The Alchemist of Paris

by M C Dulac

  He had sent me on an errand that day, to obtain some herbs for the Elixir of Saturn. I watched as he sprinkled them into the potion he had prepared. The liquid swirled slowly.

  “It will take seven more moons,” he declared, as he looked into the vial.

  “Will the steam engine speed the process?”

  “Not for the elixirs. Only time and care will create these potions. But the engine will allow me to experiment on the Great Work, the real mysteries of alchemists. I will be able to explore the basis of our world and the secrets of the fire.”

  As I looked around the shelves and tables, I saw Price experimented not only with chemistry but with many mechanical objects. Some had teeth like clockwork and others were rigged to all sorts of apparatus. One object was linked by string to a clock, which led to a wire which led to the door of the laboratory. I realised this was part of the lock, which clicked into place on sunrise.

  “How do you open the door?”

  “Like this,” Price showed me, “And if I need to lock the door from the outside I lock it like this,” I followed him to the courtyard, “And unlock it like this.”

  I knew that Price did not work every night. When we had checked all the pots and vats, he suggested we go for a walk. He slipped on his velvet cloak and hat and took my arm.

  “I have often seen you leave at midnight. Where do you go?” I asked, as we closed the gate to the Rue Belle behind us.

  “Anywhere I choose.”

  “Is it not dangerous?”

  “There is hardly anyone awake at this time. And besides, I always carry a pistol.”

  This did little to comfort me.

  We strolled through the Rue Belle as if we were on a leisurely Sunday afternoon promenade. Price gazed toward the night horizon, “Sometimes I go to the Academy and listen to their speeches. Sometimes I transact business. And sometimes I just wander. Wandering is very beneficial for the mind.”

  We went first to the Île de la Cité. I began to see the charm of the medieval streets, which Price said reminded him of his home in Switzerland. In the darkness much of the squalor was hidden.

  We came across Notre Dame quite suddenly. I had never seen its towers and buttresses up close.

  “Did you know that at the end of the dark ages, Gothic Cathedrals appeared all over Europe? Only a few years before, people were huddled in darkness, working as peasants in the field, fearing everything and wanting only to survive. And out of nothing, suddenly came these soaring monuments. How did the men of that time advance so suddenly?” Price pointed at the huge rose window, “Did the knowledge come from within or did strangers appear in their midst?”

  I stared at the stone gargoyles, who looked over Paris from their high perch. Although I had admired the beauty of the Cathedral, I had never looked at it closely.

  Price went on, “Was it possible that alchemists once stood where we do now, and oversaw the creation of these monuments?”

  “You mean there were alchemists here hundreds of years ago?”

  “I believe alchemists have gathered at various places at certain times in history, leaving traces of their secrets.”

  “Are there other alchemists in Paris now?” I asked.

  “I know of no other alchemist in Paris,” he said, “At least who chooses to disclose themselves. But there is a great alchemical text here.”

  “Where?”

  “All around us. The city itself. Some say the medieval buildings and the Cathedrals are a secret document, carved in stone.”

  Price opened the gate and we walked around Notre Dame. I stared in awe at the mighty Cathedral, half hidden in shadow. Price’s eyes roamed the facade. I realised Price, with his uncanny vision, had no trouble seeing in the dark. We closed the gate and continued our wander, toward the Place Dauphine.

  * * * * *

  I wanted to know more about those long years Price spoke of, of the woman who had betrayed him and how he had lived and survived.

  Two evenings later, we went for another walk. Walking made Price philosophical and his conversation flowed. Paris was bathed in moonlight, when Price at last told me the story of how he had become an alchemist.

  “When I was eighteen,” Price began, “I entered the service of a man in Zurich. He and his wife were wealthy, secretive and shunned daylight. They sent me on errands to collect powders and chemicals from many different shops. Beneath their house was a cellar, which I was instructed never to enter. Does that sound familiar?”

  “If I had not seen what I have in your house, sir, I would not believe it.”

  “I rarely met my master, and only then at sunset, as he climbed up the stairs from the cellar. He was a gruff man although his manner was kindly. He had with him a servant who was strangely obedient. Once the cellar door was open and I saw a bowl of smoking liquid. The servant closed the door and ordered me to move away.

  “My mistress was a great beauty, and although I knew she must be older than me, she looked no older than eighteen. I often watched her wander in the gardens after midnight. One night, she saw me and beckoned for me to join her in her greenhouse.

  “Her skin seemed to glow in the dark and her perfume was more mesmerising than any flower. She asked me if I would help her tend the elixirs. I could not refuse. After that, I spent many nights by her side. I do not know if she ever knew how much in love with her I was, for I was too in awe to speak my feelings aloud. And how could such a noble beauty love a servant boy like me? Although sometimes I think she did know. She looked at me with sadness at times, and pity. Our love could never be.

  “My master and mistress were extremely wealthy. They had none of the worries of the poor or sick. Yet they carried with them a great sadness. I learned they had left their home, long ago, and their city was destroyed. Many of their friends had died. Destruction hung over them, and they seemed to fear a similar fate.

