Pierre l'Hopital, the President of the Provincial Parliament. The

offences laid to his charge were sorcery, sodomy, and murder. Gilles, on

the first day of his trial, conducted himself with the utmost insolence.

He braved the judges on the judgment seat, calling them simoniacs and

persons of impure life, and said he would rather be hanged by the neck

like a dog without trial, than plead either guilty or not guilty to such

contemptible miscreants. But his confidence forsook him as the trial

proceeded, and he was found guilty on the clearest evidence of all the

crimes laid to his charge. It was proved that he took insane pleasure

in stabbing the victims of his lust, and in observing the quivering of

their flesh, and the fading lustre of their eyes as they expired. The

confession of Prelati first made the judges acquainted with this horrid

madness, and Gilles himself confirmed it before his death. Nearly a

hundred children of the villagers around his two castles of Champtoce

and Machecoue, had been missed within three years the greater part,

if not all, of whom were immolated to the lust or the cupidity of this

monster. He imagined that he thus made the devil his friend, and that

his recompence would be the secret of the philosopher's stone.

Gilles and Prelati were both condemned to be burned alive. At the place

of execution they assumed the air of penitence and religion. Gilles

tenderly embraced Prelati, saying, "Farewell, friend Francis! In this

world we shall never meet again; but let us place our hopes in God; we

shall see each other in Paradise." Out of consideration for his

high rank and connections, the punishment of the Marshal was so far

mitigated, that he was not burned alive like Prelati. He was first

strangled, and then thrown into the flames: his body, when half

consumed, was given over to his relatives for interment; while that of

the Italian was burned to ashes, and then scattered in the winds. [For

full details of this extraordinary trial, see "Lobineau's Nouvelle

Histoire de Bretagne;" and D'Argentre's work on the same subject.]

JACQUES COEUR.

This remarkable pretender to the secret of the philosopher's stone, was

contemporary with the last mentioned. He was a great personage at the

court of Charles VII, and in the events of his reign played a prominent

part. From a very humble origin he rose to the highest honours of the

state, and amassed enormous wealth, by peculation and the plunder of the

country which he should have served. It was to hide his delinquencies

in this respect, and to divert attention from the real source of his

riches, that he boasted of having discovered the art of transmuting the

inferior metals into gold and silver.

His father was a goldsmith in the city of Bourges; but so reduced in

circumstances towards the latter years of his life, that he was unable

to pay the necessary fees to procure his son's admission into the guild.

Young Jacques became, however, a workman in the Royal Mint of Bourges,

in 1428, and behaved himself so well, and showed so much knowledge of

metallurgy, that he attained rapid promotion in that establishment. He

had also the good fortune to make the acquaintance of the fair Agnes

Sorel, by whom he was patronized and much esteemed. Jacques had now

three things in his favour--ability, perseverance, and the countenance

of the King's mistress. Many a man succeeds with but one of these to

help him forward: and it would have been strange indeed, if Jacques

Coeur, who had them all, should have languished in obscurity. While

still a young man he was made Master of the Mint, in which he had been

a journeyman, and installed at the same time into the vacant office of

Grand Treasurer of the royal household.

He possessed an extensive knowledge of finance, and turned it

wonderfully to his own advantage as soon as he became intrusted with

extensive funds. He speculated in articles of the first necessity, and

made himself very unpopular by buying up grain, honey, wines, and other

produce, till there was a scarcity, when he sold it again at enormous

profit. Strong in the royal favour, he did not hesitate to oppress the

poor by continual acts of forestalling and monopoly. As there is no

enemy so bitter as the estranged friend, so of all the tyrants and

tramplers upon the poor, there is none so fierce and reckless as the

upstart that sprang from their ranks. The offensive pride of Jacques

Coeur to his inferiors was the theme of indignant reproach in his own

city, and his cringing humility to those above him was as much an object

of contempt to the aristocrats into whose society he thrust himself. But

Jacques did not care for the former, and to the latter he was blind. He

continued his career till he became the richest man in France, and so

useful to the King that no important enterprise was set on foot until he

had been consulted. He was sent in 1446 on an embassy to Genoa, and

in the following year to Pope Nicholas V. In both these missions he

acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his sovereign, and was rewarded

with a lucrative appointment, in addition to those which he already

held.

