In This 'House of LIght'...

Thomas Vaughan was a Welsh philosopher, now remembered for his writings in the area of natural magic. Also known as a Rosicrucian Apologist... among other things. From Wikipedia... "Although he did not practice medicine, Vaughan sought to apply his chemical skills to preparing medicines in the manner recommended by Paracelsus. He corresponded with Samuel Hartlib, who by 1650 was paying attention to Vaughan as author, and established a reputation with his book Anthroposophia Theomagica, a magico-mystical work. Vaughan was the author of tracts published under the pseudonym Eugenius Philalethes, as is now generally agreed.

Vaughan was unusual amongst alchemists of the time in that he worked closely with his wife Rebecca Vaughan. He was a self-described member of the "Society of Unknown Philosophers", and was responsible for translating into English in 1652 the Fama Fraternitatis Rosae Crucis, an anonymous Rosicrucian manifesto first published in 1614 in Kassel.

Allen G. Debus has written that a simple explanation of Vaughan's natural philosophy, in its mature form, is as the De occulta of Cornelius Agrippa, in an exposition coming via the views of Michael Sendivogius. As a writer in the school of Sendivogius, Vaughan follows Jacques de Nuisement and Andreas Orthelius. He placed himself in the tradition of the Rosicrucian reformers of education, and of Johannes Trithemius, his teacher Libanius Gallus, and Pelagius of Majorca, teacher of Libanius (of whom the last two are not known to have been real people apart from what Trithemius relates of them)..."
Born: April 17, 1621, United Kingdom
Died: 1666
Education: Jesus College, Oxford
Books: The Works of Thomas Vaughn, Euphrates: Or, the Waters of the East

I heard earlier that there was a white light shining in the east... I think that Eugenius would smile at that...



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I will also add bolded lines of my own commentary between Thomas's observations; see what you think of the correlations that I can make here, and please feel free to add your own commentary...

The consequences of this prison, which sometimes are sad, and the steps that lead to it, are most elegantly expressed in the oracles. "A steep descent extends beneath the earth, leading seven ways by stages and beneath which is the throne of a horrible necessity." Ding, dong, dell... Kitty's in the well... lol... I couldn't resist. This reminds me of the 'Descent of Inanna,' the original version of Christ's descent into Hell, perhaps... recall also the place of necessity and freedom... as well as the reference to the oracles.

In a word, all things in the world — as well events as substances — flow out of this well. Hence come our fortunes and our misfortunes, our riches and our poverty, and this according to the scales of the Supreme Agent, in his dispensations of light and darkness. We see there is a certain face of light in all those things which are very dear or very precious to us. For example, in beauty, gold, silver, pearls, and in everything that is pleasant or carries with it any opinion of happiness — in all such things I say there is inherent a certain secret, concomitant lustre, and while they last the possessors also are subject to a clearness and serenity of mind. On the contrary, in all adversity there is a certain corroding, heavy sadness, for the spirit grieves because he is eclipsed and overcast with darkness. We know well enough that poverty is but obscurity, and certainly in all disasters there is a kind of cloud or something that answers to it. In people that are very unfortunate this darkness has a character, and especially in the forehead there lies a notable judgment; but there are few who can read in such books. Of this Vergil — who was a great poet but a greater philosopher — was not ignorant, for describing Marcellus in the Elysian fields he makes his sad countenance an argument of his short life. Notice that poor Marcellus also seems to have suffered from the 'grouchy-resting-face condition,' which is reflected in the forehead; there is a certain mark that is said to be reflected in the forehead, as it so happens, which has to do with the Cross of Lorraine, as well... it is not, perhaps, 'related,' but I do find the correlations here to be interesting, myself. And, it explains a lot... lol..

Aeneas here beheld, of form divine:
A godlike youth in glittering armor shine,
With great Marcellus keeping equal pace:
But gloomy were his eyes, dejected was his face.
He saw, and wondering ask'd his airy guide
What and of whence was he who pressed the hero's side;
His son: or one of his illustrious name;
How like the former and almost the same.
Observe the crowd that compass him around:
All gaze and all admire, and raise a shouting sound.
But hovering mists around his brows are spread
And night with sable shades involves his head.

