The Forbidden Universe: The Origins of Science and the Search for the Mind of God

by Lynn Picknett

  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:

  [God] hath raised men, imbued with great wisdom, who might partly renew and reduce all arts (in this our age spotted and imperfect) to perfection; so that finally man might thereby understand his own nobleness and worth, and why he is called Microcosmus, and how far his knowledge extendeth into Nature.3

  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.

  Andreae himself often used the term ludibrium in relation to the manifestos and the Rosicrucians in general. He also applied this term to his own Chemical Wedding. Ludibrium basically means a jest, game or a play, which given Andreae’s moonlighting activities as a playwright, and his love of the theatre – he particularly admired English drama – probably best describes his intentions. While not literally true, the manifestos were, in Churton’s words, ‘a dramatic joke with serious intent’.10 This description calls to mind other similar manifestations, including the relentless social sarcasm of Charles Dickens’ comic scenes, the steely undercurrent of today’s political satire or, as we claim elsewhere, the subtext behind Leonardo’s ‘Holy Shroud’ of Turin, which we also describe as a commedia, or serious joke.

  Disappointingly, the story of the great Christian Rosenkreutz in his strangely lit entombment and the origins of his Fraternity are certainly not factually true. After examining Andreae’s later voluminous writings, Tobias Churton proposes that the manifestos are an allegorical account of the transmission of the philosophy that Rosicrucianism continues. Originating in the Middle East, it was preserved in the Arab world before entering Europe via Spain (the Fama d
escribes ‘C.R.’ returning from Arab lands through Spain). But as Andreae decries in other writings, after a promising start that tradition came to a shuddering halt when the brotherhood had to go underground. Now the time was right for it to re-emerge, heralding the coming of a new world fit for heroes.

  In the same way that the writers of utopian works, which Rosicrucian were very much in vogue at the time (for example Campanella’s City of the Sun), hoped to inspire people to attempt to achieve their perfect society, the Rosicrucian manifestos aimed to provoke readers into banding together to create a learned philosophical brotherhood based on the principles they described. Inviting membership was one method to achieve this. By bringing fellow travellers into the open, they could then begin to build their own utopia, completing a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  But was there a secret society behind the tracts? Although this question is harder to answer, clearly the publications were part of a campaign organized by a group of like-minded individuals, who we can legitimately call Rosicrucians, if only for want of a better term. As we will see, there is a suggestion that this group called itself ‘Antilia’.

  However, in answering the above question, let us also not forget about one group in particular. Experienced in operating underground and passionately dedicated to creating a brave new world from its heartland in Lutheran Germany, Bruno’s Giordanisti, formed a quarter of a century before, certainly presents itself as a potential candidate for the secret society behind the manifestos. As we will see, there were specific connections between Andreae’s circle and the Italian radical Hermeticists connected with Bruno and Campanella, and the Giordanisti would be a natural conduit between the two.

  HERMETICISM REPACKAGED

  The underlying esoteric philosophy contained in the manifestos was the Renaissance occult philosophy, which as we have seen had Hermeticism at its core. It also highlighted another tradition that had yet to feature prominently in the Hermetic revival: alchemy. A word derived from ‘Al Khem’, the ancient Egyptian word for their country, ‘alchemy’ is also the root of the modern word ‘chemistry’. Despite being derived from Hermetic principles – essentially their application in the field of chemistry – alchemy had yet to become a major part of occult philosophy, coming into Rosicrucianism through the works of the early sixteenth century physician and esotericist Paracelsus.11 This is especially fitting given that the Rose Cross’ main concern was always healing.

  Another Hermetic giant whose philosophy heavily influenced the manifestos was John Dee. His masterwork, The Hieroglyphic Monad (Monas hieroglyphica, 1564), presented a new symbol, derived from astrological and other magical glyphs, which he believed embodied the secrets of the cosmos. The significance of Dee’s arcane treatise can be deduced fromthe fact that it was the basis of the Latin tract A Brief Consideration of a More Secret Philosophy (Secretioris philosophiae consideratio brevis) that prefaced the Rosicrucian Confessio. Attributed to Philip à Gabella, who was almost certainly fictitious – his surname probably a reference to the Cabala – it presents explanations, complete with handy diagrams, which shed some light on Dee’s distinctly abstruse work. The clear suggestion is that the ‘more secret philosophy’ behind that penned by the Rosicrucians is Dee’s, whose importance to the movement is underscored by the fact that Andreae’s Chemical Wedding is decorated with his monas hieroglyphica symbol.

  The legacy of the great English Hermeticist was obviously hugely important to the shadowy occultists behind the Rosicrucian manifestos. This is perhaps not only true in the world of magic, for Dee was a friend of Elizabeth I, besides being her astrologer, spymaster (whose codename was 007) and a major figure behind the explosive expansion of the emerging English Empire. His was a very useful name.

  Andreae was a deeply committed Christian – the motto ascribed to the Fraternity of the Rose Cross, and used elsewhere in Andreae’s writing, is Jesus mihil omnia, ‘Jesus above all’. However, in Tobias Churton’s words, ‘There are clearly many elements of Andreae’s thought – not counting his early and fecund immersion in the world of alchemy – which are clearly of Hermetic provenance.’12 In one of his later works, Andreae praised Pico della Mirandola for being one of the pioneers of the philosophy and spirit that he wanted to see more of, besides lamenting its decline in his own day.

