“Who but a Rosicrucian could explain the Rosicrucian mysteries!”
-from Zanoni (1842) by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Edward Bulwer-Lytton has oft been described as a crypto-Rosicrucian writer, and in his master work, Zanoni, he sketched a very distinct picture of the ideal magus. Zanoni–the novel’s eponymous mage–is a self-sacrificial, self-effacing Stoic with a knack for Batman-style theatrics and vigilantism. Much like Daniel Defoe’s sorcerer, he acts–to paraphrase Shakespeare–as a “minister of fate,” a dark operative who subtly governs “the greater things of life”, blasting or succeeding “the enterprises of princes and people”.
Yet in the book, Bulwer-Lytton spends little time explaining how Zanoni acquired his semi-divine powers. He does, however, give the reader several occult hints. At one point, Zanoni states that trance is a gateway to spiritual initiation. “In dreams,” he declares, “commences all human knowledge: in dreams hovers over measureless space the first faint bridge between spirit and spirit,—this world and the worlds beyond!” Zanoni also regularly communicates with an angelic intelligence called Adonai. There is even a point where Glyndon, the novel’s dissolute protagonist, breaths in a glimmering vapour during an illicit self-initiation experiment. The drug–or rather, its wrongful use–causes Glyndon to see and hear the fearful “Dweller on the Threshold”, a malevolent, ever-present phantom.
Although Zanoni contains only flashes of information about certain esoteric methods of communication and transformation, the actual Rosicrucians and their admirers, employed a tried and tested hodgepodge of mind-altering techniques, which they derived from Paracelsus, Heinrich Khunrath, and sundry other figures on the medieval and early modern witchcraft and alchemical scene.
According to Dr Hereward Tilton, a religious historian who has taught on early modern magic, alchemy, and Rosicrucianism at the University of Amsterdam (History of Hermetic Philosophy and Related Currents) and the University of Exeter (Exeter Centre for the Study of Esotericism), these very real practices, which could include imbibing entheogenic drugs and inducing trances by mirror-gazing, were designed to help the magician either contact or become a supramundane angel.
We caught up with Tilton to learn more about the Rosicrucians and their varied arts of bodily and spiritual transformation.
The Custodian: Could you elaborate on the similarities and differences between the concepts of transfiguration, gnosis and spiritual alchemy in Rosicrucian theory and practice?
Dr Hereward Tilton: Transfiguration, gnosis, and spiritual alchemy are interrelated but distinct concepts. In the alchemical and Christian Cabalistic context of early modern Rosicrucianism, “transfiguration” refers to the spiritualisation of matter, in particular the material human body. First and foremost, this notion hearkens back to the transfiguration of Christ, which was thought to involve the transformation of his corruptible earthly body into an immortal spiritualised form; orthodox Christian dogma envisages all humans taking on similar “resurrection bodies” with which we will spend eternity in either heaven or hell.
With regard to alchemy, the death and resurrection of Christ served as a model for the alchemical process, and the red Philosophers’ Stone was equated with the transfigured flesh and blood of Christ, i.e. a paradoxical “spiritual body”. This spiritualisation of matter is mirrored in the action of the Philosophers’ Stone upon base metals as an agent of transmutation, and likewise in its effect upon the human body as a panacea and elixir of life.
On the other hand, from the Kabbalistic and Christian Cabalistic perspective the notion of transfiguration is exemplified by the story of Enoch, the Biblical patriarch who was “taken by God” without dying in the book of Genesis. The late antique Books of Enoch describe this puzzling passage in terms of Enoch’s angelification. Among the proto-Kabbalistic Hekhalot texts, the fifth-century Sefer Hekhalot or “Book of the Heavenly Palaces” (the Third Book of Enoch) details Enoch’s heavenly ascent and transfiguration as the angel Metatron, the “little Yahweh” or “prince of the divine countenance”.
