I can practically guarantee you'll never see this article in Reader's
Digest. But I love to do these Digest-style biographies of famous people
in the paranormal field, so here goes. He's been called many things. The
Abbe Barruel called him "a human devil." Thomas Jefferson called him "a
harmless philanthropist." Prof. John Robison called him "the profoundest
conspirator that ever existed." But what's the real story behind the man
who simply called himself "Brother Spartacus?" Adam Weishaupt was born
on February 6, 1748 in Ingolstadt, a city in Bayern (Bavaria), Germany,
which was then an independent kingdom. When he was a baby, his parents,
who had been Orthodox Jews, converted to the Roman Catholic Church.
Instead of attending the yeshiva, Adam attended monastery schools and
later a hochschule (high school) run by the Society of Jesus.

As a Bavarian, Adam learned Czech and Italian as a child, and in school,
he soon mastered Latin, Greek and, with his father's help, Hebrew. With
his avid scholarship and knack for languages, his Jesuit superiors
thought he would be a natural for overseas missionary work, perhaps in
the Americas or in Asia. But Adam rebelled against Jesuit discipline,
resisted their overtures and eventually became the professor of canon
law at the University of Ingolstadt. Beginning around 1768, Adam began
"the collection of a large library for the purpose of establishing an
academy of scholars." He read every ancient manuscript and text he and
his associates could lay hands on. Adam grew interested in the occult,
becoming obsessed with the Great Pyramid of Giza.

He was convinced that the edifice was a prehistoric temple of
initiation. In 1770, he made the acquaintance of Franz Kolmer, a Danish
merchant who had lived for many years in Alexandria and had made several
trips to Giza.. The following year, 1771, Adam decided to found a secret
society aimed at "transforming" the human race. He devoted five years to
thinking out the plan, borrowing from many different occult sources. His
first name for the proposed order, Perfectibilisen, suggests that he
borrowed from the Cathars, a gnostic religion that flourished in Europe
for four hundred years. The Cathars, whose name means "perfect ones,"
were decimated in the Albigensian Crusade of Pope Innocent III during
the early Thirteenth Century. Adam fashioned his order in the form of
(what else?) a pyramid.

"Its members, pledged to obedience to their superiors, were divided into
three main classes; the first including novices, minervals and lesser
illuminati the second consisting," like the Freemasons, of "ordinary,
Scottish and Scottish Knights, and the third, or mystery class,
comprising two grades of priest and regent, and of magus and king," or
Illuminatus Rex. This hierarchy, incidentally, is identical to the table
of organization of the Sufis of Islam, which has some historians
wondering if Adam's friend Kolmer was a closet Sufi. The Illuminati were
a closemouthed bunch. "Every candidate had to give a written promise to
tell nobody of this society. He learned nothing of his superiors and of
the origin of the society, but was confirmed in the belief that the
order could be traced back to antiquity and that its members included
even popes and cardinals." "He further vowed eternal silence and strict
obedience. Every month he had to send a report to his superior, whom he
did not know."

Adam felt that human society had grown hopelessly corrupt and that it
could only be saved by a complete overhaul. In effect, he was the first
utopian to think on a global scale, and he looked forward to the day his
group would bring about the Novus Ordo Seclorum, sometimes called the
New World Order. The Illuminati had five goals, including "(a) Abolition
of monarchies and all ordered governments, (2) Abolition of private
property and inheritances, (3) Abolition of patriotism and nationalism,
(4) Abolition of family life and the institution of marriage, and the
establishment of communal education of children. (5) Abolition of all
religion." By drawing upon Europe's "best and brightest," Adam was
confident that the order could attain its goals. He wrote, "The pupils
are convinced that the Order will rule the world. Every member therefore
becomes a ruler. We all think of ourselves as qualified to rule. It is
therefore an alluring thought both to good and bad men.

