A Preliminary Account of the Hermetic Philosophy, with the more Salient Points of its Public History
Part I, Chapter 1
This chapter opens Part I, “An Exoteric View of the Progress and Theory of Alchemy” (I.1 ¶1). It is a historical survey running from Hermes to the seventeenth-century adepts, and Atwood says plainly why she includes it: the history is meant to show that the propositions she will put forward later “are not gratuitous” (I.1 ¶4). Her main claim is that a single sacred and experimental science runs through the whole story. Its genuine masters were sincere, and they hid it on purpose. Its public disgrace came from frauds and from readers who took its veiled language literally, not from the doctrine itself (I.1 ¶53, ¶76, ¶86).
Hermes, the Emerald Table and the fall of Egypt
Atwood sets aside the question of where alchemy began. Her inquiry concerns “the means and principles of occult science” rather than the time and place they were discovered (I.1 ¶2). She treats the art as an “antique arifice coeval, for aught we know to the contrary, with the universe itself” (I.1 ¶3). On the name, she reports Plutarch: Egypt was called Chemia for its black soil, and the word also meant the pupil of the eye and “other black matters”. This may be why alchemy was called a “Black Art” (I.1 ¶5).
She begins the story with Hermes Trismegistus, an adept king. He was called “Thrice Great” for discovering “the quintessential perfectibility of the three kingdoms in their homogeneal unity” (I.1 ¶6). This chunk of the text never says which three kingdoms are meant. The surviving Hermetic books, the Poimander and the Asclepian Dialogues, treat “our divine capabilities and promise of regeneration”. The physical ground of these, together with the practical method, belongs to the Golden Treatise (I.1 ¶7). The Smaragdine (Emerald) Table is said to contain “the working principle and total subject of the art”, and Atwood quotes it in full. What is above is as what is below, “for performing the miracles of the One Thing”. The Sun is its father and the Moon its mother. Its power is “Integral, if it be turned into earth”. The reader is told to “separate the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross, gently”. It ascends and descends, and “So the world was created” (I.1 ¶9).
The Table, Atwood says, is all that remains of Egypt’s “Sacred Art”. Egypt initiated Pythagoras, Thales, Democritus and Plato into it and governed by it, until self-abuse and neglect of its law brought ruin (I.1 ¶10). The Asclepian prophecy had foretold this: religion would become fable, and the follower of the “Religion of Intellect” would be put to death (I.1 ¶10). In early Christianity, she adds, faith rested on “reality and living operation”, and regeneration was “rationally understood”. The decline came later, when “sacred mysteries, too openly exposed to the multitude, became perverted” (I.1 ¶11).
Greece, Alexandria and Rome
Under the Ptolemies, Egypt’s wisdom spread abroad (I.1 ¶12). Atwood names Democritus, whose Sacred Physics treats “that occult discovery” on which ancient philosophy seems to rest. She adds Maria, a Hebrew woman skilled in the Hermetic Art (I.1 ¶12–13). Quoting Norton, she says the masters all wrote “under coverts”, so that practitioners “leefe their costs”. Anaxagoras alone “wrote plainest of them all” (I.1 ¶15). Adepts blame Aristotle for hiding his knowledge. Atwood doubts that he deceived on purpose: he quarrelled only with the literal language of his predecessors: “he never quarrels with their true meaning” (I.1 ¶16). Plato’s dread of setting the truth down on paper suggests a practical science lay behind his teaching. Even so, she will not call Aristotle or Plato Hermetic philosophers. She expects to show that the theosophic schools rested on “a similar experimental ground” (I.1 ¶17). And she adds a rule of her own: “Wisdom must be sought for her own sake, neither for gold or silver” (I.1 ¶17).
