while on a journey through Austria and Bohemia. On his return to Aix
he presented himself to the President of Provence, who desired him to
call the next day. Alnys, suspecting an intention to arrest him, fled
in the interim. He was afterwards imprisoned at Marseilles, whence
he contrived to escape to Brussels. It was here, in 1731, that he
gave some philosophic mercury to M. Percell, the brother of Langlet
de Fresnoy, which mercury the recipient fermented imperfectly, but
succeeded so far as to convert an ounce of silver into gold. The death
of a certain M. Grefier shortly after some operations on corrosive
sublimate, by which Alnys proposed to instruct him in alchemy, made it
necessary for him to depart, and he was heard of no more.
JOHN HERMANN OBEREIT.
This writer, as much mystic as alchemist, was born at Arbon at
Switzerland in 1725, and died in 1798. He inherited from his father a
taste for transcendental chemistry, and the opinion that metals could
be developed to their full perfection, but that the chief instrument
was the grace of God, working in the soul of the alchemist. He laboured
unceasingly at the physical processes, hoping thereby to restore the
fallen fortunes of his family, but his laboratory was closed by the
authorities as endangering the public safety. He contrived to make
evident the harmless nature of his employment, and was received into
the house of a brother of the physiognomist Lavater. He celebrated,
he informs us, a mystical marriage with a seraphic and illuminated
shepherdess named Theantis, the ceremony taking place in a castle on
the extreme summit of a cloud-encompassed mountain. His bride after
thirty-six days of transcendental union, which was neither platonic
nor epicurean, but of a perfectly indescribable character, departed
this life, and the bereaved husband, during the whole night of her
decease, bewailed her in a mystical canticle. _La Connexion Originaire
des Esprits et des Corps, d’apres les principes de Newton_, Augsbourg,
1776, and _Les Promenades de Gamaliel, juif Philosophe_, were
bequeathed by Obereit to a neglectful posterity.
TRAVELS, ADVENTURES, AND IMPRISONMENTS OF JOSEPH BALSAMO.
The notorious Count Cagliostro appears from an impartial review of his
history and phenomenal exploits, to have been one of those characters
not uncommonly met with in the chequered annals of occultism. Even as
the modern “mediums,” who outrage the confidence of their believers by
leavening the supernatural bread, whereof the ghastly patent is their
prerogative and birthright, with the unrighteous mammon of material
conjuring, and even as those conjurors who are sometimes supposed to
still further perplex their audience by supplementary compacts with
“spooks,” this high priest of transcendental trickery would seem to
have possessed, perhaps unconsciously, a certain share of occult gifts,
which assisted no little his unparalleled rogueries. Mystical knowledge
beyond that of the age in which he lived was undoubtedly his, and
though it was still superficial, he had a genius for making the most of
it.
