by Thomas Vaughan (Eugenius Philalethes)

Thomas Vaughan (1621–1666), the Welsh Hermetic philosopher writing as Eugenius Philalethes, published Aula Lucis in 1652 — his sixth treatise and a discourse on the nature of Light, the secret fire hidden at the centre of creation, and the physical work of the Rosicrucian Brotherhood. It was written during the most productive period of his short life, between the publication of Lumen de Lumine and his final work Euphrates.

The treatise is dedicated to Vaughan's mysterious patron "Seleucus Abantiades" — a pseudonym whose identity remains unknown — and opens with a fiery preface defending the tradition of occult philosophy against its critics. The main body discourse moves from the nature of first matter and the philosopher's Mercury through a remarkable excursus on the Brahmins of India and their magical college, drawn from Philostratus' Life of Apollonius of Tyana. The text includes a substantial section on the Fraternity of the Rosy Cross and their "Physical Work," connecting Rosicrucian doctrine to the practical art of transmutation, and concludes with a "Short Advertisement to the Reader" offering cryptic guidance on the alchemical second work.

This text follows the 1919 collected edition prepared by Arthur Edward Waite for the Theosophical Publishing House, London. Waite's editorial footnotes and Latin annotations have been removed to present Vaughan's prose as he wrote it. The original was first published in London in 1652.

Epistle Dedicatory

To My Best and Noblest Friend, Seleucus Abantiades

WHAT you are I need not tell you : what I am you know already. Our acquaintance began with my childhood, and now you see what you have purchased. I can partly refer my inclinations to yourself, and those only which I derive from the contemplative order ; for the rest are beside your influence. I here present you with the fruits of them, that you may see my light hath water to play withal. Hence it is that I move in the sphere of generation and fall short of that test of Heraclitus : " Dry light is best soul." I need not expound this to you, for you are in the centre and see it. Howsoever, you may excuse me if I prefer conceptions to fancies. I could never affect anything that was barren, for sterility and love are inconsistent. Give me a knowledge that's fertile in performances, for theories without their effects are but nothings in the dress of things. How true this is you can tell me ; and if I but recite what is your own you must not therefore undervalue it, it being in some sense a sacrifice ; for men have nothing to give but what they receive. Suffer me then at the present to stand your censer and exhale that incense which your own hands have put in. I dare not say here is revelation, nor can I boast with the prodigious artist you read of that I have lived three years " in the realm of light." It is enough that I have light, as the King of Persia had his Bride of the Sun ; and truly, I think it happiness to have seen that candle lodged which our fathers judged to be wandering light, seeking habitation. But I grow absurd : I speak as if I would instruct you ; and now — methinks — you ask me : Who readeth this ? It is I, Sir, that read the tactics here to Hannibal and teach him to break rocks with vinacre. I am indeed somewhat pedantic in this, but the liberty you are still pleased to allow me hath carried me beyond my cue. It is a trespass you know that's very ordinary with me and some junior colleagues. Nor can I omit those verses which you have been sometimes pleased to apply to this forwardness of mine.

Such was the steed in Grecian poets famed, Proud Cyllarus, by Spartan Pollux tamed ; Such coursers bore to fight the god of Thrace And such, Achilles, was thy warlike race. It is my opinion, Sir, that truth cannot be urged with too much spirit, so that I have not sinned here as to the thing itself, for the danger's only in your person. I am afraid my boldness hath been such I may be thought to fall short of that reverence which I owe you. This is it indeed which I dare call a sin, and I am so far from it that it is my private wonder how I came to think it. Suffer me then to be impertinent for once and give me leave to repent of an humour which I am confident you place not amongst my faults but amongst your own indulgences.

Your humble servant,

S. N.

FROM HELIOPOLIS. 1651.

To the Present Readers

IT will be questioned perhaps by the envious to what purpose these sheets are prostituted, and especially that drug wrapped in them — the Philosopher's Stone. To these it is answered by Solomon : " There is a time to cast away stones." And truly — I must confess — I cast away this Stone, for I misplace it. I contribute that to the fabric which the builders in all ages have refused. But lest I seem to act sine proposito, I must tell you I do it not for this generation, for they are as far from fire as the author is from smoke. Understand me if you can, for I have told you an honest truth. I write books, as the old Roman planted trees, for the glory of God and the benefit of posterity. It is my design to make over my reputation to a better age, for in this I would not enjoy it, because I know not any from whom I would receive it. And here you see how ambitious I am grown ; but if you judge the humour amiss tell me not of it, lest I should laugh at you. I look indeed a step further than your lives, and if you think I may die before you I would have you know it is the way to go beyond you.

To be short : if you attempt this discourse, you do it without my advice, for it is not fitted to your fortunes. There is a white magic this book is enchanted withal : it is an adventure for Knights of the Sun, and the errants of this time may not finish it. I speak this to the university Quixotes, and to those only who are ill-disposed as well as indisciplined. There is amongst them a generation of wasps, things that will fight though never provoked. These buckle on their logic as proof, but it fares with them as with the famous Don : they mistake a basin for a helmet. For mine own part I am no reformer ; I can well enough tolerate their positions, for they do not trouble mine. What I write is no rule for them ; it is a legacy deferred to posterity ; for the future times, wearied with the vanities of the present, will perhaps seek after the truth and gladly entertain it. Thus you see what readers I have predestined for myself ; but if any present Mastix fastens on this discourse I wish him not to traduce it, lest I should whip him for it. This is my advice, which if it be well observed, 'tis possible I may communicate more of this nature. I may stand up like a Pharus in a dark night and hold out that lamp which Philalethes hath overcast with that envious phrase of the Rabbins : " Ofttimes the silence of wisdom."

I observe that in their delivery of mysteries they have, as in all things else, imitated Nature, who dispenseth not her light without her shadows. They have provided a veil for their art, not so much for obscurity as ornament : and yet I cannot deny that some of them have rather buried the truth than dressed it. For my own part, I shall observe a mean way, neither too obscure nor too open, but such as may serve posterity and add some splendour to the science itself.

And now, whosoever thou art that in times to come shall cast thine eyes on this book, if thou art corrupted with the common philosophy, do not presently rage and take up the pen in defiance of what is here written. It may be thou hast studied thy three questions pro forma and a quick disputant thou art. But hast thou concocted the whole body of philosophy ? Hast thou made Nature the only business of thy life ? And hast thou arrived at last to an infallible experimental knowledge ? If none of these things, upon what foundation dost thou build ? It is mere quacking to oppose the dead and such perhaps as thy betters durst not attempt in time of life. But as one said : that advantage breeds baseness. So some may insult because their adversary is out of the way, and tell me with that friendly stoic : " Dost thou not hear this, Amphiarus, you who are hidden under the earth ? "

If any such tares spring above ground, when I am under it, I have already looked upon them as an idle, contemptible bundle. I have prepared them a convenient destiny and by my present scorn annihilated their future malice. It is a better and more serious generation I would be serviceable unto, a generation that seeks Nature in the simplicity thereof and follows her not only with the tongue but with the hand. If thou art such then as this character speaks, let me advise thee not to despair. Give me leave also to affirm unto thee, and that on my soul, that the consequences and treasures of this art are such and so great that thy best and highest wishes are far short of them. Read then with diligence what I shall write, and to thy diligence add patience, to thy patience hope ; for I tell thee neither fables nor follies.

For thee old stores of fame and power I steal,
And holy springs audaciously unseal. I tell thee a truth as ancient as the fundamentals of the world ; and now, lest my preface should exceed in relation to the discourse itself, which must be but short, I will quit this out-work, that I may bring thee within doors ; and here will I shew thee the throne of light and the crystalline court thereof.

Light originally had no other birth than manifestation, for it was not made but discovered. It is properly the life of every thing, and it is that which acts in all particulars ; but the communion thereof with the First Matter was celebrated by a general contract before any particulars were made. The matter of itself was a passive thin substance but apt to retain light, as smoke is to retain flame. After impregnation it was condensed to a crystalline moisture, unctuous and fiery, of nature hermaphroditical, and this in a double sense, in relation to a double centre — celestial and terrestrial. From the terrestrial centre proceeded the earthly Venus, which is fiery and masculine, and the earthly Mercury, which is watery and feminine ; and these two are one against the other. From the celestial centre proceeded two living images, namely, a white and a red light ; and the white light settled in the water but the red went into the earth. Hence you may gather some infallible signs, whereby you may direct yourselves in the knowledge of the Matter and in the operation itself, when the Matter is known. For if you have the true sperm and know withal how to prepare it — which cannot be without our secret fire — you shall find that the matter no sooner feels the philosophical heat but the white light will lift himself above the water, and there will he swim in his glorious blue vestment like the heavens.

