“NATURE’S UNFORTUNATE CHILD”
I
On leaving England in 1786 Cagliostro was doomed to resume the vagabond
existence of his earlier years; with the difference, however, that
whereas previously his star, though often obscured by clouds, was
constantly rising, it was now steadily on the decline.
At first its descent was so imperceptible as to appear to have been
checked. After the manner in which he had been harried in London the
tranquillity and admiration he found in Bâle must have been balm to
his tortured spirit. At Bâle he had followers who were still loyal,
particularly the rich banker Sarazin, on whom he had “conferred the
blessing of a belated paternity,” and whose devotion to him, as
Cagliostro declared in his extravagant way at his trial in Paris, was
so great that “he would give him the whole of his fortune were he to
ask for it.”
It was at Bâle, moreover, that the dying flame of Egyptian Masonry
flickered up for the last before expiring altogether. Under the
auspices of Sarazin a lodge was founded on which the Grand Cophta
conferred the high-sounding dignity of the “Mother Lodge of the
Helvetic States.” The funds, however, did not run to a “temple” as at
Lyons, but the room in which the faithful met was arranged to resemble
as closely as possible the interior of that edifice. Both sexes were
admitted to this lodge, and Cagliostro again transmitted his powers
to certain of the members who, having been selected for the favour
apparently with more care on this occasion than in London, performed
with the greatest success.
It was, however, in the little town of Bienne that Cagliostro seems
to have resided chiefly while in Switzerland. According to rumours
that reached London and Paris “he lived there for several months on a
pension allowed him by Sarazin.” Why he left this quiet retreat, or
when, is unknown. He is next heard of vaguely at Aix-les-Bains, where
the Countess is said to have taken the cure. Rumour follows him thence
to Turin, “but,” says the Inquisition-biographer, “he had no sooner set
foot in the town than he was ordered to leave it instantly.”
Henceforth fortune definitely deserted him. Against the poison in
which Morande had dipped his barbed pen there was no antidote. It
destroyed him by slow degrees, drying up the springs of his fabulous
fortune, exhausting the resources of his fertile brain, withering
his confidence, his ambition, and his heart. But though the game was
played, he still struggled desperately to recover all he had lost, till
he went to Rome, into which he crawled like a beast wounded to the
death that has just enough strength to reach its lair.
The luxury and flattery so dear to him were gone for ever. His journeys
from place to place were no longer triumphal processions but flights.
Dishonoured, discredited, disillusioned, the once superb High Priest
of the Egyptian Mysteries, the “divine Cagliostro,” accustomed to
be courted by the greatest personages, acclaimed by the crowd, and
worshipped by his adherents, was now shadowed by the police, shunned
wherever he was recognized, hunted from pillar to post. All towns in
which he was likely to be known were carefully avoided; into such as
seemed to offer a chance of concealment he crept stealthily. He dared
not show his face anywhere, it was as if the whole world, so to speak,
had been turned by some accident of his magic into the Trebizond that
the black slave of the Arabian days had warned him to beware of.
If this existence was terrible to him, it was equally so to his
delicate wife. The poverty and hardship through which Lorenza Balsamo
passed so carelessly, left their mark on the Countess Seraphina. Under
the pinch of want her charms and her jewels began alike to vanish. At
Vicenza necessity “obliged her to pawn a diamond of some value.”
Rumour, following in their track, mumbles vaguely of petty impostures,
small sums gulled from the credulous, and of shady devices to make
two ends meet, but gives no details, makes no definite charge. If
the rumour be true, it is not surprising that one so bankrupt in
reputation, in purse, and in friends as Cagliostro had now become,
should have lost his self-respect. In the pursuit of his ideal, having
formed the habit of regarding the means as justifying the end, what
wonder when the end had changed to hunger that any means of satisfying
it should have appeared to him justifiable?
At Rovoredo, an obscure little town in the Austrian Tyrol, where he
found a temporary refuge, he did not scruple to make capital out of
his knowledge of both magic and medicine. Here he managed to interest
several persons in the mysteries of Egyptian Masonry to the extent of
being invited to give an exhibition of his powers. He even succeeded
in founding a lodge at Rovoredo, which he affiliated with the lodge at
Lyons, the members of which still believed in him. At the same time,
followers being few and subscriptions small, he resumed the practice
of medicine, making a moderate charge for his attendance and his
medicaments.
But in spite of all his precautions to avoid exciting ill-will or
curiosity, it was not long before his identity was discovered. Some
one, perhaps the author of a stinging satire[46] which from its
biblical style was known as the “Gospel according to St. Cagliostro,”
notified the authorities. The “quack” was obliged to discontinue the
exercise of his medical knowledge in any shape or form; and the matter
coming to the ears of the Emperor Joseph II, that sovereign signed an
order expelling him from the town altogether.
Cagliostro then went to Trent, where there reigned a prince-bishop as
devoted to alchemy and magic as Rohan himself. This little potentate
was no sooner informed of the arrival of the pariah than instead of
following the example of his Imperial suzerain, he invited him to the
episcopal palace. It was an invitation, needless to say, that was
gladly accepted; for a moment, protected by his new friend, it seemed
as if he might succeed in mending his broken fortunes. But while the
prince-bishop was willing enough to turn his guest’s occult knowledge
to account he was not inclined to countenance Egyptian or any other
form of Freemasonry. Accordingly to allay suspicion Cagliostro
foreswore his faith in Masonic observances, sought a confessor to whom
he declared that he repented of his connection with Freemasonry, and
manifested a desire to be received back into the bosom of the Church.
The prince-bishop, in his turn, pretended to believe in this feigned
repentance, boasted of the convert he had made, and, assisted by
the reformed wonder-worker, resumed his quest of the philosopher’s
stone and any other secret his crucible might be induced to divulge.
The little world of Trent, however, which had palpitated like the
rest of Europe over the revelations of the Diamond Necklace Affair
and Morande, was profoundly scandalized. Certain persons felt it
their duty to inform the Emperor how the prince-bishop was behaving.
The free-thinking, liberty-affecting Joseph II could be arbitrary
enough when he chose. Severely reprimanding his episcopal vassal for
harbouring so infamous an impostor, he commanded him to banish the
wretch instantly from his estates.
Judging from the itinerary of his wanderings in northern Italy and the
Tyrol, Cagliostro seems to have intended to go to Germany, hoping, no
doubt, to find an asylum, like Saint-Germain, Weishaupt, Knigge and
many other, at the Court of some Protestant prince, most of whom were
Rosicrucians, alchemists, Freemasons, and revolutionary enthusiasts.
But whatever hopes he may have had in this direction were effectually
dashed by the hostility of the Emperor. Expelled from Trent in such a
fashion he dared not enter Germany.
To turn back was equally perilous. In Italy, where the Church,
brutalized out of all semblance to Christianity by centuries of
undisputed authority, regarded the least attempt to investigate the
secrets of nature as a reflection on its own ignorance, a certain
and terrible doom awaited any one who excited its suspicions. But to
Cagliostro, with fate’s blood-hounds on his track, an Imperial dungeon
seemed a more present danger than an Inquisition torture-chamber. It
was no “Count Front of Brass,” as Carlyle jeeringly stigmatized him,
that was brought to bay at Trent. His courage was completely broken.
Spent in this struggle against destiny, he was no longer able to devise
new schemes and contrivances as of old. Retracing his steps with a sort
of defiant despair, as if driven by some irresistible force to his
doom, he took the road to Rome, where he and his wife arrived at the
end of May 1789.
According to the Inquisition-biographer it was to please his wife,
who desired to be reconciled to her parents, that Cagliostro went to
Rome. If, indeed, the parents of the Countess Seraphina, or Lorenza
Balsamo, as you will, were still living or even resident in Rome, they
were apparently unwilling or afraid to recognize the relationship,
for nothing further is heard of them. It is much more likely that
Cagliostro chose Rome on account of its size, as being the one place in
Italy which offered him the most likely chance of escaping observation.