Suidas reports that an emperor burned the chemical books because the Egyptians could make gold and silver. Cleopatra dissolved her earring in “such a sharp vinegar as is only known to philosophers” (I.1 ¶18). Rome’s perpetual lamps show knowledge of “the occult laws of light” (I.1 ¶18). Quoting Hermolaus Barbarus, Atwood describes a “divine water”, which is “a spirit of the nature of the ether”. Potable gold and the stone begin from it, and its ether burns forever if the outside air is kept away (I.1 ¶20). The text leaves open whether it fed the lamps. The adepts claim that the Bononian epitaph refers to “the occult material of their art”. That epitaph describes something that is neither man nor woman “but all”, and lies “everywhere” (I.1 ¶20–21). The alchemists say these contradictions describe “their universal subject”, and Atwood promises an explanation later (I.1 ¶24).
The early Church, the fall of Alexandria, and the Arabians
Tradition says St John practised the art for the poor, healing the sick and making gold and gems (I.1 ¶24–25). Atwood argues that the apostolic signs of water, oil, salt and light “signified some real and notable efficacies”. Two errors lost them. Reformers dismissed the signs as superstition, while others placed holiness in the material sign “apart from the spirit”. A true revival needs “cooperation of that original virtue” (I.1 ¶26). At Alexandria, Plotinus, Proclus and Jamblicus professed the Theurgic art and “experimental physics on the Hermetic ground”. Synesius swore to initiate only those “worthily prepared” (I.1 ¶27). After 640 the Mysteries were abandoned, and priests, “having forsaken the law of conscience, attempted to wield without it the rod of magic power”. The wise buried “their saving science in profound obscurity” (I.1 ¶30).
Geber ranks next after Hermes among the adepts (I.1 ¶31). Atwood answers the modern scoffers who make him the source of “gibberish”. The philosophers, she says, worked “Not with our gross elements, our mercuries, sulfurs, and our lifeless salts; but in a far different nature”, in a laboratory “compact in one”. His absurd literal recipes are “wisdom’s envelope”, which guards the work while lending “a helping hand to those who have already entered on the right road” (I.1 ¶33). Artephius says he publishes everything except one thing, which “can be revealed truly only by God, or by a master”. Yet even that point can be learned from his book by one who is not “stiff-necked” (I.1 ¶36).
The medieval adepts
Around the twelfth century “our Phoenix too bestirred herself, and passed into the West” (I.1 ¶37). Roger Bacon filled “his lamp from her reviviscent spirit”. By ascending and descending with it experimentally, he is said to have found “the secret ligature of natures”, proved that light can be multiplied “by the universal spirit of nature”, and produced gold. His conscience then led him to give it up (I.1 ¶38). The text leaves open whether the Phoenix is the art itself or something worked within it. In the adepts’ books “the roots of the Hermetic science are fairly stated; but the practice most carefully concealed” (I.1 ¶39).
Albert describes “the first matter of the adepts” from his own observation (I.1 ¶39). Those who sought the stone for gain “never found it”: “It is philosophers only that she teaches to make gold” (I.1 ¶39). Norton’s verse says scarcely three in a million are chosen (I.1 ¶40). The true adepts had “the purest possible” motives (I.1 ¶41). Aquinas holds that metals can be transmuted because “they are of one and the same matter”. He directs inquirers to “the higher purposes and application of the Divine Art, and universal theosophy”, not to “the multiplication of gold”, and asks that the secret be taught by mouth (I.1 ¶42).
Avarice, fraud and Flamel
After Lully (I.1 ¶47), “the spirit of avarice, bursting forth expectant, absolutely raged” (I.1 ¶49). Pretenders “who had no knowledge even of the preliminaries” put out books that placed the truth “in salts, or niters, or boraxes”, along with mutilated editions of the masters. As a result the world “learned to despise alchemy” (I.1 ¶53).
Flamel is quoted at length. He had “the prima material, the first principles, yet not their preparation, which is a thing most difficult above all things”. After three years of prayer, study and trial he recognised what he sought “by the scent and odor thereof”. From then on he followed his book literally and “could not then miss the work” (I.1 ¶57). His first projection on mercury gave silver, and the Red Stone gave gold. The perfected Stone “takes away from him the root of all sin”, provided the work is carried “to its legitimate end” (I.1 ¶57).
