The Mysteryes of Nature and Art: Conteined in foure severall Tretises, The first of water workes, The second of Fyer workes, The third of Drawing, Colouring, Painting, and Engraving, The fourth of divers Experiments, as wel serviceable as delightful: partly Collected, and partly of the Authors Peculiar Practice, and Invention

In Short

This book is a wide-ranging, practical guide to the "mysteries" of the natural and mechanical world as understood in 1634. Organized into four treatises—waterworks, fireworks, artistic techniques, and a miscellaneous collection of scientific and domestic experiments—it serves as both a technical handbook and a window into a pre-industrial mindset. It has endured as a primary source for historians interested in the intersection of seventeenth-century domestic life, early engineering, and the evolving spirit of experimental inquiry that characterized the era.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book mirrors the author’s own path of discovery: he begins with the mastery of water, moves to the volatile manipulation of fire, transitions to the delicate arts of illustration, and concludes with a grab-bag of "extravagant" experiments covering everything from household repairs to medical remedies.

The first movement focuses on fluid dynamics, providing detailed schematics for engines capable of forcing water up hills or extinguishing fires. The author demystifies pumps, succurs, and clacks, ensuring that even a reader of "meanest capacity" can construct functional waterworks for service or pleasure. From these utilitarian foundations, the text shifts to the skies. The section on fireworks is elaborate, detailing the precise chemistry required to create "golden rain," "flying dragons," and "fire wheels." The author is meticulous about the composition of gunpowder, treating the saltpeter as the "soul," the sulfur as the "life," and the charcoal as the "body" of the explosive.

Once the reader has mastered the elements of air, water, and fire, the work shifts toward the tangible arts of representation. The third treatise functions as a workshop manual for drawing, painting, and engraving. Here, the focus turns to the hand and the eye, detailing how to prepare pigments, temper colors with gum or oil, and transfer images using pounced patterns or oil-transfers. The narrative concludes with the "Extravagants"—a collection of disparate experiments that range from the whimsical to the essential. These include methods for catching fish with medicated paste, invisible writing, and a host of folk remedies intended to soothe the gout, heal wounds, or treat the toothache. The book does not end with a grand conclusion, but rather with a series of solutions, as if the author is handing the reader a toolkit for navigating the various mechanical and physical challenges of seventeenth-century life.

How It Unfolds

The mechanics of fluid The opening section establishes the foundational terminology of hydraulics, defining the essential components—the succur, forcer, and clack—that allow water to be moved against gravity. The author provides clear, step-by-step instructions for building pumps and engines, emphasizing the importance of properly cured leather to maintain a seal.

The alchemy of combustion The second treatise turns to the explosive arts, offering an exhaustive breakdown of the ingredients needed for pyrotechnics. By defining the "life" and "body" of gunpowder, the text moves from theoretical chemistry to the practical construction of rockets, fire-lances, and elaborate aerial devices.

The techniques of the studio The third movement acts as a guide to the painter’s craft, detailing the preparation of specific colors and the mechanical processes of engraving and etching. The author stresses the interdependence of skills, noting that a fine painter must first be a capable draftsman.

The miscellaneous curiosities The final section, titled "Extravagants," compiles a variety of experiments that defy neat categorization. From the construction of a weather-glass to domestic recipes for medicinal balms and inks, this part of the work serves as a practical appendix for the curious practitioner.

The People

The book is primarily a dialogue between the author, who identifies himself simply as I.B., and the "Courteous Reader." I.B. comes across as a pragmatic, self-taught tinkerer who views his work not as high philosophy, but as a public service. He is deeply modest, apologizing for his lack of "elegancy of phrase" and insisting that his motivation is purely the "generall good." He acts as a mentor, guiding the reader through technical hurdles with the patience of someone who has failed at these experiments many times himself.

Standing in the way of the reader is the lack of standardized materials—a challenge I.B. mitigates by providing precise sourcing advice, such as where to find the best charcoal or how to properly tan leather for a pump. He treats the reader as a fellow participant in a shared journey of experimentation. By the end, the reader is no longer a passive observer of nature but an active agent—someone who can command water to rise, fire to dance, and pigments to hold. The author remains the constant, steady hand throughout, though he gradually recedes as the reader gains the confidence to apply these "mysteries" to their own peculiar practice.

In Its Own Voice

"It was not in my minde to have as yet exposed it to the publique view: but being sollicited by the intreaties of some, and those not a few, to impart to each particular person what his Genius most affected; I was enforced as well for the satisfying of their requests, as for the avoydance of many inconveniences, to dispose in some order such Experiments as for the present I was content to impart."

This passage from the introduction highlights the author’s reluctant transition from a private experimenter to a public instructor.

"A Weather-glasse is a structure of, at the least, two glasses, sometimes of three, foure, or more, as occasion serveth, inclosing a quantity of water, and a portion of ayre proportionable, by whose condensation or rarifaction the included water is subject unto a continuall motion, either upward or downward."

Here, the author explains the scientific principle behind his weather-glass, blending observation with the practical mechanics of the era.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an argument for the democratization of technical knowledge. The author believes that "mysteries"—often reserved for guilds or those with secret training—should be accessible to anyone with the industry and patience to practice them. The book explores the tension between the chaotic forces of nature and the human desire to master them through artifice and "engines." It poses a fundamental question: how can the natural world be observed, measured, and bent to serve human needs? By blending the medicinal with the mechanical, the book suggests that the same curiosity required to build a water-pump is necessary to understand the properties of a healing herb.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the aesthetic of the pre-industrial workshop will find this book deeply rewarding. It provides an unvarnished look at a time when science, magic, and craftsmanship were not yet distinct disciplines. The language is archaic but accessible, and the sheer variety of projects—from making invisible ink to constructing a "flying dragon"—offers a tangible connection to the ingenuity of the seventeenth century.

However, modern readers must be prepared for the book's limitations. It is not a modern "how-to" manual; some ingredients mentioned are obsolete, and the medical advice, while fascinating from a historical perspective, should never be taken as health guidance. The text reflects the period's attitudes, often mixing sound engineering principles with folkloric remedies or superstitious claims. Those who appreciate a challenge will find the lack of modern safety standards and the reliance on raw, unpredictable materials to be part of the work’s authentic charm. Reading this is like standing in a dusty, seventeenth-century study where the scent of gunpowder, linseed oil, and vinegars lingers in the air. It is a testament to the human urge to tinker, build, and document, leaving a lasting impression of the ingenuity required to navigate a world long before the advent of modern technology.