But these are things that ought not to be publicly discussed, and therefore I shall omit them. He that desires to be happy let him look after light, for it is the cause of happiness, both temporal and eternal. In the house thereof it may be found, and the house is not far off nor hard to find, for the light walks in before us and is the guide to his own habitation. It is the light that forms the gold and the ruby, the adamant and the silver, and he is the artist that shapes all things. He that has him has the mint of Nature and a treasure altogether inexhaustible. He is blessed with the elect substance of heaven and earth, and in the opinion of the Turba "deserves to be called blessed and is raised above the circle of the earth." Nor indeed without reason, for Nature herself dictates to us and tells us that our happiness consists in light. Hence it is that we naturally love the light and rejoice in it, as a thing agreeable and beneficial to us. On the contrary, we fear the darkness and are surprised in it with a certain horror and a timorous expectation of some hurt that may befall us. It is light then that we must look after, but of itself it is so thin and spiritual we cannot lay hands upon it and make it our possession. We cannot confine it to any one place, that it may no more rise and set with the sun. We cannot shut it up in a cabinet, that we may use it when we please, and in the dark night see a glorious illustration. A reference to the 'artist,' which may be otherwise known as 'Elias the artist' that is expected to come...? also references the 'friend' of the author of Le Serpent Rouge (One of the 'infamous' Priory of Sion documents, as recently 'deposited' as the 1960s, I read), who is an 'artist, that knows that the six colors of the palette mix to form black.' Coincidental, don't you think?

We must look then for the mansion of light — that oily, ethereal substance that retains it — for by this means we may circumscribe and confine it. We may impart and communicate it to what bodies we please, give the basest things a most precious lustre and a complexion as lasting as the sun. This is that mystery which the philosophers have delivered hereunto in most envious and obscure terms; and though I do not arrogate to myself a greater knowledge than some of them had, yet I do affirm— and that knowingly — that this secret was never communicated to the world in a discourse so plain and positive as this is. It is true this script is short, and the body of magic has no proportion to these few lines. To write of it at large and discover its three scenes — elemental, celestial and spiritual — was sometimes the design of one that was able to perform. But he — and it was every the fortune of truth to be so served — was not only opposed but abused by a barbarous, malicious ignorant one. I should think that gentleman did set up for Bartholomew Fair — he has such contrivances in his Second Lash. The tutor dedicates to his pupil, and the same pupil versifies in commendation of his tutor. Here was a claw; there was never any so reciprocal: surely Rosinante and Dapple might learn of these two. But this is stuff to stop our noses at: let us leave it for Cambridge, whence it first came. In my Father's House are many mansions... 'raised above the circle of the earth' seems to indicate a reference to our own point in a circle... also notice the reference to the three scenes that we have seen in our Triptych symbolism... a book,which may also indicate a person, as has been previously suggested... This last bit that includes the reference to the 'claw' may, or may not, be self-explanatory to the discriminating reader; tutors and pupils... whatever...

The coagulation of our water and the solution of our earth are the two greatest and most difficult operations of the Art, for these two are contrary keys: the water opens and the earth shuts. Be sure then to add nothing to the subject but what is of its own nature, for when it is prepared it is all-sufficient. He coagulates himself and dissolves himself, and passes all the color — and this by virtue of its own inward sulphur or fire, which wants nothing but excitation, or, to speak plainly, a simple, natural coction. Everybody knows how to boil water in fire; but if they knew how to boil fire in water their physic would reach beyond the kitchen. Study then and despair not; but study no curiosities. It is a plain, straight path that Nature walks in; and I call God to witness that I write not this to amaze men; but I write that which I know to be certainly true. Two keys... well, what do I need to say about those? The symbolism is abundant, enough... the 'athenor' is closed, if you will... with exposure to slow, steady 'heat,' or perhaps 'pressure' would be allowable, as in 'the heat is on'... lol... also notice the straight and narrow path, and the few there be that find it... this, at least, has not changed, I suppose... and the last mention of 'truth' recommends the piece to me, if the previous glimpses of light could not...





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This rare and goodly sight did not a little encourage me, and great desire I had to hear my mistress speak - for so I judged her now - that if possible I might receive some information. How to bring this about I did not well know, for she seemed averse from discourse. But having resolved with myself to disturb her, I asked her if she would favour me with her name. To this she replied very familiarly, as if she had known me long before.

"Eugenius" - said she - "I have many names, but my best and dearest is Thalia, for I am always green and shall never wither. Thou dost here behold the Mountains of the Moon, and I will shew thee the original of Nilus; for she springs from these invisible rocks. Look up and peruse the very tops of these pillars and cliffs of salt, for they are the true, philosophical, lunar mountains. Did'st thou ever see such a miraculous, incredible thing?

