It is not easy now--it could not have been easy at any time--to give
clear and exact meanings to the doctrines of the alchemists, or the
directions they gave for performing the operations necessary for the
production of the object of their search. And the difficulty is much
increased when we are told that "The Sage jealously conceals [his
knowledge] from the sinner and the scornful, lest the mysteries of
heaven should be laid bare to the vulgar gaze." We almost despair when
an alchemical writer assures us that the Sages "Set pen to paper for
the express purpose of concealing their meaning. The sense of a whole
passage is often hopelessly obscured by the addition or omission of
one little word, for instance the addition of the word _not_ in the
wrong place." Another writer says: "The Sages are in the habit of
using words which may convey either a true or a false impression; the
former to their own disciples and children, the latter to the
ignorant, the foolish, and the unworthy." Sometimes, after
descriptions of processes couched in strange and mystical language,
the writer will add, "If you cannot perceive what you ought to
understand herein, you should not devote yourself to the study of
philosophy." Philalethes, in his _Brief Guide to the Celestial Ruby_,
seems to feel some pity for his readers; after describing what he
calls "the generic homogeneous water of gold," he says: "If you wish
for a more particular description of our water, I am impelled by
motives of charity to tell you that it is living, flexible, clear,
nitid, white as snow, hot, humid, airy, vaporous, and digestive."

Alchemy began by asserting that nature must be simple; it assumed that
a knowledge of the plan and method of natural occurrences is to be
obtained by thinking; and it used analogy as the guide in applying
this knowledge of nature's design to particular events, especially the
analogy, assumed by alchemy to exist, between material phenomena and