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Witch, Warlock, and Magician: Historical Sketches of Magic and Witchcraft in England and Scotland

Chapter 2

V. THE LITERATURE OF WITCHCRAFT 378

WITCH, WARLOCK, AND MAGICIAN.




INTRODUCTION.


PROGRESS OF ALCHEMY IN EUROPE.

The word +chêmeia+--from which we derive our English word
'chemistry'--first occurs, it is said, in the Lexicon of Suidas, a
Greek writer who flourished in the eleventh century. Here is his
definition of it:

'Chemistry is the art of preparing gold and silver. The books
concerning it were sought out and burnt by Diocletian, on
account of the new plots directed against him by the
Egyptians. He behaved towards them with great cruelty in his
search after the treatises written by the ancients, his
purpose being to prevent them from growing rich by a
knowledge of this art, lest, emboldened by measureless
wealth, they should be induced to resist the Roman
supremacy.'

Some authorities assert, however, that this art, or pretended art, is
of much greater antiquity than Suidas knew of; and Scaliger refers to
a Greek manuscript by Zozomen, of the fifth century, which is entitled
'A Faithful Description of the Secret and Divine Art of Making Gold
and Silver.' We may assume that as soon as mankind had begun to set an
artificial value upon these metals, and had acquired some knowledge
of chemical elements, their combinations and permutations, they would
entertain a desire to multiply them in measureless quantities. Dr.
Shaw speaks of no fewer than eighty-nine ancient manuscripts,
scattered through the European libraries, which are all occupied with
'the chemical art,' or 'the holy art,' or, as it is sometimes called,
'the philosopher's stone'; and a fair conclusion seems to be that
'between the fifth century and the taking of Constantinople in the
fifteenth, the Greeks believed in the possibility of making gold and
silver,' and called the supposed process, or processes, _chemistry_.

The delusion was taken up by the Arabians when, under their Abasside
Khalifs, they entered upon the cultivation of scientific knowledge.
The Arabians conveyed it into Spain, whence its diffusion over
Christendom was a simple work of time, sure if gradual. From the
eleventh to the sixteenth century, alchemy was more or less eagerly
studied by the scholars of Germany, Italy, France, and England; and
the volumes in which they recorded both their learning and their
ignorance, the little they knew and the more they did not know,
compose quite a considerable library. One hundred and twenty-two are
enumerated in the 'Bibliotheca Chemica Curiosa,' of Mangetus, a
dry-as-dust kind of compilation, in two huge volumes, printed at
Geneva in 1702. Any individual who has time and patience to expend _ad
libitum_, cannot desire a fairer field of exercise than the
'Bibliotheca.' One very natural result of all this vain research and
profitless inquiry was a keen anxiety on the part of victims to
dignify their labours by claiming for their 'sciences, falsely
so-called,' a venerable and mysterious origin. They accordingly
asserted that the founder or creator was Hermes Trismegistus, whom
some of them professed to identify with Chanaan, the son of Ham, whose
son Mizraim first occupied and peopled Egypt. Now, it is clear that
any person might legitimately devote his nights and days to the
pursuit of a science invented, or originally taught, by no less
illustrious an ancient than Hermes Trismegistus. But to clothe it with
the awe of a still greater antiquity, they affirmed that its
principles had been discovered, engraved in Phoenician characters,
on an emerald tablet which Alexander the Great exhumed from the
philosopher's tomb. Unfortunately, as is always the case, the tablet
was lost; but we are expected to believe that two Latin versions of
the inscription had happily been preserved. One of these may be
Englished as hereinunder:

1. I speak no frivolous things, but only what is true and most
certain.

2. What is below resembles that which is above, and what is above
resembles that which is below, to accomplish the one thing of all
things most wonderful.

3. And as all things proceeded from the meditation of the One God, so
were all things generated from this one thing by the disposition of
Nature.

