Count Saint Germain: A man who knows everything and who never dies

Count Saint Germain: A man who knows everything and who never dies

Count Saint Germain was a confidant of two kings of France, a dazzlingly rich and gifted social figure, the subject of a thousand rumors — but no one knows to this day where or when he was born, who he was, or when he died. A few believe that he still lives.

It has been supposed that Saint-Germain was the natural son of the widow of Charles II of Spain, although theosophists have made a good case for his being the son of Francis Racoczi II, the prince of Transylvania. Either genealogy would place the year of his birth at about 1690. The musician Jean-Philippe Rameau was certain, however, that he had met the count in 1710, under the name of the Marquis de Montferrat, and stated that he appeared to be in his forties at the time.

The life of the self-styled count is as shadowy as his origin. He seems to have become a celebrity in the 1750s as a friend of Louis XV and his mistress Madame de Pompadour, who together spent evenings with him simply for the pleasure of his conversation. Not only was he remarkably knowledgeable, but he had other attributes—artistry as a violinist, talent as a painter, skill in alchemy and chemistry, and a largesse with precious stones.

He was known to carry jewels sewn into his clothing and was said to have presented a cross ornamented with gems to a woman he scarcely knew, because she had idly admired it. The count claimed that he had learned how to turn several small diamonds into one large one and to make pearls grow to spectacular size. It was widely suspected that he also knew the secret for making gold out of base metal.

Whether he was a genius or a charlatan, Saint-Germain had the talent to make himself noticed and the subject of gossip. But in Versailles and Paris he was embraced as the confidential adviser of Louis XV. The position earned him the envy and enmity of the kings ministers, who denounced him as an adventurer with a smooth line of talk. Matters came to a head in 1760, when the count—at the behest of the king—involved himself in foreign affairs, going behind the back of the ministry. Threatened with arrest, he was obliged to flee to England, where he stayed for a while, possibly for a period of two years.

From England Count Saint-Germain apparently went to Russia, where—it is claimed—he took part in a conspiracy that put Catherine the Great upon the throne in 1762. After that nothing much is known of the count until 1774, when Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette came to the throne.

Saint-Germain: The Immortal Count

Count Saint-Germain, whose longevity and young appearance made him seem immortal, was described as “A man who knows everything and who never dies” by his contemporary Voltaire. Some thought the count had found the “Elixir of Youth ”

Saint-Germain now returned to France. It is said that he warned the royal couple of the revolution then 15 years in the future, saying, “There will be a blood-thirsty republic, whose scepter will be the executioner s knife.” On the other hand, he consorted with many whose dabbling in the occult was actually a cover for revolutionary activities, and his real political leanings—if he had any—are still debated.

Secret societies were the fashion in prerevolutionary France, and some of them recognized Saint-Germain as an “adept,” one who knew the ancient wisdoms hinted at in the rites of the Freemasons, Rosicrucians, and Knights Templars. And it was no wonder. In relating events of centuries past, the count would deliberately lead credulous listeners to believe that he had been present. “These fools of Parisians believe that I am five hundred years old,” he once remarked to a friend. “I confirm them in this idea because I see that it gives them much pleasure—not that I am not infinitely older than I appear.” He attributed his youthful appearance in part to his abstemiousness and a diet that consisted principally of oatmeal.

Later he lived in Germany as a protégé of Prince Charles of Hesse-Kassel. Close friends, they worked together at alchemy. Most reference works say that the count died at the prince’s court on February 27, 1784. According to Maurice Magre, author of Magicians, Seers, and Mystics (1932), Prince Charles was uncommunicative about his friend's death “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.”

Many continued to insist that the count was very much alive. Documents of the Freemasons indicate that he represented French Masons at a meeting in 1785. Madame de Genlis claimed to have seen him in Vienna in 1821. Several travelers in the 1800 s were sure they saw him in the Far East and other parts of the world. Theosophist Annie Besant said that she met the count in 1896, incarnated as a “Master,” or spiritual leader. Finally, in 1972, a Frenchman named Richard Chanfray claimed to be Saint-Germain, and to prove it, he appeared on television to demonstrate that he could turn lead into gold as the legendary count was believed to have done.

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Sacred Saturday: Walking around to the other side of the horses --- Benjamin Bathurst's Story

Age of Wisdom Alphonse Mucha 1936 - 1938

In 1809 England sought to persuade Austria to join the confederation opposing Napoleon. Benjamin Bathurst, a 25-year-old diplomat who had already distinguished himself in foreign service, went to Vienna to promise an attack on the French who were occupying Spain in return for Austria’s alignment with England. It proved a bad bargain: Napoleon was victorious at Wagram on the Danube River, and Austria was forced to cede territory to him.