Therefore the Order will spread." He also urged his followers not to
shrink from committing violence or criminal acts in meeting Illuminati
objectives, writing, "Sin is only that which is hurtful, and if the
profit is greater than the damage, it becomes a virtue." Recruitment
proceeded at a brisk pace. Adam rallied many able lieutenants to his
cause. Such as Baron Xavier von Zwack, who lobbied for the order in
Germany and in Britain, too, with help from William Petty, the second
Earl of Shelburne. And Baron Adolf von Knigge, who brokered a "shotgun
marriage" between Illuminism and European Freemasonry at the Congress of
Whilhelmsbad in 1782. By 1782, the Illuminati "had spread from Denmark
to Portugal," and even further afield. Illuminized Britons joined with
like-minded Americans to found the Columbian Lodge in New York City that
year. A young Russian nobleman, Alexander Radischev, joined the order in
Leipzieg and carried the doctrines home to St. Petersburg.

In Lisboa (Lisbon), a poet named Claudio Manuel da Costa became a member
and, upon returning home to Brazil, founded a chapter with two doctors
from Ouro Preto, Domingos Vidal Barbosa and Jose Alvares Maciel. In
1788, this trio launched the first Illuminati uprising, the
Inconfidencia Mineira, but the revolt was nipped in the bud by the
viceroy, the Marquis de Barbacena. Meanwhile, back in Germany, Adam was
learning that life as the Illuminatus Rex was not quite the paradise
he'd envisioned. His long-time mistress became pregnant and insisted
that he either pay up or marry her. Adam stalled, and the lady
threatened to go public with the scandal. Baron von Knigge, who had
given the Illuminatenorden a big boost by allying with Freemasonry,
thought he should be rewarded by becoming Adam's co-ruler in the order.
Adam disagreed, and the resulting feud between the two men resulted in
von Knigge quitting the order in 1784. To make matters worse, Illuminati
writers Johann Herder and Johann G. Fichte had begun beating the drum
for German unification. Their calls for "Ein volk und ein Reich" were
completely out of sync with Adam's plan to do away with nationalism.
While Adam may have been a brilliant scholar, he lacked the leader's
touch. He was too high-handed and arrogant, disinclined to listen to
the advice of subordinates.

These characteristics enraged some of the lesser Illuminati, such as
Joseph Utschneider, and they awaited the day they would have their
revenge. The day was not long in coming. An Illuminati courier was
struck by lightning and killed. When the Bavarian police searched his
body, they found coded messages from Weishaupt sewn into the clothes. At
this critical juncture, Utschneider and his three companions came
forward and told the Bavarian authorities all about the Illuminati. As a
result, the King of Bavaria banned the order in August 1784. Fired from
his position at the university, and accused of everything from treason
to goat molestation, Adam fled Ingolstadt on horseback and went to
Regensburg. When he found the people there equally hostile, he rode on
to Gotha, where he was offered refuge by Duke Ernst II. An associate,
Dr. Schwartz, loaded the order's collection of Kabbalist, Cathar, Sufi
and occult books into an ox-cart and begn the long journey eastward to
Moscow.

The "profoundest conspirator that ever existed" lived out the
rest of his life in exile in Gotha. He got into more mischief in the
French Revolution with his friend and correspondent, Jean-Baptiste
Willermoz, the Illuminatus of Lyons. And lived long enough to inspire
new generations of Illuminati--Anacharsis Cloots, Francois Babeuf and
Filippo Buonarotti, among others. Adam Weishaupt died on November 18,
1830 in Gotha. Even in death, he remains a figure of controversy. The
Roman Catholic Encyclopedia of 1910 said Weishaupt repented on his
deathbed and was reconciled with the Church. Author Gary Allen claimed
that Adam was working on an essay on hermetic art magick, Two Fragments
of a Ritual, when he suddenly dropped dead. Quien sabe?
 
Proper assessment of Adam's role in history may have to wait a few more
centuries, for a generation of more objective historians. His is still a
hot-button name. Here in the USA, fundamentalist Christians consider
Adam Weishaupt a kind of sinister John the Baptist, proclaiming the
global Kingdom of Satan. And those who favor the New World Order...
well, they don't say much of anything. Mention the names "Adam
Weishaupt" and "Illuminati," and they tend to grit their teeth and
scowl. For myself, whenever I think about Adam Weishaupt and his sect,
the haunting question of Jesus Christ comes to mind. "Can an evil tree
produce good fruit?"

By Joseph Trainor

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