INTRODUCTION
1
Trasumanar significa per verba
non si poria; però, l’esemplo basti
a cui esperienza grazia serba.
There are few figures in history more strange and beautiful than
that of Jacob Boehme. With a few exceptions the outward events of
his life were unremarkable. He was born in 1575 at the village Alt
Seidenberg, two miles from Goerlitz in Germany and close to the
Bohemian border. His parents were poor, and in childhood he was put
to mind their cattle. It was in the solitude of the fields that he
first beheld a vision, and assuredly his contemplative spirit must
have been well nourished by the continual companionship of
nature.
Physically he was not robust (though he never had a sickness), and
for this reason his parents, when he was fourteen, apprenticed him
to a shoemaker. Of his apprenticeship nothing is recorded, I think,
except a story about a mysterious man who came once to the shop
when the master was away, and taking Jacob by both hands foretold
to him the great work that he should accomplish.
In 1599, when he was four-and-twenty, he became a master shoemaker,
and in the same year he married the daughter of a butcher. The girl
developed into a capable considerate woman, and they lived together
happily until Boehme died. They had four sons and probably two
daughters, but his children do not figure prominently in the story
of his life. Already he had been visited by a sudden illumination
of mind, and in 1600 he experienced the second of those marvellous
ecstasies that gave splendour to the whole of his after-life. This,
also, was followed by a third and still more brilliant illumination
that made clear and complete much that in his previous visions had
been obscure and unrelated.
The more dramatic portion of his life begins, however, with the
publication of his first book (about 1612). At first he called it
Morning-Glow, but at the suggestion of a friend he altered the
title to that under which it has become world-famous—Aurora.
Now although Lutheranism had severely shaken the old orthodoxy, it
had itself become, in Boehme's time, an orthodoxy just as rigid.
Quite naturally the book was read by the pastor of Goerlitz, one
Gregorius Richter. He was a man intolerant, conceited, violent of
temper, and obtuse of intellect. He despised and feared the
shoemaker. The book ruffled him into a self-righteous passion, and
hurrying to the City Council he demanded that Boehme should be
banished. The Council was afraid to refuse, and Boehme (like nearly
all the truth-bringers) was exiled from his native town.
On the morrow, however, the Council convened again. Its members
were stirred by a fine shame when it was put to them that they had
banished a citizen of stainless reputation, and one, indeed, who
regularly attended church. They recalled him at once, but on
condition that he should write no books.
In the following year he changed his occupation. Literary work had
caused his business to decline, and having sold the shop he
journeyed to the larger cities of the neighbourhood (such, for
example, as Prague and Dresden) selling woollen gloves; but after a
while it was no longer possible for him to disobey the inner
command that he should give to men his revelations, and in these
last ten years he composed the unique and shining books of which we
have a selection in this volume.
Gregorius Richter, as we should expect, by no means left him at
peace. He was denounced from the pulpit and in his own hearing.
Scurrilous treatises were flung at him, treatises full of personal
abuse and ignoble sneers at his profession. " His writing,"
observed those who represented the Son of the carpenter, "smells
overmuch of cobbler's pitch;" and again we read, "Will ye have the
words of Jesus Christ or the words of a shoemaker?" The shoemaker
answered them gently and with dignity, as when he declared, "Not I,
the I that I am, knows these things, but God knows them in
me."
In 1624 his friend Abraham von Frankenburg republished a selection
of his writings under the title of The Way to Christ. Its radiant
beauty impelled the respect of many who belonged to the orthodox
church, and this very fact inflamed the Tertullians of his native
town. Again they banished him on the charge of impiety, and even
refused that he should say farewell to his wife and sons. He went
to Dresden. There already he had found a friend in Dr. Hinkelmann.
It is pleasant to, record that while he was at Dresden the emperor
convened a meeting of eminent divines, that Boehme was invited, and
that the depth and spirituality of his thought, together with the
charm and modesty with which he expressed it, were received with
admiration by many and with enthusiasm by the learned doctors
Gerhard and Meissner.
But at the end of the year (November 20, 1624) he died, happily and
in the presence of a loving and beloved son. He had foretold the
very hour of his death. So relentless were his opponents in
Goerlitz that, until the intervention of the powerful Count
Hannibal von Drohna, they refused a burial service, and the very
priest who had attended him in death, being forced by the Council
to make an oration, began by declaring that he would rather walk
twenty miles than praise the gentle Boehme. The elaborate cross,
too, which was put upon his tomb was torn down in anger.
We are told by Frankenburg, his friend, that he was short in
stature, "worn and very plain," with "grey eyes, that lightened
into a celestial blue, a low forehead, a thin beard, and an
aquiline nose."