In so large a city his poverty was itself a safe-guard.
Cagliostro’s first efforts to drive the wolf from the door were
confined to the surreptitious practice of medicine. On such patients
as he managed to procure he enjoined the strictest silence. But in
losing his confidence in himself he had lost the art of healing. The
Inquisition-biographer cites several instances of his failure to effect
the cures he attempted to perform. After “undertaking to cure a foreign
lady of an ulcer in her leg by applying a plaster that very nearly
brought on gangrene,” he had the prudence to abandon altogether a
practice that exposed him to so much danger.
The risk he ran in exploiting his psychic gifts in Rome was even
greater than the peril connected with the illicit practice of medicine.
On leaving Trent he seems to have resolved to renounce Egyptian
Masonry altogether, and he wrote to such of his followers as he still
corresponded with, imploring them to avoid all reference to it in their
letters to him. But the occult was now his only resource, and whether
he wished it or not, he was obliged to turn to it for a living.
In spite of all the efforts of the Church to stamp out Freemasonry
in Italy it still beat a feeble wing. For two years the Lodge of the
Vrais Amis had existed in secret in the heart of Rome itself. This
lodge, which had received its patent from the Grand Orient in Paris
and was in correspondence with all the principal lodges in France, was
really a revolutionary club of foreign origin. It had been founded
by “five Frenchmen, one Pole, and one American,” who, to judge from
the character of the ceremonies they observed at the initiation of
a member, were Illuminés. As a Freemason and an Illuminé himself
Cagliostro must have known of the existence of this lodge before coming
to Rome.
His fear of the Inquisition was so great that before making himself
known to the Vrais Amis he contemplated leaving Rome altogether.
The fall of the Bastille, which occurred about this time, having
inaugurated the Revolution in France, he petitioned the States General
for permission to return there, as “one who had taken so great an
interest in liberty.” At the same time not being in the position to
take advantage of the privilege were it granted, he wrote urgent
appeals for money to former friends in Paris. But in the rapidity with
which the Revolution marched, Cagliostro had ceased to have the least
importance, even as a missile to hurl at the hated Queen. Whether the
petition or the letters ever reached their destination is unknown; in
neither case, however, did he obtain a reply.[47]
With all hope of retreat cut off and starvation staring him in the
face, the wretched man timorously proceeded to seek the acquaintance
of the Vrais Amis. The difficulties and dangers they encountered in
obtaining recruits won for the discredited Grand Cophta a cordial
welcome. Notwithstanding, he refused to seek admission to their lodge,
and contented himself with begging a meal or a small loan of the
members with whom he fraternized.
Even Morande, who had himself experienced the horrors of abject poverty
in his early struggle for existence in London, must have pitied the
victim of his remorseless persecution had he seen him now. In his
miserable lodging near the Piazza Farnese everything--save such
furniture as was the property of the landlord--on which he could raise
the least money had been pawned. Not a stone of the diamonds that had
so dazzled, or scandalized, as Madame de Lamotte maliciously declared,
the high-born ladies of Paris and Strasburg, was left his once lovely,
and stilled loved, Countess. Faded, pinched with hunger, she still
clung to this man, himself now broken and aged by so many calumnies,
persecutions and misfortunes, whose enemies had falsely accused him of
treating her brutally, as she had clung to him for fifteen years--the
first and the last of his countless admirers and followers.
To one of his vain and grandiose temperament the abasement of his
soul must have been terrible as he who had been as good as master
of the splendid palace of Saverne cowered day after day in that
bare attic with hunger and terror, like sullen lacqueys in constant
attendance, and thought of all the past--of the fascinating Cardinal
whose friendship had brought him to this pass and who had now forsaken
him; of Sarazin, the rich banker “who would give me the whole of his
fortune were I to ask for it,” dead now, or as good as dead; of de
Loutherbourg, the Good Samaritan; of the reverent disciples to whom he
had been the _père adoré_, the “master”; of the Croesus’ fortune which
he had lavished so ostentatiously and generously; of the _gaudeamus_
with which the sympathetic crowds had greeted him on his release from
the Bastille; of the miracles of which he had lost the trick; and last
but not least of his fantastic scheme for the regeneration of mankind
which he had promulgated with such enthusiasm and success.
One day at a dinner to which some of his Masonic acquaintances invited
him when the memory of the past was perhaps more vivid, more insistent
than usual, influenced by the festal atmosphere of the occasion,
Cagliostro was persuaded to discourse on Egyptian Masonry. But alas!
instead of exciting interest as in former times his eloquence was
without effect. The ice, however, was broken, and necessity becoming
stronger than his fears he endeavoured to procure recruits in the hope
of maintaining himself and his wife on their subscriptions.
According to the Inquisition-biographer two men whom he approached
resolved to have a practical joke at his expense. They manifested a
lively desire to be instructed in the Egyptian Rite, and Cagliostro,
deceived into the belief that he had to do with men of means, “by a
false diamond, which he took to be real, on the hand of one,” decided
to gratify them. After having explained to them the aims and character
of Egyptian Masonry he proceeded to initiate them in conformity with
the usual ridiculous rites, passing them, as Grand Master, by the wave
of a sword through the three Masonic grades of apprentice, companion
and master at once. But to his mingled terror and mortification when
it came to the payment of the fifty crowns that he demanded as their
subscription fees, they excused themselves in a manner which showed him
only too plainly he was their dupe.
Alarmed lest they intended to inform against him, he thought to avoid
the consequences of detection by confessing to a priest as he had done
at Trent. It was the last effort of a beast at bay. In accordance with
the monstrous principle that the means justify the end confessors have
been known on occasion to betray the secrets confided to them in the
confessional. In this instance, however, there is no proof that the
Church profaned the sanctity of the sacrament to which it attaches
so much importance. It is much more likely that the Inquisition had
discovered Cagliostro’s presence in Rome, and that the men by whom
he had been duped were spies of the Holy Office. On the evening of
December 27, 1789, he and his wife were arrested by the Papal police
and imprisoned in the Castle of St. Angelo.
Cagliostro, it is said, had been warned of his danger anonymously by
some unknown well-wisher. But where could he flee without money? The
consolations of the confessional, moreover, seemed to have allayed his
fears to such an extent that he did not even take the precaution to
destroy any letters or documents that might compromise him.
On the same day that Cagliostro was seized the _sbirri_ of the
Inquisition made a raid on the Lodge of the Vrais Amis. But the
members, who had also received warning, better advised or better
supplied with funds than the ex-Grand Cophta, had taken time by the
forelock and fled.
II
The manner in which the Papal government tried those accused of heresy
and sedition is too notorious to require explanation. In all countries,
in all languages, the very name of the Inquisition has become a by-word
for religious tyranny of the cruelest and most despicable description.
If ever this terrible stigma was justified it was in the eighteenth
century, particularly in the Church’s struggle with the Revolution for
which clerical intolerance was more directly responsible than any
other factor of inhumanity and stupidity that led to the overthrow of
the _ancien régime_.
In the case of Cagliostro, who was one of the last to be tried by the
Apostolic Court, the Inquisition lived up to its reputation. Threatened
and execrated everywhere by the invincible spirit of freedom which
the fall of the Bastille had released, the Jesuits, who controlled
the machinery of the Papal government,[48] strove without scruple to
crush the enemies which their arrogant intrigues had created for the
Church. To them Freemasonry was a comprehensive name for everything and
everybody opposed to them and their pretensions. In a certain sense
they were right, and in France at any rate where the lodges and secret
societies no longer took the trouble to conceal their aims there was
no mistaking the revolutionary character of the Freemasons. So great,
therefore, was the fear and hatred that Freemasonry inspired in the
Church that in seizing Cagliostro the Inquisition never dreamt of
charging him with any other crime. Beside it his occult practices or
the crimes of which, on the assumption that he was Giuseppe Balsamo he
might have been condemned, paled into insignificance.