But that I may speak something more concerning the chaos itself, I must tell you it is not rain-water nor dew, but it is a subtle mineral moisture, a water so extremely thin and spiritual, with such a transcendent, incredible brightness, there is not in all Nature any liquor like it but itself. In plain terms, it is the middle substance of the wise men's Mercury, a water that is coagulable and may be hardened by a proper heat into stones and metals. Hence it was that the philosophers called it their Stone, or if it be lawful for me to reveal that which the devil out of envy would not discover to Illardus, I say they called it a Stone, to the end that no man might know what it was they called so. For there is nothing in the world so remote from the complexion of a stone, for it is water and no stone. Now what water it is I have told you already, and for your better instruction I shall tell you more : it is a water made by Nature, not extracted by the hands of man. Nor is it mere water but a spermatic, viscous composition of water, earth, air and fire. All these four natures unite in one crystalline, coagulable mass, in the form or appearance of water ; and therefore I told you it was a water made by Nature. But if you ask me how Nature may be said to make any such water, I shall instruct you by an example that's obvious. Earth and water are the only materials whereupon Nature works, for these two, being passive, are compassed about with the active superior bodies, namely, with the air, heaven, sun and stars. Thus do they stand in the very fire, at least under the beams and ejaculations thereof, so that the earth is subject to a continual torrefaction and the water to a continual coction. Hence it comes to pass that we are perpetually overcast with clouds, and this by a physical extraction or sublimation of water, which Nature herself distils and rains down upon the earth. Now this water, though of a different complexion from the philosopher's mineral water, yet hath it many circumstances that well deserve our observation. I shall not insist long upon any : I will only give you one or two instances and then return to my subject. First of all then, you are to consider that Nature distils not beyond the body, as the chemist doth in the recipient. She draws the water up from the earth, and to the same earth doth she return it ; and hence it is that she generates by circular and reasonable imbibitions. Secondly, you must observe that she prepares her moisture before she imbibes the body therewith, and that by a most admirable preparation. Her method in this point is very obvious and open to all the world, so that if men were not blind I need not much to speak of it. Her water — we see — she rarefies into clouds, and by this means doth she rack and tenter-stretch the body, so that all the parts thereof are exposed to a searching, spiritual purgatory of wind and fire. For her wind passeth quite through the clouds and cleanseth them ; and when they are well cleansed then comes Nature in with her fire and fixeth it in ente jure sapphirico.

