Mysteries of the Rosie Cross / Or, the History of that Curious Sect of the Middle Ages, Known as the Rosicrucians; with Examples of their Pretensions and Claims as Set Forth in the Writings of Their Leaders and Disciples

by Anonymous

MYSTERIES OF THE ROSIE CROSS.

CHAPTER I.

Who and what were the Rosicrucians?

The questions which present themselves on the threshold of this enquiry are:—Who and what were the Rosicrucians? When and where did they flourish, and what influence did any peculiar tenets they may have held, or practices they may have indulged in, exercise upon the world? We shall endeavour to answer these queries as distinctly as so mysterious and extravagant a subject will allow of, and illustrate the whole by copious extracts from the writings of recognized leaders and disciples.

Comparatively very little is known about these people; and, if we open any of our works of general reference, such as dictionaries and encyclopædias, we find little more than a bare reminder that they were a mystic sect to be found in a few European countries about the middle of the fifteenth century. That such a sect did exist is beyond question, and the opinion that what is left of it exists at the present time in connection with modern Freemasonry, seems not altogether destitute of foundation.

They appear to have a close connection with the Alchemists; springing into existence as a distinct body when those enthusiastic seekers after the power of transmuting the baser into the nobler metals were creating unusual sensation. Somewhere about the end of the fifteenth century, a Dutch pilot named Haussen, had the misfortune to be shipwrecked off the coast of Scotland. The vessel was lost, but Haussen was saved by a Scotch gentleman, one Alexander Seton, who put off in a boat and brought the drowning mariner to land. A warm friendship sprang up between the two, and, about eighteen months after, Seton went to Holland, and paid a visit to the man whom he had rescued. During this visit he informed the Dutchman that he was in possession of the secret of the philosopher’s stone, and report says that in his presence he actually transmuted large quantities of base metal into the finest gold, which he left with him as a present. Seton in due course took leave of his friend, and prosecuted his travels through various parts of the continent. He made no attempt to conceal the possession of his boasted secret, but openly talked of it wherever he went and performed certain experiments, which he persuaded the people were actual transmutations of base metal into gold. Unfortunately for him, the Duke of Saxony heard the report of these wonders, and immediately had him arrested and put to the torture of the rack to extract from him the precious secret, or to compel him at least to use it in his especial service. All was in vain, however, the secret, if such he really possessed, remained locked up in his own breast, and he lay for months in prison subjected to treatment which reduced him to mere skin and bone, and well nigh killed him. A Pole, named Sendivogius, also an alchemist, an enthusiast like the rest of the fraternity, who had spent time and fortune in the wild and profitless search, then came upon the scene. The sufferings of Seton aroused his sympathy, and he resolved to bring about, if possible, his escape from the tyrant. After experiencing a deal of difficulty he obtained permission to visit the prisoner, whom he found in a dark and filthy dungeon, in a condition well nigh verging upon absolute starvation. He immediately acquainted the unhappy man with his proposals, which were listened to with the greatest eagerness, and Seton declared that, if he succeeded in securing his liberation, he would make him one of the wealthiest of living men. Sendivogius then set about his really difficult task; and, with a view to its accomplishment, commenced a curious and artful series of movements. His first move was to procure some ready money, which he did by the sale of some property near Cracow. With this he began to lead a gay and somewhat dissipated life at Dresden; giving splendid banquets, to which he invited the officers of the guard, particularly selecting those who were on duty at the prison. In the course of time his hospitality had its expected effect; he entirely won the confidence of the officials, and pretending that he was endeavouring to overcome the obstinacy of the captive, and worm out his secret, was allowed free access to him. It was at last resolved upon a certain day to make the attempt at escape; and, having sent the guard to sleep by means of some drugged wine, he assisted Seton over a wall, and led him to a post-chaise, which he had conveniently waiting, to convey him into Poland. In the vehicle Seton found his wife awaiting him, having with her a packet of black powder, which was said to be the philosopher’s stone by which iron and copper could be transmuted into gold. They all reached Cracow in safety, but Seton’s sufferings had been so severe, and had so reduced his physical strength, that he did not survive many months. He died about 1603 or 1604, leaving behind him a number of works marked Cosmopolite. Soon after his death Sendivogius married the widow; and, according to the accounts which have come down to us, was soon initiated into the methods of turning the commoner metals into the finer. With the black powder, we are told, he converted great quantities of quicksilver into the purest gold, and that he did this in the presence of the Emperor Rudolph II. at Prague, who, in commemoration of the fact, caused a marble tablet with an inscription to be fixed in the wall of the room where the experiment was performed. Whether the experiment was a cheat or not, the tablet was really fixed in the said wall, and was seen and described by Desnoyens, secretary to the Princess Mary of Gonzaga, Queen of Poland, in 1651.

Rudolph, the Emperor, seems to have been perfectly satisfied with the success of the alchymist, and would have heaped the loftiest honours upon him had he been disposed to accept of them; this, however, did not accord with his inclination; he, it is said, preferred his liberty, and went to reside on his estate at Gravarna, where he kept open house for all who responded to his invitations. His biographer, Brodowski, who was also his steward, insists, contrary to other writers, that the magic powder was red and not black; that he kept it in a box of gold, and that with one grain of it he could make a hundred ducats, or a thousand rix dollars, generally using quicksilver as the basis of his operations. When travelling this box was carried by the steward, who hung it round his neck by a golden chain; the principal part of the powder, however, was hidden in a secret place cut in the step of his chariot; this being deemed a secure place in the event of being attacked by robbers. He appears to have lived in constant fear of being robbed, and resorted to all manner of precautions to secure his treasure when on a journey; for it is said that he was well known as the possessor of this philosopher’s stone, and that many adventurers were on the watch for any opportunity to rob him.

Brodowski relates that a German prince once served him a scurvy trick, which ever afterwards put him on his guard. The prince was so anxious to see the wonderful experiments, of which he had heard so much, that he actually fell upon his knees before the alchymist, when entreating him to perform in his presence. Sendivogius, after much pressing, allowed his objections to be overcome; and, upon the promise of secrecy by the prince, showed him what he was so anxious to witness. No sooner, however, had the alchymist left, than the prince entered into a conspiracy with another alchymist, named Muhlenfels, for robbing Sendivogius of the powder he used in his operations. Accompanied by twelve armed attendants, Muhlenfels hastened after Sendivogius, and overtaking him at a lonely inn, where he had stopped to dine, forcibly took from him his golden box containing a little of the powder; a manuscript book on the philosopher’s stone; a golden medal, with its chain, presented to him by the Emperor Rudolph; and a rich cap, ornamented with diamonds, of the value of one hundred thousand rix-dollars.

Sendivogius was not at all disposed to put up with such treatment without an effort to obtain redress, so he went at once to Prague, and laid his complaint before the Emperor. The Emperor at once sent an express to the prince, ordering him to deliver up Muhlenfels and his plunder. Alarmed at the aspect that things were now assuming, the prince, treacherous to one man as he had been to the other, erected gallows in his courtyard and hanged Muhlenfels with a thief on either side of him. He sent back the jewelled hat, the medal and chain, and the book in manuscript; the powder, he said, he knew nothing of.

Sendivogius now adopted a different mode of living altogether to that which he had formerly been addicted to; he pretended to be excessively poor, and would sometimes keep his bed for weeks together, to make the people conclude it was impossible for him to be the owner of the philosopher’s stone. He died in the year 1636, upwards of eighty, and was buried at Gravarna.