Count Saint-Germain - Malpas

Click here to load reader

  • date post

    10-Apr-2015
  • Category

    Documents

  • view

    331
  • download

    1

Embed Size (px)

description

This is mostly a compilation from contemporary accounts of the 18th century's almost mythical character Count Saint-Germain. Saint-Germain was said to be hundreds of years old, able to create gold from silver, cure gems of imperfections and much else. It was serialized in The Theosophical Path. I've made the chapter titles different from the original. There is some repetition of accounts from different sources.

Transcript of Count Saint-Germain - Malpas

COMTE de SAINT-GERMAIN By Phillip A. Malpas [from The Theosophical Path]

Contents I. Saint-Germain at the French Court II. Count Saint-Germain in Madagascar III. Casanova and Count Saint-Germain IV. Saint-Germain as Secret Emissary V. Saint-Germain at Schwabach VI. Saint-Germain - from the Memoirs of Prince Charles of Hesse-Cassel VII. Baron Gleichen and Saint-Germain VIII. Madame de Genlis and Saint-Germain IX. Account of Saint-Germain by Madame du Hausset X. Count Saint-Germain in Vienna XI. A Modern Magician XII. Saint-Germain's First Visit to England XIII. A Story of Saint-Germain XIV. The Oeil-de-Boeuf Chronicles

------------------

I. Saint-Germain at the French Court Somewhere about the years 1883-1884 H. P. Blavatsky was staying with the Comtesse d'Adhemar at the family chateau in France, and she mentioned some interesting traditions and papers which were in the possession of that ancient French family whose motto "Plus d'honneur que d'honneurs," is one of the proudest in France. In her magazine The Theosophist H. P. Blavatsky prints some extracts from a book written by a former Comtesse d'Adhemar on the subject of Comte de Saint-Germain who was a friend before the revolutionary times and afterwards. The book, Souvenirs sur Marie Antoinette, was published in 1836, but the authoress, or rather diarist, died in 1822. It is a monumental work of over 1500 pages and contains some interesting history as to the unfortunate Queen, for the Comtesse was her most trustworthy lady-in-waiting. All through the book there runs a thread of the wonderful foresight of the famous Count, which, as he knew and said, would not be appreciated by Marie Antoinette until too late. It is perhaps not too much to say that if his advice had been taken, the horrors of the Revolution would never have occurred, but Marie Antoinette did not know, and could not believe. This extraordinary man, who was remembered by an ancient dame at the French Court as a man of middle age in 1710, and who was seen, little changed, by the Comtesse whom he befriended, in 1822, and who declared that he would return to Europe in 1875,

was a personal and intimate friend of the great Louis XV for over twenty years, and was employed by that monarch on many a delicate mission when it was possible to escape from political fetters. Louis XV knew well who he was, we are given to understand, and would tolerate no ridicule of him nor depreciation. The story, as we have extracted it from the Comtesse's memoirs, is sufficient in itself, in the light of later events, to show just what he was trying to do in her regard and for France, and through France, Europe. He was a Peacemaker who, when permitted by politicians, made peace without talking much about it. Two points may be noted with profit, perhaps. One is that he speaks of a higher power to whose decree he must yield, and therefore with all his real innate greatness he may be considered as sometimes the agent or spokesman of another far greater. The other point is that if he meant anything by his suggestion of coming back to the west in 1875, he must have a purpose not dissimilar in this age, and a possible hope that the "Marie Antoinette" (or what she represented in the welfare of Europe) would not this time fail to accept his protection and warning, and so avert in the bud, in embryo, the conditions, or their equivalent, that produced that revolution. Sometimes it seems that he was and considered himself to be the representative of a body of Helpers of Humanity, in which case his "reappearance" might well mean the reappearance of all that life meant to him - the agent of a body who had the welfare of the race identified with themselves. The Comtesse d'Adhemar herself was a daughter of her age. She was a child of the eighteenth century, and she shows it in her Memoirs. Brilliant, witty, open-minded and intellectual as the times went; superstitious in her own way, sceptical withal, and of an inquiring mind, she reflects the age that produced Voltaire, Diderot, d'Alembert, and all the host of the "Encyclopaedists." The study of the movements which agitated Europe and especially France in the eighteenth century is of absorbing interest, because at no other period of European history since the fall of the great empire of Rome have the consequences of religious, social, and political change been so important. Then began that Age of Transition which is not ended yet, in this, the twentieth century. Madame d'Adhemar's opinion of Saint-Germain is her own; others have held other views; but as a contemporary, as an eye-witness of that remarkable man's acts, as a personal acquaintance of him, and as a favorite of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette - first dauphine, then queen - and hence intimate with the brilliant court of France and thoroughly conversant with the conditions which brought on the terrible excesses of the Red Days of the Revolution, her Diary is well worth reading. She wrote things as she saw them, and while we may not agree with all her views, yet they are of interest. Souvenirs sur Marie Antoinette (d'Adhemar). Vol. 1, p. 8: "The Duchess de Choiseul, nee Crozat,.... was frequently present at the suppers in the 'little apartments.' "There was also a man who had long enjoyed this favor: the celebrated and mysterious Comte de Saint-Germain, my friend, who has not been properly known, and to whom I shall devote some pages when I have occasion to speak of Cagliostro. From 1749 the king employed him in diplomatic missions, and he carried them out with good success; he inspired Louis XV for some time with the taste for chemistry, which his Majesty pursued

