The Chemical Wedding, by Christian Rosencreutz, Page 2

  * I recently discovered that Everett Bleiler in an essay in Science Fiction Studies (2008) argues that The Chemical Wedding is a science fiction novel (though not that it’s the first) on grounds like mine.

  A ROMANCE

  IN EIGHT DAYS

  Arcana publicata vilescunt, et gratiam prophanata amittunt. Ergo: ne Margaritas objice porcis, seu Asino substernere rosas.

  Deep mysteries made public are cheapened, and popularized things lose their value. So don’t throw pearls before swine, or make a bed of roses for a donkey.

  The First Book*

  * There are actually no other “books” in the book, though this part title suggests there should be. This is perhaps a setup for the unfinished ending, intended to suggest that further books by Christian would have told more of his story. It emphasizes the weirdly metafictional (not a term the 17th century could have used) character of CW.

  The First Day

  It was just before Easter Sunday,1 and I was sitting at my table. I’d said my prayers, talking a long time as usual with my Maker and thinking about some of the great mysteries the Father of Lights had revealed to me. Now I was ready to make and to bake – only in my heart, actually – a small, perfect unleavened wafer to eat with my beloved Paschal Lamb. All of a sudden a terrible wind blew up, so strong that I thought the hill my little house was built on would be blown apart – but I’d seen the Devil do things as bad as this before (the Devil had often tried to harm me), so I took heart and went on meditating.

  Till I felt somebody touch me on the back.

  This frightened me so that I didn’t dare turn. I tried to stay as brave and calm as a human being could under the circumstances. I felt my coat tugged at, and tugged again, and at last I looked around. A woman stood there, so bright and beautiful, in a sky-colored robe – a heavens covered with stars.2 She held a trumpet of beaten gold in her hand, and there was a name engraved on it, which I could easily read, but I’m still forbidden to tell it. Under her left arm she had a bundle of letters, in all languages, which she was apparently going to deliver around the world; she had large wings too, full of eyes like a peacock’s,3 that could certainly lift and carry her as fast as an eagle. I might have noticed other things about her too, but she was with me so short a time, and I was so amazed and afraid, that this was all I saw. In fact as soon as I turned around to see her, she started going through her letters and pulled one out – a small one – and very gravely she laid it on my table; then, without having said a word, she left. But as she rose into the air, she blew her trumpet so loudly that the whole hill echoed with it, and for a quarter of an hour afterward I couldn’t hear myself think.

  Till I felt somebody touch me on the back.

  All this was so unexpected that I had no idea how to explain it to myself, or what to tell myself to do next. So I fell to my knees and begged my Maker not to let anything happen to me that would hurt my chances of heaven. Then, trembling, I went to pick up the little letter – which was heavy, as heavy as though it were solid gold, or heavier. As I was cautiously looking it over, I found a little seal, with an odd sort of cross on it,4 and the inscription In hoc signo vinces,5 which made me feel a little better, as such a seal certainly wouldn’t have been used by the Devil. I opened the letter very delicately; it was blue inside, and on it in golden letters a poem was written:

  On this day, this day, this

  The Royal Wedding is!

  If you are one who’s born to see it,

  And if God Himself decree it,

  Then you must to the mountain wend

  Where three stately temples stand.

  From there you’ll know

  Which way to go.

  Be wise, take care,

  Wash well, look fair,

  Or else the Wedding cannot save you.

  Leave right away,

  Watch what you weigh –

  Too little, and they will not have you!

  Beneath this, images of the bride and groom were drawn – sponsus and sponsa.

  I nearly fainted, having read this; my hair stood on end, and a cold sweat trickled down my side – I was sure that this was the very same Wedding that I had first learned about in a vision seven years before! I’d thought about it often since then, and studied the stars and planets to learn what day it would be, and here it was – and yet I couldn’t have known that it would come at such a bad time. I always thought that I’d be an acceptable, even a welcome wedding guest, and I only needed to be ready to go. But now it seemed Providence had a hand in the matter – which I hadn’t been certain about before – and the more I thought about myself, the more I found in my head nothing but confusion and blindness about higher things. I couldn’t even understand things that lay under my own feet, that I met with and handled every day; much less was I “born to see” the secrets of Nature. I thought that Nature could find a better student almost anywhere to entrust with her precious (though transitory) treasures.

  I certainly hadn’t been very wise, or taken care, or “washed well” – my health and hygiene, my social life, and my relations with my neighbors, all could use cleaning up. Life was always pushing me on to get more; I was forever wanting to look good in the world’s eyes and get ahead instead of working for the good of everyone; plotting how I could make a quick profit by this or that scheme, build a big house, make a name for myself, and all that. But those lines about the “three temples” worried me the most; I couldn’t figure out what they meant at all (and I’d still be worrying about it if it hadn’t been revealed to me later on).

