III. having died, his successor determined on a closer investigation

of the transmutatory secrets of Borri, who took flight at the rumour, but was arrested on the frontiers of Hungary, and imprisoned at Vienna, where he was claimed by the Papal Nuncio as a fugitive condemned for his heresies. He was sent to Rome, and entombed in the Castle of St Angelo. There he was permitted to continue his alchemical processes, which were pursued unsuccessfully till his death in the year 1695. “The Key to the Cabinet of the Chevalier Borri” has never been actually translated; the adaptation by the Abbé de Villars is, of course, of European celebrity. As to the chemical secrets contained in the original letters, it may be safely concluded that they are few and unimportant. FOOTNOTES: [AI] La Chiave del Gabinetto del Cavagliere G. F. Borri, col favor della quella si vedono varie lettere scientifiche, chimice, e curiosissime, con varie istruzioni politiche, ed altre cose degne da curiosita e molti segreti bellissimi. Cologne (Genève), 1681, 12mo. JOHN HEYDON. This mountebank royalist mystic has no claim to be included among alchemical philosophers, and is only noticed here to advise students that everything relating to alchemy in the whole of his so-called works was impudently stolen from Philalethes. He practised wholesale piracy on his contemporaries and on ancient authors with equal effrontery. The account of his voyage to the land of the Rosicrucians is a mangled version of Bacon’s “Atlantis;” his apologues, epilogues, enigmas, &c., are also stolen goods; in short, whatever is of value in his books is matter borrowed from the highways and byways of occultism, and heaped indiscriminately together. Everything emanating from his own weakly intelligence is utterly contemptible; he was grossly superstitious and pitiably credulous, as may be seen by his medical recipes. He claimed a familiar acquaintance with the most arcane Rosicrucian mysteries, and pretended that he had visited the temples, holy houses, castles, and invisible mountains of the Fraternity. Of all the alchemical liars and of all mystical charlatans who have flourished in England since the first days of Anglo-occultism, John Heydon is chief. LASCARIS. German writers have principally occupied themselves with the transmutations of this singular personage, who so successfully shrouded himself in mystery, that his name, his age, his birthplace, and everything which concerns his private life are completely unknown. He called himself Lascaris, but also adopted other appellations. He claimed an Oriental origin, and as he spoke Greek fluently, he has passed for a descendant of the royal house of Lascaris. He represented himself as the archimandrite of a convent in the Island of Mytilena, and bore letters from the Greek patriarch of Constantinople. His mission in the West was the solicitation of alms for the ransom of Christian prisoners in the East. He appeared for the first time in Germany at the beginning of the eighteenth century, a man seemingly some forty or fifty years old, of attractive mien, agreeable in manner, and fluent in his conversation. Finding himself indisposed at Berlin, he sent for a certain apothecary, who for some reason was unable to attend, and on several occasions was represented by a pupil at the bedside of the stranger. With this youth Lascaris fell into conversation, and a sort of friendship sprung up between them. The apothecary’s pupil had studied Basil Valentine, and had attempted experiments on the principles of this adept. Lascaris recovered, and at the moment of departing from Berlin he took the youth aside, and presented him with a quantity of the transmuting powder, commanding him to be silent as to whence he had derived it, and while forbidding him to make use of it till some time after his departure, assured him that when Berlin unbelievers beheld its amazing effects, no one would be able to tax the alchemists with madness. The name of this young man was John Frederick Bötticher. Intoxicated at the possession of such an unexpected treasure, he determined to devote himself entirely to alchemy. The apothecary, his master, vainly endeavoured to dissuade him from a pursuit which he considered chimerical, for he astonished both him and his friends by changing silver into gold in their presence. The experiment was repeated with mercury for the benefit of a friend of Bötticher, the tale spread, and the apothecary’s pupil became the lion of Berlin, more especially as he spread the report that he was able to compose himself the philosophical tincture. He was summoned before the King, Frederick William I., who wished to witness his performances, but he fled to an uncle at Wittenburg. He was claimed from the authorities of that town as a Prussian subject, but he was now a prize of value, and the Elector of Saxony opposed a counter claim for the possession of his person, and to him Bötticher decided to proceed. He was warmly welcomed, and when his transmutations had been witnessed, the title of baron was conferred on