Lumen de Lumine

by Thomas Vaughan (Eugenius Philalethes)

Lumen de Lumine, or A New Magical Light (1651), is the fifth of Thomas Vaughan's published treatises. Where Anthroposophia Theomagica laid out his Hermetic philosophy and Magia Adamica argued for magic as the original science of Adam, this work attempts nothing less than a guided tour of Nature's hidden architecture — the First Matter, the Secret Fire, the Philosophical Mountain, and the alchemical processes of generation and transmutation.

The treatise is framed as a dream-vision. Vaughan falls asleep and is met by Thalia — "always green and shall never wither" — who leads him through an underworld of diamond rocks and silent cataracts to a sanctuary beneath the earth. There she reveals the nature of the chaos, the sperm of the world, and the means by which the elements are united into living matter. The work includes a remarkable letter from the Brothers of the Rosy Cross describing a magical mountain "both small and great, soft and above measure hard," and concludes with twelve mystical aphorisms on the Monad, the Triad, and the generating circle.

This text follows the 1919 collected edition prepared by Arthur Edward Waite for the Theosophical Publishing House, London (archive.org identifier: worksofthomasvau00vauguoft). Waite's extensive editorial footnotes and Latin annotations have been removed to present Vaughan's prose as he wrote it. The original was first published in London, 1651.

The Epistle Dedicatory

To my dear Mother, the most famous University of Oxford.

I HAVE observed, most dear Mother, and that in most of thy Sons, a complexion of fame and ingratitude. Learning indeed they have, but they forget the breasts that gave it. Thy good works meet not with one Samaritan ; but many hast thou cured of the leprosy of ignorance. This is the spot that soils our perfections : we have all drunk of thy fountain, but we sacrifice not the water to the well. For my own part, I can present thee with nothing that is voluminous ; but here is a mustard-seed which may grow to be the greatest amongst herbs. The draught itself hath nothing of Nature but what is under the veil; I wish indeed thou mayest see her without a bridal scarf ; but her face — like that of the Annuntiata — expects the pencil of an angel. I cannot say this composure deserves thy patronage : but give me leave to make it my opportunity, that I may return the acknowledgment where I received the benefit. I intend not my address for the Banks of Isis ; thou hast no portion there, unless thy stones require my inscription. It is thy dispersed body I have known, and that only I remember. Take it then, wheresoever thou art, in thy sad removes and visitations. It is neither Sadducee nor Pharisee but the text of an Israelite and

Thy Legitimate Child,

Eugenius Philalethes.
1650.

To the Reader

I HAVE had some contest with myself in the disposal of this piece, the subject being cross to the genius of the times, which is both corrupt and splenetic. It was my desire to keep it within doors, but the relation it bears to my former discourses hath forced it to the press. It is the last of my thoughts and — their first reflex being not complete — I have added this to perfect their image and symmetry. I must confess I have no reason for it but what my adversaries supply me withal. I would advance the truth because they would suppress it. Indeed I have been scurvily rewarded ; but the success of this art grows from its opposition ; and this — I believe — our late libellers have observed, for they quit the science to quash the professors. It is not enough to abuse and misinterpret our writings : with studied calumnies do they disparage our persons, whom they never saw and perhaps never will see. They force us to a bitterness beyond our own dispositions and provoke men to sin — as if they did drive the same design with the devil.

For my own part, I will no more hazard my soul by such uncivil disputes. I know I must give an account of every idle word. This theme hath reduced my passions to a diet. I have resolved for the future to suffer, for this I am sure of : God will condemn no man for his patience.

The world indeed may think the truth overthrown because she is attended with her peace ; for — in the judgment of most men — where there is no noise there is no victory. This I shall look upon as no disadvantage. The estimate of such censors will but lighten the scales ; and I dare suppose them very weak brains who conceive the truth sinks because it outweighs them.

As for tempestuous outcries, when they want their motives they discover an irreligious spirit — one that hath more of the hurricane than of Christ Jesus. God was not in the wind that rent the rock to pieces, nor in the earthquake and fire at Horeb. He was in aura tenui — in the still, small voice. My advice is that no man should resent the common spleen. Who writes the truth of God hath the same patron with the truth itself ; and when the world shall submit to the general tribunal he will find his Advocate where they shall find their Judge. There is a mutual testimony between God and His servants : if the Baptist did bear witness of Christ, Christ also did as much for the Baptist. He was a burning and a shining light. This, Reader, I thought fit to preface, that if any discourse of mine be produced hereafter thou may'st not expect my vindication. I have referred my quarrel to the God of Nature : it is involved in the concernments of His truth. I am satisfied with the peace and rest of a good conscience : I have written nothing but what God hath verified before my eyes in particular and is able to justify before the world in general. I have known His secret light : His candle is my schoolmaster. I testify those things which I have seen under His very beams, in the bright circumference of His glory.

When I first put my thoughts to paper — God can bear me witness — it was not for any private ends. I was drawn and forced to it by a strong admiration of the mystery and majesty of Nature. It was my design to glorify the truth and in some measure to serve the age — had they been capable of it. But the barbarous insults I have met withal, and without any deserts of mine, have forced my charity to keep at home. Truly, had I not been robbed of my peace, I had imparted some things which — I am confident — this generation will not receive from another pen. But the times in this respect fall not even with Providence, for the years of discovery are not yet come. This truth — like the dove in the deluge — must hover in winds and tempests, overlook the surges and billows, and find no place for the sole of her foot. But the wise God provides for her : on all these waves and waters she hath a little bark to return to. Methinks I see her in the window all wet and weather-beaten,

To conclude : this discourse is my last and the only key to my first. What I have written formerly is like the Arabian's Halicali. It is Domus signata, a house shut up : but here I give you the key to the lock. If you enter, seal up what you see in your hearts. Trust it not to your tongue, for that's a flying scroll. Thus I deliver my light to your hands ; but what returns you will give me I know not. If you are for peace, peace be with you ; if for war, I have been so too. But let not him that girds on his armour boast like him that puts it off. Do well and fare well.

Eugenius Philalethes.
1651.

I. The Underworld

Now had the night spent her black stage, and all
Her beauteous, twinkling flames grew sick and pale.
Her scene of shades and silence fled, and day
Dress'd the young East in roses, where each ray —
Falling on sables — made the sun and night
Kiss in a checker of mix'd clouds and light.

I think it were more plain and to some capacities more pleasing if I express myself in this popular, low dialect. It was about the dawning or daybreak when, tired with a tedious solitude and those pensive thoughts which attend it, after much loss and more labour, I suddenly fell asleep. Here then the day was no sooner born but strangled. I was reduced to a night of a more deep tincture than that which I had formerly spent. My fancy placed me in a region of inexpressible obscurity, and — as I thought — more than natural, but without any terrors. I was in a firm, even temper and, though without encouragements, not only resolute but well pleased. I moved every way for discoveries but was still entertained with darkness and silence ; and I thought myself translated to the land of desolation. Being thus troubled to no purpose, and wearied with long endeavours, I resolved to rest myself, and seeing I could find nothing I expected if anything could find me.

I had not long continued in this humour but I could hear the whispers of a soft wind that travelled towards me ; and suddenly it was in the leaves of the trees, so that I concluded myself to be in some wood or wilderness. With this gentle breath came a most heavenly, odourous air, much like that of sweet briars, but not so rank and full. This perfume being blown over, there succeeded a pleasant humming of bees amongst flowers ; and this did somewhat discompose me, for I judged it not suitable with the complexion of the place, which was dark and like midnight. Now was I somewhat troubled with these unexpected occurrences when a new appearance diverted my apprehensions. Not far off on my right hand I could discover a white, weak light — not so clear as that of a candle, but misty and much resembling an atmosphere. Towards the centre it was of a purple colour, like the Elysian sunshine, but in the dilatation of the circumference milky ; and if we consider the joint tincture of the parts, it was a painted Vesper, a figure of that splendour which the old Romans called Sol Mortuorum. Whiles I was taken up with this strange scene there appeared in the middle purple colours a sudden commotion, and out of their very centre did sprout a certain flowery light, as it were the flame of a taper. Very bright it was, sparking and twinkling like the day-star. The beams of this new planet — issuing forth in small skeins and rivulets — looked like threads of silver, which, being reflected against the trees, discovered a curious green umbrage ; and I found myself in a grove of bays. The texture of the branches was so even — the leaves so thick and in that conspiring order — it was not a wood but a building. I conceived it indeed to be the Temple of Nature, where she had joined discipline to her doctrine. Under this shade and screen did lodge a number of nightingales, which I discovered by their whitish breasts. These, peeping through their leafy cabinets, rejoiced at this strange light, and — having first plumed themselves— stirred the still air with their music. This I thought was very pretty, for the silence of the night, suiting with the solitude of the place, made me judge it heavenly. The ground, both near and far off, presented a pleasing kind of checker, for this new star meeting with some drops of dew made a multitude of bright refractions, as if the earth had been paved with diamonds. These rare and various accidents kept my soul busied, but to interrupt my thoughts, as if it had been unlawful to examine what I had seen, another, more admirable object interposed.

I could see between me and the light a most exquisite, divine beauty — her frame neither long nor short but a mean, decent stature. Attired she was in thin loose silk but so green that I never saw the like, for the colour was not earthly. In some places it was fancied with white and silver ribbons, which looked liked lilies in a field of grass. Her head was overcast with a thin, floating tiffany, which she held up with one of her hands and looked as it were from under it. Her eyes were quick, fresh and celestial but had something of a start, as if she had been puzzled with a sudden occurrence. From her black veil did her locks break out, like sunbeams from a mist. They ran dishevelled to her breasts and then returned to her cheeks in curls and rings of gold. Her hair behind her was rolled to a curious globe, with a small short spire, flowered with purple and sky-coloured knots. Her rings were pure, entire emeralds — for she valued no metal — and her pendants of burning carbuncles. To be short, her whole habit was youthful and flowery : it smelt like the East and was thoroughly aired with rich Arabian diapasons. This and no other was her appearance at that time ; but whiles I admired her perfections and prepared to make my addresses she prevents me with a voluntary approach. Here indeed I expected some discourse from her ; but she, looking very seriously and silently in my face, takes me by the hand and softly whispers I should follow her. This, I confess, sounded strange ; but I thought it not amiss to obey so sweet a command, and especially one that promised very much but was able in my opinion to perform more.

The light which I had formerly admired proved now at last to be her attendant, for it moved like an usher before her. This service added much to her glory, and it was my only care to observe her, who though she wandered not yet verily she followed no known path. Her walk was green, being furred with a fine, small grass which felt like plush, for it was very soft, and pearled all the way with daisies and primrose. When we came out of our arbours and court of bays I could perceive a strange clearness in the air, not like that of day, neither can I affirm it was night. The stars indeed perched over us and stood glimmering, as it were, on the tops of high hills ; for we were in a most deep bottom and the earth overlooked us, so that I conceived we were near the centre. We had not walked very far when I discovered certain thick, white clouds — for such they seemed to me — which filled all that part of the valley that was before us. This indeed was an error of mine ; but it continued not long, for coming nearer I found them to be firm, solid rocks but shining and sparkling like diamonds. This rare and goodly sight did not a little encourage me, and great desire I had to hear my mistress speak — for so I judged her now — that if possible I might receive some information. How to bring this about I did not well know, for she seemed averse from discourse. But having resolved with myself to disturb her, I asked her if she would favour me with her name. To this she replied very familiarly, as if she had known me long before.

