Introduction

The alchemical literature which flourished in England during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was characterized by many texts which focussed mainly on the transmutation of base metals into gold. The idea that the ‘elixir’ or ‘philosophers’ stone’ (Lapis philosophorum) was not merely a recipe for the soul’s salvation,Footnote 1 or a means to long life, but also a substance able to transform metals, was particularly attractive to practitioners more interested in the utilitarian aspect of the alchemical process than in its speculative philosophy.Footnote 2 Alchemy thus began to be practised in a context that detracted from its initial character as a general philosophy of nature and diverted it from the purpose for which it was originally intended.Footnote 3 An art which was highly regarded by the early alchemists and kept in complete secrecy became an activity for the creation of essences, tinctures and precious metals.Footnote 4 Many alchemists began to make claims about their ability to produce gold and silver through transmutation.Footnote 5

The result was a rise in the production of alchemical texts, including practical recipes focussed on laboratory experiments and composed in poetic form. As Gebrauchstexte, they are mostly anonymous either because copyists and users were more interested in the content than in passing on the authors’ names or because the authors themselves chose to remain anonymous. These poems survived in various copies for centuries until the alchemical arts declined in the early eighteenth century.Footnote 6

We do not know why many authors of alchemical texts chose to communicate their ideas and concepts in poetry. They do not explain what motivated this decision in their works. Several factors, however, could have contributed to their extensive use of the poetic form. Like most medieval scientific poetry, it is thought to be modelled on Latin didactic poetry of the classical period.Footnote 7 Poetic language—characterized by stylistic and rhetorical figures such as metaphors, symbols and mythological references—was also more suited to the enigmatic nature of alchemical science.Footnote 8 Moreover, poetry was considered a very useful means to make it easier to memorize the experimental phases of alchemy and to learn the concepts and the names of laboratory instruments.Footnote 9 Because of poetry’s metrical rules, it was more stable than prose, a feature which would have encouraged many alchemists to adopt it in contexts such as workshops, where learning was mainly based on oral explanation. On the other hand, the need to show the stages of alchemical experiments to apprentices, who were often barely literate, and the practice of alchemy by people such as craftsmen who did not know Latin caused an intensified use of spoken language. These circumstances led to the gradual neglect of Latin and, in turn, a large-scale adoption of the vernacular.Footnote 10 As a result, from the fourteenth century onwards, a rich English-language alchemical poetry emerged in England and served as a model for many other alchemists on the Continent.Footnote 11

The most striking feature which emerges from the analysis of alchemical poems is the adoption of a deliberately mysterious and often archaic language derived from the long tradition of erudite alchemical treatises. During the transmission of these texts, the extensive use of figurative terminology, which was made up of cover names, or Decknamen, and allegorical and symbolic language, facilitated personalized rewriting. Practitioners interpreted alchemical texts according to their own experience, context and experimental needs, which resulted in modifications of the processes, often by adding new ones, and in the coinage of a new and unusual lexicon.Footnote 12 The metaphorical nature and the fluidity of alchemical language implied that each copy represented a personal reinterpretation.Footnote 13 This tendency made alchemical material, which was already obscure in itself, often incoherent and exposed to contamination; but, at the same time, it produced flexibility and richness of content.Footnote 14 In the process of adaptation to the vernacular some particularly relevant terms were subjected to this process of lexical revision.Footnote 15 This is the case for the expression ‘water of mercury’, which was referred to by several metaphorical names that gave rise to various interpretations over the course of time.

This study will highlight the strategy used to render the concept of ‘water of mercury’ in some fifteenth-century Middle English recipes for the creation of the elixir. The author of these recipes decided to use an element derived from Germanic mythology, relying on the fact that its original semantic implication would not be understood by users unfamiliar with an ancient tradition which had almost completely been forgotten.

