The vital thing is not the transmutation of metals, but that of the person.
The Priory of Sion
Alchemy has been many things throughout history. It has been the property of the ‘puffers’ attempting to make gold; a symbolic path; the key to immortality; and a map of Jungian individuation. Some even link its process to nuclear transmutation.
It is not possible to summarize alchemy in the short space of one chapter, and some would argue that the application of alchemy could never adequately be expressed in language. Like enlightenment or love, no amount of words can convey the experience except to those who have already tasted it.
The practice of alchemy is the thread that links the modern Priory of Sion to the adepts of the past. Alchemy pervades the mysteries of Rennes-le-Château and is at the heart of the Western occult tradition. We must endeavour to approach the core secrets of alchemy as it has the potential to transform people, objects, science and art toward perfection.
In an interview, Nic Haywood affirmed that ‘there are many alchemists among Priory of Sion ranks’. Sion holds these alchemists in high esteem and it is at this level that Sion serves to effect change:
‘Such work is of little use unless the individual can ultimately set his sights on assisting in the worldly journey of his fellow man, facilitating changes and shifts in the collective consciousness. It is to this “underground stream” that such energies are directed.’
There are a number of common misconceptions concerning the Ars Magna, the ‘Great Art’ that is alchemy. Some think that it is entirely concerned with making gold, others that it can be reduced to Jungian individuation or Freudian psychology. A third common interpretation is that alchemy is like the process of meditation or tantra. All of these are correct as aspects of the application of alchemy but none of them encompasses the complete Art.
Alchemy speaks of the search for the ‘Philosopher’s Stone’, yet it seems that many fail to appreciate the ‘philosophical’ element inherent in this term. The fact that it is not a chemist or a scientist but a philosopher who discovers the ‘stone’ tells us something of its nature. The philosophical aspect of the process indicates that it takes places internally first. It begins within the deeper considerations of a philosophical mind.
The risk at this stage is to think that the alchemical process is entirely a symbolic account of internal processes, but this is a valid approach to begin with.
Following this route we move toward the psychology of ritual and the transformational work of Jung’s individuation and Assagioli’s psychosynthesis. The book Alchemy by Johannes Fabricius and the beautifully illustrated Transformation of the Psyche (2003) by Henderson and Sherwood provide excellent starting points for the path of self-contemplation and for many this will be journey enough.
But in Golden Lane in Prague a surprise awaits us in the White Tower, where the emperor Rudolf II once imprisoned the English alchemist Edward Kelley (1555–97). Here we find the remains of an alchemical workshop with kiln, glass alembics, ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ jars and all manner of chemistry apparatus. It is a revelation that takes us beyond the limits of psychology and deep into metallurgy. Alchemists actually did attempt literally to make gold from base metals by chemical distillation. We should not be surprised at this, the process of transmutation, both material or spiritual, is universal and can map perfectly onto psychology, physics, chemistry, art and architecture, in both making gold and synthesizing sub-personalities. These are all aspects of alchemy. It is the Ars Magna of transformation.
The theory and practice of the Western tradition of alchemy have roots in both ancient Greece and ancient Egypt. The Arabic term for alchemy, al-Kimia, means ‘process’, which is also relevant, but the term itself is said to stem from the ancient name of Egypt: Kemet, the Black Land, named from the dark alluvial soil deposited by the inundations of the Nile. From this primary matter life springs forth.
Here we find alchemy at the beginning of creation; it is the source, the seed and the starting point from which all life develops. It concerns itself with the energy of transformation through every stage of life and every aspect of existence. Philosophically, alchemy brings to fruition Platonic idealism. In this, the archetypes of nature are perfect and the goal of alchemy is to accelerate evolution toward that perfection. This is Arcadia waiting to be discovered. Sion affirms that ‘alchemy does in a lifetime what nature takes a thousand years to complete.’
Success at achieving the Magnum Opus, the Great Work of alchemy, affords a view of reality from all sides and to achieve this one must reverberate on all levels: physical, psychological, emotional, chemical and philosophical. All these levels are found in Le Serpent Rouge and in the Rennes-le-Château mystery in general. These can be identified as living works of Hermetic perfection as they mirror the both the process and the individual who seeks to unravel their secrets.