Drawing more or less directly from the Sefer Hekhalot and the ecstatic Kabbalist Abulafia, the great Christian Cabalist of the Italian Renaissance, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, interpreted this angelification Neoplatonically as a union with the divine mind, and adduced Enoch’s transfiguration as proof of our Protean ability to transform ourselves and scale the chain of being in progressively more spiritualised forms.
A fusion of these alchemical and Kabbalistic notions of transfiguration is evident to varying degrees in the works of Francesco Zorzi, Heinrich Agrippa, Heinrich Khunrath, and in particular John Dee. In his Monas hieroglyphica, Dee draws upon Pico’s terminology to describe a transfiguring supercelestial virtue from beyond the “horizon of time” (i.e. beyond the celestial and terrestrial realms governed by fate). By means of this virtue, the Christian Cabalist ascends through the heavenly spheres towards his or her angelification, which Dee depicts in the explicitly alchemical terms of putrefaction, separation, coniunctio oppositorum, etc. Once the supercelestial magician has achieved this Enochian transfiguration, Dee asserts, “he will thenceforth very rarely be seen by mortal eyes.”
This consequence of angelification underlies the legendary invisibility of the Rosicrucians, a loose underground network of alchemists and anti-institutional inspirationists dedicated to the Paracelsian Theophrastia sancta and the “magical Reformation” of Agrippa. Despite the fame of his Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreuz and his youthful contribution to the early seventeenth-century Rosicrucian manifestos, the Lutheran pastor Johann Valentin Andreae was opposed to the dominant theological orientation of this network, its forebears, and its successors. Among other things, Rosicrucianism is a Western gnostic tradition with its roots in ancient Christian heresy.
The “gnosis” pursued by Rosicrucians through the centuries is a liberating knowledge of our innermost being–a divine inner light identical with the primordial mind or universal ground of being. This pursuit can be traced back via the Kabbalah and the Hekhalot texts to ancient Gnosticism proper, in particular to certain heretical “serpent cults” dedicated to quasi-tantric ecstatic techniques.
As for “spiritual alchemy”, this phrase was popularised in the nineteenth century by the Rosicrucian Arthur Edward Waite and the founder of the Theosophical Society, Helena Petrovna Blavatsky. Drawing on Dee’s alchemico-Cabalistic terminology, Waite understands “spiritual alchemy” in terms of the transfiguring angelification or “deification” of the Christian Cabalists. This usage is consonant with the first mention of “spiritual alchemy” I am aware of, which was made in 1633 by the Rosicrucian apologist Robert Fludd. He speaks of the sinful human who is “elevated into the sphere of light” and “exalted into the Son of God” by a transfiguring alchymia spiritualis.
On the other hand, Blavatsky’s conception of “spiritual alchemy” deviates from this tradition in important ways. She suggests that alchemy was primarily a mystical rather than a laboratory pursuit, and that the alchemists concealed their art of inner transmutation with pseudo-chemical language due to the threat posed by the Inquisition. Despite its popularity, this is not a tenable position.
C: What role did entheogenic or psychoactive substances play in the quest for transfiguration? Which medieval and early modern alchemists and magicians explicitly described, alluded to, or experimented with these “elixirs”?
HT: There are a handful of allusions to psychoactive forms of the Philosophers’ Stone, most notably the Angelical Stone associated with John Dee, which was said to grant “the apparition of most blessed and glorious angels” via its “heavenly and fragrant smells”. Dee’s acquaintance Heinrich Khunrath appears to have used a similar alchemical entheogen to assist his heavenly ascent. This “fiery scintilla of the World Soul” was distilled from sulphuric acid and used as a medium for Khunrath’s red and white Philosophers’ Stones (i.e. gold and silver colloids); he describes it as a highly volatile and aromatic substance which produces a state of euphoria.