  I was stuck between hope and fear, questioning myself over and over and finding nothing but faults and weaknesses, unable to calm down, still alarmed at the threats in that invitation. So I did what I always do – I went to bed, hoping that my good angel might appear to me in sleep and tell me what to do. And that’s just what I learned – for God’s glory, my own betterment, and, by the way, a warning to my neighbors.

  I’d just fallen asleep when I seemed to be in this dark dungeon, chained there with a lot of others. There was no light at all, and we swarmed like bees over one another, which only made things worse. Even though we couldn’t see a thing, we’d hear somebody heave himself over the others when his shackles seemed to be a little lighter, though no one was offering to help him – we had no reason to help anybody get up higher, since we were all in there together.

  This seemed to go on and on, each of us cursing the others for being helpless and blind, when we heard trumpets and drums, which gives us some hope; and then the cover of the dungeon was lifted a bit, and a little light came in. We all went for it, but anyone who got up over another would be forced back down under the feet of those also trying to get up. Me too – I pulled up my heavy shackles and got out from under the rest and up onto a stone ledge, which I got hold of I don’t know how, and fought off others who tried to get on. We thought we were all going to get free, but no. A number of gents looked in at us from up above through the hole, just having fun watching us struggling and fighting. When they’d had enough, one old white-haired man called down to us to be quiet, and as soon as we were, he said this (I can still remember it):

  If each of you would just desist

  From treading underfoot the rest

  My mother would, I’m sure, help all;

  But since that isn’t happening

  You’ll lie in prison suffering.

  Well, never mind: my mother will

  Be watching all your madness still,

  Displaying in the light up here

  Her gifts, which you cannot get near.

  But now in honor of the feast,

  And that her grace may be increased,

  A rope is going to be let down

  And all of those who can hang on

  Will be pulled out, and so set free.

  Who will these lucky persons be?

  He hadn’t even finished speaking when this very old lady came up behind him. She ordered the rope to be let down into our
hole seven times, and whoever could get hold of it and hang on would be pulled up. Oh God the panic that ensued, everyone trying to get hold of the rope and keep others off and only getting in each other’s way. After seven minutes, a bell rings and the men above pull up four of us. I couldn’t reach the rope at all because I’d climbed up on that ledge, which was over against the dungeon wall, and the rope came down in the middle. The rope was let down again, and a lot of people took hold but couldn’t hang on because their chains were too heavy or their hands too tender, but they fought off others who might have done better – in fact several were actually pulled off the rope by others who were unable to hold on themselves – that was how crazy we were in our misery. The saddest cases were those who were so heavy it was impossible they could be lifted up just by their hands on the rope – their hands were practically torn from their arms as they tried to hang on.

  So five rope-drops drew up very few people; the pullers above were so quick that as soon as the bell rang, up went the rope, though almost empty. The many who remained, including myself, called on God for mercy and salvation, and apparently he heard me at least,6 because when the rope came down the sixth time some few took hold of it, and then as it was being pulled up it swung from side to side and reached me. I jumped and grabbed hold above all the others. So I got out, and I was so overcome with joy I never even noticed a bad cut on my head from a rock, which I got coming out. I joined the others from my rope who were helping to pull up the next rope, the seventh and last, because that’s what you did. The straining caused the blood to run down over my clothes, but I didn’t care.

  When the last haul was done, which brought up the most, the old woman ordered the rope put away. She ordered her aged son to go tell the rest of those below what would happen next. He thought for a while and then called down to them:

  Now all the rest of you,

  Should know that all we do

  We have intended to.

  Don’t think my mother there

  With you has not played fair.

  But let’s be of good cheer!

  The time is drawing near

  When all shall equal be –

  No poor, no rich – you’ll see:

  He who now lives large and free

  Will then have work to do, and he

  Who’s got a world to bustle in –

  Left with nothing but his skin!

  So stop all your complaining!

  A short time’s now remaining –

  Then see what we will do!

  As soon as he was done, the cover of the hole was put on again and locked down; the trumpets and drums started up again, but they weren’t loud enough to drown out the screaming and wailing of the prisoners in the dungeon below, which brought tears to my eyes. The old woman and her son sat down on seats that had been set for them, and she wanted to know how many had been got out. When she had the number, and had written it in a little golden-yellow tablet, she asked us all our names and wrote them all down too.

  She looked us all over, and I could hear her say to her son, “I’m so sorry for the others left in the dungeon! I wish I dared to let them all out.”

  “That’s the way it has to be, Mother,” said the son, “and we shouldn’t object. Just think – if everyone on earth was a lord, living the good life, then who would be left to do the serving?”7

  His mother didn’t respond, except to say, “Well, anyway, take the shackles off these ones.”

  I was one of the last to be freed, and I couldn’t help bowing to the old woman and thanking God that, through her, I had got out of that darkness into the daylight. Everyone else, seeing me, did the same thing, which pleased her.

