Her Dark Rein
Deep
beneath
her still heart
darkness awakes
from her crypt she rises into the night
terror shrieks through the darkening sky
blood falls like rain
where she walks
until
dawn
Her Dark Rein
Changelings
The Changeling by Henry Fuseli
Changelings are rather popular ones, they often appear within various works of fiction to reference an impish or mischievous child, or sometimes to just indicate a child who seems to have something otherwordly about them.
Changelings are a type of fae, but I can assure you, they are no Tinker Bell, and they are not the popularized modern conception of what a fairy is, as we have already discussed various different fairy types from Irish myth particular, but other cultures as well, that shed a darker light on just what fairies are all about.
Changelings come out of Britannia myth. Many may be familiar with the story of the changeling. It is a common trait among the traditional myth of the fairy for fae to be portrayed as thieves of children. Even in the old beloved tale of Peter Pan (the original by J.M. Barrie not the Disney version) we see instances of fairies stealing children away. In the myth of the changeling in order for a fairy to steal a child they must leave in its place either a carved wooden substitute, or an elderly, feeble fairy that is to play the role of a human infant.
As they age Changelings become notorious pranksters, hence why mischievous children are so oft linked to them. While it is difficult to determine if ones child is a changeling, in some culture such as England, Hungary, and parts of Africa, it was thought that children who were born with teeth were sure to be changelings. If one suspects their children is a changeling the parent might try and trick them into revealing their true identity.
The Croucher and other Domiciles
Domicile demons are a domestic type of demon, unlike the many various nature demons which I have frequently talked about, I will now move on to more domestic imps. These demons often find their abode within the home, or are present at important moments in human life and experience, such as marriage, childbirth, a death, and so forth. An ancient lament of these demons goes as follows:
Doors do not stop them
bolts do not stop them
they glide in at the doors like serpents
they enter by the windows like the wind
One ancient breed of domicile demon is known as the Croucher and comes from Babylonian myth. The Courcher is an invisible type of demon known as rabisu which means “the ones who wait.” While it cannot be seen it makes its presence felt, causing the hair of any mortal near it to stand on end. Because they cannot be seen they are described by the effect they cause, rather then by physical appearance.
In Ancient Babylonia people believed that multitudes of evil spirits filled into the habitats of humans and fell into different categories; utukku, ekimmu,gallu, alu, and rabisu. The first two are departed spirits of the dead who cannot find rest so they cause harm to the living, most often found around graveyards. The third can be seen in the image of a bull and roams the streets at night, the forth is a specter that appears in the image of a black dog (black dog myths are also a strong part of Irish Lore and thought to be ill omens by some, while others find them to be guardians.)
Most of these can be avoided by staying home, but home provides no safety from the rabisu, it is how the Croucher game about its name, because they lay in wait unseen for unsuspecting mortal victims, within the doorways of the household, because of this they are also known as entrance demons.
Other types of rabisu are thought to perch upon rooftops at the homes of expecting mothers, to prepare to pounce on the newborn babies. In ancient Rome it was a custom to shoot arrows at the rooftops when a woman was in childbirth to protect the mother and baby. In Syria there is a rooftop demon called bar egara who waits to pounce upon men as they cross the threshold of their door on the way to work.
Many different cultures have devised ways to try and drive off these domicile demons. The spreading of salt across a threshold is commonly seen as a way of warding off evil spirits who are believed to be unable to cross salt. Wind chimes were also originally derived as a form of protection. One of the reason why churches ring bells is because the sound of a bell ringing is believed to ward off demons, and evil spirits, so hanging wind chimes in the front of the house can keep away these spirits, as the wind blows the chimes causing a bell like sound to drive them off.
Everyone Loves a Cannibal
Today I would like to discuss a topic that is one that I do not normally delve into but it has made its appearances here and there, and does have some relation to some of the other topics presented on this blog. I was inspired to write this from a story I had recently read. It was a short story, and though at my first reading of the story I felt it was mediocre, nothing really new under the sun, but had its good points, yet the more I began to think about the story, I did find it had a deep psychology to it that is to be appreciated it.
Now for those who are wondering, just what it is I speak of, it is cannibalism. The great taboo, that everyone has some secret fascination with. There is something if not appealing, almost hypnotic about cannibalism. Everyone, at least the majority of everyone fain’s disgust at the idea, and tell themselves they believe it to be one of the most despicable of acts, and yet there is nothing quite as juicy as a story involving cannibalism. The Donor Party does not fail to intrigue, and we all love Hannibal Lector. Who has not at least to themselves contemplated, if they were stranded in the middle of nowhere, on the verge of starvation with nothing to eat, would they consume their companions for their own survival.