4. Its father is _Sol_, its mother _Luna_; it was engendered in the
womb by the air, and nourished by the earth.

5. It is the cause of all the perfection of things throughout the
whole world.

6. It arrives at the highest perfection of powers if it be reduced
into earth.

7. Separate the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross, acting
with great caution.

8. Ascend with the highest wisdom from earth to heaven, and thence
descend again to earth, and bind together the powers of things
superior and things inferior. So shall you compass the glory of the
whole world, and divest yourself of the abjectness of humanity.

9. This thing has more fortitude than fortitude itself, since it will
overcome everything subtle and penetrate everything solid.

10. All that the world contains was created by it.

11. Hence proceed things wonderful which in this wise were
established.

12. For this reason the name of Hermes Trismegistus was bestowed upon
me, because I am master of three parts of the philosophy of the whole
world.

13. This is what I had to say concerning the most admirable process of
the chemical art.

These oracular utterances are so vague and obscure that an enthusiast
may read into them almost any meaning he chooses; but there seems a
general consensus of opinion that they refer to the 'universal
medicine' of the earlier alchemists. This, however, is of no great
importance, since it is certain they were invented by some ingenious
hand as late as the fifteenth century. Another forgery of a similar
kind is the 'Tractatus Aureus de Lapidis Physici Secretis,' also
attributed to Hermes; it professes to describe the process of making
this 'universal medicine,' or 'philosopher's stone,' and the formulary
is thus translated by Thomson:

'Take of moisture an ounce and a half; of meridional
redness--that is, the soul of the sun--a fourth part, that
is, half an ounce; of yellow sage likewise half an ounce; and
of auripigmentum half an ounce; making in all three ounces.'

Such a recipe does not seem to help forward an enthusiastic student to
any material extent.


THE EARLIER ALCHEMISTS.

It is in the erudite writings of the great Arabian physician,
Gebir--that is, Abu Moussah Djafar, surnamed _Al Sofi_, or The
Wise--that the science of alchemy, or chemistry (at first the two were
identical), first assumes a definite shape. Gebir flourished in the
early part of the eighth century, and wrote, it is said, upwards of
five hundred treatises on the philosopher's stone and the elixir of
life. In reference to the latter mysterious potion, which possessed
the wonderful power of conferring immortal youth on those who drank of
it, one may remark that it was the necessary complement of the
philosopher's stone, for what would be the use of an unlimited faculty
of making gold and silver unless one could be sure of an immortality
in which to enjoy its exercise? Gebir's principal work, the 'Summæ
Perfectionis,' containing instructions for students in search of the
two great secrets, has been translated into several European
languages; and an English version, by Richard Russell, the alchemist,
was published in 1686.

Gebir lays down, as a primary principle, that all metals are compounds
of mercury and sulphur. They all labour under disease, he says, except
gold, which is the one metal gifted with perfect health. Therefore, a
preparation of it would dispel every ill which flesh is heir to, as
well as the maladies of plants. We may excuse his extravagances,
however, in consideration of the services he rendered to science by
his discovery of corrosive sublimate, red oxide of mercury, white
oxide of arsenic, nitric acid, oxide of copper, and nitrate of silver,
all of which originally issued from Gebir's laboratory.

Briefly speaking, the hypothesis assumed by the alchemists was this:
all the metals are compounds, and the baser contain the same elements
as gold, contaminated, indeed, with various impurities, but capable,
when these have been purged away, of assuming all its properties and
characters. The substance which was to effect this purifying process
they called the philosopher's stone (_lapis philosophorum_), though,
as a matter of fact, it is always described as a _powder_--a powder
red-coloured, and smelling strongly. Few of the alchemists, however,
venture on a distinct statement that they had discovered or possessed
this substance.