Now in the study of mysticism we soon find the essential experience
of all mystics to have been identical, and that among them is no
figure more representative than Jacob Boehme: so that when we read
this book we are like men who from the vantage-point of one of its
highest hills can see below and around them the whole expanse of a
beautiful and unearthly island. If it allures us we shall then
delight in exploring its verdant valleys or spirit-peopled woods or
quiet starlit gardens, and all the mysterious birds and blossoms
that fly or flutter within them; but if it does not seem attractive
we can push off and sail for another country. By no true philalethe
can mysticism be honourably ignored. It is either the noblest folly
or the grandest achievement of man's mind. Alexander and Napoleon
were ambitious, but their ambition dwindles to insignificance when
it is compared with that of the mystic. The purpose of the mystic
is the mightiest and most solemn that can ever be, for the central
aim of all mysticism is to soar out of separate personality up to
the very Consciousness of God.
So well, indeed, had Roman Catholicism taught those who were
religious the insignificance of the human soul that few among the
European mystics of the Middle Ages or the Renaissance were so
brilliantly conscious that they could cry out boldly with Meister
Eckhardt, "I truly have need of God, but God has need of me." Often
they shrank from the ultimate experience, wholly worshipping God
indeed, but retaining ever a sense of separateness. Their very
humility was the final veil of egotism which they dared not
rend.
Jacob Boehme, the last of the great European mystics, having
imagined the Spirit which pervades the universe, knew well how
little was the stature of his human personality; but he had
realised that God was verily within him, and he spoke with the
uprightness of a divine being. Unflaggingly he counsels men (as in
The Supersensual Life) to turn away from the worthless and
separated self which hungers for honour or for bodily comfort, in
order that they should rediscover within themselves "what was
before nature and creature." And he means by this phrase "that
light which lighteth every man who cometh into the world." It is
here, he says, now and always: we have but to extricate our
consciousness from all that is the effect of our time and place. We
have but to quiet cur own thoughts and desires, and we shall hear
at once the harmonies of heaven.
The danger of such a doctrine is apparent. The true mystic may
safely follow his Inward Light, but the enchanted apples are
guarded by dragons and are only to be captured by the strong. Many
a self-styled mystic has wasted his life in "waiting for the spark
that never came:" wasted, we say, though surely not worse wasted
than the thousands of lives that, for all their activity, bring
nothing to the soul. It is something at least to have striven for
the noblest of all ends. We must choose either safety or romance,
and mysticism is the romance of religion; the mystic an explorer in
the spiritual world. He does not use the instruments of intellect.
He experiments. Perhaps, like the Persian Sufi poets, he thinks of
God as the Great Beloved, and then, directing all his power of love
to the most glorious idea that he is able to conceive, he finds
that his emotion like a river has carried him into a state of soul
in which he is vividly conscious of the Divine Presence. In that
state he beholds the visible world as it were from within. He
perceives the spiritual cause of all these material effects. He
understands the essential nature of trees and flowers and mountains
and the live creatures of the world. No longer does he see men by
those dim lights that penetrate the dense and cloudy world of
matter. He sees them as angelic toilers bowed by the burden of
their own mundane selves. And he knows the insignificance of much
that we deem important, the deep value of much that we count
accessory, for having cleansed his vision of all personal
impediment he apprehends the true proportion of all the elements
that compose the universe. The vast realisations that shine within
him then are by their nature not easy to express in common terms.
Who that has loved could explain his experience to one that had
never loved? Only those who are near can understand, and that is
why so often the words of mystics are obscure.
Sometimes the seer will attempt to explain his illumined state,
like St. John or Jalàlu-d-din Rūmi, by the use of brilliant symbols
adapted from the material world; sometimes, like Plotinus or
Boehme, by the use of the most abstract words in order that the
mind may be led away from worldly associations: but all alike have
looked upon one splendour. By many ways they have travelled
homeward to that ideal state in which alone the unshackled soul has
perfect freedom, and in this book, assuredly, we are communing with
one who, if any among men has ever done so, broke free from the
bonds of personality and could look upon the universe with the eyes
of God.
CLIFFORD BAX.
Footnotes
v:1 The biographic substance of this introduction is
principally drawn from Dr. Hartmann's rare volume, and from
Professor Deussen's Preface to the magnificent edition of Boehme's
works.
PREFACE TO THE READER
THIS book is a true mystical mirror of the highest wisdom. The best
treasure that a man can attain unto in this world is true
knowledge; even the knowledge of himself: For man is the great
mystery of God, the microcosm, or the complete abridgment of the
whole universe: He is the mirandum Dei opus, God's masterpiece, a
living emblem and hieroglyphic of eternity and time; and therefore
to know whence he is, and what his temporal and eternal being and
well-being are, must needs be that ONE necessary thing, to which
all our chief study should aim, and in comparison of which all the
wealth of this world is but dross, and a loss to us.
Hence Solomon, the wisest of the kings of Israel, says: "Happy is
the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth
understanding; for the merchandise of it is better than the
merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold; she is
more precious than rubies, and all things that can be desired are
not to be compared unto her."