The fact that the Inquisition-biographer seeks to excuse the Apostolic
Court for its failure to charge him with these offences, on the ground
that “all who could testify against him were dead” proves how slight
was the importance his judges attached to them. Had they desired to
bring him to the gallows for the forgeries of Balsamo, the judges of
the Inquisition would have found the necessary witnesses. As a matter
of fact they never so much as attempted to identify him with Balsamo,
as they could easily have done by bringing some of the relations of the
latter from Palermo.[49]
The news that Cagliostro had been arrested as a revolutionary agent
caused great excitement. As the Papal government took care to foster
the belief that he was connected with all the events that were
occurring in France, the unfortunate Grand Cophta of Egyptian Masonry
suddenly acquired a political importance he had never possessed.
“Arrested,” says the _Moniteur_, “he evoked as much interest in Rome
as he had formerly done in Paris.” In all classes of society he became
once more the chief topic of conversation.
It was reported that before his arrest he had written a circular letter
to his followers, of whom he was popularly supposed to have many in
Rome itself, calling upon them to succour him in case he should fall
into the hands of the Inquisition, and if necessary to set fire to
the Castle of St. Angelo or any other prison in which he might be
confined. Even from his dungeon, “which was the same as the one that
the alchemist Borri had died in a century earlier,” he was said to have
found the means to communicate with his accomplices without. According
to the _Moniteur_ “a letter from him to a priest had been intercepted
which had led to the detection of a conspiracy to overthrow the Papal
monarchy.”
Whether the report was true or not, the Papal government, which had
probably circulated it, made it the excuse to arrest numerous persons
it suspected. These mysterious arrests caused a general feeling of
uneasiness, which was increased by rumours of more to follow. Fearing,
or affecting to fear, a rising the Papal government doubled the guards
at the Vatican, closed the Arsenal, which was usually open to the
public, and surrounded St. Angelo with troops. There was even talk of
exiling all the French in Rome.
It required no gift of prophecy to foretell the fate of the unhappy
creature who was the cause of all this excitement. From the first it
was recognized that he had not the ghost of a chance. Two papal bulls
decreed that Freemasonry was a crime punishable by death. To convict
him, moreover, the Inquisition had no lack of proof. Laubardemont,
Cardinal Richelieu’s famous police-spy, deemed a single compromising
line sufficient to hang a man. In Cagliostro’s case, thanks to his
singular lack of prudence in not destroying his papers, the documents
seized on his arrest were a formidable _dossier_. Nevertheless, before
dispatching their luckless victim the “Holy” Inquisition played with
him, like a cat with a mouse, for over a year.
As usual at all Inquisition trials the _forms_ of justice were
observed. Permission was granted Cagliostro to choose two lawyers to
defend him. This privilege, however, was a mockery, for his choice was
in reality limited to certain officials especially appointed by the
Apostolic Court to take charge of such cases as his. They were not free
to acquit; at most their defence could only be a plea for mercy. In
the present instance, if not actually prejudiced against their client,
they certainly took no interest whatever in him. Aware that he was
utterly incapable of paying them for their services, they grudged the
time they were obliged to devote to him. Their defence consisted in
advising him to acknowledge his guilt and throw himself on the mercy of
his judges.
Nor were the witnesses he was likewise permitted to summon in his
defence to be depended on. At Inquisition trials all witnesses,
fearing lest they should themselves be transformed into prisoners,
turned accusers. Before the terrible judges of the Holy Office, whose
court resembled a torture-chamber rather than a court of justice,
even his wife testified against him.[50] But though surrounded with
indifference, contempt or hate, and threatened with death, Cagliostro
did not abandon hope. His spirit was not yet wholly broken. The terror
in which he had lived so long gave place to rage. Caught in the gin of
the Inquisition he defended himself with the fury born of despair, and
something of his old cunning.
According to the Inquisition-biographer, when he was examined for the
first time four months after his arrest “he burst into invectives
against the Court of France to which he attributed all the misfortunes
he had experienced since the Bastille.” He accused the witnesses of
being his enemies, and on being told that his wife had “confessed” he
denounced her as a traitress. But the next moment, as if realizing what
she must have been made to suffer, “he burst into tears, testified the
liveliest tenderness for her, and implored the favour of having her as
a companion in his cell.”
“One may well imagine,” reports the Inquisition-biographer, “that this
request was not granted.” One may indeed! According to the _Moniteur_
he also asked to be bled, placed in a larger cell, allowed fresh
linen,[51] a fire and a blanket. The first and the last alone were
granted him, for the Inquisition had no desire to have him die before
they had finished trying him. As, however, his judges professed to be
deeply concerned for the health of his soul, when to the above request,
he added one for “some good book,” no objection was made to satisfy
him. He was, therefore, given three folio volumes on “the defence of
the Roman Pontificate and the Catholic Church.”[52]
Cagliostro took the cynical hint, and after reading the book manifested
the deepest contrition, admitted that Freemasonry was a veritable
crime, and the Egyptian Rite contrary to the Catholic religion. “No
one, however,” says the Inquisition-biographer, “believed him, and if
he flattered himself on recovering his liberty by this means he was
mistaken.” Perceiving that this act of repentance, far from being of
any avail, only served to furnish his enemies with fresh weapons, he
declared that “everything he had done in his life had been done with
the consent of the Almighty, and that he had always been faithful to
the Pope and the Church.”
Unhappily for him, however, he had to deal with men of a very
different type to those who composed the Parliament of Paris. Nothing
he could say would satisfy them. “I will confess whatever you wish
me to,” he said. Told that the Inquisition only desired the “truth,”
he declared that all he had said was true. He demanded to be brought
before the Pope himself. “If his Holiness would but hear me,” he said,
“I prophesy I should be set at liberty this very night!”
And who shall gainsay him? With Cardinals and Prince-Bishops steeped in
alchemy and the occult, perhaps even the Pope might have been tempted
to exploit the extraordinary knowledge and faculties of his famous,
mysterious prisoner. It would not have been the first time that the
philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life had been sought by a Papal
sovereign. At any rate Cagliostro’s request to be brought before Pius
VI was not granted. The judges of the Inquisition were taking no risks
calculated to cheat them of their prey.
But to give all the details of this trial as related by the
Inquisition-biographer, who was evidently himself one of the judges,
would be tedious. Suffice it to say, Cagliostro “confessed,” retracted,
and “confessed” again, “drowning the truth in a flood of words.” One
day he would acknowledge that Egyptian Masonry was a huge system of
imposture which had as its object the destruction of throne and altar.
The next he declared that it was a means of spreading the Catholic
religion, and as such had been recognized and encouraged by Cardinal de
Rohan, the head of the Church in France.
As regards his own religious convictions, which, by catechizing him
on the cardinal virtues and the difference between venial and mortal
sins, the Inquisition-biographer asserts to be the chief object of
the trial, they were those of the enlightened men of his century.
“Questioned,” he declared he believed all religions to be equal, and
that “providing one believed in the existence of a Creator and the
immortality of the soul, it mattered not whether one was Catholic,
Lutheran, Calvinist, or Jew.” As to his political opinions, he
confessed to a “hatred of tyranny, especially of all forms of religious
intolerance.”