But this is not all. There are other circumstances, which Nature useth above ground, in order to her vegetables. And now I would speak of her subterraneous preparations, in order to her minerals : but that it is not lawful for me, as it was for the poet — "To discover things hidden in deep earth and fire." However, I shall not fail to tell thee a considerable truth, whosoever thou art that studiest this difficult science. The preparation of our animal and mineral sperm — I speak of the true preparation — is a secret upon which God hath laid His seal, and thou mayst not find it in books, for it was never entirely written. Thy best course is to consider the way of Nature, for there it may be found, but not without reiterated, deep and searching meditations. If this attempt fails thee, thou must pray for it, not that I hold it an easy or a common thing to attain to revelations, for we have none in England ; but God may discover it to thee by some ordinary and mere natural means. In a word, if thou canst not attain to it in this life, yet shalt thou know it in thy own body, when thou art past knowing of it in this subject. But because I will not deprive thee of those helps which I may lawfully communicate, I tell thee that our preparation is a purgation. Yet do not we purge by common, ridiculous sublimations or the more foolish filtrations, but by a secret, tangible, natural fire ; and he that knows this fire, and how to wash with it, knows the key of our Art, even our hidden Saturn, and the stupendous, infernal lavatory of Nature. Much more could I say concerning this fire and the proprieties thereof, it being one of the highest mysteries of the creation, a subject questionless wherein I might be voluminous, and all the way mysterious, for it relates to the greatest effects of magic, being the first male of the Mercury and almost his mother. Consider then the generation of our Mercury and how he is made, for here lies the ground of all our secrets. It is plain that outwardly we see nothing but what is gross — for example, earth, water, metals, stones and, amongst the better creatures, man himself. All these things have a lumpish, ineffectual outside, but inwardly they are full of a subtle, vital limosity, impregnated with fire ; and this Nature makes use of in generations, wherefore we call it the sperm. For instance sake, we know the body of man is not his sperm, but the sperm is a subtle extraction taken out of his body. Even so in the great world, the body or fabric itself is not the seed. It is not earth, air, fire or water ; for these four — if they were put together — would be still four bodies of different forms and complexions. The seed then, or first matter, is a certain limosity extracted from these four, for every one of them contributes from its very centre a thin, slimy substance ; and of their several slimes Nature makes the sperm by an ineffable union and mixture. This mixture and composition of slimy principles is that mass which we call the first matter. It is the minera of man, whereof God made him : in a double image did He make him in the day that he became a living soul. Hence a famous artist, speaking of the creation of Adam and alluding to the first matter, delivers himself in these terms : " From the limosity of the elements did God create Adam, namely, from the limosity of earth, water, air and fire ; and He gave unto him life from the Sun of the Holy Spirit, and from light, clarity and the light of the world." Have a care then that you mistake not any specified body for the sperm: beware of quicksilver, antimony and all the metals ; and have nothing to do with aught that is extracted from metals. Beware of salts, vitriols and every minor mineral. Beware of animals and vegetables, and of everything that is particular, or takes place in the classis of any known species. The first matter is a miraculous substance, one of which you may affirm contraries without inconvenience. It is very weak and yet most strong ; it is excessively soft and yet there is nothing so hard ; it is one and all, spirit and body, fixed and volatile, male and female, visible and invisible. It is fire and burns not ; it is water and wets not ; it is earth that runs and air that stands still. In a word, it is Mercury, the laughter of fools and the wonder of the wise, nor hath God made anything that is like him. He is born in the world, but was extant before the world ; and hence that excellent riddle which he hath somewhere proposed of himself : " I dwell " — saith he — " in the mountains and in the plains, a father before I was a "son. I generated my mother, and my mother, carrying me in her womb, generated me, having no use for a nurse." This is that substance which at present is the child of the sun and moon ; but originally both his parents came out of his belly. He is placed between two fires, and therefore is ever restless. He grows out of the earth as all vegetables do, and in the darkest night that is receives a light from the stars, and retains it. He is attractive at the first because of his horrible emptiness, and what he draws down is a prisoner for ever. He hath in him a thick fire, by which he captivates the thin ; and he is both artist and matter to himself. In his first appearance he is neither earth nor water, neither solid nor fluid, but a substance without all form but what is universal. He is visible but of no certain colour, for chameleon-like he put on all colours, and there is nothing in the world hath the same figure with him. When he is purged from his accidents, he is a water coloured with fire, deep to the sight and — as it were — swollen ; and he hath something in him that resembles a commotion. In a vapourous heat he opens his belly and discovers an azure heaven tinged with a milky light. Within this heaven he hides a little sun, a most powerful red fire, sparkling like a carbuncle, which is the red gold of the wise men. These are the treasures of our sealed fountain, and though many desire them yet none enters here but he that knows the key, and withal how to use it. In the bottom of this well lies an old dragon, stretched along and fast asleep. Awake her if you can, and make her drink ; for by this means she will recover her youth and be serviceable to you for ever. In a word, separate the eagle from the green lion ; then clip his wings, and you have performed a miracle. But these, you'll say, are blind terms, and no man knows what to make of them. True indeed, but they are such as are received from the philosophers. Howsoever, that I may deal plainly with you, the eagle is the water, for it is volatile and flies up in clouds, as an eagle doth ; but I speak not of any common water whatsoever. The green lion is the body, or magical earth, with which you must clip the wings of the eagle ; that is to say, you must fix her, so that she may fly no more. By this we understand the opening and shutting of the chaos, and secret fire, wherein consists the whole mystery of the preparation. Our fire then is a natural fire ; it is vapourous, subtle and piercing ; it is that which works all in all, if we look on physical digestions ; nor is there anything in the world that answers to the stomach and performs the effects thereof but this one thing. It is a substance of propriety solar and therefore sulphureous. It is prepared, as the philosophers tell us, from the old dragon, and in plain terms it is the fume of Mercury — not crude but cocted. This fume utterly destroys the first form of gold, introducing a second and more noble one. By Mercury I understand not quicksilver but Saturn philosophical, which devours the Moon and keeps her always in his belly. By gold I mean our spermatic, green gold — not the adored lump, which is dead and ineffectual. It were well certainly for the students of this noble Art if they resolved on some general positions before they attempted the books of the philosophers. truths, and they will serve them for so many rules whereby they may censure and examine their authors. First, that the first matter of the Stone is the very same with the first matter of all things ; secondly, that in this matter all the essential principles or ingredients of the- Elixir are already shut up by Nature, and that we must not presume to add anything to this matter but what we have formerly drawn out of it ; for the Stone excludes all extractions but what distil immediately from its own crystalline, universal minera ; thirdly and lastly, that the philosophers have their peculiar secret metals, quite different from the metals of the vulgar, for where they name Mercury they mind not quicksilver, where Saturn not lead, where Venus and Mars not copper and iron, and where Sol or Luna not gold or silver. This Stone verily is not made of common gold and silver, but it is made, as one delivers it, " of gold smell sweetly ; of green, living gold and silver to be found everywhere but known of very few." Away then with those mountebanks who tell you of antimony, salts, vitriols, marcasites, or any mineral whatsoever. Away also with such authors as prescribe or practise upon any of these bodies. You may be sure they were mere cheats and did write only to gain an opinion of knowledge. There are indeed some uncharitable but knowing Christians who stick not to lead the blind out of his way. These are full of elaborate, studied deceits, and one of them who pretends to the Spirit of God hath at the same mouth vented a slippery spirit, namely, that the Stone cannot be opened through all the grounds — as he calls them — under seven years. Truly I am of opinion that he never knew the Stone in this natural world ; but how well acquainted he was with the tinctures in the spiritual world I will not determine. I must confess many brave and sublime truths have fallen from his pen ; but when he descends from his inspirations and stoops to a physical practice, he is quite beside the butt. if you question — I can produce it in these few words :: "The sublime, blessed and glorious God of natures.'* This is the title and the style he always bestows upon God, and it is enough to prove him no atheist. He, I say, hath so freely and in truth so plainly discussed this secret that had he not mixed his many impertinences with it he had directly prostituted the mysteries. What I speak is apparent to all knowing artists, and hence it is that most masters have so honoured this Arabian that in their books indeed more beholden to this prince — who did not know Christ — than to many professed Christians, for they have not only concealed the truth but they have published falsities and mere inconsistencies therewith. They have studiously and of mere purpose deceived the world, without any respect of their credit or conscience. It is a great question who was most envious, the devil in his Recipe to our Oxford doctor or Arnoldus in his Accipe to the King of Arragon. I know well enough what that gentleman de Villa Nova prescribes, and I know withal his instructions are so difficult that Count Trevor, when he was adept suo modo, could not understand them. For he hath written most egregious nonsense, and this by endeavouring to confute greater mysteries than he did apprehend. Now, if any man thinks me too bold for censuring so great an artist as Arnoldus was, I am not so empty but I can reason for myself. I charge him not with want of knowledge but want of charity — a point wherein even the possessors of the Philosopher's Stone are commonly poor. I speak this because I pity the distractions of our modern alchemists, though Philalethes laughs in his sleeve and, like a young colt, kicks at that name. without a master, for though you know the Matter yet are you far short of the Medicine. This is a truth you take it upon Raymund Lully's experience. He knew the Matter, it being the first thing his master taught him. Then he practised upon it, in his own phrase, after many and multifarious modes, but all to no purpose. He had the Cabinet but not the Key. At last he found himself to be — what many doctors are, — a confident quack, a broiler and nothing more — as it appears by his subsequent confession. " The Masters assure us in their goodness that the Great Work is one of solution and congelation, the same being performed by the circulatory way ; but through ignorance hereupon many who were sound in scholarship have been deceived regarding the mastery. In their excess of confidence they assumed themselves to be proficients in the form and mode of circulation, and it is not our intent to conceal that we ourselves were of those who were stricken in this respect. With such presumption and temerity we took our understanding of this science for granted, yet we grasped it in no wise, till we came to be taught of the spirit by the mediation of Master Arnold de Villa Nova, who effectually imparted it unto us out of his great bounty." watch at his lips because of some invisible gentlemen that overhear. I myself have known some men to affirm they had seen and done such things which God and Nature cannot do, according to the present laws of creation. But had my young friend Eugenius Philalethes been present he had laughed without mercy. Take heed then are something like the immortals : instructed in these secrets, but in this they are confidently mistaken. He must be a known, true friend, a friend of years, not of days ; not a complimental thing, whose action is all hypocrite ; not a severe dissembler, who gives thee fair words but — if once tried — his heart is so far from his promises that, like a fly in a box, it is scarce a part of his body. Raymund Lully hath in a certain place delivered himself handsomely in relation to the practice, and this for his friend's sake. But how rigid then was he in scriptis. His