him. He took up his residence at Dresden, living in a style of great magnificence and prodigality, till every particle of his powder was expended, when his extravagance involved him in debt. His servants, whom he was unable to repay, spread the report that it was his intention to take flight, and the purblind Elector, refusing to perceive in this sudden failure of resources a proof that Bötticher was unable to compose or increase the philosophers’ stone, surrounded his house with guards, and detained him practically as a prisoner. At this juncture, Lascaris, who was still wandering in Germany, took pity on the misfortunes of his young neophyte, and endeavoured to extricate him from his embarrassing position by means of a young doctor named Pasch, who was a personal friend of the ennobled apothecary’s boy. Their manœuvres resulted in the imprisonment of Pasch at the fortress of Sonneinstein, while Bötticher was closely confined in another castle at Kœnigstein. Two years and a half passed away. At the end of that time Pasch succeeded in escaping at the expense of his limbs, and died after a few months, bitterly complaining of the treachery of the adept Lascaris, who had deserted him completely in his danger. Bötticher remained in confinement with every opportunity to manufacture the philosophical stone, which, however he failed to accomplish; but what with his apothecary’s training and his prison experiments, he had become skilled in several departments of chemistry. He discovered the process for the production of red porcelain, and afterwards that of white, very superior in quality to the substances already known by that name. These inventions proved as valuable to the tyrannical Elector as the accomplishment of the _magnum opus_. Bötticher was restored to his favour, and again enjoyed his baronial title, but in his liberty he surrendered himself to an immoderately luxurious life, and died in 1719 at the age of thirty-seven years. Bötticher was by no means the only apothecary’s boy who was enriched with the powder of Lascaris, and despatched to preach the gospel of alchemy with practical demonstrations. Godwin, Hermann, Braun, and Martin of Fitzlar are mentioned among these half-initiated labourers, who shone till their stock-in-trade was exhausted, and then disappeared in succession. In the meantime, Lascaris himself was not idle. On the 16th February 1609 he is believed to have changed mercury into gold and gold into silver, a double transmutation, considered by alchemical connoisseurs to be the evidence of an unparalleled adeptship. Liebkneck, counsellor of Wertherbourg, was a witness of this transmutation. In the same year a goldsmith of Leipsic was visited by a mysterious stranger, who is unanimously identified with Lascaris, and who showed him a lingot, which he declared was manufactured by art, and which proved in assaying to be gold of twenty-two carats. It was purified by the goldsmith with antimony, and part of it was presented to him by the unknown as a memorial of the alleged transmutation. Shortly after, a lieutenant-colonel in the Polish army, whose name was Schmolz de Dierbach, and who had inherited from his father a belief in alchemical science, was conversing on the subject at a café, when he was accosted by a stranger, who presented him with some powder of projection. It was of a red colour, and a microscopic examination revealed its crystalline nature. It increased the weight of the metals which it was supposed to transmute to an extent which chemical authorities declare to be physically impossible. The recipient made use of it generously, distributing to his friends and acquaintance the gold it produced in projection. The unknown donor is identified in the imagination of German historians with the mysterious Lascaris, who is supposed, in the same anonymous and unaccountable manner, to have enriched the Baron de Creux with a box of the precious powder, and to have gratified the amateur Hermetic ambition of the Landgrave of Hesse Darmstadt through the commonplace medium of the post. In a word, every anonymous adept who appeared at this period in or about Germany is supposed to be Lascaris. The last of his debtors or victims was the son of a Neapolitan mason, Domenico Manuel, who claims to have been mysteriously initiated into the transmutatory art in the year 1695. He was put in possession of a small quantity both of the white and red tinctures. Being insufficient to really enrich himself, he determined to trade upon the wonders they produced, and obtained large sums from wealthy amateurs for the privilege of beholding the consummation of the great work. He perambulated Spain, Belgium, and Austria, obtaining large sums, under the pretence of preparing the tincture, not only from private individuals, but from the Emperor Leopold and the Palatine Elector. In different places he assumed names that were different. Now he was Count Gaëtano, now Count de Ruggiero; at other times he called himself Field Marshal to the Duke of Bavaria, Commandant of Munich, a Prussian