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 Maréchal de Rays. His utter disregard for wealth was so well known,
that he was made to pay three times its value for every thing 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 Champtocé
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 Champtocé, and had never been seen to leave it;
but no one dared to accuse openly so powerful a man as the Maréchal 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 Champtocé.
In the course of a 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 Champtocé.
The messengers he despatched on this mission were two of his most needy
and unprincipled dependants, Gilles de Sillé and Roger de Bricqueville.
The latter, the obsequious panderer to his most secret and abominable
pleasures, he had entrusted 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 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 depository 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 any thing 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 Champtocé could not rest. Gold was necessary for his
pleasures; and unless by supernatural aid, he had no means of procuring
any 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 shewn 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 Maréchal de Rays if he remained firm, and broke
no condition of the contract. Prelati further shewed 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 Maréchal 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 Maréchal 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.
In this manner the Italian lured on from month to month his credulous and
guilty patron, extracting from him all the valuables he possessed, and
only waiting a favourable opportunity to decamp with his plunder. But the
day of retribution was at hand for both. Young girls and boys continued to
disappear in the most mysterious manner; and the rumours against the owner
of Champtocé grew so loud and distinct, that the Church was compelled to
interfere. Representations were made by the Bishop of Nantes to the Duke
of Brittany, that it would be a public scandal if the accusations against
the Maréchal de Rays were not inquired into. He was arrested accordingly
in his own castle, along with his accomplice Prelati, and thrown into a
dungeon at Nantes to await his trial.
The judges appointed to try him were the Bishop of Nantes Chancellor of
Brittany, the Vicar of the Inquisition in France, and the celebrated
Pierre l'Hôpital, the President of the provincial Parliament. The offences
laid to his charge were, sorcery, sodomy, and murder. Gilles, on the first
day of his trial, conducted himself with the utmost insolence. He braved
the judges on the judgment-seat, calling them simoniacs and persons of
impure life, and said he would rather be hanged by the neck like a dog
without trial, than plead either guilty or not guilty before such
contemptible miscreants. But his confidence forsook him as the trial
proceeded, and he was found guilty on the clearest evidence of all the
crimes laid to his charge. It was proved that he took insane pleasure in
stabbing the victims of his lust and in observing the quivering of their
flesh, and the fading lustre of their eyes as they expired. The confession
of Prelati first made the judges acquainted with this horrid madness, and
Gilles himself confirmed it before his death. Nearly a hundred children of
the villagers around his two castles of Champtocé and Machecoue, had been
missed within three years, the greater part, if not all, of whom were
immolated to the lust or the cupidity of this monster. He imagined that he
thus made the devil his friend, and that his recompense would be the
secret of the philosopher's stone.
Gilles and Prelati were both condemned to be burned alive. At the place of
execution they assumed the air of penitence and religion. Gilles tenderly
embraced Prelati, saying, "_Farewell, friend Francis! In this world we
shall never meet again; but let us place our hopes in God; we shall see
each other in Paradise_." Out of consideration for his high rank and
connexions, the punishment of the marshal was so far mitigated, that he
was not burned alive like Prelati. He was first strangled, and then thrown
into the flames: his body, when half consumed, was given over to his
relatives for interment, while that of the Italian was burned to ashes,
and then scattered to the winds.[39]
[39] For full details of this extraordinary trial, see Lobineau's
_Nouvelle Histoire de Bretagne_, and D'Argentré's work on the
same subject. The character and life of Gilles de Rays are
believed to have suggested the famous Blue Beard of the
nursery tale.
JACQUES COEUR.
This remarkable pretender to the secret of the philosopher's stone was
contemporary with the last mentioned. He was a great personage at the
court of Charles VII., and in the events of his reign played a prominent
part. From a very humble origin he rose to the highest honours of the
state, and amassed enormous wealth by peculation and plunder of the
country which he should have served. It was to hide his delinquencies in
this respect, and to divert attention from the real source of his riches,
that he boasted of having discovered the art of transmuting the inferior
metals into gold and silver.
His father was a goldsmith in the city of Bourges; but so reduced in
circumstances towards the latter years of his life, that he was unable to
pay the necessary fees to procure his son's admission into the guild.
Young Jacques became, however, a workman in the Royal Mint of Bourges, in
1428, and behaved himself so well, and shewed so much knowledge of
metallurgy, that he attained rapid promotion in that establishment. He had
also the good fortune to make the acquaintance of the fair Agnes Sorel, by
whom he was patronised and much esteemed. Jacques had now three things in
his favour--ability, perseverance, and the countenance of the king's
mistress. Many a man succeeds with but one of these to help him forward;
and it would have been strange indeed if Jacques Coeur, who had them all,
should have languished in obscurity. While still a young man, he was made
master of the mint, in which he had been a journeyman, and installed at
the same time into the vacant office of grand treasurer of the royal
household.
He possessed an extensive knowledge of finance, and turned it wonderfully
to his own advantage, as soon as he became entrusted with extensive funds.
He speculated in articles of the first necessity, and made himself popular
by buying up grain, honey, wines, and other produce, till there was a
scarcity, when he sold it again at enormous profit. Strong in the royal
favour, he did not hesitate to oppress the poor by continual acts of
forestalling and monopoly. As there is no enemy so bitter as the estranged
friend, so of all the tyrants and tramplers upon the poor, there is none
so fierce and reckless as the upstart that sprang from their ranks. The
offensive pride of Jacques Coeur to his inferiors was the theme of
indignant reproach in his own city, and his cringing humility to those
above him was as much an object of contempt to the aristocrats into whose
society he thrust himself. But Jacques did not care for the former, and to
the latter he was blind. He continued his career till he became the
richest man in France, and so useful to the king that no important
enterprise was set on foot until he had been consulted. He was sent, in
1446, on an embassy to Genoa, and in the following year to Pope Nicholas
V. In both these missions he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his
sovereign, and was rewarded with a lucrative appointment, in addition to
those which he already held.