This is that wisdom which dwells in nothing, and yet possesses all
things, and the humble resigned soul is its playfellow; this is the
divine alloquy, the inspiration of the Almighty, the breath of God,
the holy unction, which sanctifies the soul to be the temple of the
Holy Ghost, which instructs it aright in all things, and searches
τὰ βάθη το̃υ Θεο̃υ, 1 the depths of God.
This is the precious pearl, whose beauty is more glorious, and
whose virtue more sovereign than the sun: It is a never-failing
comfort in all afflictions, a balsam for all sores, a panacea for
all diseases, a sure antidote against all poison, and death itself;
it is that joyful and assured companion and guide, which never
forsakes a man, but convoys him through this valley of misery and
death into the blessed paradise of perfect bliss.
If you ask, What is the way to attain to this wisdom? Behold!
Christ, who is the way, the truth, and the life, tells you plainly
in these words; "If any man will come after me, let him deny
himself, and take up his cross daily and follow me;" 2 or as he
says elsewhere, "Unless you be born again, you cannot see the
kingdom of heaven:" or as St. Paul says, "If any man seemeth to be
wise in this world, let him become a fool that he may be wise."
1
Herein lies that simple childlike way to the highest wisdom, which
no sharp reason or worldly learning can reach unto; nay, it is
foolishness to reason, and therefore so few go the way to find it:
The proud sophisters and wiselings of this world have always
trampled it under foot with scorn and contempt, and have called it
enthusiasm, madness, melancholy, whimsy, fancy, etc., but wisdom is
justified of her children.
Indeed, every one is not fit for or capable of the knowledge of the
eternal and temporal nature in its mysterious operation, neither is
the proud covetous world worthy to receive a clear manifestation of
it; and therefore the only wise God (who giveth wisdom to every one
that asketh it aright of him) has locked up the jewel in his
blessed treasury, which none can open but those that have the key;
which is this, viz., "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye
shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: "The Father
will give the Spirit to them that ask him for it.
This is the true theosophic school wherein this author learned the
first rudiments and principles of wisdom, and to which we must go
if we would understand his deep writings: For we must know that the
sons of Hermes, who have commenced in the high school of true magic
and theosophy, have always spoken their hidden wisdom in a mystery;
and have so couched it under shadows and figures, parables and
similies, that none can understand their obscure, yet clear
writings, but those who have had admittance into the same school,
and have tasted of the Feast of Pentecost.
And this does not seem at all strange to the children of divine
Mercury; for the mysteries of philosophy, divinity, and theosophy
must not be profaned, and laid open to the view of the outward
astral reason, which turns all to its selfish pride, covetousness,
envy, wrath, and cunning hypocrisy; and therefore a parabolical or
magical phrase or dialect is the best and plainest habit and dress
that mysteries can have to travel in up and down this wicked world:
And thus parable have a double and different respect and use; for
as they conceal and hide secrets from the rude and vulgar sort, who
are not able or patient to bear anything but what suits with their
common conceits and opinions, so likewise they sweetly lead the
mind of the true searcher into the depths of wisdom's council. They
are as the cloudy pillar of Moses; they have a dark part, and they
have a light part; they are dark to the Egyptians, the pharisaical
sons of sophistry, but light to the true Israel, the children of
the mystery.
And therefore whoever will be nurtured and trained up by Sophia,
and learn to understand and speak the language of wisdom, must be
born again of and in the Word of Wisdom, Christ Jesus, the Immortal
Seed: The divine essence which God breathed into his paradisical
soul must be revived, and he must become one again with that which
he was in God before he was a creature, and then his Eternal Spirit
may enter into that which is within the veil, and see not only the
literal, but the moral, allegorical, and anagogical meaning of the
wise and their dark sayings: He then will be fit to enter, not only
into Solomon's porch, the outer court of natural philosophy, sense
and reason, but likewise into the inward court of holy and
spiritual exercises, in divine understanding and knowledge; and so
he may step into the most inward and holiest place of theosophical
mysteries, into which none are admitted to come, but those who have
received the high and holy unction.
I will now endeavour briefly to hint to the reader what this book
contains, though in it the spirit of wisdom cannot be delineated
with pen and ink, no more than a sound can be painted, or the wind
grasped in the hollow of the hand: But know, that in it he
deciphers and represents in a lively manner the Signature of all
Things, and gives you the contents of eternity and time, and
glances at all mysteries.