These properties suggest he was synthesising diethyl ether, a euphoriant and hallucinogenic anaesthetic discovered by Paracelsus in the 1520s. Indeed, Khunrath may have been the first alchemist to equate this compound with âither, the heavenly quintessence or fifth element of classical antiquity. In any case, diethyl ether continued to be identified with the alchemical elixir well into the nineteenth century.
There is also evidence for the Christian Cabalistic use of plant-based entheogens associated with the witches’ “flying ointment”–a herbal salve allegedly smeared by witches onto pitchfork and broomstick handles, and thence applied to the genitalia with the intent of flying to the diabolical Sabbath. The seventeenth-century Flemish alchemist Johan Baptista van Helmont recounts a perilous experiment with wolfsbane, a highly toxic nightshade named by several Renaissance authorities as the flying ointment’s principal ingredient. The ensuing altered states of consciousness and accompanying somatovisceral sensations are interpreted by van Helmont in the Cabalistic terms of an awakening of his own immortal soul, the divine mind (mens) lying beyond the influence of the planets and stars.
Wolfsbane and other psychoactive nightshades such as mandrake and henbane feature prominently in medieval and early modern magical fumigations, which usually involved burning herbs, incense, and various other plant, mineral, animal, and human ingredients in a censer. The purpose of such fumigations was to summon angels, demons, and the spirits of the dead (necromancy). While they were usually directed towards fairly base practical aims, occasionally we find these techniques used in the service of “white magic”.
For instance, Agrippa cites a passage from Ficino’s De vita on attracting the spirits of the stars with fumigations, then proceeds to list psychoactive fumigations from the medieval Sefer Raziel (“Book of the Angel Raziel”) containing “spirit herbs” such as henbane and hemlock. These practices serve the greater gnostic purpose of Agrippa’s magic: to ascend towards self-deification via a “ladder” comprising the planetary and stellar powers and their angelic overlords. This ladder also exists within the microcosm of the human body, whose structure corresponds to the eternal body of God (the ten Kabbalistic Sefirot).
Another notable instance of psychoactive fumigations in the service of white magic comes from a sixteenth-century English manuscript version of the pseudo-Solomonic Liber iuratus Honorii (“Sworn Book of Honorius”). With its directions for attaining visions of God, this medieval text is indebted to the magical techniques of the “practical Kabbalah”; in addition to the original prayers, seals, and names of God, the sixteenth-century version recommends the use of psychoactive fumigations associated with the Sefer Raziel.
Among the usual fumigants–nightshades, opium poppies–the text also mentions the root of the common reed. This is a native European source of dimethyltryptamine (DMT)–one of the principal psychoactive constituents of ayahuasca, the fabled healing potion of Amazonia.
C: When did these drugs start appearing in magical treasure-hunting books, such as Touch Me Not? How exactly were they used-or misused-in the hunters’ rituals?
HT: With regard to the base practical aims I mentioned, magical treasure-hunting reached epidemic proportions in the German-speaking lands of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries via the Höllenzwang (Coercion of Hell) grimoires. An early modern offshoot of the pseudo-Solomonic demon-binding tradition, this literature is principally associated with the sixteenth-century alchemist and magician Johann Georg Faust. Apart from the famed Faustian pact with the devil, the “coercion of hell” manuals offer instructions for the binding of demons believed to guard subterranean treasures.
As far as fumigations are concerned, the Sefer Raziel describes the burning of henbane, poppies, and hemlock for the purpose of hiding treasures; nevertheless, while the Clavicula salomonis (Key of Solomon) and its Byzantine precursors include spells for wresting treasures from evil spirits, the use of psychoactive fumigations for this purpose comes into its own via the Höllenzwang literature. In fact this practice led to a very famous tragedy near the German town of Jena in 1715.
Three would-be treasure hunters met in a remote mountain hut on Christmas Eve; they brought various talismans with them, as well as Faust’s Höllenzwang, the Clavicula salomonis, a coal-filled iron flowerpot as a makeshift censer, and a herb known as the Springwürzel. This legendary plant allegedly had the power to break open the locks of treasure chests, and was commonly identified with mandrake.
