The Forbidden Universe (15 page)

Upon his arrival, the King of Scotland and England asked Casaubon to work on a rebuttal of a key text of the Counter Reformation, the gargantuan multi-volume
Ecclesiatical Annals
(
Annales Ecclesiasti
) by the Catholic cardinal Caesar Baronius – a sweeping history of Christianity that set out the historical case for the primacy of the Catholic Church and the correctness of its teachings. Unsurprisingly it
articulated
the conventional view accepted by many Catholic theologians that Hermes Trismegistus was one of the pagan prophets of the coming of Christ.

Casaubon only managed to write the first of many intended volumes giving a point-by-point critique of Baronius, as he died in July 1614, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. But in that single volume he still managed to deal Hermeticism a blow that to some seemed terminal, although ironically he had intended to demolish the
Christian
tradition that accorded Hermes Trismegistus a privileged place in pagan history, rather than to attack Hermeticism itself.

Casaubon began with the observation that no ancient author – nobody, in fact, before early Christians such as Lactantius and Augustine – even so much as mentioned Hermes Trismegistus, still less cited him as the fount of all wisdom. Intrigued by this, Casaubon compared the Hermetic texts with other works to try to establish their sources. He concluded that, contrary to tradition, the writers of the Hermetica had drawn upon the works of Plato and the books of Old and New Testaments. He argued, for example, that the sections of the
Pimander
that had once been thought to prefigure the opening chapter
of John’s Gospel were themselves really based on it.

Since most European readers had used Marsilio Ficino’s Latin translation, Casaubon revisited the original Greek to analyse the language, using a printed edition that had been published in 1554. His heavily annotated copy is now in the British Museum. Discovering that the Hermetica’s Greek dated from the early centuries CE rather than from antiquity, not unnaturally he concluded that the Hermetic texts were forgeries, created early in the Christian era in order to convert pagans to Christianity by building a bridge between their respective beliefs – a kind of ecclesiastical white lie. He accepted that although there had been a real person known as Thrice-Great Hermes in the high civilisation of ancient Egypt, the Hermetica was falsely attributed to him.

The implications for Hermeticists, particularly those who followed Bruno’s extreme interpretation that Hermeticism represented the true original religion, were devastating. Their sacred books did not represent the wisdom of the ancient days of Egypt that produced the pyramids and the Great Sphinx after all. Their sacred books were no longer sacred.

For the historian Garth Fowden, Casaubon’s work is ‘the watershed between Renaissance occultism and the scientific rationalism of the new age’.
¹
Yates called the medieval and Renaissance belief in the antiquity of the
Corpus Hermeticum
‘the great Egyptian illusion’.
²
Ironically, of all illusions, this had been remarkably productive – after all, it had created the Renaissance – but it was an illusion nevertheless.

The great disillusionment, however, was not an overnight sensation. It took a while for Casaubon’s arguments to filter through, especially as they were buried in an otherwise obscure and scholarly critique of Baronius. Tommaso Campanella, for example, who continued his campaign for a Hermetic reform for another quarter of a century after
De
rebus
was published, was either unaware of it, or rejected its message. And with a huge irony, it also failed to galvanize Catholic Europe. If the Church’s scholars even bothered to read Casaubon, they preferred to side with Baronius and retain their traditional view of Hermes. As we will see, it took ten years for Casaubon’s discovery to be used against Hermeticists, and a full half a century to become widely known and accepted.

Despite this blow, Hermeticists often argued that if the philosophy worked, its age and provenance were pretty much irrelevant. Particularly in England, some argued that while the texts themselves might be later than had been thought, the philosophy and cosmology that they contained were much more ancient, having been passed down throughout the centuries before being committed to writing. Perhaps along the way they had absorbed ideas from other philosophies, such as Plato’s, but they still retained the essential beliefs of the Egyptians – a reconstruction that fits perfectly with recent findings. In fact, there were some glaring flaws in Casaubon’s line of argument, which were recognized in his day and have become more apparent with the passage of time. Although we will deal with this more fully in a later chapter, suffice it to say here that modern discoveries show that Egyptian thinking was indisputably a major influence on the Hermetica. In addition, Casaubon’s key argument that New Testament books such as John’s Gospel had a direct influence on the Hermetica was refuted long ago. Whatever the Hermetic texts are, they are emphatically not Christian forgeries.

