The Natural Fire

In a word, they saw with their own eyes that Nature was male and female: “red fire upon the back of white fire,” as the Kabbalists express it. A certain fire of the deepest red works upon an intensely white, heavy, sexually ardent water. This water, too, is inwardly fire, although outwardly very cold. This practice revealed to them that God himself was fire, according to Eximidius in the Turba: “The beginning of all things is a certain nature, perpetual and infinite, nurturing and cooking everything.” [Vaughan’s English:] the beginning of all things, he says, is a certain nature, and

that nature is eternal and infinite, cherishing and warming all things. The truth is that life, which is nothing other than light and heat, originally proceeded from God and applied itself to the chaos, elegantly called by Zoroaster “the fountain of fountains, and of all fountains the womb containing everything.” [Vaughan’s rendering:] “the fountain of fountains, and of all fountains the matrix containing all things.” Experience shows that individuals live not only through their own heat, but are preserved by the external, universal heat which is the life of the great world. In just the same way, the great world itself does not live entirely through the heat which God has enclosed in its parts. It is preserved by the surrounding, inflowing heat of the Deity. For above the heavens God manifests himself like an infinite, burning world of light and fire, overlooking everything he has made; and the whole structure stands in his heat and light as a person here on earth stands in sunshine. I say, then, that the God of Nature engages in perpetual digestion, both to generate and to preserve what has been generated. His Spirit and heat coagulate what is thin, rarefy what is too gross, enliven the dead parts and cherish the cold. There is indeed one operation of heat whose method is vital and far more mysterious

than the rest. Those who have a use for it must study it. For my part, I have said everything I intend to say. Although my book may prove fruitless to many because it is not understood, a few may possess the spirit to comprehend it: “A great flame belongs to a great mind,” said the great Chaldaean. But because I will not leave you without some satisfaction, I advise you to take the moon of the firmament, which is a middle nature, and place her so that every part of her may be in two elements at the same time. These elements must attend her body equally, neither farther away nor nearer than the other. In regulating these two, a twofold geometry must be observed, natural and artificial. But I may say no more. The true furnace is a small, simple shell which you can easily carry in one hand. There is one glass vessel, and no more, although some philosophers have used two, and you may do so too. The work itself is in no way troublesome: a lady may read the Arcadia while attending to this philosophy without disturbing her imagination. I think women are better suited to it than men, being neater and more patient in such things, accustomed as they are to a small chemistry of sack possets and other delicate sugared dishes. Concerning this medicine’s effects, I shall say no

more at present. Whoever wishes to know them should read the Revelation of Paracelsus, a discourse altogether incomparable and truly marvellous. Here I shall give my judgement of honest Hohenheim without partiality. In the rest of his works, especially where he treats the stone, I find many false processes; but his general doctrine concerning it is very sound. The truth is that some pride accompanied his justified indignation. In many places he went wrong deliberately, caring little what bones he threw before the schoolmen: he was a pilot of Guadalcana, sometimes sailing upon his “river of recreation.” But I almost forgot to tell you what is everything in everything, and the greatest difficulty in the whole art: the fire. It is a close, airy, circular, bright fire. The philosophers call it their sun; and the glass must stand in the shade. It does not make the matter vaporise, or even so much as sweat: it only digests it with a quiet, penetrating, vital heat. It is continuous, and so eventually alters and corrupts the chaos. Its proportion and regulation are exceedingly delicate. The best rule for recognising it, however, is the Synod’s: “See that the pheasant does not fly ahead of its pursuer.” [Vaughan’s rendering:] do not let the bird fly before the fowler. Make it sit while you fire, and then you are sure of

your prey. To conclude, I must tell you that the philosophers called this fire their bath; but it is Nature’s bath, a natural bath, not an artificial one. It is no kind of water, but a certain subtle, temperate moisture which surrounds the glass and feeds their sun or fire. In a word, nothing in the world is generated without this bath. To understand better the degree of fire required for the work, consider the generation of a human being or any other creature. Neither kitchen fire nor fever works upon the sperm in the womb, but a thoroughly temperate, moist, natural heat proceeding from the mother’s own life. It is just the same here. Our matter is an extremely delicate substance, tender like animal sperm: it is almost a living thing, and indeed possesses a small portion of life, for Nature produces certain animals from it. For this very reason the least violence destroys it and prevents all generation. If it is overheated for only a few minutes, the white and red sulphurs will never unite and coagulate essentially. Conversely, if it takes cold for as little as half an hour once the work has properly begun, it will never come to any good result. I speak from experience: I have, as the saying goes, given myself a box on the ear, twice

or three times, through an overconfident negligence, expecting what I knew perfectly well could never happen. Nature moves through human practice, not human theory; and certainly ingenuity and reason can perform no miracles unless the hands supply their part. Be sure, then, to know this fire first of all, and accordingly to use it. For your greater assurance I shall describe it once more. It is a dry, vaporous, humid fire; it circulates around the glass and is both even and continuous. It is restless, and some have called it the white philosophical coal. It is natural in itself, although its preparation is artificial; it is a heat of the dead, which is why some call it their unnatural, necromantic fire. It forms no part of the matter, nor is it extracted from it. It is an external fire, serving only to stir up and strengthen the chaos’s inward, oppressed fire. But let us hear Nature herself, speaking in Mehung’s serious romance: “After putrefaction generation itself takes place, through the inward incombustible heat that warms the coldness of quicksilver. This undergoes only so much that it is finally united with its sulphur. All this is comprised in one vessel—namely fire, air and water—which I receive in their earthly vessel and leave together in one alembic. Then I cook,

dissolve and sublime them, without hammer, tongs or file, without coals, vapour, fire or a bath of Mary, and without the sophists’ alembics. For I have my heavenly fire, which awakens the elemental fire as the matter desires to possess a suitable and fitting form.” [Vaughan’s accompanying English:] after putrefaction comes generation, through the inward incombustible sulphur which heats, or thickens, the coldness and crudities of quicksilver. It undergoes so much through this that it is at last united with the sulphur and made one body with it. All this—namely fire, air and water—is contained in one vessel. I take them in their earthly vessel, that is, their gross body or compound, and leave them in one alembic, where I digest, dissolve and sublime them without hammer, tongs or file; without coals, smoke, fire or bath; and without the sophists’ alembics. For I have my heavenly fire, which excites or stirs up the elemental one according as the matter desires a becoming, fitting form. Now Nature is everywhere one and the same; hence she teaches the same lesson to Madathan, who, ignorantly thinking he could make the stone without dissolution, receives this rebuke from her: “Are you now trying to devour snails or crabs with their shells? Must they not first be ripened