Galip took him to his master, and the
hermit informed him that he had made this
long journey on purpose to tell him that, in
the solitudes of Jerusalem, dwelt a holy man
who had received this supreme wisdom of
God—the knowledge of the hermetic work.
"He has confessed to me that he has this
precious gift, and I have seen the proof of it
in the immense treasures of gold and silver
he took each year to Jerusalem."

Kalid cautioned him of the risk he ran of
being put to death like many others before
him, if he made promises he could not
perform; but, as the hermit seemed very
confident and not in the least afraid, Kalid
grew sanguine, and his desire to see Morieu
again increased, if possible, in ardour. For,
he had no doubt, from the description, that
this holy man at Jerusalem was Morieu
himself.

Kalid desired Galip to take an escort and
accompany the hermit. After many difficulties,
they came to the mountains of Jerusalem,
where they found Morieu; who, in a rude
hair garment, lived in perpetual youth and
the most austere penance. He made no
difficulty about going back to Egypt with
Galip. The Soldan received him with great
joy, and would have made him his vizier;
but Morieu had no other desire than to
convert the prince to the true religion. He
preached all the truths of Christianity, but
Kalid would not be converted; he, however,
treated Morieu as his dearest friend, and he
seems to have been a very good man, if we
may judge from the fact that Morieu at last
instructed him in all the secrets which he
had so long and so ardently desired to learn.
The remainder of his life is not known, but
so far his history and his conversations have
been written both by himself and by Galip
the faithful slave. Kalid wrote some little
treatises on hermetic philosophy, which are
printed. Bacon and Arnold both cite Morieu
as one of the hermetic philosophers, and
Robertus Castrensis translated Morieu's
book into Latin from the Arabic in the year
eleven hundred and eighty-two.

Most of the alchemists had a history
attached to them. Raymond Lully had a romance
—The reader will find all we tell, written
in heavy biographical dictionaries and musty
books of reference, innocent of the least
tendency to levity or novel-writing.*

* He may consult for himself, if he pleases, the following
works upon the Life of Raymond Lully:—Byrorius
Annal, Eccles, tom. 14, ann. 1372; Bolland Act. Saneta,
tom. 23; Mariana de Rebus Hispania, lib. 15, c. 4;
Peroquet Vie de R. Lully, Vendôme, 1667; Hist. de
Raymond Lully, Paris, 1668, 12mo.

Raymond Lully was born at Majorca, in
the year twelve hundred and thirty-five. His
father was of a noble family, seneschal to
James the First of Arragon, who had enriched
him with lands in the isles of Majorca and
Minorca, when they were taken from the
Saracens in twelve hundred and thirty.
Raymond was brought up at court after the
fashion of the young noblemen of that age.
He received little instruction of any kind
except in the arts and accomplishments of a
cavalier. He was handsome, graceful, excellent
in all knightly exercises, and, we are
sorry to add, eminently a mauvais sujet. He
led a gambling, dissipated, disreputable life,
enjoying great favour at court, where James
the Second of Arragon continued the favour
that his father had shown to the father of
Raymond. He made him seneschal of the
isles and grand provost of the palace.
Raymond increased his fortune by a great
marriage; but the more money he had,
the more he spent. He led the life of a
grand seigneur, and carried on his affairs in
grand style. He fell in love at last with a
beautiful woman of the court, Donna
Ambrosia Eleanora di Castello. She was married
and considered as remarkable for her virtue
as her beauty. For some time the declarations
and assiduities of Raymond took no
effect; but one day it so happened that,
whilst she was leaning from a window the
wind blew aside her handkerchief, and
displayed her bosom. Raymond, who, of course,
was hanging about wherever she was to be
seen, was so struck with her beauty that he
wrote some passionate verses on the white
bosom he had beheld. This poem took an
effect he had scarcely dared to hope. The
Lady Eleanora sent him a message desiring
his company. It may be imagined with what
alacrity he obeyed her commands. He was
shown into her presence; he fell at her feet;
and began at once to expand into expressions
of gratitude and passion; but she desired him
to rise, and told him that, having tried in
vain to repulse his passion, and to cure him
by her coldness and indifference, she had now
resolved to requite him by allowing him to
look upon the beautiful white bosom he had
celebrated in his verse; saying which, she
disclosed her bosom and half her side, and he saw
a hideous cancer. The shock was so terrible,
that he forsook the court and entirely changed
his mode of life. He had a remarkable vision,
in which he imagined he beheld The Saviour,
who said to him, Raymond, follow me from
henceforth. This vision he saw twice; he
then delayed no longer, but arranged his
affairs and divided his property amongst his
family. What became of his wife we are not
told; but he himself retired to a hovel on
mount Aranda, near his estate, and there he
devoted himself to study Arabic, and to
prepare for the conversion of the infidels. He
was at that time about thirty years of age.
People did nothing by halves in those days.
If their profligacy and violence were enormous,
their devotion and austerity, when they
threw themselves into religion, was in the
same proportion. He remained in this
retreat for six years; and then set out with a
servant—who could speak Arabic, and was a
Mahomedan—to convert the infidels wherever
he might find them. But the servant no