CHAPTER 13: THE THEOSOPHY OF THE MIDDLE AGES.

The Alchemical disguise — The spiritual purpose of Alchemy — The motives with which the real Alchemists wrote — Their sordid imitators — The real Alchemists aspirants for Adeptship — The powers they incidentally acquired — Their chemical symbology — Its Hermetic origin — Illustrations from Alchemical writers.

Students of esoteric wisdom are familiar with the assertion that the principles of spiritual evolution, which it is their chief purpose to penetrate and comprehend, have been recognised by the illuminated mystics of all countries in all ages of the world. The great science which these principles constitute has not been the invention of modern Theosophists; nor has it been the peculiar inheritance of any small body of Adepts, jealously kept back from the wider circle of philosophers at large. The manner in which a sudden outburst of information relating to the natural laws embraced by occult science seems to have been thrown forward into modern thought within the last few years, is calculated to suggest that idea at first, but the more we come to understand occult teachings, the more we are able to discern them cropping out at the surface of earlier philosophical and religious literature, disguised in one kind of symbolism or another, but evidently the same knowledge as regards the root ideas and the inner significance of the words in which they are expressed.

A good deal has already been written — though still probably a good deal more might be written with advantage — to show the identity of gnostic Christianity with all points of esoteric science on which that presentation of the truth laid stress. And the manner in which the conceptions of gnostic Christianity were obscured by the harsher and narrower dogmas which it became the interest of state churches to endorse, is in itself an interesting study, throwing much light on the processes of degradation to which popular religious beliefs are subject. But in proportion as Christian esotericism became obscured by the development of the power of the Church in the Middle Ages, and perhaps because of that process of obscuration, the essential doctrines, which no persecution could shut out from the appreciation of enlightened minds, sought other channels of expression. In these they altogether withdrew themselves from popular observation. The genuine philosophy of religion separating itself entirely from the debased caricature assumed a disguise which was really impenetrable by all but the initiated few, — which the Church itself was no less incapable of seeing through than the ignorant laity. This disguise was the much misunderstood research, science, or theory known as Alchemy, of which some of the Rosicrucian writers were leading exponents. Ignorantly derided to this day by a materialistic generation, that persists in falling again and again into the mistake of reading symbolical expositions of interior truth in their mere literal sense, alchemy was, nevertheless, the cryptographic expression of a profound spiritual wisdom.

This view of the subject is not a conjectural theory developed to suit any assumed necessity of finding esoteric teaching somewhere in the literature of the Middle Ages, but one which is as certainly the correct view as the interpretation of an ordinary cryptogram is certainly the correct one when it makes sense. For example, if we see an apparently meaningless assemblage of groups of letters in one of the mysterious advertisements, by means of which some people, who find that system amusing, correspond with one another, and if we find that by reading b for a all through, and c for b, and so on, the message translates itself into straightforward English, we know with entire certainty that the original framer of the cryptogram had that intention in his mind. So with the seemingly nonsensical symbology of alchemy, when you try the right key in the attempt to unlock its meaning, it all resolves itself into perfectly coherent sense. We have now got the right key in the shape of that plain information given to the world at large of recent years in Theosophical teachings. The mist clears away from the otherwise hopelessly obscure verbiage of the alchemical books, as we read them with minds attuned to esoteric thinking and on the watch for meanings relating not to the physical transmutation of lead or antimony into gold, but to the process of cultivating the growth of the Higher Self, by the exaltation of the lower, which is occult progress. The transmutation, in fact, of the normal physical consciousness of man into the divine consciousness was the magnum opus on which the true alchemists were engaged, and much that is grotesque imbecility in the directions and recipes they have left behind, if we read it simply as nineteenth-century chemists, becomes beautiful spiritual philosophy in strictest harmony with the laws governing human spiritual evolution, when we put a symbolical construction on the quaintly expressed formulae relating to coctions and distillations and the mercury of the wise and fiery waters and ferments.