Herein the author sets forth fundamentally the birth, sympathy, and
antipathy of all beings; how all beings originally arise out of one
eternal mystery, and how that same mystery begets itself in itself
from eternity to eternity; and likewise how all things, which take
their original out of this eternal mystery, may be changed into
evil, and again out of evil into good; with a clear and manifest
demonstration how man has turned himself out of the good into the
evil, and how his transmutation is again out of the evil into the
good: Moreover, herein is declared the outward cure of the body;
how the outward life may be freed from sickness by its likeness or
assimulate, and be again introduced into its first essence; where
also, by way of parable and similitude, the Philosopher's Stone is
with great life described for the temporal cure; and along with it
the holy Corner Stone, Christ alone, for the everlasting cure,
regeneration, and perfect restitution of all the true, faithful,
eternal souls. In a word, his intent is to let you know the inward
power and property by the outward sign; for nature has given marks
and notes to everything, whereby it may be known; and this is the
Language of Nature, which signifies for what everything is good and
profitable: And herein lies the mystery, or central science of the
high philosophical work in the true spagiric art, which consummates
the cure, not only for the body, but for the soul.
But let the reader know that the sharp speculation of his own
reason will never pry into the depth of this book, but rather bring
him into a maze of doubtful notions, wherein he will bewilder
himself, and think the author's phrase tedious and strange; and
therefore the understanding lies only in the manifestation of that
Spirit, which in the Day of Pentecost gave forth the true sense and
meaning of all languages in one: Now if that Spirit rules and
dwells in you, then you may understand this author in the deepest
ground, according to your creaturely constellation, both in the
eternal and temporal nature; but if not, these things will be but
as a relation of trifles and chimeras to you. And therefore if you
be of a saturnine property, dull and dark, shut up in the house of
Luna, soar not too high with your censure and scorn, or with a
critical speculation of your outward reason, lest you fall indeed
into the deep abyss of darkness; but wait patiently, till the
divine Sol shall shine again in your dark and selfish Saturn, and
give you some beams and glimpses of his eternal light, and then
your angry Mars will be changed into pure love-zeal, and your
prating, pharisaical and hypocritical Mercury into a meek, mild,
and Christian speaking of God's works and wonders in the
dispensation of his wisdom; and your doubtful, unsettled Jupiter
will be turned into a plerophory, or most full assurance of true
joy and saving comfort in your religion; your earthly Venus into
heavenly love, and your eclipsed mutable Luna into the pure,
perfect, and crystalline streams of light, life, and glory.
But the proud scorner that will take no warning is of Lucifer's
regiment, who saw the mystery of God's kingdom to stand in
meekness, simplicity, and deep humility, and therefore out of his
pride would aspire to be above the divine love, and harmony of
obedience to God's will, and so fell into the abyss of the dark
world, into the outmost darkness of the first principle, which we
call Hell, where he and his legions are captives; from which the
Almighty God of Love deliver us.
I will end with the words of the author at the conclusion of the
book, where he says thus; "I have faithfully, with all true
admonition, represented to the reader what the Lord of all beings
has given me; he may behold himself in this looking-glass 1 within
and without, and so he shall find what and who he is: Every reader,
be he good or bad, will find his profit and benefit therein: It is
a very clear gate of the great mystery of all beings: By glosses,
commentaries, curiosity and self-wit, none shall be able to reach
or apprehend it in his own ground; but it may very well meet and
embrace the true seeker, and create him much profit and joy; yea be
helpful to him in all natural things, provided he applies himself
to it aright, and seeks in the fear of God, seeing it is now a time
of seeking; for a lily blossoms upon the mountains and valleys in
all the ends of the earth: 'He that seeketh findeth.'" And so I
commend the reader to the grace and love of Jesus Christ, in whom
are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.
Footnotes
3:1 Cor. ii. 10.
3:2 Luke ix. 23.
4:1 1 Cor. iii. 13.
7:1 Mirror.
CHAPTER I HOW THAT ALL WHATEVER IS SPOKEN OF GOD WITHOUT THE
KNOWLEDGE OF THE SIGNATURE IS DUMB AND WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING; AND
THAT IN THE MIND OF MAN THE SIGNATURE LIES VERY EXACTLY COMPOSED
ACCORDING TO THE ESSENCE OF ALL ESSENCES 1
1. All whatever is spoken, written, or taught of God, without the
knowledge of the signature is dumb and void of understanding; for
it proceeds only from an historical conjecture, from the mouth of
another, wherein the spirit without knowledge is dumb; but if the
spirit opens to him the signature, then he understands the speech
of another; and further, he understands how the spirit has
manifested and revealed itself (out of the essence through the
principle) in the sound with the voice. For though I see one to
speak, teach, preach, and write of God, and though I hear and read
the same, yet this is not sufficient for me to understand him; but
if his sound and spirit out of his signature and similitude enter
into my own similitude, and imprint his similitude into mine, then
I may understand him really and fundamentally, be it either spoken
or written, if he has the hammer that can strike my bell.
2. By this we know, that all human properties proceed from one;
that they all have but one only root and mother; otherwise one man
could not understand another in the sound, for with the sound or
speech the form notes and imprints itself into the similitude of
another; a like tone or sound catches and moves another, and in the
sound the spirit imprints its own similitude, which it has
conceived in the essence, and brought to form in the
principle.