Sion has claimed among its ranks the French artist Jean Cocteau (1889–1963), whose work is imbued with esoteric thought and symbols. As mentioned in previous chapters, Cocteau’s mural in the French church in Leicester Place, off London’s Leicester Square draws upon the 15th-century alchemical treatise Das Buch der heiligen Dreifaltigkeit (The Book of the Holy Trinity) attributed to the German monk Ulmannus. Nic Haywood had recommended that I should locate a copy as it contains ideas important to my quest.
Over time I have tracked down a number of editions of this rare manuscript. It seems that fewer than 20 copies exist in the world and there are no reprints or facsimile copies available. It is a fascinating work, combining alchemical symbolism with heraldic devices and Christian iconography. There are early versions of this text at the Wellcome Institute library in London and in the Glasgow University library in Scotland.
The edition in the Glasgow University library seemed the most complete. It is a beautiful item of perfectly legible and surprisingly readable calligraphy, and 37 glorious plates. This rare old manuscript may be the key to many aspects of the mystery.
At first glance I was instantly struck by how much heraldry pervades the alchemical images. With copious crowns and heraldic shields throughout the work it would seem to allude to the bloodline and the idea of royal secrets reminded me that alchemy is sometimes called the ‘Royal Art’. Also, in terms of the alchemical process, blood has always been symbolic of the smelting of sulphur, which creates a blood-like red fluid when molten.
The most striking plate in the Book of the Holy Trinity is the crucifixion scene with the blue lily (fleur-de-lys) in the background and the Virgin Mary surmounting a sublime crescent moon in the foreground.
I have compared four examples of this plate and certain details common to all four can be considered core to the scene’s meaning.
The Virgin Mary is shown in all four images with long hair past her waist. This feature is usually associated with Mary Magdalene, following the gospel of Luke where an unnamed woman uses her hair to wash the feet of Jesus. Mary Magdalene has waist-length hair in art from the 15th century onward, and long hair was also a symbol of the Merovingians. In the Wellcome Institute version of this image, the figure’s fingers criss-cross in an identical manner to the Magdalene in the altar painting at Rennes-le-Château. This provides a further hint that in this plate the two Marys have been combined into a single figure.
The text states:
‘Man is created out of the twofold sun. The inward, spiritual sun embodies the divine hermaphrodite. He is the personification of unselfish alchemy, consisting of Jesus, the male stone of purity (Mercurius/Spirit) and Mary, the female stone of loveliness (Luna/Body). Their unity with God the Father (Sol/Soul), the petrolith, which strengthens against all the devil’s temptations.’
The ‘inward sun’, or ‘black sun’, is also present in the Cocteau mural, but the fleur-de-lys is replaced with a rose, signifying that the Rosicrucians are the present keepers of this philosophy. According to French legend the fleur-de-lys, or lily flower, was delivered by angels to the Merovingian king, Clovis, at his baptism as a gift from the Virgin Mary. It denotes that the lineage of these kings is considered divine. The link between the fleur-de-lys and French nobility can be seen as early as King Robert of the Franks in the fifth century. A lily can also represent the lineage of the pharaohs.
Here, both alchemy and the bloodline can act as metaphors for each other. We see it in the heraldic devices and in the kings and queens of alchemical manuscripts such as the Splendor Solis or the image of Mary beneath the cross in the Book of the Holy Trinity. This is both the royal art and royal descent. In terms of consciousness they are both descended from the Christ. The key theme of the crucifixion is resurrection and this is of great interest to alchemists.
The resurrection is aptly illustrated by the Tarot card ‘Judgment’, which shows the dead rise up from the earth summoned by the heavenly call of an angel’s trumpet. Like the metals at work in his crucible, the alchemist allows himself to die and be resurrected while still alive. This is the deepest meaning of the Third Degree in Freemasonry and the essence of baptism in all religions: a path to the perfection of human nature. Psychologists see this as the redemption of our darkest unconscious material – our personal ‘demons’ rising up to become angels.
The psychological approach to alchemy is important because it is the most available and readily understandable experience of the Great Work. Transpersonal psychology in particular aims to understand all inner experiences, from the deepest trauma to the heights of religious experience, and, as Jung discovered, this process maps easily onto the archaic illustrations of alchemy. Jung and his followers, such as Marie-Louise von Franz, have even made the bold assertion that we create the world around us and attract those who act out our unconscious issues.