It will be easy to take from alchemical books a sufficient number of extracts to show that the writers evidently had a spiritual meaning in their minds as they wrote; it will be equally simple to indicate lines of reading which will enable anybody who likes to take the trouble to arrive at a thorough and exhaustive certainty on the subject, that will never again be disturbed by the silly sneers at alchemy so often met with in the pseudo-scientific literature of nineteenth-century conceit. But before going on to make and elucidate a few quotations that may open up and define the proper method of the investigation it will be well to show in broad outline the indirect consequences of the discovery we are dealing with.

That which has been said so far is the main truth concerning alchemy. The real alchemists were spiritual philosophers concerned with the all-important task of developing the Divine possibilities of their latent human nature. They were students of true religion in the highest sense of the term — men whose intelligence had emancipated them from the more or less fantastic creeds of the exoteric Church, but who sought to go behind the blunders of a self-seeking, worldly-minded priesthood, and associate themselves with the will of God, in the best sense of that expression: that is to say, to identify themselves with the purpose of Nature, with the law of spiritual evolution, with the principle of good in the universe. When the priests and officers of what was blasphemously proclaimed as religion were chiefly concerned with murdering, robbing, and torturing all who stood in the way of their profitable tyranny over popular belief, the alchemists were endeavouring to learn how by self-denial and purity of life, and loftiness of unworldly purpose, it might be possible to elevate that human nature, which for the most part wallowed around them in such ignoble debasement, and were struggling in their own way, which hardly seems to have differed in any essential characteristics from our way, to get upon what we call the path of occult progress, leading on to the goal — or perhaps only the intermediate goal — or Adeptship. But why, it may be asked, did they write books at all if the unfavourable conditions among which they lived were such as to make it impossible for them to write in a way any one less wise than themselves would understand? If they had taught their doctrine of salvation plainly they, and their books with them, would instantly have been burned by the authority of the Church. Was it worth while, then, to teach these doctrines in language that could not reach the intelligence of any one requiring the lesson? " The apparent reply to this question is twofold. First, they who knew what they meant, seem to have imagined that their meaning would become intelligible to persons spiritually ripe for profiting by occult teaching. Whether this expectation was often or ever realised we cannot now be sure. But secondly, it would be easy to see why the true alchemists should write, even if they did not expect to be understood by any one in need of teaching. They may have written to introduce themselves to one another. Anybody who could write a book about alchemy, about the manipulation of lead, sulphur, and mercury, the red and white powder of projection, and so on with all the "gibberish" that would be used about crucibles and sublimations, about coagulating the fugitive tinctures, and so on, and who could at the same time weave into this the esoteric doctrine concerning the path of occult progress, which we in this day are privileged to discuss openly, would be recognised as a genuine occultist by any other occultist who might take up his treatise.

