The Alchemist’s Gift

From the so-called Hašek manuscript, a secret collection of letters belonging to

My dear Count, the text that follows is a little composition, or perhaps I should say re-elaboration, of my own creation. I have drawn together my memories of the exceptional Austrian musician I had the good fortune of meeting as well as what I remember of your own account of your felicitous expedition and of the events which followed it. This brief tale will serve as an accompaniment to the account of your voyage, in which I long to read those profound reflections which have so sublimely opened the gates of our knowledge.

With fraternal esteem,

R.D.S.

“Votre Excellence me flatte!” said the embarrassed young man in French before continuing in Italian, a language which he knew well, “And to tell you the truth, you are one of the few people who has welcomed me with warmth and recognised my talents.”

“My dear Amadeus, you must excuse the irreverent attitude of my fellow citizens. This land of ours is the cradle of Italic culture and civilization. The kingdom has thousands of conductors and composers – some say there are three hundred in Naples alone – and outsiders who come to present their art are often looked down upon. A grave mistake, of course.”

The young musician nodded. The prince was truly open minded and he would gladly have spent hours listening to him speak, but time was pressing so he took a series of scores from his leather portfolio. “This is a small gift for you, to thank you for your kindness, for showing me your amazing chapel, and for revealing some of your secrets, which I shall treasure.”

The prince received the pages like a precious gift, grasping them tightly, as though they might disappear at any moment.

“I have attempted to put into music the sequence of whose hidden meaning you spoke. Incredibly, the mathematical intervals seemed to transform into melodies right before my eyes. I wrote this short composition in a single night, immediately after our most agreeable meeting. It is the beginning of an allegro that might be incorporated into a sonata. I have called it Arcana Dei, because I am convinced God himself dictated it to me. I was simply the intermediary.”

The prince’s eyes widened and he stared at the young man intensely. A sign: the arrival of this Austrian musician, little more than an adolescent, must surely be a sign.

He laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder and smiled at him again. “You are going to be a legend, Amadeus, I am sure of it.”

The two men walked slowly down the chapel’s single aisle. More than two weeks had already passed since the summer solstice and a month and a half since the fortuitous visit of the young musician from Salzburg. The alleys of the city centre were not yet afflicted with the usual sticky summer heat, and there, in the chapel, one was still comfortable.

There were only two years between them yet they looked like father and son. What with his uncertain gait, wrinkled face, and laboured breath, the host and owner of the chapel was showing signs of premature ageing.

The other man, however, of noble appearance, elegantly dressed and refined in manner, seemed in much better shape – smooth, unmarked skin, an intense stare and an upright posture. He discreetly laid his hand on his close friend’s shoulder and gave him a good-natured smile. “You should take a holiday, Excellency. The heat in the city will soon become unbearable.”

The host momentarily raised his eyes from the chapel’s intricate, labyrinthine floor and looked at his illustrious guest. “You are right, my dear Count, before long it will be stifling here in the heart of Naples, but I still have so much to do. I cannot interrupt my experiments, turn off the ovens, plug the stills, and stand around doing nothing at all.” He paused for a moment, smiled wryly, and continued. “If I did, I’d never be able to match your achievements!”

The count smiled back, amused by his amiable host’s false modesty. “Your Excellency, you have already equalled and surpassed this humble apprentice, and this, your chapel, is clear testimony to your brilliance! One day, the name of Prince Sansevero will be remembered as one of the great enlightened spirits of the century.”

Prince Sansevero raised an eyebrow. “I would never have asked a glass blower to help carry out the delicate task I entrusted to you. You are a great alchemist, Count, a scholar of profound knowledge and, above all, a conscientious man. You are someone I can trust.”

The Count Saint-Germain suddenly became serious. “You may be sure of that, Prince. Principally because the task you assigned me proved highly demanding… Shocking, even. I don’t think anyone who had not been initiated into our secrets could have endured what I saw there.”

