CHAPTER II

HALLUCINATIONS

A root of ambition or cupidity is found invariably beneath the fanaticism of all the sects. Christ Jesus Himself reprimanded often and severely those of His disciples who cleaved to Him, during the days of His privations and exile in His own land, with the hope that they would come into a kingdom wherein they would occupy the seats of the mighty. The more egregious the expectations are, the more they inveigle some imaginations; and people are then prepared to pay for the felicity of hope with their whole purse and indeed their whole personality. It is thus that the god Wronski ruined those imbeciles to whom he promised the Absolute; it is thus that the god Auguste Comte drew an annuity of 6000 francs at the expense of his worshippers, among whom he had distributed fantastic dignities in advance, to become realisable when his doctrine should have conquered the world. It is thus that certain mediums draw money from innumerable dupes by promising them treasures which the spirits always make away with. Some of these impostors really believe in their promises, and it is these precisely who are the most unwearying and the boldest in their intrigues. Money, miracles, prophecies, none of these fail them, because theirs is that absolute of will and action which really works wonders, so that they are magicians without knowing it.

From this point of view, that sect which may be termed the Saviours of Louis XVII belongs to the history of Magic. The mania of these people is so contagious that it draws within the circle of their belief even those who have come forward to combat them. They procure the most important and rare documents, collect the most exceptional testimonies, evoke forgotten memories, command the army of dreams, insure the apparition of angels to Martin, of blood to Rose Tamissier, of an angel in tatters to Eugène Vintras. The last history is curious on account or its extraordinary consequences, and we shall therefore recite it.

In 1839, the Saviours of Louis XVII, who had filled the almanacs with prophecies for 1840, seemed to have assumed that if the whole world could be made to expect a revolution, that revolution would not fail to be accomplished; but having no longer their prophet Martin, they set about to secure another. Some of their most zealous agents were then in Normandy, of which the pretended Louis XVII claimed to be Duke. They cast their eyes on a devout labourer, with an excitable but weak brain, and they planned the following device. They framed a letter addressed to the prince, meaning the pretender, filled it with emphatic promises concerning the reign to come, in combination with mystical expressions calculated to influence a person of feeble mentality, and then arranged that it should come into the hands of the peasant in question, who was named Eugène Vintras, under circumstances as to which he may be left to speak for himself.

“_August 6, 1839._

“Towards nine o’clock I was occupied in writing, when there was a knock at the door of the room in which I sat, and supposing that it was a workman who came on business, I said rather brusquely: ‘Come in.’ Much to my astonishment, in place of the expected workman, I saw an old man in rags. I asked merely what he wanted. He answered with much tranquillity, ‘Don’t disturb yourself, Pierre Michel.’ Now, these names are never used in addressing me, for I am known everywhere as Eugène, and even in signing documents I do not make use of my first names. I was conscious of a certain emotion at the old man’s answer, and this increased when he said: ‘I am utterly tired, and wherever I appear they treat me with disdain, or as a thief.’ The words alarmed me considerably, though they were spoken in a saddened and even a woeful tone. I arose and placed a ten sous piece in his hand, saying, ‘I do not take you for that, my good man,’ and while speaking, I made him understand that I wished to see him out. He received it in silence but turned his back with a pained air. No sooner had he set foot on the last step than I shut the door and locked it. I did not hear him go down, so I called a workman and told him to come up to my room. Under some business pretext, I was wishing him to search with me all the possible places which might conceal my old man, whom I had not seen go out. The workman came accordingly. I left the room in his company, again locking my door. I hunted through all the nooks and corners, but saw nothing.

“I was about to enter the factory when I heard on a sudden the bell ringing for mass and felt glad that, notwithstanding the disturbance, I could assist at the sacred ceremony. I ran back to my room to obtain a prayer book and, on the table where I had been writing, I found a letter addressed to Mme. de Generès in London; it was written and signed by M. Paul de Montfleury of Caen, and embodied a refutation of heresy, together with a profession of orthodox faith. The address notwithstanding, this letter was intended to place before the Duke of Normandy the most important truths of our holy Catholic, Apostolic and Roman religion. On the document was laid the ten sous piece which I had given to the old man.”

In another communication, Pierre Michel admits that the face of his visitor was not unknown to him, but that he was struck with strange fear by his sudden appearance, that he barred and barricaded the door when he went out and listened a long time, hoping to hear him go down. As Vintras heard nothing, there is no doubt that the mendicant took off his shoes so that he might descend, making no noise. Vintras ran to the window but did not see him depart, the explanation being that he had done so some time previously. Our witness, in the end, is upset, calls for help, looks everywhere, finally coming across the letter which he was meant to read, but it is for him evidently a letter fallen from heaven. Behold Vintras, devoted henceforth to Louis XVII, behold him also a visionary for the rest of his days, as the apparition of the old mendicant never quits him henceforward. Then seeing that he addressed Vintras as Pierre Michel, the latter regards him as the archangel Michael, by an association of ideas which is analogous to that of dreams.[352] The deluded supporters of Louis XVII had divined, with the second sight of maniacs, the right moment for impressing the feeble wits of Vintras so as to make him by a single experience at once an _illuminé_ and a prophet.