  “My master’s servant grew weaker and weaker and eventually my master sent him to rest in the mountains. I remember the night my master called me to the cellar. I was amazed to see the immense laboratory with the bubbling potions and swirling vats of liquid metal. My master showed me each of them and told me their Latin names.

  “On one shelf was a red powder. When I asked my master what it was, he merely smiled and said, ‘The alchemist’s last defense.’

  “He asked me to help him stir the vats. So I divided my time between the delicate elixirs in my mistress’ greenhouse and the silvery metals of my master’s laboratory.

  “Did I know my master and mistress were alchemists? I suppose I should have wondered. But the times were different then and the world was emerging from a superstitious age. My master and mistress were charismatic and I was completely in their orbit.

  “But the danger they feared was never far away. I soon heard rumours in the town that my master was creating gold for a German king. My master had locked the door of the cellar, so that even I could not see what he was doing. My master and mistress were now arguing often. One night, they had a great argument in the main hall.

  “ ‘How else are we to live?’ my master threw up his hands.

  “ ‘We can find a better way than this,’ my mistress insisted, ‘If our secret gets out, we are in enormous danger. The Great Work is in danger!’

  “She crossed her arms and stormed away. I had never seen her so angry and afraid. As it turned out, she had good reason to be frightened.

  “When I returned one fateful afternoon, I found the house ransacked. The local nobles, resentful of the German king, had come to the house when my master was out. Unable to break down the cellar door, they had taken my mistress to the town hall as a captive.

  “My master was distraught. We hurried across the town.

  “When we approached the town hall, we found it in chaos. My mistress, having been brought before the officials, had taken a bottle of red powder from her pocket. As she shook and opened the bottle, a huge fire had sprung out of the air, consuming the guards, a banker, several offic
ials and my mistress. To protect her secrets, she had given her life.

  “My master had no time to grieve, for the people were already shouting for his arrest. We returned to our fine house, packed what we could and threw the rest on the bonfire. My master had another home in Geneva, where we fled that night.

  “My master was a haunted man, now my mistress was gone. He ranted and raved, and cursed the gods. Often he asked aloud if his life had been a waste, if all his knowledge was for nothing. He rummaged through his scrolls and books and left potions and elixirs all over the room.

  “ ‘Death, life, gold! What good is it?’ he would often cry, ‘To be forced to make gold for despots and extend the life of tyrants! The Great Work must be kept secret! A secret!’

  “I was young, and anxious to learn everything I could. Maybe I did not want to see the warning of what I might become. I stared at the alluring elixirs which cured illness and prolonged life. My master did not stop me drinking them. The elixir sharpened my mind, so that I could read the Greek, Arabic and Hieroglyph texts as easily as my native tongue.

  “I thought my master would decide when he would die, but instead, his end came in the same way as my mistress. The elector’s soldiers banged on our doors and marched right into our cellar. My master and I were brought before the officials and told of the punishments and torture that awaited us for practising such dark magic.”

  Price and I were nearing the Conciergerie. The hulking towers looked sinister by night. Price grew tense, as we walked past the infamous place where our last Queen, Marie Antoinette, had been imprisoned in the years of Revolution. Price continued his story.

  “The soldiers took off our chains. By now the elector’s lawyers were accusing us of all sorts of things. I was certain that my master would never confess or reveal his secrets. But my master was calm. I was surprised when he bowed and declared that there was no need for such anger. He would give the officials a demonstration.

  “ ‘Albert, go to the back of the room,’ he said, and I obeyed, although I had no idea what he was doing.

  “The officials leaned forward. It was clear they could forget their moral outrage, if we shared a little of our magic.

  “My master took out a gold coin. The lawyer smiled and stroked his chin. Then my master drew a bottle of red powder from his pocket. Before I could speak, he shook it and opened the lid.

  “It was as though all the air had been sucked out of the hall. Then just as suddenly it grew hot, as a fire appeared from nowhere.

  “ ‘It ends the same way every time,’ my master said as the flames surrounded and then engulfed him.

  “All I remember after that was the fire. Fire everywhere. The town hall was in flames and when I staggered into the square, the fire was spreading across the rooftops. The townsfolk were running through the streets. There was so much panic and shouting. Flames were pouring from the windows of our house. My life here was over. My master had destroyed everything.

  “I ran far beyond the city walls. I tried at first to forget what I had learned and lead an ordinary life. However the elixir had not just sharpened my mind, but changed the atoms in my body. At twenty-five, I looked no older than eighteen. At thirty, I had extraordinary youth. As time passed, I realised I would never age but would be frozen at the age I drank the elixir. I could not stay in one place for more than ten years without the townspeople becoming suspicious. And what my master hadn’t told me was that the elixir is not forever lasting. It will prolong life, and without it you will die, but you will not die quickly. There will be a hundred years of suffering, by which time you will do anything to stop the pain.

  “And so I set up my first laboratory. The bankers in the town where I was living, were delighted with my gold-making skills. With those first clients, I paid for more equipment and for the costly ingredients of the elixir which kept me alive.

  “The ancient art came back to me, although there were so many things that I had forgotten. I sought out other alchemists, but found them frauds as my master had warned me. I also did not help my situation. I could not let my talent be known, which led me to work in secret and often with less than scrupulous clients. More than once I had to flee, destroying everything I had created.