disciple — if he could understand him — was to be accountable to him in the use of the mystery ; and therefore he tells him plainly that he did it " by way of loan only, looking for restitution at the judgment day." We must not expect then to be instructed because we are acquainted, and verily acquaintance with such persons is a thing not common. In ordinary favours it is supposed that men should deserve them before they receive them ; but in this thing — which is a benefit incomparable — it falls out otherwise. We look for present discoveries ; we believe the philosophers will teach us. and in plain terms tell us all their Art ; but we know not wherefore they should be so kind unto us. Such impudent hopes have no more reason in them than if I should spend a compliment on a rich gentleman and then expect he should make me his heir in lieu of my phrase, and so pass his estate upon me. This is very absurd, but nothing more common ; though I know there is another sort of well-wishers, but they are most miserable, for they cast about to fool those men whom they know to be wiser than themselves. But in this many parts, and he that plots to over-reach them takes a course to break before he sets up. It remains then that we bestow our attempts on their books, and here we must consider the two universal natures, light and matter. of light. Here he dwells and builds for himself, and, to speak truth, he takes up his lodging in sight of all the world. When he first enters it, it is a glorious, transparent room, a crystal castle, and he lives like a familiar in diamonds. He hath then the liberty to look out at the windows ; his love is all in his sight : I mean that liquid Venus which lures him in ; but this continues not very long. He is busy — as all lovers are — labours for a more close union, insinuates and conveys himself into the very substance of his love, so that his heat and action stir up her moist essences, by whose means he becomes an absolute prisoner. For at last the earth grows over him out of the water, so that he is quite shut up in darkness ; and this is the secret of the eternal God, which He hath been pleased to reveal to some of His servants, though mortal man was never worthy of it. I wish it were lawful for me to enlarge myself in this point for religion's sake, but it is not safe nor convenient that all ears should hear even the mysteries of religion. This leprous earth — for such it is, if it be not purged — is the toad that eats up the eagle, or spirit, of which there is frequent mention in the philosopher's books. In this which we commonly call darkness. Truly they may as well bestow it on the water or the air, for it appears not in any one element but either in all four or else in two, and this last was that which deceived them. Now, the water hath no blackness at all but a majestic, large clarity. The earth likewise, in her own nature, is a glorious crystallised body, bright as the heavens. The air also excels both these in complexion, for he hath in him a most strange, inexpressible whiteness and serenity. As for the fire it is outwardly red and shining — like a jacinth —but inwardly in the spirit white as milk. purged and celified, yet when they stir and work for generation the black colour overspreads them all — and such a black — so deep and horrid — that no common darkness can be compared unto it. I desire to know then whence this tincture ariseth, for the root of every other colour is known. It is to be observed that in the separation of the elements this blackness appears not any, where but in that element which is under the fire ; and this only whiles you are drawing out the fire — for the fire being separated the body is white. It is plain then that darkness belongs to the fire, for in truth fire is the man of it ; and this is one of the greatest mysteries, both Divinity and philosophy. But those that would rightly understand it should first learn the difference between fire and light. a pleasing, gladsome light, but interminated. Afterwards appeared a horrible sad darkness, and this moved downwards, descending from the eye of the light, as if a cloud should come from the sun. This darkness — saith he — was condensed into a certain water, but not without mournful, inexpressible voice or sound, as the vapour saith that great philosopher — the Holy Word came out of the light and did get upon the water, and out of the water He made all things. Let it be your study then —who would know all things — to seek out this secret water, which hath in itself all things. This is the physical and famous Pythagorean cube, which surpriseth all forms, and retains them prisoners. "If anywise" — said my Capnion — " a form implanted in this ground remain thereon ; if it enters therein and doth abide in such solid receptacle, being laid up therein as in a material foundation ; it is not received at random nor indifferently but permanently and specially, becoming inseparable and incommunicable, as something added to the soil, made subject to time and to place, and deprived — so to speak — of its liberty in the bondage of matter." sad, and the steps that lead unto it, are most elegantly expressed in the oracles. " A steep descent extends beneath the earth, leading seven ways by stages, beneath which is the throne of a horrible necessity." substances — flow out of this well. Hence come our fortunes and our misfortunes, our riches and our poverty, and this according to the scales of the Supreme Agent, in his dispensations of light and darkness. We see there is a certain face of light in all those things which are very dear or very precious to us. For example, in beauty, gold, silver, pearls, and in everything that is pleasant or things I say there is inherent a certain secret, concomitant lustre, and whiles they last the possessors also are subject to a clearness and serenity of mind. On the contrary, in all adversity there is a certain corroding, heavy sadness, for the spirit grieves because he is eclipsed and overcast with darkness. We know well enough that poverty is but obscurity, and certainly in all disasters there is a kind of cloud, or something that answers to it. In people that are very unfortunate this darkness hath a character, and especially in the forehead there lieth a notable judgment ; but there are few who can read in such books. Of this Vergil — who was a great poet but a greater philosopher — was not ignorant, for describing Marcellus in the Elysian fields he makes his sad countenance an argument of his short life. discussed, and therefore I shall omit them. He that desires to be happy let him look after light, for it is the house thereof it may be found, and the house is not far off nor hard to find, for the light walks in before us and is the guide to his own habitation. It is the light that forms the gold and the ruby, the adamant and the silver, and he is the artist that shapes all things. He that hath him hath the mint of Nature and a treasure altogether inexhaustible. He is blest with the elect substance of heaven and earth, and in the opinion of the TURBA " deserves to be called blessed and is raised above the circle of the earth." Nor indeed without reason, for Nature herself dictates unto us and tells us that our happiness consists in light. Hence it is that we naturally love the light and rejoice in it, as a thing agreeable and beneficial unto us. On the contrary, we fear the darkness and are surprised in it with a certain horror and a timourous expectation of some hurt that may befall us. It is light then that we must look after, but of itself it is so thin and spiritual we cannot lay hands upon it and make it our possession. We cannot confine it to any one place, that it may no more rise and set with the sun. We cannot shut it up in a cabinet, that we may use it when we please, and in the dark night see a glorious illustration. We must look then for the mansion of light — that oily, ethereal substance that retains it — for by this means we may circumscribe and confine it. We may impart and communicate it to what bodies we please, give the basest things a most precious lustre and a complexion as lasting as the sun. This is that mystery which the philosophers have delivered hereunto in most envious and obscure terms ; and though I do not arrogate to myself a greater knowledge than some of them had, yet I do affirm — and that knowingly — that this secret was never communicated to the world in a discourse so plain and positive as this is. It is true this script is short, and the body of magic hath no proportion to these few lines. elemental, celestial and spiritual — was sometimes the design of one that was able to perform. But he — and it was ever the fortune of truth to be so served — was not only opposed but abused by a barbarous, malicious ignorant. I should think that gentleman did set up for Bartholomew Fair — he hath such contrivances in his Second Lash. The tutor dedicates to his pupil, and the same pupil versifies in commendation of his tutor. Here was a claw ; there was never any so reciprocal : surely Rosinante and Dapple might learn of these two. But this is stuff to stop our noses at : let us leave it for Cambridge, whence it first came. earth are the two greatest and most difficult operations of the Art, for these two are contrary keys : the water opens and the earth shuts. Be sure then to add nothing to the subject but what is of its own nature, for. when it is prepared it is all-sufficient. He coagulates himself and dissolves himself, and passeth all the colours — and this by virtue of its own inward sulphur or fire, which wants nothing but excitation, or, to speak plainly, a simple, natural coction. Everybody knows how to boil water in fire ; but if they knew how to boil fire in water their physic would reach beyond the kitchen. Study then and despair not ; but study no curiosities. It is a plain, straight path that Nature walks in ; and I call God to witness that I write not this to amaze men ; but I write 'that which I know to be certainly true. neither had this fallen from me but that it was a command imposed by my superiors, &C. They that desire experimental knowledge may study it as a sure guide ; but he that rests at his lips and puts not his philosophy into his hands needs not these instructions. Wifs Commonwealth or a Book of Apothegms may serve his turn. I prescribe not here for any but such as look after these principles ; and they must give me leave to inform them, if they be not perfect masters of the art. I am one that gives and takes, and this to avoid contentions. I can suffer the schoolman to follow his own placets, so he doth not hinder me to follow mine. In a word, I can tolerate men's errors and pity them. I can propound the truth, and if it be not followed, it is satisfaction to me that what I did was well done. command — but the same authorities recalled their commission ; and now being somewhat transformed I must — as some mysteriously have done — live a tree. Yet the wise know that groves have their durdals, and I remember I have read of an image whose Hie fodias placed the substance in the shadow. To be plain, I am silenced, and though it be in my power to speak, yet I have laws as to this subject which I must not transgress. I have chosen therefore to oppose my present freedom to my future necessity, and to speak something at this time which I must never publicly speak hereafter. There is no defect in aught that I have written, if I but tell you one thing which the philosophers have omitted. It is that which some authors have called " the Vessel of Nature and the Green Vessel of Saturn " ; and Miriam calls it the Vessel of Hermes. A menstruous substance it is ; and — to speak the very truth — it is the matrix of Nature, wherein you must place the universal sperm as soon as it appears beyond its body. The heat of this matrix is sulphureous, and it is that which coagulates the sperm ; but common fire — though it be most exactly regulated — will never do it ; and in this opinion see that you be not deceived. This matrix is the life of the sperm, for it preserves and quickens it ; but beyond the matrix it takes cold and dies, and nothing effectual can be generated thereof. In a word, nor bring it to a mineral complexion. And herein also there is a certain measure to be observed, without which you will miscarry in the practice. Of this natural vessel speaks Miriam in the following words : " The key of the science is in all bodies, but owing to the shortness of life and the length of the work the Stoics concealed this one only thing. They discovered tingeing elements, leaving instructions thereon, and these also the philosophers continue to teach, save only concerning the Vessel of Hermes, because the same is Divine, a thing hidden from the Gentiles by the wisdom of God ; and those who are ignorant of it know not the regimen of truth, for want of the Hermetic Vessel." call their vessel, and sometimes their fire, consists all the secret. And verily the performances thereof are so admirable and so speedy they are almost incredible. Had I known this at first it had not been with me as it hath been ; but every event hath its time, and so had I. This one thing — to lay aside other reasons — doth not only persuade but convince me that this Art was originally revealed to man. For this I am sure of — that man of himself could not possibly think of it ; for it is invisible. It is removed from the eye, and this out of a certain reverence ; and if by chance it comes into sight it withdraws again naturally. For it is the secret of Nature, even that which the philosophers call "the .first copulation." This is enough to a wise artist ; at least it is all I intend to publish. And now, Reader, farewell.