At length, on March 21, 1791, the Inquisition judges brought their
gloomy farce to an end. As an instance of the hatred of the Papal
government for secret societies and especially for Freemasonry,
Cagliostro’s sentence is worth quoting in full--
“Giuseppe Balsamo, attainted and convicted of many crimes, and of
having incurred the censures and penalties pronounced against heretics,
dogmatics, heresiarchs, and propagators of magic and superstition, has
been found guilty and condemned to the said censures and penalties as
decreed by the Apostolic laws of Clement XII and Benedict XIV, against
all persons who in any manner whatever favour or form societies and
conventicles of Freemasonry, as well as by the edict of the Council of
State against all persons convicted of this crime in Rome or in any
other place in the dominions of the Pope.
“Notwithstanding, by special grace and favour, the sentence of death
by which this crime is expiated is hereby commuted into perpetual
imprisonment in a fortress, where the culprit is to be strictly guarded
without any hope of pardon whatever. Furthermore, after he shall have
abjured his offences as a heretic in the place of his imprisonment he
shall receive absolution, and certain salutary penances will then be
prescribed for him to which he is hereby ordered to submit.
“Likewise, the manuscript book which has for its title _Egyptian
Masonry_ is solemnly condemned as containing rites, propositions,
doctrines, and a system which being superstitious, impious, heretical,
and altogether blasphemous, open a road to sedition and the destruction
of the Christian religion. This book, therefore, shall be burnt by the
executioner, together with all the other documents relating to this
sect.
“By a new Apostolic law we shall confirm and renew not only the laws of
the preceding pontiffs which prohibit the societies and conventicles
of Freemasonry, making particular mention of the Egyptian sect and of
another vulgarly known as the Illuminés, and we shall decree that the
most _grievous corporal punishments_ reserved for heretics shall be
inflicted on all who shall associate, hold communion with, or protect
these societies.”
Throughout Europe, which was everywhere impregnated with the doctrines
of the Revolution, such a sentence for such a crime at such a time
created a revulsion of feeling in Cagliostro’s favour. His fate,
however, evoked less sympathy for him than indignation against Rome. An
article in the _Feuille Villageoise_ best expresses the general opinion.
“The Pope,” says the writer, “ought to have abandoned Cagliostro to the
effects of his bad reputation. Instead he has had him shut up and tried
by charlatans far more dangerous to society than himself. His sentence
is cruel and ridiculous. If all who make dupes of the crowd were
punished in this fashion, precedence on the scaffold should certainly
be granted to the Roman Inquisitors.”
* * * * *
That the trial of Cagliostro was really intended by the Papal
government as a proof of its determination to show no quarter
in its war against the Freemasons may be gathered from the
Inquisition-biographer’s _Vie de Joseph Balsamo_, which is less a
life of Balsamo or Cagliostro, as it purports to be, than a furious
attack on Freemasonry, which is depicted in the blackest and most
odious colours. Its publication exasperated the secret societies in
Lombardy and they were emboldened by the progress of the Revolution to
publish a reply. “This pamphlet,” says the _Moniteur_, “appeared under
the auspices of the Swiss government and produced such a sensation
throughout Italy, and particularly in Rome, that the Conclave,
terrified at the revolutionary fury it had awakened, instructed its
agents to buy up every copy they could find.”
The Conclave would have been better advised to suppress the work of
the Inquisition-biographer. The account it contains of Cagliostro’s
trial completely justifies the popular belief in the bigotry, cruelty,
tyranny, and total lack of the Christian spirit that characterized the
proceedings of the Holy Inquisition.
III
For some time after his trial the public continued to manifest
great interest in Cagliostro. The recollection of his extraordinary
career gave to his sentence a dramatic character, which made a deep
impression on the imagination. Speculation was rife as to his fate,
which the Papal government foolishly saw fit to shroud in mystery that
only served to keep his memory alive.
All sorts of rumours were current about him. One day it would be
said that he had attempted to commit suicide; the next that he was
chained to his cell a raving maniac. Again it was rumoured that he
had predicted the fall of the Papacy and was impatiently awaiting the
Roman populace to march on St. Angelo and deliver him. The _Moniteur’s_
correspondent relates that in a terrific storm “in which Rome was
stricken with a great fear as if the end of the world was at hand,
Cagliostro mistook the thunder for the cannon of the insurgents and was
heard shouting in his dungeon, _Me voici! à moi! me voici!_”
Knowing, as he did from his Masonic connection, how widespread was the
revolutionary movement, and what hopes were raised in Italy by the
stirring march of events in France, it is not unlikely that he may have
counted on some popular rising to set him free. That he despaired of
such a deliverance, however, and contemplated recovering his liberty by
his own efforts seems much more probable.
According to Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar who guaranteed the accuracy
of the story, Cagliostro did, indeed, make a bold attempt to escape
from St. Angelo. “Manifesting deep contrition,” says the Prince, “he
demanded penance for his sins and a confessor. A Capucin was sent him.
After his confession, Cagliostro entreated the priest to give him the
‘discipline’ with the cord he wore as a belt, to which the latter
willingly consented. But scarcely had he received the first blow when
he seized the cord, flung himself on the Capucin, and did his best to
strangle him. His intention was to escape in the priest’s cloak, and
had he been in his vigour and his opponent a weak man he might have
succeeded. But Cagliostro was lean and wasted from long imprisonment
and the Capucin was strong and muscular. In the struggle with his
penitent he had time to call for help.”
What followed on the arrival of the jailers is not known, but it is not
likely that the prisoner was handled with gloves.
As a sequel to that frantic struggle for life and liberty, Cagliostro
was secretly sent “in the middle of the night” to the Castle of San
Leo, near Montefeltro. The situation of this stronghold is one of the
most singular in Europe. The enormous rock, whose summit it crowns,
rising on three sides precipitously from an almost desert plain, is
like a monument commemorative of some primeval convulsion of nature.
In early times it had been the site of a temple of Jupiter, the ruins
of which after its destruction by the barbarians became the abode of
a Christian hermit, whose ascetic virtues were canonized, and who
bequeathed his name to it. In the Middle Ages the holy ruins gave place
to an almost impregnable fortress, which at a still later period was
converted into a Papal prison, compared to which the Bastille was a
paradise.[53]
[Illustration: SAN LEO]
In the eighteenth century the condition of the surroundings rendered
it well-nigh inaccessible. The roads leading to San Leo were only
practicable for horses in fine weather; in winter it was only
approached on foot. To accentuate still further this isolation, the
Papal government had taken care that those convicted of sedition or
heretical doctrines, should find there an everlasting seclusion. An
official, commissioned by Napoleon to visit and examine the Italian
prisons, gives an account of the cells, which were partly in the old
castle of San Leo itself and partly excavated out of the rock on which
it stands.
“The galleries,” he reports, “which have been cut out of the solid
rock, were divided into cells, and old dried-up cisterns had been
converted into dungeons for the worst criminals, and further surrounded
by high walls, so that the only possible egress, if escape was
attempted, would be by a staircase cut in the rock and guarded night
and day by sentinels.
“It was in one of these cisterns that the celebrated Cagliostro was
interred in 1791. In recommending the Pope to commute the sentence
of death, which the Inquisition had passed upon him, into perpetual
imprisonment, the Holy Tribunal took care that the commutation should
be equivalent to the death penalty. His only communication with mankind
was when his jailers raised the trap to let food down to him. Here he
languished for three years without air, movement, or intercourse with
his fellow-creatures. During the last months of his life his condition
excited the pity of the governor, who had him removed from this
dungeon to a cell on the level with the ground, where the curious, who
obtain permission to visit the prison, may read on the walls various
inscriptions and sentences traced there by the unhappy alchemist. The
last bears the date of the 6th of March, 1795.”[54]
This is the last definite trace of Cagliostro.
On the 6th October, 1795, the _Moniteur_ states “it is reported in
Rome that the famous Cagliostro is dead.” But when he died, or how, is
absolutely unknown. “That his end was tragic,” says d’Alméras, “one can
well suppose, and his jailers, to make sure that he should not escape,
may have put him out of his misery.” The _Moniteur_ speaks of the
probability of such an end as being a topic of conversation in Rome.