Quoting Norton, many found “our White Stone”, but the Red cannot be sought “Till the white medicine be fully wrought” (I.1 ¶60). Norton’s Ordinal is candid except for “the Subject Matter and certain preliminaries, which are constantly concealed” (I.1 ¶64). Ashmole knows “enough to hold my tongue, but not enough to speak” (I.1 ¶62). Agrippa wrote that he “could tell many tings of this art, if I had not sworn to keep silence”. He also spoke of “the one blessed stone alone, besides which there is no other thing” (I.1 ¶64). Atwood reads his Vanity of the Sciences as a consummation of his work, not a recantation (I.1 ¶64). Ripley’s list of failed experiments on vitriol, urine, blood and corrosives ends: “In delibi principio was myne inception: Therefore was frawde in fine the conclusion” (I.1 ¶65).
Persecution and the later adepts
Public trust turned to hatred, and true adepts were tortured, “for the public knew not to distinguish” (I.1 ¶66). Seton (or Philalethes, by the text’s own correction) owns all things but finds rest only “in the truth” (I.1 ¶66). Boehme is “the plainest, simplest, and most confidential exponent” of those who “entered experimentally into the mystery”, and he points to “the occult material of the philosophers’ stone”. But he revealed the old wisdom “theosophically, but not intellectually” (I.1 ¶68, ¶70). Sendivogius’s New Light needs “repeated perusal and a certain knowledge” because of its “willful disorder” (I.1 ¶71). Eirenaeus Philalethes is the foremost later adept (I.1 ¶73). Thomas Vaughan shows “the one Art and medium of vital perfectibility” more clearly than any other English author (I.1 ¶74).
The testimony, and why the world rejects it
Atwood argues that if alchemy is folly, it implies ages of fraud by revered authorities. Delusion is unlikely, since transmutation “was a proof addressed to the senses” (I.1 ¶76). Van Helmont cast a quarter grain onto boiling quicksilver and got gold. Paracelsus describes the tincture’s “astral fire” and its ruby colour and great weight. Geber and Pico witnessed the result (I.1 ¶76). Many adepts renounced wealth, which tells against wilful deceit (I.1 ¶79). Khunrath promises the reader will “see Azoth, viz., the Universal Mercury” with his own eyes and handle it (I.1 ¶81).
The world rejects the art, Atwood says, because the adepts never declared “even the common Subject of their Art”. Instead they scrambled their discourses “according to the cabalistic method” (I.1 ¶82). Quoting Norton, each master “disclosed but a parte” (I.1 ¶83). The adepts warn against literal reading. Artephius says the literal reader “has already lost the clue to Ariadne”. Sendivogius tells readers to read “from the possibility of nature”. Ripley says “In horrid metaphors veiled are an art most plain”. Bacon tells them to “operate according to the blood; i.e., according to the understanding” (I.1 ¶84–86). So Atwood will first examine “the theoretic ground and matter” of transmutation (I.1 ¶86).
The Work in this chapter
- Subject. It is “the One Thing”, from which all arose “by adaptation” (I.1 ¶9). The epitaphs’ “universal subject” is “everywhere” (I.1 ¶21, ¶24), and Agrippa’s “one blessed stone” has no other beside it (I.1 ¶64). Plain meaning: the work has a single subject that is never openly named (stated: I.1 ¶64, ¶82). It is not common salts, sulphurs or mercuries (stated: I.1 ¶33, ¶53, ¶65).
- Agent. The “divine water”, “a spirit of the nature of the ether” (stated, I.1 ¶20). Khunrath’s Azoth, “the Universal Mercury”, “with its internal and external fire” (stated, I.1 ¶81). “The universal spirit of nature” ascends and descends (interpreted, I.1 ¶38, ¶74).
- Procedure. “Separate the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross, gently” (interpreted; which term pairs with which is left open, I.1 ¶9). Preparation of the “first principles” is the hardest step (stated, I.1 ¶57). Understanding must come before practice: “leave off experiments, apprehend my meaning” (stated, I.1 ¶86).