  Lastly everyone was given a gold coin for a souvenir and to spend along the way. On one side of these was stamped a rising sun, and on the other, as I remember, the letters D.L.S.8 We were told that for God’s sake and our neighbors’ sakes we should keep quiet about what had happened to us and what we were given. Then we were allowed to go. But those shackles had hurt my ankles so badly that I could hardly shuffle, and the old woman laughed at me. “Don’t take it too hard,” she said. “Just let it remind you to be grateful that you were allowed to come into the light, even though now you’re crippled. Go, and take care of yourself – do that for me.”9

  Then the trumpets blared again – which startled me so much that I woke up.

  Even when I realized it had all been a dream, it was so gripping that I thought I could still feel the wounds on my ankles. But wasn’t this dream really telling me that I ought to go and at least attempt to be among those present at this wedding? Certainly! And so like a little child I gave thanks to Him, and asked that He keep me always in awe of Him, and fill my heart every day with wisdom and understanding, and lead me (even though I didn’t deserve it) to a happy ending at last.

  So I prepared myself for the journey. I put on my white linen coat, fastened with a blood-red ribbon bound crossways over my shoulder. I put four red roses in my hat, so that I would stick out somewhat among the crowd.10 For food I took bread and salt, as a wise man had once told me to do in cases like this – it had turned out to be the right thing too.11 But before I left, I got down on my knees in my wedding garment and asked God that if what seemed to be about to happen really did happen, that only good would come of it; and I made a vow, that if anything was revealed to me, I wouldn’t use it for my own benefit or power in the world but for the spreading of His name and the service of my neighbor.

  And with that vow, I left my little room and set out hopefully and joyfully on the way.

  1 Christian’s story begins just before Easter, like Dante’s Divine Comedy. It can be seen as an allegory of Christ’s death and resurrection, though this idea produces some puzzles.

  2 The attributes of this figure – the trumpet, the wings, the letters to the world – identify her as the common allegorical figure Fama, or Fame. A marginal gloss in the original, however, names her in Latin as “Praeconissa” or “Announcer.” Throughout the book, Latin marginal glosses signpost the narrative, or explain or decipher (or complicate) various names or symbolic references or codes. The present edition has not included them, but will refer to them here when they seem interesting.

  3 Because the spots on a peacock’s tail resemble wide-open eyes, the peacock was a common symbol for divine omniscience (seraphim were pictured with peacock wings), but the peacock was of course also a symbol of pride and vainglory. In alchemy the peacock was a symbol of the “rainbow” stage of the chemical process, in which the original matter to be transformed, which has passed through a black or nigredo stage, now appears as multi-colored, before passing to the final white (albedo) or red (rubedo) stage. Those stages were also represented by birds: the crow for the nigredo, dove for the albedo, etc.

  4 The marginal illustration here shows not a Christian cross but the alchemical/mystical sign created by the English mathematician and alchemist John Dee, which he called Monas hieroglyphica, or “Sacred symbol of the Monad.” Dee considered his figure an emblem of the universe and said it included the signs of the zodiac, the Christian cross, the four elements, and other things. It appeared in two books of Dee’s that were in circulation in Europe before CW appeared, and a version of Dee’s explication of it is appended to an earlier Rosicrucian manifesto. Dee himself could be a model for the ideal Rosicrucian: he traveled in many lands, he was a healer, he was humble and devoted to gaining esoteric knowledge to help others. Frances Yates (The Rosicrucian Enlightenment, 1972) suggests that his travels and adventures (which purportedly included summoning angels and making gold) were an inspiration for the Rosicrucian writers.

  5 “In this sign [the Cross] you will conquer” – a message supposedly seen, with the image of a cross, by the Emperor Constantine in the sky before a battle. When he won the battle he became a Christian.

  6 Throughout the story, Christian is always thinking of himself as unfortunate, sinful, the least of the least, and yet he continuously lucks out,
is chosen for special favors, and wins through. This attitude is consonant with Andreae’s Lutheran Christian theology, and is so constant that one major commenter has interpreted CW as a Christian allegory.

  7 This assorts a little strangely with the revolutionary tone of the poem just spoken.

  8 The gloss here interprets the letters on the coin as “Deus lux solis” (God, the light of the sun) or “Deo laus semper” (Praise always to God). Like so many things in this book, the ambivalent interpretation is hardly definitive, as we can’t tell who added these marginal glosses – Christian, who doesn’t seem to know what the letters mean? Andreae, explicating his own story? An unnamed annotator?

  9 Everett Bleiler (Science Fiction Studies, March 2008) notes that this narrow escape with an unhealed wound foreshadows what will become of Christian at the end of the book.

  10 Christian’s outfit here is a model of the heraldic arms of the Andreae family: white with a red cross and four roses in the four divisions. How this fits with the rose-cross symbolism of the earlier texts is impossible to determine, though it’s one more piece of (ambiguous) evidence that Andreae had a hand in the earlier documents.