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Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions

C >> Charles Mackay >> Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions




He was now approaching the age of fifty, and had as yet seen
nothing of the world. He, therefore, determined to travel through
Germany, Italy, France, and Spain. Wherever he stopped he made
inquiries whether there were any alchymists in the neighbourhood. He
invariably sought them out; and, if they were poor, relieved, and, if
affluent, encouraged them. At Citeaux he became acquainted with one
Geoffrey Leuvier, a monk of that place, who persuaded him that the
essence of egg-shells was a valuable ingredient. He tried, therefore,
what could be done; and was only prevented from wasting a year or two
on the experiment by the opinions of an attorney, at Berghem, in
Flanders, who said that the great secret resided in vinegar and
copperas. He was not convinced of the absurdity of this idea until he
had nearly poisoned himself. He resided in France for about five
years, when, hearing accidentally that one Master Henry, confessor to
the Emperor Frederic III, had discovered the philosopher's stone, he
set out for Germany to pay him a visit. He had, as usual, surrounded
himself with a set of hungry dependants, several of whom determined to
accompany him. He had not heart to refuse them, and he arrived at
Vienna with five of them. Bernard sent a polite invitation to the
confessor, and gave him a sumptuous entertainment, at which were
present nearly all the alchymists of Vienna. Master Henry frankly
confessed that he had not discovered the philosopher's stone, but that
he had all his life been employed in searching for it, and would so
continue, till he found it; -- or died. This was a man after Bernard's
own heart, and they vowed with each other an eternal friendship. It
was resolved, at supper, that each alchymist present should contribute
a certain sum towards raising forty-two marks of gold, which, in five
days, it was confidently asserted by Master Henry, would increase, in
his furnace, five fold. Bernard, being the richest man, contributed
the lion's share, ten marks of gold, Master Henry five, and the others
one or two a piece, except the dependants of Bernard, who were obliged
to borrow their quota from their patron. The grand experiment was duly
made; the golden marks were put into a crucible, with a quantity of
salt, copperas, aquafortis, egg-shells, mercury, lead, and dung. The
alchymists watched this precious mess with intense interest, expecting
that it would agglomerate into one lump of pure gold. At the end of
three weeks they gave up the trial, upon some excuse that the crucible
was not strong enough, or that some necessary ingredient was wanting.
Whether any thief had put his hands into the crucible is not known,
but it is certain that the gold found therein at the close of the
experiment was worth only sixteen marks, instead of the forty-two,
which were put there at the beginning.

Bernard, though he made no gold at Vienna, made away with a very
considerable quantity. He felt the loss so acutely, that he vowed to
think no more of the philosopher's stone. This wise resolution he kept
for two months; but he was miserable. He was in the condition of the
gambler, who cannot resist the fascination of the game while he has a
coin remaining, but plays on with the hope of retrieving former
losses, till hope forsakes him, and he can live no longer. He returned
once more to his beloved crucibles, and resolved to prosecute his
journey in search of a philosopher who had discovered the secret, and
would communicate it to so zealous and persevering an adept as
himself. From Vienna he travelled to Rome, and from Rome to Madrid.
Taking ship at Gibraltar, he proceeded to Messina; from Messina to
Cyprus; from Cyprus to Greece; from Greece to Constantinople; and
thence into Egypt, Palestine, and Persia. These wanderings occupied
him about eight years. From Persia he made his way back to Messina,
and from thence into France. He afterwards passed over into England,
still in search of his great chimera; and this occupied four years
more of his life. He was now growing both old and poor; for he was
sixty-two years of age, and had been obliged to sell a great portion
of his patrimony to provide for his expenses. His journey to Persia
had cost upwards of thirteen thousand crowns, about one-half of which
had been fairly melted in his all-devouring furnaces: the other half
was lavished upon the sycophants that he made it his business to
search out in every town he stopped at.