Joseph Balsamo, whatever has been advanced to the contrary by
himself[AJ] or his admirers, was the son of Peter Balsamo and Felicia
Bracconieri, both of humble extraction. He was born at Palermo,
in Sicily, on the 8th of June 1743. His parents are authentically
described as honest tradespeople and good Catholics, who were careful
in the education of their offspring, and solicitous for their spiritual
welfare. Their shop drew much custom in the populous neighbourhood
which divided the handsome _Rue del Cæsaro_. While his children were
still young, Peter Balsamo died, and, left under the inadequate control
of a widowed mother, Joseph betrayed, even in his earliest years,
a selfish and indolent disposition, greatly neglecting the scanty
educational advantages which were afforded him. According to other
accounts, he was taken under the protection of his maternal uncle,
who endeavoured to instruct him in the principles of religion, and to
give him an education suitable to his age and prospects; but, even
from his infancy, he showed himself uniformly averse to a virtuous
course of life. His uncle was a worthy _bourgeois_ of Palermo, who
foresaw, by the vivacity and penetration of his nephew, that he might
easily become proficient in letters and the sciences.[AK] By him he
was desired to embrace an ecclesiastical career, as the royal road
to distinction in those days. Accordingly, at the age of thirteen he
was placed in the Seminary of St Roch di Palermo, where he proved
his independence and aversion to discipline by continually running
away. Recaptured in vagabond company, he was committed, with no very
favourable character, to a certain father-general of the Bon Fratelli,
who was passing through Palermo. The father-general took charge of him
and straightway carried him to a Benedictine convent on the outskirts
of Cartagirone. There the walls were high, and the caged dove was in
the keeping of an inflexible _frère tourier_. He assumed perforce the
habit of a novice, and the father-general discovering his aptitude for
natural history and, more especially, his herbalistic tastes, placed
him under the tuition of the conventual apothecary, from whom, as he
afterwards acknowledged, he learned the first principles of chemistry
and medicine. Figuier states that in a short time he was able to
manipulate the drugs with astonishing sagacity; but even then it was
remarked that he seemed eager to discover those secrets which would
further the interests of charlatanry.[AL] In strict accordance with
his natural perversity, he did not fail to give various instances
of his innate viciousness, and drew down upon himself the continual
chastisements of his superiors. One day the involuntary novice, whose
irregularities were to some extent excusable on the ground of the
constraint that was put on him, but who often outstripped all bounds,
was set to read during dinner in the refectory a certain portion of an
exceedingly edifying martyrology, and yielding, says one writer with
pious indignation, to an inspiration of Belial, he substituted for
the sacred text a blasphemous version suggested by his own dissolute
imagination, perverting the sense and the incidents, and pushed his
audacity so far as to substitute for the saintly names those of the
most notorious courtesans of the period. A severe penance was imposed
on the insolent offender; but one night he found means to evade the
vigilance of his guardians, escaped from the convent, crossed the
intervening country, and after some days of joyous gipsying and
vagabond wanderings, he arrived at Palermo. Some knowledge of the
principles of chemistry and medicine was about the total of the
advantages he had derived from the discipline of conventual life. His
uncle began to despair of him, but advice and remonstrances were alike
lost upon the young reprobate, who derided them all, and employing
a certain portion of his time in the cultivation of a natural taste
for drawing, he otherwise abandoned himself to unbridled excesses. He
associated with rascals and ne’er-do-wells; his drunkenness, gambling,
and general libertinage, led him into perpetual brawling; and he
was frequently in the hands of the police, whom he is said to have
taken special pleasure in resisting, frequently delivering by force
the prisoners whom they had arrested. He has been also accused of
forging tickets of admission to the theatres, and selling them with
characteristic effrontery. One of his uncles coaxed him back for a
time into his house, and was rewarded by the robbery of a considerable
quantity of money and some valuable effects. He became an intermediary
in the amorous intercourse of a female cousin with one of his friends.
He carried _billets-doux_ to and fro between them, and made the entire
transaction personally profitable by extorting money from his friend,
persuading him that the fair cousin had a partiality for presents,
including both money and jewellery, and, of course, appropriating the
funds which were entrusted to him. Graver crimes were soon laid to his
charge. There was a certain dissolute Marquis Maurigi in Palermo who
coveted an inheritance which had been willed to a pious establishment,
and knowing Balsamo, to him were his projects confided, and an
expedient was presently forthcoming. Joseph had a relative who was a
notary, and by frequenting his office he found means to forge a will,
bearing every mark of authenticity, in favour of the Marquis, who made
good his claim to the estate, and no doubt liberally recompensed the
skill and pains of his confederate. The falsification was discovered
many years after, but the guilty parties were both of them far away.
It was also rumoured that Balsamo was a party to the assassination of
a wealthy canon, but the matter is exceedingly doubtful. He was many
times arrested on various charges, but eluded justice, either by the
absence of direct proof against him, or by the credit of his relations,
and the exertions of reputable persons of Palermo, who took interest in
his family. It will scarcely be credited that at this period Balsamo
was only fourteen years of age. Naturally endowed with artistic
aptitudes, he soon began to give lessons in drawing, and seems to have
been many times on a fair way to reformation. His skill in arms is also
acknowledged, but, conscious of his superiority, his street brawls
frequently ended in duels; his impetuosity even prompted him to take up
the gauntlet for his companions, and he scorned danger.
