Cagliostro, COUNT ALESSANDRO DI

Cagliostro, COUNT ALESSANDRO DI, an arch-inpostor, who, in the latter half of the 18th century, travelled through Europe, and whose adventures afford considerable insight into the men and manners of his times. He was born at Palermo, of poor parentage, 8th June 1743, and his true name was Giuseppe Balsamo. Carlyle’s picture of him when a boy—‘brass-faced, vociferous, voracious’—is probably accurate, and already prophesies the bold and boisterous quack. When thirteen years old he ran away from school, and was afterwards sent to the monastery of Caltagirone. Here he became assistant to the apothecary, and picked up that scanty knowledge of chemistry and medicine which he afterwards turned to such profitable account. His conduct in the monastery was in keeping with his character, but finding it too contracted a sphere for the development of his ambitious genius, he left it, or was ejected, and for a time led ‘the loosest life’ in Palermo. In 1769 he found it advisable to leave his birthplace; and in company with the Greek sage Althotas, he is vaguely represented as travelling in parts of Greece, Egypt, and Asia. At Rome, ‘his swart, squat figure first becomes authentically visible in the Corso and Campo Vaccino. He lodges at the sign of the Sun in the Rotunda, and sells etchings there,’ very hard up at this time. At Rome, too, ‘the bull-necked forger’ contrived to marry a very pretty woman named Lorenza Feliciani, who became a skilful accomplice in his schemes, and captivated many admirers, while Cagliostro picked their pockets. He now made the tour of Italy with great success as a physician, philosopher, alchemist, freemason, necromancer. Next, he extended his victorious career through some parts of Germany, and especially carried on a lively business in his ‘elixir of immortal youth,’ which became very popular among the ladies. By its virtue the count assured them he had already attained his 150th year, while his young and charming wife often talked affectionately of her son as 'a commander in the Dutch navy.' Through Courland, they advanced triumphantly to the court of St Petersburg, where he seems to have made his first failure; for the Empress Catharine, aided by her Scotch physician, Rogerson—a keen-witted native of Annandale, who sceptically examined his famous 'Spagric food,' and pronounced it 'unfit for a dog'—penetrated his real character, and made him the subject of a comedy. Cagliostro soon found it convenient to vanish. We next find him at Warsaw, discoursing on his pet Egyptian masonry, medical philosophy, and the ignorance of doctors, but he has the misfortune to be unmasked by a certain Count M. This, however, had little effect on the stupid credulity of Cagliostro's dupes—belonging, it must be remembered, to the upper classes, who in that age were at once sensual, infidel, and superstitious—so that they persisted for a time 'in distending his pockets with ducats and diamonds,' which, however, his lavish dissipation soon scattered to the winds—for this prophet of a new physical and moral regeneration, and inventor of an 'invaluable pentagon for abolishing original sin,' was a desperate gambler. In 1780 he went to Strasburg; and soon afterwards we find him in Paris, still founding lodges of 'Egyptian freemasons,' holding nocturnal meetings for the evocation of spirits, and scandalously simulating the character and deeds of a philanthropist. From Paris he came over to England, where he was cordially received by the followers of Swedenborg. On his return to Paris (1785), he became distinguished at court, was intimate with the weak and credulous Cardinal Rohan, and played a prominent part in the affair of the Diamond Necklace (q.v.). This lodged him in the Bastille; but he cleared himself by a statement which gained credit, and, after being liberated, carried on his adventures once more in England, but feebly, the sunshine of success now obviously growing dim; in short, the count, in gloom and foreboding, disappeared from the island. On the Continent, too, the market was closed, a general distrust having been excited by the revelations of one of his dupes. 'At Aix, in Savoy, there are baths, but no gudgeons in them; at Turin he is ordered off by the king; a similar fate befalls him at Roveredo; at Trent we catch a glimpse of him 'painting a new hieroglyphic screen,' which, however, attracts no more the gaping crowd; lower still, 'he pawns diamond buckles; finally, his wayworn wife—in whom, perhaps, because of her womanhood, the enormous lie and quackery first breaks up—'longs to be in Rome by her mother's hearth, by her mother's grave, where so much as the shadow of refuge awaits her.' In May 1789 he entered the city; on the 20th December, the Holy Inquisition detected him founding 'some feeble ghost of an Egyptian lodge.' He was imprisoned, and condemned to death for freemasonry. His sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life in the fortress of San Leone, where, in spite of his 'elixir of immortal youth,' he died 26th August 1795, aged fifty-two years. His wife ended her days in a convent. His Mémoires (Paris, 1785) are not authentic. See the essay (1833) in Carlyle's Miscellanies.