In any case, it seems impossible to believe that he could long have
survived so terrible a doom, which, whatever his offence, was utterly
disgraceful to the government that pronounced it.
This mysterious end, so in keeping with Cagliostro’s mysterious origin
and personality, appeals to the imagination. Nothing excites curiosity
like a mystery. Since his death there have been as many attempts
to lift the veil in which his end is shrouded as were made in his
lifetime to discover the secret of his birth. Of these specimens of
sheer futility, Madame Blavatsky’s is the most interesting, the most
unlikely, and the most popular among the believers in the supernatural
who have allowed their imaginations to run riot on Cagliostro generally.
According to the equally extraordinary High Priestess of the
Theosophists, Cagliostro escaped from San Leo, and long after his
supposed death in 1795 was met by various people in Russia, even
residing for some time in the house of Madame Blavatsky’s father, where
“in the midst of winter he produced by magical power a plate full of
fresh strawberries for a sick person who was craving it.”
Had Cagliostro survived his terrible sufferings in San Leo till 1797,
when the French invaded the Papal States, he certainly would have
been set at liberty. San Leo, to which the Pope’s troops had retired,
was taken by the famous Polish legion under General Dombrowski. The
first thing the officers did on entering the fortress was to inquire
anxiously if Cagliostro, whom they regarded as a martyr in the cause of
freedom, was living.
“They thought to rescue him,” says Figuier, “and perhaps even to give
him an ovation similar to that which he had received in Paris after his
acquittal by the Parliament. But they arrived too late. Cagliostro,
they were told, had just died.”
According to another version, they demanded to be shown his grave, and
having opened it, filled the skull with wine, which they drank to the
honour of the Revolution!
* * * * *
The fate of the inoffensive and colourless Countess Cagliostro was
quite as mysterious, though less cruel, perhaps, than her husband’s.
The Inquisition sentenced her, too, to imprisonment for life. She was
confined in the convent of St. Appolonia, a penitentiary for women in
Rome, where it was rumoured she had died in 1794.
INDEX
Agliata, Marquis, 35, 36
Agrippa, Cornelius, 80
Alba, Duke of, 13, 16
Albertus Magnus, 80
d’Alembert, 193
Alméras, Henri d’, 5, 146, 170, 201 _note_, 233, 306
Althotas, 32, 33, 236-240
Aquino, Chevalier d’, 184, 240, 241
Aubert & Co., J. F., 22
Aylett, 68-72, 272
Bachaumont, 262
Bacon, Roger, 79
Badioli, 64, 66, 67
Bailly, 97
Balsamo, Giuseppe, 7, 10-47, 68, 266, 270, 271, 300
----, Joseph. _See_ Giuseppe Balsamo
----, Lorenza, 13, 19, 34-47
----, Maria, 22
----, Pietro, 21, 22
Barthélemy, 256, 259
Beaumarchais, 263
Beauvais, Vincent de, 78
Bécherand, Abbé, 85
Benamore, Dr. Moses, 41, 68, 70, 71
Benedict XIV, 300
Bergeret de Frouville, 256
Besenval, Baron de, 190, 271
Beugnot, Count, 202, 203, 210, 211
Blanc, Louis, 98, 208
Blavatsky, Madame, 76, 306, 307
Blevary, Madame, 49, 50, 52, 53
Blondel, 235
Bode, 141, 142
Böhmer, 220, 221, 232, 233, 244
----, Madame, 150, 151, 152
Boileau, Pierre, 111
Borri, 169, 295
Boulainvilliers, Marquise de, 215
Braconieri, Antonio, 11, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 22
----, Felice. _See_ Maria Balsamo
----, Giuseppe, 22
----, Matteo, 22
Breteuil, Baron de, 225, 226, 254 _note_, 255, 256, 257, 259
Bretteville, Baron de, 33
Brienne, Comtesse de, 197
Brissot, 256 _note_, 260 _note_, 264, 265, 274
Broad, 60, 62, 65, 72
Brugnière, Inspector, 228, 229, 230, 235
Cagliostro, Count--
prejudice against, 2;
Carlyle’s portrait of, 3-5;
the Balsamo legend, 11-18;
troubles in London, 49-73;
becomes a Freemason, 111;
in Leipsic, 117;
character of Egyptian Masonry, 119-125;
reception in Courland, 126;
magic séances in Courland, 129-140;
Countess von der Recke’s opinion of, 141, 142;
in St. Petersburg, 143-147;
visits Warsaw, 148-154;
joins the Illuminés, 156;
arrival in Strasburg, 157;
his benevolence, 163;
cures Prince de Soubise, 164-166;
nature of his cures, 167-169;
visited by Lavater, 170;
Mme. d’Oberkirch’s opinion of, 175;
admiration of Cardinal de Rohan, 176-179;
Sacchi’s libel, 183;
visits Naples, 184;
at Bordeaux, 187;
success in Lyons, 189;
arrives in Paris, 190;
infatuation of Parisians, 192-194;
mystery of his origin and wealth, 195-197;
appearance, 201-203;
character of his séances, 209, 210;
success of Egyptian Masonry, 211-213;
implicated in the Diamond Necklace Affair, 224;
arrest, 228;
in the Bastille, 230;
accused by Countess de Lamotte, 233;
his story of his life, 236-242;
refutes Countess de Lamotte, 244-246;
acquittal, 248;
receives a public ovation, 249;
banished, 250;
returns to London, 251;
_Letter to the French people_, 254;
hostility of French Court, 257;
denounced by Morande, 266;
defends himself, 267-269;
attempts to kidnap him, 272, 273;
ridiculed by Freemasons, 277;
leaves England, 279;
friendship of de Loutherbourg, 280-282;
seeks asylum in Switzerland, 283;
at Rovoredo, 285;
expelled from Trent, 287;
arrival in Rome, 288;
his poverty, 290;
arrested by Papal police, 293;
before the Inquisition, 299;
his sentence, 300;
attempt to escape, 303;
at San Leo, 304, 305;
mysterious end, 306
Cagliostro, Countess, 13, 14, 19, 49, 50, 54, 56, 57, 58, 59, 111,
112, 115, 120, 151, 177, 181, 185, 204, 205, 224, 230, 231, 232,
233, 241, 280, 282, 285, 288, 297, 307
----, Giuseppe, 13, 15, 22
Campan, Madame, 222
Campardon, Émile, 12
Capitummino, Giovanni, 22
Carbonnières, Raymond de, 189
Carlyle, 3, 4, 5, 6, 24, 201, 203, 224, 305 _note_
Cartegirone, Benfratelli of, 23, 25, 30
Casanova, 37, 38, 39
Castropignani, Duke of, 266
Catherine, Empress, 143, 147, 148
Chaix d’Est-Ange, 225, 226
Charles XII, 90
Chateaugiron, Marquis de, 113 _note_
Chesnon, 228, 230, 251
Choiseul, Duc de, 100, 193
Clement V, 108, 113 _note_
----, XII, 109, 300
----, XIV, 241
Condorcet, 99
Convulsionnaires, The, 85, 86
_Courier de l’Europe_, 10, 11, 17, 18, 20, 39, 40, 46, 47, 53, 54,
63, 71, 111, 113, 184 _note_, 196 _note_, 234, 264, 272, 273,
274, 277, 279, 282
----, Editor of. _See_ Theveneau de Morande
Courland, Duchess of, 127, 140
----, Duke of, 127
Créquy, Marquis de, 202, 210
Crisp, 68, 69, 70, 72
Dee, Dr., 80, 81
Diamond Necklace Affair, 119, 142, 214-252
Diderot, 193
Dombrowski, General, 307
Du Barry, Madame, 262, 263
Duplessis de la Radotte, 42
Eddy, Mrs., 76, 166, 281
Egyptian Masonry, 115, 117-126, 131, 132, 139, 142, 143, 144, 149,
