Rosa Alchemica | Page 7

ever seen. There were the works of
Morienus, who hid his immortal body under a shirt of hair-cloth; of Avicenna, who was a
drunkard and yet controlled numberless legions of spirits; of Alfarabi, who put so many
spirits into his lute that he could make men laugh, or weep, or fall in deadly trance as he
would; of Lully, who transformed himself into the likeness of a red cock; of Flamel, who
with his wife Parnella achieved the elixir many hundreds of years ago, and is fabled to
live still in Arabia among the Dervishes; and of many of less fame. There were very few
mystics but alchemical mystics, and because, I had little doubt, of the devotion to one god
of the greater number and of the limited sense of beauty, which Robartes would hold an
inevitable consequence; but I did notice a complete set of facsimiles of the prophetical
writings of William Blake, and probably because of the multitudes that thronged his
illumination and were 'like the gay fishes on the wave when the moon sucks up the dew.'

I noted also many poets and prose writers of every age, but only those who were a little
weary of life, as indeed the greatest have been everywhere, and who cast their
imagination to us, as a something they needed no longer now that they were going up in
their fiery chariots.
Presently I heard a tap at the door, and a woman came in and laid a little fruit upon the
table. I judged that she had once been handsome, but her cheeks were hollowed by what I
would have held, had I seen her anywhere else, an excitement of the flesh and a thirst for
pleasure, instead of which it doubtless was an excitement of the imagination and a thirst
for beauty. I asked her some question concerning the ceremony, but getting no answer
except a shake of the head, saw that I must await initiation in silence. When I had eaten,
she came again, and having laid a curiously wrought bronze box on the table, lighted the
candles, and took away the plates and the remnants. So soon as I was alone, I turned to
the box, and found that the peacocks of Hera spread out their tails over the sides and lid,
against a background, on which were wrought great stars, as though to affirm that the
heavens were a part of their glory. In the box was a book bound in vellum, and having
upon the vellum and in very delicate colours, and in gold, the alchemical rose with many
spears thrusting against it, but in vain, as was shown by the shattered points of those
nearest to the petals. The book was written upon vellum, and in beautiful clear letters,
interspersed with symbolical pictures and illuminations, after the manner of the Splendor
Soils.
The first chapter described how six students, of Celtic descent, gave themselves
separately to the study of alchemy, and solved, one the mystery of the Pelican, another
the mystery of the green Dragon, another the mystery of the Eagle, another that of Salt
and Mercury. What seemed a succession of accidents, but was, the book declared, the
contrivance of preternatural powers, brought them together in the garden of an inn in the
South of France, and while they talked together the thought came to them that alchemy
was the gradual distillation of the contents of the soul, until they were ready to put off the
mortal and put on the immortal. An owl passed, rustling among the vine-leaves overhead,
and then an old woman came, leaning upon a stick, and, sitting close to them, took up the
thought where they had dropped it. Having expounded the whole principle of spiritual
alchemy, and bid them found the Order of the Alchemical Rose, she passed from among
them, and when they would have followed she was nowhere to be seen. They formed
themselves into an Order, holding their goods and making their researches in common,
and, as they became perfect in the alchemical doctrine, apparitions came and went among
them, and taught them more and more marvellous mysteries. The book then went on to
expound so much of these as the neophyte was permitted to know, dealing at the outset
and at considerable length with the independent reality of our thoughts, which was, it
declared, the doctrine from which all true doctrines rose. If you imagine, it said, the
semblance of a living being, it is at once possessed by a wandering soul, and goes hither
and thither working good or evil, until the moment of its death has come; and gave many
examples, received, it said, from many gods. Eros had taught them how to fashion forms
in which a divine soul