As it was necessary to invoke the planetary angel ruling the treasure-guarding demon, the treasure-hunters carved a protective circle into the hut’s ceiling and began to summon Och, a Paracelsian angel of the sun. While reciting the long lists of divine names and verba ignota (unknown words) from their manuscripts, they sprinkled the Springwürzel onto the hot coals. Unfortunately it was bitterly cold up in the hills, so they also kept the hut door and windows shut. The consequences were dire. Late on the following day, two of the treasure-hunters were found dead; the third was barely alive, and was babbling incoherently.
Two guards were posted to watch over the corpses, and they decided to reignite the coals to keep warm. One of them died–the last that was heard from his shaking body was a prayer, eerily muttered as if by one sleeping. The survivor testified that he’d seen a demonic child beating on the hut door. It was a celebrated case in Germany, with theologians debating Enlightened physicians–was the Devil to blame, or was it simply a case of nightshade poisoning?
C: Was the Rosicrucian Urim and the Thummim a physical contraption or more of a symbolic idea?
HT: The Rosicrucian Urim and Thummim was very much a physical contraption. It comprised a number of reflective gemstone-like Philosophers’ Stones inlaid upon a stand composed of an alloy of the seven planetary metals (so-called electrum magicum). During the eighteenth century, it was used by the seven Magi at the peak of the Order of the Gold and Rosy Cross for various scrying purposes–to witness the secrets of Creation, to communicate with God and his angels, and to inspect the hearts of prospective initiates.
The seven Magi themselves were named after the seven planets and their angelic overlords, as the order’s initiatory grades reflected steps in the Christian Cabalistic ascent towards Christ-Metatron. The Urim and Thummim was among the most sacred artefacts of the order, and is described in one manuscript as “Jehova Jesus himself”.
The artefact in possession of the Gold and Rosy Cross was derived from the alchemico-Cabalistic practices of Heinrich Khunrath, who is pictured consulting a similar Urim and Thummim in an early seventeenth-century manuscript from the British Library. In this case the artefact is comprised of three polished mirror-like Philosophers’ Stones set in electrum magicum stands; the emblems of an opened copy of Khunrath’s Amphitheatrum sapientiae aeternae are reflected in the central stone. The purpose of this practice was to make contact with “a great benevolent spirit from the Empyrean”–that is to say, an angel from the highest supercelestial sphere beyond the fixed stars, which would act as the intermediary to an eventual union with God in this life.
The original Biblical Urim and Thummim were enigmatic objects–possibly gemstones–situated upon or within the ritual breastplate of the high priests of pre-exilic Israel, who used them for divinatory purposes such as determining an accused person’s guilt or innocence. Nevertheless, the true ancient precursor of the Rosicrucian Urim and Thummim is to be found in the writings of the fourth-century Gnostic alchemist Zosimos of Panopolis.
In his tract “On Electrum”, Zosimos describes the attainment of gnosis via meditation upon one’s self-reflection in an electrum mirror, which is the very mind of God situated above the seven planetary spheres. The mirror mentioned by Zosimos belongs to a group of electrum magical artefacts–rings, vessels, bells– which we find associated with King Solomon in the medieval pseudo-Solomonic literature, and which reappear in the practices of Khunrath and later Rosicrucian groups via the pseudo-Paracelsian Archidoxis magica.
While I am not aware of any surviving examples of the alchemico-Cabalistic Urim and Thummim, an electrum angel-summoning bell owned by Khunrath’s patron Emperor Rudolph II is still in existence today.
C: Can you speak to us about the content and overall aims of your book, The Path of the Serpent?
HT: The Path of the Serpent is a two-volume analysis of the ambiguous serpentine symbolism lying at the heart of the Western gnostic traditions I’ve mentioned here. As in the Indo-Tibetan tantric traditions, this symbolism is associated with the path of gnostic ascent and its microcosmic counterpart along the initiate’s neuraxis. It is also intimately related to the goal of that ascent, and to the ambiguous figure lying at the stellar boundary between the supercelestial realms and the corrupted celestial and terrestrial spheres.