Bearing all this in mind, however, we must remember that besides the genuine occultists who wrote on spiritual progress under cover of alchemical symbology, a great host of sordid hunters for gold, altogether failing to understand the loftier purpose of real alchemy, took up the research in the hope of acquiring riches, and of actually manufacturing the precious metal. The real alchemists were constantly giving out warnings against this mistake in language as plain as it could be made compatibly with not betraying their secret in unequivocal terms, but none the less was the avaricious world always fermenting with the notion that alchemical processes might be a short and easy road to wealth. In this way a great many persons, entirely outside the range of the description already given of the real alchemists all through the Middle Ages, spent time and money on trying experiments with physical mercury, salt, and sulphur, and all the chemical drugs and preparations they could get knowledge of, with the manufacture of tangible gold as their object and disappointment their only harvest. Some of these may have written some of the innumerable alchemical treatises which exist, recording the experiments they may have carried out, and setting forth their own conjectures as to the reason why such experiments may have failed; and such deluded and disappointed searchers after the philosopher's stone may here and there have stumbled on bits of chemical discovery so far vindicating the profoundly stupid view of alchemy at large, common to modern encyclopedias and conventional belief. This idea, of course, is that from A to Z all the alchemists were self-deluded gold hunters who failed to accomplish their object, ex necessitate rei, but in their futile struggles after it, laid the foundations of modern chemistry. They really did immeasurably less in that direction than they have been credited with; but the modern commentators who are foolish enough to suppose that a long procession of learned men, whose writings abundantly prove them in many cases, — alchemy apart, — to have been broad-minded, philosophical, and intelligent, were all the victims of an empty, avaricious dream, afford in themselves the saddest spectacle of self-delusion that the history of alchemy brings to light. Before we come to closer quarters with the alchemical books themselves one more general conclusion on the subject may conveniently be set forth. Leaving out of account the host of alchemical chemists — the deluded experimentalists who sought the philosopher's stone on the physical plane in order to get precious metal by its means and grow rich — and concentrating our attention entirely on the real alchemical philosophers who were on the path of spiritual progress and concerned with far higher objects than the transitory experiences of this life can afford, we have to consider by the light of what we now know concerning occult mysteries what would naturally have been, for the real alchemist, the consequence of discovering the real philosopher's stone, the secret that is to say of real spiritual attainment. Remember that while esoteric progress rests, as on a primary foundation, on the ethical principles which are taught, though often sadly mis-taught, by exoteric religions also, it contemplates a very much larger result than the attainment of an unintelligent spiritual beatitude. Exoteric religion says in effect, be good and devout on earth, then you will be taken to Heaven and be happy evermore. Esoteric teaching says, be good and devout to begin with, to put yourself in tune with the higher planes of Nature, and then aim at the expansion of your knowledge faculties and states of consciousness in accordance with the latent possibilities of the Divine principle within you. The world contains a kingdom of beings, so to speak, above the human kingdom, into which men may rise if they set to work to climb in the right way. Now the real alchemists were aspirants for "Adeptship," as we should express the idea in modern Theosophic language, and it is quite obvious in various ways to the student of occultism, that some of them attained that condition of being. But if any of them were Adepts, then such persons would, by the assumption, have acquired powers over the obscurer laws of Nature, and knowledge concerning the forces lying beyond the physical plane, which would amongst other results have invested them with the power of influencing matter in a way that is entirely beyond the capacity of the physical-plane chemist. Occult phenomena have taken place of recent years, within the knowledge not merely of some Theosophical students, but also in great abundance in presence of spiritualistic wonder seekers. Many of these are not less bewilderingly unintelligible than the transmutation of one metal into another would be. Apart from all questions of evidence, therefore, any occult student would recognise that the transmutation of one metal into another would be most likely well within the range of the occult phenomena, that anyone who could at all be called an Adept, would be able to produce.

This reflection leads us up to the correct appreciation of one surprising discovery to which anybody who takes the trouble will be led by the study of alchemical literature. The evidence to show that certain of the alchemists really did accomplish the much-talked-of physical experiment and turn out metallic tangible gold, that could be coined into money in considerable quantities, is simply overwhelming. Modern obstinacy and prejudice in dealing with the subject of alchemy ignores this evidence, and all branches of the history of the alchemists which tell unfavourably on its own pig-headed and self-sufficient view, but with as much confidence as we can speak of any historical transaction, we may say that Nicholas Flammel and Raymond Lully among others actually accomplished the physical transmutation.