equally with gastronomy. The king was a past master in the culinary art:... Ibid., Vol. 1, p. 217: "One day the dauphine received an anonymous letter in which she was warned that enemies were plotting against her; if she wanted to know more, it was added, she must consent to two things: the first was to maintain a profound silence as to the revelation, and the second to place in the window of her room a ribbon which would indicate that she agreed to the proposal. The letter was couched in a style calculated to disturb her, and at the same time to arouse her curiosity. "At first she hesitated, fearing that they wanted to draw her into a trap; then she consulted the abbe de Vermont. He told her that the great were sometimes forced to depart from common custom, and that, in any case, he saw nothing very much out of the way in putting a ribbon in the window. This advice from a man whose every word was an oracle for the princess, together with the natural curiosity of a young woman, and finally the pleasure of committing herself to an exciting adventure, determined the dauphine. The ribbon fluttered in the window for a couple of days. "On the third day a second letter arrived; it declared that it was necessary to send a discreet and intelligent gentleman to Paris. These were to be his instructions: He would go to the Rue Maubuee to the seventh house on the right counting from the side of the Rue Saint-Martin; he was to go up to the third story, and knock at a door on the landing; some one would come to open, asking him what he wanted. "'To speak to Madame Hebrard.' "'For what purpose?' "'To buy bread for saying mass.' "This was the password; the rest will appear from the details of the story which I am going to put into the mouth of the one who carried out this mission. "The Dauphine was the more embarrassed by the choice of messenger as the letter said: Send neither an abbe nor a priest; he will be recognized, however well he may be disguised, and his intervention will be fatal to success. This excluded the abbe de Vermont, to his great regret; he would have been delighted to have done this service for his mistress. The princess then found herself obliged to call in an outsider. She knew my fidelity, and I had the special honor of being chosen to aid her in her search for an ambassador. Only one name came to my mind; it was that of M. le Comte d'Adhemar. The Dauphine was good enough to say when I proposed my husband: "'My interests could not be in better hands.' "'Nor those of France, madame, if necessity arose,' I replied. "'We shall see about that later on,' said the princess kindly. "Thus a diplomatic mission was promised to M. d'Adhemar a long time in advance. He had to report himself to the abbe de Vermont who gave him as a guide the last letter received and recommended him to read it carefully. M. d'Adhemar went to a window, took note of the letter and gave it back to the abbe after having read it aloud, without missing a single word. "His memory was prodigious; he knew by heart ten tragedies of Racine, ten pieces of Pierre Corneille, all those of Voltaire, several of Crebillon, la Henriade, the Fables of Fontaine, all Moliere, the twenty-four books of Telemaque, those of Tasso, of Ariosto also, the two poems of Milton, and he claimed that reading two hundred verses three times

before going to bed engraved them for ever on his mind. He knew innumerable detached pieces of poetry; he astonished me by the variety of his quotations. Madame de Polignac called him the 'living Encyclopaedia,' because one could consult him on any subject whatever. "The Comte d'Adhemar, only too happy to find an occasion to prove his devotion to the Dauphine, drove to Paris. There he took off his court dress and dressed 'en polisson,' bourgeois fashion. I underline this inconvenient term which was coming into fashion among the courtiers; they applied it to themselves when, not being appointed to attend for the journey to Marly, they went there in the bourgeois costume of Paris, especially in the reign of Louis XVI. This is how the invitation ceremonial took place. When it was known that the court was going to Marly, the gentlemen whose wives had not the official right to attend, placed themselves in the morning in the way of the King whe