What was lost as a result of Casaubon’s book, though, was the underlying belief, whipped up by Bruno, that the great reform would mark a return to the most ancient religion of all, the
prisca theologia
. Even so, the zeal to reform did not simply disappear, instead it found a new mode of expression. Indeed, in the years immediately following the
execution of Bruno and incarceration of Campanella, the reforming spirit was already being repackaged with the aid of another major 1614 publication. And this was to cause high anxiety and even paranoia among Catholics for many years, and is still the subject of many conspiracy theories, hotly debated to this day.

The second book of 1614 had a much more immediate impact than Casaubon’s
De rebus
, one that has never really faded away. This was the appearance of the first of what became known as the ‘Rosicrucian manifestos’, which represented a key development of the reforming side of the Hermetic and esoteric tradition and launched a new and enduringly evocative term. The first of the two manifestos was
Fama Fraternitatis
(
Fame of the Fraternity
), or,
Discovery of the Order of the Rosicrucians
(
Fama Fraternitatis, dess Löblichen Orden des Rosenkreutzes
), usually known simply as the
Fama
. Written in German, it was published in Hesse-Cassel in Germany, but according to contemporary references had been circulating in manuscript for at least four years prior to being printed.

If ever a book caused a sensation among German philosophical circles, this was it. But the furore had barely subsided when just a year later its sequel appeared.
Confession of the Fraternity R.C. to the Learned of Europe
(
Confessio Fraternitas R.C., ad eruditos Europae
) – usually referred as the
Confessio
– was this time written in Latin and was clearly aimed at a more scholarly audience.

The manifestos announced the existence of a secret order, the Fraternity of the Rose Cross, and invited those who shared its ideals and aims to join. The
Fama
momentously declared that ‘Europe is with child’, trembling on the brink of a golden age. Great discoveries by recent generations had expanded mankind’s knowledge of the world, the universe
and nature, and had also ushered in a new appreciation of the magnificence and potential of humankind. In the words of the 1652 English translation:

This could have been Pico della Mirandola speaking, 130 years before.

The manifestos, however, went on to warn that the forces of popery and a rigid and outmoded scholarship were obstacles strewn in the path of the coming age.

Tantalizingly, the manifestos named no author, although the writer of a third work two years later, clearly continuing the theme, did eventually identify himself. This was entitled
The Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz in the Year 1459
(
Chymische Hochzeit Christiani Rosencreutz anno 1459
). Although published anonymously, a Lutheran cleric and writer, Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654), claimed authorship in his autobiography. As he was a prolific writer of plays, allegorical stories and theological and
philosophical
essays, and the
Chemical Wedding
is clearly in his style, he was probably telling the truth. So was he also responsible for the manifestos?

Andreae certainly had a connection with the
Fama
, and almost certainly wrote at least parts of the
Confessio
while studying theology at Tübingen University. But opinions are divided about whether they are solely his works or, as is more likely, whether others were involved as well. It seems that the physician and esotericist Tobias Hess, Andreae’s close friend and mentor, provided considerable input.
Perhaps the whole idea was his. Hess died in 1614, which would explain why the
Chemical Wedding
was a solo effort executed by the younger Andreae.
⁴

The books outlined the foundation myth of the fraternity, which was, it claimed, created by ‘C. R.’ – Christian Rosenkreutz – who was supposedly born in 1378. He aimed to effect a mighty reform of the arts, sciences and religion, and intended to fix all the ‘faults of the Church’. One can safely guess that such a man and such a shadowy organization, would hardly have been music to Vatican ears. Suddenly every shadow posed a potential Rosicrucian threat, every printing press a potential bombshell.