This speech made me quickly look up to those glittering turrets of salt, where I could see a stupendous cataract or waterfall. The stream was more large than any river in her full channel; but notwithstanding the height and violence of its fall it descended without any noise. The waters were dashed and their current distracted by those saltish rocks; but for all this they came down with a dead silence - like the still, soft air. Some of this liquor - for it ran by me - I took up, to see what strange woollen substance it was that did thus steal down like snow. When I had it in my hands it was no common water but a certain kind of oil of a watery complexion. A viscous, fat, mineral nature it was, bright like pearls and transparent like crystal. When I had viewed and searched it well, it appeared somewhat spermatic, and in very truth it was obscene to the sight but much more to the touch. Hereupon Thalia told me it was the First Matter and the very natural, true sperm of the great world. "It is" - said she - "invisible and therefore few are they that find it; but many believe it is not to be found. They believe indeed that the world is a dead figure, like a body which hath been sometime made and fashioned by that spirit which dwelt in it, but retains that very shape and fashion for some short time after the spirit hath forsaken it. They should rather consider that every frame, when the soul hath left it, doth decompose and can no longer retain its former figure; for the agent that held and kept the parts together is gone. Most excellent then is that speech which I heard some time from one of my own pupils. 'This world' - saith he - 'of such divers and contrary parts, would not have reached unity of form had there not been One who did join together such contrary things. But, being brought together, the very diversity of the natures joined, fighting one with another, had discomposed and separated them, unless there had been One to hold and keep those parts together which He at first did join. Verily the order of Nature could not proceed with such certainty, neither could she move so regularly in several places, times, effects and qualities, unless there were Some One Who disposed and ordered these varieties of motions. This, whatsoever it is, by which the world is preserved and governed, I call by that usual name God.'

"Thou must therefore, Eugenius" - said she - "understand that all compositions are made by an Active, Intelligent Life; for what was done in the composure of the great world in general, the same is performed in the generation of every creature, and its sperm in particular. I suppose thou dost know that water cannot be contained but in some vessel. The natural vessel which God hath appointed for it is the earth. In earth water may be thickened and brought to a figure; but of itself, and without earth, it hath an indefinite flux and is subject to no certain figure whatsoever. Air also is a fleeting and indeterminate substance, but water is his vessel; for water being figured by means of earth the air also is thickened and figured in the water. To ascend higher, the air coagulates the liquid fire, and fire incorporated involves and confines the thin light. These are the means by which God unites and compounds the elements into a sperm, for the earth alters the complexion of the water, and makes it viscous and slimy. Such a water must they seek who would produce any magical, extraordinary effects; for this spermatic water coagulates with the least heat, so that Nature concocts and hardens it into metals. Thou seest the whites of eggs will thicken as soon as they feel the fire; for their moisture is tempered with a pure, subtle earth, and this subtle, animated earth is that which binds their water. Take water then, my Eugenius, from the Mountains of the Moon, which is water and no water. Boil it in the fire of Nature to a twofold earth, white and red; then feed those earths with air of fire and fire of air; and thou hast the two magical luminaries. But because thou hast been a servant of mine for a long time, and that thy patience hath manifested the truth of thy love, I will bring thee to my school, and there will I shew thee what the world is not capable of."

This was no sooner spoken but she passed by those diamond-like, rocky salts and brought me to a rock of adamant, figured to a just, entire cube. It was the basis to a fiery pyramid, a trigon of pure pyrope, whose imprisoned flames did stretch and strive for heaven. To the four-square of the frontlet of this rock was annexed a little portal and in that hung a tablet. It was a painted hedgehog, so rolled and wrapt up in his bag he could not easily be discomposed. Over this stood a dog snarling and hard by him this instruction: Softly, or he pricks.

In we went, and having entered the rocks, the interior parts were of a heavenly, smaragdine colour. Somewhere they shined like leaves of pure gold, and then appeared a third inexpressible, purple tincture. We had not gone very far but we came to an ancient, majestic altar. On the offertory, or very top of it, was figured the trunk of an old rotten tree, plucked up by the roots. Out of this crept a snake - of colour white and green - slow of motion like a snail and very weak, having but newly felt the sun that overlooked her. Towards the foot or basis of this altar was an inscription in old Egyptian hieroglyphics which Thalia expounded, and this is it:

TO THE BLESSED GODS IN THE UNDERWORLD
N.L.



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Here is the last bit of 'Light From Light,' with the 'interesting' bits highlighted, again... I really enjoy Vaughan's writing. We can continue with one of his other works, in the full assurance of working with some Light...

"Eugenius, this is the place which many have desired to see, but saw it not. The preparatives to their admission here were wanting. They did not love me but mine. They coveted indeed the riches of Nature, but Nature herself they did both neglect and corrupt. Some advantages they had in point of assault, had they but studied their opportunities. I was exposed to their hands but they knew me not. I was subject in some measure to their violence, but He that made me would not suffer me to be rifled. In a word, the ruin of these man was built on their disposition. In their addresses to me they resembled those pitiful things which some call courtiers. These have their antics and raunts, as if they had been trained amongst apes. They scrape - as one hath well expressed it - proportions mathematical, make strange legs and faces, and in that phrase of the same poet

'Vary their mouths as 'twere by magic spell
To figures oval, square and triangle.'