The Fraternity of the Rosy Cross — Their Physical Work

In our sleep a long way and all alone is a sign of death. This, it seems, the poet knew, for when the Queen of Carthage was to die for love he fits her with this melancholy vision : to prognosticate. I do therefore promise my present work not only life but acceptance ; for in this my dream — and I know you will call it so — I travel not without company. There were some gentlemen besides myself who affected this Fame and thought it no disparagement to their own. But it was their pleasure it should receive light at my hands ; and this made them defer their own copies, which otherwise had passed the press. I have, Reader, but little more to say, unless I tell thee of my justice, and now thou shalt see how distributive it is. The translation of the Fama belongs to an unknown hand, but the abilities of the translator I question not. He hath indeed mistaken Damascus for Damcar in Arabia, and this I would not labours. The copy was communicated to me by a gentleman more learned than myself, and I should name him here but that he expects not either thy thanks or mine. As for the preface, it is my own and I wish thee the full benefit of it, which certainly thou canst not miss if thou comest to it with clear eyes and a purged spirit. Consider that prejudice obstructs thy judgment; for if thy affections are engaged — though to an ignis fatuus — thou dost think it a guide because thou dost follow it. It is not opinion makes things false or true, for men have denied a great part of the world which now they inhabit ; and America — as well as the Philosopher's Stone — was sometimes in the predicament of impossibilities. There is nothing more absurd than to be of the same mind with the generality of men, for they have entertained many gross errors which time and experience have confuted. It is indeed our sluggishness and incredulity that hinder all discoveries, for men contribute nothing towards them but their contempt or — which is worse — their malice. I have known all this myself and therefore I tell it thee ; but what use thou wilt make of it I know not. To make thee what man should be is not in my power, but it is much in thy own, if thou knowest thy duty to thyself. Think of it and fare well. E. P. myself that noise which men call Fame I am not to seek what might conduce to it. It is an age affords many advantages, and I might have the choice of several foundations whereon to build myself. I can see withal that time and employment have made some persons men whom their first adventures did not find such. This sudden growth might give my imperfections also the confidence of such another start ; but as I live not by common examples so I drive not a common design. I have taken a course different from that of the world, for — Readers — I would have you know that, whereas you plot to set yourselves up, I do here contrive to bring myself down. I am in a humour to affirm the existence of that admirable chimaera, the Fraternity of R. C. And now, Gentlemen, I thank you : I have air and room enough. Methinks you sneak and steal from me, as if the plague and this Red Cross were inseparable. Take my " Lord have mercy " along with you, for I pity your sickly brains, and certainly as to your present state the inscription is not unseasonable. But in lieu of this some del Phaebo or a "review of the library of that discreet gentleman of the Mancha ; for in your opinion those Knights and these Brothers are equally invisible. This is hard measure, but I shall not insist to disprove you. If there be any amongst the living of the same bookish faith with myself, they are the persons I would speak to, and yet in this I shall act modestly : I invite them not, unless they be at leisure. contempt which Magic — even in all ages — hath undergone, I can, in my opinion, find no other reasons for it but what the professors themselves are guilty of by misconstruction, and this in reference to a double obscurity of life and language. As for their nice or, to speak a better truth, their conscientious retirements, whereby they did separate themselves from dissolute and brutish spirits, it is that which none can soberly discommend. Nay, it is a very purging argument and may serve to wipe off those contracted, envious scandals which time and man have injuriously fastened on their memory. For if we reason discreetly, we may not safely trust the traditions and judgments of the world, concerning such persons who sequestered themselves from the world and were no way addicted to the affairs or acquaintance thereof. It is true they were losers by this alienation, for both their life and their principles were cross to those of their adversaries. They lived in the shade, in the calm of conscience and solitude ; but their enemies moved in the sunshine, in the eye of worldly transactions, where they kept up their own repute with a clamourous defamation of these innocent and contented hermits. The second obstacle to their fame was partly the simplicity of their style, Solomon's text with mi jilii. But that which spoiled all, and made them contemptible even to some degree of misery, was a corrupt delivery of the notions and vocabula of the art ; for magic — like the sun — moving from the East, carried along with it the oriental terms which our western philosophers, who skilled not the Arabic or Chaldee, &c., did most unhappily and corruptly transcribe ; and verily at this day they are so strangely abused it is more than a task to guess at their original. But this is not all, for some were so singular as to invent certain barbarous terms of their own ; and these conceited riddles — together with their magisterial way of writing — for they did not so far condescend as to reason their positions — made the world conclude them a fabulous generation. Indeed this was a strange course of theirs and much different from that of Trismegistus, in whose genuine works there is not one barbarous syllable, nor any point asserted without most pregnant and demonstrative reasons. Certainly Hermes, as to his course of life, was public and princely, in his doctrine clear and rational, and hence it was that not only his own times but even all subsequent generations were most constant tributaries to his honour. On the contrary — if we may conjecture by effects — there succeeded him in his school certain melancholy, envious spirits whose obscure, inscrutable writings rendered their authors contemptible, but made way for that new noise of Aristotle which men call philosophy. I may say then of these later magicians what Solinus sometimes said of those contentious successors of Alexander the Great — -that they were born " to reap the harvest of Roman glory, not to inherit so great a name." whiles they enviously suppressed the truth, did occasionally promote a lie, for they gave way to the enemy's the true grain cast into the fire. Nor indeed could it be otherwise, for this bushel being placed over the light, the darkness of it invited ignorance abroad. And now steps out Aristotle with his pack, the triumphs of whose petulant school had but two weak supporters — obscurity and envy. Both these proceeded from the malignancy of some eminent authors, whom God had blessed with discoveries extraordinary. These, to secure themselves and the art, judged it their best course to blot out the past, that such as were unworthy might never be able to follow them. It cannot be denied that this mystery and cloud of the letter carried with it both discretion and necessity ; but what spoiled all was the excess of the contrivers, for they passed all decency— both in the measure and the manner of it. I could be numerous in examples and proofs of this kind but that I hold it superfluous to pause at a point which is acknowledged on all hands. required some comment and clearness ; but few being able to expound, the world ran generally to the other side and the schoolmen have got the day, not by weight but by number. This considered, it cannot be thought unreasonable and certainly not unseasonable if a Society, conscious of the truth and skilled in the abstruse principles of Nature, shall endeavour to rectify the world. For hitherto we have been abused with Greek fables and a pretended knowledge of causes, but without their much desired effects. We plainly see that if the least disease invades us the schoolmen have not one notion that is so embrace a philosophy of mere words, when it is evident enough that we cannot live but by works ? Let us not, for shame, be so stupid any more, for 'tis a barbarous ignorance to maintain that for truth which our own daily experience can assure us to be false. But somebody will reply that the antiquity 'of this peripatism may claim some reverence ; and we must complementally invite it abroad, not churlishly turn it out of doors. This in my opinion were to dance before Dagon, as David did before the Ark, to pay that respect to a lie which is due only to the truth : and this is answer sufficient. have here adventured to publish, I have for my own part no relation to them, neither do I much desire their acquaintance. I know they are masters of great mysteries, and I know withal that Nature is so large they may as well receive as give. I was never yet so lavish an admirer of them as to prefer them to all the world ; for it is possible and perhaps true that a private man may have that in his possession whereof they are ignorant. It is not their title and the noise it hath occasioned that makes me commend them. The acknowledgment I give them was first procured by their books, for there I found them true philosophers and therefore not chimaeras — as* most think — but men. Their principles are everyway correspondent to the ancient and primitive wisdom : nay, they are consonant to our very religion and confirm every point thereof. I question not but most of their pro- where the prerogative and power of Nature is known there will they quickly fall even, for they want not their order and sobriety. It will be expected perhaps that I should speak something as to their persons and habitations, but in this my cold acquaintance will excuse me ; or had I any familiarity with them I should not doubt to use it with more discretion. As for their existence — if I may speak like a schoolman — there is great reason we should believe it, neither do I see how we can deny it, unless we grant that Nature is studied — and books also written and published — by some other creatures than men. It is true indeed that their knowledge at first was not purchased by their own inquisitions, for they received it from the Arabians, amongst whom it remained as the monument and legacy of the children of the East. Nor is this at all improbable, for the eastern countries have been always famous for magical and secret societies. because I am a Christian ; and yet I doubt not you will believe a heathen, because Aristotle was one. Take then amongst you a more acceptable ethnic — I mean Philostratus, for thus he delivers himself in the Life of Apollonius. He brings in his Tyaneus discoursing with Prince Phraotes and, amongst other questions proposed to the Prince, Apollonius asks him where he had learnt his philosophy and the Greek tongue ; for amongst the Indians — said this Greek — there are no philosophers. To this simple query the Prince replies smiling with a notable sarcasm : " Our forefathers " — said he — " did ask all those who came hither in ships if they were not pirates ; for they conceived all the world but themselves Grecians ask not those strangers who come to you if they be philosophers." To this he adds a very dissolute opinion of the same Grecians, namely, that philosophy, which of all donatives is the divinest, should be esteemed amongst them as a thing indifferent and proportionate to all capacities. " And this, I am sure " — saith Phraotes to Apollonius — " is a kind of piracy tolerated amongst you, which being applied here to philosophy I should make bold to render it sacrilege." But the Prince proceeds and schools his novice, for such was Apollonius, who was never acquainted with any one mystery of Nature. " I understand" — saith he — ".that amongst you Grecians there are many intruders that unjustly apply themselves to philosophy, as being no way conformable to it. These usurp a profession which is not their own, as if they should first rob men of their clothes and then wear them, though never so disproportionate. And .thus do you proudly straddle in borrowed ornaments. And certainly as pirates, who know themselves liable to innumerable tortures, do lead a sottish and a loose kind of life, even so amongst you these pirates and plunderers of philosophy are wholly given to lusts and compotations. And this, I suppose, is an evil that proceeds from the blindness and improvidence of your laws. For should any man-stealer be found amongst you, or should any adulterate your coin these were offences capital and punished with death. But for such as counterfeit and corrupt philosophy, your law corrects them not, neither have you any magistrate with the Indians, and that clamourous liberty they had to distract one another, some of them being epicures, some cynics, some stoics, some again peripatetics and some of the scuffling and squabbling of these sectaries did at last produce the sceptic, who finding nought in the schools but opposition and bitterness resolved for a new course and secured his peace with his ignorance. Phraotes having thus returned that calumny which Apollonius bestowed on the Indians to the bosom of this conceited Greek gives him now an account of his own College — I mean the Brahmins — with the excellent and wholesome severity of their discipline. And here I cannot but observe the insolence of Tyaneus, who being a mere stranger in the Indies notwithstanding runs into a positive absurdity, and before he has conversed with the inhabitants concludes them no philosophers. These bad manners of his I could — and perhaps not unjustly — derive from the customary arrogance of his countrymen, whose kindness to their own issue distinguished not the Greeks and the sages. But the rest of the world they discriminated with a certain sheep-mark of their own and branded them with the name of barbarians. How much an aspersion this is we shall quickly understand if we attend the prince in his discourse : for thus he instructs Apollonius : admitted to philosophy, and this is the manner of their election. At the age of eighteen years the person to be elected comes to the River Hyphasis l and there meets with those wise men for whose sake even you, Apollonius, are come into these parts. There he doth publicly profess a very ardent desire and affection to philosophy, for such as are otherwise disposed are left to their own liberty, to follow what profession they please. This done, the next consideration is whether he be descended from honest parents or no ; and here they look back even to .three generations, that by the disposition and quality of the ancestors they may guess at those of the child. If then they proceed to his admission : but first they try him and prove him with several temptations — for example, whether he be naturally modest or rather acts a counterfeit bashfulness for a time, being otherwise impudent and lascivious ; whether he be sottish and gluttonous or no ; whether he be of an insolent, bold spirit, and may prove refractory and disobedient to his tutors. Now those that are appointed to examine him have the skill to read his qualities in his countenance, for the eyes discover most of men's manners, and in the brows and cheeks there are many excellent indicia whereby wise men, and such as are skilled in the mysteries of Nature, may discover our minds and dispositions, as images are discovered in a glass." And certainly since philosophy amongst the Indians is had in very great honour, it is necessary that those who would know the secrets of it should be tempted and proved by all possible trials before ever they be admitted. This was then the discipline of the Brahmins and indeed of all the Magi in the election and proof of their pupils. asks Phraotes if these wise men, mentioned in his discourse, were of the same order as those who did sometime meet Alexander the Great and had some conference with him concerning heaven ; 2 for it seems they were astrologers. To this the Prince answers that these planetmongers were the Oxydracae, who were a people disposed to the wars.4 " And for knowledge " — saith he — they make a great profession of it, but indeed they know nothing that is excellent. But he proceeds : 5 " Those wise men who are truly such dwell between the River Hyphasis and Ganges, into which place Alexander never came, not that he durst not attempt it ; but as I think " — saith the Prince — " the reverence due to their mysteries query, and sorry I am that he had not the wit to propound either more or better questions ; but we must take them as they are. He asks Jarchas whether the earth or the sea did -exceed in quantity. To this the Indian replies that if he only considered the Mediterranean or some other particular channel, the earth without question did exceed. " But if you ask " — said he — " concerning humidity or moisture in general, then verily the earth is much lesser than the water, for it is the water that bears up the earth." This indeed is sound reason and conformable both to Scripture and Nature ; for the very Spirit that animates and supports the universe hath his habitation in the water. readers — for others I would not have — that the Brahmins were not a fabulous, superstitious society but men of a severe doctrine, whose principles were answerabfe to the very rigour of Nature and did not wanton beyond her laws. I could wish Apollonius had been more able to deal with them ; but so short was he of philosophy that he knew not what to ask them, and that ample liberty which they gave him was all of it to no purpose. This is clear to such as know anything out of his former queries, which we have already mentioned. But if we look on the rest of his problems they are most of them but so many historical fables which he brought with him out of Greece : and now he begins to shake his budget. The first thing that comes out is the Martichora, a monster which Mandeville could never meet withal ;" and then he questions Jarchas concerning a certain water of the colour of gold ; 3 and this indeed might signify something but that he understood it literally of common, ordinary well-springs ; and therefore Jarchas tells him known that any fountains of golden waters did spring in India. But this is not all. In the rear of this strange beast march the Pigmies, the Sciapodes and the Macrocephali, to which might be' added all the animals in Lucian's history. But — as we commonly say — there is no smoke without some fire : so amongst these foreign fables came in some Indian allegories, and probably the Brahmins themselves had given them out, at once to declare and obscure their knowledge. These alkgories are but two, and Jarchas insists much upon them, besides a solemn acknowledgment. believe there are such things." The first of these two mysteries is the Pantarva, which Ficinus corruptly transcribes Pantaura ;3 and of this Apollonius desired to krtow the truth — namely, if there was such a stone at all and whether it was enriched with so strange a magnetism as to attract to itself all other precious stones. This question the Brahmin satisfies experimentally, for he had this goodly stone about him and favoured Apollonius with the sight thereof. But for our better information let us hear Jarchas himself describe it, for he doth it so fully that a very ordinary capacity may go along with him. "This stone" — saith he — "is generated in certain earthy caverns, some four yards deep, and hath in it such abundance of spirit that in the place of its conception the earth swells up and at last breaks with the very tumour. But to look at this, stone belongs not to every body, for it vanisheth away unless it be extracted with all possible caution. Only we that are Brahmins, by certain practices of our own, can find out the Pantarva."