Were they, it may be asked, as a consequence of their extraordinary power, people of great wealth and magnificent living? Not at all. Flammel certainly gave away enormous sums for the building and endowment of churches, and Lully supplied Edward II. with great quantities of gold to be spent on the Crusades; but it invariably appears that the Adept who could make gold, has been himself far too spiritualised a philosopher to live a mundane life of luxury or profusion. That ought to be readily comprehended, and the objection that alleged real alchemists sometimes lived in obscurity and apparent poverty, as an objection to the theory of their power, is no less vulgar-minded and gross than it is unintelligent. Moreover the alchemists, whether real Adepts or fraudulent pretenders, were subject to very embarrassing treatment by the generations among which they lived — always liable to be imprisoned and tortured to extort confessions of their secret. One of the true philosophers of alchemy, Alexander Sethon, author of a remarkable treatise called " An Open Entrance to the Closed Palace of the King," writes: " As if driven by the furies, I am compelled to fly from place to place and from kingdom to kingdom. . . . And thus though I possess all things I have no rest or enjoyment of any except in the truth which is my whole satisfaction. ... I am constrained even from the works of mercy, for fear of suspicion and arrest. I have experienced this in foreign countries where, having ventured to administer the medicine to sufferers given over by physicians, the instant the cures became known, a report was spread about the elixir, and I have been obliged to disguise myself, shave my head and change my name, to avoid falling into the hands of wicked persons, who would try to wrest the secret from me in the hopes of making gold." The history of the persecution of the alchemists, in spite of the precautions they took to avoid confronting the hostility of the Church, would take long to tell; but for the moment I am concerned with sketching the whole position in its general bearings, and will presently refer the reader to books in which the broad statements here put forward can be followed out in their details.

The common herd of materialistic critics have supposed that if the alchemists had been really successful, their secret would have been extorted from them, considering the treatment many of them received, and the modern tendency of thought has always been to disbelieve in the existence of any secret that is not disclosed. But already our partial familiarity with the conditions of occult knowledge gives us the clue to the mystery. When the first step to be taken towards acquiring the power to transmute lead into gold, was to transmute one's human into a semi-divine nature, it was obvious that the mere avaricious gold-seeker would be unable to take it, — unable probably to understand the idea, or to look upon such an explanation as other than a device for baulking his curiosity. A comprehension, in short, of the elementary principles of occult science at once illuminates all the otherwise insoluble riddles of the alchemical problem.

But why was the dangerous system of symbology, which concerned itself with gold and silver, adopted by the alchemists at all, if they were really spiritual philosophers? Was not this directly calculated to stir up the greedy passions of ordinary people and confront them with perils as serious, in another way, as those of the Inquisition which they sought to evade? The answer is, that they did not invent, but found the system of symbology in use from a period of antiquity long preceding the era of Roman Christianity and its persecuting priests. The alchemical version of spiritual philosophy dates back to the period of Hermes Trimesgistus, by some authors considered a fabulous personage, by some an Adept king of Egypt, who lived nearly 2,000 years before the Christian era. At all events the writings assigned to him are of great antiquity, and constitute the fountain-head of that Hermetic philosophy which in the Middle Ages becomes almost entirely merged in its alchemical developments, but which in very recent years, since the Theosophical movement has been in progress, has presented especial attractions to some inquiring minds as constituting a relatively Western stream of occult wisdom. And at all events, until very recent years, the Hermetic mystery summed up occult wisdom for all European inquirers, and its methods, its systems of exposition, were the only methods and systems available for them.

Further than this we have always to keep in view the fact that the alchemical symbology must have been especially attractive to many of the mediaeval students, because they were aware of its double significance. In the literal sense it referred to the possibility of an occult phenomenon, profoundly interesting, of course, to every student of Nature's obscurer mysteries, all the while that it equally described the sublime spiritual change from the lower human to the higher human or divine nature.

I pass on now to make some quotations from alchemical writings in support of the first position here taken up, that the alchemical philosophers had a transcendental purpose in view. Many of them, indeed, express this so plainly, that it is difficult to understand how their main purpose could have been misconstrued.