The arch-quack Paracelsus makes the assertion, of course; unblushing
mendacity was part of his stock-in-trade; and he pretends even to
define the methods by which it may be realized. Unfortunately, to
ordinary mortals his description is absolutely unintelligible. Others
there are who affirm that they had seen it, and seen it in operation,
transmuting lead, quicksilver, and other of the inferior metals into
ruddy gold. One wonders that they did not claim a share in a process
which involved such boundless potentialities of wealth!

Helvetius, the physician, though no believer in the magical art, tells
the following wild story in his 'Vitulus Aureus':

On December 26, 1666, a stranger called upon him, and, after
discussing the supposed properties of the universal medicine, showed
him a yellow powder, which he declared to be the _lapis_, and also
five large plates of gold, which, he said, were the product of its
action. Naturally enough, Helvetius begged for a few grains of this
marvellous powder, or that the stranger would at least exhibit its
potency in his presence. He refused, however, but promised that he
would return in six weeks. He kept his promise, and then, after much
entreaty, gave Helvetius a pinch of the powder--about as much as a
rape-seed. The physician expressed his fear that so minute a quantity
would not convert as much as four grains of lead; whereupon the
stranger broke off one-half, and declared that the remainder was more
than sufficient for the purpose. During their first conference,
Helvetius had contrived to conceal a little of the powder beneath his
thumb-nail. This he dropped into some molten lead, but it was nearly
all exhaled in smoke, and the residue was simply of a vitreous
character.

On mentioning this circumstance to his visitor, he explained that the
powder should have been enclosed in wax before it was thrown into the
molten lead, to prevent the fumes of the lead from affecting it. He
added that he would come back next day, and show him how to make the
projection; but as he failed to appear, Helvetius, in the presence of
his wife and son, put six drachms of lead into a crucible, and as soon
as the lead was melted, flung into it the atoms of powder given to him
by his mysterious visitor, having first rolled them up in a little
ball of wax. At the end of a quarter of an hour he found the lead
transmuted (so he avers) into gold. Its colour at first was a deep
green; but the mixture, when poured into a conical vessel, turned
blood-red, and, after cooling, acquired the true tint of gold. A
goldsmith who examined it pronounced it to be genuine. Helvetius
requested Purelius, the keeper of the Dutch Mint, to test its value;
and two drachms, after being exposed to aquafortis, were found to have
increased a couple of scruples in weight--an increase doubtlessly
owing to the silver, which still remained enveloped in the gold,
despite the action of the aquafortis.

It is obvious that this narrative is a complete mystification, and
that either the stranger was a myth or Helvetius was the victim of a
deception.

The recipes that the alchemists formulate--those, that is, who
profess to have discovered the stone, or to have known somebody who
enjoyed so rare a fortune--are always unintelligible or impracticable.
What is to be understood, for example, of the following elaborate
process, or series of processes, which are recorded by Mangetus, in
his preface to the ponderous 'Bibliotheca Chemica' (to which reference
has already been made)?

1. Prepare a quantity of spirits of wine, so free from water as to be
wholly combustible, and so volatile that a drop of it, if let fall,
will evaporate before it reaches the ground. This constitutes the
first menstruum.

2. Take pure mercury, revived in the usual manner from cinnabar; put
it into a glass vessel with common salt and distilled vinegar; shake
violently, and when the vinegar turns black, pour it off, and add
fresh vinegar. Shake again, and continue these repeated shakings and
additions until the mercury no longer turns the vinegar black; the
mercury will then be quite pure and very brilliant.

3. Take of this mercury four parts; of sublimed mercury (_mercurii
meteoresati_--probably corrosive sublimate), prepared with your own
hands, eight parts; triturate them together in a wooden mortar with a
wooden pestle, till all the grains of running mercury disappear. (This
process is truly described as 'tedious and rather difficult.')

4. The mixture thus prepared is to be put into a sand-bath, and
exposed to a subliming heat, which is to be gradually increased until
the whole sublimes. Collect the sublimed matter, put it again into the
sand-bath, and sublime a second time; this process must be repeated
five times. The product is a very sweet crystallized sublimate,
constituting the _sal sapientum_, or wise men's salt (probably
calomel), and possessing wonderful properties.