3. So that in the word may be understood in what the spirit has
conceived, 1 either in good or evil; and with this signature he
enters into another man's form, and awakens also in the other such
a form in the signature; so that both forms mutually assimulate
together in one form, and then there is one comprehension, one
will, one spirit, and also one understanding.
4. And then secondly we understand, that the signature or form is
no spirit, but the receptacle, container, or cabinet of the spirit,
wherein it lies; for the signature stands in the essence, and is as
a lute that liest still, and is indeed a dumb thing that is neither
heard or understood; but if it be played upon, then its form is
understood, in what form and tune it stands, and according to what
note it is set. Thus likewise the signature of nature in its form
is a dumb essence; it is as a prepared instrument of music, upon
which the will's spirit plays; what strings he touches, they sound
according to their property.
5. In the human mind the signature lies most artificially composed,
according to the essence of all essences; and man wants nothing but
the wise master that can strike his instrument, which is the true
spirit of the high might of eternity; if that be quickened in man,
that it stirs and acts in the centre of the mind, then it plays on
the instrument of the human form, and even then the form is uttered
2 with the sound in the word: As his instrument was set in the time
of his incarnation, 3 so it sounds, and so is his knowledge; the
inward manifests itself in the sound of the word, for that is the
mind's natural knowledge of itself.
6. Man has indeed all the forms of all the three worlds lying in
him; for he is a complete image of God, or of the Being of all
beings; only the order is placed in him at his incarnation; for
there are three work-masters in him which prepare his form [or
signature], viz. the threefold fiat, according to the three worlds;
and they are in contest about the form, and the form is figured
according to the contest; which of the masters holds the
predominant rule, and obtains it in the essence, according to that
his instrument is tuned, and the other lie hid, and come behind
with their sound, as it plainly shews itself.
7. So soon as man is born into this world, his spirit plays upon
his instrument, so that his innate genuine form [or signature] in
good or evil is seen by his words and conversation; for as his
instrument sounds, accordingly the senses and thoughts proceed from
the essence of the mind, and so the external spirit of the will is
carried in its behaviour, as is to be seen both in men and beasts;
that there is a great difference in the procreation, that one
brother and sister does not as the other.
8. Further we are to know, that though one fiat thus keeps the
upper hand, and figures the form according to itself, that yet the
other two give their sound, if their instrument be but played upon;
as it is seen that many a man, and also many a beast, though it is
very much inclined either to good or evil, yet it is moved either
to evil or good by a contrary tune, and often lets its inbred
signature [or figure] fall, when the contrary tune is played upon
his hidden lute or form: As we see that an evil man is often moved
by a good man to repent of and cease from his iniquity, when the
good man touches and strikes his hidden instrument with his meek
and loving spirit.
9. And thus also it happens to the good man, that when the wicked
man strikes his hidden instrument with the spirit of his wrath,
that then the form of anger is stirred up also in the good man, and
the one is set against the other, that so one might be the cure and
healer of the other. For as the vital signature, that is, as the
form of life is figured in the time of the fiat at the conception,
even so is its natural spirit; for it takes its rise out of the
essence of all the three principles, and such a will it acts and
manifests out of its property.
10. But now the will may be broken; for when a stronger comes, and
raises his inward signature with his introduced sound and will's
spirit, then its upper dominion loses the power, right, and
authority; which we see in the powerful influence of the sun, how
that by its strength it qualifies a bitter and sour fruit, turning
it into a sweetness and pleasantness; in like manner how a good man
corrupts among evil company, and also how that a good herb cannot
sufficiently shew its real genuine virtue in a bad soil; for in the
good man the hidden evil instrument is awakened, and in the herb a
contrary essence is received from the earth; so that often the good
is changed into an evil, and the evil into a good.
11. And now observe, as it stands in the power and predominance of
the quality, so it is signed and marked externally in its outward
form, signature, or figure; man in his speech, will, and behaviour,
also with the form of the members which he has, and must use to
that signature, his inward form is noted in the form of his face; 1
and thus also is a beast, an herb, and the trees; everything as it
is inwardly [in its innate virtue and quality] so it is outwardly
signed; and though it falls out, that often a thing is changed from
evil into good, and from good into evil, yet it has its external
character, that the good or evil [that is, the change] may be
known.
12. For man is known herein by his daily practice, also by his
course and discourse; for the upper instrument, which is most
strongly drawn, is always played upon: Thus also it is with a beast
that is wild, but when it is overawed and tamed, and brought to
another property, it does not easily shew its first innate form,
unless it be stirred up, and then it breaks forth, and appears
above all other forms.