"Eugenius" — said she — "I have many names, but my best and dearest is Thalia, for I am always green and shall never wither. Thou dost here behold the Mountains of the Moon, and I will shew thee the original of Nilus ; for she springs from these invisible rocks. Look up and peruse the very tops of these pillars and cliffs of salt, for they are the true, philosophical, lunar mountains. Did'st thou ever see such a miraculous, incredible thing ? "

This speech made me quickly look up to those glittering turrets of salt, where I could see a stupendous cataract or waterfall. The stream was more large than any river in her full channel ; but notwithstanding the height and violence of its fall it descended without any noise. The waters were dashed and their current distracted by those saltish rocks ; but for all this they came down with a dead silence — like the still, soft air. Some of this liquor — for it ran by me — I took up, to see what strange woollen substance it was that did thus steal down like snow. When I had it in my hands it was no common water but a certain kind of oil of a watery complexion. A viscous, fat, mineral nature it was, bright like pearls and transparent like crystal. When I had viewed and searched it well, it appeared somewhat spermatic, and in very truth it was obscene to the sight but much more to the touch. Hereupon Thalia told me it was the First Matter and the very natural, true sperm of the great world. "It is" — said she — "invisible and therefore few are they that find it ; but many believe it is "not to be found. They believe indeed that the world is a dead figure, like a body which hath been sometime made and fashioned by that spirit which dwelt in it, but retains that very shape and fashion for some short time after that the spirit hath forsaken it. They should rather consider that every frame, when the soul hath left it, doth decompose and can no longer retain its former figure ; for the agent that held and kept the parts together is gone. Most excellent then is that speech which I heard some time from one of my own pupils. "This world" — saith he — "of such divers and contrary parts, would not have reached unity of form had there not been One who did join together such contrary things. But, being brought together, the very diversity of the natures joined, fighting one with another, had discomposed and separated them, unless there had been One to hold and keep those parts together which He at first did join. Verily the order of Nature could not proceed with such certainty, neither could she move so regularly in several places, times, effects and qualities, unless there were Some One Who disposed and ordered these varieties of motions. This, whatsoever it is, by which the world is preserved and governed, I call by that usual name God.'

" Thou must therefore, Eugenius " — said she — " understand that all compositions are made by an Active, Intelligent Life ; for what was done in the composure of the great world in general, the same is performed in the generation of every creature, and its sperm in particular. I suppose thou dost know that water cannot be contained but in some vessel. The natural vessel which God hath appointed for it is the earth. In earth water may be thickened and brought to a figure ; but of itself, and without earth, it hath an indefinite flux and is subject to no certain figure whatsoever. Air also is a fleeting and indeterminate substance, but water is his vessel ; for water being figured by means of earth the air also is thickened and figured in the water. To ascend higher, the air coagulates the liquid fire, and fire incorporated involves and confines the thin light. These are the means by which God unites and compounds the elements into a sperm, for the earth alters the complexion of the water, and makes it viscous and slimy. Such a water must they seek who would produce any magical, extraordinary effects ; for this spermatic water coagulates with the least heat, so that Nature concocts and hardens it into metals. Thou seest the whites of eggs will thicken as soon as they feel the fire ; for their moisture is tempered with a pure, subtle earth, and this subtle, animated earth is that which binds their water. Take water then, my Eugenius, from the Mountains of the Moon, which is water and no water. Boil it in the fire of Nature to a twofold earth, white and red ; then feed those earths with air of fire and fire of air; and thou hast the two magical luminaries. But because thou hast been a servant of mine for a long time, and that thy patience hath manifested the truth of thy love, I will bring thee to my school, and there will I shew thee what the world is not capable of."

This was no sooner spoken but she passed by those diamond-like, rocky salts and brought me to a rock of adamant, figured to a just, entire cube. It was the basis to a fiery pyramid, a trigon of pure pyrope, whose imprisoned flames did stretch and strive for heaven. To the four-square of the frontlet of this rock was annexed a little portal and in that hung a tablet. It was a painted hedgehog, so rolled and wrapt up in his bag he could not easily be discomposed. Over this stood a dog snarling and hard by him this instruction : Softly, or he pricks. In we went, and having entered the rocks, the interior parts were of a heavenly, smaragdine colour. Somewhere they shined like leaves of pure gold, and then appeared a third inexpressible, purple tincture. We had not gone very far but we came to an ancient, majestic altar. On the offertory, or very top of it, was figured the trunk of an old rotten tree, plucked up by the roots. Out of this crept a snake — of colour white and green — slow of motion like a snail and very weak, having but newly felt the sun that overlooked her. Towards the foot or basis of this altar was an inscription in old Egyptian hieroglyphics which Thalia expounded, and this is it :

TO THE BLESSED GODS IN THE UNDERWORLD N. L. T. a. i>. .

From this place we moved straight forward till we came to a cave of earth. It was very obscure and withal dankish, giving a heavy odour — like that of graves. Here we stayed not long, but passing this churchyard we came at last to the Sanctuary, where Thalia turning to me made this her short and last speech.

" Eugenius, this is the place which many have desired to see, but saw it not. The preparatives to their admission here were wanting. They did not love me but mine. They coveted indeed the riches of Nature, but Nature herself they did both neglect and corrupt. Some advantages they had in point of assault, had they but studied their opportunities. I was exposed to their hands but they knew me not. I was subject in some measure to their violence, but He that made me would not suffer me to be rifled. In a word, the ruin of these men was built on their disposition. In their addresses to me they resembled those pitiful things which some call courtiers. These have their antics and raunts, as if they had been trained amongst apes. They scrape — as one hath well expressed it — proportions mathematical, make strange legs and faces, and in that phrase of the same poet

'Vary their mouths as 'twere by magic spell
To figures oval, square, and triangle.'

So these impudent sophisters assaulted me with vainglorious humours. When I looked into their hearts there was no room for me. They were full of proud thoughts and dreamed of a certain riotous happiness which must be maintained by my expenses and treasures. In the interim they did not consider that I was plain and simple, one that did not love noise but a private, sweet content. I have, Eugenius, found thee much of my own humour. I have withal found thy expectations patient. Thou canst easily believe where thou hast reason to thy faith. Thou hast all this while served without wages : now is the time come to reward thce. My love I freely give thee, and with it these tokens — my key and seal. The one shuts, the other opens : be sure to use both with discretion. As for the mysteries of this my school, thou hast the liberty to peruse them all ; there is not anything here but I will gladly reveal it to thee. I have one precept that I shall commend to thee, and this is it : you must be silent. You shall not in your writings exceed my allowances. Remember that I am your love, and you will not make me a prostitute. But because I wish you serviceable to those of your own disposition, I here give you an emblematical type of my Sanctuary, with a full privilege to publish it. This is all, and I am now going to that invisible region where is the abode of the immortals. Let not that proverb take place with you : Out of sight, out of mind. Remember me and be happy."

These were her instructions, which were no sooner delivered but she brought me to a clear, large light ; and here I saw those things which I must not speak of. Having thus discovered all the parts of that glorious labyrinth, she did lead me out again with her clue of sunbeams — her light that went shining before us. When we were past the rocks of Nilus she shewed me a secret staircase, by which we ascended from that deep and flowery vale to the face of this our common earth. Here Thalia stopped in a mute ceremony, for I was to be left all alone. She looked upon me in silent smiles, mixed with a pretty kind of sadness, for we were unwilling to part. But her hour of translation was come, and taking — as I thought — our last leave, she passed before my eyes unto the eternal, into the ether of Nature.

Now verily was I much troubled and somewhat disordered ; but composing myself as well as I could I came to a cop of myrtles, where resting myself on a flowery bank I began to consider those things which I had seen. This solitude and melancholy study continued not long, for it met with a very grateful interruption. I could see Thalia — as it were — at the end of a landscape, somewhat far off; but in a moment she was in the myrtles, where, seating herself hard by me, I received from her this discourse.

" I would not, Eugenius, have thee ignorant of the unity and concentration of sciences. In the past and more knowing years of the world, when magic was better and more generally understood, the professors of this art divided it into three parts — elemental, celestial and spiritual. The elemental part contained all the secrets of physic, the celestial those of astrology and the spiritual those of Divinity. Every one of these by itself was but a branch or limb, but being united all three they were the pandects of the science. Now in these thy days there is no man can shew thee any real physic or astrology ; neither have they any more than a tongue and book Divinity. The reason of it is this : in process of time these three sciences — which work no wonders without a mutual, essential union — were by misinterpretation dismembered and set apart, so that every one of them was held to be a faculty by itself. Now God had united these three in one natural subject, but man he separated them and placed them in no subject, but in his own brain, where they remained in words and fancy, not in substantial elements and verity. In this state the sciences were dead and ineffectual ; they yielded nothing but noise, for they were separated — as if thou shouldst dismember a man and then expect some one part of him should perform those actions which the whole did when he was alive.

" Thou dost know by very natural experience that out of one specifical root there grow several different substances, as leaves, flowers, fruit and seed. So out of one universal root — namely, the chaos — grow all specifical natures and their individuals. Now there is no true science or knowledge ! but what is grounded upon sensible, particular substances, or upon the sensible,

universal substance, out of which all particulars are made. As for universals in the abstract, there are no such things ; they are empty, imaginary whimsies, for abstractions are but so many fantastic suppositions. Consider now, Eugenius, that all individuals, even man himself, hath nothing in him materially but what he received from the material, universal Nature. Consider again that the same individuals are reducible to their first physical universal matter, and by consequence this universal matter hath in itself the secrets and mysteries of all particulars ; for whatsoever includes the subject itself includes the science of that subject. In the First Matter the Divine Wisdom is collected in a general chaotical centre, but in the particulars made of the First Matter it is dispersed and spread out, as it were, to a circumference. It remains then that the chaos is the centre of all sciences, to which they may and ought to be reduced, for it is the sensible, natural Mysterium. Magnum and under God the secondary Temple of Wisdom. Search therefore and examine the parts of this chaos by the rules and instructions received when I was with thee in the mineral region. Dwell not altogether on the practice, for that is not the way to improve it. Be sure to add reason to thy experience and to employ thy mind as well as thy hands. Labour to know all causes and their effects : do not only study the receipt, like that broiling, frying company, who call themselves chemists but are indeed no philosophers.