5. Grind it in a wooden mortar, reducing it to powder; put this powder
into a glass retort, and pour upon it the spirit of wine (see No. 1)
till it stands about three finger-breadths above the powder. Seal the
retort hermetically, and expose it to a very gentle heat for
seventy-four hours, shaking it several times a day; then distil with a
gentle heat, and the spirit of wine will pass over, together with
spirit of mercury. Keep this liquid in a well-stoppered bottle, lest
it should evaporate. More spirit of wine is to be poured upon the
residual salt, and after digestion must be distilled off, as before;
and this operation must be repeated until all the salt is dissolved
and given off with the spirit of wine. A great work will then have
been accomplished! For the mercury, having to some extent been
rendered volatile, will gradually become fit to receive the tincture
of gold and silver. Now return thanks to God, who has hitherto crowned
your wonderful work with success. Nor is this wonderful work enveloped
in Cimmerian darkness; it is clearer than the sun, though preceding
writers have sought to impose upon us with parables, hieroglyphs,
fables, and enigmas.

6. Take this mercurial spirit, which contains our magical steel in
its belly (_sic_), and put it into a glass retort, to which a receiver
must be well and carefully adjusted; draw off the spirit by a very
gentle heat, and in the bottom of the retort will remain the
quintessence or soul of mercury. This is to be sublimed by applying a
stronger heat to the retort that it may become volatile, as all the
philosophers affirm:

'Si fixum solvas faciesque volare solutum,
Et volucrum figas faciet te vivere tutum.'

This is our _luna_, our fountain, in which 'the king' and 'the queen'
may bathe. Preserve this precious quintessence of mercury, which is
exceedingly volatile, in a well-closed vessel for further use.

8. Let us now proceed to the production of common gold, which we shall
communicate clearly and distinctly, without digression or obscurity,
in order that from this common gold we may obtain our philosophical
gold, just as from common mercury we have obtained, by the foregoing
processes, philosophical mercury. In the name of God, then, take
common gold, purified in the usual way by antimony, and reduce it into
small grains, which must be washed with salt and vinegar until they
are quite pure. Take one part of this gold, and pour on it three parts
of the quintessence of mercury: as philosophers reckon from seven to
ten, so do we also reckon our number as philosophical, and begin with
three and one. Let them be married together, like husband and wife, to
produce children of their own kind, and you will see the common gold
sink and plainly dissolve. Now the marriage is consummated; and two
things are converted into one. Thus the philosophical sulphur is at
hand, as the philosophers say: 'The sulphur being dissolved, the stone
is at hand.' Take then, in the name of God, our philosophical vessel,
in which the king and queen embrace each other as in a bedchamber, and
leave it till the water is converted into earth; then peace is
concluded between the water and the fire--then the elements no longer
possess anything contrary to each other--because, when the elements
are converted into earth, they cease to be antagonistic; for in earth
all elements are at rest. The philosophers say: 'When you shall see
the water coagulate, believe that your knowledge is true, and that all
your operations are truly philosophical.' Our gold is no longer
common, but philosophical, through the processes it has undergone: at
first, it was exceedingly 'fixed' (_fixum_); then exceedingly
volatile; and again, exceedingly fixed: the entire science depends
upon the change of the elements. The gold, at first a metal, is now a
sulphur, capable of converting all metals into its own sulphur. And
our tincture is wholly converted into sulphur, which possesses the
energy of curing every disease; this is our universal medicine against
all the most deplorable ills of the human body. Therefore, return
infinite thanks to Almighty God for all the good things which He hath
bestowed upon us.