major-general, and by other titles. In 1705 he appeared at Berlin, where he imposed on the King himself for a brief period, after which, unable to ratify his transmutatory engagements, he was convicted of treason and hanged. This occurred on the 29th of August 1709. DELISLE. This artist, whose Christian name is unmentioned by his biographers, is included by Figuier among the emissaries or disciples of Lascaris, and much information concerning him will be found in the _Histoire de la Philosophic Hermétique_ by his contemporary, Langlet du Fresnoy. He was a rustic of low birth in Provence, and he became acquainted with alchemical experiments by entering the service of a gentleman who was believed to be in possession of the stone. This gentleman is supposed to have received the prize from Lascaris. His operations, however, fell under suspicion, and he was forced to quit France. He retired into Switzerland, accompanied by Delisle, who is said to have assassinated him in the mountains, and to have thus got possession of a considerable quantity of the transmuting powder. However this may be, the servant, re-entered France in disguise, and about the year 1708 attracted general attention by changing lead and iron into silver and gold. He perambulated Languedoc, the Dauphiné, and Provence. At Sisteron he connected himself with the wife of a certain Alnys, who eventually shared his fortunes for the space of three years. His renown was increased by the apparent simplicity of his operations. He spread powder and oil over iron, thrust it into the fire, and brought it out a bar of gold. He distributed nails, knives, and rings partially transmuted, and was particularly successful in his experiments with common steel. Cerisy, prior of New Castel, was employed by the Bishop of Senez to collect evidence concerning the truth of these marvels. An old gentleman offered Delisle a retreat at his castle of La Palud, where the alchemist, surrounded by admirers, received the daily visits of the curious. In Lenglet’s “History of Hermetic Philosophy,” there is a letter from the Bishop of Senez to the Minister of State and Comptroller-General of the Treasury at Paris, in which the prelate, who at first was incredulous, professes his inability to resist the evidence of actual transformation performed before himself and several vigilant witnesses, who took every precaution against deception. There is also the Report of M. de Saint-Maurice, President of the Mint at Lyons, who testifies to the following facts. That he was accompanied by Delisle into the grounds of the Chateau de Saint Auban in May 1710, where he uncovered a basket that was sunk in the ground. In the middle of this basket there was an iron wire, at the end of which he perceived a piece of linen with some object tied up in it. He took possession of this parcel, carried it into the dining-room of the Chateau, and by the direction of Delisle he exposed its contents--a blackish earth about half a pound in weight--to the rays of the sun. After a quarter of an hour the earth was distilled in a retort of a portable furnace, and when a yellow liquor was perceived to flow into the receiver, Delisle recommended that the recipient should be removed before a viscous oil then rising should flow into it. Two drops of this yellow liquor, projected on hot quicksilver, produced in fusion three ounces of gold, which were presented to the Master of the Mint. Afterwards three ounces of pistol bullets were melted and purified with alum and saltpetre. Delisle handed Saint-Maurice a small paper, desiring him to throw in a pinch of the powder and two drops of the oil used in the first experiment. This done, the matter was covered with saltpetre, kept fifteen minutes in fusion, and then poured out on a piece of iron armour, which reappeared pure gold, bearing all assays. The conversion to silver was made in the same manner with white powder, and the certificate which testifies to these occurrences was officially signed on the 14th December 1760. A part of the gold manufactured in this manner by Delisle was subjected to refinement at Paris, where three medals were struck from it; one of them was deposited in the king’s cabinet. It bore the inscription _Aurum Arte Factum_. With all his alchemical skill, Delisle was unable to read or write, and in disposition he was untractable, rude, and fanatical. He was invited to Court, but he pretended that the climate he lived in was necessary to the success of his experiments, inasmuch as his preparations were vegetable. The Bishop of Senez, suspecting him of unwillingness rather than inability, obtained a _lettre de cachet_, after two years of continual subterfuge on the part of the alchemist, who was thereupon arrested and taken on the road to Paris. During the journey, his guards, after endeavouring to extort his supposed riches, wounded him severely on the head, in which state, on his arrival at the Bastille, he was forced to begin his alchemical operations, but after a short time he persistently refused to proceed, tore continually the