As examples of the kind of explanation given by alchemists of those aspects of Nature which they professed to study, I give two quotations from translations of the writings of Basil Valentine and Paracelsus, who flourished in the first half of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries respectively.
"Think most diligently about this; often bear in mind, observe and comprehend that all minerals and metals together, in the same time, and after the same fashion, and of one and the same principal matter, are produced and generated. That matter is no other than a mere vapour, which is extracted from the elementary earth by the superior stars, or by a sidereal distillation of the macrocosm; which sidereal hot infusion, with an airy sulphureous property, descending upon inferiors, so acts and operates as that there is implanted, spiritually and invisibly, a certain power and virtue in those metals and minerals; which fume, moreover, resolves in the earth into a certain water wherefrom all metals are thenceforth generated and ripened to their perfection, and thence proceeds this or that metal or mineral, according as one of the three principles acquires dominion and they have much or little of sulphur and salt, or an unequal mixture of these; whence some metals are fixed, that is, constant or stable; and some are volatile and easily changeable, as is seen in gold, silver, copper, iron, tin and lead."
"The life of metals is a secret fatness; of salts, the spirit of aqua fortis; of pearls, their splendour; of marcasites and antimony, a tingeing metalline spirit; of arsenics, a mineral and coagulated poison. The life of all men is nothing else but an astral balsam, a balsamic impression, and a celestial invisible fire, an included air, and a tingeing spirit of salt. I cannot name it more plainly, although it is set out by many names."
When the alchemists gave directions for making the stone which was to turn all it touched into gold, they couched them in such strange and symbolical language as this: "After our serpent has been bound by her chain, penetrated with the blood of our green dragon, and driven nine or ten times through the combustible fire into the elementary air, if you do not find her to be exceeding furious and extremely penetrating, it is a sign that you do not hit our subject, the notion of the homogenea, or their proportion; if this furious serpent does not come over in a cloud and turn into our virgin milk, or argentine water, not corrosive at all and yet insensibly and invisibly devouring everything that comes near it, it is plainly to be seen that you err in the notion of our universal menstruum." Or, again, what could any reasonable man make of this? "In the green lion's bed the sun and moon are born; they are married and beget a king. The king feeds on the lion's blood, which is the king's father and mother, who are at the same time his brother and sister. I fear I betray the secret, which I promised my master to conceal in dark speech from any one who knows not how to rule the philosopher's fire."
Concerning the same lion, another learned author says that "though called a lion, it is not an animal substance, but for its transcendant force, and the rawness of its origin, it is called the green lion." But he adds in a moment of confidence: "This horrid beast has so many names, that unless God direct the searcher it is impossible to distinguish him."
And once more. "Take our two serpents, which are to be found everywhere on the face of the earth: tie them in a love-knot and shut them up in the Arabian caraha. This is the first labour; but the next is more difficult. Thou must encamp against them with the fire of nature, and be sure thou dost bring thy line round about. Circle them in and stop all avenues that they find no relief. Continue this siege patiently, and they turn into an ugly venomous black toad, which will be transformed to a horrible devouring dragon, creeping and weltering in the bottom of her cave without wings. Touch her not by any means, for there is not on earth such a vehement transcending poison. As thou hast begun so proceed, and this dragon will turn into a swan. Henceforth I will show thee how to fortify thy fire till the phœnix appear: it is a red bird of a most deep colour, with a shining fiery hue. Feed this bird with the fire of his father and the ether of his mother: for the first is meat and the second is drink, and without this last he attains not to his full glory. Be sure to understand this secret," etc., etc.
The alchemists spoke of twelve gates through which he who would attain to the palace of true art must pass: these twelve gates were to be unlocked by twelve keys, descriptions of which, couched in strange and symbolical language, were given in alchemical treatises. Thus in "Ripley reviv'd"[2] we read that Canon Ripley, of Bridlington, who lived in the time of Edward IV., sang thus of the first gate, which was "Calcination:"—
"The battle's fought, the conquest won,
The Lyon dead reviv'd;
The eagle's dead which did him slay,
And both of sense depriv'd.
The showers cease, the dews which fell
For six weeks do not rise;
The ugly toad that did so swell
With swelling bursts and dies."
And of the third gate, or "Conjunction," we find the Canon saying—
"He was a king, yet dead as dead could be;
His sister a queen,
Who when her brother she did breathless see,
The like was never seen,
She cryes
Until her eyes
With over-weeping were waxed dim—
So long till her tears
Reach'd up to her ears:
The queen sunk, but the king did swim."