The sect of Louis XVII consists more especially of persons belonging to the service of the legitimate royalty, and when Vintras became their medium, he was the faithful mirror of their imaginations filled with romanesque memories and obsolete mysticism. In the visions of the new prophet there were everywhere lilies steeped in blood,[353] angels habited like knights, saints disguised as troubadours. Thereafter came hosts affixed on blue silk. Vintras had bloody sweats, his blood appeared on hosts, where it pictured hearts with inscriptions in the handwriting and spelling of Vintras; empty chalices were filled suddenly with wine, and where the wine fell the stains were like those of blood. The initiates believed that they heard delightful music and breathed unknown perfumes; priests, invited to witness the prodigies, were carried away in the current of enthusiasm. One of them, from the diocese of Tours, an old and venerable ecclesiastic, left his cure to follow the prophet.[354] We have personally seen this priest; he has narrated the marvels of Vintras with the most perfect accent of conviction; he has shewn us hosts intincted with blood in a most inexplicable manner; he has communicated to us copies of official proceedings signed by more than fifty witnesses, all honorable persons, occupying positions in the world—artists, physicians, lawyers, a Chevalier de Razac and a Duchesse d’Armaillé. Doctors have analysed the crimson fluid which flowed from the hosts and have certified that it was human blood; the very enemies of Vintras, and he has cruel enemies, do not dispute the miracles, but refer them to the devil. “Now,” said the Abbé Chavoz, the priest of Touraine whom we have mentioned, “can you tolerate the notion of the demon falsifying the blood of Christ Jesus on hosts which have been regularly consecrated?” Abbé Chavoz is a real priest, and the signs in question appeared in hosts which had been hallowed by him. This notwithstanding, the sect of Vintras is anarchic and absurd, and God would not therefore perform miracles in its favour. There remains the natural explanation of such phenomena, and in the course of the present work it has been indicated sufficiently to make further development needless.

Vintras, whom his partisans represent as a new Christ, has also had his Iscariots; two members of the sect, a certain Gozzoli and another named Alexandre Geoffroi, published the most scandalous revelations against him.[355] According to them, the devotees of Tilly-sur-Seules—which was the place of their residence—were given over to the most obscene practices; they celebrated in their private chapel, which they termed the upper chamber, sacrilegious masses, at which the elect assisted in a state of complete nudity. At a given moment all present fell into a paroxysm, and with tears and cries of “Love, Love,” they cast themselves into each other’s arms; the rest we may be permitted to suppress. It was like the orgies of the old Gnostics, but without even taking the precaution to extinguish the lights. Alexandre Geoffroi testifies that Vintras initiated him into a kind of prayer which consisted in the monstrous act of Onan, committed at the foot of the altar, but here the accuser is too odious to be believed on his own word. Abbé Chavoz, to whom we mentioned these infamous impeachments, explained that they must be attributed to the hatred of two men who had been expelled from the association for having been guilty on their own part of the acts which they attributed to Vintras. However it may be, moral disorders engender naturally those of a physical kind, and abnormal excitements of the nervous system produce almost invariably eccentric irregularities in morals: if therefore Vintras is innocent, he might have been and may yet be guilty. His sect was condemned formally by Gregory XVI in his brief, dated November 8, 1843.

We append a specimen of the style which this _illuminé_ adopted; he is a man without education and his bombastic writings swarm with grammatical errors.

“Sleep, sleep, ye indolent mortals; rest, and still rest on your soft couches; smile at your dreams of festivals and grandeurs. The angel of the covenant has come down on your mountains; he has written his name even in the cups of your flowers; the rings on his feet have touched the rivers which are your pride and hope; the oaks of your forests have borrowed the tincture of a new morning from the radiance of his brow; the sea has made answer to his glance with a yearning leap. She has gone before him; prostrate yourselves upon the earth and be not alarmed at the continuous sound heard in the graves beneath. Sleep, and still sleep. He is engraving his name on the high hills; he is calling on time to speed his ship, and I have seen the oldest of the old smile at him. Sleep therefore and sleep; Elias, in the West, sets a cross at the gate of the temple; he seals it with fire and with the steel of a dagger.”

Still the temple, and still fire and dagger. It is strange assuredly how the fools reflect one another; all fanaticisms interweave their inspirations and the prophet of Louis XVII is here an echo of the vengeance-cry of the Templars.

It is true that Vintras does not hold himself responsible for what he writes; this is how he speaks on the subject. “If my mind counted for anything in these condemned works, I should bow my head and fear would possess my soul. But the work is not my work, and I have had no concurrence therein, either by research or desire. Calm is within me; my couch knows no vigils; watches have not wearied my eyes; my sleep is pure, as when God first gave it; I can say to my God with a free heart: _Custodi animam meum et erue me: non erubescam, quoniam speravi in te_.”