The most notorious of his youthful exploits, and that which caused
him to commence his life-long wanderings, was the adventure of the
concealed treasure, which has been variously related.
An avaricious goldsmith, named Marano, resided at Palermo. He was
a weak, superstitious man--a believer in magic, says M. Louis
Figuier--and he was much attracted by the mystery which, even at
this period, is declared by Figuier to have surrounded the life and
escapades of Balsamo, who already posed as an initiate of the occult
sciences. Joseph was now seventeen years of age, of handsome mien and
haughty carriage, speaking little, but holding his hearers spell-bound
by the magnetic fascination of his glance. He had been seen evoking
spirits; he was believed to converse with angels, and to obtain by
their agency an insight into the most interesting secrets. He had,
in fact, radically changed; the common rogue was developing into the
transcendental impostor. Marano lent an attentive ear to the stories
concerning him, and burned with anxiety to behold “the friend of the
celestial spirits.” The first interview took place in the lodging of
Balsamo; the goldsmith fell on his knees before him, and Balsamo, after
receiving his homage, raised him condescendingly from the ground, and
demanded in a solemn manner why he had come to him.
“Thanks to your daily communion with spirits, you will easily know,”
answered Marano, “and you should have no difficulty in assisting me to
recover the money which I have wasted among false alchemists, or even
to procure me more.”
“I can perform this service for you, provided you believe,” said
Balsamo, with composure.
“Provided I believe!” cried the goldsmith; “I believe, indeed.”
An appointment was made for the next day in a meadow beyond the town,
and the interview ended without another word.
This version of the story is more romantic than probable, and we owe
it to the vivacity of a Frenchman’s imagination, which is never more
brilliant than when employed in the perversion or embellishment of
history. According to the more sober _Aventures de Cagliostro_, Marano
had for some time been acquainted with the youthful charlatan, who
sought him one day at his own residence, and said to him: “You are
aware of my communications with the supernal spirits; you are aware of
the illimitable potency of the incantations to which I devote myself.
Listen! In an olive field, at no great distance from Palermo, there is
a buried treasure according to my certain knowledge, and by the help of
a ceremonial evocation I can discover the precise spot where the spade
of the seeker should be driven in. The operation, however, requires
some expensive preliminaries; sixty ounces of gold are absolutely
needed. Will you place them at my disposal?”
Marano declaimed against the preposterous extravagance of the demand,
maintaining that the herbs and drugs utilised in alchemical experiments
were exceedingly moderate in their price.
“’Tis well,” said Balsamo, coldly. “The matter is soon settled; I shall
enjoy the vast treasure alone. A blessing when shared is but half a
blessing for those who participate in it.”
On the morrow, however, Marano sought out the enchanter, having been
agonised by the gold fever the whole night.
“I am furnished with the sum you require,” he said. “But I pray you to
bargain a little with the spirits, and endeavour to beat them down.”
“Do you take them for sordid speculators?” cried the magician,
indignant. “The devil is no Jew, though he abode full long in Judea. He
is a magnificent seigneur, living generously in every country of the
world. Treat him with respect, he returns a hundredfold. I shall find
elsewhere the sixty ounces of gold, and can afford to dispense with
your assistance.”
“It is here,” said Marano, drawing quickly a leather bag from his
pocket, and the arrangements were soon made.
At moonlight they repaired to the olive field, where Balsamo had
secretly made preparations for the approaching evocation. The
incantatory preliminaries were sufficiently protracted, and Marano
panted with terror under the influence of the magical charms, till
it seemed to him that the very earth shivered beneath his feet and
phantoms issued from the ground. Marano fell prostrate on his face, an
action apparently foreseen, for there and then the wretched goldsmith
was belaboured unmercifully with sticks by the infernal spirits, who
left him at length for dead, taking flight in the company of the
enchanter, and fortified by the possession of the sixty ounces of gold.