‘Mercury’ and the ‘Water of Mercury’ in the Pseudo-Lullian Corpus

Medieval English alchemy was mainly characterized by the attempt to prepare an elixir that could perfect all matter, transforming base metals into gold and silver, making plants develop more rapidly and abundantly, and bestowing health and long life on human bodies. From the fourteenth century onwards, however, alchemical research mainly focussed on the transmutation of metals and produced a large number of treatises, the most influential of which were the so-called Pseudo-Lullian texts. This corpus was made up of alchemical treatises attributed to the Catalan philosopher and theologian Raymond Lull, who lived between c. 1232 and c. 1316.Footnote 16 The earliest text of the veritable library of alchemy circulating under Lull’s name is the Testamentum, whose contents are a synthesis of metallurgical and medical alchemy and distilling practices which had become widespread during the thirteenth century. Composed in Latin around 1330, it addresses various problems concerning alchemy, its transmutational power and its inclusion within the domain of learned theoretical knowledge. In this text, alchemy is defined as an ‘art’ inaccessible to most people, belonging to natural philosophy and ranging from transmutation into ‘true gold and silver’ and the creation of precious gemstones to medicinal powers.Footnote 17 Pseudo-Lull speaks of a liquid, humidum radicale or humidum mercuriale, that has both a heuristic function, as a theoretical means by which to interpret nature and its deepest principles, and a real entity, as a concrete and materially manageable ingredient in the alchemist’s operative procedures.Footnote 18 The Testamentum is centred on the universal stone and its derivation from two mercuries: a mineral mercury, of metallic origin, and a vegetable mercury, of undefined origin. The mineral mercury is an essential substance extracted from gold and silver (sol and luna in alchemical metaphorical language) using a mysterious and powerful solvent (menstruum)Footnote 19 or aqua vitae called ‘water of the green lion’, a cover name frequently used in alchemyFootnote 20:

So, we name the ends of our stone ... on the first side is the water of the green lion fixed with metal. And on the second is the stone that was created. And in the middle of them are the sun (sol) and the moon (luna), from which our quicksilver derives, which is the liquefied, melted and rotted corpse, from which the stone was created, when it was cleansed of its original imperfections.Footnote 21

Chemical processes could also produce this solvent by mixing, dissolving and sublimating quicksilver with vitriol and saltpetre:

B denotes argent vive, which is a common substance existing in all corruptible bodies … .C denotes saltpetre … . D denotes vitriol azoqueus … . And then E denotes the menstruum which combines the three previously mentioned natures in one … and G denotes mercury, which you know.Footnote 22

The true meaning of the nomenclature used for these ingredients in the Testamentum remains indecipherable. It is unclear whether the author intended to indicate common substances or whether the quicksilver in this recipe was the essential mercury derived from lead. What further complicates the interpretation of these passages is the introduction of an additional ingredient with a vegetative capacity identified by the letter G. This vegetable mercury labelled ‘G’, ‘quem scis’ (‘which you know’), must have been an element so secret that it could not be named openly and that had the vegetative power to make other metals grow. We can therefore deduce that the use of chemical elements was an alternative to accelerate the sublimation process.Footnote 23

The reference to a vegetative mercury paved the way for new interpretations by readers of Pseudo-Lull. The development of medical theories in the fourteenth century led to the identification of wine distillate as a variant of vegetable mercury.Footnote 24 This new ingredient was used, along with mineral mercury, as a solvent in the alchemical process to create gold and silver.Footnote 25 The procedure, which became widespread mainly in the following century, involved using the unidentified entity ‘sericon’, a Deckname indicating a metallic body. Dissolved in wine vinegar, it produced a gummy substance that was used to make a potent elixir. It was a vegetable stone that, unlike mineral mercury, was edible and was thought to cure disease and prolong life.Footnote 26 Despite the spread of new experiments by vegetative mercurialists, many more Pseudo-Lullian readers were interested in using metallic mercury to produce gold. The political instability and economic difficulties that England experienced in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries led to a great need for gold and, as a consequence, an extraordinary period of development in English alchemical practice to obtain it.Footnote 27 Many texts were written at this time, some of which were linked to the name of the famous alchemist George Ripley, whose writings are commentaries on Pseudo-Lullian alchemy.Footnote 28 His works, The Compound of Alchemy and the Medulla (especially its English translation, Marrow of Alchemy), constituted the most influential and frequently mentioned treatises in later centuries.

