The Saint-Germain Chronicles (29 page)

But why would the son of a wealthy Czech diamond merchant want to baffle most of the European nobility for nearly forty years? Probably for no more complicated reason than simple enjoyment. He often admitted that he took great delight in watching the investigators of various countries and governments try to discover his “true” identity. He threw out tantalizing clues that led nowhere, or contradicted others he had offered at an earlier time. From one or two of his recorded remarks, it is apparent that he knew very well what he was doing, and found the confusion that resulted from these mendacities quite enjoyable.

Assuming that he was in fact not forty but in his mid-twenties when he first came to France in 1743, he would have been in his mid-sixties at the time of his supposed death in 1786. That he was able to disguise his age effectively is not especially surprising, as at that time both men and women used cosmetics, and it was comparatively simple to change one’s appearance to seem somewhat older. In a youth-oriented culture it is not easy to understand why he would wish to do so, but the society of the French court, and indeed all European courts, was not enamored with youth for youth’s sake. To say that he was in his mid-forties, or to let it be assumed that he was, would make Saint-Germain’s position and claims more credible. A Magus of twenty-five is rather silly, but an experienced, well-traveled man of the world, approaching middle-age, is another matter entirely. He was a man to be trusted and confided in. As a merchant’s son, he would have had the opportunity for travel that might not be available to the children of noble houses in such troubled times as the first half of the eighteenth century. Assuming he began to go on journeys in his early teens, which was fairly common among rich merchants’ heirs, he would have had at least ten years of international travel behind him by the time he arrived in Paris in the spring of 1743.

At one time or another during his years at various European courts, he attended meetings of Kabbalistic, Rosicrucian, and Masonic Lodges. He was well regarded by all those groups, and his studies were taken seriously. He was also interested in all aspects of technology. At one time he advanced quite a good deal of money to a man in Amsterdam who had invented a steam dredge for clearing silted-up canals (that was before he had to sell off his foundry shares). On another occasion he financed a project to develop a more stable spring-and-shock-absorber device for carriages. Both ventures were fairly successful. He was believed during his lifetime to be a partner in at least three importing companies, and the Italians thought the figure was higher than that.

Saint-Germain’s “death” occurred under highly suspicious circumstances—he was alone but for servants at a friend’s isolated château. When he “died”, his body either disappeared mysteriously, or had to be buried at once for fear of infection, depending on which of the two most prevalent stories you wish to believe. Yet he was seen by those who had known him several times after his “death”, and in one instance aided a few aristocratic friends to escape from the guillotine in 1793. The noble family he aided said afterward, when they had reached Germany, that they had traveled part of the way with the courier for a firm of jewel merchants.

The last authentic contact with Saint-Germain was in Genoa in 1802, when a French military officer saw him at the palazzo of one of the Genovese noblemen. At the time, Saint-Germain said that he was about to embark to Egypt to further his occult studies. According to the French colonel, Saint-Germain sailed four days later, and that was the last anyone saw of him. However, it is curious to note that there is a persistent oral tradition in some of the higher occult circles in the Near East, that claims a very old and powerful European Magus died near Cairo in 1817. It is my personal conviction that the very old and powerful European Magus was Saint-Germain.

When I first began to develop the idea for the Saint-Germain cycle of novels back in 1972-3, I began researching the eighteenth century for
Hotel Transylvania
. At the time it was not my intention to use Saint-Germain as a vampire, but as a major secondary character, as I used Botticelli and Nero in later books. In the years I have studied occult subjects, I had become familiar with Saint-Germain and thought that he would be a colorful and ambiguous addition to an historical horror story. However, the more I read about him, the more convinced I became that I did not need to invent a vampire and juxtapose him with Saint-Germain: my vampire was already developed and available. He stood five-foot-six; wore black and white almost exclusively; rarely, if ever, ate or drank in public, though he often gave extravagant supper parties; was believed to have uncanny powers; claimed to be anything from two to four thousand years old; was a linguist and widely traveled; was enormously cultured; was a patron of the arts; was a great mystery. I took him at his highly equivocal word and assumed that all the various rumors he encouraged were true and went on from there. In the Saint-Germain cycle of books, the only thing I claim for Saint-Germain/Ragoczy that he did not claim for himself in his lifetime is vampirism, and since he said that he had achieved his great longevity by drinking the Elixir of Life, I doubt vampirism is stretching the point too far.

For those who are interested, I have constructed a biography for my vampiric Saint-Germain. He is about 4,000 years old, taking the most outlandish figure given by the historical man. He was born in the region now called Transylvania of proto-Etruscan stock. Because he was born at the dark of the year (the historical Saint-Germain told King Louis XV that his birthday was December 24th), he was initiated into the priesthood, which was vampiric, but before he died and changed, he was taken captive and made a slave. Some of this information appears in the novel
Path of the Eclipse
, which is fourth in the cycle.

My choice of proto-Etruscan background is not entirely capricious. Those of you who have seen Etruscan sarcophagi know that the Etruscan attitude about death and the afterlife was unique. Instead of lying in supine, shown in sleeping postures, or represented at profound religious rites, most Etruscans are depicted in very lively pursuits—eating, drinking, playing, making love. Since one arm of current academic thought tends to the theory that the Etruscans originated in the Carpathians and on the Hungarian plains, I found them irresistible for this character. The Etruscan representations of the afterlife seem so appropriate for the cycle of novels, and their possible early location so providential that I seized on them without apology.

Should you be interested in delving further into the background of the historical Saint-Germain, here are a few sources that might be of use to you:

Jacques Casanova de Seingalt,
Memoirs

A. Cockren,
Alchemy Rediscovered and Restored

Isabel Cooper-Oakley,
The Comte de Saint-Germain

Madame la Comtesse de Genlis,
Memoirs

Baron von Gleichen,
Memoirs

Poèmes Philosophiques sur l’homme

Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians

If you are curious about Saint-Germain’s music (which is not available in the United States) some of it is still extant and available with effort. A few titles are:

Musique Raisonée

Six Sonatas for Two Violins with a Bass for the

Harpsichord or Violoncello Seven Solos for a Violin

I trust that le Comte de Saint-Germain, whoever he was, would find his affectionate transmogrification at my hands amusing and complimentary. Surely anyone who enjoyed baffling people as much as he did would be pleased to add one more bizzare attribute to his list. Without doubt he has given me six years of joy in his well-loved vampire persona, which is as good a way as any for him to continue his self-proclaimed immortality.

Le Comte de Saint-Germain: it has been an honor and a pleasure to know him.

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