Foucault's pendulum - Umberto Eco [91]
“They always go for that. Hungry? Frustrated? Exploited? Mystery cocktail coming up. Here...” She passed me a joint. “This is good stuff.”
“See? You also seek to lose yourself.”
“Except that I know it’s only chemical. No mystery at all. It works even if you don’t know Hebrew. Come here.”
“Wait. Next Rosencreutz went to Spain, where he picked up more occult doctrines, claiming that he was drawing closer to the center of all knowledge. In the course of these travels—which for an intellectual of the time was a sort of total-wisdom trip-he realized that what was needed in Europe was an association that would guide rulers along the paths of wisdom and good.”
“Very original. Well worth it, all that studying. I want some cold mamaia.”
“In the fridge. Do me a favor. You go. I’m working.”
“If you’re working, that makes you the ant. So be a good ant and get some provisions.”
“Mamaia is pleasure, so the grasshopper should go. Otherwise I’ll go, and you read.”
“No. Jesus, I hate the white man’s culture. I’ll go.”
Amparo went to the little kitchen, and I enjoyed seeing her against the light. Meanwhile, C.R. was on his way back from Germany, but instead of devoting himself to the transmutation of metals, of which his now immense knowledge made him capable, he decided to dedicate himself to spiritual reformation. He therefore founded the confraternity, inventing a language and magic writing that would be the foundation of the wisdom of generations of brothers to come.
“No, I’ll spill it on the book. Put it in my mouth. Come on, no tricks, silly. That’s right...God, how good mamaia is, rosencreutzlische Mutti-ja-ja...Anyway, what the first Rosicrucians wrote in the first few years could have enlightened the world.”
“Why? What did they write?”
“There’s the rub. The manifesto doesn’t say; it leaves you with your mouth watering. But it was important; so important, it had to remain secret.”
“The bastards.”
“No! Hey, cut that out! Well, as the Rosicrucians gained more and more members, they decided to spread to the four corners of the earth, vowing to heal the sick without charging, to dress according to the customs of each country (never wearing clothes that would identify them), to meet once a year, and to remain secret for a hundred years.”
“Tell me: what kind of reformation were they after? I mean, hadn’t there just been one? What was Luther then? Shit?”
“No, you’re wrong. This was before the Protestant Reformation. There’s a note here; it says that a thorough reading of the Fama and the Confessio evinces—”
“Evinces?”
“Evinces. Shows, makes evident. Stop that, I’m trying to talk about the Rosy Cross. It’s serious.”
“It evinces.”
“Rosencreutz was born in 1378 and died in 1484, at the ripe old age of a hundred and six. And it’s not hard to guess that the secret confraternity made a considerable contribution to the Reformation that celebrated its centenary in 1615. In fact, Luther’s coat of arms includes a rose and a cross.”
“Some imagination.”
“You expect Luther to use a burning giraffe or a limp watch? We’re all children of our own time. I’ve found out whose child I am, so shut up and let me go on. Around 1604 the brethren of the Rosy Cross were rebuilding a part of their palace or secret castle, and they came across a plaque with a big nail driven into it. When they pulled out the nail, part of the wall collapsed, and they saw a door with something written on it in big letters: POST CXX ANNOS PATEBO...”
I had already learned this from Belbo’s letter, but still couldn’t help reacting. “My God...”
“What is it?”
“It’s like a Templar document that...A story I never told you, about a colonel who—”
“What of it? The Templars must have copied from the Rosi-crucians.”
“But the Templars came first.