by Jay Weidner
Lonegren bases this assumption on the sacred geometry of the Cretan labrys, the double-headed-ax symbol of the Goddess. As shown in figure 9.4, by using this pattern, which depends on determining true north and designing the width of the ax head to match the latitude of one’s location, it is possible to lay out a design that is correctly aligned to the local lunar and solar year. Of course, this can be done without the addition of the curving and interconnecting lines, which is what makes the labrys a labyrinth.
These interconnecting paths are meant to be walked, to be experienced as that long journey in one place—in other words, as a metaphor for the soul’s quest for meaning. The golden dawn at the center of the Amiens labyrinth is exactly the point. By walking the pattern that orients you, literally, it is possible to glimpse the rise of the inner sun.
Figure 9.4. How the labrys, here composed of four 3-4-5 right triangles, can be used as a cosmic orientation device and as the ground plan for a seven-turn labyrinth.
Following the thread of Ariadne into the maze and then returning, we are reenacting the soul’s journey through death and resurrection. Fulcanelli instructs us that the thread of meaning that navigates the complex fields of the universal “lodestone,” the rising sun behind or beyond our sun, is the architecture of the Temple of Solomon, an esoteric reference to the planetary six-pointed star found in the center of the Tree of Life. The philosopher’s stone, by implication, is formed of these seven planetary components, as shown in figure 9.5.
Fulcanelli highlights five of the seven, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus, and Mercury, as the stone from which the sword is drawn. Saturn, of course, is the gnosis expressed collectively by the first three chapters, the hilt of the sword, while the Moon is represented by the section on Notre Dame, the sword’s point.
Each of these inner five is given, by Fulcanelli, very specific images related to both the quality of the sefirot and the Gothic tradition of the cathedrals. The cross and cube of Chesed transposed into the headstone of the corner is obvious when compared to why a labyrinth should represent Gevurah.
Yet sacred geometry is the answer. Each of the planetary qualities, from Saturn to the Moon, can be given a structural and mathematical form by constructing squares based on their numerical lightning-flash order, so that 3, Binah, is Saturn and forms a three-by-three square (see fig. 9.5). Within this, it is possible to arrange the first nine numbers (3 × 3 = 9) in a pattern so that each line, horizontal, vertical, and diagonal, adds up to 15.
Figure 9.5. The traditional planetary attributions of the sefirot.
Magic squares can be formed for each successive number; 4, or Jupiter, is formed of the first sixteen numbers and adds up to 34 in all directions, and so on. There are many different theories about magic squares, all of which are fascinating and insightful to the mystical mathematician as well as to the magician, but Fulcanelli is directing us toward how the magic square constructs the labyrinth.
One of the mathematical theories about magic squares concerns the mirror symmetry of their odd/even patterning. Even-numbered magic squares, Jupiter, the Sun, and Mercury, or 4, 6, and 8, respectively, exhibit hemispherical symmetry where each side is a reflection of the other; whereas the odd squares, Saturn, Mars, Venus, and the Moon, or 3, 5, 7, and 9, respectively, exhibit radial symmetry that is reflected outward from a central point. From this we note that the odd-numbered squares all have central crosses of odd numbers and alternating odd and even numbers in the corners. This pattern of radial symmetry allows us to use the odd-numbered magic squares as templates for the classical labyrinths.
Figure 9.6. How the magic square of Mars becomes the plan of the classical seven-turn labyrinth.
Saturn, which in Fulcanelli is the sum of the first three sefirot, is a classical three-circuit labyrinth. Since Jupiter is an even-numbered symmetrical cube, it is Mars, attributed to Gevurah, and the square of Mars that form the exact seven-circuit labyrinth indicated by Fulcanelli (see fig. 9.6c). (To see how this works, take a magic square and lightly color in the even numbers. Then, if you have an odd-numbered magic square, go either to the right or to the left connecting odd numbers to even numbers around the outside of the square. This will form the basic labyrinth pattern.)
Figure 9.7. A table of kabbalistic planetary and numerical relationships.