bandages from his wound in the frenzy of his desperation, and in the year following his imprisonment he poisoned himself. His illegitimate son, Alnys, by some means inherited a portion of the powder from his mother. He wandered through Italy and Germany performing transmutations. On one occasion he made projection before the Duke of Richlieu, then French ambassador at Vienna, and who assured the Abbé Langlet that he not only saw the operation performed, but performed it himself, twice on gold and forty times on silver. Alnys made a considerable collection of gold coins, ancient and modern, 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. On the morrow, at the time appointed, he knocked at the door of the little house inhabited by the Armenian. It was opened at the fifth blow without any visible agency, and closed as soon as the visitor had entered. Cagliostro cautiously advanced along a narrow passage, illuminated by a small iron lamp in a niche of the wall. At the extremity of the passage a spacious door sprang open, giving admittance into a ground-floor parlour which was illuminated by a four-branched candelabra, holding tapers of wax, and was, in fact, a laboratory furnished with all the apparatus in use among practical alchemists. The Armenian, issuing from a neighbouring cabinet, greeted the visitor, inquired after the safety of the gold, had intelligence of the truth of his clairvoyance, and of the deserved fate of the malefactor, but cut short the expressed astonishment and admiration of Cagliostro by declaring that the art of divination was simply the result of scientific combinations and close observations. He ended by asking his hearer if he denied the infallible certitude of judicial astrology, but the self-constituted count denied nothing except the superior power of virtue over self-interest, whereat the Armenian inquired to whom he was indebted for his training. “I was about to say to the solicitude of my uncles and to the apothecary in the Convent of the Bon Fratelli,” said Cagliostro; “but to what purpose? You undoubtedly know.” “I know,” replied the strange individual, “that you have trained yourself; that the apothecary, equally with your uncles, has but opened for you the door to knowledge. What are your plans?” “I intend to enrich myself.” “That is,” said the other, grandiloquently, “you would make yourself superior to the imbecile mob--a laudable project, my son! Do you propose to travel?” “Certainly, so far as my thirty-seven ounces of gold will take me.” “You are very young,” said the Armenian. “How is bread manufactured?” “With flour.” “And wine?” “By means of the grape.” “But gold?” “I come to inquire of yourself.” “We will solve that problem hereafter. Listen to me, young man. I propose to depart for Grand Cairo, in Egypt. Will you accompany me?” “With all my heart!” exclaimed Cagliostro, overjoyed, and they sat down in large oak chairs, each at one end of the table where the candelabra was placed. “Egypt,” said the Armenian, “is the birthplace of all human science. Astronomy alone had Chaldea for its fatherland; there the shepherds first studied the courses of the stars. Egypt availed itself of the astro-Chaldean initiations, and soon surpassed the methods and increased the discoveries of the shepherds. Since the reign of the Pharaoh Manes, and of his successors, Busiris, Osymandyas, Uchoreas, and Moeris, Egyptian knowledge has advanced with giant strides. Joseph, the dream-reader, established the basis of chiromancy; the priests of Osiris and Isis invented the Zodiac; the Cosmogonies of Phre and Horus revealed agriculture and other physical sciences; the priestesses of Ansaki unveiled the secrets of philtres; the priests of Serapis taught medicine. I might proceed with the sublime enumeration, but to what end? Will you faithfully follow me to Egypt? I hope to embark to-morrow, and we shall touch at Malta on the way--possibly also at Candia--reaching the port of Phare in eight days.” “’Tis settled!” cried the delighted Cagliostro. “I have my thirty-seven ounces of gold for the journey.” “And I not a single crown.” “The devil!” ejaculated Cagliostro. “What matters it? What need to have gold when one knows how to make gold? What need to possess diamonds when one can extract them from carbon more beautifully than from the mines of Golconda? Go to! you are excessively simple.” “Therefore, by your leave, I intend to become your disciple.” The Armenian extended his hand, and their departure was fixed for the morrow. This Altotas, or Althotes, we are assured by Figuier, was no imaginary character. The Roman Inquisition collected many proofs of his existence, without, however, ascertaining where it began or ended, for the mysterious personage vanished like a meteor. According to the Italian biography of Joseph Balsamo, Altotas was in possession of several Arabic manuscripts, and assumed great skill in chemistry. According to Figuier, he was a magician and doctor as well, though others represent him despising and rejecting the abused name of physician. As to his