On the morrow, the goldsmith, fortunately discovered by muleteers, was
carried disconsolately home, and forthwith denounced Balsamo to the
law. The adventure spread everywhere, but the magician had sailed for
Messina.
These are the facts of the case, but the mendacious chronicle of
Louis Figuier, alchemical critic and universal manufacturer of light
scientific literature, offers us a far more ornate and attractive
version. There the adept and his miserable dupe repair to a place
appointed at six o’clock in the morning, Balsamo in dignified
silence motioning the goldsmith to follow him, and proceeding with a
pre-occupied aspect along the road to the chapel of Saint Rosalia for
the space of a whole hour. They stopped at length in the middle of a
wild meadow, and in front of a grotto, before which Balsamo extended
his hand, and solemnly declared that a treasure was buried within it
which he himself was forbidden to touch, which was guarded by devils of
hell, which devils might, however, be bound for a brief period by the
angels who commonly responded to his potent magical call.
“It only remains to be ascertained,” he remarked in conclusion,
“whether you will scrupulously fulfil the conditions which must be
imposed on you. At that price, the treasure may be yours.”
The credulous goldsmith impetuously implored him to name them.
“They cannot be learned from my lips,” said Balsamo loftily. “On your
knees, in the first place!”
He himself had already assumed the posture of adoration. Marano
hastened to imitate him, and immediately a clear, harmonious voice in
the celestial altitude pronounced the following words--words, says the
Frenchman, more delicious in the ears of the covetous miser than all
the symphonies of aërial choirs.
“Sixty ounces of pearls, sixty ounces of rubies, sixty ounces of
diamonds, in a coffer of enchased gold, weighing one hundred and twenty
ounces. The infernal genii who protect this treasure will place it in
the hands of the worthy man whom our friend has brought, if he be fifty
years of age, if he be no Christian--if--if--if--” and a series of
conditions followed which Marano perfectly united in his own penurious
person, even to the last, which was thus formulated:--“And if he
deposit at the entrance of the grotto, before setting foot therein,
sixty ounces of gold to propitiate the guardians.”
“You have heard,” said Balsamo, who, already on his feet, began to
retrace his steps, completely ignoring the utter stupefaction of his
companion.
“Sixty ounces of gold!” ejaculated the miser with a dismal groan, and
torn by the internal conflict of avarice and cupidity; but Balsamo
heeded the exclamation as little as the groan, and regained the town in
silence.
When they were on the point of separating, Marano appeared to have
resolved.
“Grant me one instant!” he cried in a piteous voice. “Sixty ounces of
gold? Is that the irrevocable condition?”
“Undoubtedly,” said Balsamo, carelessly.
“Alas! alas! And at what hour to-morrow?”
“At six o’clock in the morning and, mark, at the same spot.”
“I will be there.”
This was the parting speech of the goldsmith, and, as it were, the
last gasp of his conquered avarice. On the morrow, punctual to the
appointed time, they met as before, Balsamo with his habitual coolness,
Marano with his gold. They arrived in due course at the grotto, where
the angels, consulted as on the previous day, returned the same
oracles. Balsamo assumed ignorance of what would take place. With a
terrific struggle, Marano deposited his gold and prepared to cross the
threshold. He took one step forward, then started back, inquired if
there were no danger in penetrating into the depths of the cavern, was
assured of safety if the gold had been faithfully weighed, entered with
more confidence, and again returned, these manœuvres being repeated
several times, under the eyes of the adept, whose expression indicated
the most uninterested indifference. At length, Marano took courage
and proceeded so far that a return was impossible, for three black,
muscular devils started out from the shadows and barred his path,
giving vent to the most alarming growls. They seized him, forced him
to whirl round and round for a long time, and then while the unhappy
creature vainly invoked the assistance of Balsamo, they proceeded to
cudgel him lustily till he dropped overwhelmed to the ground, when a
clear voice bade him remain absolutely silent and motionless, for he
would be instantaneously despatched if he stirred either hand or foot.