13. Thus it is likewise with the herbs of the earth; if an herb be
transplanted out of a bad soil into a good, then it soon gets a
stronger body, and a more pleasant smell and power, and shews the
inward essence externally; and there is nothing that is created or
born in nature, but it also manifests its internal form externally,
for the internal continually labours or works itself forth to
manifestation: As we know it in the power and form of this world,
how the one only essence has manifested itself with the external
birth in the desire of the similitude, how it has manifested itself
in so many forms and shapes, which we see and know in the stars and
elements, likewise in the living creatures, and also in the trees
and herbs.
14. Therefore the greatest understanding lies in the signature,
wherein man (viz. the image of the greatest virtue) may not only
learn to know himself, but therein also he may learn to know the
essence of all essences; for by the external form of all creatures,
by their instigation, inclination and desire, also by their sound,
voice, and speech which they utter, the hidden spirit is known; for
nature has given to everything its language according to its
essence and form, for out of the essence the language or sound
arises, and the fiat of that essence forms the quality of the
essence in the voice or virtue which it sends forth, to the animals
in the sound, and to the essentials 1 in smell, virtue, and
form.
15. Everything has its mouth to manifestation; and this is the
language of nature, whence everything speaks out of its property,
and continually manifests, declares, and sets forth itself for what
it is good or profitable; for each thing manifests its mother,
which thus gives the essence and the will to the form.
Footnotes
9:1 Being of all beings.
10:1 Or, formed itself; or originally put forth itself.
10:2 proceeds from the mouth.
10:3 Or conception.
11:1 His look, or physiognomy.
12:1 Vegetables.
CHAPTER II OF THE OPPOSITION AND COMBAT IN THE ESSENCE OF ALL
ESSENCES, WHEREBY THE GROUND OF THE ANTIPATHY AND SYMPATHY IN
NATURE MAY BE SEEN, AND ALSO THE CORRUPTION AND CURE OF EACH THING
1. Seeing then there are so many and divers forms, that the one
always produces and affords out of its property a will different in
one from another, we herein understand the contrariety and combat
in the Being of all beings, how that one does oppose, poison, and
kill another, that is, overcome its essence, and the spirit of the
essence, and introduces it into another form, whence sickness and
pains arise, when one essence destroys another.
2. And then we understand herein the cure, how the one heals
another, and brings it to health; and if this were not, there were
no nature, but an eternal stillness, and no will; for the contrary
will makes the motion, and the original of the seeking, that the
opposite sound seeks the rest, and yet in the seeking it only
elevates and more enkindles itself.
3. And we are to understand how the cure of each thing consists in
the assimulate; for in the assimulate arises the satisfaction of
the will, viz. its highest joy; for each thing desires a will of
its likeness, and by the contrary will it is discomfited; 1 but if
it obtains a will of its likeness, it rejoices in the assimulate,
and therein falls into rest, and the enmity is turned into
joy.
4. For the eternal nature has produced nothing in its desire,
except a likeness out of itself; and if there were not an
everlasting mixing, there would be an eternal peace in nature, but
so nature would not be revealed and made manifest, in the combat it
becomes manifest; so that each thing elevates itself, and would get
out of the combat into the still rest, and so it runs to and fro,
and thereby only awakens and stirs up the combat.
5. And we find clearly in the light of nature, that there is no
better help and remedy for this opposition, and that it has no,
higher cure than the liberty, that is, the light of nature, which
is the desire of the spirit.
6. And then we find, that the essence cannot be better remedied
than with the assimulate; for the essence is a being, and its
desire is after being: Now every taste desires only its like, and
if it obtains it, then its hunger is satisfied, appeased and eased,
and it ceases to hunger, and rejoices in itself, whereby the
sickness falls into a rest in itself; for the hunger of the
contrariety ceases to work.
7. Seeing now that man's life consists in three principles, viz. in
a threefold essence, and has also a threefold spirit out of the
property of each essence, viz. first, according to the eternal
nature, according to the fire's property; and secondly, according
to the property of the eternal light and divine essentiality; and
thirdly, according to the property of the outward world: Thereupon
we are to consider the property of this threefold spirit, and also
of this threefold essence and will; how each spirit with its
essence introduces itself into strife and sickness, and what its
cure and remedy is.
8. We understand that without nature there is an eternal stillness
and rest, viz. the Nothing; and then we understand that an eternal
will arises in the nothing, to introduce the nothing into
something, that the will might find, feel, and behold itself.
9. For in the nothing the will would not be manifest to itself,
wherefore we know that the will seeks itself, and finds itself in
itself, and its seeking is a desire, and its finding is the essence
of the desire, wherein the will finds itself.
10. It finds nothing except only the property of the hunger, which
is itself, which it draws into itself, that is, draws itself into
itself, and finds itself in itself; and its attraction into itself
makes an overshadowing or darkness in it, which is not in the
liberty, viz. in the nothing; for the will of the liberty
overshadows itself with the essence of the desire, for the desire
makes essence and not the will.
