Superphysics
The Nature of Mercury
February 24, 2024 7 minutes • 1404 words
The Philosophers said that Nature is to be mixed with Natures. They command nothing to bee done without Nature. But you dost mix me with almost all the sordidst things that bee, as dung.
I doe nothing besides Nature; but I sow seed into its own earth, as the Philosophers have said.
You sowest me in dung, and in time of harvest I do vanish away, and you art wont to reap dung.
Yet so the Philosophers have wrote, that in the dunghill their matter is to be sought for.
It is true what they have written; but you understandest their letter, and not their sense, and meaning.
Now happily I see that you art Mercury; but you wilt not obey me.
He began to conjure him again, saying, Vx Vx. But Mercury laughing answered, you shalt doe no good, my friend.
They do not speak without ground, when they say you art of a strange nature, inconstant, and volatile.
Do you say, that I am inconstant, I resolve you thus, I am constant unto a constant Artificer; fixed to him, that is of a fixed mind, but thou, and such as you art, are inconstant, running from one thing unto another, from one matter unto another.
Tell me therefore if you art that Mercury, which the Philosophers wrote of, which they said was, together with sulphur, and salt the principall of all things, or must I seek after another?
Truly the fruit does not fall far from the tree. But I seek not mine own praise, I am the same as I was, but my years are differing. From the beginning I was young, so long as I was alone, but now I am older, yet the same as I was before.
Now you pleasest me, because now you art older: for I always sought after such a one, that was more ripe, and fixed, that I might so much the more easily[Pg 68] accord with him.
You do in vain look after me in my old age, who didst not know me in my youth.
Did not I know you, who have worked with you divers wayes, as you thy self hast said? and yet I will not leave off till I have made the Philosophers Stone.
O what a miserable case am I in? What shall I do? I must now be mixed again with dung, and be tormented. O wretch that I am! I beseech you good Master Philosopher, do not mix me so much with hogs dung; for otherwise I shall be undone, for by reason of this stink I am constrained to change my shape. And what wilt you have me doe more?
Am not I tormented sufficiently by you? Doe not I obey you? Doe not I mixe my self with those things you wilt have me? Am I not sublimed? Am I not precipitated? Am I not made turbith? An Amalgama? A Past? What can you desire more of me?
My body is so scourged, so spit upon, that the very stone would pity me: By virtue of me you hast milk, flesh, bloud, butter, oyl, water, and which of all the metals, or mineral can do that which I do alone? and is there no mercy to be had towards me? O what a wretch am I!
O ho, it doth not hurt you, you art wicked, although you turnest thy self inside out, yet you dost not change thy self, you dost but frame to thy self a new shape, you dost always return into thy first forme again.
I doe as you wilt have me, if you wilt have me be a body, I am a body: if you will have me be dust, I am dust, I know not how I should abase my self more, then when I am dust, and a shadow.
Tell me therefore what you art in thy Center, and I will torment you no more.
I am constrained to tell from the very foundation. If you wilt you maist understand me: you seest my shape, and of this you needest not know further.
But because you askest me of the Center, my Center is the most fixed heart of all things, immortal, and penetrating: in that my Master rests, but I my self am the way, and the passenger, I am a stranger, and yet live at home, I am most faithfull to all my companions, I leave not those that doe accompany me; I abide with them, I perish with them. I am an immortall body: I die when I am slaine, but I rise againe to judgement before a wise Judge.
Are you therefore the Philosophers Stone?
My mother is such a one, of her is born artificialy one certain thing, but my brother who dwells in the fort, hath in his will what the Philosophers desire.
Are you old?
My mother begat me, but I am older then my mother.
What devill can understand you, when you dost not answer to the purpose? you always speakest Riddles. Tell me if you art that fountain of which Bernard Lord Trevisan writ?
I am not the fountaine, but I am the water, the fountaine compasseth me about.
Is gold dissolved in you, when you art water?
Whatsoever is with me I love as a friend; and whatsoever is brought forth with me, to that I give nourishment, and whatsoever is naked, I cover with my wings.
I see it is useless to speak to you.I ask one thing, and you answer another thing. If you will not answer to my question, truly I will goe to work with you again.
O master, I beseech you be good to me, now I will willingly doe what I know.
Tell me therefore if you art afraid of the fire.
I am fire my self.
Why then dost you fly from the fire?
My spirit, and the spirit of the fire love one another, and whither one goes, the other goes if it can.
Where do you go, when you ascend with the fire?
Know that every stranger bends towards his own countrey, and when he is returned from whence he came, he is at rest, and always returnes wiser, then he was when he came forth.
Do you come back again sometimes?
I do, but in another form.
I do not understand what this is, nor any thing of the fire.
If any one knew the fire of my heart, he hath seen that fire (a due heat) is my meat: and by how much the longer the spirit of my heart feeds upon fire, it will be so much the fatter, whose death is afterward the life of all things, whatsoever they bee in this Kingdome where I am.
Are you great?
I am thus for example, of a thousand drops I shall be one, out of one I give many thousand drops: and as my body is in thy sight, if you knowest how to sport with me, you maist divide me into as much as you wilt, and I shall be one again: What then is my spirit (my heart) intrinsicy, which always can bring forth many thousands out of the least part?
How therefore must one deale with you that you maist be so?
I am fire within, fire is my meat, but the life of the fire is aire, without air the fire is extinguished; the fire prevails over the aire, wherefore I am not at rest, neither can the crude air constringe, or bind me: adde air to aire, that both may be one, and hold weight, join it to warme fire, and give it time.
The superfluous then shall be taken away, the residue you shalt burn with fire, put it into water, boyl it, after it is boyled you shalt give it to the sick by way of physick.
I see that you wilt only delude me with Riddles. Wife, bring hither the hogs dung, I will handle that Mercury some new wayes, until he tell me how the Philosophers Stone is to bee made of him.