The second birth then he hath fully and clearly discovered, for when the philosophers' first earth is moistened with its own milk it swells, being impregnated with frequent imbibitions, till at last it breaks and with a soft heat sublimes. And then ascends the heavenly Sulphur, being freed from his hell ; for it leaves behind the Binarius or recremental earth, and is no more a prisoner to that dross. This first, heavenly Sulphur is commonly called stellated rock and earth of pearls ; 2 but Raymund Lully calls it earth of earth, and in a certain place he describes it thus. " This is that Tincture " — saith he — " which strips off its vile earth and clothes itself with a nobler kind."' But elsewhere prescribing some caveats for the rorid work, he expressly mentions the first and second Sulphurs, commonly called " Sulphur from Sulphurs." He saith that " this is understood of that earth which is not separated from the vessel, or earth of earth." This is enough to prove the affinity of the Pantarva and the Philosophers' Stone. instructions, and Apollonius hears him to -no purpose. " The Pantarva " — saith he — " after night discovers a fire as bright as day, for it is fiery and shining ; but if you look on it in the daytime it dazzles the eye with certain gleams or coruscations." Whence this light came and what it was the Brahmin was not ignorant of. " That light " — said he — " which shines in it is a spirit of admirable power, for it attracts to itself all things that stones were cast into the sea or into some river, and this too confusedly, as being far scattered and dispersed one from another, yet this magical stone — being let down after them — would bring them again together ; for they would all move towards the Pantarva and cluster under, it, like a swarm of bees. This is all he tells him ; but in conclusion he produceth his Pantarva. In plain terms he shewed him the Philosophers', Stone and the miraculous effects thereof. The second secret which Apollonius stumbled on, for he knew it not as a secret, was the gold of the Gryphons, and this also Jarchas doth acknowledge, but I shall forbear to speak of it, for I hold it not altogether convenient. and this I will do ; but I shall first prevent an objection, though a sorry one, for ignorance makes use of all tools. It will be said perhaps I have been too bold with Apollonius, who — in the opinion of many men, and such as would be thought learned — was a very great philosopher. To this I answer that I question not any man's learning : let them think of themselves as they please, and if they can, let them be answerable to their thoughts. But as for Apollonius, I say, the noise . of his miracles, like those of Xavier, may fill some credulous ears, and this sudden 'larum may procure him entertainment ; but had these admirers perused his history they had not betrayed so much weakness as to allow him any sober performances to him, as that he should raise the dead, free himself from prison and shake off his chains with as much divinity as St Peter himself ; nay, that pleading with Domitian in a full senate he should suddenly vanish away and be translated in a moment from Rome to Puteoli. Truly these are great effects ; but if we consider only what Philostratus himself will confess we shall quickly find that all these things are but inventions. For in the beginning of his romance, where he would give his readers an account of his inventions, and from what hands he received them, he tells us that Damis, who was Apollonius his fellow-traveller, did write his life and all the occurrences thereof ; 3 but those commentaries of Damis — saith he— were never published by Damis himself, only a friend of his, a somebody, a certain familiar of Damis did communicate them to Julia the Queen. And here Philostratus tells me that this Queen commanded him to transcribe these commentaries. It seems then that they were originally written in the Greek and Philostratus is a mere transcriber, and no author. This I cannot believe, for Damis was an Assyrian and— as he himself confesseth — a very ignorant person, and altogether illiterate. But meeting with Apollonius and .conversing with the Greeks, he also was almost made a Grecian, but not altogether — not so learned a Grecian as to write histories, and in a style like that of Philostratus. But this is not all. Our author tells us of one Moeragenes, who had formerly written the life of Apollonius in four books ; but this fellow — saith he — was ignorant of the performances or miracles of Tyaneus. And what Moeragenes. And why not, I beseech you ? Because forsooth he lived near if not in the days of Apollonius but never heard of those monstrous fables which Philostratus afterwards invented. We must then believe Philostratus himself, for he is not the familiar friend but the familiar spirit of Apollonius. It was he indeed that wrought all these wonders, for Apollonius himself never wrought any. pleasure of some men to think him learned — I must confess for my part I cannot find it. The philosophy that he pretended to was that of Pythagoras, for thus he rants it to Vardanes the Babylonian. " I am a master " — saith he — " of the wisdom of Pythagoras the Samian. He taught me the true form of worshipping the gods and who of them are visible, who invisible, and how I may come to speak with them." How true this is we may easily know, if we look back on his education. His tutor in the Pythagorean principles was one Euxenus, a notable sot, and a man ignorant, as Philostratus tells us.5 " He was " — saith our author — " an epicure in his course of life ; and for his' learning, he could only repeat some sentences of Pythagoras but did not understand them-' ; and therefore he compares him to certain mimic birds, who are taught their " farewell " and their " Propitious Zeus," but know not what the words signify. Now, what instructions he was like to receive from this man let any indifferent reader judge. But we have something more to say ; for if Apollonius when he was at Babylon could converse' with the gods, why did he afterwards India he requests the Brahmins to teach him the art of divination. Certainly had he been familiar with angels and spirits he had not troubled them with such a question. These indeed are the slips of Philostratus, who had the art of lying but wanted the art of memory. In another place he tells us that Apollonius understood all the languages that men did speak and — which is more miraculous — even their secret cogitations. This is much indeed, but shortly afterwards he forgets these strange perfections ; for when he brings him to Phraotes —that serious eastern Prince — there doth he use an interpreter ; for Tyaneus — who formerly understood all languages — could not understand the language of the Prince, and so far was he from knowing his secret thoughts that he did not know in how many languages he could express those thoughts. For when the Prince was pleased to express himself in the Greek tongue Tyaneus was quite dejected and did much wonder how he came to be a master of that dialect. their mysteries to him, it is apparent enough they did not. This is it which even Damis tells us, for Apollonius — saith he — requested nothing of the Brahmins but certain divinatory tricks, by which he might foretell things to come. And here Jarchas takes occasion to discourse with him about revelations, for he speaks not of any prognosticating knacks which this Greek did look after. He tells him then that he judged him a most happy man who could obtain any foreknowledge at the hands of God and preach that to the ignorant which he did already foresee. As for rules to divine by he prescribes not any, for it was too gross an error for such should lead a pure life and keep himself spotless from the flesh. One passage indeed there is which I cannot omit. Jarchas informs Apollonius that of all gifts imparted to man by revelation " the chief est "-—said he — " is the gift of healing, or Medicine." But this heavenly and most beneficial truth Apollonius was not sensible of, for he was so great a stranger to the secrets of Nature that he did not know what to ask for. For my own part, if I durst think him a philosopher, I should seat him with the Stoics ; for he was a great master of moral severities, and- this is all the character I can give him. As for Philostratus, if we were not even with him I should think he had much abused us; for when he penned his history he allowed us no discretion to come after him. I could be sorry for some absurdities he hath fastened on Jarchas, did not the principles of that glorious Brahmin refute them. What they are I shall not tell you, for I am confined to a preface and cannot proportion my discourse to the deserts of my subject. me face about, for I am wide of my text — the Society of R. C. I have indeed exceeded in my service to the Brahmins ; but in all that there was no impertinency. I did it to shew the conformity of the old and new professors ; and this is so far from digression I can think it near a demonstration. For when we have evidence that magicians have been it is proof also that they may be,- sigce it cannot be denied that precedents exclude impossibility. I hold it then worth our observation that even those Magi who came to Christ Himself came from the East. But as we cannot prove they were if any man will be so cross as to contend for the negative he shall have my thanks for the advantage he allows me ; for then it must follow that the East afforded more magical societies than one. But this point I need not insist on, for the learned will not deny but wisdom and light were first, manifested in the same parts, namely, in the East, where the first man planted. And hence did the world receive not only their religion but their philosophy, for custom hath distinguished those two. From this fountain also — this living oriental one — did the Brothers of R. C. draw their wholesome waters ; for their founder received his principles at Damcar in Arabia, as their Fama will instruct you at large. It was not amiss then if I spent my hour in that bright region and paid a weak gratitude to those primitive benefactors ; for 'tis a law with me "that he who draws the water should adorn the well." shall confess, for my part, I have no acquaintance with this Fraternity as to their .persons ; but their doctrine I am not so much a stranger to. And here, for the reader's satisfaction, I shall speak something of it, not that I would discover or point at any particulars, for that's a kindness — as they themselves profess — which they have not for any man till they first eat a bushel of salt with him. They tell us then that the fire and Spirit of God did work upon the earth and the water ; and out of them did the Spirit extract a pure, clear substance, which they call the terrestrial heaven. In this heaven the Spirit — say they — seated Himself, impressing His image therein. And out of this heavenly, clarified extract, impregnated with the influx and image of the Spirit, was formed that most noble creature whom we call man. This first matter a certain bright earth, purified by a supernatural agent and tempered with a strange, unctuous humidity, enlightened with all the tinctures of the sun and stars. It was and is the minera of all creatures ; and this Society doth acknowledge it to be their very basis and the first gate that leads to all their secrets. This earth or water — call it which you will, for it is both — naturally produceth their agent ; -but* it comes not to their hands without art. By their agent 1 understand their fire, commonly called Male of Water, Vulcan, Invisible Sun, Son of the Sun, Lower Star, Hidden Smith, Immanent — with a thousand other names. It is, sans all metaphors, "a divine fire and nutriment of all," and that I may speak truth, even in the phrase of Aristotle, it is " a very divine principle and conformed to the starry elements." This is that fire which Zoroaster calls " the fiery soul of the Kosmos and a living fire." In plain terms, it is "the tincture of the matrix, a fiery, radiant soul, that calls up another soul like itself ; for it makes the anima of the Mercury which is almost drowned in a cold and phlegmatic Lethe. stand the philosophers, for they tell us that God at first created the chaos and afterwards divided it into three portions. Of the first He made the spiritual world, of the second the visible heavens and their lights, but the third and worst part was appointed for this sublunary building. Out of this coarse and remaining portion He extracted the elemental quintessence or First Matter of all earthly things, and of this the four elements — for there is such a bold arithmetic — were made. Now, be thou art one of those who conceive themselves to be somebody. I tell thee this theory is Raymund Lully's, and if thou canst make nothing of it I can, without a figure, tell thee how wise thou art. There are in the world as many sorts of salts as there are species, and the salts differ as the species do, namely, essentially ; for the specific forms lie in the salt. Now learn of me that there is no true physic but what is in salt ; for salt was never known to putrefy ; nay, it hinders putrefaction and corruption in all things, and what hinders corruption hinders all diseases. Now, it is evident to all the world that salt hinders corruption and a solution of the parts, and this not only in living things but even in dead bodies ; for if they be seasoned with salt they are preserved and corruption comes not at them. It is to be observed that Vergil in the cure of Aeneas brings in his mother Venus with a panacea, or an Universal Medicine : Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews And odorous panacee.
they call themselves ; but Servius upon the place tells us it is an admirably devised name, and he observes — out of Lucretius — that the panacea was salt. It is true that if we could putrefy salt it would discover all the mysteries of Nature, for it hath all the tinctures in it. But to destroy this substance is a hard task, for he that would do it must do something more than death can do — for even her prerogative comes not so far. Howsoever, it cannot be denied but some wise men have attained to the putrefaction of salts ; but this key they received from admire most in it is this — that when it is killed it dies not but recovers to a better life, which is a very strange privilege. On the contrary, if some animal dies, if an herb withers, or if some metal be calcined and the parts thereof truly separated, we can never restore them again. But this mystical substance, this root of the world, if you bring his parts together after they are separated, they will not be quiet but run from one complexion to another, from this colour to that — as from green to red, from red to black, from black to a million of colours. And these miraculous alterations will not cease till he hath worked out his own resurrection and hath clearly brought himself to a supernatural temperature. " I say then that salt is the true grain, the seed not only of this world but of the next ; and it is the mystery that God hath made. It is a living water, wherein there dwells a Divine Fire, and this Fire binds the parts thereof to himself, coagulates them and stops their flux. And salt is the water that wets not the hand. .This fire is the life, and therefore it hinders death. Nay, it is such a preservative against it that the very gross body of salt prevents corruption wheresoever it comes. But if any man fully know the power of this fire, let him wisely and effectually dislodge him. Let him destroy his habitation, and then he shall see what course this artist will take to repair his own house. Do not think now that I speak of common salts, though I confess they are great medicines — if rightly prepared. end with that complaint of the chemist in Sendivogius, who " bewailed the lost Stone and his folly in not asking Saturn what manner of Salt was this, seeing that there are many varieties of this substance." of the chaos which I have formerly mentioned out of Raymund Lully ; for the Matter as it is there described is not subject to many complexions, and therefore thy mistakes cannot be many. And now let us touch at the treasures of our saltish liquor and our liquid salt. Saith one : " Let us seek after that grade of spirit or water which is, so to speak, more sensible and much more familiar to us ; with zealous investigation let us follow the footsteps of the aerial nature, in the hiddenness whereof are treasured the great wonders, namely, angels of all degrees, essential forms of inferior things, the. radical humidity of all that lives, the nutriment of thick fire, admirable portents of meteors, hurricanes from the four quarters and innumerable other mysteries." is it possible — say'st thou — that any bodily substance should inclose such mysteries as these ? In this, my friend, thou hast thy liberty. Trouble not thyself about it, for thy faith will add nothing to it and thy incredulity cannot take anything from it. This only thou shalt do : be pleased to give way to my sauciness, for — I must tell thee— I do not know that thing which I may call impossible. I am sure there are in Nature powers of all powers are subject to us. Behold, I will declare unto thee their generation and their secret descents even to this earth. It is most certain that God works by the ideas of His own mind, and the ideas dispense their seals and communicate them daily to the matter. Now the Anima Mundi hath in the fixed stars her particular forms or seminal conceptions, answerable to the ideas of the Divine Mind and here doth she first receive those spiritual powers and influences which originally proceed from God. From this place they are conveyed to the planets, especially to the sun and moon ; and these two great lights impart them to the air, and from the air they pass down to the belly or matrix of the earth in prolific spirited winds and waters. Seeing then that the visible heavens receive the brightness of the spiritual world and this earth the brightness of the visible heavens, why may not we find something on earth which takes in this brightness and comprehends in itself the powers of the two superior worlds ? Now if there be" such a subject to be found, I suppose it will not be denied but the powers of the angelical and celestial worlds are very strange powers, and what that is which they cannot do is hard to determine. The subject then is the salt I have spoken of formerly. It is the body of the universal spirit — . It is the sperm of Nature which she prepares for her own light — as if we should prepare oil for a lamp. A strange substance it is but very common, and of some philosophers most properly called " green and admirable salt." * And here it will not be amiss to speak something of the Kabalist's Green Line, a mystery not rightly apprehended even by some of the Mekkubalim ; but certainly the modern Rabbins know it not at all. " It receives and includes all the influences of the Sephirotical order. It compasseth the heavens and in them the earth, like a green rainbow or one vast sphere of viridity, and from this viridity the Divine Influences are showered down, like rain through the ether, into the globes of the fixed stars. For what the air is to the globe of the earth such is the ether to the globes of the stars ; and here lies a secret of the Mekkubalim ; for they tell us there is a double Venus in a twofold air. But of this enough. viridity, which is to be seen and felt here -below. It is the Proteus of the old poets ; for if the spirit of this green gold be at liberty — which will not be till the body is bound — then will he discover all the essences of the universal centre. described by a most excellent and withal a severe professor of philosophy. " But after the spirit has failed " — says he — " through the perishable courses amidst which it is dispersed, it is presently purged from all impurity, and into stone, or perchance into some extraordinary animal ; but now and then into a clod, a pearl, some gem or metal ; and sweetly glittering with blushing flames, it passes continually through a myriad changes of colours, |nd lives always an operator and magus of prodigies, never wearying with the toil thereof but ever young in strength and energy." these miracles grow out of a certain earth, a soft red clay which is to be found everywhere. It may be that thou art much troubled at these appearances which I have mentioned ; but what wilt thou say to lamblichus, who tells, us seriously that this earth will attract angels — I mean, good spirits ? For so did he. But let us hear this auditor 'of Anebo, for thus he writes from Egypt to Porphyrius. "The first and most ancient of substances " ; — he says — " shines forth also in the last, and material. No one should marvel therefore that we affirm such matter to be pure and even divine. For when it was made by the Artificer and Father of all, it rightly assumed to itself a certain perfection, suitable to be accepted by the gods. Moreover, there is nothing which hinders higher things from dispensing their light to those which are below, and they do not suffer matter to be destitute of virtues from above. For this reason, in so far as matter is perfect and pure it is not unworthy the reception of the gods. And seeing that it is in no wise meet for the earthly to be bereaved of divine communion, so also the earth receives a certain divine portion, sufficient to entertain the gods. It is not lawful therefore to detest matter altogether but that aspect of it only which tis alien to the gods. It is right to select what is suitable to them, as something which can be consented unto. . But no possession or portion of divine things can befall terrestrial places and men dwelling therein unless such foundation be laid in the first place. It is to be believed on the faith of secret teachings bearing witness to the gods in the blessed pageants that the mystery concerning a certain matter has been handed down and that the same is known -therefore to those who transmitted it. Such matter moves the gods to manifest themselves," &c. . These are the words of lamblichus in that profound discourse of his, where he gives Porphyrius an account of the Egyptian, Chaldean and Assyrian Mysteries. I know the philosophical earth discovers not those forms I have spoken of in the common, ordinary process, which if any man knows I shall not therefore call him a philosopher. There are several ways to use this mystery, both first and last, and some of them may be communicated, but some not. To conclude, I say that this clarified earth is the stage of all forms, for here they are manifested like images in a glass ; and when the time of their manifestation is finished they retreat into that centre out of which and all the animals in the world — even man himself, with all his tumult and principality. This soft clay is the mother. of them all ; and what the divine Vergil sometime said of Italy may be very properly applied to this our saturnine and sovereign earth.

