Observations placeholder
Count of St Germain - from Franz Gräffer's account
Identifier
016141
Type of Spiritual Experience
Background
I will register that I have very severe doubts about the veracity of this account. Apart from anything else the count died in his residence in the factory on 27 February 1784 and this account was written in June 15th, 1843, years after the event was supposed to have taken place.
But it is in for interest value.
The Graffer brothers Franz and Rudolph were personal friends of St. Germain, both were also Rosicrucians. And though no date is given of the interview here recorded, we can deduce it approximately from another article in the same volume, where it is said: "St. Germain was in the year ’88, or ’89, or ’90, in Vienna, where we had the never-to-be-forgotten honour of meeting him."
In effect after he died!
A description of the experience
The Comte de St. Germain - by Isabel Cooper-Oakley - [1912]
from Franz Gräffer's account
One day the report was spread that the Comte de St. Germain, the most enigmatical of all incomprehensibles, was in Vienna. An electric shock passed through all who knew his name. Our Adept circle was thrilled through and through: St. Germain was in Vienna! . . . Barely had Gräffer [his brother Rudolph] recovered from the surprising news, than he......... is mechanically urged to go and find Baron Linden; he finds him at the 'Ente.' They drive to the Landstrasse, whither a certain something, an obscure presentiment, impels them to drive post haste. The laboratory is unlocked; a simultaneous cry of astonishment escapes both; at a table is seated St. Germain, calmly reading a folio, which is a work of Paracelsus ……………….
St. Germain …. passed into a solemn mood. For a few seconds he became rigid as a statue, his eyes, which were always expressive beyond words, became dull and colourless. Presently, however, his whole being became reanimated. He made a movement with his hand as if in signal of his departure, then said:
'I am leaving (ich scheide); do not visit me. Once again will you see me. To-morrow night I am off; I am much needed in Constantinople; then in England, there to prepare two inventions which you will have in the next century--trains and steamboats. These will be needed in Germany. The seasons will gradually change--first the spring, then the summer. It is the gradual cessation of time itself, as the announcement of the end of the cycle. I see it all; astrologers and meteorologists know nothing, believe me; one needs to have studied in the Pyramids as I have studied. Towards the end of this century I shall disappear out of Europe, and betake myself to the region of the Himalayas. I will rest; I must rest. Exactly in eighty-five years will people again set eyes on me. Farewell, I love you.'
After these solemnly uttered words, the Count repeated the sign with his hand. The two adepts, overpowered by the force of such unprecedented impressions, left the room in a condition of complete stupefaction. In the same moment there fell a sudden heavy shower, accompanied by a peal of thunder. Instinctively they return to the laboratory for shelter. They open the door. St. Germain is no more there. . . .
"Here," continues Gräffer, "my story ends. It is from memory throughout. A peculiar irresistible feeling has compelled me to set down these transactions in writing once more, after so long a time, just to-day, June 15th, 1843.
Further, I make this remark, that these events have not been hitherto reported. So herewith do I take my leave.