In "A New Light of Alchemy," ascribed to Michael Sendivogius, the author in his preface speaks of the many "adulterated books and false receipts" put forward by impostors, and of the "idle and ill-employed fellows who pretend that the soul may be extracted out of gold." Then he goes on:

"Yet let the sons of Hermes know for certain that such a kind of extraction of soul by what vulgar way of alchemy soever is but a mere fancy. On the contrary he which in a philosophical way can without any fraud and colourable deceit make it that it shall really tinge the basest metal with the colour of gold. . . I can justly aver hath the gates of Nature open to him for the inquiring into further and higher secrets, and with the blessing of God to obtain them. . . I would have the courteous reader be here admonished that he understand my writings not so much from the outside of my words as from the possibility of Nature lest afterwards he bewail his time, pains, and costs all spent in vain. Let him consider that his art is for the wise, not for the ignorant, and that the sense or meaning of philosophers is of another nature than to be understood by vapouring letter-learned scoffers. . . . For it is the gift of God, and truly it is not to be attained to but by the alone favour of God enlightening the understanding, together with a patient and devout humility, or by an ocular demonstration from some experienced master — wherefore God justly thrusts them far from his secrets that are strangers to him."

From the text of the book I will take one easily interpreted passage in which the alchemical symbology is employed.

"Sulphur " — clearly employed here to symbolise the conscience of Man — " is not the last among the principles because it is a part of the metal " — Man himself — " yea, and the principal part of the philosopher's stone, and many wise men have left in writing divers and very true things of sulphur. Yea, Geber himself in his first book of the highest perfection saith: 'Through the most high God it illuminates every body, because it is light from light and tincture.'"

It should be explained that directly we begin to read the alchemists we discover that they have no invariable and recognised code by which we can always recognise the same idea under the same symbol. The spirit of God manifesting as conscience in Man is sometimes spoken of as sulphur, sometimes as mercury. The normal unregenerate Man — the subject of the art and the object of the transmutation — is sometimes spoken of as lead, sometimes as antimony, or even by other of the baser metals, and with an anxious desire to guard all who were capable of appreciating an esoteric meaning the alchemists constantly warn their readers that "our" mercury and "our" sulphur are not the common mercury and sulphur. Then, again, the subject of the transmutation is sometimes written of as "Saturn," and astrological terms are employed to designate some of the other ideas handled — Sol, Luna, and Venus. Each writer is a law unto himself in such matters.

Sometimes, moreover, without any formal announcement that would be intelligible to the "ignorant" reader, the alchemists drop their symbols altogether, and as though making incidental remarks concerning the nature of the "artist" or seeker after the stone, discuss some of their deepest mysteries in plain language only guarded from the comprehension of the unworthy by not seeming to refer to their subject at all. Thus, in the "New Light of Alchemy," we read:

"Let, therefore, the searcher of this sacred science know that the soul in a man, the lesser world or microcosm substituting the place of its centre, is the king and is placed in the vital spirit in the purest blood. That governs the mind, and the mind the body. . . . Now the soul, by which man differs from other animals, operates in the body, but it hath a greater operation out of the body. ... So also God, the Maker of all things, works in this world those things which are necessary for the world, and in these he is included in the world, whence we believe that God is everywhere. But he is excluded from the body of the world by his infinite wisdom, by which he works out of the world and imagines much higher things. . . . The soul imagines, but executes not but in the mind, but God doth effect all things the same moment when he imagines them. . . . God, therefore, is not included in the world, but as the soul in the body. He hath his absolute power separated from the world. So also the soul of any body hath its absolute power separated from the body."

The writer of this passage evidently knew a good deal about the higher psychic phenomena now engaging the attention of the most advanced modern occultists. And his view of creation— of the material world as a manifestation of spirit on the physical plane — is on a level with the most profound Theosophical conceptions. It is amusing to contrast such philosophical ideas with the gross caricatures thereof presented to the world as religion by the churches of that day, and to reflect upon the fact that to this day almost all representatives of modern culture, except those illuminated by occult teaching, would treat the theologian, even of the Middle Ages, with comparative respect, and the alchemist as a crazy fool, floundering in the silliest superstition. Nothing tends more forcibly than an appreciative study of the alchemists to make us also appreciate at its true worth the blind conceit that has passed current for intelligence in the latter half of this expiring century.