Naturally cannibalism is an age old story in the realms of horror, both in fiction and in film, how many times has that age old story been retold, in various different ways? The story of some new fabulous, savory, new dish, something that cannot be quite named, but just melts in the mouth, and is irresistible, and inevitably when the truth does come out, yet, it turns out to be human flesh.
People have a deep rooted fear of cannibalism, but more then that, they have the fear of themselves. Much like the werewolf, and the vampire to some degree, cannibalism is a representation of mans past, of the ancient days prior to so called “civilization” It is the threat, the fear, the horror, that man truly is not as civilized as he likes to think himself. What man fears more deeply then anything, most particularly in the West, is the realization, the knowledge, the line between men and beast, is a thin one, near non-existence. That man knows inside of him he has this lurking beast, is innate wildness, his true-self, the “savage” and if he does not keep it in content check, it will reveal itself, perhaps without him even knowing it.
The true fear in cannibalism, the true horror of these stories, is not the fear that some innocent bystander, might unsuspectingly become the prey, and find himself served upon the platter. The true fear these stories inspire, the real bone chilling conclusion is the idea that man may find himself consuming his fell kinship, and that there will be nothing within him to recognize this, that in truth there is no instinctual, innate mortality against the feasting upon human flesh, nothing in the body, soul, or mind, will be inherently repulsed and prevent him from doing so. And further more, that he will in fact take an almost orgasmic delight in the feasting upon the flesh of his fellow comrades. And the horror of discovering the truth of just what it was he had been served can never take away from that mouth watering taste experienced.
There is something deeply symbolic and psychosocial in cannibalism. I am sure many of us remember Sweeny Todd. In which “the butcher” began by picking off the wealthy, the ones with the power, the corrupt, the oppressors, and serving them up in the most juicy, succulent, scrumptious meat pies which were served to the common people, the masses. So the oppressed were devouring the oppressors and while they were not consciously aware of this fact at the time, they took a great delight in doing so.
I cannot forget the story which inspired this to start with, which did I think have a rooted social message in the nature of man. The story was called The Specialty of the House by Stanley Ellin. And it was all about how “unrefined” and “uncivilized” man had become, and how men give into vices that are harmful both to themselves as well as potentially others, and folly’s of the modern world. There was this little known restaurant, that though was technically open to the public, people only heard about it through word of mouth, and only men were permitted, and the restaurant is seen as this place that is still refined and sophisticated.
So within this restaurant things like smoking and drinking were not permitted, the only drink available was pure clean fresh water, and there were no condiments, no salt and pepper, because part of the problem with society was man’s over indulgence. So this way the patrons would focus purely on the flavors of the dish and not be distracted by anything else.
Of course even though the food is not coated in seasoning or drenched in sauces, it is extraordinarily good, because once a person eats there, they realize they really do not need all of that extra stuff, and after one visit a person becomes a life long patron. And it makes man literally salivate over his meat. It is a touch back to his true carnal nature.
There is this one dish, the house speciality that is really just the cream of the crop, but it is very rare, and you never know just when it is going to be served. It is called Lamb Amirstan. Because allegedly it is lamb that comes from this one particularly rare flock that can only be found in this placed called Amristan which is suppose to be this little unknown place.
As part of the story one of the characters remarks to himself how he notices how plumper he is starting to become, and makes some comment about his companions routoundness. So the patrons of this restaurant, are the flock who are being fattened up and when they are judged as ready, they are then taken back to be served up to the others. So they are feeding upon themselves to their own eventual doom.
It is particularly interesting when one considers the various differently symbolism wrapped up in sheep and lamb, and the conations those animals have, as they are commonly used as sacrificial animals in ancient roots, and of course have particularly symbolism in Christianity.
Which brings me to one more curious point on the ritual of cannibalism. The act of Transubstantiation. For those how do not know, it is the practice that the wine becomes the blood of Christ, and the bread becomes the flesh of Christ, while to many people this a purely symbolic gesture, there are some sects, who view this as being genuinely literally. They believe that the wine, in actuality becomes the blood of Christ, and that the bread in actuality becomes the flesh of Christ. Though of course if anyone might suggest to them they were cannibalistic, no doubt, they would be horrified by this suggestion and denounce cannibalism, and protest that they found it to be a vile practice. As curiously enough the Western world tends to link cannibalism to “heathenism” and “primitive tribes”
And yet, there it is as one of the most sacred and holy acts within their own religion. For even for those who do not believe in the literal act of Transubstantiation, they are symbolic participating in a cannibalistic rite.