On his return to Treves he found, to his sorrow, that, if not an
actual beggar, he was not much better. His relatives looked upon him
as a madman, and refused even to see him. Too proud to ask for favours
from any one, and still confident that, some day or other, he would be
the possessor of unbounded wealth, he made up his mind to retire to
the island of Rhodes, where he might, in the mean time, hide his
poverty from the eyes of all the world. Here he might have lived
unknown and happy; but, as ill luck would have it, he fell in with a
monk as mad as himself upon the subject of transmutation. They were,
however, both so poor that they could not afford to buy the proper
materials to work with. They kept up each other's spirits by learned
discourses on the Hermetic Philosophy, and in the reading of all the
great authors who had written upon the subject. Thus did they nurse
their folly, as the good wife of Tam O'Shanter did her wrath, "to keep
it warm." After Bernard had resided about a year in Rhodes, a
merchant, who knew his family, advanced him the sum of eight thousand
florins, upon the security of the last-remaining acres of his formerly
large estate. Once more provided with funds, he recommenced his
labours with all the zeal and enthusiasm of a young man. For three
years he hardly stepped out of his laboratory: he ate there, and slept
there, and did not even give himself time to wash his hands and clean
his beard, so intense was his application. It is melancholy to think
that such wonderful perseverance should have been wasted in so vain a
pursuit, and that energies so unconquerable should have had no
worthier field to strive in. Even when he had fumed away his last
coin, and had nothing left in prospective to keep his old age from
starvation, hope never forsook him. He still dreamed of ultimate
success, and sat down a greyheaded man of eighty, to read over all the
authors on the hermetic mysteries, from Geber to his own day, lest he
should have misunderstood some process, which it was not yet too late
to recommence. The alchymists say, that he succeeded at last, and
discovered the secret of transmutation in his eighty-second year. They
add, that he lived three years afterwards to enjoy his wealth. He
lived, it is true, to this great age, and made a valuable discovery -
more valuable than gold or gems. He learned, as he himself informs us,
just before he had attained his eighty-third year, that the great
secret of philosophy was contentment with our lot. Happy would it have
been for him if he had discovered it sooner, and before he became
decrepit, a beggar, and an exile!

He died at Rhodes, in the year 1490, and all the alchymists of
Europe sang elegies over him, and sounded his praise as the "good
Trevisan." He wrote several treatises upon his chimera, the chief of
which are, the "Book of Chemistry," the "Verbum dimissum," and an
essay "De Natura Ovi."

TRITHEMIUS.

The name of this eminent man has become famous in the annals of
alchymy, although he did but little to gain so questionable an honour.
He was born in the year 1462, at the village of Trittheim, in the
electorate of Treves. His father was John Heidenberg, a vine-grower,
in easy circumstances, who, dying when his son was but seven years
old, left him to the care of his mother. The latter married again very
shortly afterwards, and neglected the poor boy, the offspring of her
first marriage. At the age of fifteen he did not even know his
letters, and was, besides, half starved, and otherwise ill-treated by
his step-father; but the love of knowledge germinated in the breast of
the unfortunate youth, and he learned to read at the house of a
neighbour. His father-in-law set him to work in the vineyards, and
thus occupied all his days; but the nights were his own. He often
stole out unheeded, when all the household were fast asleep, poring
over his studies in the fields, by the light of the moon; and thus
taught himself Latin and the rudiments of Greek. He was subjected to
so much ill-usage at home, in consequence of this love of study, that
he determined to leave it. Demanding the patrimony which his father
had left him, he proceeded to Treves; and, assuming the name of
Trithemius, from that of his native village of Trittheim, lived there
for some months, under the tuition of eminent masters, by whom he was
prepared for the university. At the age of twenty, he took it into his
head that he should like to see his mother once more; and he set out
on foot from the distant university for that purpose. On his arrival
near Spannheim, late in the evening of a gloomy winter's day, it came
on to snow so thickly, that he could not proceed onwards to the town.
He, therefore, took refuge for the night in a neighbouring monastery;
but the storm continued several days, the roads became impassable, and
the hospitable monks would not hear of his departure. He was so
pleased with them and their manner of life, that he suddenly resolved
to fix his abode among them, and renounce the world. They were no less
pleased with him, and gladly received him as a brother. In the course
of two years, although still so young, he was unanimously elected
their Abbot. The financial affairs of the establishment had been
greatly neglected, the walls of the building were falling into ruin,
and everything was in disorder. Trithemius, by his good management and
regularity, introduced a reform in every branch of expenditure. The
monastery was repaired, and a yearly surplus, instead of a deficiency,
rewarded him for his pains. He did not like to see the monks idle, or
occupied solely between prayers for their business, and chess for
their relaxation. He, therefore, set them to work to copy the writings
of eminent authors. They laboured so assiduously, that, in the course
of a few years, their library, which had contained only about forty
volumes, was enriched with several hundred valuable manuscripts,
comprising many of the classical Latin authors, besides the works of
the early fathers, and the principal historians and philosophers of
more modern date. He retained the dignity of Abbot of Spannheim for
twenty-one years, when the monks, tired of the severe discipline he
maintained, revolted against him, and chose another abbot in his
place. He was afterwards made Abbot of St. James, in Wurtzburg, where
he died in 1516.

