Part 19 (2/2)

Ga.s.sendi, in the Life of M. Peiresch, relates that M. Peiresch, going one day to Nismes, with one of his friends, named M. Rainier, the latter, having heard Peiresch talking in his sleep in the night, waked him, and asked him what he said. Peiresch answered him, ”I dreamed that, being at Nismes, a jeweler had offered me a medal of Julius Caesar, for which he asked four crowns, and as I was going to count him down his money, you waked me, to my great regret.” They arrived at Nismes, and going about the town, Peiresch recognized the goldsmith whom he had seen in his dream; and on his asking him if he had nothing curious, the goldsmith told him he had a gold medal, or coin, of Julius Caesar. Peiresch asked him how much he esteemed it worth; he replied, four crowns. Peiresch paid them, and was delighted to see his dream so happily accomplished.

Here is a dream much more singular than the preceding, although a little in the same style.[289] A learned man of Dijon, after having wearied himself all day with an important pa.s.sage in a Greek poet, without being able to comprehend it at all, went to bed thinking of this difficulty. During his sleep, his genius transported him in spirit to Stockholm, introduced him into the palace of Queen Christina, conducted him into the library, and showed him a small volume, which was precisely what he sought. He opened it, read in it ten or twelve Greek verses, which absolutely cleared up the difficulty which had so long beset him; he awoke, and wrote down the verses he had seen at Stockholm. On the morrow, he wrote to M. Descartes, who was then in Sweden, and begged of him to look in such a place, and in such a _division_ of the library, if the book, of which he sent him the description, were there, and if the Greek verses which he sent him were to be read in it.

M. Descartes replied that he had found the book in question; and also the verses he had sent were in the place he pointed out; that one of his friends had promised him a copy of that work, and he would send it him by the first opportunity.

We have already said something of the spirit, or familiar genius of Socrates, which prevented him from doing certain things, but did not lead him to do others. It is a.s.serted[290] that, after the defeat of the Athenian army, commanded by Laches, Socrates, flying like the others, with this Athenian general, and being arrived at a spot where several roads met, Socrates would not follow the road taken by the other fugitives; and when they asked him the reason, he replied, because his genius drew him away from it. The event justified his foresight. All those who had taken the other road were either killed or made prisoners by the enemy's cavalry.

It is doubtful whether the elves, of which so many things are related, are good or bad spirits; for the faith of the church admits nothing between these two kinds of genii. Every genius is either good or bad; but as there are in heaven many mansions, as the Gospel says,[291] and as there are among the blessed, various degrees of glory, differing from each other, so we may believe that there are in h.e.l.l various degrees of pain and punishment for the d.a.m.ned and the demons.

But are they not rather magicians, who render themselves invisible, and divert themselves in disquieting the living? Why do they attach themselves to certain spots, and certain persons, rather than to others? Why do they make themselves perceptible only during a certain time, and that sometimes a short s.p.a.ce?

I could willingly conclude that what is said of them is mere fancy and prejudice; but their reality has been so often experienced by the discourse they have held, and the actions they have performed in the presence of many wise and enlightened persons, that I cannot persuade myself that among the great number of stories related of them there are not at least some of them true.

It may be remarked that these elves never lead one to anything good, to prayer, or piety, to the love of G.o.d, or to G.o.dly and serious actions. If they do no other harm, they leave hurtful doubts about the punishments of the d.a.m.ned, on the efficacy of prayer and exorcisms; if they hurt not those men or animals which are found on the spot where they may be perceived, it is because G.o.d sets bounds to their malice and power. The demon has a thousand ways of deceiving us. All those to whom these genii attach themselves have a horror of them, mistrust and fear them; and it rarely happens that these familiar demons do not lead them to a dangerous end, unless they deliver themselves from them by grave acts of religion and penance.

There is the story of a spirit, ”which,” says he who wrote it to me, ”I no more doubt the truth of than if I had been a witness of it.”

Count Despilliers, the father, being a young man, and captain of cuira.s.siers, was in winter quarters in Flanders. One of his men came to him one day to beg that he would change his landlord, saying that every night there came into his bed-room a spirit, which would not allow him to sleep. The Count Despilliers sent him away, and laughed at his simplicity. Some days after, the same horseman came back and made the same request to him; the only reply of the captain would have been a volley of blows with a stick, had not the soldier avoided them by a prompt flight. At last, he returned a third time to the charge, and protested to his captain that he could bear it no longer, and should be obliged to desert if his lodgings were not changed.

Despilliers, who knew the soldier to be brave and reasonable, said to him, with an oath, ”I will go this night and sleep with you, and see what is the matter.”

At ten o'clock in the evening, the captain repaired to his soldier's lodging, and having laid his pistols ready primed upon the table, he lay down in his clothes, his sword by his side, with his soldier, in a bed without curtains. About midnight he heard something which came into the room, and in a moment turned the bed upside down, covering the captain and the soldier with the mattress and pailla.s.se.

Despilliers had great trouble to disengage himself and find again his sword and pistols, and he returned home much confounded. The horse-soldier had a new lodging the very next day, and slept quietly in the house of his new host.

M. Despilliers related this adventure to any one who would listen to it. He was an intrepid man, who had never known what it was to fall back before danger. He died field-marshal of the armies of the Emperor Charles VI. and governor of the fortress of Segedin. His son has confirmed this adventure to me within a short time, as having heard it from his father.

The person who writes to me adds: ”I doubt not that spirits sometimes return; but I have found myself in a great many places which it was said they haunted. I have even tried several times to see them, but I have never seen any. I found myself once with more than four thousand persons, who all said they saw the spirit; I was the only one in the a.s.sembly who saw nothing.” So writes me a very worthy officer, this year, 1745, in the same letter wherein he relates the affair of M.

Despilliers.

Footnotes:

[284] St. Sulpit. Sever. Dialog. ii. c. 14, 15.

[285] Bodin Demonomania, lib. ii. c. 2.

[286] Guillelm. Paris, 2 Part. quaest. 2, c. 8.

[287] Grot. Epist. Part. ii. Ep. 405.

[288] They affirm that it happened at Dijon, in the family of the MM.

Surmin, in which a constant tradition has perpetuated the memory of the circ.u.mstance.

[289] Continuation of the Count de Gabalis, at the Hague, 1708, p. 55.

[290] Cicero, de Divinat. lib. i.

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