The magic square of Mars contains the first twenty-five numbers arranged so that every direction adds up to 65. This number is indicative, by means of gematria, of both light and Adonai, the Lord, in Hebrew. This suggests that the Mars square is somehow a master pattern of light, which when translated into the classical seven-turn labyrinth becomes the interactive architecture of Solomon’s Temple, or, even more exactly, the philosopher’s stone.
On the Tree of Life, the path from Gevurah, or Mars, to Tiferet, the Sun, lies through the Sphinx, the sign of Leo, the Hebrew letter teth, and the Tarot trump Strength. This turn toward the light, which is the subject of Fulcanelli’s next section, follows the thread to the center, the rising sun. But before we move on, we need to look again at Fulcanelli’s planetary pattern.
Fulcanelli drops the simplest labyrinth square, that of Saturn, and the most complex and enfolded of the magic-square dimensional patterns, that of the Moon, to focus on Jupiter, a cube; Mars, a seven-turn labyrinth; the Sun, a hypercube; Venus, the eleven-turn labyrinth; and Mercury, a hyperoctahedron (see fig. 9.8). While these hypersymmetry patterns are revealing of an even deeper structural organization, their planetary attributions suggest an actual pattern in the sky, that of a rising sun with Jupiter and Mars above the horizon and Mercury and Venus below.
Figure 9.8. The magic square of the Sun produces a tesseract, or hypercube.
When we see these symbols again, on the Cyclic Cross of Hendaye, we shall find not only the obvious synchronicity of the appropriate alignment of planets, but also the possible meaning of the transformation that they symbolize. We shall also find that the complex geometry of the labyrinth contains the secret of time itself, the ancient technique of celestial projection and orientation symbolized by the eight-rayed star of Isis/Mary. But that is far beyond the level of initiation that Fulcanelli has planned for the reader at this point.
Indeed, at this point, it is enough if the reader grasps the potential importance of the labyrinth and its connections to Mars, the thread of Ariadne leading toward the rising sun of Tiferet, and the sacred geometry of the philosopher’s stone. Having made this as clear as we can, let us turn, with Fulcanelli, toward the wondrous light of the rose windows and the sefirah of Tiferet, or Splendor.
“All churches,” Fulcanelli reminds us, “have their apse turned toward the south-east, their front toward the north-west, while the transepts, forming the arms of the cross, are directed to the north-east and the south-west. That is the invariable orientation, intended in such a fashion that the faithful and profane, entering the church by the west, walk straight to the sanctuary facing the direction in which the sun rises, i.e. the Orient, Palestine, the cradle of Christianity. They leave the shadows and walk towards the light.”6
In this simple and elegant paragraph, Fulcanelli connects us with the labyrinth he discussed in the previous section, which is oriented according to the same principle, as well as the ancient tradition of temple orientation that extends from the Egyptians to such modern Rosicrucian groups as the hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. Indeed, a study of the surviving rituals of this late-nineteenth- and earlytwentieth-century magical order provides many curious nuggets of the secret tradition. While it is not surprising that a magical order would base its temple space on the orientation of the Gothic cathedrals, what is surprising is that Fulcanelli knows the underlying geometric reasons why both of these “temples” are indeed sacred.
To glimpse this level, it is necessary to return for a moment to our evolving magic-square pattern. We noted that the Sun’s square, an even-numbered one, could be considered a hypercube, or fourth-dimensional cube. Its mirror symmetry allows one to fold it through the thi
rd dimension and form a cube within a cube of 16 vertices, 32 edges, 24 faces, and 8 four-dimensional cells, as shown in figure 9.8. These numbers, as we shall find in chapter 10, are important to Fulcanelli’s explication of the Sun as shown on the Cyclic Cross of Hendaye. A temple based on this hidden geometry would therefore partake of the mystical activity of the sun itself, that of radiating light or illumination.
Fulcanelli then directs our attention to the play of light through the rose windows of the cathedrals, telling us that “the Work unfolds in a circular progression.”7 This progression Fulcanelli associates with the wheel of fire, both physical and psychic. He quotes a seventeenth-century alchemical poem that restates the aphorisms of the Emerald Tablet by advocating the middle way, then declares that “the rose alone represents the action of the fire and its duration,” telling us that this “is why the medieval decorators sought in their rose windows to translate the movement of matter, stirred up by the elementary fire”8 into a temporal organization of light.