" This is all which I think fit to add to my former prescriptions ; but that which made me return was something else, and now thou shalt receive it. Thou hast heard sometimes, I suppose, of the beryllistic part of magic : I have a care to apprehend me, and I will shew thee the foundation. Thou must know the stars can impress no new influx in perfect, complete bodies ; they only dispose and in some measure stir up that influence which hath been formerly impressed. It is most certain, Eugenius, that no astrobolism takes place without some previous corruption and alteration in the patient, for Nature works not but in loose, moist, discomposed elements. This distemper proceeds not from the stars but from the contrariety of the elements amongst themselves. Whensoever they fall out and work their own dissolution, then the celestial fire puts in to reconcile them again and generates some new form, seeing the old one could consist no longer. Observe then that the genuine time of impressions is when the principles are spermatic and callow ; but being once coagulated to a perfect body the time of stellification is past. Now the ancient Magi in their books speak of strange astrological lamps, images, rings and plates, which being used at certain hours would produce incredible, extraordinary effects. The common astrologer he takes a stone, or some piece of metal, figures it with ridiculous characters and then exposeth it to the planets, not in an alkemusi but as he dreams himself — he knows not how. When this is done, all is to no purpose ; but though they fail in their practice yet they believe they understand the books of the Magi well enough. Now, Eugenius, that thou mayst know what to do, I will teach thee by example. Take a ripe grain of corn that is hard and dry ; expose it to the sunbeams in a glass, or any other vessel, and it will be a dry grain for ever. But if thou dost bury it in the earth, that the nitrous, saltish moisture of that element may dissolve it, then the sun will work upon it and make it spring and sprout to a new body. It is just thus with the common astrologer : he exposeth to the planets a perfect, compacted body and by this means thinks to perform the magician's Gamatea, and marry the inferior and superior worlds. It must be a body reduced into sperm, that the heavenly, feminine moisture, which receives and retains the impress of the astral agent, may be at liberty and immediately exposed to the masculine fire of Nature. This is the ground of the Beryl ; but you must remember that nothing can be stellified without the joint magnetism of three heavens. What they are I have told you elsewhere, and I will not trouble you with repetitions."

When she had thus said she took out of her bosom two miraculous medals — not metalline but such as I had never seen, neither did I conceive there were in Nature such pure and glorious substances. In my judgment they were two magical Astrolasms, but she called them sapphirics of the sun and moon. These miracles she commended to my perusal, excusing herself as being sleepy : otherwise she had expounded them for me. I looked, admired and wearied myself in their contemplation. Their complexion was so heavenly, their contrivance so mysterious I did not well know what to make of them. I turned aside to see if she was still asleep but she was gone, and this did not a little trouble me. I expected her return till the day was quite spent, but she did not appear. At last, fixing my eyes on that place where she sometimes rested, I discovered certain pieces of gold which she had left behind her, and hard by a paper folded like a letter. These I took up and now — the night approaching — the evening star tinned in the West, when taking my last survey of her flowery pillow I parted from it in this verse.

Pretty green bank, farewell, and mayst thou wear
Sunbeams and rose and lilies all the year.
She slept on thee but needed not to shed
Her gold ; 'twas pay enough to be her bed.
Thy flowers are favourites ; for this loved day
They were my rivals and with her did play.
They found their heaven at hand and in her eyes
Enjoy'd a copy of their absent skies.
Their weaker paint did with true glories trade
And — mingled with her cheeks — one posy made.
And did not her soft skin confine their pride
And with a screen of silk both flowers divide,
They had suck'd life from thence and from her heat
Borrow'd a soul to make themselves complete.

O happy pillow, though thou art laid even
With dust, she made thee up almost a heaven.
Her breath rained spices, and each amber ring
Of her bright locks strew'd bracelets o'er thy spring.
That earth's not poor did such a treasure hold
But thrice enrich'd with amber, spice and gold.

This is that emblematical, magical type which Thalia delivered to me in the invisible Guiana. The first and superior part of it represents the Mountains of the Moon.

The philosophers commonly call them the Mountains of India, on whose tops grows their secret and famous Lunaria. It is an herb easy to be found but that men are blind ; for it discovers itself and shines after night like pearl. The earth of these Mountains is very red, and soft beyond all expression. It is full of crystalline rocks, which the philosophers call their glass and their stone. Birds and fish — say they — bring it to them. Of these Mountains speaks Hali the Arabian, a most excellent, judicious author. " Go, my son, to the Mountains of India and to their quarries or caverns, and take thence our precious stones, which dissolve or melt in water when they are mingled therewith." Much indeed might be spoken concerning these mountains, if it were lawful to publish their mysteries : but one thing I shall not forbear to tell you. They are very dangerous places after night, for they are haunted with fires and other strange apparitions, occasioned — as I am told by the Magi — by certain spirits which dabble lasciviously with the sperm of the world and imprint their imaginations in it, producing many times fantastic and monstrous generations. The access and pilgrimage to this place, with the difficulties which attend them, are faithfully and magisterially described by the Brothers of R. C. Their language indeed is very simple, and with most men perhaps contemptible. But to speak finely was no part of their design ; their learning lies not in the phrase but in the sense ; and that it is which I propose to the consideration of the reader.

II. A Letter from the Brothers of R.C. Concerning the Invisible, Magical Mountain and the Treasure Therein Contained

Every man naturally desires a superiority, to have treasures of gold and silver, and to seem great in the eyes of the world. God indeed created all things for the use of man, that he might rule over them and acknowledge therein the singular goodness and omnipotence of God, give Him thanks for His benefits, honour Him and praise Him. But there is no man looks after these things otherwise than by spending his days idly. They would enjoy them without any previous labour and danger ; neither do they look them out of that place where God hath treasured them up, Who expects also that man should seek for them there, and to those that seek will He give them. But there is not any that labours for a possession in that place, and therefore these riches are not found. For the way to this place — and the place itself — hath been unknown for a long time, and it is hidden from the greatest part of the world. But notwithstanding it be difficult and laborious to find out this way and place, yet the place should be sought after. But it is not the will of God to conceal anything from those that are His ; and therefore in this last age — before the final judgment comes — all these things shall be manifested to those that are worthy. As He Himself — though obscurely, lest it should be manifested to the unworthy — hath spoken in a certain place : " There is nothing covered that shall not be re

vealed and hidden that shall not be known." We therefore, being moved by the Spirit of God, do declare the will of God to the world, which we have also already performed and published in several languages. But most men either revile or contemn that our MANIFESTO, or else — waiving the Spirit of God — they expect the proposals thereof from us, supposing we will straightway teach them how to make gold by art, or furnish them with ample treasures, whereby they may live pompously in the face of the world, swagger and make wars, turn usurers, gluttons and drunkards, live unchastely and defile their whole life with several other sins — all which things are contrary to the blessed will of God. These men should have learnt from those ten Virgins — whereof five that were foolish demanded oil for their lamps from those five that were wise 3 — how that the case is much otherwise. It is expedient that every man should labour for this treasure by the assistance of God and his own particular search and industry. But the perverse intentions of these fellows we understand out of their own writings, by the singular grace and revelation of God. We do stop our ears and wrap ourselves, as it were, in clouds to avoid the bellowings and howlings of those men who in vain cry out for gold. And hence indeed it comes to pass that they brand us with infinite calumnies and slanders, which notwithstanding we do not resent ; but God in His good time will judge them for it. But after that we had well known — though unknown to you — and perceived by your writing how diligent you are to peruse the Holy Scripture and seek the true knowledge of God ; we have also above a many thousands thought you worthy of some answer ; and we signify this much to you by the will of God and the admonition of the Holy Ghost. There is a mountain situated in the midst of the earth or centre of the world which is both small and great. It is soft, also above measure hard and stony. It is far off and near at hand, but by the providence of God invisible. In it are hidden most ample treasures, which the world is not able to value. This mountain — by envy of the devil, who always opposeth the glory of God and the happiness of man — is compassed about with very cruel beasts and other ravening birds — which make the way thither both difficult and dangerous. And therefore hitherto — because the time is not yet come — the way thither could not be sought after nor found out. But now at last the way is to be found by those that are worthy — but notwithstanding by every man's self-labour and endeavours.

To this Mountain you shall go in a certain night — when it comes — most long and most dark, and see that you prepare yourselves by prayer. Insist upon the way that leads to the Mountain, but ask not of any man where the way lies. Only follow your Guide, who will offer himself to you and will meet you in the way. But you shall not know him. This Guide will bring you to the Mountain at midnight, when all things are silent and dark. It is necessary that you arm yourselves with a resolute, heroic courage, lest you fear those things that will happen and so fall back. You need no sword nor any other bodily weapons : only call upon God sincerely and heartily. When you have discovered the Mountain the first miracle that will appear is this : A most vehement and very great wind that will shake the Mountain and shatter the rocks to pieces. You shall be encountered also by lions and dragons and other terrible beasts ; but fear not any of these things. Be resolute and take heed that you return not, for your Guide — who brought you thither — will not suffer any evil to befal you. As for the treasure, it is not yet discovered ; but it is very near. After this wind will come an earthquake that will overthrow those things which the wind hath left and make all flat. But be sure that you fall not off. The earthquake being past, there shall follow a fire that will consume the earthly rubbish and discover the treasure. But as yet you cannot see it. After all these things and near the daybreak there shall be a great calm ; and you shall see the Day-Star arise and the dawning will appear and you shall perceive a great treasure. The chiefest thing in it and the most perfect is a certain exalted Tincture, with which the world — if it served God and were worthy of such gifts — -might be tinged and turned into most pure. gold.

This Tincture being used as your Guide shall teach you will make you young when you are old, and you shall perceive no disease in any part of your bodies. By means of this Tincture also you shall find pearls of that excellency which cannot be imagined. But do not you arrogate anything to yourselves because of your present power ; but be contented with that which your Guide shall communicate to you. Praise God perpetually for this His gift, and have a special care that you use it not for worldly pride ; l but employ it in such works which are contrary to the world. Use it rightly and enjoy it so as if you had it not. Live a temperate life and beware of all sin : otherwise your Guide will forsake you and you shall be deprived of this happiness. For know this of a truth : whosoever abuseth this Tincture and lives not exemplarly, purely and devoutly before men, he shall lose this benefit and scarce any hope will there be left ever to recover it afterwards.

Thus have they described unto us the Mount of God, the mystical, philosophical Horeb — which is nothing else but the highest and purest part of the earth. For the superior, secret portion of this element is holy ground, and Aristotle tells his Peripatetics that "wheresoever is that which is higher there also is that which is more divine." It is the seed-plot of the Eternal Nature, the immediate vessel and recipient of heaven, where all minerals and vegetables have their roots and by which the animal monarchy is maintained. This philosophical black Saturn mortifies and coagulates the invisible Mercury of the stars ; and — on the contrary — the Mercury kills and dissolves the Saturn ; and out of the corruption of both the central and circumferential suns generate a new body. Hence the philosophers describing their Stone tell us that it is a black, vile and fetid Stone, and it is called the origin of the world and it springs up like germinating things. As for the EPISTLE of the Fraternity

I have for satisfaction of the ordinary reader put it into English. I know some doctors will think it no advantage, but then they confess their ignorance. I can assure them the subject is nowhere so clearly discovered ; and for the first abstruse preparation there is no private author hath mentioned it, but here we have it entirely and withal most faithfully described. I confess indeed their instruction wears a mask, but very plain and pervious.