Perhaps, at heart, we are all cannibals in one degree or another. We do feed off of each other and as much as some of us might try to deny the inner beast, no can fully or completely escape their true natures. We fear it, not because it is vile, or evil, but because we know that it is within us all. Because it is not indeed as fantastical as at first it might seem, but that we can reach out and touch the edges of it. And we never know just when we might at last indulge.
La Befana
I was trying to decide just what I could do which would be both seasonal as well as apporpriate for my blog, when the perfect answer had come to me. Though I know have been away awhile and negelegeted this neck of the woods. I have been busy and now I have the perfect new entery.
Of course we all know of Santa Clause, though many different myths and tales associating around the figure, but I want to talk about a all together different figure whom many probably have not heard of that serves much the same purpose as Jolly old St. Nick. I am speaking of La Befana, which translate to The White Witch, so who is La Befana? She is a figure from Italian culture, and she very much does embody the rather common and typical imagery of a witch. She is an old hag like woman, who much like Santa Clause is rather round in figure. She very strongly resembles the typical kind of witch seen as part of Halloween decorations, with a big nose and gray hair. She is said to either ware gray or brown. She is believed to ride either upon a flying broom, or some stories say a donkey, and she carries with her a large sack of gifts with which to leave behind to the children of the world, as well she is said to leave both food and presents within the stockings of children.
Some people have come to believe that La Befana is Santa Clause’s wife and she helps him out, and it is from her that the idea of naughty children being left a lump of coal has come. It is always said that often before leaving a house she will use her broom to sweep the floor. Much like leaving milk and cookies for Santa Clause in the common American tradition. Children would leave La Befana, a small glass of wine, as well as a few morsels of food behind and usually the food is something that is local to the particular area
Domovoi
The Domovoi (dom meaning “house”) is a guardian spirit in Russia. He is referred to as “Grandfather” behind his back. Known to be shy, he is not given to make public appearances and is rarely seen, but can be heard nightly in odd groans and creaks. When he does scurry out from behind the stove and across the kitchen floor at night, he is usually with fur and has been mistaken for a cat or a dog. This is his most frequent form, but once in a while he will take the shape of the master of the house and can be seen as a doppelganger ( a double). Reports of the Domovoi as a very old man with a bread are frequent.
When the Domovoi is not in the kitchen, he will wander into the stable, and is said to even groom the horses in the middle of the night. He is fond of horses and cows and can converse with them.
He is usually a domesticated presence, vital to the intrnisic health of the household. But, like all demonic species, he is volatile, impulsive, and subversive by nature. When a Domovoi is aggravated by homeowners, or thinks he has not been paid proper respect. For example if there is salt in his porridge offering, dishes left in the sink, or simply no special treat left for him he can quickly erupt in a violent tantrum. He throws pots at the head of household. He spreads manure all over the front door and stoop. He ties horses to the stalls so they cannot get to their food and slowly starve to death.
Changing Bear Maiden
Werebear by Herman H. Lou
There is a comic side to this myth, as it reflects some of the stereotypes, that can even still be seen today in sic-coms, that man can tend to have about women. It is also an interesting variation from the “werewolf” myth, as well it follows along that idea, but with some differences as you will soon see. It is also interesting because it centers around a woman.
Changing Bear Maiden is a demonic female of the Navajo. She appears at first to be a model housekeeper. She is gentle, beautiful, a virgin, and an orphan who takes the role of mother over her 12 brothers, and can be found in the kitchen preparing meals for them. But when she is seen next, she is filled with wrath and the spirit of revenge and takes the shape of a deadly she-bear.
Changing Bear Maiden lived with her loving brothers, each of whom were skilled hunters and excellent providers. The siblings lived in harmony with each other until one day Changing Bear Maiden became the object of the notorious trickster, Coyote’s desire. After putting him through several tests, she finally agreed to marry him, to the resentment of her brothers. Her nature changed as she fell under the control of the seductive and lusty Coyote.
One day the brothers were going on a hunt and tried to leave Coyote behind. He begged to go with them on the hunt, and finally they gave in. After a while they could no longer tolerate his mischievous ways and sent him home with some meat. They told him to go around the forbidden canyon, not to try and cut across it, but Coyote paid no heed to their warnings, and was killed before arriving home.
The brothers finally returned home from the hunt at night while Coyote remained missing. The sister asked where her husband was and the brothers told her they had warned him not to enter the canyon, but he probably had, and could have been harmed. “What have you done with him?” Changing Bear Maiden asked angrily. She was convinced they had killed him.
