A Modern Inquiry into the Hermetic Mystery
Part I: An Overview of Alchemy’s History and Theory
Chapter 1: Introduction to Hermetic Philosophy (Continued)
The True Adepts and Their Motives
True alchemists, though rare, stood out as exceptional figures, celebrated despite criticism and misunderstanding. Their writings reveal pure motives—truth, morality, piety, and intelligence—unlike the reckless greed of false alchemists. Albertus Magnus, described as “great in magic, greater in philosophy, greatest in theology,” passed his wisdom to his disciple, Thomas Aquinas, a brilliant and saintly scholar.
Aquinas wrote extensively on transmutation, openly discussing his and Albert’s successes in the secret art in works like Thesaurus Alchimiae, dedicated to Abbot Reginald. He stated clearly, “Metals can be transformed from one to another, as they share the same fundamental substance.” Despite attempts by some to downplay his claims for the sake of his intellectual reputation, Aquinas’s writings, such as De Esse et Essentia, leave no doubt about his commitment to alchemy. He urged caution, advising, “Do as I taught you in person, not in writing, for it would be wrong to reveal this secret to those who seek it for vanity rather than its true purpose. Guard your words, don’t cast wisdom before the unworthy, and focus on salvation and preaching Christ, not chasing temporary wealth.” His works sometimes veil details to protect the art’s higher spiritual goals, which went beyond merely creating gold.
Arnold de Villanova’s skill was also undeniable, supported by contemporary accounts of his transmutations. Jurist John Andreas and others, like Oldradus and Abbot Panormitanus, praised his rational and beneficial work. His numerous writings, including the Rosarium Philosophicum and Speculum, are highly regarded, published in collections like the Theatrum Chemicum. Alain de l’Isle, another adept, reportedly obtained the elixir, though his key treatise was excluded from his main works due to prejudice. His commentary on Merlin’s prophecies, tied to alchemical secrets, survives in the Theatrum Chemicum.
Raymond Lully and the Spread of Alchemy
By the late 14th century, alchemy’s popularity surged as respected figures like Raymond Lully confirmed its reality with tangible results. Lully, a well-traveled missionary known for his Christian zeal, learned alchemy late in life, possibly from Arnold de Villanova. His endorsements carried weight, as he was no cloistered scholar but a public figure. John Cremer, Abbot of Westminster, spent 30 years struggling with the cryptic texts of earlier adepts until Lully’s fame reached him. Cremer sought Lully in Italy, gained his trust, and learned the art’s methods, inspired by Lully’s pious and charitable life.
Cremer invited Lully to England, where King Edward II, eager for wealth, welcomed him. Lully agreed to produce gold for the king’s crusades, reportedly transmuting 50,000 pounds of quicksilver, lead, and tin into pure gold in the Tower of London. He later wrote, “I converted at one time 50,000 pounds weight of quicksilver, lead, and tin into gold.” However, the king broke his promise, imprisoning Lully to force more production. Cremer, outraged, recorded this betrayal in his Testament. Lully escaped, and the gold was minted into coins called Nobles of the Rose, noted for their exceptional purity, as described by Camden and others. Later, during repairs at Westminster, workers found transmuting powder left by Lully, enriching them, as reported by scholars like Olaus Borrichius and Dickenson.
Lully’s writings, like those of other adepts, are deliberately obscure to deter greedy seekers. His Theoria et Practica is among the best, though its coded language requires deep study. With over 200 works attributed to him, Lully’s contributions remain significant, despite debates about his late embrace of alchemy.
The Frenzy and Fall of Alchemy
By this time, alchemy’s possibility was widely accepted, drawing people from all walks of life—popes, cardinals, kings, merchants, and craftsmen. Thomas Norton’s Ordinal of Alchemy captures this fervor:
Popes, cardinals, bishops, and kings,
Merchants burning with greed, and common workers,
All sought this noble craft.
Goldsmiths believed due to their trade,
But brewers, masons, tailors, and clerks joined in,
Driven by presumption, yet often deceived.
Many lost their wealth, yet clung to hope,
But without deep wisdom, they found only scorn.
This subtle science of holy alchemy
Is the profoundest philosophy, not for fools.
The art’s public success fueled a frenzy, with greed often overshadowing wisdom. False alchemists, lacking true knowledge, deceived others or themselves, tarnishing the art’s reputation. Fraudulent books spread confusion, promoting salts, nitres, or random plants as the key, while corrupted editions of masters’ works added errors. As Norton lamented, “A monk wrote a book of a thousand false recipes, causing loss and turning honest men false.”
This led to social chaos, with merchants losing fortunes to tricksters. By the 14th and 15th centuries, England’s Parliament and papal bulls banned transmutation, threatening death. Yet, figures like Pope John XXII, who issued such bans, reportedly practiced alchemy to enrich the treasury. Secret experiments continued, driven by both philosophers and rogues.
Nicholas Flammel’s Legacy
Among the most compelling stories is that of Nicholas Flammel and his wife Pernelle, whose humble beginnings, sudden wealth, and charity made them legends. Flammel, a Parisian scrivener, recounted in 1413:
I, Nicholas Flammel, born in 1399, learned little Latin due to my parents’ poverty, yet God blessed me with understanding. After their death, I earned a living copying texts. By chance, I bought a gilded book for two florins, not of paper but tree bark, with a brass cover engraved with strange letters, perhaps Greek. Its pages, written in neat Latin, were marked every seventh leaf with painted figures. Unable to read it, I sought help. A Jewish scholar I met while traveling explained its hieroglyphs. Returning home, I worked for three years, studying and experimenting, until I found the first principles. On January 17, 1382, with Pernelle, I turned a pound and a half of mercury into silver, better than mined. On April 25, I made gold, softer and purer than common gold. I did this three times, with Pernelle’s help, who understood it as well as I. We depicted our process on a chapel door in Paris, giving thanks to God.
Flammel found joy not in wealth but in nature’s wonders, seen in his vessels. Fearing Pernelle might reveal their secret, he was relieved by her wisdom and restraint. Together, they founded 14 hospitals, three chapels, and seven churches in Paris, and similar works in Boulogne, all adorned with symbols of the art, veiled to guide only the wise. Flammel believed the philosopher’s stone transformed not just metals but the soul, turning evil into good and inspiring piety.
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