this purpose, he profited very cleverly by the mystery that surrounded his birth, the possession of some chemical secrets, and the very rare advantage of retaining for many years that appearance of vigour which led to the belief that his exterior always remained the same; a fact which may possibly be explained by the employment of certain cosmetics, the secret of which his chymical researches had supplied. It is possible, moreover, that during his repeated journeys through Europe, this man, who was not restrained by any regard for social position, might have been employed in secret intrigues that constantly extended his sphere of action. He seems also never to have aimed at exercising lasting influence, and to have been exceedingly modest in his pretensions.
He was of middle height, and powerfully built; and, indeed, retained the most robust appearance for a long time. Ramon, envoy from France to Venice, asserted that he knew him in that city in 1710, as a man who appeared of about fifty years of age. In 1759, he was assumed to be sixty; and Morin, Secretary to the Danish Legation, who made his acquaintance in Holland in 1735, asserted five-and-twenty years later that he did not then appear a year older. In Schleswig, he retained to the last moment the appearance of a “well conserved” man of sixty. If all this be exact, he possessed either rare good fortune or great skill. Possibly, though, the Venetian St. Germain of 1710 was not the same; and, if this hypothesis is admitted, there would be nothing extraordinary in what we are told on this subject.
It is certain, however, that he sought to make persons believe that he had attained an extraordinary age; and he employed for this purpose various artifices, though he never made any positive assertions. Still, we must remark, in his defence, that he never went so far, as has been said, as to assert that he was a contemporary of Pontius Pilate, to whom he had rendered certain services, or boast of the efforts he had made at the Council of Nicea to promote the canonisation of St. Anne. These stories emanate from a mystification which was carried on far too long, and practised by a Parisian joker of the day, who possessed a peculiar talent for counterfeiting people, and who was eventually surnamed “My Lord Gower,” because he mainly exercised his talent at the expense of newly-landed Englishmen. This individual was introduced to circles where St. Germain was unknown, and he was passed for the latter, and exaggerated his part, though he did not meet with less credulity on that account. Still, it is true that St. Germain credited himself with several centuries of life: if he were speaking with a weak-minded person, of events that occurred in the reign of Charles V., he would confide to him quite naturally that he was present at them; but if he had to do with a less credulous person, he contented himself with describing the slightest details with such vivacity and minuteness, and even the chairs and seats the actors occupied, that his hearer must fancy he was listening to a man who had really been witness of the facts he narrated.
At times, for instance, when alluding to a conversation with Francis I. or Henry VIII., he would feign absence of mind, and say, “The king then turned to me and said—,” but immediately recollecting himself, he would recal the last words, and add, “and said to Duke so and so.” He was thoroughly acquainted with anecdotic history, and in this way composed pictures and scenes drawn so naturally, that no eye-witness could have described in a more effective manner than himself events that happened in past ages. “Those humbugs of Parisians,” he said one day to Baron Von Gleichen, “imagine that I am four hundred years old, and I confirm them in the idea, because I see that it affords them such pleasure. Still, for all that, I am many years older than I appear.”
He possessed a great number of chemical receipts, especially for the composition of various cosmetics, and colouring matters, a very fine alloy of copper and zinc, and also for the manufacture of false precious stones, as it seems. He one day showed Baron Von Gleichen, in addition to a small collection of exquisite paintings, among which was a Holy Family by Murillo, a mass of diamonds so brilliant and large, that Gleichen fancied he gazed on the treasures of the Wonderful Lamp, and there was nothing to prove that the stones were false. But he no more asserted that he possessed the universal specific, than he did the Philosopher’s Stone. He lived most temperately, never drinking at his meals; and the only medicine he took consisted of senna, prepared by himself. This was the sole advice he gave to his friends, when they consulted him on the art of living for a long while. It is true, though, that he spoke now and then with mysterious emphasis of the profundities of Nature, and opened up a large field for the imagination with reference to his learning and illustrious descent.
Differing from other charlatans, he never offered to sell governments the art of making gold; but, in accordance with the greatest lights of the age in which he lived, he pointed out to them the means of enriching themselves indirectly by the employment of all sorts of economical receipts, as well as great financial operations. While he thus had all the appearance of a man seeking to make a fortune, he was one day arrested in Piedmont on account of a note which was alleged to be false; but he produced more than 100,000 crowns in excellent securities, immediately paid the suspected note, and was so infuriated with the governor of the town, that the latter immediately had him set at liberty, with many humble apologies for the mistake that had been made.
He treated the Margrave of Anspach in the coolest possible way, like a young man who as yet knew nothing about superior things. To add to the consideration he enjoyed at that little court, he at times showed letters from Frederick the Great.
“Do you know that handwriting?” he said one day to the Margrave, showing him a letter still in its cover.
“Yes, it is the king’s private seal.”
“Well, you shall not know what is inside,” and he coolly returned the letter to his pocket.
Such are all the facts I am enabled to collect with reference to Count St. Germain, who greatly excited public curiosity in his day. Possibly he