During his learned leisure at Spannheim, he wrote several works
upon the occult sciences, the chief of which are an essay on geomancy,
or divination by means of lines and circles on the ground; another
upon sorcery; a third upon alchymy; and a fourth upon the government
of the world by its presiding angels, which was translated into
English, and published by the famous William Lilly in 1647.

It has been alleged by the believers in the possibility of
transmutation, that the prosperity of the abbey of Spannheim, while
under his superintendence, was owing more to the philosopher's stone
than to wise economy. Trithemius, in common with many other learned
men, has been accused of magic; and a marvellous story is told of his
having raised from the grave the form of Mary of Burgundy, at the
intercession of her widowed husband, the Emperor Maximilian. His work
on steganographia, or cabalistic writing, was denounced to the Count
Palatine, Frederic II, as magical and devilish; and it was by him
taken from the shelves of his library and thrown into the fire.
Trithemius is said to be the first writer who makes mention of the
wonderful story of the devil and Dr. Faustus, the truth of which he
firmly believed. He also recounts the freaks of a spirit, named
Hudekin, by whom he was at times tormented. [Biographie Universelle]

THE MARECHAL DE RAYS.

One of the greatest encouragers of alchymy in the fifteenth
century was Gilles de Laval, Lord of Rays and a Marshal of France. His
name and deeds are little known; but in the annals of crime and folly,
they might claim the highest and worst pro-eminence. Fiction has never
invented anything wilder or more horrible than his career; and were
not the details but too well authenticated by legal and other
documents which admit no doubt, the lover of romance might easily
imagine they were drawn to please him from the stores of the prolific
brain, and not from the page of history.

He was born about the year 1420, of one of the noblest families of
Brittany. His father dying when Gilles had attained his twentieth
year, he came into uncontrolled possession, at that early age, of a
fortune which the monarchs of France might have envied him. He was a
near kinsman of the Montmorencys, the Roncys, and the Craons;
possessed fifteen princely domains, and had an annual revenue of about
three hundred thousand livres. Besides this, he was handsome, learned,
and brave. He distinguished himself greatly in the wars of Charles
VII, and was rewarded by that monarch with the dignity of a marshal of
France. But he was extravagant and magnificent in his style of living,
and accustomed from his earliest years to the gratification of every
wish and passion; and this, at last, led him from vice to vice, and
from crime to crime, till a blacker name than his is not to be found
in any record of human iniquity.

In his castle of Champtoce, he lived with all the splendour of an
Eastern Caliph. He kept up a troop of two hundred horsemen to
accompany him wherever he went; and his excursions for the purposes of
hawking and hunting were the wonder of all the country around, so
magnificent were the caparisons of his steeds and the dresses of his
retainers. Day and night, his castle was open all the year round to
comers of every degree. He made it a rule to regale even the poorest
beggar with wine and hippocrass. Every day an ox was roasted whole in
his spacious kitchens, besides sheep, pigs, and poultry sufficient to
feed five hundred persons. He was equally magnificent in his
devotions. His private chapel at Champtoce was the most beautiful in
France, and far surpassed any of those in the richly-endowed
cathedrals of Notre Dame in Paris, of Amiens, of Beauvais, or of
Rouen. It was hung with cloth of gold and rich velvet. All the
chandeliers were of pure gold, curiously inlaid with silver. The great
crucifix over the altar was of solid silver, and the chalices and
incense-burners were of pure gold. He had, besides, a fine organ,
which he caused to be carried from one castle to another, on the
shoulders of six men, whenever he changed his residence. He kept up a
choir of twenty-five young children of both sexes, who were instructed
in singing by the first musicians of the day. The master of his chapel
he called a bishop, who had under him his deans, archdeacons, and
vicars, each receiving great salaries; the bishop four hundred crowns
a year, and the rest in proportion.

He also maintained a whole troop of players, including ten
dancing-girls and as many ballad-singers, besides morris-dancers,
jugglers, and mountebanks of every description. The theatre on which
they performed was fitted up without any regard to expense; and they
played mysteries, or danced the morris-dance, every evening, for the
amusement of himself and household, and such strangers as were sharing
his prodigal hospitality.