Dealing with the manufacture of the mineral stone, Ripley, too, introduced a special water that was useful for making the elixir. He stated that it was a water drawn from a menstruum composed of four elements, and he defined it as ‘fire against nature’, ‘the strongest water of the world’ and ‘mortal’.Footnote 29

In his effort to explain and to reconcile some of the apparent discrepancies in the Pseudo-Lullian corpus, Ripley transformed and renovated its principles, contributing to its dissemination among a plethora of practitioners mostly involved in chrysopoeia, that is, the artificial production of gold. This intense interest in alchemy generated a rich body of works written not only by clerics but also by craftsmen and merchants, who privileged the practical content of this erudite alchemical literature.Footnote 30

‘Water of Mercury’ in the Middle English Verses upon the Elixir

A group of texts consisting of anonymous recipes for the creation of the philosophers’ stone has been identified within Middle English alchemical works.Footnote 31 They were apparently elaborated in the context of the workshop and seem to be mostly part of the Pseudo-Lullian tradition and its derivatives, notably the works of Ripley. Despite textual variants, these texts share a set of contents about the transmutation of base metals into gold. Their notions and alchemical procedures reveal a common and popular practical tradition which developed in England during the fifteenth century.

The texts which I have selected for the present study are the two versions (A and B) of the rhymed poem Verses upon the Elixir, the rhymed poem Exposition and the late Latin prose version Terra terrae philosophicae, in which a particular expression for ‘water of mercury’ appears.Footnote 32

Verses upon the Elixir is an anonymous Middle English poem composed in the mid-fifteenth century.Footnote 33 It is preserved in thirty complete manuscripts and several fragments, making it one of the most widely reproduced late medieval alchemical poems.Footnote 34 It is a mixture of two literary traditions: the concise and practical prose recipes often found in the margins of medieval notebooks and the alchemical allegorical writings.

It plays a prominent role not only in the group of texts under investigation but also in the context of all Middle English alchemical poetry, as it shares common material with many other alchemical works of the period. The poem has come down to us in three variants: A in 105 lines, and B1 and B2 in 194 lines.Footnote 35 Version B1 includes theoretical and religious additions, names of natural and chemical substances, and explanations of the alchemical process. It also includes sections derived from another poetic text belonging to the same group, Boast of Mercury (ll. 69–76).Footnote 36 It seems that version B contains more didactic-theoretical features, while A has a more practical nature.

In terms of content, the poem describes the stages, the duration of the operations and the ingredients for producing the philosophers’ stone, dividing the whole work into six phases. First, it explains the procedure for isolating the elements of earth, water and fire by dissolving them in a special water. The next phase is the formation of a gum by means of evaporation. Then comes the phase in which aqua vitae is distilled to produce black, dry earth (nigredo), which is bathed in the same water until it turns white (albedo).

A red substance (rubedo) is then produced by heat, which, when further imbibed, that is, when the water is absorbed, produces the stone (ll. 1–38). This first operative part of the poem is followed by a second alchemical-philosophical section explaining the importance of the four elements, of the ‘sperm’ as the principle of all living beings and of the special water that makes the alchemical ‘marriage’ possible (ll. 39–54).Footnote 37 The third part (ll. 55–68) proposes another recipe for the philosophers’ stone, but with more rapid processes and with the aid of substances such as arsenic, mercury and aqua fortis. These procedures are followed by fixation, whereby the substance is transformed into a form unaffected by fire, and then imbibition, or absorption of the water. The stone obtained in this way can be used to transform copper and lead into gold and silver respectively, in a weight ratio of 1:40. The fourth part (ll. 69–81) describes the aqua perfectissima that softens and fixes metals. The fifth (ll. 82–99) describes this water’s qualities, which make everything white and brilliant, and concludes, once more, with the cycle of transformation from nigredo to rubedo. The last section gives instructions for using the resulting oil to convert mercury into gold.

Exposition is composed of 68 lines and begins with an incipit that explains the distinctiveness and secrecy of the transmutation recipe, followed by a list of key names. Its conclusion focuses on the making of the philosophers’ stone, but it is accompanied by appeals to God as the true creative force of all natural things. This text underwent alterations that, unlike those in the Verses, consist mainly of variations in the position of words and lines and that contain no additions or omissions.

The Neo-Latin cultural movement which developed during the sixteenth century and the efforts to preserve the previous scientific and literary heritage in print encouraged interest in earlier practical alchemical recipes. This evolution led some authors to revise the texts belonging to this group, stimulating the production of interpretative notes, commentaries, ancillary writings and Latin translations. Terra terrae philosophicae, the oldest manuscript of which is Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 1485, dating from the sixteenth century, is part of this extensive work of revision. It consists of a Latin prose translation of the poem Verses upon Elixir combined with additions from the poems Exposition and Wind and Water.Footnote 38 It was initially attributed to Ripley and consequently circulated together with his works.Footnote 39

The text was widely reproduced and was also translated into German and French. With respect to the development of the works around the Verses upon the Elixir, it represents the final and most divergent version in terms of content. Indeed, it is preserved in some manuscripts along with texts not strictly related to alchemical experiments.