9. In this great work of ours, two methods of fermentation and
projection are wanting, without which the uninitiated will not
readily follow out our process. The mode of fermentation: Of the
sulphur already described take one part, and project it upon three
parts of very pure gold fused in a furnace. In a moment you will see
the gold, by the force of the sulphur, converted into a red sulphur of
an inferior quality to the primary sulphur. Take one part of this, and
project it upon three parts of fused gold; the whole will again be
converted into a sulphur or a fixable mass; mixing one part of this
with three parts of gold, you will have a malleable and extensible
metal. If you find it so, it is well; if not, add more sulphur, and it
will again pass into a state of sulphur. Now our sulphur will
sufficiently be fermented, or our medicine brought into a metallic
nature.

10. The method of projection is this: Take of the fermented sulphur
one part, and project it upon two parts of mercury, heated in a
crucible, and you will have a perfect metal; if its colour be not
sufficiently deep, fuse it again, and add more fermented sulphur, and
thus it will gain colour. If it become frangible, add a sufficient
quantity of mercury, and it will be perfect.

Thus, friend, you have a description of the universal medicine, not
only for curing diseases and prolonging life, but also for transmuting
all metals into gold. Give thanks, therefore, to Almighty God, who,
taking pity on human calamities, hath at last revealed this
inestimable treasure, and made it known for the common benefit of all.

Such is the jargon with which these so-called philosophers imposed
upon their dupes, and, to some extent perhaps, upon themselves. As Dr.
Thomson points out, the philosopher's stone prepared by this elaborate
process could hardly have been anything else than _an amalgam of
gold_. Chloride of gold it could not have contained, because such a
preparation, instead of acting medicinally, would have proved a most
virulent poison. Of course, amalgam of gold, if projected into melted
lead or tin, and afterwards cupellated, would leave a portion of
gold--that is, exactly the amount _which existed previously in the
amalgam_. Impostors may, therefore, have availed themselves of it to
persuade the credulous that it was really the philosopher's stone; but
the alchemists who prepared the amalgam must have known that it
contained gold.[1]

It is well known that the mediæval magicians, necromancers,
conjurers--call them by what name you will--who adopted alchemy as an
instrument of imposition, and by no means in the spirit of
philosophical inquiry and research which had characterized their
predecessors, resorted to various ingenious devices in order to
maintain their hold upon their victims. Sometimes they made use of
crucibles with false bottoms--at the real bottom they concealed a
portion of oxide of gold or silver covered with powdered sulphur,
which had been rendered adhesive by a little gummed water or wax. When
heat was applied the false bottom melted away, and the oxide of gold
or silver eventually appeared as the product of the operation at the
bottom of the crucible. Sometimes they made a hole in a lump of
charcoal, and filling it with oxide of gold or silver, stopped up the
orifice with wax; or they soaked charcoal in a solution of these
metals; or they stirred the mixture in the crucible with hollow rods,
containing oxide of gold or silver, closed up at the bottom with wax.
A faithful representation of the stratagems to which the
pseudo-alchemist resorted, that his dupes might not recover too soon
from their delusion, is furnished by Ben Jonson in his comedy of 'The
Alchemist,' and his masque of 'Mercury vindicated from the
Alchemists.' The dramatist was thoroughly conversant with the
technicalities of the pretended science, and also with the deceptions
of its professors. In the masque he puts into the mouth of Mercury an
indignant protest:

'The mischief a secret any of them knows, above the consuming
of coals and drawing of usquebagh; howsoever they may
pretend, under the specious names of Gebir, Arnold, Lully, or
Bombast of Hohenheim, to commit miracles in art, and treason
against nature! As if the title of philosopher, that creature
of glory, were to be fetched out of a furnace!'

But while the world is full of fools, it is too much to expect there
shall be any lack of knaves to prey upon them!

FOOTNOTE:

[1] _Cf._ Stahl, 'Fundamenta Chimiæ,' cap. 'De Lapide Philosophorum';
and Kircher, 'Mundus Subterraneus.'


IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

The first of the great European alchemists I take to have been

_Albertus Magnus_ or _Albertus Teutonicus_ (_Frater Albertus de
Colonia_ and _Albertus Grotus_, as he is also called), a man of
remarkable intellectual energy and exceptional force of character, who
has sometimes, and not without justice, been termed the founder of the
Schoolmen. Neither the place nor the date of his birth is
authentically known, but he was still in his young manhood when, about
1222, he was appointed to the chair of theology at Padua, and became a
member of the Dominican Order. He did not long retain the
professorship, and, departing from Padua, taught with great success in
Ratisbon, Köln, Strassburg, and Paris, residing in the last-named city
for three years, together with his illustrious disciple, Thomas
Aquinas. In 1260 he was appointed to the See of Ratisbon, though he
had not previously held any ecclesiastical dignity, but soon resigned,
on the ground that its duties interfered vexatiously with his studies.
Twenty years later, at a ripe old age, he died, leaving behind him, as
monuments of his persistent industry and intellectual subtlety,
one-and-twenty ponderous folios, which include commentaries on
Aristotle, on the Scriptures, and on Dionysius the Areopagite. Among
his minor works occurs a treatise on alchemy, which seems to show that
he was a devout believer in the science.

From the marvellous stories of his thaumaturgic exploits which have
come down to us, we may infer that he had attained a considerable
amount of skill in experimental chemistry. The brazen statue which he
animated, and the garrulity of which was so offensive that Thomas
Aquinas one day seized a hammer, and, provoked beyond all endurance,
smashed it to pieces, may be a reminiscence of his powers as a
ventriloquist. And the following story may hint at an effective
manipulation of the _camera obscura_: Count William of Holland and
King of the Romans happening to pass through Köln, Albertus invited
him and his courtiers to his house to partake of refreshment. It was
mid-winter; but on arriving at the philosopher's residence they found
the tables spread in the open garden, where snowdrifts lay several
feet in depth. Indignant at so frugal a reception, they were on the
point of leaving, when Albertus appeared, and by his courtesies
induced them to remain. Immediately the scene was lighted up with the
sunshine of summer, a warm and balmy air stole through the whispering
boughs, the frost and snow vanished, the melodies of the lark dropped
from the sky like golden rain. But as soon as the feast came to an end
the sunshine faded, the birds ceased their song, clouds gathered
darkling over the firmament, an icy blast shrieked through the
gibbering branches, and the snow fell in blinding showers, so that the
philosopher's guests were glad to fold their cloaks about them and
retreat into the kitchen to grow warm before its blazing fire.

Was this some clever scenic deception, or is the whole a fiction?

A knowledge of the secret of the _Elixir Vitæ_ was possessed (it is
said) by _Alain de l'Isle_, or Alanus de Insulis; but either he did
not avail himself of it, or failed to compound a sufficient quantity
of the magic potion, for he died under the sacred roof of Citeaux, in
1298, at the advanced age of 110.

_Arnold de Villeneuve_, who attained, in the thirteenth century, some
distinction as a physician, an astronomer, an astrologer, and an
alchemist--and was really a capable man of science, as science was
then understood--formulates an elaborate recipe for rejuvenating one's
self, which, however, does not seem to have been very successful in
his own case, since he died before he was 70. Perhaps he was as
disgusted with the compound as (in the well-known epitaph) the infant
was with this mundane sphere--he 'liked it not, and died.' I think
there are many who would forfeit longevity rather than partake of it.

'Twice or thrice a week you must anoint your body thoroughly with the
manna of cassia; and every night, before going to bed, you must place
over your heart a plaster, composed of a certain quantity (or, rather,
uncertain, for definite and precise proportions are never
particularized) of Oriental saffron, red rose-leaves, sandal-wood,
aloes, and amber, liquefied in oil of roses and the best white wax.
During the day this must be kept in a leaden casket. You must next pen
up in a court, where the water is sweet and the air pure, sixteen
chickens, if you are of a sanguine temperament; twenty-five, if
phlegmatic; and thirty, if melancholic. Of these you are to eat one a
day, after they have been fattened in such a manner as to have
absorbed into their system the qualities which will ensure your
longevity; for which purpose they are first to be kept without food
until almost starved, and then gorged with a broth of serpents and
vinegar, thickened with wheat and beans, for at least two months.
When they are served at your table you will drink a moderate quantity
of white wine or claret to assist digestion.'