Before they went to sleep the brothers sent the youngest to hide and watch their sister. He saw her rise up and face the east, then, moving the way of the sun, she turned and faced the south, west, and north. Then Changing Bear Maiden pulled out her right eyetooth and replaced it with a large tusk. She did the same with her left eyetooth. She did the same with her canine teeth as well. Once she had replaced her teeth, hair began to sprout from her hands and continued to spread over her body.
The young brother returned to the others to report what he had seen and he was sent back to watch some more. The sister continued the ritual of moving in the direction of the sun, and each time she did so, she began to change more and more. And again the brother went back to report what he had seen.
As he spoke, a she-bear suddenly rushed past the lodge to follow the trail of Coyote. At night she came back wounded and all the brothers watched from hiding. The she-bear walked around removing arrowheads from her body. The next morning the she-bear again rushed past the lodge and once more returned bleeding. Over the night she magically healed her wounds. This continued for four days and four nights until she had killed all responsible for Coyote’s death. While the brothers fearful of their own lives had fled. The youngest brother was left at home. Wind had helped the youngest brother dig tunnels within the ground.
When morning came Changing Bear Maiden returned to find her brothers gone and poured water on the ground to see where they had gone. The water spread out to the east and so she followed that direction. She overtook her brothers and killed them. When she poured water on the ground again to find her last, youngest brother, the water sank downward into the ground and she began to dig into the earth where she found him. She told him to come up, and offered her hand to help, but the Wind told him not to accept her help but to climb out on his own.
The young brother climbed out of the whole and started to move east where his sister lured him into the deserted hut, but Wind once more lured him, and so he passed by. His sister asked him to sit facing west so she could comb his hair but Wind told him not to and he was advised to sit facing north instead.
When they both sat down as she touched his hair, he could see her shadow transform into the she-bear and Wind told him to get up and pointed out the plant the Changing Bear Maiden had hidden her vital organs. The boy ran to the plant, having to avoid many obstacles that tried to stop him, and he shot an arrow into the plant. The bear-woman fell to the ground with a stream of blood flowing in two different directions. The Wind told him not to let the streams of blood meet, or his sister would be revived.
The boy cut off her breasts and through them into a pinon tree which never bore fruit, and they became nuts, her tongue became cactus, and her vagina the yuca fruit. He cut off her head and it became a bear and walked into the woods after promising to only attack in order to protect its own kind. Wind then helped the boy revive his brothers.
There are some interesting things about this story. For one thing the fact that her shape-shifting ability is actually associated with the sun. And the fact that in spite of her “evil” or destructive nature, after her death, she was still transformed into a sort of “mother” figure, or a “creator” as each of her parts are transformed into something which is useful to the people.
The Fisherman and the Siren
The Fisherman and the Siren by Frederick Lord Leighton
When I first saw this painting it captivated me. There is some deep meaning within this painting and I am trying to understand just what is being said here. You can see the Fisherman’s pose here has a very Christ like look to it. The way the arms are stretched, and it appears his weight is resting upon them, the relaxed pose of his body. The tilt of the head, and the closed eyes, the serene look while the Siren is hanging around his neck. Also I find it interesting, the basket of fish upon the side. It brings to mind the story about Christ and the Fisherman, also the title of this piece alludes to it.
But what of the Siren? By the fact that she is indeed a Siren, a temptress woman, and her slithery tail which is almost snake like. To me she speaks of temptation. In fact she brings the image of Lilith to my mind. But why link this figure with Christ?
I cannot find any critical essays written about this painting. I was interested and so I researched it but could not find anything.
I feel the water itself must mean something as well.
Lighton was a Pre-Raphaelite painter, they often have a strong use of symbolism in their work. And they touch on many different themes relating to the past. They were concerned with the age of the Romantics, ideas of Chivalry, as well as old myths, lore, and allusions to Biblical stories.
This painting really deeply speaks to me I wish I could uncover its meaning or find some analysis upon it.
Comte Saint-Germain
Many average, reasonable men can conceive wisdom only under the boring form of a sermon and think of the sage only in the semblance of a clergyman. For such men prudery, hypocrisy, and the most abject enslavement to ritual habit and prejudice must be the everyday virtues. When therefore it happens that a genuine sage, by way of amusing himself, mystifies his contemporaries, follows a woman, or lightheartedly raises his glass, he is condemned eternally by the army of short-sighted people whose judgment forms posterity.