156, 160, 185, 188, 189, 197 _note_, 207, 211, 212, 213, 276, 277,
292, 298, 299, 301
d’Epreminil, 232
Erasmus, 80
Esperance Lodge, 67, 111, 113, 114
Feliciani, Lorenza. _See_ Lorenza Balsamo
----, Seraphina. _See_ Countess Cagliostro
_Feuille Villageoise_, 301
Figuier, 85, 123, 166, 194, 210, 212
Fontenelle, 93
Frederick the Great, 97, 104, 108
Freemasons, The, 105, 107, 108, 109, 116, 117, 121, 185, 296
Fry, Miss, 53-68, 71, 72
Funck-Brentano, 201 _note_, 248 _note_
Ganganelli. _See_ Clement XIV
Gassner, 86, 103, 166
_Gazette de Florence_, 12
_Gazette de Leyde_, 11
Gebir, 78, 79
Genlis, Madame de, 172, 206
Georgel, Abbé, 178, 181, 202, 208
Gergy, Madame de, 199, 200
Gillray, 278
Gleichen, Baron de, 123, 159, 163, 164, 180, 198, 199, 205
Goertz, Baron von, 145
Goethe, 43, 45, 46, 305 _note_
Goncourt, 225
Gordon, Lord George, 256, 257, 258, 276
Gotha, Duke of, 110
Gracei, 266
Graham, Dr., 86
Grand Cophta, The. _See_ Count Cagliostro
Grimm, Baron, 190, 197, 200
Hales, Sir Edward, 41
Hardivilliers, 111, 112
du Hausset, Madame, 198
Hermes Trismegistus, 76
Hervier, Père, 186, 187, 188
Houdon, 194
Howarth, 65, 66
Howen, Herr von, 129
Hundt, Baron von, 113
Illuminés, The, 104, 105, 106, 110, 141, 155, 156, 160, 197 _note_,
289, 301
Inquisition, The, 20, 107, 289, 293, 294, 295
Inquisition-biographer, The, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 32, 33, 41, 44, 46,
47, 114, 115, 117, 118, 184, 203, 234, 254, 284, 289, 292, 293, 294,
298, 299
James, 71, 72
Jansenists, The, 84, 85
Jesuits, The, 85, 103, 107, 109, 196, 294
Joseph II, 104, 286, 287
Kant, 94
Kepler, 80
Knigge, Baron von, 105, 106, 109, 156, 287
Knights Templars, The Order of, 108, 113 _note_
Kölmer, 236 _note_
Laborde, 153, 154, 163, 202
Lamotte, Count de, 216, 224, 256 _note_, 272
----, Countess de, 8, 9, 36, 47, 151, 204, 205, 214, 215, 218-228,
233, 234, 235, 242, 244-248, 254, 256 _note_
Laroca, 44
Lasalle, Marquis de, 163, 183
Lascaris, 161
de Launay, 232, 251
Lavater, 86, 140, 170, 171, 203
Lavoisier, 88, 97
Leguay, Mlle., 219, 224, 235
Leibnitz, 96
Lenôtre, 252
_Letter to the English People_, 267, 272
_Letter to the French People_, 254, 255
Lévis, Duc de, 220
Lodge of Antiquity, The, 277
Lodge of Vrais Amis, 289, 290, 293
Louis XIV, 96
---- XV, 198, 199, 262, 263
---- XVI, 195, 215, 217, 223, 224, 226, 258, 259
Loutherbourg, Mrs. de, 280, 281, 282
----, Philip James, 280, 281, 282
Luchet, Marquis de, 120, 123, 144, 145, 146, 158, 194, 206
Luxembourg, Prince de, 191
Mansfield, Lord, 64, 65, 68
Manuel, 172
Marano, 30, 31, 33, 44, 45, 46, 158 _note_
Maria Theresa, Empress, 162, 172, 217
Marie Antoinette, Queen, 8, 10, 15, 195, 216, 228, 233, 249, 250, 252,
254, 270
Marigny, Marquise de, 173
Martello, Matteo, 22
----, Vincenza, 22
Martin, Henri, 98
Martini, 78
Mash, 277
Maurigi, Marquis, 26
Medem, Count von, 126, 127, 129, 130, 131, 134, 135, 136, 137, 140
----, Marshal von, 126, 127, 129, 130, 134, 135, 136, 137, 147
Meiners, 159, 195, 203
Mesmer, 75, 76, 88, 102, 166, 186, 189, 195
Michelet, 203
Millinens, Baron de, 174
Mirabeau, 55, 124, 198, 227, 249
Moczinski, Count, 148, 150, 151, 152
Molay, Jacques, 108, 113 _note_
_Moniteur, The_, 290 _note_, 295, 297 _note_, 298, 302, 303, 306
Montbruel, Chevalier de, 211
Montesquieu, 193
Mother Lodge of the Helvetic States, 283
Motus, 163, 202, 203
Mouncey, Dr., 147
Napoleon, 305
Neubourg, Marie de, 198
Newton, Sir Isaac, 88
Nicastro, Ottavio, 35
Nordberg, M. de, 198
Normandez, M. de, 146
Oberkirch, Baroness d’, 4, 162, 163, 170, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176,
178, 181 _note_, 202, 247
Oisemont, Chevalier d’, 205
Oliva, Baroness d’. _See_ Mlle. Leguay
O’Reilly, 67, 68, 69, 72, 273, 275
Orsini, Cardinal, 13, 16, 33, 241
Orvilliers, Marquise d’, 196
Paracelsus, 79, 81, 169
Pâris, Deacon, 84, 85
Pasqualis, Martinez, 100, 186
Pellegrini, Marchesa. _See_ Lorenza Balsamo
----, Marchese. _See_ Giuseppe Balsamo
Pergolezzi, 40, 51, 272, 273 _note_
Philalètes, The, 212, 213
Philip the Fair, King, 108, 113 _note_
Pinto, Grand Master, 236 _note_, 239, 240, 242
Pius VI, 299
Planta, Baron de, 181 _note_
Poland, King of. _See_ Stanislas Augustus
Polish Legion, The, 307
Polverit, Maître, 204, 232
Pompadour, Madame de, 198, 199, 215
Poninskí, Prince, 148, 149, 151
Potemkin, Prince, 147
Priddle, 64, 70, 275
Prie, Marquis de, 42
Puységur, Marquis de, 76
Quère, 159
Ramon, 191
Recke, Count von der, 127
----, Countess Elisa von der, 4, 127-147, 202
Réteaux de Vilette, 224
Reynolds, 60, 61, 62, 70, 72
Ricciarelli, Count, 111
Rivarol, 225
Roberson, 176, 177
Rogerson, Dr., 147
Rohan, Cardinal de, 8, 163, 164, 165, 171-179, 181, 182, 184, 189,
196, 199, 205, 215-227, 233, 244, 247, 248, 249, 250,
254 _note_, 299
Rosencreutz, Christian, 81
Rosicrucians, The, 81, 82, 94, 95, 109, 201
Rousseau, 97
Sacchi, 47, 182, 183, 275, 276
Sagesse Triomphante Lodge, The, 189
Saint Angelo, Castle of, 32, 293, 296, 303
Saint-Germain, Count de, 87, 198, 199, 200, 287
Saint James of Compostella, 37, 39
Saint-Martin, Louis Claude de, 99, 101, 102, 109, 186
Saint-Médard, Cemetery of, 84, 85
Saint-Remy, Jeanne de. _See_ Countess de Lamotte
Sancotar, 197
San Leo, Prison of, 304, 305, 306, 307
San Rocco, Seminary of, 23
Santa Cruce, Prince of, 146
Sarazin, 156, 163, 197, 283, 284
Saunders, 61, 62, 63, 64, 68
Savalette, de Langes, 212
Saverne, Palace of, 173, 174, 175, 181, 221
Saxe, Marshal, 118
Saxe-Weimar, Prince Bernard of, 300, 303
Schröpfer, 86, 87, 109, 117 _note_
Scieffort, 117
Scott, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 60, 61, 62, 72
---- “Lady.” _See_ Miss Fry
Serres de Latour, 264, 265
Shannon, 64
Soubise, Prince de, 164, 165, 170
Stanislas Augustus, 151, 153, 154
Strict Observance, Order of, 113, 114, 115
Surrey, Lord, 80
Swedberg. _See_ Swedenborg
Swedenborg, Emmanuel, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 124 and _note_
Swinton, 264, 265, 274, 275, 276
Theveneau de Morande, 261-282
Thilorier, 235, 267, 273
Thiroux de Crosne, 232
Tiscio, Don. _See_ Giuseppe Balsamo
Trent, Prince-Bishop of, 286, 287
Ulrica, Queen, 90, 93
Vaillant, 85
Van Helmont, 79
Vauvenargues, 96
Vergennes, Comte de, 188, 264, 265
Villafranca, Prince of, 13
Villeneuve, Arnauld de, 167
de Vismes, 279 _note_
Vitellini, 50, 51, 52, 57, 66
Voisenon, Abbé de, 193
Voltaire, 96, 193, 262
Walpole, Horace, 198, 281
Weishaupt, Adam, 103, 104, 105, 106, 109, 110, 141, 287
York, Cardinal, 33, 241
_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay._
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Prior to the present volume no complete biography of Cagliostro has
been published in English.