This image of the wheel of the year as a wheel of light describes the meaning of Tiferet, which is attributed to the sun, quite well. Fulcanelli emphasizes this by drawing our attention again to the star of Solomon, the philosopher’s stone at the heart of the Tree of Life. He directs us to a collection of six-petaled rose windows, ending with “the splendid blue rose of the Sainte-Chapelle,”9 and then suggests that, “since this sign [the six-pointed star] is of the greatest interest to the alchemist,”10 it would be wise to examine in detail the star motif. And so, leaving “to the reader the task of making useful comparisons” and “picking out the positive truth,”11 Fulcanelli turns to the fourth component, the star.
Instead of the clarity and simplicity of the previous section, Fulcanelli builds his seventh section, attributed to Netzach, Victory, out of a series of quotes or descriptions from ancient sources on the Star of Deliverance, our fourth component of the Stone of the Wise. (For the mathematically curious, please note that 7 + 4 = 11, the number of turns in a labyrinth formed from the magic square of Venus, the planet attributed to this sefirah.) As Fulcanelli suggested, at the end of the previous section, this star was the one that signaled the Savior’s birth, but it is up to the reader to figure out why it has been given this position and attribution.
And so we are presented with the second half of the great conundrum started in section 4. There we saw how a Tree could become a Stone, and now in this section we shall glimpse how that Stone becomes a Star. But the answer to the conundrum is not easy to unravel, even with Fulcanelli’s help.
For starters, he gives us thirteen different glimpses of the star motif, as well as one bogus reference of modern origin just to see if we are paying attention. The quotations run from Varro’s retelling of the Aeneid to Witkowski’s description of a stained-glass window in the old church of Saint Jean at Rouen, and seem to suggest a subject much broader than the Star of Bethlehem.
Here are the sources and motifs in the order in which Fulcanelli presents them:
Varro: The Star of Venus leads Aeneas to the Land of Grafted Gold, allotted to him by destiny.
Gnostic Book of Seth: A people far to the east have a Writing, which tells of the star and the birth of Child, and prescribes the offerings, which should be taken to him at the appropriate time. This prediction was passed from one generation of wise men to the next, who became over time the twelve Magi. Once a generation they gathered in a cave on Mount Victory, where they meditated for three days, waiting on the sign. When it came, it took the form of a small child holding a cross and the instructions to depart for Judea. The rest is in the Bible.
Unknown author, apocryphal fragment: Here, the journey lasts thirteen days and the closer the Magi came to Bethlehem the more the star looked like an eagle with a cross above it.
Julius Africanus: The scene is a Persian temple built by Cyrus the Great where a star descends to announce the birth of a child, the Beginning and the End, at which all the statues fall down with their faces to the ground as if worshiping the star. The Magi interpret this sign and advise the King to send ambassadors. Bacchus, or Dionysus (of all the gods!), appears and predicts that this new god will drive out the false gods. The Magi depart, and, guided by the star, find Mary and the Child. They have a portrait painted of them, which bears the inscription “To Jupiter Mithra, to the Sun God, to the Great God, to King Jesus, the Persian Empire makes this dedication.”
Saint Ignatius: He tells us that the light of this star outshone all others in the sky and that “The sun, moon and the stars formed a choir around this star.”
Huginus à Barma: This eighteenth-century alchemist who echoes Saint Ignatius by suggesting that the “real earth” of the prima materia should be “well impregnated with the rays of the sun, the moon and the other stars.”
Chalcidius: This fourth-century Gnostic who apparently taught Egyptian star magic comments on Ahc, the Egyptian star of bad fortune, then moves onto the Star of Destiny and the Chaldean astronomers.
Diodorus of Tarsus: This Greek post-Pythagorean philosopher of the second century who was influenced by Philo and the Hebrew Kabbalists suggests that the star wasn’t a real stellar body, but a formation of “urano-diurnal . . . force” that assumed the shape of a star to announce the birth of the Savior.
Luke 2:8–14: The angel and the shepherd verses familiar to us from our childhood Christmas stories.
