homunculus of Paracelsus'.'65
It may be significant that it was also claimed to be possible to grow magical, sentient entities inside the wombs of cows. Leonardo's drawing of a perfectly formed human baby curled up inside a cow's uterus has always been dismissed as a typical Da Vinci joke - presumably at the expense of women. Perhaps it was a sly dig at the sanctity of motherhood, but perhaps it was also a comment, satirical or even admiring, on the magical concept of homunculi. Leonardo's own lifelike creations - at least those we know about - took the less creepy form of a robot, a true working humanoid automaton, which he built c. 1495.11 Dressed in a full suit of armour, it was designed to open and close its mouth, move its head, sit up and wave its arms, and `may have made sounds to the accompaniment of automated drums' 67 Leonardo's pioneering work with robots directly inspired Mark Rosheim's `mechanical men' or `anthrobots', and whose work `has culminated in the electric 43-axis Robotic Surrogate built for NASA Johnson Space Center and intended to service Space Station Freedom. Thus, Leonardo's vision reaches beyond the confines of our planet to explore the universe.'6'
While making moving machines in the humanoid shape may not have been considered very devilish by sophisticated men of his day, the Church predictably disliked any such object (see below). But as for the notion of attempting to fly off into space it had no place in their learning, as did any real astronomical research. It is as well that Leonardo kept his notebooks to himself, for one bears the scribbled note, perhaps a reminder, to `make glasses to see Moon up close', anticipating the astronomical daring of Galileo and Copernicus by a generation, neither of whom were exactly revered by the Inquisition.
England's most famous mage, Dr John Dee (1527-1606), also received a reputation for sorcery because he designed and built a robot - a mechanical beetle for a play. By then, however, he had established himself as something of an academic prodigy - having gone up to Cambridge University when just fifteen, becoming Greek Under-reader and a fellow of its newest college, Trinity, where he was already rumoured to be engaged in the dark arts.
As visiting scholar to all the great European seats of learning, Dee seized every opportunity to debate the finer points of astrology, mathematics, navigation, theology, even ritual magic - but as always, concentrating on his first love, astrology.69 It was his astrological work that was to put him in great personal danger.
In 1553 the future Queen Elizabeth I was under house arrest on the orders of her fanatical Catholic sister, Queen Mary (who tortured and burnt her way to earn the title of `Bloody Mary').70 Princess Elizabeth summoned Dee to cast her regal sister's horoscope in order to know when Mary might die, but the Queen retaliated by throwing the astrologer in jail for trying to kill her through sorcery. Strangely, at such a time and in the reign of such a monarch, even one who was believed to traffic with devils for purposes of treason survived: he was released in 1555 after having been freed then re-arrested for heresy, over which he also miraculously triumphed. Dee's apparently charmed life was to last - but certainly not for ever.
When Mary died' and Elizabeth took the throne in 1558, she appointed Dr Dee as her court astrologer, and - judging by the secrecy that surrounded his many foreign trips as `agent 007' - perhaps even a major spy, although as ever where the intelligence agencies are concerned, hard evidence remains elusive. With royal favour, Dee's career flourished. He also dedicated his tract on alchemy, The Hieroglyphic Mind (1564), to the Hungarian Emperor Maximilian II, thus ensuring his celebrity spread across Europe. In the guise of Prospero in Shakespeare's The Tempest, he says happily: `Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time/Goes upright with his carriage.''' It was during this golden time that he began to work with mediums, although the first proved useless for his purposes. The second, however, was to change his life completely over the course of a long and bizarre occult partnership ...
In 1581 he met Edward Kelley (or 'Kelly'),7' an occultist, alchemist, magus and necromancer - exactly what any selfrespecting magician wanted, although Kelley always seemed reluctant to exploit his gift for mediumship. Ironically, although Dee himself had a raw talent for divination, he found it impossible to open up completely to the invisible world. Kelley may have been the answer to Dee's prayers as magical colleague, but perhaps his reputation for petty crime had not penetrated as far south as the astrologer's home in Mortlake, Surrey, although his cropped ears, mutilated as punishment for passing forged coins, would inevitably be spotted no matter how closely he pulled his black cap close over them. Kelley had a murky background as rogue lawyer, when he was convicted of forging land deals, and other semi-professional crimes. When he first presented himself to Dee, Kelley used the alias `Talbot', which he maintained from March to November 1582, while he ingratiated himself with the erudite court astrologer. Suddenly Talbot disappears from Dee's diary to be replaced by `E.K'. Dee's fourth Book of Mysteries begins `after the reconciliation with Kelley'' - perhaps the first of the rows and upsets that were to plague their partnership.