- Stages and signs. The White Stone comes before the Red (stated, I.1 ¶60). Flamel’s sign was scent (interpreted, I.1 ¶57). The finished tincture is ruby-red and very heavy (stated, I.1 ¶76). Projection means casting a small quantity of it on mercury (stated, I.1 ¶57, ¶76).
- Operator. Pure motives (I.1 ¶39, ¶41), conscience (I.1 ¶30), teaching by a master or by mouth (I.1 ¶36, ¶42), and practice confirmed by experience (I.1 ¶62). All stated.
- Impediments. Avarice, literal reading, false books, and texts scrambled on purpose (stated, I.1 ¶53, ¶82). An overdose of the elixir can kill (interpreted, I.1 ¶64, ¶74).
- Result. Gold “better than the gold of the mines”, healing, and power “over all nature” (stated, I.1 ¶57, ¶66, ¶86). Moral regeneration of the maker (stated, I.1 ¶57). “Vital perfectibility” (interpreted, I.1 ¶74).
Terms introduced
- Hermetic art / Sacred Art / Divine Art: the alchemical science, said to come from Egypt (I.1 ¶10, ¶42).
- One Thing: in the Emerald Table, the single source and subject of the work (I.1 ¶9).
- three kingdoms: what Hermes found “perfectible” in their unity; not named in this chapter (I.1 ¶6).
- regeneration: human renewal, once “rationally understood”, whose physical ground is given in the Golden Treatise (I.1 ¶7, ¶11).
- divine water: an ethereal spirit from which the stone begins (I.1 ¶20).
- universal subject / Subject Matter: the matter of the work, always concealed (I.1 ¶24, ¶64, ¶82).
- first matter / prima material: the starting principles, distinct from their preparation (I.1 ¶39, ¶57).
- magistery: the work as a whole (I.1 ¶33, ¶57).
- projection: casting the finished powder on a base metal (I.1 ¶57, ¶76).
- White Stone / Red Stone: the earlier and later products; the Red is rarer (I.1 ¶60).
- elixir / tincture / medicine: the finished agent, which transmutes and heals (I.1 ¶66, ¶76).
- Azoth: the Universal Mercury (I.1 ¶81).
- astral fire: the tincture’s assimilating inner fire (I.1 ¶76).
- cabalistic method: deliberately putting a text out of order (I.1 ¶64, ¶82).
- types: sacramental signs standing for real powers (I.1 ¶26).
- Religion of Intellect: the faith outlawed in the age of decline (I.1 ¶10, ¶30).
- blood: in Bacon’s phrase, the understanding (I.1 ¶86).
- adept / pseudo-alchemist: a true master, set against a pretender (I.1 ¶41, ¶53).
Authorities cited
The Hermetic books (Smaragdine Table, Asclepian Dialogues, Poimander, Tractatus Aureus) give the art’s principle and the prophecy of Egypt’s fall (I.1 ¶7–11). Plutarch and Suidas are cited on the name and the book-burning (I.1 ¶5, ¶18). Kircher, Borrichius and Vallensis support the art’s antiquity; Conringius is rejected (I.1 ¶3). Norton’s Ordinal is quoted on veiled writing, the few chosen, white before red, and parts given out of order (I.1 ¶15, ¶40, ¶60, ¶83). Hermolaus Barbarus and Khunrath are cited on the divine water and Azoth (I.1 ¶20, ¶81). Geber, Artephius, Bacon, Albert, Aquinas, Lully, Flamel, Agrippa, Ripley, Sendivogius, Paracelsus, Van Helmont and Pico witness to the practice and its concealment (I.1 ¶33–86). Ashmole, Boehme, Maier, Philalethes and Thomas Vaughan are judged as guides (I.1 ¶62–74). The skeptic Dufresnoy and the Faraday Society address are answered (I.1 ¶33, ¶75). Many other names are bare references.