That fall, Bathurst began to make his way back home through Germany. On November 25, traveling under the name of Koch and posing as a wealthy merchant, he and his secretary and valet stopped at an inn in Perleberg. A witness at the inn reported that he seemed very nervous. He asked the commander of the local garrison to provide armed guards against mysterious pursuers - perhaps agents of Napoleon.

Benjamin Bathurst, a British envoy sent on a secret mission to Austria in 1809, was on his way back to England when he vanished forever in a small German town. The distinguished young diplomat, who was traveling incognito, may have been trailed and assassinated by French soldiers. In the middle of the evening, as his coach was preparing to leave, Bathurst went out into the otherwise deserted street, walked around his horses...

And was gone.

His valet, who had been at the rear of the coach with the baggage, cast a look down each side of the coach and saw only the hostler who had harnessed the horses. His secretary, standing in the doorway of the inn to pay the bill, had not seen him return. The soldiers stationed at each end of the street had seen no one pass.

The authorities searched first the inn and then all of Perleberg. Inquiries from the British Foreign Office brought a denial from Napoleon that his agents had been involved. Stories circulated that Bathurst had been robbed and murdered, that he had secretly gone on to a port and been lost at sea, and so on — but all that is known about Benjamin Bathurst’s disappearance from a quiet street in a small German town is summed up in the words of Charles Fort, that tireless collector of events that have no rhyme or reason:“Under observation, he walked around to the other side of the horses.”

SOURCE: (Dictionary of National Biography, Vol. 1, p.1327;Charles Fort, The Complete Books of Charles Fort, p.681; Colin Wilson, Enigmas and Mysteries, p.37)

#disappearance #mysteries #enigmas #benjaminbathurst

Fearless Friday: Charles Haskell and the history of madness at sea (A Real Life Ghost Story)

Fearless Friday: Charles Haskell and the history of madness at sea (A Real Life Ghost Story)

Between 1830 and 1892 nearly 600 ships and more than 3,000 lives were lost in the treacherous and gale-swept waters of the Grand Banks, off Newfoundland. The victims were fishermen, seeking cod in the icy shoaling grounds, and most of them drowned when their ships rammed one another as they jostled in the fierce competition for fish or were wrecked on the shoals. It was hard, nerve-wracking work, and the men who risked their lives each time they put to sea were alert to every kind of omen, good or bad, real or imagined.

In 1869 the Charles Haskell a graceful schooner built and outfitted for cod fishing, was undergoing final inspection when a workman slipped on a companion- way and broke his neck. There could not have been a worse omen than a death, and the captain who was to take the Charles Haskell to sea for her maiden voyage refused to sail in her. For a year no one would assume command of the ship; then, a Captain Curtis of Gloucester, Massachusetts, accepted the position.

During her first winter at sea — a notably harsh one—the Haskell and a fleet of some hundred other vessels were fishing off Georges Bank when a hurricane struck. In the confusion the Haskell rammed the Andrew Johnson. Both ships were badly damaged, but the Haskell managed to limp back to port; the Andrew Johnson was lost with all hands.

If the Haskell's escape seemed to belie her early, unlucky reputation, the fishermen did not believe it: the ship had been too lucky; she should have gone down with the Andrew Johnson, and it was the Devils work that she hadn’t.

Eventually the spring came, and with it better weather and excellent catches. Once more the Haskell was at sea, fishing off the Banks. On her sixth day out, the two men on midnight watch were suddenly terrified: men in oilskins streaming with water from the sea were silently climbing over the rails, their eyes staring hollows. The watch called the captain, and he and the crew saw the phantoms take up positions on the fishermen's benches and go through the motions of baiting and sinking invisible lines. Then, their task done, and in single file, the 26 dead seamen climbed back over the rail and returned to the depths of the sea.

Captain Curtis immediately turned the Haskell toward home, but another night passed before she reached the shore. Again, at midnight, dead men climbed from the sea onto her deck and played out their ghastly charade. But this time, as dawn came and the Haskell approached Gloucester harbor, they climbed overboard and formed a grim, mute procession, walking across the sea toward Salem.

That was the last voyage of the Charles Haskell, for there after not a man would crew her, and she eventually fell into decay and ruin at her mooring.

SOURCE: (Mary Bolte, Haunted New England: A Devilish View of the Yankee Past, pp. 43-46)

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