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Welcome to Erin Menke's Cabinet of Curiosities,
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a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and mild.
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Our world is full of the unexplainable, and if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities. Every single one of us, in our own way, is passing through history. We have no way of knowing exactly who is going to earn their place in a history book on the main page or or who will wind up as mere footnotes. But those of us who read history for a living know one thing to be there's more life in between the lines than any history book can tell us. And it's there that the most fascinating questions live. Follow me to the Haymarket Theater in London. In the year 1745, an opera called L' in Costanza da Luza has just premiered, a lavish spectacle. But what made this opera notable was not its content or its production, but a little known musician who contributed three arias that he'd written. He had just arrived in Europe and writers of the time described him as suave and charming, with dark hair and a fine sense of dress. This man was arrested in London that same year under suspicion of spying, but later released due to lack of evidence. Horace Walpole, the famous British author and politician, referred to him in one of his letters. He has been here these two years and will not tell who he is or whence, but profess that he does not go by his right name. He sings, plays the violin, wonderfully, composes, is mad, and not very sensible. He is called an Italian, a Spaniard, a Pole, a somebody that married a great fortune in Mexico and ran away with her jewels to Constantinople, a priest of Fiddler, a vast nobleman. The man who fits this intriguing description was known by a single French title, the Comte de Saint Germain. He seemingly came out of nowhere in the 1740s, impressing high society in London with his musical talents. But after his arrest in 1745, he did not stay long in London. Instead, he traveled to mainland Europe, where he ingratiated himself with the French court of King Louis XVI. By the late 1740s, he had become a close counselor and occasional political agent for the French crown. He spoke many languages, including French, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Dutch, and Spanish, and was able to converse on a wide variety of topics, from politics to science, Although perhaps science might be overstating it just a little. You see, one of the count's primary interests, according to the stories, was. Was the field of alchemy. It was, at this point in history on the decline in comparison to other natural sciences. But there were still many eager practitioners. After all, goals like turning lead into gold or achieving immortality will always inspire some people. As the decades wore on, members of high society pointed out that he barely seemed to age. One anecdote tells of an encounter with an elderly countess in the 1760s who expressed disbelief at seeing him. She said that she had known a Count Saint Germain in Venice back in 1710. She asked if it was his father that she had met, and instead, St. Germain said that he had lived in Venice at that time. So it was he that she remembered, and she was amazed. The man she knew was 45 years old at the time, meaning that he would be 100 years old. During their conversation, Saint Saint Germain accepted the suggestion proudly, still never confirming what his original name was nor where he came from. Later, at various dinner parties, he would claim to be over 300 years old. Both Voltaire and Casanova wrote about him with skepticism, referring to him as a teller of enormous lies. Voltaire referred to him as, and I quote, a man who never dies, who knows everything. But Casanova conceded that As a liar, St. Germain was an incredibly persuasive one. In 1760, for example, he talked his way into the Hague and began peace talks to end the Seven Years War between England and France. No one ever knew where all his money came from, either. He seemed to be wealthy, but had no bank account or land to speak of. This observation, of course, fueled rumors of him being a powerful alchemist. After all, if you can turn any substance into gold, then you don't need a bank account, do you? After 40 years of traveling freely throughout Europe, charming high society, and writing music, St. Germain spent the last few years of his life in central Germany doing alchemy experiments with the Danish Prince Charles. Now in his 80s, he confided to the prince that he was the son of Francis II Rakozi, a renowned nobleman from Transylvania, which would explain his wealth and comforts among nobility. Like all of his stories, this part was never confirmed. St. Germain seemingly died in 1784, but that was not the end of his story. Sightings of him persisted long after his death. After his tall tales, a growing number of people believe that he really was immortal. In the 200 years that followed, many copycats have appeared claiming to be the man himself, still alive after all these years. The most recent was in the 1970s. Even if the original Count of St. Germain was just an incredibly skilled con artist, a talented Mr. Ripley of the 18th century, there is still something about him that makes even skeptics want to believe the impossible. Through his lies and charms, he cast a spell on history.