This much we have from these famous and most Christian philosophers, men questionless that have suffered much by their own discreet silence and solitude. Every sophister contemns them because they appear not to the world and concludes there is no such Society because he is not a member of it. There is scarce a reader so just as to consider upon what grounds they conceal themselves and come not to the stage when every fool cries : Enter. No man looks after them but for worldly ends, and truly if the Art itself did not promise gold I am confident it would find but few followers. How many are there in the world that study Nature to know God ? Certainly they study a receipt for their purses, not for their souls, nor in any good sense for their bodies. It is fit then they should be left to their ignorance, as to their cure. It may be the nullity of their expectations will reform them ; but as long as they continue in this humour neither God nor good men will assist them.

The inferior part of this type presents a dark circle, charged with many strange chimaeras and Aristotle's Tragelaphos — that metaphysical beast of the schoolmen. It signifies the innumerous conceited whimsies and airy, roving imaginations of man. For before we attain to the truth we are subject to a thousand fancies, fictions and apprehensions, which we falsely suppose and many times publicly propose for the truth itself. This fantastic region is the true, original seminary of all sects and their dissensions. Hence came the despairing sceptic, the loose epicure, the hypocritical stoic and the atheous peripatetic ; hence also their several digladiations about Nature — whether the First Matter be fire, air, earth or water, or a fry of imaginary atoms, all which are false and fabulous suppositions. If we look on religion and the diversities thereof, whence proceeded the present heresies and schisms but from the different erroneous apprehensions of men ? Indeed whiles we follow our own fancies and build on bottomless, unsettled imaginations we must needs wander and grope in the dark, like those that are blindfolded. On the contrary, if we lay the line to our thoughts and examine them by experience, we are in the way to be infallible, for we take hold of that rule which God hath proposed for our direction. In vain hath He made Nature if we dwell on our own conceptions and make no use of her principles. It were a happy necessity if our thoughts could not vary from her ways. But certainly for us to think that we can find truth by mere contemplation without experience is as great a madness as if a man should shut his eyes from the sun and then believe he can travel directly from London to Grand Cairo by fancying himself in the right way, without the assistance of the light. It is true that no man enters the Magical School but he wanders first in this region of chimaeras, for the inquiries which we make before we attain to experimental truths are most of them erroneous. Howsoever, we should be so rational and patient in our disquisitions as not imperiously to obtrude and force them upon the world before we are able to verify them.

I ever approved that regular and solid speech of Basil Valentine : "Be advised, therefore, my wrangler, and seek with thine own eyes, even thy very hand, that first foundation which Nature holds hidden within her : so only shalt thou be able to reason with judgment wisely and build upon the impregnable rock. Apart from this thou must remain a vacant and fantastic trifler, whose argument in the absence of experience shall be rooted in sand alone. On the other hand, the man who would teach me anything by rhetorical figures and trifles should know that he can in no wise satisfy me with empty words, for it is indispensable that proof drawn from the fact of experience be also at hand." And in another place : " I value not the trifler who speaks otherwise than from his proper experience, for his discourse has the same foundation as the judgment of a blind man about colours." Questionless, all this was the breath of a true philosopher — one that studied not the names but the natures of things. I oppose it as battery to the schoolmen : if they will needs muster their syllogisms, I expect also they should confirm their noise by their experience.

Within this fantastic circle stands a Lamp, and it typifies the Light of Nature. This is the Secret Candle of God, which He hath tinned in the elements : it burns and is not seen, for it shines in a dark place. Lumen de Lumine

Every natural body is a kind of black lantern ; it carries this Candle within it, but the light appears not : it is eclipsed with the grossness of the matter. The effects of this Light are apparent in all things ; but the light itself is denied, or else not followed. The great world hath the sun for his life and candle ; according to the absence and presence of this fire all things in the world flourish or wither. We know by experience — and this in our own bodies — that as long as life lasts there is a continual coction, a certain seething or boiling within us. This makes us sweat and expire in perpetual defluxions at the pores ; and if we lay our hands to our skin we can feel our own heat, which must needs proceed from an enclosed fire or light. All vegetables grow and augment themselves ; they put forth their fruits and flowers, which could not be if some heat did not stir up and alter the matter. We see, moreover, that in vegetables this light is sometimes discovered to the eye, as it appears in rotten wood, where the star-fire shines after night. As for minerals, their first matter is coagulated by this fiery spirit and altered from one complexion to another, to which may be added this truth for manifestation : if the mineral principles be artificially dissolved — that their fire and spirit may be at liberty — even metals themselves may be made vegetable. This fire or light is nowhere to be found in such abundance and purity as in that subject which the Arabians call Halicali, from Hali = Summum and Calop = Honum ; but the Latin authors corruptly write it Sal Alkali. This substance is the catholic receptacle of spirits. It is blessed and impregnated with light from above and was therefore styled by the magicians " a Sealed House, full of light and divinity." But to proceed in the exposition of our type : not far from this Lamp you may observe the Angel or Genius of the place. In one hand he bears a sword, to keep off the contentious and unworthy ; in the other a clue of thread, to lead in the humble and harmless. Under the altar lies the green dragon, or the magician's Mercury, involving in itself a treasure of gold and pearl. This is neither dream nor fancy, but a known, demonstrable, practical truth. The treasure is there to be found, infinitely rich and real. Indeed we must confess it is enchanted and that by the very art and magic of the Almighty God. It can neither be seen nor felt, but the cabinet that holds it is every day under our feet. On this treasure sits a little child, with this inscription : Except to one of these little ones. It tells us how they should be qualified who desire to be admitted to this place. They must be innocent and very humble — not impudent, proud ranters nor covetous, uncharitable misers. They must be affable, not contentious ; they must love the truth and — to speak in a homely phrase — they must also, like children and fools, speak the truth. In a word, they must be as our Saviour Himself hath said — "like one of these little ones."

This is the sum of that magical emblem which Thalia communicated to me in the mineral region. More I cannot say of it, for I was not trusted with more in relation to a public and popular use. I will now proceed to a discovery of some other mysteries which I received from her — and those such as are not commonly sought after. The basis of them all is the visible, tangible quintessence, or the first created unity, out of which the physical tetractys did spring. I shall speak of them not in a cast, artificial discourse and method, but in their own natural, harmonical order, and first of all of the First Matter.

III. The First Matter

When 1 seriously consider the system or fabric of this world I find it to be a certain series, a link or chain which is extended from unconditioned to unconditioned, from that which is beneath all apprehension to that which is above all apprehension. That which is beneath all degrees of sense is a certain horrible, inexpressible darkness. The magicians call it active darkness, and the effect of it in Nature is cold, etc. For darkness is the visage of cold — the complexion, body and matrix of cold —as light is the face, principle and fountain of heat. That which is above all degree of intelligence is a certain infinite, inaccessible fire or light. Dionysius calls it Divine Darkness, because it is invisible and incomprehensible. The Jew styles it Ayin 6 — but in a relative sense or, as the schoolmen express it, " in respect of us." In plain terms, it is unveiled Deity apart from all vesture. The middle substance or chain between these two is that which we commonly call Nature. This is the Scala of the great Chaldee which doth reach from the subternatural darkness to the supernatural fire. These middle natures came out of a certain water, which was the sperm or First Matter of the great world. And now we will begin to describe it : Let him receive who can. It is in plain terms "dissolved and flowing water," or rather it is something melted, that is a solution of earth, a certain plasticity of earth, an exceedingly soft, moist, fusible, flowing earth — an earth of wax that is capable of all forms and impressions. It is Son of the Earth, mixed with Water, and — to speak as the nature of the thing requires — mixed earth and marriage of earth. The learned alchemist defines it as divine and living silver, an union of spirit in matter. It is a divine, animated mass, of complexion somewhat like silver, the union of masculine and feminine spirits, the quintessence of four, the ternary of two and the tetract of one. These are his generations, physical and metaphysical. The thing itself is a world without form, neither mere power nor perfect action, but a weak virgin substance, a certain soft, prolific Venus, the very love and seed, the mixture and moisture of heaven and earth. This moisture is the mother of all things in the world ; and the masculine, sulphureous fire of the earth is their father. Now the Jews — who without controversy were the wisest of nations — when they discourse of the generation of metals tell us it is performed in this manner. The Mercury or mineral liquor — say they — is altogether cold and passive, and it lies in certain earthy, subterraneous caverns.® But when I the sun ascends in the East his beams and heat, falling on this hemisphere, stir up and fortify the inward heat of the earth. Thus we see in winter weather that the outward heat of the sun excites the inward, natural warmth of our bodies and cherisheth the blood when it is almost cold and frozen. Now then, the central heat of the earth, being stirred and seconded by the circumferential heat of the sun, works upon the Mercury and sublimes it in a thin vapour to the top of its cell or cavern. But towards night, when the sun sets in the West, the heat of the earth — because of the absence of that great luminary — grows weak and the cold prevails, so that the vapours of the Mercury, which were formerly sublimed, are now condensed and distil in drops to the bottom of their cavern. But the night being spent, the sun again comes about to the East and sublimes the moisture as formerly. This sublimation and condensation continue so long till the Mercury takes up the subtle, sulphureous parts of the earth and is incorporated therewith, so that this sulphur coagulates the Mercury and fixes him at last, that he will not sublime but lies still in a ponderous lump and is concocted to a perfect metal.

Take notice then that our Mercury cannot be coagulated without our sulphur, for " the Dragon dieth not apart from his fellow." It is water that dissolves and putrefies earth, and earth that thickens and putrefies water. You must therefore take two principles to produce a third agent, according to that dark receipt of Hali the Arabian. " Take" — saith he — " the Corascene dog and the bitch of Armenia. Put them both together and they will bring thee a sky-coloured whelp." This sky-coloured whelp is that sovereign, admired and famous Mercury known by the name of the philosopher's Mercury. Now, for my part, I advise thee to take two living Mercuries ; plant them in a purified, mineral Saturn ; wash them and feed them with water of salt vegetable ; and thou shalt see that speech of the Adeptus verified : " The mother shall bring forth a budding flower, which she will nurture at her own milky breast and, being helped by the father, will turn herself into food for it utterly." But the process or receipt is no part of my design, wherefore I will return to the First Matter ; and I say it is no kind of water whatsoever. Reader, if it be thy desire to attain to the truth, rely upon my words, for I speak the truth, and I am no deceiver. The mother or First Matter of metals is a certain watery substance, neither very water nor very earth, but a third thing compounded of both and retaining the complexion of neither. To this agrees the learned Valentine in his apposite and genuine description of our sperm. " The First Matter " — saith he — " is a waterish substance found dry, or of such a complexion that wets not the hand — and nothing like to any other matter whatsoever " Another excellent and well-experienced philosopher defines it thus. " It is " — saith he — " an earthy water and a watery earth, mingled with earth in the belly of the earth ; and the spirit and influences of heaven commix themselves therewith." ; Indeed it cannot be denied but some authors have named this substance by the names of all ordinary waters, not to deceive the simple but to hide it from the ranting, ill-disposed crew. On the contrary, some have expressly and faithfully informed us it is no common water, and especially the reverend Turba. " The ignorant " — saith Agadmon — " when they hear us name water, think it is water of the clouds ; but if they understood our books they should know it to be a permanent or fixed water which, without its companion — to which it hath been united —cannot be permanent." The noble and knowing Sendivogius tells us the very same thing : " Our water is a heavenly water, which wets not the hand, not that of the common man but almost, or as it were, pluvial." We must therefore consider the several analogies and similitudes of things, or we shall never be able to understand the philosophers.