  “I realised now the dilemma of my master and mistress. Alchemists needed the elixir to survive and gold to pay for a laboratory. I wanted to devote myself to the Great Work but I lacked the time and the knowledge. There must be a better way to live than this, but what choice did I have?”

  Price and I were now approaching the Louvre Palace. The moon shone down on the broad expanse of the Tulieries gardens. Price unlocked the gate. He had keys that opened anything, so it seemed. We strolled through the wide gardens. The trees were like silent soldiers in the moonlight and the ponds were silver mirrors.

  Price went on, “The times changed, and men began to discover many of alchemy’s secrets. There was much hope that science would provide the answers to all mysteries. I sat in the shadows during their lectures and debates. I could never fight off the feeling that I knew how humanity would end, and that all this talk of enlightenment was pointless. I felt lost among these learned scholars. Deep down I knew I was a mere medieval magician, the keeper of a magic the world must never know.

  “The true secrets of alchemy lay in Egypt, but for many years that country was impossible to enter. When Napoleon set out for Egypt, I joined his band of soldiers and savants. After forging papers and borrowing a uniform, I journeyed to Alexandria.

  “There I found works of immense antiquity. I felt the excitement of discovery again, as I saw Anubis holding the fire. Was it possible to avenge my master and complete the Great Work? But even in Egypt, trouble followed me - my traveling companion found a coin that I had made - and I had to flee once more.

  “I set up a laboratory in London. To finance it, I made gold for a prominent banking family. But my clients became too greedy. I had to leave overnight and burn valuable manuscripts. I tried to settle down in Rome, but the same forces interfered. Then I came to Paris. And here at last, I have found sanctuary, possibly the longest peace I have known since I drank the elixir.”

  We reached the end of the gardens. We crossed the Place Louis XV. A boatman was singing, far down on the river, and his voice echoed through the still, dark night.

  I wondered if it was possible that Price’s magic was not just alchemical, but personal, for I had truly fallen under his spell.

  “And the girl?”

  “The girl?”

  “You said you once trusted a girl.”

  Price looked grim, “Yes I did. That must have been - eighty years ago. She had such bright eyes and such a kind smile. She listened to me and I told her everything. But the secret was too great for her to keep. She told a wealthy man she knew. And then -”

  “Then?”

  “Many bad things happened. But I escaped. After that I went deep into the mountains and stayed there for a year. I had survived so many things, but I had never known the agony of a broken heart.”

  These words hung in the air, and we walked in silence for a long time.

  * * * * *

  The dark forest of the Champs-Élysées stretched before us.

  “We have come so far,” Price suddenly realised, “It is too far to walk back,” he waved to a passing carriage and helped me inside, “There is one more place I have to go tonight.”

  He said something to the driver. The carriage rolled through the streets until we reached a boulevard.

  All evening Price had had a faraway look in his eyes. I had been completely enthralled by his words. When I walked beside him in the Tulieries Gardens I really saw him as the idealistic boy of eighteen who had escaped the alchemist’s cellar.

  But now Price had a hard look. He was still handsome, but the planes of his face tightened and his eyes were determined. He peered through the windows of the carriage. He knocked the roof and the driver stopped.

  “I will not be long,” he smiled.


  I peered out of the carriage. Price cut a fine figure in his top hat and cloak as he approached a grand house. He waited a moment by a gate and a man dressed in a velvet evening coat appeared under the archway.

  The gentleman had a smooth, round face and a manner that suggested he was the owner of the house. But he did not invite Price inside. As the gentleman stepped under the glow of a lamp, shadows appeared beneath his pale eyes, giving him a ghoulish appearance. His mouth was set firmly and he was neither smiling nor frowning.

  Price tipped his hat. The gentleman leant forward and they whispered to each other for several minutes.

  They knew each other, but were not friends.

  “Where are we?” I asked the driver.

  “Rue Saint-Honoré.”

  Price shook the man’s hand and ran across the street. He got into the carriage and called for the driver to continue.

  “Business,” Price smiled.

  I frowned. Price stared straight ahead for the rest of our journey to the Rue Belle.

  Chapter Eleven

  How many times have I dreamt of running along the woodland paths of Reveille? How many times in my dreams have I glimpsed the elusive wild rose but known I had gone too far? The lesson was clear, but I forgot it so easily. The forest of Reveille was nothing compared to the treasures of Price’s laboratory. I ran headlong into its secrets over those nights, as recklessly as I had run through the forest, years before.

  And how can I explain the character of Albert Price? I was aware now he was no ordinary man. As I watched him mix the elixirs, I knew I was in the presence of a great scientist. He carried the vials as reverently as a bishop in a Cathedral, or a high priest from an even older time, in the ancient temples I had seen in illustrations. Afraid to speak, I watched on in awe. I was a mere lowly worshipper, my eyes upturned to watch the glowing potions and tinctures.

  Then in an instant, he seemed like an exasperated older brother, his brow creased as he worked on his mechanical inventions. Then I was his apprentice, fetching tools and warning that the mercury was boiling over.