[2] _La Mort de la Reine: Les suites de l’affaire du collier._
Translated into English under the title of _Cagliostro and Company_.
[3] On hearing that his wife had been arrested as well as himself in
connection with the Necklace Affair, Cagliostro manifested the wildest
grief.
[4] This book is now very rare. The French version is the more
available. It is entitled: _Vie de Joseph Balsamo connu sous le nom
de Comte Cagliostro, extraite de la procédure instruite contre lui à
Rome en 1790; traduite d’après l’original italien, imprimé à la Chambre
Apostolique_.
[5] About £30.
[6] To infer from this, however, as many writers have done, that
Casanova’s evidence proves Cagliostro and Balsamo to be the same is
absurd. He never met the _Cagliostros_ in his life. In stating that
they were the Balsamos whom he had met in 1770 he merely _repeats_ what
he had read in the papers. His Memoirs were not written till many years
later.
[7] Cagliostro, however, ignored this threat, which one can scarcely
believe he would have done had he had any reason to fear it. Nor did
Pergolezzi put it into effect; and it was not till ten years later,
when Cagliostro returned to London thoroughly discredited, that the
Editor of the _Courier de l’Europe_ got wind of it in some way and
twisted it into his Balsamo theory of accounting for the mysterious
Cagliostro. Whether Pergolezzi was living at the time is unknown; in
any case the threat which Cagliostro now ignored contained _no mention
of Balsamo_.
[8] Were all the _suppositions_ on which the general opinion of
Cagliostro is based as reasonable as the present, there would be no
cause for complaint on that score.
[9] One of the symbols of the Masons was a cross on which were the
letters L.P.D. which were interpreted by the priests to mean _Lilia
Pedibus Destrue_, Trample the Lilies under-foot.
[10] This statement rests solely on the word of the Editor of the
_Courier de l’Europe_, who cited it as one of his reasons for
identifying Cagliostro with Balsamo. The latter, it may be recalled,
had passed as a colonel in the Prussian service during the time he was
connected with the forger Agliata.
[11] His diploma, for which he paid five guineas, was formerly in
the celebrated collection of autographs belonging to the Marquis de
Châteaugiron.
[12] As mentioned in the previous chapter, the Order of the Knights
Templar was suppressed in the fourteenth century by Pope Clement V,
Jacques Molay, the Grand Master, being burnt alive by King Philip the
Fair of France.
[13] Schröpfer’s name is generally associated with this prediction.
As he died, however, in 1774, nearly five years before--a date easily
ascertainable--some idea may be gathered of the slight importance most
writers on Cagliostro have attached to accuracy.
[14] The stories told of Swedenborg are quite as fantastic as any
concerning Cagliostro. “He was walking,” says Brittan in _The
Shekinah_, “one day along Cheapside with a friend, a person of great
worth and credit (who afterwards related the incident), when he was
suddenly seen to bow very low to the ground. To his companion’s
question as to what he was about, Swedenborg replied by asking him if
he had not seen Moses pass by, and that he was bowing to him.”
[15] The “magic” nail held by the child has a strong family resemblance
to Mesmer’s _baquet divinatoire_. The famous _discovery_ of Mesmer,
it is scarcely needless to say, was merely an attempt to explain
scientifically powers the uses of which had been known to alchemists
from time immemorial.
[16] As all the above-mentioned rumours--which, be it understood,
were voiceless till the Diamond Necklace Affair--are hostile, it may
be inferred that Cagliostro’s visit to St. Petersburg was, to say the
least, a failure. This impression is confirmed by the fact that on the
publication of the Countess von der Recke’s book, the Empress Catherine
caused it to be translated into Russian.
[17] This seems to have been suggested to de Luchet by the _Courier
de l’Europe_, which stated that Cagliostro, on becoming a Freemason,
described himself as “Colonel of the Brandenburg regiment.”
[18] As an agent of the Illuminés, Cagliostro would have been quite
free to found lodges of Egyptian Masonry. Many Egyptian Masons were
also Illuminés, notably Sarazin of Bâle, the banker of both societies.
In joining the Illuminés, therefore, Cagliostro would not only have
furthered their interests, but have received every assistance from them
in return.
[19] The story that it was interrupted by the sudden appearance of
Marano, furiously demanding of Cagliostro the sixty ounces of gold that
Giuseppe Balsamo had defrauded him of years before in Palermo, is a
pure invention of the Marquis de Luchet.
[20] Motus, another contemporary, gives the number as “over fifteen
hundred.”
[21] This charge is cited by Carlyle as an instance of the baseness of
Cagliostro’s character. But as a matter of fact, the charge, like most
of the others made against him, proves on investigation to be without
any foundation. It was the Baron de Planta, one of the Cardinal’s
secretaries, who gave the much-talked-of midnight suppers at Saverne,
“when the Tokay flowed like water.” It is extremely doubtful whether
Cagliostro even tasted the Tokay; his contemporaries frequently mention
with ridicule his abstemiousness. Referring to his ascetic habits,
Madame d’Oberkirch says contemptuously that “he slept in an arm-chair
and lived on cheese.”
[22] This libel attracted considerable attention, and great use was
made of it in Cagliostro’s lifetime by his enemies. Republished during
the Necklace Affair, the Parliament of Paris ordered its suppression
as “injurious and calumnious.” The editor of the _Courier de l’Europe_
afterwards quoted it in his bitter denunciation of Cagliostro, and
advanced it as proof of his identity with Giuseppe Balsamo. It has
since generally been admitted to be a malicious invention.
[23] To doubt these statements on the score of a popular prejudice in
favour of regarding Cagliostro as a liar who never by any chance spoke
the truth is quite ridiculous. Not only is there no proof on which to
base this assertion, but there is not even the least suggestion that
Cagliostro was ever considered a liar by his contemporaries before
the Editor of the _Courier de l’Europe_--himself the biggest of liars
and knaves--took advantage of the passions let loose by the Diamond
Necklace Affair to brand him as such.