I will now take an example of more obscure alchemical writing from Thomas Vaughan's "Aula Lucis." Vaughan wrote generally under the name Eugenius Philalethes in the middle of the seventeenth century. Some writers, he says, at the outset have rather buried the truth than dressed it. He proposes to observe a mean way, neither too obscure nor too open, but modern readers will probably conceive that he was principally careful not to be too open. Of the philosopher's stone — the Divine spirit required to transmute the lower nature of man, he says, "It is a subtile mineral moisture, a water so extremely thin and spiritual, with such a transcendent incredible brightness there is not in" all Nature any liquor like it, but itself. . . . I say they called it a stone to the end that no man might know what it was they called so." Of the "first matter" which he says may be described by contraries without inconvenience — very weak and yet most strong, fire that burns not, water that wets not, and so on — he proceeds to discourse at length, calling it mercury, the laughter of fools and the wonder of the wise. This is here evidently intended to represent the conscience; spiritual aspiration in the incarnate man; the first influence of the Higher Self in the physical consciousness. Then varying the metaphor he calls the subject of which he is discoursing "our sealed fountain." "In the bottom of this well lies an old dragon stretched along and fast asleep. Awake her if you can and make her drink, for by this means she will recover her youth and be serviceable to you for ever. In a word separate the eagle from the green lyon, then clip her wings and you have performed a miracle. . . . The eagle is the water, for it is volatile and flies up in the clouds as an eagle doth; but I speak not of any common water whatsoever. The green lion is the body or magical earth with which you must clip the wings of the eagle, that is to say, you must fix her so that she may fly no more." Most assuredly the constantly wavering and fluctuating allegories of the alchemists do not lend themselves readily to any direct translation into plain language, but it is none the less obvious that Vaughan is speaking here of the higher psychic faculties which may be taught to acquire consciousness on some superior spiritual plane of Nature, while still keeping up their relations with the bodily consciousness.

In a very fantastic treatise of the eighteenth century, called "The Hermetical Triumph," the usual warning is given very emphatically in the course of a dialogue between "Gold" and "The Stone." Gold is persistently maintaining the materialistic view of the science, and The Stone is continually reiterating such ideas as these: —

"But when they — the true philosophers — plainly name gold and mercury as the principles of their art. they only make use of these terms thereby to hide the knowledge from the ignorant, and from those who are unworthy, for they very well know that such vulgar wits mind only the names of things, the receipts, and the processes which they find written, without examining whether there be any solid foundation in what they put into practice. But the wise men consider all things with prudence, examine how consonant and how agreeing one thing is with another, and by these means they penetrate into the foundation of the art."

The extracts given so far I have selected myself from the various books referred to; but similar quotations in greater volume might be taken at second hand from either of two books of more recent date which are directed to an exposition of the true meaning and mystery of the Hermetic or alchemical art. To these books I would now refer all who are desirous of pursuing the subject further, and of obtaining a complete grasp of the principles I have roughly laid down. The first and most important is of great rarity, and has, I believe, been as far as possible withdrawn from circulation by the author, under the impression that its explanation sinned too much against the rule, "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine." The full title of this work is "A Suggestive Inquiry into the Hermetic Mystery; with a Dissertation on the more celebrated of the Alchemical Philosophers, being an attempt towards the recovery of the ancient experiment of Nature." The treatise was published anonymously in 1850. It contains a very interesting mass of testimony concerning the cases in which some of the true alchemists — those who by their own spiritual growth had first become adepts in the manipulation of the hidden forces of Nature — have actually accomplished the physical experiment of alchemy, so vainly attacked by all those who were not adepts; and it also goes at great length into the more esoteric view of the subject, furnishing, in connexion with a very extensive review of alchemical literature, abundant quotations bearing out the spiritual significance of the whole allegory.