That is what happened in the case of the Comte de Saint-Germain. He had a love of jewels in an extreme form, and he ostentatiously showed off those he possessed. He kept a great quantity of them in a casket, which he carried about everywhere with him. The importance he attached to jewels was so great that in the pictures painted by him, which were in themselves remarkable, the figures were covered with jewels; and his colors were so vivid and strange that faces looked pale and insignificant by contrast. Jewels cast their reflection on him and threw a distorting light on the whole of his life.
His contemporaries did not forgive him this weakness. Nor did they forgive him for keeping for an entire century the physical appearance of a man of between forty and fifty years old. Apparently a man cannot be taken seriously if he does not conform strictly to the laws of nature, and he was called a charlatan because he possessed a secret which allowed him to prolong his life beyond known human limits.
“A man who knows everything and who never dies,” said Voltaire of the Comte de Saint-Germain. He might have added that he was a man whose origin was unknown and who disappeared without leaving a trace. In vain his contemporaries tried to penetrate the mystery, and in vain the chiefs of police and the ministers of the various countries whose inhabitants he puzzled, flattered themselves that they had solved the riddle of his birth.
Louis XV must have known who he was, for he extended to him a friendship that aroused the jealousy of his court. He allotted him rooms in the Chateau of Chambord. He shut himself up with Saint-Germain and Madam de Pompadour for whole evenings; and the pleasure he derived from his conversation and the admiration he no doubt felt for the range of his knowledge cannot explain the consideration, almost the deference, he had for him. Madam du Housset says in her memoirs that the king spoke of Saint-Germain as a personage of illustrious birth. Count Charles of Hesse Cassel, with whom he lived during the last years in which history is able to follow his career, must also have possessed the secret of his birth. He worked at alchemy with him, and Saint-Germain treated him as an equal. It was to him that Saint-Germain entrusted his papers just before his supposed death in 1784. However, neither Louis XV nor the Count of Hesse Cassel ever revealed anything about the birth of Saint-Germain. The count even went so far as invariably to withhold the smallest detail bearing on the life of his mysterious friend. This is a very remarkable fact, since Saint-Germain was an extremely well known figure.
In those days, when the aristocracy immersed itself in the occult sciences, secret societies and magic, this man, who was said to possess the elixir of life and to be able to make gold at will, was the subject of interminable talk. An inner force that is irresistibly strong compels men to talk. It makes no difference whether a man is a king or a count; all alike are subject to this force, and increasingly subject to it in proportion as they spend their time with women. For Louis XV and the count to have held out against the curiosity of beloved mistresses we must presume in them either a strength of mind that they certainly did not possess or else some imperious motive which we cannot determine.
By far the greatest obvious talents of the Comte de Saint-Germain were connected with his knowledge of alchemy. Yet if Saint-Germain he knew how to make gold, he was wise enough to say nothing about it. Nothing but the possession of this secret could perhaps account for the enormous wealth at his command, though he was not known to have money on deposit at any banker’s. What he does seem to have admitted, at least ambiguously, is that he could make a big diamond out of several small stones. The diamonds that he wore in his shoes and garters were believed to be worth more than 200,000 francs. He asserted also that he could increase the size of pearls at will, and some of the pearls in his possession certainly were of astonishing size.
If all that he said on this subject was mere bragging, it was expensive, for he supported it by magnificent gifts. Madam du Hausset tells us that one day when he was showing the queen some jewels in her presence, she commented on the beauty of a cross of white and green stones. Saint-Germain nonchalantly made her a present of it. Madam du Hausset refused, but the queen, thinking the stones were false, signed to her that she might accept. Madam du Hausset subsequently had the stones valued, and they turned out to be genuine and extremely valuable.
It was about this period, the beginning of the reign of Louis XVI, that Saint-Germain returned to France and saw Marie Antoinette. The Comtesse d’Adhemar has left a detailed account of the interview. It was to her that he turned to obtain access to the queen. Since his flight to England, he had not reappeared in France, but the memory of him had become a legend, and Louis XV’s friendship for him was well known. It was easy, therefore, for the Comtesse d’Adhemar to arrange a meeting with Marie Antoinette, who immediately asked Saint-Germain if he was going to settle in Paris again. “A century will pass,” was his reply, “before I come here again.”
In the presence of the queen he spoke in a grave voice and foretold events that would take place fifteen years later. “The queen in her wisdom will weigh that which I am about to tell her in confidence. The Encyclopedist party desires power, which it will obtain only by the complete fall of the clergy. In order to bring about this result, it will upset the monarchy. The Encyclopedists, who are seeking a chief among the members of the royal family, have cast their eyes on the Duke de Chartres. The duke will become the instrument of men who will sacrifice him when he has ceased to be useful to them. He will come to the scaffold instead of to the throne. Not for long will the laws remain the protection of the good and the terror of the wicked. The wicked will seize power with bloodstained hands. They will do away with the Catholic religion, the nobility, and the magistracy.”