[24] A cryptic reference to the Secret Societies, which were the real
source of his wealth. The great success of Egyptian Masonry, of which
the above-mentioned gentlemen were the bankers, more than compensated
him for what he lost by the suppression of the Illuminés in 1784, the
year before he came to Paris.
[25] De Luchet’s fantastic account of the visit paid by Cagliostro and
his wife to Saint-Germain in Germany, and their subsequent initiation
by him into the sect of the Rosicrucians, of which he was supposed to
be the chief, is devoid of all authenticity.
[26] D’Alméras and Funck-Brentano--the latter extremely careless when
writing of Cagliostro--never so much as mention Carlyle.
[27] If it be true that the Count and Countess Cagliostro were really
Giuseppe and Lorenza Balsamo, surely the remarkable change in the
_appearance_, not to speak of the _character_, of _both_, must be
regarded as the most astonishing of all Cagliostro’s prodigies. The
impression he produced from the accounts given above was totally
different from that which Balsamo was said to have produced. As for
his wife, it is preposterous to expect any one to believe that the
pretty demirep Lorenza would have looked as girlish and fresh as the
Countess Seraphina after fifteen years of the sort of life she led with
Giuseppe. As vice and hardship have never yet been regarded as aids
to beauty, those who persist in pinning their faith to the Balsamo
legend will perhaps assent to the suggestion that Cagliostro’s remedies
possessed virtues hitherto denied them.
[28] It is the custom to brand the Countess de Lamotte as infamous, and
judged by moral standards she certainly was. The amazing spirit and
inventions she displayed, however, give a finish to her infamy that
suggest the artist as well as the mere adventuress.
[29] All contemporaries are agreed on this point. “Same figure, same
complexion, same hair, a resemblance of physiognomy of the most
striking kind,” says Target, who defended the Cardinal at his trial.
[30] Marie Antoinette is said to have told Böhmer she could not afford
to buy it, but with her well-known extravagance and passion for
diamonds one cannot help thinking she would have found the means had
the necklace really appealed to her. The fact that Böhmer could find no
purchaser suggests that he had as little taste as brains. The Cardinal,
who like the Queen knew a beautiful object when he saw it, thought the
necklace anything but a beautiful ornament, and when told that the
Queen wanted it, wondered what she could see in it.
[31] The Cardinal was arrested on the 15th, and Cagliostro on the 23rd
August, 1785.
[32] Lamotte alone succeeded in escaping.
[33] The existence of Althotas is now generally conceded. A plausible
attempt has been made to identify him with a certain Kölmer from whom
Weishaupt received lessons in magic, and who was said to be a Jutland
merchant who had lived some years in Memphis and afterwards travelled
through Europe pretending to initiate adepts in the ancient Egyptian
Mysteries. He was known to have visited Malta in the time of the Grand
Master Pinto.
[34] Henry Swinburne, in his _Memoirs of the Courts of Europe_
describing his meeting with Cagliostro, declares that there was
“nothing Jewish” about him.
[35] One, de Soudak, in an interesting review of M. Funck-Brentano’s
_L’Affaire du Collier_, in the Paris _Temps_, April 1, 1902, is the
only modern writer who has ventured to question this verdict. The value
of his opinion may be judged from an article by him in the _Revue
Bleue_, 1899, in which he attempts to identify a mysterious Frenchwoman
who died in the Crimea in 1825 with the Countess de Lamotte, who died
in London 1791, after escaping from the Salpêtrière, to which she
had been condemned for life. Her sentence--the judges were unanimous
in finding her guilty--also included being “whipped naked by the
executioner, branded on the shoulders with the letter V. (voleuse),
and the confiscation of all her property.” The sentences of the others
implicated in this affair need not concern us here.
[36] The _Lettre au peuple français_ was dated the 20th June 1786.
As stated in the previous chapter, Breteuil was the deadly enemy of
Cardinal de Rohan, and encouraged Marie Antoinette in demanding his
arrest of the King.
[37] Nearly all who have written on Cagliostro have erred in stating
that the letter contained the “predictions that the Bastille would be
destroyed, its site become a public promenade, and that a king would
reign in France who would abolish _lettres de cachet_ and convoke the
States General”--all of which actually occurred three years later in
1789. The predictions are the invention of the Inquisition-biographer
to whose short-comings, to put it mildly, attention has frequently been
called. Cagliostro merely says that if in the future he was permitted
to return to France he would only do so “_provided_ the Bastille was
destroyed and its site turned into a public promenade.” A copy of this
letter, now become very rare, is to be seen in the French National
Archives.
[38] Many attempts were made at this very time to kidnap the Count de
Lamotte, who alone of all “wanted” in the Necklace Affair succeeded in
escaping. On one occasion his murder was even attempted. The Countess
de Lamotte herself, who escaped from the Salpêtrière to London and
published the vilest of all the calumnies against Marie Antoinette
perished in jumping out of a window to elude capture. Numerous
instances of the kidnapping of French subjects in England by the French
police are cited by Brissot in his Memoirs.
[39] Both of whom had recently been decoyed to France, where they had
at once been imprisoned.
[40] _Theveneau de Morande: Etude sur le XVIIIᵉᵐᵉ Siècle_ par Paul
Robiquet. By his contemporaries the name of Morande was never mentioned
without an abusive epithet. Brissot, meeting him for the first time in
a restaurant in London, “shuddered instinctively at his approach.”
[41] Morande had one redeeming quality. Royalist to the core, he served
the French Court loyally till the fall of the monarchy. Imprisoned
during the Revolution, he escaped the guillotine by an accident,
and having returned to his native town, retired into a respectable
obscurity.
[42] Whether Thilorier had come to England at the request of Cagliostro
or not is uncertain, but it is now known that he wrote Cagliostro’s
replies to Morande’s charges.
[43] Perhaps Pergolezzi?
[44] Cagliostro’s pretended transmission of his supernatural powers,
as previously stated, was nothing more than the discovery that the
so-called “psychic” faculty, instead of being confined to a few
exceptional people, as was till then generally believed, existed in a
more or less developed state in everybody. Before his time, and in fact
till many years after, the “psychic” faculty was so little understood
that the above phenomenon, familiar enough to spirit-rappers and
planchette-writers of the present day, was believed to be the work of
the powers of darkness whose manifestations inspired terror, of which
familiarity has apparently robbed them now-a-days.
[45] One of his followers, de Vismes, was induced to come to London
from Paris on purpose to act as a decoy.
[46] _Liber memorialis de Caleostro dum esset Roberetti_ contains an
account of Cagliostro’s doings in Rovoredo.
[47] The _Moniteur_, however, was subsequently informed by its Roman
correspondent that he had received bills of exchange from both London
and Paris.
[48] The abolition of their Order was but temporary. It had been forced
upon the Pope by sovereigns whose power in an atheistical age had
increased as his declined. The Jesuits continued to exist in secret,
and to inspire and control the Papacy.
[49] To justify the attitude they adopted the Inquisition-biographer
was accordingly obliged to blacken the character of Cagliostro by
_attributing_ to him the infamous reputation of Balsamo as a means of
emphasizing the odious lives of Freemasons in general.
[50] The Roman correspondent of the _Moniteur_ states that at each
examination of Cagliostro and his wife, the rack was displayed.
[51] In the Bastille he also asked for fresh linen, which was
given him. If he dressed like a mountebank, he was at least always
scrupulously clean.
[52] _Difesa del Pontificato romano e della Chiesa catholica_, by P. N.
M. Pallavicino, Rome 1686.
[53] San Leo is now a well-conducted Italian state prison.
[54] “These facts,” says Schlosser in his _History of the Eighteenth
Century_, “were unknown to Goethe.” The same statement may also be
applied to Carlyle.
Transcriber's Notes:
Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.
Perceived typographical errors have been changed.