Regarding the transmutational process for creating the elixir, the two versions of Verses upon the Elixir and Exposition reflect a long tradition based on Pseudo-Lullian treatises; however, they replicate the experiments to create the elixir in a more simplified, condensed and cryptic way. They share the same content but differ from each other in additions or omissions that reveal the personal approach of each composer-copyist. For this analysis, I have considered only the first stages of the alchemical process described in lines 1–9 of Verses A and B1Footnote 40 and in Exposition. They concern the dissolution of the earth by using a mysterious and powerful solvent or special water. The solvent or ‘water of mercury’ obtained by this process is called ‘water of the Wode’ (Verses A, l. 8); ‘water of the Wood’ (B, l. 8) and ‘water of Wode’ (Exposition, l. 6)Footnote 41:

Verses A

Verses B

Exposition

Take erth of erth erthes broder

Water and erth it is non other

And fire of therth that berith the price

And of that erth loke thou be wise

The true elixir if ye list to make

Erth out of erth loke that ye take.

pure subtill faire and good

And do it with water of theWode

ffor in it therth dissoluyd must be

Take earth of earth earthes brother

& water of earth, that is no other

& fire of earth that beareth ye price

& of the earth looke thow be wise

This is ye true Elixer for to make

earth out of earth looke that thou take

pure subtill right faire & good

& then take ye water of the wood

Cleere as Cristall shineing bright

Nowe of this matter to you most clere

An exposicon I do make here

Wheryn I charge you secrete to be

That frynde ne foo do it se

Erth is withyn most fyne

Water ofWode aysell of wyne

ffor the moist of the grape who can it take

And sericon don our maistry make

But nowe be ware that ye not fayle

In the Latin prose translation, Terra terrae philosophicae, the formula ‘water of Wode’ in these poems is translated as aqua nemoris (‘water of the wood’):

Accipe terram de terra et fratrem terrae

quae non aliud est quam Aqua et terra, et ignis de terra pretiocissima

Atque in hac terra eligenda fac vt sis prudens.

Si ergo verum Elixir facere desideras

vide vt de terra illa extrahas,

ex terra videlicet pulchra subtili et bona.

Hanc aqua nemoris imbue,

nam in hac aqua terra dissoluenda est

per tres dies idque sine igne.

Aqua nemoris est Acetum vini quisquis potest illud

ex humiditate vuarum extrahere potest etiam

cum eo magisterium nostrum perficere. (ll. 1–9 and 91–3)

But can this water be derived from the wood, as stated in this translation? Can it therefore be found in nature? The Latin alchemical treatises do not describe this water as an ordinary fluid but instead as the transforming substance par excellence. Its exceptional qualities constitute the essence of the whole alchemical doctrine. In medieval alchemy, mercury, which all adepts mention, is the prima materia of the Opus, the principal agent to which matter itself is subject, while it is indestructible. This prima materia is a miraculous substance with many contradictory features: it is the destroying and dissolving force of matter, but it is also the agent of the marriage between of the opposites, sun and moon, from which the most durable element in the world originates: the philosophers’ stone.

In addition to the Pseudo-Lullian corpus, references to the water of mercury can be found in other important alchemical texts. The author of De anima uses the name mercurius to define a liquid with a double essence, both living gold and extraordinary ‘water’, which must not be confused with the water found in nature.Footnote 42 The Pseudo-Arnald text Rosarium philosophorum treats this ‘aqua nostra, ipse namque est sperma’, or aqua permanens, as the medium by which all the processes of the Opus can be accomplished.Footnote 43

All this evidence points to the fact that whatever procedures, recipes, philosophical–theoretical or practical perspectives enhanced and enriched alchemical literature throughout the centuries, mercury remained constantly the essential ingredient; and the special water derived from it, the ‘water of mercury’, was the core of the whole work.Footnote 44 Without this solution or water, alchemical work could not be performed.