11. Now that the will must be in darkness is its contrariety, and
it conceives in itself another will to go out from the darkness
again into the liberty, viz. into the nothing, and yet it cannot
reach the liberty from without itself, for the desire goes
outwards, and causes source and darkness; therefore the will
(understand the reconceived will) must enter inwards, and yet there
is no separation.
12. For in itself before the desire is the liberty, viz. the
nothing, and the will may not be a nothing, for it desires to
manifest in the nothing; and yet no manifestation can be effected,
except only through the essence of the desire; and the more the
reconceived will desires manifestation, the more strongly and
eagerly the desire draws into itself, and makes in itself three
forms, viz. the desire, which is astringent, and makes hardness,
for it is an enclosing, when coldness arises, and the attraction
causes compunction, 1 and stirring in the hardness, an enmity
against the attracted hardness; the attraction is the second form,
and a cause of motion and life, and stirs itself in the astringency
and hardness, which the hardness, viz. the enclosing, 2 cannot
endure, and therefore it attracts more eagerly to hold the
compunction, and yet the compunction is thereby only the
stronger.
13. Thus the compunction willeth upwards, and whirls crossways, and
yet cannot effect it, for the hardness, viz. the desire stays and
detains it, and therefore it stands like a triangle, and
transverted orb, which (seeing it cannot remove from the place)
becomes wheeling, whence arises the mixture in the desire, viz. the
essence, or multiplicity of the desire; for the turning makes a
continual confusion and contrition, whence the anguish, viz. the
pain, the third form (or sting of sense) arises.
14. But seeing the desire, viz. the astringency becomes only the
more strong thereby (for from the stirring arises the wrath and
nature, viz. the motion), the first will to the desire is made
wholly austere and a hunger, for it is in a hard compunctive dry
essence, and also cannot get rid and quit of it, for itself makes
the essence, and likewise possesses it, for thus it finds itself
now out of nothing in the something, 3 and the something is yet its
contrary will, for it is an unquietness, and the free-will is a
stillness.
15. This is now the original of enmity, that nature opposes the
free-will, and a thing is at enmity in itself; and here we
understand the centre of nature with three forms, in the original,
viz. in the first principle, it is Spirit; in the second it is
Love, and in the third principle Essence; and these three forms are
called in the third principle Sulphur, Mercury, and Sal.
16. Understand it thus: Sul is in the first principle the freewill,
or the lubet in the nothing to something, it is in the liberty
without nature; Phur is the desire of the free lubet, and makes in
itself, in the Phur, viz. in the desire, an essence, and this
essence is austere by reason of the attraction, and introduces
itself into three forms (as is above mentioned) and so forward into
the fourth form, viz. into the fire; in the Phur the original of
the eternal and also external nature is understood, for the
hardness is a mother of the sharpness of all essences, and a
preserver of all essences; out of the Sul, viz. out of the lubet of
the liberty, the dark anguish becomes a shining light; and in the
third principle, viz. in the outward kingdom, Sul is the oil of
nature, wherein the life burns, and everything grows.
17. But now the Phur, viz. the desire, is not divided from Sul; it
is one word, one original also, and one essence, but it severs
itself into two properties, viz. into joy and sorrow, light and
darkness; for it makes two worlds, viz. a dark fire-world in the
austereness, and a light fire-world in the lubet of the liberty;
for the lubet of the liberty is the only cause that the fire
shines, for the original fire is dark and black, for in the shining
of the fire in the original the Deity is understood, and in the
dark fire, viz. in the anguish-source, the original of nature is
understood, and herein we do further understand the cure.
18. The source is the cure of the free lubet, viz. of the still
eternity; for the stillness finds itself alive therein, it brings
itself through the anguish-source into life, viz. into the kingdom
of joy, namely that the nothing is become an eternal life, and has
found itself, which cannot be in the stillness.
19. Secondly, we find that the Sul, viz. the lubet of the liberty,
is the curer of the desire, viz. of the anxious nature: for the
lustre of the liberty does again (from the enkindled fire out of
nature) shine in the dark anguish, and fills or satiates the
anguish with the liberty, whereby the wrath extinguishes, and the
turning orb stands still, and instead of the turning a sound is
caused in the essence.
20. This is now the form of the spiritual life, and of the
essential life; Sul is the original of the joyful life, and Phur is
the original of the essential life; the lubet is before and without
nature, which is the true Sul; and the spirit is made manifest in
nature, viz. through the source, and that in a twofold form, viz.
according to the lubet of the liberty in a source of joy, and
according to the anxious desire's lubet; according to the
astringency, compunctive, bitter, and envious from the compunction,
and according to the anguish of the wheel wholly murderous and
hateful; and each property dwells in itself, and yet they are in
one another; herein God's love and anger are understood, they dwell
in each other; and the one apprehends not the other, and yet the
one is the curer of the other; understand through imagination, for
the eternal is magical.
