He tried me on another occasion, and then gave me up. I was
clearly not a "sensitive."
Sir Charles had quite a library of occult books, from which I
endeavoured to glean a little knowledge, and great rubbish most of
them were. Raymond Lully, Basil Valentine, Paracelsus, and Van
Helmont; they were all there, in French, German, Latin, and
English. The Alchemists had two obsessions: one was the discovery
of the Elixir of Life, by the aid of which you could live forever;
the other that of the Philosopher's Stone, which had the property
of transmuting everything it touched into gold. Like practical
men, they seemed to have concentrated their energies more
especially on the latter, for a moment's consideration will show
the exceedingly awkward predicament in which any one would be
placed with only the first of these conveniences at his command.
Should he by the aid of the Elixir of Life have managed to attain
the age of, say, 300 years, he might find it excessively hard to
obtain any remunerative employment at that time of life; whereas
with the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket, he would only have to
touch the door-scraper outside his house to find it immediately
transmuted into the purest gold.
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