This Water then wets not the hand, which is notion enough to persuade us it can be no common water. It is a metalline, bitter, saltish liquor. It hath a true mineral complexion. " It hath " — saith Raymund Lully — " the likeness of the sun and moon, and in such water it hath appeared to us, not in spring or rain water." But in another place he describes it more fully. " It is a dry water, not water of the clouds or phlegmatic water, but a choleric water, more hot than fire." It is, moreover, greenish to the sight, and the same Lully tells you so. " It looks " — saith he — " like a green lizard." But the most prevalent colour in it is a certain inexpressible azure, like the body of heaven in a clear day. It looks in truth like the belly of a snake, especially near the neck, where the scales have a deep blue tincture ; and this is why the philosophers called it their serpent and their dragon. The predominant element in it is a certain fiery, subtle earth, and from this prevalent part the best philosophers have denominated the whole compound. Paracelsus names it openly but in one place, and he calls it viscum terrae the slime or viscous part of the earth. Raymund Lully describeth the crisis or constitution of it in these words : " The substance of our Stone " — saith he — " is altogether fat or viscous and impregnated with fire " — in which respect he calls it elsewhere "not water but earth." " Take our earth " — saith he — " which is impregnated or with child by the sun ; for it is our precious Stone which is found in desolate houses, and there is shut up in it a great secret and a treasure enchanted." And again, in a certain place, he delivers himself thus : " My son " — saith he — " the First Matter is a subtle, sulphureous earth, and this noble earth is called the mercurial subject." Know then for certain that this slimy, moist sperm or earth must be dissolved into water, and this is the Water of the Philosophers — not any common water whatsoever. This is the grand secret of the Art, and Lully discovers it with a great deal of honesty and charity. "Our Mercury" — saith he — "is not common Mercury or quicksilver. But our Mercury is a water which cannot be found on earth, for it is not made or manifested by the ordinary course of Nature, but by the art and manual operations of man." Seek not then for that in Nature which is an effect beyond her ordinary process. You must help her, that she may exceed her common course, or all is to no purpose. In a word, you must make this water before you can find it. In the interim you must permit the philosophers to call their subject or chaos a water, for there is no proper name for it — unless we call it a sperm, which is a watery substance but certainly no water. Let it suffice that you are not cheated, for they tell you what it is and what it is not, which is all that man can do. If I ask you by what name you call the sperm of a chick you will tell me it is the white of an egg, and truly so is the shell as well as the sperm that is within it. But if you call it earth or water, you know well enough it is neither ; and yet you cannot find a third name. Judge then as you would be judged, for this is the very case of the philosophers. Certainly you must be very unreasonable if you expect that language from men which God hath not given them. Now that we may confirm this our theory and discourse of the sperm not only by experience but by reason, it is necessary that we consider the qualities and temperament of the sperm. It is then a slimy, slippery, diffusive moisture. But if we consider any perfect products, they are firm, compacted, figurated bodies ; and hence it follows they must be made of something that is not firm, not compacted, not figurated, but a weak, quivering, altering substance. Questionless thus it must be, unless we make the sperm to be of the same complexion with the body ; and then it must follow that generation is no alteration. Again, it is evident to all the world that nothing is so passive as moisture. The least heat turns water to a vapour and the least cold turns that vapour to water. Now let us consider what degree of heat it is that acts in all generations, for by the agent we may guess at the nature of the patient. We know the sun is so remote from us that the heat of it — as daily experience tells us— is very faint and remiss. I desire then to know what subject is there in all Nature that can be altered with such a weak heat but moisture ? Certainly none at all ; for all hard bodies — as salts, stones and metals — preserve and retain their complexions in the most violent, excessive fires. How then can we expect they should be altered by a gentle and almost insensible warmth ? It is plain then — and that by infallible inference from the proportion and power of the agent — that moisture must needs be the patient. For that degree of heat which Nature makes use of in her generations is so remiss and weak it is impossible for it to alter anything but what is moist and waterish. This truth appears in the animal family, where we know well enough the sperms are moist. Indeed in vegetables the seeds are dry, but then Nature generates nothing out of them till they are first macerated or moistened with water. And here, my Peripatetic, thou art quite gone and with thee thy pure potency, that fanatic chaos of the son of Nichomachus.

But I must advise my chemists to beware of any common moisture, for that will never be altered otherwise than to a vapour. See therefore that thy moisture be well tempered with earth ; otherwise thou hast nothing to dissolve and nothing to coagulate. Remember the practice and magic of Almighty God in His creation, as it is manifested to thee by Moses. " In the beginning " — saith he — " God created heaven and earth." • But the original — if it be truly and rationally rendered — speaks thus : " In the beginning God mingled or tempered together the thin and the thick." For heaven and earth

in this text — as we have told you in our ANIMA MAGICA — signify the Virgin Mercury and the Virgin Sulphur. This I will prove out of the text itself, and that by the vulgar, received translation, which runs thus : "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form and void ; and darkness was upon the face of the abyss. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." In the first part of this text Moses mentions two created principles— not a perfect world, as we shall prove hereafter — and this he doth in these general terms, heaven and earth. In the latter part of it he describes each of these principles in more particular terms, and he begins with the earth. " And the earth " — saith he — " was without form and void." Hence I infer that the earth he speaks of was a mere rudiment or principle of this earth which I now see ; for this present earth is neither void nor without form. I conclude then that the Mosaical earth was the Virgin Sulphur, which is an earth without form, for it hath no determinated figure. It is a laxative, unstable, incomposed substance, of a porous, empty crasis, like sponge or soot. In a word, I have seen it, but it is impossible to describe it. After this he proceeds to the description of his heaven or second principle in these subsequent words : " And darkness was upon the face of the abyss. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." Here he calls that an abyss and waters which he formerly called heaven. It was indeed the heavenly moisture or water of the chaos, out of which the separated heaven or habitation of the stars was afterwards made. This is clear out of the original, for D^DH = Hamaim and D^ottn = Hashamaim are the same words, like Aqua and Ibi Aqua^ and they signify one and the same substance, namely, water. The text then being rendered according to the primitive natural truth and the undoubted sense of the author speaks thus : " In the beginning " — or, according to the Jerusalem Targum, in wisdom — " God made the water and the earth. And the earth was without form and void ; and there was darkness upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." Here you should observe that God created two principles, earth and water, and of these two He compounded a third, namely, the sperm or chaos. Upon the water — or moist part of this sperm — the Spirit of God did move ; and — saith the Scripture — " there was darkness upon the face of the deep." This is a very great secret ; neither is it lawful to publish it expressly and as the nature of the thing requires ; but in the magical work it is to be seen, and I have been an eye-witness of it myself. To conclude : remember that our subject is no common water, but a thick, slimy, fat earth. This earth must be dissolved into water and that water must be coagulated again into earth. This is done by a certain natural agent which the philosophers call their Secret Fire. For if you work with common fire it will dry your sperm and bring it to an unprofitable red dust, of the colour of wild poppy. Their Fire then is the Key of the Art, for it is a natural agent but acts not naturally without the sun. I must confess it is a knotty mystery ; but we shall make it plain,

if you be not very dim and dull. It requires indeed a quick, clear apprehension ; and therefore, Readers : Snuff your candles.

IV. The Philosophical Fire

Fire — notwithstanding the diversities of it in this sublunary kitchen of the elements — is but one thing from one root. The effects of it are various, according to the distance and nature of the subject wherein it resides, for that makes it vital or violent. It sleeps in most things — as in flints, where it is silent and invisible. It is a kind of perdue, lies close like a spider in the cabinet of his web, to surprise all that comes within his lines. He never appears without his prey in his foot. Where he finds aught that's combustible there he discovers himself ; for if we speak properly, he is not generated but manifested. Some men are of opinion that he breeds nothing but devours all things and is therefore called " as it were, inbreeding fire." This is a grammatical whim, for there is nothing in the world generated without fire. What a fine philosopher then was Aristotle, who tells us this agent breeds nothing but his pryausta — a certain fly which he found in his candle but could never be seen afterwards. Indeed too much heat burns and destroys ; and if we descend to other natures, too much water drowns, too much earth buries and chokes the seed, that it cannot come up. And verily at this rate there is nothing in the world that generates. What an owl was he then that could not distinguish, with all his logic, between excess and measure, between violent and vital degrees of heat, but concluded the fire did breed nothing because it consumed something. But let the mule pass, for so Plato called him, and let us prosecute our Secret Fire. This

Fire is at the root and about the root — I mean, about the centre — of all things, both visible and invisible. It is in water, earth and air ; it is in minerals, herbs and beasts ; it is in men, stars and angels. But originally it is in God Himself, for He is the Fountain of heat and fire, and from Him it is derived to the rest of the creatures in a certain stream or sunshine. Now the magicians afford us but two notions whereby we may know their fire. It is — as they describe it — moist and invisible. Hence have they called it the horse's belly and horse-dung l — a moist heat but no fire that is visible. Now let us compare the common Vulcan with this philosophical Vesta, that we may see wherein they are different. First of all, the philosopher's Fire is moist, and truly so is that of the kitchen too. We see that flames contract and extend themselves ; now they are short, now they are long, which cannot be without moisture to maintain the flux and continuity of their parts. I know Aristotle makes the fire to be simply dry, perhaps because the effects of it are so. He did not indeed consider that in all complexions there are other qualities besides the predominant one. Sure then this dry stuff is that element of his wherein he found his pyrausta. But if our natural fire were simply dry the flames of it could not flow and diffuse themselves as they do : they would rather fall to dust or turn, like their fuel, to ashes.