Amongst other extracts it supplies us with a translation of the Tractatus Aureus, or golden treatise of Hermes, concerning the physical secret of the Philosopher's Stone, which it says " has been considered to be one of the most ancient and complete pieces of alchemical writing extant," and " an exposition in epitome of the whole art."

This is not what would be considered in the present day a luminous treatise. As for example, we read: —

"Know, then, that the division that was made upon the water by the ancient philosophers separates it into four substances: one into two and three into one, the third part of which is colour, as it were, a coagulated moisture; but the second and third waters are the weights of the Wise."

Still, however, even in the Tractatus Aureus we come constantly upon the usual warnings that we know how to interpret. Thus: —

"Know that this matter I call the stone; but it is also named the feminine of magnesia, or the hen, or the volatile milk, or the incombustible oil, in order that it may be hidden from the inept and the ignorant."

Again: —

"Ye sons of Wisdom, burn then the Brazen Body with an exceeding great fire, and it will yield gratefully what you desire. And see that you make that which is volatile so that it cannot fly, and by means of that which flies not."

Here we have merely another version of Vaughan's Green Lion and Eagle — a veiled reference to the possibilities connected with the cultivation of the higher psychic faculties.

Apparently without having come across the Suggestive Inquiry, an American writer, named Hitchcock, published a little book in 1857 — an amplification of a small pamphlet on the same subject, written two years previously, called "Remarks upon Alchemy and the Alchemists." The remainder of a somewhat old-fashioned title-page foreshadows the convictions which the author proceeds to set forth. He describes his book as " Indicating a method of discovering the true nature of Hermetic Philosophy, and showing that the search after the Philosopher's Stone had not for its object the discovery of an agent for the transmutation of metals. Being also an attempt to rescue from undeserved opprobrium the reputation of a class of extraordinary thinkers in past ages." At the outset of the book itself he says the object of his original pamphlet was to throw out an idea with which he had become strongly impressed, that the Philosopher's Stone was a mere symbol, and that the alchemists were not in pursuit of gold but wisdom, carefully and conscientiously leaving the latter word" undefined. This pamphlet having been violently and stupidly attacked in the Westminster Review, in 1856 the author came forward with a renewed justification of his argument, and this expanded into the book now before us. "I affirm," he says, " that the whole subject of Alchemy is Man. But each writer for the most part designates him by a word of his own choosing, hence one writes of antimony, another of lead, another of zinc, another of arsenip." And he quotes one of the alchemical writers as saying, " The work while yet crude is called our water permanent, our lead, our Saturn, our Jupiter; when better decocted, then it is argent, then magnesia and white sulphur; when it is red it is called auri-pigment coral, gold, ferment, or stone, a lucid water of celestial colour."

Mr. Hitchcock's pursuit of these intricate metaphors through the mazy wanderings of the two hundred separate alchemical books which he tells us he has accumulated, is very interesting and instructive. And I cannot understand how any reader of any reflective intelligence can follow him to the end and fail to be convinced that he is on the right track of interpretation. Mr. Hitchcock has not been occultist enough to divine all that resides in the alchemical philosophy, but although the Theosophist of the present generation, if he has taken advantage of all the opportunities held out to him, is in a position to see much more in alchemy than even Mr. Hitchcock saw, the admirable book he has produced will at least serve to open up the subject for those who may be sufficiently interested by what has been said here to feel inclined to venture further into an area of research which, to express myself in a paradoxical phrase congenial with the spirit of the authors I have been quoting, is at once forbidding and seductive. Alchemy, Mr. Hitchcock concedes, may have passed away, as his opponent had been arguing, never to return. "This may be so; but the questions about which the alchemists employed themselves have not passed away, and never shall pass away while man wanders upon the surface of the earth. They are the most interesting questions which the heart can propose, and although they begin in man, the answer must compass both the microcosm and the macrocosm."

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