“So that only royalty will be left,” the queen interrupted impatiently.
“Not even royalty. There will be a bloodthirsty republic, whose scepter will be the executioner’s knife.”
It is quite plain from these words that Saint-Germain’s ideas were entirely different from those ascribed to him by the majority of historical authors of this period, nearly all of whom see in him an active instrument of the revolutionary movement. His terrible and amazing predictions filled Marie Antoinette with foreboding and agitation. Saint-Germain asked to see the King, in order to make even more serious revelations, but he asked to see him without his minister, Maurepas, being told of it.
“He is my enemy,” he said, “and I count him among those who will contribute to the ruin of the kingdom, not from malice but from incapacity.”
The king did not possess sufficient authority to have an interview with anybody without the presence of his minister. He informed Maurepas of the interview that Saint-Germain had had with the queen, and Maurepas thought it would be wisest to imprison in the Bastille a man who had so gloomy a vision of the future.
Out of courtesy to the Comtesse d’Adhemar, Maurepas visited her in order to acquaint her with this decision. She received him in her room.
“I know the scoundrel better than you do,” he said. “He will be exposed. Our police officials have a very keen scent. Only one thing surprises me. The years have not spared me, whereas the queen declares that the Comte de Saint-Germain looks like a man of forty.”
At this moment the attention of both of them was distracted by the sound of a door being shut. The comtesse uttered a cry. The expression on Maurepas’ face changed. Saint-Germain stood before them.
“The king has called on you to give him good counsel,” he said; “and in refusing to allow me to see him you think only of maintaining your authority. You are destroying the monarchy, for I have only a limited time to give to France, and when that time has passed I shall be seen again only after three generations. I shall not be to blame when anarchy with all its horrors devastates France. You will not see these calamities, but the fact that you paved the way for them will be enough to blacken your memory.”
Having uttered this in one breath, he walked to the door, shut it behind him and disappeared. All efforts to find him proved useless. The keen scent of Maurepas’ police officials was not keen enough, either during the days immediately following or later. They never discovered what had happened to the Comte de Saint-Germain.
As had been foretold to him, Maurepas did not see the calamities for which he had helped to pave the way. He died in 1781. In 1784 a rumor was current in Paris that the Comte de Saint-Germain had just died in the Duchy of Schleswig, at the castle of the Count Charles of Hesse Cassel. For biographers and historians this date seems likely to remain the official date of his death. From that day forward, the mystery in which the Comte de Saint-Germain was shrouded grew deeper than ever.
Secluded at Eckenforn in the count’s castle, Saint-Germain announced that he was tired of fife. He seemed careworn and melancholy. He said he felt feeble, but he refused to see a doctor and was tended only by women. No details exist of his death, or rather of his supposed death. No tombstone at Eckenforn bore his name. It was known that he had left all his papers and certain documents relating to Freemasonry to the Count of Hesse Cassel. The count for his part asserted that he had lost a very dear friend. But his attitude was highly equivocal. He refused to give any information about his friend or his last moments, and turned the conversation if anyone spoke of him. His whole behavior gives color to the supposition that he was the accomplice of a pretended death.
Although, on the evidence of reliable witnesses, he must have been at least a hundred years old in 1784, his death in that year cannot have been genuine. The official documents of Freemasonry say that in 1785 the French masons chose him as their representative at the great convention that took place in that year, with Mesmer, Saint-Martin, and Cagliostro present. In the following year Saint-Germain was received by the Empress of Russia. Finally, the Comtesse d’Adhemar reports at great length a conversation she had with him in 1789 in the Church of the Recollets, after the taking of the Bastille. His face looked no older than it had looked thirty years earlier. He said he had come from China and Japan. “There is nothing so strange out there,” he said, “as that which is happening here. But I can do nothing. My hands are tied by someone who is stronger than I. There are times when it is possible to draw back; others at which the decree must be carried out as soon as he has pronounced it.”
And he told her in broad outlines all the events, not excepting the death of the queen, that were to take place in the years that followed. “The French will play with titles and honors and ribbons like children. They will regard everything as a plaything, even the equipment of the Garde Nationale. There is today a deficit of some forty millions, which is the nominal cause of the Revolution. Well, under the dictatorship of philanthropists and orators the national debt will reach thousands of millions.”