For veins of silver and for ore of. gold. Th' inhabitants themselves their country grace ; Hence rose the Marsian and Sabellian race, Strong-limb'd and stout, and to the wars inclined, And hard Ligurians — a laborious kind. And Volscians arm'd with iron-headed darts. Besides — an offspring of undaunted hearts — The Decii, Marii, great Camillus, came From hence, and greater Scipios' double name. And mighty Caesar, whose victorious arms To farthest Asia carry fierce alarms, Avert unwarlike Indians from his Rome, Triumph abroad, secure our peace at home. Hail sweet Saturnian soil, of fruitful grain Great parent !
reasons for those strange effects whereof this Society hath made a public profession. I did it not as a kindness to them, for I pen no plots, neither do I desire their familiarity. I am indeed of the same faith with them, and I have thus prefaced because I had the impudence to think it concerned me as much as them. And verily it is true that wheresoever I meet my own 'positions there I have an interest, and I am as much bound to the ground here laid : it is the Art of Water, the philosopher's Humid Key and this Society's parergon. I dare not speak anything of their metaphysical mystery, but I can tell thee it is not the same with the Philosopher's Stone, either in form or matter ; and let this satisfy thee. I know some dispositions are so cross to these principles I might write again to excuse what I have written ; but this I am resolved not to do. If thou art a malicious reader and dost think it too much because it suits not with thy own jingles, I must tell thee thou art none of my peers ; for I have known some sciences which thou hast never heard of, nor thy fathers before thee. into himself and rationally consider those generations which are obvious to our eyes. We see there is a power granted to man over those things whose original he doth know. Examples and instances we have in corn and other vegetables, whose seed being known to the husbandman he can by the seed multiply his corn and provide for himself as he thinks fit. It is just so in minerals : there is a seed out of which Nature makes them, a First Matter ; and this the magicians carefully sought after, for they reasoned with themselves that as Nature by the vegetable seed did multiply vegetables so might they also by the mineral seed multiply minerals. When they found out the seed they practised upon it in several ways. They did shut it up in glasses, keeping it in a most equal, temperate heat for many months together : but all was to no purpose. Then did they fancy another course, for they buried it in the earth and left it there for a long time : but without any success. At last they considered, God without all question being their guide, that Nature had for every seed a vessel of her own and that all her vegetable seed had the common earth for his vessel, for therein Nature did sow it. The animal sperm had the flesh for his, and flesh is but a soft, animated earth — as it appears in the dissolution of the body. They saw plainly then that both these vessels were not appointed for the mineral sperm. They were too cold for it, and common fire was too hot, or if it were well regulated yet could it not alter the sperm, for it had not the qualities of a matrix. Then did they try several new heats. They exposed their Matter to the sun ; they buried it in dunghills and beds of quicklime ; they placed their glasses in the moonbeams ; they invented new baths ; they made use of sand, ashes and filings of iron ; they burnt oils and fancied all sorts of lamps : but all this was error, and it ended in a troublesome nothing. Now all these falsities shall a man meet with in their books ; for when they had found out the mineral vessel, and especially the second earth, wherein they sowed their Mercury and Sulphur, then did they so confound the earth that it is almost impossible to get the preparation out of their hands. which great and aspiring wits must strive withal may be the more apparent ; and surely I think I have pretty well cleared the way. Thus, Reader, have I given thee my best advice ; and now it remains thou shouldst rail at me for it. It may be thou hast a free spirit, but if this liberality concerns not thy credit, keep thy spleen to thyself, for I would not have thee spend what thou canst well spare. lodging, for I would give thee no such directions, my nature being more melancholy than sociable. I would only tell thee how charitable I am, for having purposely omitted some necessaries in my former discourse I have upon second thoughts resolved against that silence. her confidants, but in a sense different from the Madams. This generation I have sometimes met withal and lest they should ride and repent, I thought it not amiss to shew them the precipices. The second philosophical work is commonly called the gross work, but 'tis one 'of the greatest subtleties in all the Art. Cornelius Agrippa knew the first preparation and hath clearly discovered it ; but the difficulty of the second made him almost an enemy to his own profession. By the second work I understand not coagulation but the solution of the Philosophical Salt, a secret which Agrippa did not rightly know, as it appears by his practice at Malines, nor would Natalius teach him, for all his frequent and serious entreaties. This was it that made his necessities so vigorous and his purse so weak that I can seldom find him in a full fortune. But in this he is not alone. Raymund Lully — the best Christian artist that ever was — received not this mystery from Arnoldus, for in his first practices to make a man old. Norton was so strange an ignoramus in this point, that if the solution and purgation were performed in three years he thought it a happy work. George Ripley laboured for new inventions to putrefy this Red Salt, which he enviously calls his gold ; and his knack is to expose it to alternate fits of cold and heat. But in this he is singular, and Faber is so wise he will not understand him. And now that I have mentioned Faber, I must needs say that Tubal Cain himself is short of the right substance ; for the process he describes hath not anything of Nature in it. Let us return then to Raymund Lully, for he was so great a master that he performed the solution inside nine days ; and this secret he had from God Himself : for this is his CONFESSION. " When seeking to extract that benign spirit did in no wise derive by the way of the sciences, nor yet by art ; and therefore we thought ourselves as it were hoodwinked by a kind of clownishness, being unable anywise to comprehend the mystery, until a spirit of prophecy came down from the Father of Lights, as if no wise deserting His own or leaving postulants to their own devices. This spirit infused during sleep such clearness into the eyes of mind, that it deigned in its pure bounty to make known the secret within and without, apart from all figures of speech, refreshing us by its illimitable goodness and demonstrating that to perform the work we must prepare the body by a secret, natural decoction, in which wholly retrogressive process, as if by a sharp lance, all its nature shall be visibly dissolved into pure blackness."