At the age of twenty-three, he married Catherine, the wealthy
heiress of the house of Touars, for whom he refurnished his castle at
an expense of a hundred thousand crowns. His marriage was the signal
for new extravagance, and he launched out more madly than ever he had
done before; sending for fine singers or celebrated dancers from
foreign countries to amuse him and his spouse, and instituting tilts
and tournaments in his great court-yard almost every week for all the
knights and nobles of the province of Brittany. The Duke of Brittany's
court was not half so splendid as that of the Marechal de Rays. His
utter disregard of wealth was so well known that he was made to pay
three times its value for everything he purchased. His castle was
filled with needy parasites and panderers to his pleasures, amongst
whom he lavished rewards with an unsparing hand. But the ordinary
round of sensual gratification ceased at last to afford him delight:
he was observed to be more abstemious in the pleasures of the table,
and to neglect the beauteous dancing-girls who used formerly to occupy
so much of his attention. He was sometimes gloomy and reserved; and
there was an unnatural wildness in his eye which gave indications of
incipient madness. Still, his discourse was as reasonable as ever; his
urbanity to the guests that flocked from far and near to Champtoce
suffered no diminution; and learned priests, when they conversed with
him, thought to themselves that few of the nobles of France were so
well-informed as Gilles de Laval. But dark rumours spread gradually
over the country; murder, and, if possible, still more atrocious deeds
were hinted at; and it was remarked that many young children, of both
sexes, suddenly disappeared, and were never afterwards heard of. One
or two had been traced to the castle of Champtoce, and had never been
seen to leave it; but no one dared to accuse openly so powerful a man
as the Marechal de Rays. Whenever the subject of the lost children was
mentioned in his presence, he manifested the greatest astonishment at
the mystery which involved their fate, and indignation against those
who might be guilty of kidnapping them. Still the world was not wholly
deceived; his name became as formidable to young children as that of
the devouring ogre in fairy tales; and they were taught to go miles
round, rather than pass under the turrets of Champtoce.

In the course of a very few years, the reckless extravagance of
the Marshal drained him of all his funds, and he was obliged to put up
some of his estates for sale. The Duke of Brittany entered into a
treaty with him for the valuable seignory of Ingrande; but the heirs
of Gilles implored the interference of Charles VII. to stay the sale.
Charles immediately issued an edict, which was confirmed by the
Provincial Parliament of Brittany, forbidding him to alienate his
paternal estates. Gilles had no alternative but to submit. He had
nothing to support his extravagance but his allowance as a Marshal of
France, which did not cover the one-tenth of his expenses. A man of
his habits and character could not retrench his wasteful expenditure
and live reasonably; he could not dismiss without a pang his horsemen,
his jesters, his morris-dancers, his choristers, and his parasites, or
confine his hospitality to those who really needed it. Notwithstanding
his diminished resources, he resolved to live as he had lived before,
and turn alchymist, that he might make gold out of iron, and be still
the wealthiest and most magnificent among the nobles of Brittany.

In pursuance of this determination he sent to Paris, Italy,
Germany, and Spain, inviting all the adepts in the science to visit
him at Champtoce. The messengers he despatched on this mission were
two of his most needy and unprincipled dependants, Gilles de Sille and
Roger de Bricqueville. The latter, the obsequious panderer to his most
secret and abominable pleasures, he had intrusted with the education
of his motherless daughter, a child but five years of age, with
permission, that he might marry her at the proper time to any person
he chose, or to himself if he liked it better. This man entered into
the new plans of his master with great zeal, and introduced to him one
Prelati, an alchymist of Padua, and a physician of Poitou, who was
addicted to the same pursuits. The Marshal caused a splendid
laboratory to be fitted up for them, and the three commenced the
search for the philosopher's stone. They were soon afterwards joined
by another pretended philosopher, named Anthony of Palermo, who aided
in their operations for upwards of a year. They all fared sumptuously
at the Marshal's expense, draining him of the ready money he
possessed, and leading him on from day to day with the hope that they
would succeed in the object of their search. From time to time new
aspirants from the remotest parts of Europe arrived at his castle, and
for months he had upwards of twenty alchymists at work - trying to
transmute copper into gold, and wasting the gold, which was still his
own, in drugs and elixirs.