divinatory abilities, he had already given a signal proof of their extent to his pupil, but he showed him that he was acquainted with all his Palermese antecedents. They embarked on board a Genoese vessel, sailed along the Archipelago, landed at Alexandria, where they tarried for forty days, performing several operations in chemistry, by which they are said to have produced a considerable sum of money, but whether by transmutation or by imposture is not apparently clear. Cagliostro’s respect for his master did not prevent him, with true Sicilian subtlety, inquiring as to his own antecedents, till Altotas, weary of resorting to the same stratagems of evasion, declared to him once for all that he was himself in complete ignorance as to his birth and parentage. “This may surprise you,” he said, “but science, which can enlighten us on the part of another, is almost invariably impotent to instruct us concerning ourselves.” He declared himself to be much older than would appear, but that he was in possession of certain secrets for the conservation of strength and health. He had discovered the scientific methods of producing gold and precious stones, spoke ten or twelve languages fluently, and was acquainted with almost the entire circle of human sciences. “Nothing astonishes me,” he said, “nothing grieves me, save the evils which I am powerless to prevent, and I trust to reach in peace the term of my protracted existence.” He confessed that his name of Altotas was self-chosen, yet was it truly his. His early years had been passed on the coast of Barbary, near Tunis, where he belonged to a Mussulman privateer, who was a rich and humane man, and who had purchased him from pirates, by whom he had been stolen from his family. At twelve years of age he spoke Arabic like a native, read the Koran to his master, who was a true believer, studied botany under his direction, and learned the best methods for making sherbet and coffee. A post of honour was in store for him in the household of his master; but destiny decreed that when Altotas was sixteen, the worthy Mussulman should be gathered to his fathers. In his will he gave the young slave his liberty, and bequeathed him a sum which was equivalent to six thousand _livres_, wherewith Altotas quitted Tunis to indulge his passion for travelling. Cagliostro represented that he had followed his instructor into Africa and the heart of Egypt, that he visited the pyramids, making the acquaintance of the priests of different temples, and penetrating into the arcana of their mysterious sanctuaries. Moreover, he declares himself to have visited, during the space of three years, all the principal kingdoms of Africa and Asia. These statements are identical in their value with the romantic story of his education in the palace of the muphti at Medina. It is altogether doubtful whether he ever visited Arabia, which was in any case the extreme limit of his wanderings, and he is subsequently discovered at Rhodes still in the society of Altotas, and pursuing, in common with that mysterious being, his doubtful chemical operations. At Malta they had letters of introduction to the Grand Master, Pinto, and tarried for some time to work in his laboratory, for the “supreme chief of Maltese chivalry” was infatuated with alchemical experiments, and, after the fashion of that extravagant period, had a strong bias towards the marvellous. The history of the failure or success of the errant adepts remains in the laboratory of the Grand Master; but from this moment Altotas, the chemist and alchemist--Altotas, the phenomenal, the wise man, the scientist--disappears completely. “Malta was his sepulchre, or haply the place of his apotheosis.” “There,” says the Count, in his Memoir, “it was my misery to lose my best friend, the most wise, the most illuminated of mortals, the venerable Altotas. He clasped my hands shortly before his death. ‘My son,’ he said, in a failing voice, ‘keep ever before thine eyes the fear of the Eternal and the love of thy neighbour. Thou wilt soon learn the truth of all which I have taught thee.’” With every mark of respect on the part of the Grand Master, and accompanied by the Chevalier d’Aquino, of the illustrious house of Caramania, and himself a Knight of Malta, Cagliostro repaired to Naples, where he supported himself for some time with money which had been presented to him by Pinto, and perhaps by loans from his possibly opulent companion, who, however, eventually quitted him to proceed into France. In Naples Cagliostro met with a Sicilian prince who was infected by the prevalent gold fever, and was so enraptured with the high-sounding theories of Cagliostro that he invited him to his chateau in the neighbourhood of Palermo, where they might pursue their operations in common. It was imprudent, but the pupil of the great Altotas could not resist the desire to revisit his native land. He tarried a certain period with his companion, but going one day into Messina, he encountered an old acquaintance, a certain dissolute priest, his confederate in the affair