Here lies the knot, and who is he that will untie it ? " For " — saith the same Lully — it was never put to paper, and he gives this reason for it — " because it is the office away from the Divine Glory when he publishes, by word of mouth or in writing, what appertains to God alone. Therefore thou canst not attain to this operation until thou hast first been approved spiritually for the favours of Divinity. For this secret is of no human revelation but for that of the Benign Spirit, Which breathes where it wills."

It seems then the greatest difficulty is not in the coagulation or production of the Philosophical Salt but in the putrefaction of it, when it is produced. Indeed shall we do ? Whence comes our next intelligence ? I am afraid here is a sad truth for somebody. Shall we run now to Lucas Rhodagirus, or have we any dusty manuscripts that can instruct us ? Well, Reader, thou seest how free I am grown ; and now I could discover something else, but here is enough at once. I could indeed tell thee of the first and second sublimation, of a double nativity — visible and invisible — without which the matter is not alterable as to our purpose. I could tell thee also of Sulphurs simple and compounded, of three argents vive and as many Salts ; and all this would be new news — as the bookmen phrase it — even to the best learned in England. But I have done, and I hope this discourse hath not demolished any man's castles ; for why should they despair when I contribute to their building ? I am a hearty Dispensero, and if they have got anything by me, much good may it do them.

It is my only fear they will mistake when they read, for were I to live long — which I am confident I shall not — I would make no other wish but that my years might contempt, for I undervalue no man. It is my experience in this kind of learning — which I ever made my business — that gives me the boldness to suspect a possibility of the same failings in others which I have found in myself. To conclude : I would have my reader know that the philosophers finding this life subjected to necessity and that necessity was inconsistent with the nature of the possible they might take hold of liberty and transcend the dispensations of that circle which they mysteriously called Fate. Now what this really signifies not one in ten thousand knows ; and yet we are all philosophers.

But to come to my purpose : I say the true philosophers did find in every compound a double complexion — circumferential and central. The circumferential was corrupt in central not so, for in the centre of everything there was a perfect unity, a miraculous indissoluble concord of fire and water. These two complexions are the manifestum and the occultum of the Arabians ; and they resist one another, for they are contraries. In the centre itself they found no discord at all, for the difference of spirits consisted not in qualities but in degrees of essence and transcendency. As for the water it was of kin with the fire, for it was not common but ethereal. In all centres this fire was not the same, for in some it was only a solar spirit, and such a centre was called " Water of the Sun, Celestial Water, Water of Gold, Water of Silver." In some again the spirit was more than solar, for it was supercelestial and metaphysical. This spirit purged the very rational soul and awakened her root that was asleep. And therefore such a centre was called Water tinged with Fire, Clarifying Water, a Candle uplighting and illuminating the House. Of both these waters have I discoursed in those small tractates I have published ; and although I have had some dirt cast at me for my pains, becomes him. This is the entertainment I provide for my adversaries ; and if they think it too coarse let them judge where they understand, and they may fare better.

Colophon

Thomas Vaughan (Eugenius Philalethes), Aula Lucis, or The House of Light (London, 1652). This text follows the collected edition: The Works of Thomas Vaughan: Eugenius Philalethes, edited by Arthur Edward Waite (London: Theosophical Publishing House, 1919).

Source scan: University of Toronto copy, digitised by the Internet Archive (identifier: worksofthomasvau00vauguoft). OCR text extracted from DjVu text layer, lines 16545–19748 of the full volume. Automated cleanup removed Waite's editorial footnotes, running headers, and page numbers; remaining OCR artifacts were corrected by hand.

This is the sixth of seven Thomas Vaughan treatises archived from this edition: Anthroposophia Theomagica, Anima Magica Abscondita, Magia Adamica, Coelum Terrae, Lumen de Lumine, Aula Lucis, and Euphrates — all now in the archive.

Archived by Wycliffe (Early English Archivist, Life 20). Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. First QC pass by Shimai (WIP Finisher, Pass 300): removed ~40 Waite footnote blocks (Latin citations, editorial commentary, scholarly apparatus), rejoined ~44 page-boundary paragraph splits, fixed OCR artifacts, stripped inline footnote markers. Second QC pass by Tamám (WIP Finisher, Pass 300): 52 additional page-boundary joins, 13 footnote marker removals, 30 OCR artifact corrections (garbled characters, stray punctuation, merged words). One unrecoverable OCR artifact remains: a garbled Greek quotation in the Kabalist passage.

Other works by Thomas Vaughan in the archive: Anthroposophia Theomagica (1650) · Anima Magica Abscondita (1650) · Coelum Terrae (1650) · Magia Adamica (1650) · Lumen de Lumine (1651) · Euphrates (1655).

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