But the Lord of Rays was not a man to abide patiently their
lingering processes. Pleased with their comfortable quarters, they
jogged on from day to day, and would have done so for years, had they
been permitted. But he suddenly dismissed them all, with the exception
of the Italian Prelati, and the physician of Poitou. These he retained
to aid him to discover the secret of the philosopher's stone by a
bolder method. The Poitousan had persuaded him that the devil was the
great depositary of that and all other secrets, and that he would
raise him before Gilles, who might enter into any contract he pleased
with him. Gilles expressed his readiness, and promised to give the
devil anything but his soul, or do any deed that the arch-enemy might
impose upon him. Attended solely by the physician, he proceeded at
midnight to a wild-looking place in a neighbouring forest; the
physician drew a magic circle around them on the sward, and muttered
for half an hour an invocation to the Evil Spirit to arise at his
bidding, and disclose the secrets of alchymy. Gilles looked on with
intense interest, and expected every moment to see the earth open, and
deliver to his gaze the great enemy of mankind. At last the eyes of
the physician became fixed, his hair stood on end, and he spoke, as if
addressing the fiend. But Gilles saw nothing except his companion. At
last the physician fell down on the sward as if insensible. Gilles
looked calmly on to see the end. After a few minutes the physician
arose, and asked him if he had not seen how angry the devil looked?
Gilles replied, that he had seen nothing; upon which his companion
informed him that Beelzebub had appeared in the form of a wild
leopard, growled at him savagely, and said nothing; and that the
reason why the Marshal had neither seen nor heard him, was that he
hesitated in his own mind as to devoting himself entirely to the
service. De Rays owned that he had indeed misgivings, and inquired
what was to be done to make the devil speak out, and unfold his
secret? The physician replied, that some person must go to Spain and
Africa to collect certain herbs which only grew in those countries,
and offered to go himself, if De Rays would provide the necessary
funds. De Rays at once consented; and the physician set out on the
following day with all the gold that his dupe could spare him. The
Marshal never saw his face again.

But the eager Lord of Champtoce could not rest. Gold was necessary
for his pleasures; and unless, by supernatural aid, he had no means of
procuring many further supplies. The physician was hardly twenty
leagues on his journey, before Gilles resolved to make another effort
to force the devil to divulge the art of gold making. He went out
alone for that purpose, but all his conjurations were of no effect.
Beelzebub was obstinate, and would not appear. Determined to conquer
him if he could, he unbosomed himself to the Italian alchymist,
Prelati. The latter offered to undertake the business, upon condition
that De Rays did not interfere in the conjurations, and consented
besides to furnish him with all the charms and talismans that might be
required. He was further to open a vein in his arm, and sign with his
blood a contract that he would work the devil's will in all things,
and offer up to him a sacrifice of the heart, lungs, hands, eyes, and
blood of a young child. The grasping monomaniac made no hesitation;
but agreed at once to the disgusting terms proposed to him. On the
following night, Prelati went out alone; and after having been absent
for three or four hours, returned to Gilles, who sat anxiously
awaiting him. Prelati then informed him that he had seen the devil in
the shape of a handsome youth of twenty. He further said, that the
devil desired to be called Barron in all future invocations; and had
shown him a great number of ingots of pure gold, buried under a large
oak in the neighbouring forest, all of which, and as many more as he
desired, should become the property of the Marechal de Rays if he
remained firm, and broke no condition of the contract. Prelati further
showed him a small casket of black dust, which would turn iron into
gold; but as the process was very troublesome, he advised that they
should be contented with the ingots they found under the oak tree, and
which would more than supply all the wants that the most extravagant
imagination could desire. They were not, however, to attempt to look
for the gold till a period of seven times seven weeks, or they would
find nothing but slates and stones for their pains. Gilles expressed
the utmost chagrin and disappointment, and at once said that he could
not wait for so long a period; if the devil were not more prompt,
Prelati might tell him, that the Marechal de Rays was not to be
trifled with, and would decline all further communication with him.
Prelati at last persuaded him to wait seven times seven days. They
then went at midnight with picks and shovels to dig up the ground
under the oak, where they found nothing to reward them but a great
quantity of slates, marked with hieroglyphics. It was now Prelati's
turn to be angry; and he loudly swore that the devil was nothing but a
liar and a cheat. The Marshal joined cordially in the opinion, but was
easily persuaded by the cunning Italian to make one more trial. He
promised at the same time that he would endeavour, on the following
night, to discover the reason why the devil had broken his word. He
went out alone accordingly, and on his return informed his patron that
he had seen Barron, who was exceedingly angry that they had not waited
the proper time ere they looked for the ingots. Barron had also said,
that the Marechal de Rays could hardly expect any favours from him, at
a time when he must know that he had been meditating a pilgrimage to
the Holy Land, to make atonement for his sins. The Italian had
doubtless surmised this, from some incautious expression of his
patron, for De Rays frankly confessed that there were times when, sick
of the world and all its pomps and vanities, he thought of devoting
himself to the service of God.

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