A commission was immediately assigned, and it was followed by a literary scene of singular novelty.
Dee, sitting in his library, received the royal commissioners. Two tables were arranged; on one lay all the books he had published, with his unfinished manuscripts; the most extraordinary one was an elaborate narrative of the transactions of his own life. This manuscript his secretary read, and as it proceeded, from the other table Dee presented the commissioners with every testimonial; these vouchers consisted of royal letters from the queen, and from princes, ambassadors, and the most illustrious persons of England and of Europe: passports which traced his routes, and journals which noted his arrivals and departures: grants and appointments, and other remarkable evidences; and when these were wanting, he appealed to living witnesses.
Among the employments which he had filled, he particularly alludes to “a painful journey in the winter season, of more than fifteen hundred miles, to confer with learned physicians on the Continent, about her majesty’s health.” He showed the offers of many princes to the English philosopher to retire to their courts, and the princely establishment at Moscow proffered by the czar; but he had never faltered in his devotion to his sovereign. He appealed to the clerks of the records of the Tower, and to other antiquaries,[14] for his free distribution of the manuscripts which he had often discovered. He complains that his house at Mortlake was too public for his studies, and incommodious for receiving the numerous foreign literati who resorted to him. Of all the promised preferments, he would have chosen the Mastership of St. Cross for its seclusion. Here is a great man making great demands, but reposing with dignity on his claims; his wants were urgent, but the penury was not in his spirit. The commissioners, as they listened to this autobiography, must often have raised their eyes in wonder on the venerable and dignified author before them.
The report was most favourable; the queen spontaneously declared that Dee should have St. Cross, and the incumbent might be removed to a bishopric. She allotted him a considerable pension, and commanded Lady Howard to write “words of comfort” to his wife; and further sent an immediate supply by the hands of Sir Thomas Gorge. The letter to his wife and the ready money were, however, the only tangible gift, for St. Cross and the pension he never received!
Two years after we find Dee still memorialising. He published “A Letter Apologetical, with a Plain Demonstration and Fervent Protestation for the Course of the Philosophical Studies of a Certain Studious Gentleman,” 1599. This was a vindication against the odium of magical practices. At length, the archbishop installed him in the wardenship of Manchester College; but though our adventurer now drew into harbour, it was his destiny to live in storms. The inmates always suspected him of concealing more secrets of nature than he was willing to impart; and the philosopher who had received from great men in Europe such testimonies of their admiration, now was hourly mortified by the petty malice of the obscure fellows of his college. After several years of contention, he resigned a college which no occult arts he possessed could govern.
His royal patroness was no more. The light and splendour of the Court had sunk beneath the horizon; and in the chill evening of his life the visionary looked up to those who were not susceptible of his innocent sorcery. Still retaining his lofty pretensions, he addressed the King, and afterwards the parliament. He implored to be freed from vulgar calumnies, and to be brought to trial, that a judicial sentence might clear him of all those foul suspicions which had clouded over his days for more than half a century. It is to be regretted that this trial did not take place; the accusations and the defence would have supplied no incurious chapter in the history of the human mind. A necromancer, and a favourite with Elizabeth, was not likely to be tolerated in the Court of James the First. Cecil, who when young had been taught by his father to admire the erudition of the reformer of the Gregorian calendar, was not the same person in the Court of James the First as in that of Elizabeth; he resigned the sage to his solitude, and, with the policy of the statesman, only reasonably enough observed, that “Dee would shortly go mad!”
Misfortune could neither break nor change the ambitious spirit of the deserted philosopher. He still dreamed in a spiritual world which he never saw nor heard, and hopefully went on working his stills, deprived of the powder of projection. He sold his books for a meal; and if the gossiper Aubrey may be trusted, in such daily distress he may have practised on the simplicity of his humble neighbours, by sometimes recovering a stolen basket of linen, though it seems he refused the more solemn conjuration of casting a figure for a stray horse! It is only in this degradation of sordid misery that he is shown to us in the Alchemist of Jonson. Weary, as he aptly expresses himself, of “sailing against the wind’s eye,” in 1608, in the eighty-first year of his age, he resolved to abandon his native land. There was still another and a better world for the pilgrim of science; and it was during the preparations to rejoin his Continental friends in Germany that death closed all future sorrows.
It was half a century after the decease of Dr. Dee, that the learned Meric Casaubon amazed the world by publishing the large folio containing “A True and Faithful Relation of what passed many Years between Dr. John Dee and SOME SPIRITS,” 1659, from a copy in the Cottonian Library. Yet is this huge volume but a torso; the mighty fragments, however, were recovered from the mischances of a kitchen fire, by Elias Ashmole, a virtuoso in alchemy and astrology, who toiled and trembled over the mystical and almost the interminable quires. Such is the fate of books! the world will for ever want the glorious fragments of Tacitus and Livy, but they have Dee passingly entire.[15]
Meric Casaubon was the learned son of a more learned father, but his erudition much exceeded his judgment. He had written a treatise against the delusions of “Enthusiasm,” from whence the author derived but little benefit; for he demonstrated the existence of witches. Yet Meric Casaubon, meek and honest, was solicited by Cromwell to become his historiographer; but from principle he declined the profit and the honour; during the Oliverian rule, he became an hypochondriac, and has prefixed an hypochondriacal preface to this unparalleled volume. His faith is obsequious, and he confirms the verity of these conferences with “spirits,” by showing that others before Dee had enjoyed such visitations. The fascination of a conference with “spirits” must have entered into the creed even of higher philosophers; for we are startled by discovering that the great Leibnitz observed on this preface, that “it deserves to be translated, as well as the work itself!”[16]