Traditional alchemy often includes a stage of ‘integration’. The integration into the whole of all the parts of the psyche is the work of psychologists, and one application of the science of alchemy. As progress is made toward an integrated personality we begin to experience synchronicities, through which ‘the effectiveness of the self increases’, as von Franz put it in Alchemical Active Imagination. Synchronicity requires the individual to have some influence over their environment through remote manipulation. This is no small revelation.
In alchemy, synchronicity can also be termed ‘correspondence’. It equates with the Hermetic axiom ‘as above, so below’ and with the idea of pilgrimage. With the right psychological attitude it is a means to evolve the self so that it is repeated in the physical world.
Once the evolution of the self is complete, it takes what von Franz refers to as a ‘pure form’. This attracts other pure forms in the physical world, as when the spirit of the individual is pure and the spirit of the object is pure – gold being considered by alchemists the purest – the spirits can converse. Alike spirits are drawn to each other, creating synchronicity.
The perfection of the ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ gold must occur at the same time and results in both the ‘Philosopher’s Stone’ and the flash of gnosis or illumination.
The goal of alchemy is to attain the ‘Philosopher’s Stone’, a stone that according to Nic Haywood ‘comes from heaven, created by man’. The stone is balanced between the physical and spiritual spheres. We find this represented by the physical Philosopher’s Stone, the symbolic ashlar of Freemasonry (see page 160), and by the underlying philosophy of Platonic idealism. As Sion says: ‘Everything ethereal has its physical counterpart (as above, so below, etc.)’.
This allows the application of the stone to any aspect of life and is recognized by other adepts as a reflection of spirit in matter. As Sion describes it:
‘The Philosopher’s Stone is a semi-physical, partly corporeal, partly ethereal matter, cohered, realized and concentrated by the successful alchemist by means of complex methods of distillation. The “flash” of revelation, the Gnostic vision, is captured for all time and may then be applied to any subject matter.’
This is reminiscent of the ‘soul of inanimate objects’ in occult traditions.
‘The fact that the term “making a Golden Head” – essentially a Sufi expression – refers to actively labouring toward discovering the stone is in itself telling.’
The Golden Head comes in many forms but can generally be seen as a reference to the enlightened state of gnosis: direct communication with the divine.
We all experience moments of being connected to something greater than ourselves. For some this manifests as moments of mental clarity or a deep sense of peace; for others something breaks through into their awareness and deep insights about their nature are revealed. When fear subsides we are revealed, our old self breaks open briefly, and in this moment we become closer to the divine. In terms of psychology such moments manifest in ‘peak experiences’, personal revelations that broaden our perception of ourselves and the world around us.
These are simple, often humbling, experiences. But the intention is similar to alchemy: to be open and fearless in our quest for contact with the divine, the experience of gnosis.
The idea of gnosis in its most accessible and available form is that of exploring the feminine intuition that resides in all our hearts. Here we can find our own path to God by experiencing a deeper level of meaning to life and perhaps an experience of the divine.
The development of many of the major religions in the West has led to outward-facing constructs that focus on power and control. They emphasize, and claim ownership of, the external aspects of divinity. Access to the divine can only be via their rules or they cease to be of any value. Parallel to this, the mystery schools of the Western esoteric tradition have developed under constant threat of persecution. These are seen as a challenge by religions as they focus on the internal process; self-discovery of the divine spark that resides in all of us.
Spiritual renewal often requires the collapse of old structures, both externally and internally. These constructs give way to allow a deeper experience, closer to the core of our being.
Faith has its uses but the closer we get to the truth of Jesus, the closer he comes to us. Much can be gleaned from reading the Gnostic scriptures, such as the Gospel of Thomas, which is in the form of a series of 114 sayings attributed to Jesus, for example: ‘Those who lead you say to you, “See, the Kingdom is in the sky”…. [But] it is within you.’ (Gospel of Thomas 3.)
This gospel was discovered at Nag Hammadi in 1945 and, unsurprisingly, has not been accepted by the Vatican. The idea that heaven is within us hands the power of the Church to the individual. That is not to say that organized religions have no purpose: they may guide and support people in their spiritual practice. But they are a barrier to God because they offer a simplified deity for us to relate to, rather than an abstract, experiential phenomenon we can relate with.
Nic Haywood tells us that he is ‘deeply involved with the underlying spirituality that underpins the order and would inevitably replace a dissolved Christianity.’