I should think it would be needed!

* * * * *

Among the alchemists must be included _Pietro d'Apono_. He was an
eminent physician; but, being accused of heresy, was thrown into
prison and died there. His ecclesiastical persecutors, however, burned
his bones rather than be entirely disappointed of their _auto da fé_.
Like most of the mediæval physicians, he indulged in alchemical and
astrological speculations; but they proved to Pietro d'Apono neither
pleasurable nor profitable. It was reputed of him that he had summoned
a number of evil spirits; and, on their obeying his call, had shut
them up in seven crystal vases, where he detained them until he had
occasion for their services. In his selection of them he seems to have
displayed a commendably catholic taste and love of knowledge; for one
was an expert in poetry, another in painting, a third in philosophy, a
fourth in physic, a fifth in astrology, a sixth in music, and a
seventh in alchemy. So that when he required instruction in either of
these arts or sciences, he simply tapped the proper crystal vase and
laid on a spirit.

The story seems to be a fanciful allusion to the various acquirements
of Pietro d'Apono; but if intended at first as a kind of allegory, it
came in due time to be accepted literally.

* * * * *

I pass on to the great Spanish alchemist and magician, _Raymond
Lully_, or Lulli, who was scarcely inferior in fame, or the qualities
which merited fame, even to Albertus Magnus. He was a man, not only of
wide, but of accurate scholarship; and the two or three hundred
treatises which proceeded from his pen traversed the entire circle of
the learning of his age, dealing with almost every conceivable subject
from medicine to morals, from astronomy to theology, and from alchemy
to civil and canon law. His life had its romantic aspects, and his
death (in 1315?) was invested with something of the glory of
martyrdom; for while he was preaching to the Moslems at Bona, the mob
fell upon him with a storm of stones, and though he was still alive
when rescued by some Genoese merchants, and conveyed on board their
vessel, he died of the injuries he had received before it arrived in a
Spanish port.

There seems little reason to believe that Lulli visited England about
1312, on the invitation of Edward II. Dickenson, in his work on 'The
Quintessences of the Philosophers,' asserts that his laboratory was
established in Westminster Abbey--that is, in the cloisters--and that
some time after his return to the Continent a large quantity of
gold-dust was found in the cell he had occupied. Langlet du Fresnoy
contends that it was through the intervention of John Cremer, Abbot of
Westminster, a persevering seeker after the _lapis philosophorum_,
that he came to England, Cremer having described him to King Edward as
a man of extraordinary powers. Robert Constantine, in his 'Nomenclator
Scriptorum Medicorum' (1515), professes to have discovered that Lulli
resided for some time in London, and made gold in the Tower, and that
he had seen some gold pieces of his making, which were known in
England as the nobles of Raymond, or rose-nobles. But the great
objections to these very precise statements rests on two facts pointed
out by Mr. Waite, that the rose-noble, so called because a rose was
stamped on each side of it, was first coined in 1465, in the reign of
Edward IV., and that there never was an Abbot Cremer of Westminster.

* * * * *

_Jean de Meung_ is also included among the alchemists; but he
bequeathed to posterity in his glorious poem of the 'Roman de la Rose'
something very much more precious than would have been any formula for
making gold. In one sense he was indeed an alchemist, and possessed
the secret of the universal medicine; for in his poem his genius has
transmuted into purest gold the base ore of popular traditions and
legends.

