Arnold (Ros., I, 9): “In so far as the substances here do not become incorporeal or volatile, so that there is no more substance [as such therefore destroyed] you will accomplish nothing in your work.” The red man and the white woman, called also red lions and white lilies, and many other names, are united and cooked together in a vessel, the philosophical Egg. The combined material becomes thereby gradually black (and is called raven or ravenhead), later white (swan); now a somewhat greater heat is applied and the substance is sublimated in the vessel (the swan flies up); on further heating a vivid play of colors appears (peacock tail or rainbow); finally the substance becomes red and that is the conclusion of the main work. The red substance is the philosopher’s stone, called also our king, red lion, grand elixir, etc. The after work is a subsequent elaboration by which the stone is given still more power, “multiplied” in its efficiency. Then in “projection” upon a baser metal it is able to tincture immense amounts of it to gold. [In the stage of projection the red tincture is symbolized as a pelican. The reason for this will be given later.] If the main work was interrupted at the white stage, instead of waiting for the red, then they got the white stone, the small elixir, with which the base metals can be turned into silver alone. We have spoken just now of the main work and the after work. I mention for completeness that the trituration and purification, etc., of the materials, which precedes the main work, is called the fore work. The division is, however, given in other ways besides. Armed with this explanation we can venture to look for the alchemic hieroglyphs in our parable. I must beg the reader to recall the main episodes. In the wanderer we have to conceive of a man who has started out to learn the secret of the great work. He finds in the forest contradictory opinions. He has fallen deep into errors. The study, although difficult, holds him fast. He cannot turn back (Sec. 1). So he pursues his aim still further (Sec. 2) and thinks he has now found the right authorities (Sec. 3) that can admit him to the college of wisdom. But the people are not at one with each other. They also employ figurative language that obscures the true doctrine, and which, contrasted with practice, is of no value. (I mention incidentally that the great masters of the hermetic art are accustomed to impress on the reader that he is not to cling to their words but measure things always according to nature and her possibilities.) The elders promise him indeed the revelation of important doctrines but are not willing to communicate the beginning of the work (Sec. 5, 6, preparation for the fight with the lion). That is a rather amusing trait of hermetic literature.