This is specified further in the two versions of the Verses under consideration here, where this ‘water of Wode’ appears to be the artificer of the alchemical marriage:

Verses A

Verses B

But a Sperme out of a body take

Wheryn is all sol lune and light

Water and erth fire and fright

And all comyth out of on ymage

but water of the wode makith the marriage

(ll. 50–54)

But a Sperme out of a body I take

in which is Sol Luna life & light

water & earth fire & fright

all cometh but of one Image

but ye water of ye wood maketh ye marriage

(ll. 82–6)

Finally, there is another element which leads to the conclusion that ‘water of Wode’ is a Deckname. In Exposition, this expression is followed by the technical terms ‘aysell of wyne’ and ‘sericon’. In contrast to the Verses, the author of Exposition enriched his material by adding references to this new alchemical approach in producing the philosophers’ stone. Since he was aware that this was an esoteric subject, he began his text by presenting the prime matters by their code names. Therefore, if he included ‘Water of Wode’ in this list, along with ‘sericon’, it was because he perceived it as a Deckname.Footnote 45

If we, therefore, consider it to be a special water, we can suppose that the original author of the Verses needed to name it with a symbolic and figurative term in order to confer on it the highest degree of secrecy. As noted above, during the fifteenth century, composers and copyists who translated Arabic, Greek and Latin alchemical terminology into Middle English often employed new coinages to preserve its mysterious character, contributing to the enrichment of Middle English technical and scientific vocabulary.Footnote 46Verses upon the Elixir can therefore be seen in the framework of this phenomenon. In interpreting the notion of ‘water of mercury’, the author tried to preserve its secret and cryptic nature. Given the importance of mercury, he wanted to find another, more enigmatic term to replace it. In doing so, he probably looked to another tradition of alchemical texts.

The God Mercury in Alchemical Texts and in the Verses upon the Elixir

The symbolic and metaphorical nature of alchemical matter, intricately related to metallurgy, inspired the use of myths about metals, their genesis and their presiding gods, which were adopted in all alchemical traditions since ancient times. In medieval Western alchemy, which was deeply indebted to Greco-Roman alchemical lore, in which metals were often connected to their namesake planet and the related god,Footnote 47 the practice of substituting planetary names for metals (gold/sol, silver/luna, quicksilver/mercurius), continued and produced other variants of cover names which alchemists could employ.Footnote 48 Alchemical symbolism made extensive use of emblems derived from these affinities or similarities. Thus, with its brilliance, the sun was associated with gold and the moon, with its light, was equated with silver. At the beginning of the development of medieval alchemy, the primary mode of representation for these symbols remained linguistic; but from the fourteenth and especially fifteenth century onwards, manuscripts were also enriched with illustrations. Alchemical iconography had important meanings to describe the symbolism associated with the various principles, elements and/or processes of the discipline and was also probably used as a mnemonic device. The symbol of quicksilver (mercury), a circle over a cross, was the same as that of the planet mercury which descended from the caduceus of the god Mercury.Footnote 49 The depiction of mercury as a deity developed in late medieval alchemical manuscripts. Until the end of fifteenth century, the images do not portray the god in his usual anthropomorphic guise, but rather allow his tutelary and symbolic presence to emerge through the depiction of his emblems: the wings, the snakes and the planet symbol.Footnote 50 In all the different contexts, Mercury continued to be the most important crux of alchemical symbolism. The god represented the volatile part of elements and, at the same time, through a highly gendered language, he symbolized the union of opposites from which the alchemical hermaphrodite originated.

The complex mixture of different traditions concerning alchemical mercury may have inspired the author of the Verses to devise a personal interpretation. In rendering ‘water of mercury’ cryptically, he used the image of the Roman god Mercury and replaced him with the god Wodan/Odin of Germanic lore. Thus, he resorted to a remote interpretation that equated the two gods according to their common attributes and that probably was still known to the Anglo-Saxons of that period.Footnote 51 Knowledge of the god Wodan is attested well after the Norman Conquest of 1066. In the twelfth century, the Anglo-Norman poet Robert Wace wrote in his Roman de Bruce:

Maïs sur tuz altres enorum

Maïsmement Mercurium,

Ki en nostre language ad nun

Woden, par grant religiun. (ll. 6777-80).Footnote 52

In certain twelfth-century documents, the lineage of Anglo-Saxon royalty was often traced back to this god, who was depicted with a crown as an ancestral king.Footnote 53 In the fourteenth century, some chronicles still refer to the identification of Mercury with Wodan:

Bot ouer alle we wirschip mest,

Mercurius & hold his fest.

