Of Natural and Supernatural Things: Also of the first Tincture, Root, and Spirit of Metals and Minerals, how the same are Conceived, Generated, Brought forth, Changed, and Augmented

In Short

This collection of alchemical treatises argues that all matter—metals, minerals, and the human body—originates from a spiritual essence that can be manipulated by those with the faith and patience to master the "Art." Through a blend of theological instruction and laboratory protocol, the text details the extraction of tinctures from metals like antimony, copper, and lead. It has endured as a primary historical document for its unique synthesis of medieval Christian mysticism and early chemical experimentation, serving as both a guide to laboratory practice and a moral compass for the aspiring alchemist.

The Story

The progression of this work moves from the foundational philosophy of creation toward the practical realization of the "Stone." It begins by establishing a binary universe: the natural, which is tangible and subject to human reason, and the supernatural, which is invisible and accessible only through faith. The author insists that no one can truly understand the natural world without first grasping its origin in the supernatural. By defining all things as products of three principles—a mercurial water, a sulphurous vapor, and a terrene salt—the narrative sets the stage for the manipulation of physical reality.

The argument then shifts from abstract theology to the specific "roots" of metals. Gold is established as the standard of perfection, a "fixed" body that holds its tincture tightly, while other metals—specifically Mars (iron) and Venus (copper)—are volatile. The author explains that these imperfect metals must be "opened" and their spirits extracted to produce a curative medicine or to transmute them into perfection. The narrative frames the chemist not as a mere technician, but as a servant of divine will. There is a constant emphasis on the "first matter," a substance so common and seemingly worthless that it is ignored by the "idiotish crew," yet it holds the key to all power if one knows how to work it through the "fire and water."

As the text unfolds, it moves into technical, albeit cryptic, instructions for the preparation of various tinctures, particularly those of antimony and the "Saturnine" work associated with lead. The process is grueling, involving repeated distillations, digestions, and purifications. The ending is not merely a technical conclusion but a moral warning. The author emphasizes that the "Stone" is a divine gift; it is not to be used for personal enrichment or vanity. The narrative concludes with a stern admonition: if the practitioner’s heart is not aligned with God, or if they pursue the work with selfish intent, the experiment will inevitably fail. The final pages shift into a paternal voice—a mentor speaking to a "child"—stressing that the true purpose of this knowledge is the relief of human suffering and the glorification of the Creator. The work ends on a note of spiritual responsibility, leaving the seeker to reconcile their scientific labor with the weight of their own soul.

How It Unfolds

The duality of existence The text establishes that all substances possess both a visible, natural form and an invisible, supernatural spirit. It illustrates this through biblical miracles, arguing that the divine intervention shown in scripture is the same power that governs the hidden growth of minerals.

The principles of metallic generation The author outlines how all metals arise from the interplay of mercury, sulphur, and salt. He explains why some metals are "fixed" like gold and others "volatile," providing a conceptual framework for why transmutation is theoretically possible.

The mystery of the spirit Focusing on specific metals like copper, the text describes the "spirit" as a fiery, penetrating essence. The author insists that this spirit is a stranger in its own body and can only be truly harnessed when the "habitation" of the metal is broken down.

The crucible of the laboratory The instructions become increasingly granular, detailing the use of vinegar, fire, and glass vessels. These sections act as a bridge, showing how the philosopher must labor in the "cell" to coax the hidden virtues out of the raw material.

The moral and spiritual climax The final chapters emphasize that the work is a test of character. By framing the laboratory process as a "Testament," the author warns that failure is a spiritual consequence of pride, greed, or unrepentant sin.

The People

Basilius Valentinus stands as the primary guide, embodying the archetype of the learned monk. He views himself as a conduit for divine truth, constantly reminding his reader that his work is not for the "peasants" or the arrogant, but for the humble seeker of truth. He is motivated by charity and the desire to expose the "erroneous ways" of his detractors.

Roger Bacon and John Isaac Holland are also featured, providing additional expertise on the specific applications of antimony and lead. Bacon is presented as a master of the "Medicine," focused on the therapeutic potential of the work to cure both the "leprosy of metals" and the physical illnesses of man. Holland serves as the mentor figure, addressing his reader as "my Child" and providing the most direct warnings about the dangers of the work.

These figures are not characters in a drama, but voices in a tradition. They are united by their belief that they possess a secret knowledge that the rest of the world is too blind to see. Their evolution is internal; they move from being students of nature to becoming guardians of a "Divine Work." They do not change their minds; rather, they solidify their conviction that the material world is a mirror of the divine, and that the only failure in their art is a failure of faith.

In Its Own Voice

"This Spirit is found in all Metals, more abundant in other Metals than in Gold, because Gold, by reason of its well digested, ripened, and fixt body, is tight, close, and compact."

This observation explains why gold is the ultimate, stable goal of the alchemical process, contrasting it with the restless spirits of lesser metals.

"I tell you truly, you may see the Work, or begin it, but I am certain you shall never accomplish it, nor see the Stone, God will order it so, it will break, fall, or some one Disaster or other will happen, that you shall never see the Stone, or accomplish it."

This warning captures the author's insistence that moral and spiritual purity are absolute requirements for success in the Art.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the book is that the physical and spiritual worlds are not separate, but are expressions of a single, divine reality. The author contends that the study of "natural things"—the distillation of minerals, the behavior of acids, the properties of metals—is a form of prayer. By peeling back the layers of matter, the chemist seeks to find the "first matter," the raw stuff of creation. This is fundamentally a quest for order, health, and perfection. The book asks: if we can understand the hidden spirit within the stone, can we not also purge the "evil humours" from the human body and the world at large? It is an argument for the dignity of labor, asserting that nature is a book written by God, waiting to be read.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of science or the evolution of early modern thought will find this book deeply compelling. It feels like stepping into a medieval laboratory where the distinction between a chemist and a mystic has not yet been drawn. The prose is archaic, dense, and occasionally frustrating, filled with seventeenth-century idioms and specialized jargon that requires patience to decipher. However, there is a rhythmic, almost liturgical quality to the writing that rewards a slow, deliberate pace.

What stays with the reader is the author’s absolute, unshakeable certainty. In an age of secular science, there is something jarring and strangely beautiful about the idea that an experiment might fail because the scientist is not "pure of heart." The book is not for those looking for a modern chemistry textbook, nor for those who want a light, modern narrative. It is for the reader who wants to understand the intellectual climate of an era that saw the world as a vibrant, living, and sacred entity. You will walk away with a sense of the sheer, exhausting effort required of the early "philosophers," and perhaps a newfound appreciation for how we once sought to find the divine hidden in the very dirt beneath our feet.