An Excursion to Gentilly—“Uraniæ Sacrum”—César and Ruggieri—The rue d’Enfer and the Capucins—Perditor—The Love-philtre—Seeing the Devil—“Now You are Mine!”
Ninon’s pledge of eternal fidelity to Rambouillet did not hinder other friendships; and about this time she one day made an excursion to Gentilly with the Comte de Lude, intent on visiting the great magician, Perditor, who conducted there his famous incantations. She chose de Lude for her companion on this occasion, because he was an utter disbeliever. The adventure was prompted by the craze, ever latent in society, and then recently kindled to fever-heat, for magic and occultism. The theme, as old almost as the ages, is ever new, and likely to remain so until the mysteries of life and death are revealed. And some short time previously, the rumour had circulated that a man named Febroni, intensely hated by Richelieu, was endeavouring to compass the cardinal’s destruction, by causing a wax image of him to be made and exposed to a slow fire, and as the image melted, so the minister’s life would dwindle to the death. This was, of course, no new device of witchcraft anddiablerie; but it served to arouse intense interest and curiosity, and the air was as full of sorcery and demonology as when the first Ruggieri practised his arts for Catherine deMédicis, and watched the stars from the old tower-top of Blois, the observatory of the terrible queen, “Uraniæ Sacrum.”
Some half-dozen years before Ninon was born, a man named César and another Ruggieri, probably taking the old magician for sponsor, had been notorious as potent masters of the “Black Art.” That they were credited with possessing unlimited command over the elements, and to produce thunder and lightning at will, was but a small part of his power. He could manufacture love-potions to render the indifferent one enamoured of the wooer, and insidious poisons to destroy a hated human obstacle, and perform many services of the like nature for a price, but the fees were startlingly high.
An indiscretion, only in a measure connected with his profession, brought César inside the walls of the Bastille. He had, it appeared, been accustomed to attend the Witches’ Sabbath, and meeting there a great Court lady, he had, he said, induced her to listen too graciously to his soft speeches. The boasts, after his release from the old fortress, brought him condign punishment at the hands, it was said, of his Satanic chief, furious with jealousy it might be. It was on a wild March night that he came and went again with hideous din and clatter, leaving César strangled in his bed; and then making his way to the abode of Ruggieri, he despatched him in the same manner. There were some ready to contend that less supernatural agency might be answerable for these acts. On the other hand it was well known that the devil wasno stranger in Paris, having once resided in a street on the left bank of the Seine, which was named after him, the rue d’Enfer. From here he was at last ejected, thanks to a happy thought on the part of the city authorities, who handed the ground over to the Capucin brothers, and the foul fiend was heard of no more in that quarter. César extenuated his offence of magic by the assertion that he “was pestered to death by young courtiers and other young Parisians to show him the devil,” and not seeing why he should have the trouble of doing so for nothing, he set his price at forty and fifty pistoles, leaving it a matter of choice whether they would face the terrible ordeal to its ending, or take flight, leaving the pistoles of course behind them. It was this latter course which had been mostly adopted.
And now, at Gentilly, dwelt one magician named Perditor, whose power was reported to be greater than that of any of his predecessors; since he possessed the secret of concocting a philtre capable of maintaining a woman’s beauty and freshness to extreme age. It was the idea of obtaining this inestimable thing, which determined Ninon to pay a visit to the mighty Perditor. The chronicles of the time confirm the facts related by Ninon of her adventure, which are best told in the fashion of her own experiences:
“On entering the village, we inquired for the dwelling of the celebrated necromancer, and a guide presented himself to conduct us thither. We soon arrived in front of a yawning cavernwhich was surrounded by large deep ditches. Our guide made a signal, and immediately a man dressed in red appeared on the opposite side of the ditches, and asked us what we wanted.
“‘I wish for a philtre,’ I replied, ‘which will make my beauty last the length of my life.’
“‘And I,’ said the count, ‘wish to see the devil.’