Some of the stories which Langlet du Fresnoy tells of _Nicholas
Flamel_ were probably invented long after his death, or else we should
have to brand him as a most audacious knave. One of those amazing
narratives pretends that he bought for a couple of florins an old and
curious volume, the leaves of which--three times seven (this sounds
better than twenty-one) in number--were made from the bark of trees.
Each seventh leaf bore an allegorical picture--the first representing
a serpent swallowing rods, the second a cross with a serpent crucified
upon it, and the third a fountain in a desert, surrounded by creeping
serpents. Who, think you, was the author of this mysterious volume?
No less illustrious a person than Abraham the patriarch, Hebrew,
prince, philosopher, priest, Levite, and magian, who, as it was
written in Latin, must have miraculously acquired his foreknowledge of
a tongue which, in his time, had no existence. A perusal of its mystic
pages convinced Flamel that he had had the good fortune to discover a
complete manual on the art of transmutation of metals, in which all
the necessary vessels were indicated, and the processes described. But
there was one serious difficulty to be overcome: the book assumed, as
a matter of course, that the student was already in possession of that
all-important agent of transmutation, the philosopher's stone.

Careful study led Flamel to the conclusion that the secret of the
stone was hidden in certain allegorical drawings on the fourth and
fifth leaves; but, then, to decipher these was beyond his powers. He
submitted them to all the learned savants and alchemical adepts he
could get hold of: they proved to be no wiser than himself, while some
of them actually laughed at Abraham's posthumous publication as
worthless gibberish. Flamel, however, clung fast to his conviction of
the inestimable value of his 'find,' and daily pondered over the two
cryptic illustrations, which may thus be described: On the first page
of the fourth leaf Mercury was contending with a figure, which might
be either Saturn or Time--probably the latter, as he carried on his
head the emblematical hour-glass, and in his hand the not less
emblematical scythe. On the second stage a flower upon a mountain-top
presented the unusual combination of a blue stalk, with red and white
blossoms, and leaves of pure gold. The wind appeared to blow it about
very harshly, and a gruesome company of dragons and griffins
encompassed it.

Upon the study of these provokingly obscure designs Flamel fruitlessly
expended the leisure time of thrice seven years: after which, on the
advice of his wife, he repaired to Spain to seek the assistance of
some erudite Jewish rabbi. He had been wandering from place to place
for a couple of years, when he met, somewhere in Leon, a learned
Hebrew physician, named Canches, who agreed to return with him to
Paris, and there examine Abraham's volume. Canches was deeply versed
in all the lore of the Cabala, and Flamel hung with delight on the
words of wisdom that dropped from his eloquent lips. But at Orleans
Canches was taken ill with a malady of which he died, and Flamel found
his way home, a sadder, if not a wiser, man. He resumed his study of
the book, but for two more years could get no clue to its meaning. In
the third year, recalling some deliverance of his departed friend, the
rabbi, he perceived that all his experiments had hitherto proceeded
upon erroneous principles. He repeated them upon a different basis,
and in a few months brought them to a successful issue. On January 13,
1382, he converted mercury into silver, and on April 25 into gold.
Well might he cry in triumph, 'Eureka!' The great secret, the sublime
magistery was his: he had discovered the art of transmuting metals
into gold and silver, and, so long as he kept it to himself, had at
his command the source of inexhaustible wealth.

At this time Nicholas Flamel, it is said, was about eighty years old.
His admirers assert that he also discovered the elixir of immortal
life; but, as he died in 1419, at the age (it is alleged) of 116, he
must have been content with the merest sip of it! Why did he not
reveal its ingredients for the general benefit of our afflicted
humanity? His immense wealth he bequeathed to churches and hospitals,
thus making a better use of it after death than he had made of it in
his lifetime. For it is said that Flamel was a usurer, and that his
philosopher's stone was 'cent per cent.' It is true enough that he
dabbled in alchemy, and probably he made his alchemical experiments
useful in connection with his usurious transactions.