Another reputed reformer, he who posed as the Messiah of prisons and the scaffold, namely, Lacenaire, with whom we do not assuredly seek to compare Vintras, wrote thus in his prison: “As a chaste and pure virgin, I wake and I sleep, ever in dreams of love. Who shall teach me the meaning of remorse?” The argument of Vintras, in order to legalise his inspiration, is not therefore conclusive, for it has also served Lacenaire, to excuse and even legitimise not only reveries but crimes.

Condemned by the Pope, the sect of Tilly-sur-Seules condemned the Pope in their turn, and Vintras, on his private warrant, constituted himself sovereign pontiff. The shape of his priestly vestments was revealed to him; he wears a golden diadem, having an Indian lingam over the forehead; he is vested in a purple robe and carries a magical sceptre terminated by a hand, the fingers of which are closed excepting the thumb and little finger, being those consecrated to Venus and Mercury, emblematic of the antique hermaphrodite, the emblem of the old ceremonial orgies and the obscene pageants of the Sabbath. So do the memories and reflections of Black Magic, transmitted by the Astral Light, connect the mysteries of India and the profane worship of Baphomet with the ecstasies of this contagious being, whose infirmary is at London, and who continues there to make proselytes and victims.[356]

The exaltation of the unfortunate prophet is by no means exempt from terrors and remorse, whatever he may have alleged to the contrary, and mournful confessions escape him from time to time. An example occurs in a letter written to one of his most intimate friends. “I am always expecting new torments. Tomorrow the Verger family will come, and I shall behold in their faces the purity of their soul manifested in their joy of spirit. It will recall my past happiness; names will be mentioned which I pronounced lovingly myself in days not far away. That which will be a delight for others will bring me new tortures. I shall sit at the table, and whilst my heart is pierced with a sword, I shall have to smile. O, if perchance those terrible words which I have heard were not eternal, I might still embrace my cruel torment. Pardon, most dear, I cannot live without loving God. Listen, if your human charity permits you, as minister of the living God; I do not protest; he whom your Master has spewed out of his mouth must be anathematised by you: On the night of Monday, being May 17 or 18, a frightful dream struck a mortal blow at soul and body alike. I was at Sainte-Paix, and there was no one in the house, though the doors were open. I had ascended hurriedly to the holy chapel and was about to open the door when I saw emblazoned thereon in characters of fire: ‘Dare not to enter this place, thou whom I have spewed from my mouth.’... I could not retreat; I fell down overcome on the first step; and you can judge of my terror when I saw on every side a vast and deep abyss, with hideous monsters therein who hailed me as their brother. The thought came to me at that moment that the holy archangel also once called me his brother. What a difference. His salutation caused my soul to leap with the most intense joy; and at theirs I writhed in convulsions similar to those which they had experienced through the power with which God endowed my cross of grace at their apparition on April 28 last.

“I tried to cling to something, so that I might not fall into the bottomless gulf. I turned to the Mother of God, the divine Mary, and called on her to help me. She was deaf to my voice. During all this time I continued writhing, leaving strips of my skin on the rugged points which bordered this terrible abyss. Suddenly whirlpools of flame rose towards me from that depth wherein I was about to fall. I heard yells of ferocious joy and could pray no longer, when a voice more terrific than long echoes of thunder in a violent tempest filled my ears, uttering these words: ‘You think to overcome me but it is you who are conquered. I have taught you to be humble after my manner. Come, taste of my sweetness; be numbered among my elect, and learn also to know the tyrant of heaven; join with us in uttering blasphemies and imprecations against him; all else is useless, so far as you are concerned.’ Then after a scream of laughter the voice added: ‘Behold Mary, her whom you called your shield against us; behold her gracious smile and listen to her gentle voice.’

“Dear friend, I saw her above the abyss; her eyes of celestial blue were filled with fire, her red lips were violet, her mild and divine voice had become hard and terrible, and like thunderbolt she hurled these words at me: ‘Writhe, proud one, in those fiery regions inhabited by demons.’

“All my blood flowed back to my heart; it seemed that the hour had struck wherein an earthly hell was to replace the hell that is eternal; I could still utter a few words of the _Ave, Maria_. How the time passed I knew not, but on returning the servant was asleep and said that it was late. O, if only I revealed to the enemies of the Work of Mercy that which passes within me, would they not cry victory? They would say that here indeed was evidence of monomania. Would God that it were so, for I should have less to lament. And yet fear nothing; if God will not hear my voice when it pleads my own cause, I will pray Him to double my sufferings, on condition that he hides them from my enemies.”

Here triumphant hallucination reaches the point of the sublime; Vintras consents to be damned, provided he is not classed as a fool. It is the last instinct of reason’s inestimable value, surviving reason itself. The drunken man is afraid only of being regarded as drunk; the monomaniac chooses death rather than admit his delirium. The explanation is that, according to the beautiful sentence of Cebes, already quoted, there is only one good desirable for man; it is that wisdom which is the practice of reason: there is also one only true and supreme misfortune to dread, which is madness.

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