“‘You shall both be satisfied,’ replied the red man, as calmly as if we had asked the most natural thing in the world. Then he lowered a sort of drawbridge across the ditch, and, this crossed, he admitted us into the cavern, where we soon found ourselves in complete darkness. I felt not a little nervous.
“‘Do not be afraid,’ said the count to me; ‘I have my sword with me, a dagger, and two pistols; with them I think I can defy all the sorcerers in the world.’
“After proceeding for quite five minutes along underground galleries and passages, we found ourselves in a sort of large circular chamber hewn out of the solid rock. Some resin torches cast a fitful and gloomy glare up into its vaulted roof. At one end of this hall, upon a platform draped entirely in black, was seated a personage in the garb of a magician, who appeared to be waiting for us.
“‘That is the Master!’ solemnly said the man in red to us.
“And he left us alone in the presence of the great sorcerer himself.
“‘Approach!’ cried Perditor, addressing us in a terrible voice. ‘What do you wish?’
“‘I wish,’ murmured I, in a trembling voice, ‘a philtre to preserve to me my youth and beauty all my life.’
“‘Forty crowns. Pay first.’
“Taking out my purse, I laid down five louis, appalled by the defiant fierceness of his tones. The count did not wait for the questioning of the man on the platform.
“‘For my part, Sir Necromancer,’ he said, ‘I feel greatly curious to see the devil. How much do you want for showing him to me?’
“‘One hundred livres.’
“‘Peste! At that price what fine benefices you must be able to bestow.’
“The lord of the cavern vouchsafed no reply. He took the money from the count, which he put into a big purse hanging at his side, along with my louis. That done, he laid his hand upon a huge bell, which sounded as loud as the bourdon strokes of Notre-Dame tower-bell. At this signal, which nearly deafened us, two nymph-like young women, fairly pretty, dressed in white and crowned with flowers, rose from the ground near. Perditor pointed me out to them, handed them an empty crystal phial, and then again struck his fearful bell. The nymphs disappeared. I gathered that they had gone to mix my philtre.
“‘And now,’ continued the necromancer, turning to us, ‘you are both decided that you will see the devil?’
“‘Very decided,’ said the count.
“‘Your name?’
“‘But is it necessary to give it to you, sir?’ stammered I.
“‘It is indispensable.’
“‘It is Anne de L’Enclos.’
“‘And I,’ hastened to add my companion, ‘I am called George de Sandrelles, Comte de Lude.’
“‘You swear never to reveal that which is about to take place before your eyes?’
“‘We swear it.’
“‘You promise not to be afraid, and not to invoke heaven or the saints?’
“‘We promise.’
“The magician rose; he took a long wand of ebony, approached us, and traced a large circle with it in the dust, inscribed with a number of cabalistic figures. Then he said to us—
“‘You can still go away—are you afraid?’
“I wanted to answer in the affirmative, but the count cried in resolute tones—
“‘Afraid of the devil? For shame! What do you take us for? Get on with you.’
“And at the same instant we heard thunderous peals—the voice of the magician sounding above the tumult. He gesticulated, shouted, and broke, in some unknown tongue, into a torrent of diabolic invocations. It made one’s hair stand on end. Terror seized me. I clung convulsively to the count’s arm, and implored him to leave the frightful place.
“‘The time is past for it,’ cried the sorcerer; ‘do not cross the circle, or you are dead.’
“Suddenly, to the noise of the thunder, succeededa sound like the rattling of chains that were being dragged along the depths of the cavern. Then we heard dismal howlings. The necromancer’s contortions continued, and his cries redoubled. He uttered barbaric words, and appeared to be in fits of frenzy. In the twinkling of an eye, we were enveloped in flames.
“‘Look!’ cried Perditor.
“A cry of terror broke from me, as I saw in the midst of this wild whirlwind of fire a huge black goat, loaded with glowing red chains. The howlings grew more fearful, the flames burst into frightful intensity, and a troop of hideous demons, also loaded with chains, began to dance round the goat, waving their torches, and uttering furious shouts and yells. The goat reared on to his hind legs, butted with his horns, and appeared to be the very genius of the infernal scene.