  The Hermetic basis of Rosicrucianism can be seen in the works of two major devotees, one English and the other German, who both recognized Rosicrucianism as a development of Hermeticism.

  The English physician Robert Fludd (1574–1637) was a major intellect of the period, and like any good Renaissance man was passionately devoted to the pursuit of all knowledge. His work was heavily influenced by – really, a continuation of – that of Pico, Ficino and Agrippa, and he quotes constantly from the Corpus Hermeticum and Asclepius. There are resonances with Bruno’s works that indicate Fludd was familiar with them, although he never mentions the Hermetic martyr directly.

  It would be surprising if Fludd had not studied Bruno, since he was a great exponent of the magical art of memory for which Bruno was most famous. In Fludd’s version, the basic ‘memory buildings’, the interior of which the practitioner holds in his or her imagination, mentally placing talismanic images at specific points within them, are conceptualized as theatres. And, it seems, the theatre on which Fludd based his system was none other than Shakespeare’s legendary Globe, highlighting the theatrical and dramatic undercurrents that run throughout this story.13

  Fludd attempted to attract the interest of the Rosicrucians by publishing, in 1616 and 1617, two books on the subject defending them from attack. In both he elucidates his belief that the works of ‘Mercurius Trismegistus’ are the supreme source of the tradition of ancient wisdom of which he himself and the Rosicrucians were a proud part. He was also a devout Anglican, again showing that Christian piety was considered utterly compatible with the arcane.

  Later, in 1633, Fludd was to write that the name of the Brothers of the Rose Cross is ‘so odious to contemporaries that it is already buried away from the memory of man’.14 While some see this statement as repudiation in all but name, the reality is very different. Fludd was actually explaining why the brotherhood changed its name to ‘the Wise’. As we will see, by the time Fludd wrote this, the Rose Cross had endured attacks that had given it a dark reputation.

  Michael Maier (1568–1622) was a very similar figure to Fludd. A respectable physician and committed Lutheran, he was also a distinguished alchemist. For a time he was also doctor and counsellor to the great esoteric patron Emperor Rudolph II, to whom he dedicated a study of Hermes Trismegistus. From 1611 Maier also spent five years at James I’s court in London. Long after his death, his work came to influence the genius that was Isaac Newton. But once again, as Maier was a likely candidate for the Giordanisti, we find the shadow of Bruno towering in the background.

  Both Fludd and Maier were dyed-in-the-wool Hermeticists, basing their work firmly on the Hermetic philosophy. This is particularly significant given that they seem to have dismissed Isaac Casaubon’s damning historical critique, despite undoubtedly being aware of it. Both moved in the same English intellectual circles as Casaubon, and Maier was even at James I’s court when he published his book at the King’s instigation.

  When we look more closely at the traditions behind the manifestos, and their direct connections with the Hermetic reform movement, it becomes very obvious that Rosicrucianism was a repackaging of the not-very-secret agenda of Bruno and Campanella.

  The essential message of the manifestos was that a new reformation was needed. And the increasingly chaotic world in which the manifestos emerged certainly showed that change was needed. The Protestant reformation was failing externally through Catholic pressure as well as through internal division. The Counter Reformation that spawned the likes of the Jesuits was causing great havoc and threatening to take Europe back into the Dark Ages. The situation was slipping out of Protestant control.

  The Rosicrucians sought a return to primi
tive, unadorned and non-popish Christianity, blended with unashamed mysticism and shot through with a kind of spiritualism. They advocated a form of shamanism or mediumship, by which practical and magical information was communicated from the spiritual dimension. Overlying all this, however, was the drive towards self-transformation through alchemy of the body and soul. All things would be possible to the initiate, who was radiant with Christ’s love and power and would stride forth into transcendence as a human god. This was the ultimate glittering prize and its seekers would do everything in their power to see that they remained in the race to win it.

  It is surely beyond coincidence that the Rosicrucians should emerge in the same circles and espouse the same principles as the Giordanisti that Bruno founded in Germany in the late 1580s and early 1590s, little more than a decade before his death. But there were more direct connections between the Rosicrucians and the Italian side of the Hermetic reform movement. The Fama was bound with a German translation of a chapter from the Venetian Traiano Boccalini’s News from Parnassus, which had appeared two years earlier, calling for, in the words of the Fama, a ‘general reformation of the whole wide world’. We recall that unsurprisingly the Bruno-inspired Boccalini was an enthusiastic member of Galileo’s intellectual circle. This pairing of books links the German Rosicrucian current with ‘secret, mystical, philosophical and anti-Hapsburg currents of Italian origin’.15 As if to remove all doubt of this connection, Andreae defends Boccalini in his Three Books of Christian Mythology (Mythologiae Christianae Libri tres, 1618).

  The conclusive link, however, is found in the two German disciples who visited Tommaso Campanella in prison in Naples and got his books published in Frankfurt. Tobias Adami and Wilhelm Wense were Andreae’s close friends and members of the Societas Christiana that he founded in or around 1618. This society embodied the same spirit and principles advocated by the manifestos – religious reform based on the Christian principle of ‘love thy neighbour’, and the use of scientific enquiry to improve the human condition – but in a more overt and less esoteric way. It was to be the first of a network of Christian Unions, which Adami proposed should be called the City of the Sun, explicitly based on Campanella’s as-yet unpublished work of the same name (which Adami finally managed to get published in 1623).16 City of the Sun was also notably a strong influence on Andreae’s utopian Christianopolis (1619).