Matthew 2:1–2, 7–11: The familiar gifts of the Magi story.
Numbers 23:8, 24:17: The famous Star out of Jacob verses from Balaam the prophet of Mesopotamia, land of the Chaldeans.
Triptych of the Virgin at Larmor: The central panel showing the Virgin surrounded by the sun, moon, and a nimbus of stars, while holding a large eight-rayed star in her right hand, suggests, as Fulcanelli says, the stella maris of the Catholic hymn.
Witkowski’s description of a lost stained glass at Rouen shows us a stellar conception attended by the planetary deities.
Now, let us do as Fulcanelli directs, and make useful comparisons that will allow us to pick out the positive truth.
The Star of Venus tells us that we have the correct sefirah and the Land of Grafted Gold suggests exile and lost homeland themes.
Mount Victory again points to the correct attribution, while the story of the Magi introduces the number twelve and, by extension, thirteen when the sign is given. From the Last Supper to the Round Table, this pattern will repeat time after time.
The apocryphal fragment echoes the thirteen and points to the star as being in the old constellation of Scorpio, symbolized as an eagle with a cross as the stinger of the current scorpion.
Dei Helios is really the Great Sun, or the sun behind the sun, which was seen to control the Great Year of the precession, while mention of Dionysus points to the shamanic roots of Christianity as an ecstatic mystery religion. The image of Mary and child is also suggestive of Isis and Horus, whose cult was contemporary to that of Dionysus.
In this snippet, Isis is clearly identified as the center of the galaxy, with the sun and moon and stars forming a choir around her.
This alchemical quote suggests the closeness in process between that of the center of the galaxy and the very basis of alchemy.
Chalcidius suggests that the same Star of Destiny can be either good or bad, as the Egyptians knew.
Diodorus seems to be saying that this stellar sign is not quite what we would think of as a star, but some form of periodic subtle energy outburst.
Here’s the good news behind the Gnostic incarnation of Jesus. Matter can be redeemed by an infusion of divine glory, symbolized by the babe born at the cusp of Leo and Virgo.
Our familiar story of the Three Kings of the Orient, the Wise Men of the East whose astronomical observations led them to the birth of the Savior.
Balaam’s prediction of the Star of Jacob and the scepter out of Israel is very interesting as it is the first messianic prediction in the Old Testament. Balaam of course is not a Hebrew, but a priest or Magi of the go
d Baal, the God Most High, the old dragon constellation coiled around the still point of the universe, the north ecliptic pole.
The Virgin identified with Mary, Isis, and the star of the sea.
A glimpse of a Tantric or alchemical procedure for creating a star child.
Having found our nuggets of “positive truth,” what can we make of Fulcanelli’s message in this section?
An ancient group of astronomical adepts, the Magi, watched the skies for the sign, which seems to be a new starlike eruption of light in the region of Scorpio’s crosslike tail, near or at the center of our galaxy. When the sign comes, the Magi travel to acknowledge the Savior and find Mother Isis/Mary and her child. They acknowledge her as the center of the galaxy and her child as the source of the new light, known in the past only to the Magi and the shamans. This new light is linked to the alchemcial process and the Tantric star-child in particular, while a hint is given that the whole secret can be found in the ancient astronomies of Egypt, Canaan, and Mesopotamia.
The quotations also suggest, by their number, an esoteric thirteen-sign zodiac, one that is oriented toward the center of the galaxy between Scorpio and Sagittarius. This gives us a distinctly different, and quite ancient, view of the universe, echoes of which remain in modern superstitions such as the unlucky Friday, Venus’ day, the thirteenth. This chapter is Fulcanelli’s clearest example yet of the initiatory quality inherent in his presentation of the material. By forcing the reader to think and sort through the star myths, Fulcanelli is pushing the reader into an altered state of awareness. Suddenly, the universe looks quite different, older and more significant.
And, the careful reader will note, we are far from what is normally considered alchemy. The next section, taking us deeper into the prima materia, only reinforces this sense of strangeness. Alchemy, as Fulcanelli reveals it to us, is very far indeed from the vain lab work of the puffers.