“‘Ah! pardieu!’ cried de Lude, ‘the comedy is well played, I own; but I am curious to see the coulisses, and to examine the costumes of the actors closer.’
“He grasped his pistols, and made as if he was going to step over the circle; but at a sign from the magician, all the flames were extinguished, the goat and the demons disappeared. We were plunged once more into profound darkness. At the same moment strong arms seized us, we were dragged hurriedly along the passages, and flung outside the cavern.
“I was only too glad of this unlooked-for ending up, and did not ask to go back and get my philtre,and I willingly left the magician in possession of my five louis.
“The count was not at all of the same mind. He insisted on penetrating to the solving of the enigma. We had been the victims of a hateful and odious charlatanism. I did not feel so convinced of that as he was, and the abominable spectacle would not quit my imagination. For the rest of that day, and the following night, I saw nothing but devils dancing and howling amid the flames.”
And then it was just before break of dawn, between her sleeping and waking, came once again the Man in Black. He smilingly asserted himself to Ninon, to be, beyond all doubt and juggling hocus-pocus, his Satanic Majesty, the real “Simon Pure.” In calm, grave tones he offered her the choice of the three great gifts this world has to bestow—riches, grandeur, beauty—enduring beauty till all-destroying Death should claim her, and with only a momentary hesitation, Ninon chose beauty. Then in two crystal phials, like the one the charlatans had yesterday cheated her out of in the Gentilly cavern, he handed her the wondrous liquid—limpid, delicately rose-tinted; enough to last the longest lifetime, since one drop only in a wine-glass of water, to be taken after her morning bath, was all that was needed. First, however, he produced his tablets, and writing a few words on one of the pages, he bade her set her signature beneath. “Very good,” he said, when she had done this. As he placed the phials in her hands, “Now you are mine,” and headded, as he laid his hand on her shoulder, that her health would remain almost unbroken through all the coming years, troops of friends and love would be ever with her, and after death the memory of her would be unfading. Once more she would see him—years hence. “Then beware and tremble; you will not have three more days to live.”
And so he disappeared.[2]
In the course of their brief conversation, the Man in Black disclosed to Ninon the manner in which his impudent imitator produced his Mumbo-Jumbo terrors. Like the Comte de Lude, he did not deny them effect; but he held them so essentially vulgar, that it seemed marvellous to him how the fellow succeeded in imposing on refined and educated clients. Moreover, they had not even the recommendation of novelty. Perditor had, he explained, contrived merely to get knowledge and possession of the tricks and traps of the long since strangled César, who during his incarceration in the Bastille had entertained his gaolers with an account of the way he played his tricks, performed apparently at Gentilly also at that time and therefore rendering the way the easier to his successor, since the old quarry he had utilised and patterned about with ditches still remained. Perditor’s ceremonial was identically the same with César’s. The frightful cries he uttered were the signal for six men hideously masked and garbed, he kept concealed in the cavern, to spring forward, flinging out flashes of flame, and waving torches of burningresin. Amid the flames was to be seen the monstrous goat, loaded with thick iron chains painted vermilion, to give the appearance of being red-hot. On each side, in the obscurity of the cavern, were placed two huge mastiffs, their heads fastened into wooden cases, wide at one end, and narrow at the other. Two men goaded and prodded these two poor animals, which caused them to utter the most dismal howling, filling the cavern with the appalling noise, while the goat, a most intelligent beast, and thoroughly understanding his part, played it to admiration, rattling his chains and butting his huge horns.
The devil having thus shown himself, two of the men now rush upon the unfortunate individual, and belabour him black and blue with long bags of cloth filled full of sand, and then fling him, half-dead, outside the cavern. “Then the parting advice is given him not to wish to see the devil again, and he never does, concluded César.”