The wretched man did not dare to disobey, but after a long swoon the
complete stillness encouraged him to raise his head; he dragged himself
as best he could to the mouth of the terrible grotto, looked round him,
and found that the adept, the demons, and the gold had alike vanished.
* * * * *
When Balsamo arrived at Messina he was furnished with a very handsome
sum to support the expenses of his sojourn therein, for the lion’s
share of the booty obtained from the goldsmith had, of course, fallen
to himself. He lodged in one of the chief inns near the port, and had
prepared himself for further adventures, when he suddenly remembered
that he had an old and affluent aunt in the town whom he took occasion
to visit, but only to discover that she had recently died, leaving the
bulk of her fortune to different churches of Messina, and distributing
the rest to the poor. Doubtless the dutiful nephew paid to the memory
of this ultra-Christian relation a just tribute of regrets, and anxious
to inherit at least something from a person so eminent in sanctity, he
determined to assume her family name, joined to a title of nobility,
and from that time forward he commonly called himself the Count
Alessandro Cagliostro. His penetrating and calculating mind, says one
of his biographers, understood the prestige which attached to a title
at a period when the privileges of birth still exercised an almost
undisputed influence.
It was in the town of Messina that Balsamo first met with the
mysterious alchemist Altotas, whom in his fabulous autobiography he
represented as the oriental tutor of his infancy. As he was promenading
one day near the jetty at the extremity of the port, he encountered
an individual singularly habited, and possessed of a most remarkable
countenance. This person, aged apparently about fifty years, seemed
to be an Armenian, though, according to other accounts, he was a
Spaniard or Greek. He wore a species of caftan, a silk bonnet, and the
extremities of his breeches were concealed in a pair of wide boots. In
his left hand he held a parasol, and in his right the end of a cord, to
which was attached a graceful Albanian greyhound.
Whether from curiosity or by presentiment, Cagliostro saluted this
grotesque being, who bowed slightly, but with satisfied dignity.
“You do not reside in Messina, signor?” he said in Sicilian, but with a
marked foreign accent.
Cagliostro replied that he was tarrying for a few days, and they
began to converse on the beauty of the town and on its advantageous
situation, a kind of oriental imagery individualising the eloquence of
the stranger, whose remarks were, moreover, adroitly adorned with a few
appropriate compliments. He eluded inquiries as to his own identity,
but offered to unveil the past of the Count Cagliostro, and to reveal
what was actually passing in his mind at that moment. When Cagliostro
hinted at sorcery, the Armenian smiled somewhat scornfully, and dilated
on the ignorance of a nation which confused science with witchcraft,
and prepared faggots for discoverers.
His hearer, much interested, ventured to ask the address of the
illustrious stranger, who graciously invited him to call. They walked
past the cathedral and halted in a small quadrilateral street shaded by
sycamores, and having a charming fountain in the centre.
“Signor,” said the stranger, “there is the house I inhabit. I receive
no one; but as you are a traveller, as you are young and courteous,
as, moreover, you are animated by a noble passion for the sciences, I
permit you to visit me. I shall be visible to you to-morrow a little
before midnight. You will rap twice on the hammer”--he pointed as he
spoke to the door of a low-storied house--“then three times more
slowly, and you will be admitted. Adieu! Hasten at once to your inn. A
Piedmontese is trying to possess himself of the seven and thirty ounces
of gold that are secured in your valise, and which is itself shut up
in a press, the key of which is in your pocket at this moment. Your
servant, signor!” and he departed rapidly.
Cagliostro, returning in all haste, discovered the thief in the act,
and, as a lawful and righteously indignant proprietor, he forthwith
delivered him to justice.