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THE TALE OF THE CANON'S YEOMAN
I served mis canon seven years; but I know no more about Philosophy than I knew before.
I am in debt for gold that I have borrowed, and I know I shall | never live long enough to repay it. Mind my words. When we begin work, our terms are so strange and so scholarly that we seem wonderfully wise to ourselves. Why should I tell you of the exact proportions of the things we work with? I shall tell you about the four vapors and seven bodies as it was tough's to me, in the order my master names them: Sun is gold Mercury is quicksilver Moon is silver Saturn is lead Mars is iron Jupiter is tin Venus is copper by the soul of my father? He who practises this accursed craft of transmuting metals, loses everything he invests in it. He shall not have enough for his needs. It never turns into gold. Let any man who has money become a philosopher; whether he has book-learning or not, the end is just the same. Our losses drive us crazy; but then hoping for success, we start all over again. You can't give up the game. You can't stop until there is nothing left.
Many times it happens that the pot breaks to pieces and all is lost. These metals are so violent. Some bury themselves in the earth, ^'me break the walls of the house, some
• "I'll tell you something, if you care to learn, I In simple language, how I came to turn I My talents toward alchemy and science.
• Watch You can place an absolute reliance I On seeing me work a miracle ere' I go."
• "What" said the priest, "Can that be really “?
• Mother of God! I beg you to proceed"
This was just the very thing to rouge the priest. His eyes shone itch avarice "Sir," said the canon, "send your man for an ounce or two of quills silver and let us have it at once. As soon as he returns, you shall steel such a miracle as you never saw before."
When the man brought the quicksilver, he was sent out to bring coals. Then the canon took a crucible from inside his robe and showed I it to the priest. 'Take this instrument which you see in my hand,'; he said. "Put an ounce of quicksilver in it yourself, and with that yoyos begin, in the name of Christ, to become a philosopher. You will now actually see that I shall change this quicksilver into real silver right before your eyes. I will make it into as good and fine silver as the money! that is in your purse, or in mine, or elsewhere. I have here a powder, which will accomplish all this. It is the root of all my skill which I shall show you. Send your man away, so that he should not spy upon us while we work in alchemy."
I have a powder here that cost the earth
And it will make all good, for it's the basis
Of all my power – I'll show you – in these cases.
Send your man off, tell him to wait outside,
And shut the door on him. I won't be spied
Upon at work, for no one else must see
The way we set to work in alchemy.
He gave his orders and the thing was done
The servant was sent packing at a run,
The chamber door was bolted with a jerk
And these philosophers 'got down to work.
The priest then set the vessel on the fire and blew the fire, working very busily, and the canon threw a powder into the crucible white wasn't worth a fly but deceived the priest. Then the canon toile me priest to place a bed of coals above the crucible with his own hands. The canon said, "In what we're going to do, I'll leave the handling of it all to you." "Oh, thank you!" said the priest, who was delighted And couched the coals just as he was invited.
While he was busy, this devilish wretch, the canon, pulled a croft from inside his robe. It was a beech coal which had been carefully prepared before; a hole had been drilled in it and it was filled with an ounce of silver filings, and stoppered with blackened wax to keep the filings in.
The canon took his coal and hiding it in his hand, said, "Friend, you're doing the work wrong, this is not as it should be; let me mend it. You are very hot, I can see you sweat. Here, take this cloth and wipe your face. While the priest was wiping his face, the canon placed his coal in the middle of the coals above the crucible and blew the fire.
When the pot breaks, everyone scoffs and considers himself cheated. Then they all shout at one another. One says, The fire was not laid the way it should. Another says “The flames were not properly blown." That's when I'm frightened because that's my job. A third says, "You are ignorant and stupid, the metal was not properly tempered."
He that seems the wisest is the most foolish when it comes to the proof. And he that seems the most honest is a thief You should know that before I leave you.
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