However, in 1570 Kelley had acquired an old alchemical document concerning the transmutation of metals, and the story goes that eight years later he successfully turned 1lb of lead into pure gold. Although this would always be a potent prize to dangle before the greedy eyes of kings and princes, it was gold of another sort that he offered to Dee, who coveted intellectual and spiritual wealth far more. The twenty-seven-year-old entered the Dee household as a Mephistopheles to a Faust: charming, persuasive, and corrupting, another snake in Eden.
Kelley used a variety of techniques with which to operate clairvoyantly, including a `shewstone', something akin to a crystal ball. As Samuel Butler (1612-80) wrote scathingly in his Hudibras:75 `Kelly did all his feats upon/the Devil's looking-glass, a stone/ Where, playing with him at bo-peep,/He solv'd all problems ne'er so deep'. Kelley was clearly adept at `scrying' - using a polished surface, in his case a convex mirror of obsidian76 to see far-off places or times, or as a medium through which to communicate with non-human entities - such as the Archangel Uriel.
(As the Baptist's traditional guardian, perhaps Uriel represented the idea that John's skull would be used for purposes of divination. It may also be significant that young boys who were used as clairvoyants in the early Common Era often had `Uriel' written on their foreheads.)
The archangel gave him instructions for forging a protective talisman, an essential tool for those who engage in the perilous business of working with entities that might not be all they claim to be. In later years Dee developed the `Monas Hieroglyphica', which he believed to be the ultimate occult symbol.
During the next seven years, Dee and Kelley worked together obsessively. The mage recorded his angelic conversations, in which he was taught the `ancient Enochian language' - believed to be spoken in Eden before the Fall - besides completely new magical rituals. While many of his notes are perhaps deliberately obscure, and others are simply concerned with the finer points of Enochian grammar, others detail what appear to be authentic predictions. For example, on 5 May 1583 Uriel gave Kelley a disturbing vision of a horizon darkened with a huge fleet of ships, later presumed to be the Spanish Armada of 1588, which perhaps prompted Dee to hex the enemy vessels. Significantly, the medals struck to commemorate England's escape from the Armada echo the idea of a miracle, bearing the words: `God blew his wind and they were scattered'. Uriel also bestowed another major vision, of a woman being beheaded by `a black man' - almost certainly Mary Queen of Scots at the hands of the black-hooded executioner.
Although their `workings' were quintessentially magical, underlying them was Dee's fervent desire to return the Christian religion to a potent unity - but as all he could see all around him were dissent and schisms, persecution and bigotry, this reunification would have to be achieved in heterodox ways. Uriel told him: `These are the days wherein the prophet said, No faith should be found on the earth. This faith must be restored again, and men must glorify God in his works. I am the light of God' [My emphasis].' The strongly Gnostic tone is repeated, for example, in the angel Madimi's words to Dee:
And lo, the issue which he giveth thee is wisdom. But to, the mother of it is not yet delivered. For, if a woman know her times and seasons of deliverance: Much more doth he [God], who is the Mother of all things ...'
Much of the angelic material was colourfully and repetitively apocalyptic in nature, and rarely wasted the opportunity to emphasize the fact that the two men were called and chosen, as in `You are becoming prophets, and are sanctified for the coming of the Lord.' But the spirits that appeared in the shewstone were not always rigidly dour. Kelley saw a luminous figure declare: `There is a God, let us be merry. E. K. [Kelley] He danceth still. There is a heaven. Let us be merry. E. K. Now he taketh off his clothes again.'79
The angels took over Dee's life. He and Kelley, together with their respective families, travelled widely in Europe on the suggestions/orders of the communicators, finally arriving at Cracow, Poland, in 1587. It was there that the angelic idyll turned terminally sour. On 17 April the angels urged the men to indulge in wife-swapping,