The Priory of Sion is not a religion. It has core spiritual truths but we must not confuse this with religion. Whereas religions are mostly human constructs and incompatible with one another, spirituality is inherent within all of us; it is compatible with all true expressions of itself and entirely at ease in any time or location.
It is not easy to understand this as an adult after our lives have already been conditioned by Christianity. For most who were exposed from an early age to Christian culture in any form, the idea of God brings to mind the image of an old man. It comes as no surprise that by adulthood many people will have turned their backs on religion and allowed their spirit to go to sleep. By having an image of God that is of no symbolic value, we no longer need to wonder or think about God.
To undo this mindset and remove this block, we have to kill our preconceived idea of God in order to rediscover what God really is. It is necessary to create a space for the divine to manifest through us.
There are other paths, such as meditation and the breathing techniques of yoga. Nature also holds further routes to the true Kingdom. Richard Dawkins may rail against Santa Claus, but does he stop to look up at the stars, or stare out across the ocean? And if so, does this move him in some deep and resonant place, like the stir of a primitive belonging? There is an old saying that ‘man looks through a microscope to see how great he is in relation to everything, he looks through a telescope to see how small and insignificant he is’. I would add that man looks to science to forget who he is. There are moments of wonder to be had by contemplating the stars or standing in a forest or watching the waves arrive from a distant shore. When we open ourselves to being moved at some deep level as the scale and beauty of nature overwhelm the ego, in the deep sense of peace that follows deep spiritual insights may come. This potential to awaken is always present, like a background hum, as we are haunted by the ghost of our true selves. The Gnostics experienced ‘the Self within the self’. Revelation is the Self revealed to the self. Here is how Nic Haywood describes it:
‘Gnosis: that single divine spark or flash that is revelation. This is the goal of every aspirant. The gift from God which raises steward into master, knight into king, pilgrim into saint or neophyte into adept. It is a moment that lasts for an aeon in which and after which all things make perfect sense. Harmony is rendered visible, taste is acquired, and the roots of all matter are perceived and that which was mutable is made fixed. Spirit is made substance, fixed for eternity. This is the “Stone of the Wise”, the sparkle of which is but one’s own reflection in the eyes of Isis, Mother of the Eternal Sea or Source. One finally sees oneself in the mirror that is creation.’
‘To become illumined is an experience which, when the moment occurs, is the most beautiful and divine gift from oneself to oneself. At that moment the word: “I” has a wholly new, but not totally unexpected meaning.’
We have each had moments that embody this. Psychologist Abraham Maslow describes them as ‘peak experiences’: spontaneous experiences of something greater than ourselves.
In the Gospel of Thomas (saying 61), Jesus makes the following statement:
‘For this reason I say, if one is whole, one will be filled with light, but if one is divided, one will be filled with darkness.’
We are born whole but atheists, with no more knowledge of God than we have knowledge of the sun and moon. Over time our personalities fragment and as these parts rule us from our unconscious we become polytheistic, like the ancient Greeks and Egyptians. We harbour a pantheon of influences to appease and express, each fighting for control. Only those few born whole, transcendent or brave enough to take the heroic journey to unify their fragmented psyche will move beyond this.
The Egyptians and Greeks understood their pantheons of archetypal gods and beings as valuable to humanity’s development. They drew these mythical beings on the stars to remind of us of the influence of archetypes.
To resolve the gods and integrate them back into the psyche is of the utmost importance to human development. Using tools such as meditation, psychotherapy or alchemy we might evolve toward synthesis, a whole and unified self, at which point we naturally become monotheistic.
The spiritual path is a strange undertaking that appears in all societies dating back to the dawn of man. This can be seen as an argument for the importance of religion within society, but equally it could be interpreted as a primitive urge that should be understood and allowed to develop unencumbered by organized religion.
If your religion does not help you to achieve a direct experience of the divine then it is an obstacle. We can all take issue with the Catholic Church for its treatment of women, its homophobia and its history of persecution, but its real crime is that it has become a placebo to millions. It has no intention of allowing people to find their own path to God, or of helping them to experience the divine. It exists merely to perpetuate its own power and control.
Ultimately everything that is a barrier to God, be it religions, secret societies or individual human pride, must be allowed to fall away. But for this to happen, there must be a mass revelation, no less: an event on a vast scale that is seen and recognized by all. There is another word for such a revelation, from which it might appear that the end is nigh: apocalypse.