But that I may return to my former discourse : I say the common fire is excessively hot, but moist in a far inferior degree, and therefore destructive — for it preys on the moisture of other things. On the contrary, the warmth and moisture of the magical agent are equal ; the one temperates and satisfies the other. It is a humid,

tepid fire or — as we commonly express ourselves — bloodwarm. This is their first and greatest difference in relation to our desired effect : we will now consider their second. The kitchen fire — as we all know — is visible but the philosopher's fire is invisible, and therefore no kitchen fire. This Almadir expressly tells us in these words : "Our work" — saith he — "can be performed by nothing but by the invisible beams of our fire." And again : " Our fire is a corrosive fire which brings a cloud about our glass or vessel, in which cloud the beams of our fire are hidden." To be short : the philosophers call this agent their bath, because it is moist as baths are ; but in very truth it is no kind of bath — neither of the sea nor of dew, but a most subtle fire and purely natural ; but the excitation of it is artificial. This excitation or preparation — as I have told thee in my Coelum Terrae — is a very trivial, slight, ridiculous thing. Nevertheless all the secrets of corruption and generation are therein contained. Lastly, I think it just to inform thee that many authors have falsely described this fire and that of purpose, to seduce their readers. For my own part I have neither added nor diminished. Thou hast here the true, entire secret, in which all the easterns agree — Alfid, Almadir, Belen, Gieberim, Hali, Salmanazar and Zadich, with the three famous Jews, Abraham, Artephius and Kalid. If thou dost not by this time apprehend it thou art past my care, for I may tell thee no more of it : I may only teach thee how to use it. Take our two Serpents, which are to be found everywhere on the face of the earth. They are a living male and a living female. Tie them both in a love-knot and shut them up in the Arabian Caraha. This is thy first labour, but thy next is more difficult. Thou must encamp against them with the fire of Nature, and be sure thou dost bring thy line round about. Circle them in and stop all avenues, that they find no relief. Continue this siege patiently ; and they will turn to an ugly, shabby, venomous, black toad, which will be transformed to a horrible devouring Dragon — creeping and weltering in the bottom of her cave, without wings. Touch her not by any means, not so much as with thy hands, for there is not upon earth such a violent, transcendent poison. As thou hast begun so proceed, and this Dragon will turn to a Swan, but more white than the hovering virgin snow when it is not yet sullied with the earth. Henceforth I will allow thee to fortify thy fire till the Phoenix appears. It is a red bird of a most deep colour, with a shining, fiery hue. Feed this bird with the fire of his father and the ether of his mother ; for the first is meat, the second is drink, and without this last he attains not to his full glory. Be sure to understand this secret, for fire feeds not well unless it be first fed. It is of itself dry and choleric ; but a proper moisture tempers it, gives it a heavenly complexion and brings it to the desired exaltation. Feed thy bird then as I have told thee, and he will move in his nest and rise like a star of the firmament. Do this and thou hast placed Nature "within the horizon of eternity." Thou hast performed that command of the Kabalist : " Unite the end to the beginning, like a flame to a coal ; for God " —

saith he — " is superlatively one and He hath no second." Consider then what you seek : you seek an indissoluble, miraculous, transmuting, uniting union ; but such a tie cannot be without the First Unity. " To create " — saith one — " and transmute essentially and naturally, or without any violence, is the only proper office of the first Power, the first Wisdom and the first Love."' Without this love the elements will never be married ; they will never inwardly and essentially unite, which is the end and perfection of magic. Study then to understand this, and when thou hast performed I will allow thee that test of the Mekkubalim : " Thou hast understood in wisdom, and thou hast been wise in understanding ; thou hast established this subject upon the pure elements thereof, and thou hast posited the Creator on His throne." For a close to this section, I say it is impossible to generate in the patient without a vital, generating agent. This agent is the philosophical fire, a certain moist, heavenly, invisible heat. But let us hear Raymund Lully describe it : * " When we say the Stone is generated by fire, men neither see, neither do they believe there is any other fire but the common fire, nor

2 Creare enim atque intrinsecus transmutare absque violentid, munus est proprittm duntaxat Primes Potentice, Primes Sapientice, Primi Amor is.

any other Sulphur and Mercury but the common Sulphur and Mercury. Thus are they deceived by their own opinions, saying that we are the cause of their error, having made them to mistake one thing for another. But — by their leave — it is not so, as we shall prove by the doctrine of the philosophers. For we call the sun a fire and the natural heat we call his substitute or deputy. For that which the heat of the sun performs in a thousand years in the mines, the heat of Nature performs it above the earth in one hour. But we and many other philosophers have called this heat the Child of the Sun, for at first it was generated naturally by the influence of the sun without the help of our Art or knowledge." Thus Lully : but one thing I must tell thee and be sure, Reader, thou dost remember it. This very natural heat must be applied in the just degree and not too much fortified; for the sun itself doth not generate but burn and scorch where it is too hot. " If thou shalt work with too strong a fire " — saith the same Lully — " the propriety of our spirit, which is indifferent as yet to life or death, will separate itself from the body, and the soul will depart to the region of her own sphere." Take therefore along with thee this short but wholesome advice of the same author : " My son " — saith he — " let the heavenly power or agent be such in the place of generation or mutation that it may alter the spermatic humidity from its earthly complexion to a most fine, transparent form or species."

See here now the solution of the slimy, fat earth to a transparent, glorious Mercury. This Mercury, Gentlemen, is the water which we look after — but not any common water whatsoever. There is nothing now behind but that which the philosophers call the Secret of the Art, a thing that was never published and without which you will never perform, though you know both fire and matter. An instance hereof we have in Flamel, who knew the Matter well enough and had both fire and furnace painted to him by Abraham the Jew ; but notwithstanding he erred for three years because he knew not the third secret. Henry Madathan, a most noble philosopher, practised upon the subject for five years together but knew not the right method and therefore found nothing. At last — saith he — " after the sixth year I was entrusted with the Key of Power by secret revelation from the Almighty God." This Key of Power or third secret was never put to paper by any philosopher whatsoever. Paracelsus indeed hath touched upon it, but so obscurely it is no more to the purpose than if he had said nothing.

And now I suppose I have done enough for the discovery and regimen of the Fire. If you think it too little, it is much more than any one author hath performed. Search it then, for he that finds this Fire will attain to the true temperament ; he will make a noble, deserving philosopher and — to speak in the phrase of our Spaniard — " he shall be worthy to take a seat at the table of the twelve peers."

V. The River of Pearl

It is a decomposed substance, extreme heavy and moist but wets not the hand. It shines after night like a star

and will enlighten any dark room. It is full of small eyes, sparkling like pearls or aiglets. It is the whole Demogorgon but now actually animated by manifestation of his own inward light. The father of it is a certain inviolable mass, for the parts of it are so firmly united you can neither pound them into dust nor separate them by violence of fire. This is the Stone of the Philosophers. " It is compassed about " — saith one — " with darkness, clouds and blackness. It dwells in the inmost bowels of the earth. But when he is born he is clothed with a certain green mantle, and sprinkled over with a certain moisture. He is not properly generated by any natural thing, but he is eternal and the father of all things." This description is very true and apposite but enigmatical : howsoever, forget not the green mantle. This is that substance which Gieberim - Eben - Haen — or, as the rabble writes him, Geber — calls " the Stone known in high places " — a very subtle expression, but if well examined it is the key to his whole book and to the writings of the old philosophers in general. But let us return to our River of Pearl, and — for our further information— let us hear it described by a most excellent adeptus, and that in the very act of flowing forth, before the full moon appears. Here we have portrayed unto us the whole philosophical laboratory, furnace, fire and matter, with the mysterious germinations thereof. But because the terms are difficult and not to be understood by any but such as have seen the thing itself I will for the reader's benefit — I cannot say, satisfaction — put them into English.

" This is the work " l — saith he — " which I have sometimes seen with a singular and a most dear friend, who shewed to me certain large furnaces and those crowned with cornues of glass. The vessels were several, having —besides their tripods — their sediments or caskets, and within them was a Holy Oblation, or present dedicated to the Ternary. But why should I any longer conceal so divine a thing ? Within this fabric was a certain mass moving circularly, or driven round about, and representing the very figure of the great world. For here the earth was to be seen standing of itself in the midst of all, compassed about with most clear waters, rising up to several hillocks and craggy rocks, and bearing many sorts of fruit — as if it had been watered with showers from the moist air. It seemed also to be very fruitful for wine, oil and milk, with all kinds of precious stones and metals. The waters themselves — like those of the sea — were full of a certain transparent salt, now white, now red, then yellow and purpled, and — as it were — chamletted with various colours, which did swell up to the face of the waters. All these things were actuated or stirred with their own appropriate fire, but in very truth imperceptible and ethereal. But one thing above the rest forced me to an incredible admiration — namely, that so many things, such diverse and in their kind such perfect particulars should proceed from one only thing, and that with very small assistance, which being furthered and strengthened by degrees, the Artist faithfully affirmed to me that all those diversities would settle at last to one body. Here I observed that fusil kind of salt to be nothing different from a pumice-stone, and that quicksilver which the ancient authors of this Art called Mercury to be the same with Lully's Lunaria? whose water gets up against the fire of Nature and shines by night, but by day hath a glutinous, viscous faculty."

This is the sense of our learned Adeptus, and for his analogy of the Philosophic Salt and a pumice-stone it cannot be well conceived without the light of experience. It is then a porous, hollow, froth-like, spongious salt. The consistency of it is pumice-like, and neither hard nor opaceous. It is a thin, slippery, oily substance, in appearance like mouth-glue but much more clear. Sometimes it looks like rosials and rubies. Sometimes it is violet blue, sometimes white as lilies and again more green than grass, but with a smaragdine transparency ; and sometimes it looks like burnished gold and silver. The River of Pearl hath her name from it, for there it stands like the sperm of frogs in common water. Sometimes it will move, and swim to the face of his bath in thin leaves like wafers, but with a thousand miraculous colours. This is enough and too much, for I hold it not my duty to insist upon secrets which are so far from the reader's inquiry that I dare say they are beyond his expectation.

VI. The Ether, or The Air of Paradise

Hitherto I have discoursed of the First Matter and the Fire of Nature — terms indeed commonly known but the things signified are seldom understood. I shall now descend to more abstruse, particular principles, things of that secrecy and subtlety they are not so much as thought of, much less inquired after. The common chemist dreams of gold and transmutations, most noble and heavenly effects, but the means whereby he would encompass them are worm-eaten, dusty, musty papers. His study and his noddle are stuffed with old receipts ; he can tell us a hundred stories of brimstone and quicksilver, with many miraculous legends of arsenic and antimony, sal gemmae, sal prunae, sal petrae and other stupendous alkalies, as he loves to call them. With such strange notions and charms does he amaze and silence his auditors, as bats are killed with thunder at the ear. Indeed if this noise will carry it, let him alone : he can want no artillery. But if you bring him to the field and force him to his polemics, if you demand his reason and reject his recipe, you have laid him as flat as a flounder. A rational, methodical dispute will undo him, for he studies not the whole body of philosophy. A receipt he would find in an old box or an old book, as if the knowledge of God and Nature were a thing of chance, not of reason. This idle humour hath not only surprised the common, illiterate broiler, where in truth

there is some necessity for it, but even great doctors and physicians. Bate me the imposthume of their titles and their learning is not considerable. Hence it comes to pass that so many men are undone in the prosecution of this Art. They are so wedded to old scribblings they will not submit them to their judgment but presently bring them to the fire. Certainly they believe such ridiculous impossibilities that even brute beasts — if they could speak — would reprove them. Sometimes they mistake their own excrement for that Matter Out of which heaven and earth were made. Hence they drudge and labour in urine and such filthy, dirty stuff which is not fit to be named. But when all comes to all and their custard fails them, they quit their filthiness but not their error. They think of something that's more tractable and dream perhaps that God made the world of egg-shells or flint-stones. Truly these opinions proceed not only from simple people but from doctors forsooth and philosophers. It is therefore my design to discover some excellences of this art and make it appear to the student that what is glorious is withal difficult. This, I suppose, may remove that blind, sluggish credulity which prevents all ingenious disquisitions and causes men perhaps to exercise that reason which God hath given them for discoveries. I shall not dwell long on any one particular : I am drawing off the stage in all haste and returning to my first solitudes. My discourse shall be very short and — like the echo's last syllablesimperfect. I intend it only for hint and suggestion to the reader : it is no full light but a glance, and he must improve it to his better satisfaction.