In the year 1449, the English in Normandy, deprived of their great
general, the Duke of Bedford, broke the truce with the French king, and
took possession of a small town belonging to the Duke of Brittany. This
was the signal for the recommencement of a war, in which the French
regained possession of nearly the whole province. The money for this war
was advanced, for the most part, by Jacques Coeur. When Rouen yielded to
the French, and Charles made his triumphal entry into that city,
accompanied by Dunois and his most famous generals, Jacques was among the
most brilliant of his _cortège_. His chariot and horses vied with those of
the king in the magnificence of their trappings; and his enemies said of
him that he publicly boasted that he alone had driven out the English, and
that the valour of the troops would have been nothing without his gold.
Dunois appears, also, to have been partly of the same opinion. Without
disparaging the courage of the army, he acknowledged the utility of the
able financier, by whose means they had been fed and paid, and constantly
afforded him his powerful protection.
When peace returned, Jacques again devoted himself to commerce, and fitted
up several galleys to trade with the Genoese. He also bought large estates
in various parts of France; the chief of which were the baronies of St.
Fargeau, Meneton, Salone, Maubranche, Meaune, St. Gerant de Vaux, and St.
Aon de Boissy; the earldoms or counties of La Palisse, Champignelle,
Beaumont, and Villeneuve la Genêt, and the marquisate of Toucy. He also
procured for his son, Jean Coeur, who had chosen the Church for his
profession, a post no less distinguished than that of Archbishop of
Bourges.
Every body said that so much wealth could not have been honestly acquired;
and both rich and poor longed for the day that should humble the pride of
the man, whom the one class regarded as an upstart and the other as an
oppressor. Jacques was somewhat alarmed at the rumours that were afloat
respecting him, and of dark hints that he had debased the coin of the
realm and forged the king's seal to an important document, by which he had
defrauded the state of very considerable sums. To silence these rumours,
he invited many alchymists from foreign countries to reside with him, and
circulated a counter rumour, that he had discovered the secret of the
philosopher's stone. He also built a magnificent house in his native city,
over the entrance of which he caused to be sculptured the emblems of that
science. Some time afterwards he built another, no less splendid, at
Montpellier, which he inscribed in a similar manner. He also wrote a
treatise upon the hermetic philosophy, in which he pretended that he knew
the secret of transmuting metals.
[Illustration: HOUSE OF JACQUES COEUR, BOURGES.]
But all these attempts to disguise his numerous acts of peculation proved
unavailing; and he was arrested in 1452, and brought to trial on several
charges. Upon one only, which the malice of his enemies invented to ruin
him, was he acquitted; which was, that he had been accessory to the death,
by poison, of his kind patroness, Agnes Sorel. Upon the others he was
found guilty, and sentenced to be banished the kingdom, and to pay the
enormous fine of four hundred thousand crowns. It was proved that he had
forged the king's seal; that in his capacity of master of the mint of
Bourges, he had debased, to a very great extent, the gold and silver coin
of the realm; and that he had not hesitated to supply the Turks with arms
and money to enable them to carry on war against their Christian
neighbours, for which service he had received the most munificent
recompenses. Charles VII. was deeply grieved at his condemnation, and
believed to the last that he was innocent. By his means the fine was
reduced within a sum which Jacques Coeur could pay. After remaining for
some time in prison, he was liberated, and left France with a large sum of
money, part of which, it was alleged, was secretly paid him by Charles out
of the produce of his confiscated estates. He retired to Cyprus, where he
died about 1460, the richest and most conspicuous personage of the island.
The writers upon alchymy all claim Jacques Coeur as a member of their
fraternity, and treat as false and libellous the more rational explanation
of his wealth which the records of his trial afford. Pierre Borel, in his
_Antiquités Gauloises_, maintains the opinion that Jacques was an honest
man, and that he made his gold out of lead and copper by means of the
philosopher's stone. The alchymic adepts in general were of the same
opinion; but they found it difficult to persuade even his contemporaries
of the fact. Posterity is still less likely to believe it.
INFERIOR ADEPTS OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES.
Many other pretenders to the secrets of the philosopher's stone appeared
in every country in Europe, during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
The possibility of transmutation was so generally admitted, that every
chemist was more or less an alchymist. Germany, Holland, Italy, Spain,
Poland, France, and England produced thousands of obscure adepts, who
supported themselves, in the pursuit of their chimera, by the more
profitable resources of astrology and divination. The monarchs of Europe
were no less persuaded than their subjects of the possibility of
discovering the philosopher's stone. Henry VI. and Edward IV. of England
encouraged alchymy. In Germany, the Emperors Maximilian, Rudolph, and
Frederic II. devoted much of their attention to it; and every inferior
potentate within their dominions imitated their example. It was a common
practice in Germany, among the nobles and petty sovereigns, to invite an
alchymist to take up his residence among them, that they might confine him
in a dungeon till he made gold enough to pay millions for his ransom. Many
poor wretches suffered perpetual imprisonment in consequence. A similar
fate appears to have been intended by Edward II. for Raymond Lulli, who,
upon the pretence that he was thereby honoured, was accommodated with
apartments in the Tower of London. He found out in time the trick that was
about to be played him, and managed to make his escape; some of his
biographers say, by jumping into the Thames, and swimming to a vessel that
lay waiting to receive him. In the sixteenth century, the same system was
pursued, as will be shewn more fully in the life of Seton the Cosmopolite.