Interestingly, the
Fama
attributes Rosenkreutz’s wisdom to his earlier studies in the Arab world, particularly in Damascus. Not only did he learn magic and the Cabala, but also observed that the scholars and wise men freely shared their knowledge – unlike snobbish and buttoned-up Europe. It was in Damascus that he conceived the idea of establishing a fraternity of scholars in emulation of the eastern style of learning when he returned home.

Rosenkreutz, however, was rebuffed when he tried to introduce his idea for a brotherhood of ‘magicians, Cabalists, physicians and philosophers’ into Europe. So, after a few years back in his native Germany, he decided to form a secret fraternity, beginning with just three followers. The order grew swiftly, devoting itself mainly to healing the sick. Christian Rosenkreutz died at the age of one hundred and six – in 1484 or 1485 – and his burial place was considered lost until a long-hidden tomb was discovered in the House of the Holy Spirit, which the order had built as its headquarters. The discovery, which was – judging from the texts’ internal chronology, in 1604 – a vault lit by an ‘inner sun’ with walls covered in geometric shapes, and which contained all kinds of wonderful instruments and devices, and the founder’s body beneath an altar was the sign that
the ‘general reformation of the world’ that Rosenkreutz anticipated was finally at hand.

The brotherhood declared itself to be Christian, but of a reformed kind, and to follow an alchemical philosophy whose focus was on transmuting base souls into divine gold. They firmly rejected the notion that their practice was ‘ungodly and accursed gold making’.
⁵
The
Confessio
declared ‘the Pope of Rome Antichrist’ in anticipation that the cooperation of the learned would overthrow His Holiness, and by implication the entire Catholic Church. The coming of the ‘light of truth’ had been heralded by new stars appearing in the constellations of Serpentarius and Cygnus in 1604, which links to the discovery of Christian Rosenkreutz’s tomb in the
Fama
. (Kepler also thought that these new stars presaged religious and political changes.)

In 1614 the
Fama
and
Confessio
caused great excitement – and unsurprisingly great hostility from those opposed to such innovations, most obviously Catholics. Tobias Churton calls them ‘one of the most virulent intellectual hurricanes ever to hit Europe’,
⁶
while referring to the Rosicrucian furore as Europe’s ‘first multi-national
conspiracy
story’.
⁷
The manifestos announced the existence of a secret, elite brotherhood, which was privy to advanced knowledge, and invited applications for membership – but gave no clue about how to do so, implying that only those capable of working it out were worthy of joining. As a result, interested men of learning started writing their own tracts and open letters to the Rosicrucians, appealing for admission. On the other side, pamphleteers denounced the fraternity as subversive and dangerous, no doubt looking over their shoulders as they did so.

As one of the most effective publicity campaigns in history, the manifestos have been a source of perplexity ever since. Was there really a secret society behind them? Or was the whole point to make people
believe
that such a
thing existed? Was it all some kind of hoax? And what was the meaning of the rose and cross symbolism, which has exercised esoteric imaginations ever since? Many
suggestions
have been made: Martin Luther’s emblem was a cross within a rose – and is reproduced in Andreae’s
Chemical Wedding
. Yates suggested it could be a combination of two alchemical terms,
ros
(dew) and
crux
(cross).
⁸
And yet the answer might be much simpler: Andreae’s coat of arms was a St Andrew’s cross surrounded by four roses.
⁹
Or perhaps the answer lies in a conflation of all three, since Andreae was a Lutheran and an alchemical influence strongly pervades the manifestos. And while subtlety might be the key to understanding the texts, many commentators over the years have erred on the side of one of the two extremes and have taken everything in the manifestos literally or dismissed them completely as a hoax or fantasy.