of Marano, and who had, in fact, acted as one of the sable fiends whose stout clubs had agonised the unfortunate goldsmith. The adventurer warned Cagliostro not to enter Palermo, where justice was highly offended at his youthful indiscretions. He persuaded him to join fortunes with himself, return to Naples, and there open a gaming-house for the benefit, or rather for the bleeding, of the wealthy foreigners who visited Italy. This method of gold-making was quite after the heart of his hearer, who soon took his leave of the Sicilian prince, but they were regarded with so much suspicion by the Neapolitan Government that they retired into the Papal states. Cagliostro’s companion had, however, received the tonsure, and he trembled for his safety on the consecrated ground which was the stronghold of the Holy Inquisition, so he hastened his departure to less orthodox places, and does not figure further in the chequered history of his brother in chicanery. Cagliostro remained, and is said to have assumed several different characters, occasionally including the sacerdotal habit. According to some accounts, he made himself remarkable for his extreme piety, visiting all the churches, fulfilling the duties of religion, and frequenting the palaces of cardinals. By means of some letters of recommendation which he had brought with him from Naples, he obtained access to several persons of distinction, among others to the Seneschal de Breteuil, at that time Ambassador from Malta to Rome, and who, hearing of his former connection with the Grand Master, received him with much warmth, and procured him other honourable connections. One illustrious dupe ensured others, and we find him in a short time established in the Holy City, retailing wonderful recipes and specifics for all the diseases which afflict fallen humanity in Rome and the universe. Crowns and ducats flowed in upon him; he lived in some state and luxury, refraining, however, from scandalous enjoyments. The Italian biography which represents the opinions, embodies the researches, and champions the cause of the Inquisition, draws, however, a different picture to those of Saint-Felix and Louis Figuier. “He employed himself at this period,” says this doubtful, because indisputably biassed, authority, “in making drawings on paper, the outlines of which were produced by means of a copperplate engraving, and afterwards were filled up with Indian ink. These he sold as designs made by means of the pen alone. Having taken up his abode at the Sign of the Sun, in the neighbourhood of the Rotunda, he quarrelled with one of the waiters and suffered imprisonment for three days.” Whatever these statements are worth, there is no doubt hanging over the most important incident of his Roman career. It was in that place and at this period that he first beheld the young and beautiful Lorenza Feliciani, and having in two days fallen violently in love with her, he demanded her in marriage from her father, who, fascinated by his birth, his aristocratic name, and opulent appearance, consented, together with the lady. The marriage took place, not without _éclat_, says one section of the witnesses, and the pair resided in the house of the father-in-law. The Italian life, minimising to the uttermost the success of Cagliostro, says that he received as a dower a trifling fortune proportionate to their condition. According to the testimony of all the biographers, inquisitorial or otherwise, Lorenza was not only young and beautiful, but “rich in every quality of the heart, being tender, devoted, honest, and modest;” but her husband conceived the diabolical design of advancing his fortunes at the expense of her honour, and in private conversation took occasion to rally her notions of virtue, which he sought to undermine. The first lesson which the young bride received from her husband, according to her own confession, was intended to instruct her in the means of attracting and gratifying the passions of the opposite sex. The most wanton coquetry and the most lascivious arts were the principles with which he endeavoured to inspire her. The mother of Lorenza, scandalised at his conduct, had such frequent altercations with her son-in-law, that he resolved to remove from her house, and in other quarters found it a simpler task to corrupt the mind and morals of his wife. Then, according to the Italian author, he presented her to two persons well qualified for the exercise of her talents, having instructed her to entangle them both by her allurements. With one of these she did not succeed, but over the other she acquired a complete victory. Cagliostro himself conducted her to the house destined for the pleasure of the lover, left her alone in his company, and retired to another chamber. The interview and the offers made to her were such as entirely corresponded to the wishes of the husband, but the wife on this occasion did not exhibit a proper instance of conjugal obedience, and upon imparting the whole affair confidentially to her husband, received the most bitter reproach