In the year 1449, the English in Normandy, deprived of their great

general, the Duke of Bedford, broke the truce with the French King, and

took possession of a small town belonging to the Duke of Brittany. This

was the signal for the recommencemerit of a war, in which the French

regained possession of nearly the whole province. The money for this war

was advanced, for the most part, by Jacques Coeur. When Rouen yielded

to the French, and Charles made his triumphal entry into that city,

accompanied by Dunois and his most famous generals, Jacques was among

the most brilliant of his cortege. His chariot and horses vied with

those of the King in the magnificence of their trappings; and his

enemies said of him that he publicly boasted that he alone had driven

out the English, and that the valour of the troops would would have been

nothing without his gold.

Dunois appears, also, to have been partly of the same opinion. Without

disparaging the courage of the army, he acknowledged the utility of

the able financier, by whose means they had been fed and paid, and

constantly afforded him his powerful protection.

When peace returned, Jacques again devoted himself to commerce, and

fitted up several galleys to trade with the Genoese. He also bought

large estates in various parts of France; the chief of which were the

baronies of St. Fargeau, Meneton, Salone, Maubranche, Meaune, St. Gerant

de Vaux, and St. Aon de Boissy; the earldoms or counties of La Palisse,

Champignelle, Beaumont, and Villeneuve la Genet, and the marquisate

of Toucy. He also procured for his son, Jean Coeur, who had chosen the

Church for his profession, a post no less distinguished than that of

Archbishop of Bourges.

Everybody said that so much wealth could not have been honestly

acquired; and both rich and poor longed for the day that should humble

the pride of the man, whom the one class regarded as an upstart and the

other as an oppressor. Jacques was somewhat alarmed at the rumours that

were afloat respecting him, and of dark hints that he had debased the

coin of the realm and forged the King's seal to an important document,

by which he had defrauded the state of very considerable sums. To

silence these rumours, he invited many alchymists from foreign countries

to reside with him, and circulated a counter-rumour, that he had

discovered the secret of the philosopher's stone. He also built a

magnificent house in his native city, over the entrance of which

he caused to be sculptured the emblems of that science. Some time

afterwards, he built another, no less splendid, at Montpellier, which

he inscribed in a similar manner. He also wrote a treatise upon the

hermetic philosophy, in which he pretended that he knew the secret of

transmuting metals.

But all these attempts to disguise his numerous acts of peculation

proved unavailing; and he was arrested in 1452, and brought to trial on

several charges. Upon one only, which the malice of his enemies invented

to ruin him, was he acquitted; which was, that he had been accessory

to the death, by poison, of his kind patroness, Agnes Sorel. Upon the

others, he was found guilty; and sentenced to be banished the kingdom,

and to pay the enormous fine of four hundred thousand crowns. It was

proved that he had forged the King's seal; that, in his capacity of

Master of the Mint of Bourges, he had debased, to a very great extent,

the gold and silver coin of the realm; and that he had not hesitated

to supply the Turks with arms and money to enable them to carry on war

against their Christian neighbours, for which service he had received

the most munificent recompences. Charles VII. was deeply grieved at

his condemnation, and believed to the last that he was innocent. By his

means the fine was reduced within a sum which Jacques Coeur could pay.

After remaining for some time in prison, he was liberated, and left

France with a large sum of money, part of which, it was alleged, was

secretly paid him by Charles out of the produce of his confiscated

estates. He retired to Cyprus, where he died about 1460, the richest and

most conspicuous personage of the island.

The writers upon alchymy all claim Jacques Coeur as a member of

their fraternity, and treat as false and libellous the more rational

explanation of his wealth which the records of his trial afford. Pierre

Borel, in his "Antiquites Gauloises," maintains the opinion that Jacques

was an honest man, and that he made his gold out of lead and copper by

means of the philosopher's stone. The alchymic adepts in general were

of the same opinion; but they found it difficult to persuade even his

contemporaries of the fact. Posterity is still less likely to believe

it.

INFERIOR ADEPTS OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES.