Alternately a soul-enslaving world ruler and a liberating intermediary to the divine, this figure appears as a unitary serpentine power with benevolent and malevolent aspects, or as a syzygy of supernal and infernal serpentine powers locked in combat. Its foremost manifestations are the Gnostic Demiurge, the angel Metatron, the teli serpent of the Kabbalists, and Christ in the guise of the white serpent.
On a historical level, this symbolism can be traced back via the Kabbalah to the doctrines and quasi-tantric ecstatic techniques of Gnostic “serpent cults” such as the Mesopotamian Peratae. Beyond the ancient Gnostic milieu, the historical record leads us back further to the Chaoskampf mythology of the ancient Near East, in which the serpent of the primeval chaos comprises the cosmic axis linking the heavens with the underworld. In the second volume of my book I explore this genealogy in some detail, and describe its culmination in the imagery of Carl Gustav Jung’s Red Book, one of the most beautiful twentieth-century expressions of gnostic tradition. Nevertheless, an adequate historical account of the symbolism in question also requires an understanding of its psychological origins. These lie in the hypo-egoic states of consciousness engendered by ecstatic techniques.
As serotonergic psychedelics (LSD, psilocybin, DMT, etc.) provide direct experimental access to hypo-egoic states–i.e. to the experience of an attenuation or abolition of ego functions–the first volume of The Path of the Serpent develops neuropsychological insights from my own experimentation with these enigmatic compounds. Focusing on a paradigmatic vision invoked by DMT, I interpret the emergence of ambiguous serpentine symbolism–possessing both destructive and creative aspects–in terms of the drug-induced disintegration of neural network hierarchies and an accompanying disinhibition of ascending signals from the visual cortex, the limbic system, and the autonomic nervous system. Disinhibition of this nature underlies the visions, powerful emotions, and anomalous somatovisceral sensations typical not only of entheogen use but also of other ecstatic techniques.
Examining historical vision accounts from the gnostic lineages, I show how these neurobiological alterations are interpreted by practitioners in terms of melothesia–the relationship of particular parts of the body with the celestial spheres and their associated angels/gods. As higher neural networks relinquish control over lower, visionary symbolism arises as an interoceptive phenomenon–that is to say, as the perception and interpretation of internal bodily states that are normally subliminal under the neural regimes of everyday life.
The same is true of the lucid, hypo-egoic state of consciousness itself, which corresponds to the mirror of the divine mind lying at the stellar threshold to the supercelestial spheres. Resembling the “observing self” of traumatic dissociation, this interoceptive meta-awareness of egoic selfhood is characterised by insight into previously unconscious complexes and somatically encoded traumata.
Hence–contrary to their portrayal by academics as errors of the naïve pre-Enlightened mind– the doctrines and practices conveyed by the gnostic lineages can be regarded as profound psychotherapeutic systems. I should also emphasise that The Path of the Serpent does not aim to reduce its subject to a matter of psychology or neurobiology.
The enigmatic serpentine symbolism I have studied gives expression to near-critical, “edge-of-chaos” dynamics which regulate the human nervous system, and which can also be observed in society, the biosphere, and the wider natural cosmos. Within these complex systems, a recurring descent into chaos engenders the “antichaos” of emergence, i.e. the appearance of qualitatively new properties, structures, and behaviours. This sporadic, archetypal return to a crucible of transmutation underlies the continuity between the ancient cosmogonic narratives of the Chaoskampf and the serpentine symbolism of the gnostic lineages.
The first volume of The Path of the Serpent (entitled Psychedelics and the Neuropsychology of Gnosis) can now be ordered at https://rubedo.press/the-path-of-the-serpent.
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Fascinating. I think I agree with a lot of it.