and the most violent and dreadful menaces. He also repeatedly assured her that adultery was no crime when it was committed by a woman to advance her interests, and not through affection for other men. He even added example to precept, by showing how little he himself respected the ties of conjugal fidelity--that is, apparently, he sold himself to lascivious females of advanced age, and on these occasions aroused his dormant passions by drinking a certain Egyptian wine, composed of aromatics which possessed the necessary qualities for the completion of his intention. His wife, hearkening at length to his instructions, was conducted several times to the place where she had formerly proved so disobedient to his orders. She sometimes received, says the same witness, either clothes or trinkets, and sometimes a little money, as the reward of her condescension. One day her husband wrote a letter, in the name of his wife, in which he begged the loan of a few crowns; these were immediately sent. In return for them an interview was promised during the course of the next day, and the lady was faithful to the appointment. Such is the version of this disgraceful business given by the enemies of Cagliostro, but all biographers agree that he corrupted the morals of his wife. Indeed, the only question is whether the transaction took place on the sordid scale described by the Italian writer. Other authorities tell us that his success tempted “a beautiful Roman--Lorenza Feliciani--to share his rising fortunes. Unscrupulous, witty, and fascinating, Lorenza was an admirable partner for Cagliostro, who speedily made her an adept in all his pretended mysteries.” Whatever were her natural virtues or failings, it is highly improbable that she sold her uncommon attractions for such paltry and miserable advantages. The house which was taken by Cagliostro became the resort of sharpers, two of whom, Ottavio Nicestro, who was eventually hanged, and a so-called Marquis d’Agriata, both Sicilians, became intimate associates of their host. With the latter he was frequently closeted for hours together. Their occupation is uncertain; but as Cagliostro’s wealth increased at no ordinary rate, and as the Marquis was an unparalleled proficient in the production of counterfeit writing, they are supposed to have succeeded in forging numerous bills of exchange; and it is, at any rate, certain that the letters patent by which the great charlatan was authorised to assume the uniform of a Prussian colonel, which he subsequently did to his definite advantage, were the production of this skilful miscreant. But a quarrel arose between the three confederates; Nicastro betrayed his accomplices, the Marquis fled from Rome, Cagliostro and the unhappy Lorenza incontinently following his example. Our three fugitives took the road to Venice, reached Bergamo, and there practised several unparticularised rogueries, till their identity was discovered by the Government. The marquis again managed to escape, the others after a short imprisonment were expelled from the town, and being stripped of all their resources, undertook a pilgrimage into Galicia, hoping to cross Spain, through the charity of the clergy and conventual communities. They travelled through the territories of the King of Sardinia, through Genoa, and so arrived at Antibes. From this moment the life of the Count Cagliostro was for several years one of incessant wandering. According to the Italian biographer, as beggary proved unprofitable, Lorenza was again forced by her husband to augment their resources through the sale of her charms. In this way they arrived at Barcelona, where they tarried for six months, the same course of infamous prostitution, followed by Lorenza with the most manifest reluctance, contributing in the main to their support. From Barcelona they proceeded to Madrid, where also certain noble Spaniards proved sensible to the charms of Lorenza. From Madrid they journeyed to Lisbon, and thence sailed to England, where Cagliostro is said to have adopted the profession of a common quack, to have fallen into prison, to have been bought out by his wife, in whose person he still continued to traffic, bartering her charms to every opulent man who wished to become a purchaser; but the frequency of her prostitutions has probably been grossly exaggerated. An English Life of the Count Cagliostro, dedicated, in 1787, to Madame la Comtesse, and written in the interests of the charlatan, gives a singular account of his misfortunes in London, showing that when he arrived there he was in possession of plate, jewels, and specie to the amount of three thousand pounds, that he hired apartments in Whitcomb Street, where he dedicated a large portion of his time to his favourite studies of chemistry and physics, and that all he suffered must be entirely attributed to the profuse generosity and charity of himself and his lady. In 1772, Cagliostro and his wife crossed over to France, accompanied by one M. Duplaisir, who lodged with them at Paris, and seems to have been intimate with