Mercuri is on our langage

Woden, lord is our vsage (ll. 7263–66)Footnote 54

Þat holdeþ up þen world · & in mercurius mest ywis.

Þe heye go[d] þat in vre tonge woden icluped is (ll. 2429–30).Footnote 55

Thus, it seems that in the late Middle Ages, the comparison between Mercury and Wodan was not completely forgotten and was perhaps supported by the etymology of Wednesday. We do not know whether the author of the Verses recognized the underlying principles and prerogatives for the equivalence of the two gods. Still, if we assume that he was aware of that the two names were equivalent, then the formula ‘water of (the god) Wode’ as a translation of ‘water of (the god) Mercury’ makes more sense in the context of the alchemical recipe than ‘water of the wood’.Footnote 56

The difficulty in interpreting this expression is evident in the analysis of the textual variants found in the other manuscripts of both the A and B versions.Footnote 57 They reveal the complications faced by interpreters in rendering a term which they perceived as abstruse and cryptic. They therefore had two possible choices: either to replace the word with another expression, ‘water of them’,Footnote 58 where the pronoun recalls the two alchemical elements combined in the water of mercury, or to formulate the phrase ‘water that is so wood’,Footnote 59 referring to another homograph present in the Middle English lexicon: the adjective wode/woden, meaning ‘insane, mad, furious’.

The use of the word wode may also have been encouraged by alliterative needs. The repetition of the initial sound w- demonstrates a propensity to employ a stylistic device that had its greatest revival in England during the fourteenth century and often involved the extensive use of archaic words. The author of the Verses did not make systematic use of alliteration but was probably influenced by a traditional poetic background which sometimes emerged accidentally.Footnote 60 Examples can be found in the following couplets: ‘Then fede it forth as ye shuld do /With mylk and mete that longith therto’ (version A, ll. 31–2); ‘Then take thou meate & milke thereto/& feede ye child as thou shouldst doe’ (version B, ll. 49–50) and ‘All werkes this water makyth white and light’ (version A, v. 82); ‘for all workes this water maketh white’ (version B, v. 157), where we find a series of assonances along with the rhyme. This choice, however, was not always accepted by later copyists, who sometimes preferred to replace the alliterative word with another term that had a different meaning, thus generating a variation of semantic content.Footnote 61

Conclusions

The tendency to employ metaphorical expressions and code names and to use archaic stylistic and lexical forms, which are characteristic aspects of poetry, made alchemical poetic texts progressively more indecipherable. On the other hand, the continuous development of alchemical experiments and their technical vocabulary stimulated the creation of new terms. Scribes often intervened in the text by giving their interpretation of individual terms or phrases and thus proposed personal readings. For this reason, alchemical texts were subject to a steady stream of emendations, which meant that each copy could generate a different and autonomous text.

The Verses upon the Elixir follow this trend. Having to observe the highest level of secrecy, the author wanted to create a new figurative expression that would guarantee the enigmatic and cryptic nature of the solvent par excellence of the entire alchemical process. So, he invented a calque from Latin aqua mercurialis, replacing the name of Mercury with that of the counterpart god of Germanic tradition, Wode.

With this expedient and this exceptional coinage, the composer of the Verses contributed to the enrichment of the Middle English alchemical language. To achieve his goal, he did not employ a common lexeme but instead revived an archaism which had fallen into disuse and was therefore alien to most users. If we, therefore, assume that ‘Water of Wode’ is a figurative expression evoking the god Wodan, its translation as aqua nemoris in the Latin version of Terra terrae philosophicae is probably a misreading. Regarding it as ‘water of wood’ is incompatible with the expression that follows, ‘est Acetum vini’, which, as we have seen, is vegetable mercury, a wine distillate and not a water. He merely provided a more immediate and familiar literal translation of the term Wode, confusing it with its homograph wode, ‘wood’, and rendered it in Latin as nemoris. By doing so, he dissipated the hermetic sense of the original formula, demonstrating, at the same time, that he had achieved his purpose in the Verses, which was to preserve the secrecy of this water.