We are now to speak of the ether of the little world, which is the very same in nature and substance with the outward ether of the great world. That you may the better understand what it is we will examine the notion before we state the thing. Aristotle in his book De Mundo derives this word from "ever in movement," because the heavens are in perpetual motion. This is a general irregular whimsy, for the stars also — as well as the ether — move perpetually. The sea is subject to a continual flux and reflux and the blood of all animals to restless unwearied pulse. The more ancient philosophers— whose books this enemy burnt — derived it from Ow = ardeo = I burn, but especially Anaxagoras, who was better acquainted with heaven than Aristotle, as it appears by his miraculous prediction and the opinion he had of that place, namely, that it was his country and that he was to return thither after death. Indeed this last etymology comes near the nature of the thing, for it is healing, cherishing spirit ; but in its genuine complexion it burns not. I cannot then approve of this latter derivation, no more than of the former. I rather relieve that ether is a compound of a« = always, and w = I become hot, this substance being called aether from its effect and office, as that which is ever growing lot. Supposing this to be the true interpretation, let us now see whether it relates more strictly and properly to this principle than to any other nature whatsoever. The ether is a moist, thin, liquid substance, and the region of it is above the stars, in the circumference of the Divine Light. This is the true and famous empyrean, which receives the influent heat of God, and conveys it to the visible heaven and all the inferior creatures. It is a pure essence, a thing not tainted with any material contagion — in which sense it is styled of Pythagoras " the free ether," " because " — saith Reuchlin — " it is freed from the prison of the matter, and being preserved in its liberty it is warm

with the fire of God and by an insensible motion heats all the inferior natures." l In a word — because of its purity — it is placed next to that Divine Fire which the Jews call Lumen Vestimenti? the Light of the Vestment, and it is the very first receptacle of the influences and derivations of the supernatural world — which sufficiently confirms our etymology.

In the beginning it was generated by reflection of the First Unity upon the celestial cube, for the bright emanations of God did flow like a stream into the passive fount, and in this analogy the Samian styles Him the Fountain of perpetual Nature. You shall understand that the ether is not one but manifold, and the reasons of it we shall give you hereafter. By this I mind not a variety of substances but a chain of complexions. There are other moistures, and those too ethereal. They are females also of the masculine Divine Fire, and these are the fountains of the Chaldee, which the oracle styles " fountain heights," ' the invisible upper springs of Nature. Of all substances that come to our hands, the ether is the first that brings us news of another world and tells us we live in a corrupt place. Sendivogius calls it the urine of Saturn, and with this did he water his lunar and solar plants. " Out of my sea" — said the Jew — "do the clouds rise up which bear the blessed waters, and these irrigate the lands and bring forth herbs and flowers." In a word, this moisture is animated with a vegetable, blessed, divine fire, which made one describe the mystery thus : " Out of Nature is it made, and out of the Divine in like manner : it is truly Divine, because — conjoined with Divinity — it produces

Divine substances." l To conclude : the ether is to be found in the lower spring or fountain, namely, in that substance which the Arabians call " the flower of white salt." It is indeed born of salt, for salt is the root of it, and it is found withal " in certain saltish places." The best discovery of it is this : the philosophers call it their Mineral Tree, for it grows as all vegetables do, and hath leaves and fruits in the very hour of its nativity. This is enough ; and now I pass to another principle.

VII. The Heavenly Luna

This Luna is the Moon of the Mine, a very strange, stupefying substance. It is not simple but mixed. The ether and a subtle white earth are its components, and this makes it grosser than the aether itself. It appears in the form of an exceeding white oil but is in very truth a certain vegetant, flowing, smooth, soft salt, &c.

VIII. The Star-Soul

This is the true Star of the Sun, the Animal Spiritual Sun. It is compounded of the ether and a bloody, fiery, spirited earth. It appears in a gummy consistency but with a fierce, hot, glowing complexion. It is substantially a certain purple, animated, divine Salt, &c.

IX. The Prester of Zoroaster

It is a miracle to consider how the earth, which is a body of inexpressible weight and heaviness, can be supported in the air, a fleeting, yielding substance, and through which even froth and feathers will sink and make their way. I hope there is no man so mad as to think it is poised there by some geometrical knack, for that were artificial ; but the work of God is vital and natural. Certainly if the animation of the world be denied there must needs follow a precipitation of this element by its own corpulency and gravity. We see that our own bodies are supported by that essence by which they are actuated and animated ; but when that essence leaves them they fall to the ground, till the spirit returns at the resurrection. I conclude then that the earth hath in her a fire-soul that bears her up, as the spirit of man bears up. To this agrees Raymund Lully in the seventysixth chapter of his Theoria. " The whole earth " — saith he — " is full of intelligence, inclined to the discipline or operation of Nature, which intelligence is moved by the Superior Nature, so that the inferior intelligence is like to the Superior." This spirit or intelligence is the Prester, a notion of the admirable Zoroaster, as I find him rendered by Julian the Chaldean. It comes from irpYiQa) = vro, I burn, and signifies lightning, or a certain burning Turbo* or whirlwind. But in the sense of our Chaldee it is the fire-spirit of life. It is an influence of the Almighty God, and it comes from the Land of the

Living Ones, namely the Second Person, whom the Kabalists style the Supernatural East. For as the natural light of the sun is first manifested to us in the East, so the Supernatural Light was first manifested in the Second Person, for He is Principium Alterationis, the Beginning of the Ways of God, or the First Manifestation of His Father's Light in the Supernatural Generation. From this Land of the Living comes all life or spirit, according to that position of the Mekkubalim : " Every good soul is anew soul coming from the East " — that is, from no^n = Chokmah, or the Second Sephira, which is the Son of God.

Now for the better understanding of this descent of the soul we must refer ourselves to another placet of the Kabalists, and this is it : " The souls " — say they — " descend from the Third Light to the fourth day, thence to the fifth, whence they pass out and enter the night of the body."' To understand this maxim you must know there are three Supreme Lights or Sephiroth, which the Kabalist calls " one throne, wherein sits the Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts." This Third Light from whence the souls descend is rim = Binah, the last of the Three Sephiroth, and it signifies the Holy Ghost. Now that you may know in what sense this descent proceeds from that Blessed Spirit I will somewhat enlarge my dis

course, for the Kabalists are very obscure on the point. " To breathe " — say the Jews — " is the property of the Holy Ghost." Now we read that God breathed into Adam the breath of life, and he became a living soul. Here you must understand that the Third Person is the last of the Three, not that there is any inequality in them but it is so in the order of operation, for He applies first to the creature and therefore works last. The meaning of it is this. The Holy Ghost could not breathe a soul into Adam but He must either receive it or have it of Himself. Now the truth is He receives it, and what He receives that He breathes into Nature. Hence this Most Holy Spirit is styled by the Kabalists " the River flowing forth from Paradise," because He breathes as a river streams. He is also called Mother of sons, because by this breathing He is, as it were, delivered of those souls which have been conceived ideally in the Second Person. Now that the Holy Ghost receives all things from the Second Person is confirmed by Christ Himself : " When He, the Spirit of Truth, is come, He will guide you into all truth : for He shall not speak of Himself ; but whatsoever He shall hear, that shall He speak : and He will shew you things to come. He shall glorify me : for He shall receive of mine, and shall shew it unto you. All things that the Father hath are mine : therefore said I, that He shall take of mine." Here we plainly see that there is a certain subsequent order or method in the operations in the Blessed Trinity, for Christ tells us that He receives from His Father and the Holy Ghost receives

from Him. Again, that all things are conceived ideally or — as we commonly express it — created by the Second Person is confirmed by the word of God. " The world was made by Him" — saith the Scripture — "and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not." l This may suffice for such as love the truth ; and as for that which the Kabalist speaks of the fourth and fifth days it suits not with my present design, and therefore I must waive it. It is clear then that the Land of the Living, or the Eternal Fire-Earth, buds and sprouts, hath her fiery spiritual flowers, which we call souls, as this natural earth hath her natural vegetables. In this mysterious sense is the Prester defined in the Oracles as " the flower of thin fire." But that we may come at last to the thing intended, I think it not amiss to instruct you by this manuduction. You know that no artificer can build but the earth must be the foundation to his building, for without this groundwork his brick and mortar cannot stand. In the creation, when God did build, there was no such place to build upon. I ask then : where did He rest His matter and upon what ? Certainly He built and founded Nature upon His own supernatural centre. He is in her and through her, and with His Eternal Spirit doth He support heaven and earth — as our bodies are supported with our spirits. This is confirmed by that oracle of the apostle : " He bears up all things with the word of His power." From this power is He justly styled " the infinitely powerful and the all-powerful power-making power." I say then that Fire and Spirit are the pillars of Nature, the props on which her whole fabric rests and without which it could not stand one minute. This Fire or Prester is the Throne of the Quintessential Light, from whence He dilates Himself to generation, as we see in the effusion of the sunbeams in the great world. In this dilatation of the light consists the joy or pleasure of the passive spirit and in its contraction his melancholy or sorrow. We see in the great body of Nature that in turbulent weather, when the sun is shut up and clouded, the air is thick and dull and our own spirits — by secret compassion with the spirit of the air — are dull too. On the contrary, in clear, strong sunshine the air is quick and thin, and the spirit of all animals are of the same rarefied, active temper. It is plain then that our joys and sorrows proceed from the dilatation and contraction of our inward quintessential light. This is apparent in despairing lovers, who are subject to a certain, violent, extraordinary panting of the heart, a timourous, trembling pulse which proceeds from the apprehension and fear of the spirit in relation to his miscarriage. Notwithstanding he desires to be dilated, as it appears by his pulse or sally, wherein he doth discharge himself ; but his despair checks him again and brings him to a sudden retreat or contraction. Hence it comes to pass that we are subject to sighs, which are occasioned by the sudden pause of the spirit ; for when he stops the breath stops, but when he looseth himself to an outward motion we deliver two or three breaths, that have been formerly omitted, in one long expiration : and this we call a sigh. This passion hath carried many brave men to very sad extremities. It is originally occasioned by the spirit of the mistress or affected party ; for her spirit ferments or leavens the spirit of the lover, so that it desires an union as far as Nature will permit. This makes us resent even smiles and frowns, like fortunes and misfortunes. Our thoughts are never at home, according to that well-grounded observation : " The soul dwells not where she lives but where she loves." l We are employed in a perpetual contemplation of the absent beauty ; our very joys and woes are in her power ; she can set us to what humour she will, as Campian was altered by the music of his mistress.

When to her lute Corinna sings
Her voice enlives the leaden strings ;
But when of sorrows she doth speak
Even with sighs the strings do break :
And as her lute doth live or die,
Led by her passions, so do I.