“I have seen Saint-Germain again,” wrote Comtesse d’Adhemar in 1821, “each time to my amazement. I saw him when the queen was murdered, on the 18th of Brumaire, on the day following the death of the Duke d’Enghien, in January, 1815, and on the eve of the murder of the Duke de Berry.”
Mademoiselle de Genlis asserts that she met the Comte de Saint-Germain in 1821 during the negotiations for the Treaty of Vienna; and the Comte de Chalons, who was ambassador in Venice, said he spoke to him there soon afterwards in the Piazza di San Marco. There is other evidence, though less conclusive, of his survival. The Englishman Grosley said he saw him in 1798 in a revolutionary prison; and someone else wrote that he was one of the crowd surrounding the tribunal at which the Princess de Lamballe appeared before her execution.
It seems quite certain that the Comte de Saint-Germain did not die at the place and on the date that history has fixed. He continued an unknown career, of whose end we are ignorant and whose duration seems so long that one’s imagination hesitates to admit it.
Many writers who have studied the French Revolution do not believe in the influence exerted by the Comte de Saint-Germain. It is true that he set up no landmarks for posterity, and even obliterated the traces he had made. He left no arrogant memorial of himself such as a book. He worked for humanity, not for himself. He was modest, the rarest quality in men of intelligence. His only foibles were the harm less affectation of appearing a great deal younger than his age and the pleasure he took in making a ring sparkle. But men are judged only by their own statements and by the merits they attribute to themselves. Only his age and his jewels attracted notice.
Yet the part he played in the spiritual sphere was considerable. He was the architect who drew the plans for a work that is as yet only on the stocks. But he was an architect betrayed by the workmen. He had dreamed of a high tower that should enable man to communicate with heaven, and the workmen preferred to build houses for eating and sleeping.
He influenced Freemasonry and the secret societies, though many modem masons have denied this and have even omitted to mention him as a great source of inspiration. In Vienna he took part in the foundation of the Society of Asiatic Brothers and of the Knights of Light, who studied alchemy; and it was he who gave Mesmer his fundamental ideas on personal magnetism and hypnotism. It is said that he initiated Cagliostro, who visited him on several occasions in Holstein to receive directions from him, though there is no direct evidence for this. The two men were to be far separated from one another by opposite currents and a different fate.
The Comtesse d’Adhemar quotes a letter she received from Saint-Germain in which he says, speaking of his journey to Paris in 1789, “I wished to see the work that that demon of hell, Cagliostro, has prepared.” It seems that Cagliostro took part in the preparation of the revolutionary movement, which Saint-Germain tried to check by developing mystical ideas among the most advanced men of the period. He had foreseen the chaos of the last years of the eighteenth century and hoped to give it a turn in the direction of peace by spreading among its future promoters a philosophy that might change them. But he reckoned without the slowness with which the soul of man develops and without the aversion that man brings to the task. And he left out of his calculations the powerful reactions of hatred.
All over the country secret societies sprang up. The new spirit manifested itself in the form of associations. Neither the nobility nor the clergy escaped what had become a fashion. There were even formed lodges for women, and the Princesse de Lamballe became grand mistress of one of them. In Germany there were the Illuminati and the Knights of Strict Observance, and Frederick II, when he came to the throne, founded the sect of the Architects of Africa. In France, the Order of the Templars was reconstituted, and Freemasonry, whose grand master was the Duke de Chartres, increased the number of its lodges in every town. Martinez de Pasqually taught his philosophy at Marseilles, Bordeaux and Toulouse; and Savalette de Lange, with mystics such as Court de Gebelin and Saint-Martin, founded the lodge of the Friends Assembled.
The initiates of these sects understood that they were the depositories of a heritage that they did not know, but whose boundless value they guessed; it was to be found somewhere, perhaps in traditions, perhaps in a book written by a master, perhaps in themselves. They spoke of this revealing word, this hidden treasure it was said to be in the hands of “unknown superiors of these sects, who would one day disclose the wealth which gives freedom and immortality.”
It was this immortality of the spirit that Saint-Germain tried to bring to a small group of chosen initiates. He believed that this minority, once it was developed itself, would, in its turn, help to develop another small number, and that a vast spiritual radiation would gradually descend, in beneficent waves, towards the more ignorant masses. It was a sage’s dream, which was never to be realized.
Napoleon III, puzzled and interested by what he had heard about the mysterious life of the Comte de Saint-Germain, instructed one of his librarians to search for and collect all that could be found about him in archives and documents of the latter part of the eighteenth century. This was done, and a great number of papers, forming an enormous dossier, was deposited in the library of the prefecture of police. Unfortunately, the Franco-Prussian War and the Commune supervened, and the part of the building in which the dossier was kept was burnt. Thus once again a synchronous accident upheld the ancient law that decrees that the life of the adept must always be surrounded with mystery.