21. The second form in nature, in eternity is the Orb with the
compunctive bitter essences: for there arises the essence,
understand with the perturbation; for the nothing is still without
motion, but the perturbation makes the nothing active: but in the
third principle, viz. in the dominion in the essence, and source of
the outward world, the form is called Mercury, which is opposite,
odious, and poisonful, and the cause of life and stirring, also the
cause of the senses: Where one glance 1 may conceive itself in the
infinity, and then also immerse itself into it, where out of one
only the abyssal, unsearchable, and infinite multiplicity may
arise.
22. This form is the unquietness, and yet the seeker of rest; and
with its seeking it causes unquietness, it makes itself its own
enemy; its cure is twofold, for its desire is also twofold, viz.
according to the lubet of the liberty, according to the stillness
and meekness; and then also in the hunger according to the rising
of unquietness, and the finding of itself; the root desires only
joy with the first will, and yet it cannot obtain it, except
through the opposite source, for no joy can arise in the still
nothing; it must arise only through motion and elevation that the
nothing finds itself.
23. Now that which is found desires to enter again into the will of
the still nothing, that it may have peace and rest therein; and the
nothing is its cure; and the wrath and poison is the remedy of the
seeker and finder, that is their life which they find, an example
whereof we have in the poisonous gall, whence in the life arises
joy and sorrow, wherein we also understand a twofold will, viz. one
to the wrathful fire and anxious painful life to the original of
nature, and one to the light-life, viz. to the joy of nature; this
takes its original out of the eternal nothing.
24. The first will's cure is the lubet of the liberty, if it
obtains that, then it makes triumphant joy in itself; and the wrath
in the hungry desire is the curer and helper of the other will,
viz. the will of nature; and herein God's love and anger are
understood, and also how evil and good are in the centre of each
life, and how no joy could arise without sorrow, and how one is the
curer of the other.
25. And here we understand the third will (which takes its original
out of both these, viz. out of such an essence, viz. out of the
mother), viz. the spirit, which has both these properties in it,
and is a son of the properties and also a lord of the same; for in
him consists the power, he may awaken which he pleases; the
properties lie in the essence, and are as a well-constituted life,
or as an instrument with many strings, 1 which stand still; and the
spirit, viz. the egress is the real life, he may play upon the
instrument as he pleases, in evil or good, according to love or
anger; and as he plays, and as the instrument sounds, so is it
received of its contra-tenor, viz. of the assimulate.
26. If the tune of love be played, viz. the liberty's desire, then
is the sound received of the same liberty and love-lubet; for it is
its pleasing relish, and agreeable to its will's desire; one
similar lubet takes another.
27. And thus likewise is it to be understood of the enmity and
contrary will; if the instrument be struck according to the desire
to nature, viz. in the wrath, anger, and bitter falsehood, then the
same contrary sound and wrathful desire receives it; for it is of
its property, and a satiating of its hunger, wherein we understand
the desire of the light, and also of the dark world; a twofold
source and property.
28. The desire of the liberty is meek, easy, and pleasant, and it
is called good; 2 and the desire to nature makes itself in itself
dark, dry, hungry, and wrathful, which is called God's anger, and
the dark world, viz. the first principle; and the light world is
the second principle.
29. And we are to understand, that it is no divided essence, but
one holds the other hidden or closed up in it, and the one is the
beginning and cause of the other, also its healing and cure; that
which is awaked and stirred up, that gets dominion, and manifests
itself externally with its character, and makes a form and
signature according to its will in the external after itself. A
similitude whereof we see in an enraged man or beast; though the
outward man and beast are not in the inward world, yet the outward
nature has even the same forms; for it 3 arises originally from the
inward, 4 and stands upon the inward root.
30. The third form is the anxiousness which arises in nature from
the first and second form, and is the upholder or preserver of the
first and second; it is in itself the sharp fiat; and the second
form has the Verbum, viz. the property to the word, and it consists
in three properties, and makes out of herself with the three the
fourth, viz. the fire; in the external birth, viz. in the third
principle, it is called Sal, or salt, according to its matter; but
in its spirit it has many forms; for it is the fire-root, the great
anguish, it arises betwixt and out of the astringency and
bitterness in the austere attraction; it is the essentiality of
that which is attracted, viz. the corporality, or
comprehensibility; from Sulphur it is of a brimstone nature, and
from Mercury a blaze or flash; it is in itself painful, viz. a
sharpness of dying, and that from the sharp attraction of the
astringency: It has a twofold fire, one cold, another hot; the cold
arises from the astringency, from the sharp attraction, and is a
dark black fire; and the hot arises from the driving forth the
compunction 1 in the anguish in the desire after the liberty, and
the liberty is its enkindler, and the raging compunction is the
cold's fire's awakener. 2
Footnotes