This and many more miraculous sympathies proceed from the attractive nature of the Prester. It is a spirit that can do wonders ; and now let us see if there be any possibility to come at him. Suppose then we should dilapidate or dis-compose some artificial building, stone by stone, there is no question but we should come at last to the earth whereupon it is founded. It is just so in magic : if we open any natural body and separate all the natural parts one from another we shall come at last to the Prester, which is the Candle and Secret Light of God. We shall know the Hidden Intelligence and see that Inexpressible Face which gives the outward figure to the body. This is the syllogism we should look after, for he that has once passed the Aquaster enters the fireworld and sees what is both invisible and incredible to the common man. He shall know the secret love of heaven and earth and the sense of that deep Kabalism : " There is not an herb here below but he hath a star in heaven above ; and the star strikes him with her beam and says to him : Grow." He shall know how the firespirit hath his root in the spiritual fire-earth and receives from it a secret influx upon which he feeds, as herbs feed on that juice and liquor which they receive at their roots from this common earth.

This is it which our Saviour tells us : " Man lives not by bread alone, but by every word that comes out of the mouth of God." He meant not, by ink and paper, or the dead letter : it is a mystery, and St Paul hath partly expounded it. He tells the Athenians that God made man to the end "that he should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after Him, and find Him." ' Here is a strange expression, you will say, that a man should feel after God or seek Him with his hands. But he goes on and tells you where he shall find Him. He is " not far " — saith he — " from every one of us : for in Him we live, and move, and have our being." For the better understanding of this place I wish you to read Paracelsus his PHILOSOPHIA AD ATHENIENSES, a glorious, incomparable discourse : but you will shortly find it in English. Again, he that enters the centre shall know why all influx of fire descends — against the nature of fire — and comes from heaven downwards. He shall know also why the same fire, having found a body, ascends again towards heaven and grows upwards.

To conclude : I say the grand, supreme mystery of magic is to multiply the Prester and place him in the moist, serene ether, which God hath purposely created to qualify the fire. For I would have thee know that this spirit may be so chafed — and that in the most temperate bodies — as to undo thee upon a sudden. This thou mayst guess thyself by the " thundering gold," as the chemist calls it. Place him then as God hath placed the stars, in the condensed ether of his chaos, for there he will shine — not burn ; he will be vital and calm — not furious and choleric. This secret, I confess, transcends the common process, and I dare tell thee no more of it. It must remain then as a light in a dark place ; but how it may be discovered do thou consider.

X. The Green Salt

It is a tincture of the sapphiric mine l and — to define it substantially — it is the air of our little invisible fire-world. .It produceth two noble effects — youth and hope. Wheresoever it appears, it is an infallible sign of life — as you see in the springtime, when all things are green. The sight of it is cheerful and refreshing beyond all imagination. It comes out of the heavenly earth, for the sapphire doth spermatise and injects her tinctures into the ether, where they are carried and manifested to the eye. This sapphire is equal of herself to the whole compound, for she is threefold, or hath in her three several essences. I have seen them all — not in airy, imaginary suppositions but really, with my bodily eyes. And here we have Apollodorus his mathematical problem resolved, namely, that Pythagoras should sacrifice a hundred oxen when he found out "that the subtendent of a right angled triangle was equivalent to those parts which contained it," &c.

XI. The Diapasm, or Magical Perfume

It is compounded of the sapphiric earth and the ether. If it be brought to its full exaltation, it will shine like the day-star in his first eastern glories. It hath a fascinating, attractive faculty, for if you expose it to the open air it will draw to it birds and beasts, &c.

XII. The Regeneration, Ascent, and Glorification

I have now sufficiently and fully discovered the principles of our chaos. In the next place I will shew you how you are to use them. You must unite them to a new life, and they will be regenerated by water and the Spirit. These two are in all things. They are placed there by God Himself, according to that speech of Trismegistus : " Each thing whatsoever bears within it the seed of its own regeneration." Proceed then patiently, but not manually. The work is performed by an invisible artist, for there is a secret incubation of the Spirit of God upon Nature. You must only see that the outward heat fails not, but with the subject itself you have no more to do than the mother hath with the child that is in her womb. The two former principles perform all ; the Spirit makes use of the water to purge and wash his body ; and he will bring it at last to a celestial, immortal constitution. Do not you think this impossible. Remember that in the incarnation of Christ Jesus the Quaternarius or four elements, as men call them, were united to their Eternal Unity and Ternarius. Three and four make seven ; this Septenary is the true Sabbath, the Rest of God into which the creature shall enter. This is the best and greatest manuduction that I can give you. In a word, salvation itself is nothing else but transmutation. "Behold" — saith the apostle — "I shew you a mystery ; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump." God of His great mercy prepare us for it, that from hard, stubborn flints of this world we may prove chrysoliths and jaspers in the new, eternal foundations ; that we may ascend from this present distressed Church, which is in captivity with her children, to the free Jerusalem from above, which is the mother of us all.

XIII. The Descent and Metempsychosis

There is in the world a scribbling, ill-disposed generation : they write only to gain an opinion of knowledge, and this by amazing their readers with whimsies and fancies of their own. These commonly call themselves chemists and abuse the Great Mystery of Nature with the name and nonsense of Lapis Chemicus. I find not one of them but hath mistaken this descent for the ascent or fermentation. I think it necessary therefore to inform the reader there is a twofold fermentation — a spiritual and a bodily one. The spiritual fermentation is performed by multiplying the tinctures, which is not done with common gold and silver, for they are not tinctures but gross, compacted bodies. The gold and silver of the philosophers are a soul and spirit ; they are living ferments and principles of bodies ; but the two common metals — whether you take them in their gross composition or after a philosophical preparation — are no way pertinent to our purpose. The bodily fermentation is that which I properly call the descent ; and now we will speak of it.

When thou hast made the Stone or Magical Medicine, it is a liquid, fiery, spiritual substance — shining like the sun. In this complexion, if you would project, you could hardly find the just proportion, the virtue of the Medicine is so intensive and powerful. The philosophers therefore took one part of their Stone and did cast it upon ten parts of pure molten gold. This single small grain did bring all the gold to a bloody powder ; and, on the contrary, the gross body of the gold did abate the spiritual strength of the projected grain. This descent or incorporation some wise authors have called a bodily

fermentation ; but the philosophers did not use common gold to make their Stone, as some scribblers have written. They used it only to qualify the intensive power of it when it is made, that they might the more easily find what quantity of base metal they should project upon. By this means they reduced their Medicine to a dust, and this dust is the Arabian Elixir. This Elixir the philosophers could carry about them, but the Medicine itself not so, for it is such a subtle, moist fire there is nothing but glass that will hold it. Now for their Metempsychosis : it hath indeed occasioned many errors concerning the soul, but Pythagoras applied it only to the secret performances of magic. It signifies their last transmutation, which is done with the Elixir or Qualified Medicine. Take therefore one part of it ; cast it on a millenary proportion of quicksilver, and it will be all pure gold, that shall pass the test royal without any diminution. Now, Reader, I have done, and for a farewell I will give thee a most noble, secret, sacred truth. The chaos itself, in the very first analysis, is threefold ; the sapphire of the chaos is likewise threefold. Here thou hast six parts, which is the Pythagorical Senarius, or Number of the Spouse. In these six the influx of the Metaphysical Unity is sole monarch and makes up the seventh number or Sabaoth, in which at last — by the assistance of God— the body shall rest. Again, every one of these six parts is twofold, and these duplicities are contrarieties. Here then thou hast twelve — six against six in a desperate division and the unity of peace amongst them. These duplicities consist of contrary natures : one part is good, one bad ; one corrupt, one incorrupt ; and — in the terms of Zoroaster — one rational, one irrational. These bad, corrupt, irrational seeds are the tares and sequels of the curse. Now, Reader, I have unriddled for thee the grand, mysterious problem of the Kabalist. " In the seven parts " — saith he — " there are two triplicities, and in the middle there stands one thing. Twelve stand in battle array : three friends, three foes ; three warriors make .alive ; three in like manner slay. And God the Faithful King ruleth over all from the Hall of His sanctity. One upon three, and three upon seven, and seven upon twelve, and all standing in close array, one with another." This and no other is the truth of that science which I have prosecuted a long time with frequent and serious endeavours. It is my firm, decreed resolution to write no more of it ; and if any will abuse what is written, let him. He cannot so injure me but I am already satisfied : I have to my reward a light that will not leave me. " Of his fellow-traveller the sun cannot fail to be mindful." ' I will now close up all with the doxology of a most excellent renowned Philocryphus.

To God alone be Praise and Power !

Amen in the name of Mercury, that Water which runs without feet and operates metallically wheresoever it is found.

Eugenius Philalethes: His Magical Aphorisms

This is the First Truth and This Also the Last.

I

The Point came forth before all things : it was neither atomic nor mathematical, being a diffused point. The Monad manifested explicitly but a myriad were implied. There was light and there was darkness, beginning and the end thereof, the all and naught, being and non-being.

II

The Monad produced the Duad by self-motion, and the visages of the Second Light manifested through the Triad.

III

A simple, uncreated fire sprang forth and beneath the waters assumed the garment of manifold, created fire.

IV

It looked back on the primeval fountain and taking this as a pattern set its seal upon the lower in triadic form.

V

Unity created the one and the Trinity divided into three. It is thus that there arises the Tetrad, as the bond and link of reduction.

VI

Among things visible the water first shone forth, the feminine aspect of brooding fire and fruitful mother of figurable things.

VII

She was porous inwardly and variously clothed with skins : in her womb were interfolded heavens and inchoate stars.

VIII

The Artificer, who parts asunder, broke up the womb of the waters into spacious regions ; but when the foetus appeared the mother vanished.

IX

This notwithstanding, the mother brought forth resplendent sons, who overran the Land of Chai.

X

These in their turn generated the mother anew : in the wood of wonder her fountain sings.

XI

This is the Steward of wisdom : let him be clerk who can.

XII

He is Father of all created things and forth from the created Son, by a living analysis of that Son, is the Father brought forth anew. Herein is the highest mystery of the generating circle : Son of the Son is He Who first was Father of the Son.

Colophon

Thomas Vaughan (Eugenius Philalethes), Lumen de Lumine, or A New Magical Light, 1651. Reproduced from The Works of Thomas Vaughan, edited by Arthur Edward Waite (London: Theosophical Publishing House, 1919). Waite's scholarly footnotes removed; Vaughan's original text preserved with regularization of OCR damage.

Source scan: University of Toronto, archive.org (identifier: worksofthomasvau00vauguoft). Systematic errors corrected: ~30 Waite footnote blocks removed (commentary, Latin quotations, scholarly apparatus), ~17 page-boundary paragraph splits rejoined, 5 section headers standardized, OCR artifacts in Latin, Greek, and alchemical terms repaired, inline footnote markers stripped.

Archived by Caxton (Early English Archivist, Life 19). QC and published by Teleia (WIP Finisher, Pass 299) for the Good Work Library, New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

Other works by Thomas Vaughan in the archive: Anthroposophia Theomagica (1650) · Anima Magica Abscondita (1650) · Coelum Terrae (1650) · Magia Adamica (1650) · Aula Lucis (1652) · Euphrates (1655).

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