What happened to the Comte de Saint-Germain after 1821, in which year there is evidence that he was still alive? An Englishman, Albert Vandam, in his memoirs, which he calls An Englishman in Paris, speaks of a certain person whom he knew towards the end of Louis Philippe’s reign and whose way of life bore a curious resemblance to that of the Comte de Saint-Germain. “He called himself Major Fraser, wrote Vandam, “lived alone and never alluded to his family. Moreover he was lavish with money, though the source of his fortune remained a mystery to everyone. He possessed a marvelous knowledge of all the countries in Europe at all periods. His memory was absolutely incredible and, curiously enough, he often gave his hearers to understand that he had acquired his learning elsewhere than from books. Many is the time he has told me, with a strange smile, that he was certain he had known Nero, had spoken with Dante, and so on.”
Like Saint-Germain, Major Fraser had the appearance of a man of between forty and fifty, of middle height and strongly built. The rumor was current that he was the illegitimate son of a Spanish prince. After having been, also like Saint-Germain, a cause of astonishment to Parisian society for a considerable time, he disappeared without leaving a trace. Was it the same Major Fraser who, in 1820, published an account of his journey in the Himalayas, in which he said he had reached Gangotri, the source of the most sacred branch of the Ganges River, and bathed in the source of the Jumna River?
It was at the end of the nineteenth century that the legend of Saint-Germain grew so inordinately. By reason of his knowledge, of the integrity of his life, of his wealth and of the mystery that surrounded him, he might reasonably have been taken for an heir of the first Rosicrucians, for a possessor of the Philosopher’s Stone. But the theosophists and a great many occultists regarded him as a master of the great White Lodge of the Himalayas. The legend of these masters is well known. According to it there live in inaccessible lamaseries in Tibet certain wise men who possess the ancient secrets of the lost civilization of Atlantis. Sometimes they send to their imperfect brothers, who are blinded by passions and ignorance, sublime messengers to teach and guide them. Krishna, the Buddha, and Jesus were the greatest of these. But there were many other more obscure messengers, of whom Saint-Germain has been considered to be one.
“This pupil of Hindu and Egyptian hierophants, this holder of the secret knowledge of the East,” theosophist Madam Blavatsky says of him, “was not appreciated for who he was. The stupid world has always treated in this way men who, like Saint-Germain, have returned to it after long years of seclusion devoted to study with their hands full of the treasure of esoteric wisdom and with the hope of making the world better, wiser and happier.” Between 1880 and 1900 it was admitted among all theosophists, who at that time had become very numerous, particularly in England and America, that the Comte de Saint-Germain was still alive, that he was still engaged in the spiritual development of the West, and that those who sincerely took part in this development had the possibility of meeting him.
The brotherhood of Khe-lan was famous throughout Tibet, and one of their most famous brothers was an Englishman who had arrived one day during the early part of the twentieth century from the West. He spoke every language, including the Tibetan, and knew every art and science, says the tradition. His sanctity and the phenomena produced by him caused him to be proclaimed a Shaberon Master after a residence of but a few years. His memory lives to the present day among the Tibetans, but his real name is a secret with the Shaberons alone. Might not this mysterious traveler be the Comte de Saint-Germain?
But even if he has never come back, even if he is no longer alive and we must relegate to legend the idea that the great Hermetic nobleman is still wandering about the world with his sparkling jewels, his senna tea, and his taste for princesses and queens even so it can be said that he has gained the immortality he sought. For a great number of imaginative and sincere men the Comte de Saint-Germain is more alive than he has ever been. There are men who, when they hear a step on the staircase, think it may perhaps be he, coming to give them advice, to bring them some unexpected philosophical idea. They do not jump up to open the door to their guest, for material barriers do not exist for him. There are men who, when they go to sleep, are pervaded by genuine happiness because they are certain that their spirit, when freed from the body, will be able to hold converse with the master in the luminous haze of the astral world.
The Comte de Saint-Germain is always present with us. There will always be, as there were in the eighteenth century, mysterious doctors, enigmatic travelers, bringers of occult secrets, to perpetuate him. Some will have bathed in the sources of the Ganges, and others will show a talisman found in the pyramids. But they are not necessary. They diminish the range of the mystery by giving it everyday, material form. The Comte de Saint-Germain is immortal, as he always dreamed of being.
Excerpted from the article by Reginald Merton