So these impudent sophisters assaulted me with vainglorious humours. When I looked into their hearts there was no room for me. They were full of proud thoughts and dreamed of a certain riotous happiness which must be maintained by my expenses and treasures. In the interim they did not consider that I was plain and simple, one that did not love noise but a private, sweet content. I have, Eugenius, found thee much of my own humour. I have withal found thy expectations patient. Thou canst easily believe where thou hast reason to thy faith. Thou hast all this while served without wages: now is the time come to reward thee. My love I freely give thee, and with it these tokens - my key and seal. The one shuts, the other opens: be sure to use both with discretion. As for the mysteries of this my school, thou hast the liberty to peruse them all; there is not anything here but I will gladly reveal it to thee. I have one precept that I shall command to thee, and this is it: you must be silent. You shall not in your writings exceed my allowances. Remember that I am your love, and you will not make me a prostitute. But because I wish you serviceable to those of your own disposition, I here give you an emblematical type of my Sanctuary, with a full privilege to publish it. This is all, and I am now going to that invisible region where is the abode of the immortals. Let not that proverb take place with you: Out of sight, out of mind. Remember me and be happy."

These were her instructions, which were no sooner delivered but she brought me to a clear, large light; and here I saw those things which I must not speak of. Having thus discovered all the parts of that glorious labyrinth, she did lead me out again with her clue of sunbeams - her light that went shining before us. When we were past the rocks of Nilus she shewed me a secret staircase, by which we ascended from that deep and flowery vale to the face of this our common earth. Here Thalia stopped in a mute ceremony, for I was to be left all alone. She looked upon me in silent smiles, mixed with a pretty kind of sadness, for we were unwilling to part. But her hour of translation was come, and taking - as I thought - our last leave, she passed before my eyes unto the eternal, into the ether of Nature.



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I'm confident that those of you who care for such things, have been reading along at your leisure, and that you have been inspired, maybe, to further contemplations of your own on these quaint, old subjects... so long buried under the proverbial bushel basket, you might say...

I hope we don't accidentally set fire to the basket... but, c'est la vie, I suppose... they say that Nature is comepletely renewed by fire (and then saved by the rain, if you ask me)... I guess 'they' should know...





...To these I will add Albertus Magnus, whose suffrage in this kind of learning is like the stylanx to gold, for he had thoroughly searched it and knew very well what part of it would abide the test. In plain English saith he:

The Mercury of the wise men is a watery element cold and moist. This
is their Permanent Water, the spirit of the body, the unctuous vapour, the
blessed water, the virtuous water, the water of the wise men, the
philosopher's vinegar, the mineral water, the dew of heavenly grace, the
virgin's milk, the bodily Mercury; and with other numberless names it is
named in the books of the philosophers; which names truly -- though they
are divers notwithstanding -- always signify one and the same thing,
namely, the Mercury of the wise men. Out of this Mercury alone all the
virtue of the Art is extracted and -- according to its nature -- the
Tincture, both red and white...

To this agrees Rachaidibi, the Persian...
To these subscribes the author of that excellent tract entitled The Book of the Three Words.

This (saith he) is the Book of Three Words, meaning thereby Three
Principles; the Book of the Precious Stone, which is a body aerial and
volatile, cold and moist, watery and adustive; and in it is heat and
drought, coldness and moisture, one virtue inwardly, the other
outwardly. (Do you see our Triptych here...? a book of three 'leaves'...)

Belus the philosopher, in that famous and most classic Synod of Arisleus, inverts the order to conceal the practice; but if rightly understood he speaks to the same purpose.

Amongst all great philosophers (saith he) it is magisterial that our
Stone is no stone; but amongst ignorants it is ridiculous and incredible.
For who will believe that water can be made a stone and a stone water,
nothing being more different than these two? And yet in very truth it is
so. For this very Permanent Water is the Stone; but whiles it is water it
is no stone. (Who will believe our report...?)

But in this sense the ancient Hermes abounds and almost discovers too much.

Know (saith he), you that are children of the wise: the separation
of the ancient philosophers was performed upon water, which separation
divides the water into four other substances.

There is extant a very learned author who hath written something to this purpose, and that more openly than any whom we have formerly cited.

As the world (saith he) was generated out of that Water upon which
the Spirit of God did move, all things proceeding thence, both celestial
and terrestrial, so this chaos is generated out of a certain Water that
is not common, not out of dew nor air condensed in the caverns of the
earth, or artificially in the receiver; not out of water drawn out of
the sea, fountains, pits, or rivers; but out of a certain tortured water
that hath suffered some alteration. Obvious it is to all but known to
very few. This water hath all in it that is necessary to the perfection
of the work, without any extrinsical addition.




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