In the meantime, the two men had reached the steps that led up to the main altar. The prince paused, then turned to look at his friend. “Tell me, I beg you.”

Saint-Germain sighed, searching for the right words. “The tradition is based upon truth – I found the room.”

The prince put his hand to his mouth, as if to stifle a cry of joy. Or perhaps of dismay.

The count sighed again, this time almost with fatigue. “Thanks to my connections and a hefty donation, I obtained permission to isolate that part of the building. A curtain arranged to appear as though it were concealing some ordinary maintenance work hid me from the gaze of onlookers.”

“Then, at the pre-arranged time, I positioned the catalyst. The phenomenon began to occur and I sent my assistants away, remaining alone with my excitement as the light moved closer to me…”

The count stopped and the prince, hanging on his every word, urged him to continue, gesturing impatiently.

“The stone disappeared and I saw beyond it into the very depths of the temple. I identified the correct place an instant before the phenomenon ceased. I called my assistants back and went through to the crypt.”

Sansevero could barely contain himself. His friend’s account appeared to have wholly re-invigorated him and he seemed almost to be witnessing first-hand that which Saint-Germain had seen.

“We found the room. Once again, I left my assistants outside. I went in alone and followed your instructions. And there it was… the Wouivre of that place. It was immensely powerful, an unimaginable force, though very different from what one might have imagined.”

The prince’s eyes shone like those of a child with a new toy. “But you were able to contain its force, weren’t you? You managed to draw it out of the earth and master it, just as we’d planned? What did you see? What effect did it have, what wonders did it work?”

Saint-Germain took out his precious pocket watch – the only one in the world, a gift from the prince, and made by the prince himself – and showed it to his friend. Sansevero, at first confused, but then intrigued, looked at it: the watch had stopped. He looked up at the count.

“I don’t understand. Did it break? Did it not work at the crucial moment? You said you had drawn out the force…”

The count nodded. “Oh yes, the mechanism worked perfectly. It is simply that the phenomenon provoked a change in the watch, something most unexpected.” He wound the watch up and it started again. He pulled out a rusty coin and positioned it by the watch. The Prince of Sansevero’s eyes widened.

“And this is just one of the effects, Excellency,” said the count. “Once I had got back upstairs, I felt a great peace. I felt that I was in harmony with the cosmos. But I fear the power enclosed there might have evil consequences were the procedures to be performed incorrectly. I wrote down everything I saw and heard in this notebook.”

From his dress coat he pulled out a small leather bound book, tied shut with a strap. “I’ve noted down directions for finding the room, along with the formula we created and everything else which needs to be done. Of course, it is all encoded in the language of we initiates. And I have also added my personal impressions.”

The prince took the small book as though it were a precious relic, and turned it over in his hands for a while. Impressed upon it was the familiar symbol of Mercury – the caduceus – which, for alchemists, represented the synthesis of the three elements in the Magnum Opus: mercury, sulphur and salt. He looked back at the count.

“It is safe. But, Excellency, are you really sure you wish to keep the evidence of its existence and power?” Saint-Germain asked, pointing at his notebook, a hint of concern in his voice.

Raimondo de Sangro assumed a determined expression. “Count, what we have learned must not be lost. I shall hide the formula and your notes in a place where only we initiates will be able to find them, just as I have done with all my most important and dangerous discoveries. Hidden well, yet in plain view of everyone. And if someone does find them, they will need to be well versed in our lore to be able to decipher our language and access the secret we have discovered. As long as I’m alive, you will be the only person to know where I have hidden these precious documents. But if one day someone were to find and interpret them, it would mean they were worthy of the discovery.”

The Count of Saint-Germain held the prince’s gaze for a few seconds, then nodded.

The prince smiled, as though to re-assure the great alchemist, and moved towards the main altar. He turned to the nave and stretched out his arms, satisfied. “So, what do you think of this, my humble work?”

The count, who had joined him, turned as well, his gaze dwelling on the astonishing sculptures designed by the prince.

Prologue