Many other pretenders to the secrets of the philosopher's stone

appeared in every country in Europe, during the fourteenth and fifteenth

centuries. The possibility of transmutation was so generally admitted,

that every chemist was more or less an alchymist. Germany, Holland,

Italy, Spain, Poland, France, and England produced thousands of obscure

adepts, who supported themselves, in the pursuit of their chimera, by

the more profitable resources of astrology and divination. The monarchs

of Europe were no less persuaded than their subjects of the possibility

of discovering the philosopher's stone. Henry VI. and Edward IV.

of England encouraged alchymy. In Germany, the Emperors Maximilian,

Rodolph, and Frederic II. devoted much of their attention to it; and

every inferior potentate within their dominions imitated their example.

It was a common practice in Germany, among the nobles and petty

sovereigns, to invite an alchymist to take up his residence among them,

that they might confine him in a dungeon till he made gold enough to

pay millions for his ransom. Many poor wretches suffered perpetual

imprisonment in consequence. A similar fate appears to have been

intended by Edward II. for Raymond Lulli, who, upon the pretence that he

was thereby honoured, was accommodated with apartments in the Tower of

London. He found out in time the trick that was about to be played him,

and managed to make his escape, some of his biographers say, by jumping

into the Thames, and swimming to a vessel that lay waiting to receive him.

In the sixteenth century, the same system was pursued, as will be shown

more fully in the life of Seton the Cosmopolite, in the succeeding

chapter.

The following is a catalogue of the chief authors upon alchymy, who

flourished during this epoch, and whose lives and adventures are either

unknown or are unworthy of more detailed notice. John Dowston, an

Englishman, lived in 1315, and wrote two treatises on the philosopher's

stone. Richard, or, as some call him, Robert, also an Englishman, lived

in 1330, and wrote a work entitled "Correctorium Alchymiae," which was

much esteemed till the time of Paracelsus. In the same year lived Peter

of Lombardy, who wrote what he called a "Complete Treatise upon the

Hermetic Science," an abridgement of which was afterwards published by

Lacini, a monk of Calabria. In 1330 the most famous alchymist of Paris

was one Odomare, whose work "De Practica Magistri" was, for a long time,

a hand-book among the brethren of the science. John de Rupecissa,

a French monk of the order of St. Francis, flourished in 1357,

and pretended to be a prophet as well as an alchymist. Some of his

prophecies were so disagreeable to Pope Innocent VI, that the Pontiff

determined to put a stop to them, by locking up the prophet in the

dungeons of the Vatican. It is generally believed that he died there,

though there is no evidence of the fact. His chief works are the "Book

of Light," the "Five Essences," the "Heaven of Philosophers," and his

grand work "De Confectione Lapidis." He was not thought a shining light

among the adepts. Ortholani was another pretender, of whom nothing is

known, but that he exercised the arts of alchymy and astrology at Paris,

shortly before the time of Nicholas Flamel. His work on the practice of

alchymy was written in that city in 1358. Isaac of Holland wrote, it

is supposed, about this time; and his son also devoted himself to the

science. Nothing worth repeating is known of their lives. Boerhaave

speaks with commendation of many passages in their works, and Paracelsus

esteemed them highly: the chief are "De Triplici Ordine Elixiris et

Lapidis Theoria," printed at Berne in 1608; and "Mineralia Opera, seu

de Lapide Philosophico," printed at Middleburg in 1600. They also wrote

eight other works upon the same subject. Koffstky, a Pole, wrote an

alchymical treatise, entitled "The Tincture of Minerals," about the

year 1488. In this list of authors a royal name must not be forgotten.

Charles VI. of France, one of the most credulous princes of the day,

whose court absolutely swarmed with alchymists, conjurers, astrologers,

and quacks of every description, made several attempts to discover

the philosopher's stone, and thought he knew so much about it, that

he determined to enlighten the world with a treatise. It is called the

"Royal Work of Charles VI. of France, and the Treasure of Philosophy."

It is said to be the original from which Nicholas Flamel took the idea

of his "Desir Desire." Lenglet du Fresnoy says it is very allegorical,

and utterly incomprehensible. For a more complete list of the hermetic

philosophers of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the reader is

referred to the third volume of Lenglet's History already quoted.