Lorenza. But Cagliostro was insatiable, says St Felix. He sold his honour at a high price, and the fortune of Duplaisir melted in the crucible of another’s follies and extravagances. At length, in alarm, the victim took leave of his rapacious guests, not without strongly warning Lorenza to return to her parents, for he had learned to esteem the natural good qualities which she possessed. According to one account, she attempted to follow this advice, but others say that she sought refuge from incessant prostitution with Duplaisir himself. In either case, Cagliostro had recourse to the authority of the king, and obtaining an order for her arrest, she was imprisoned in the penitentiary of Sainte Pélagie, and was detained there several months, during which Cagliostro abandoned himself to a life of congenial dissipation. The sale of a certain wash for beautifying the complexion appears to have procured him a considerable revenue about this period. The imprisonment of Lorenza did not prevent a reconciliation with her husband immediately after her release, which occurred on December 21, 1772, on which date, having obtained under false pretences some magnificent dresses from the _costumiers_, Cagliostro appeared at the ball of a dancing-master in a peculiarly brilliant costume. It is from this period that our adventurer’s success as an alchemist must be dated. Here he found means to form an acquaintance with two persons of distinction, who carried their love of chemistry to a ridiculous excess. He pretended to have discovered some miraculous secrets in the transcendent science, proclaimed himself publicly a depository of the Hermetic Mystery, and posing as a supernatural personage in possession of the great arcanum of the philosophers’ stone and of the glorious life-elixir. This also was the epoch of mesmerism, of which novel science Cagliostro decided to avail himself. After a time, according to the Italian biography, his two dupes entertained suspicions of his veracity, and being in fear of arrest, he obtained a passport under a fictitious name, fled with great precipitation to Brussels, traversed Germany and Italy, and once more arrived at his native city Palermo.[AM] At Palermo he was speedily arrested by the implacable Marano, but the protection of a noble, to whom he had obtained a powerful recommendation while at Naples, ensured his speedy release, and he embarked with his wife for Malta, where, according to the Italian biographer, he ostensibly supported himself by the sale of his pomade for the improvement of the complexion, but his more certain income appears to have been his wife. Monsieur Saint-Félix, however, declares, and this, on the whole, is most probable, that they were received with the most marked distinction by the Grand Master. In either case, they soon retired to Naples, when Cagliostro professed in public for three months both chemistry and the Kabbalah. At Naples they were joined by a younger brother of Feliciani, a lad named Paolo, who was remarkable for his extraordinary loveliness. Cagliostro, seeing that he might prove useful, persuaded him to share their fortunes. They embarked with a great train for Marseilles, and thence proceeded to Barcelona. The star of the great adventurer was now fairly in the ascendant, and from this time he seems always to have travelled in considerable state. He met, however, with no dupes of importance in the peninsula till he reached its extremity, where he cheated a fanatical alchemist of a hundred thousand crowns, under the pretence of a colossal accomplishment of the _magnum opus_. After this signal success he incontinently departed for England, while Paolo, with whom he had quarrelled, returned to Rome, much to the grief of his sister. The commencement of the grandeur of Cagliostro is to be dated from his second visit to London. It was then that he was initiated into masonry, and conceived his titanic project of the mysterious Egyptian rite. Saint Félix accredits him even from the moment of his admission into the order with an unavowed object. Cagliostro, he informs us, was resolved one day to seat himself on the throne of the grand master of a rival and more potent institution, and he appears to have lived henceforth in the light of his high aspiration, and to have eschewed--theoretically at least--all petty rogueries. He incessantly visited the various London lodges, and a correspondence printed in English at Strasburg during the year 1788, relates that by a pure chance he picked up a curious manuscript at an obscure London bookstall. This manuscript appears to have belonged to a certain George Gaston, who is absolutely unknown. It treated of Egyptian masonry, and abounded in magical and mystical notions which excited the curiosity of its purchaser, nourished both his ambition and his imagination, and in a short time he developed his own system from its suggestive hints. The source of his inspiration, of course, remained concealed. He pretended to have received his masonic tradition by succession from Enoch and Elias. Privately, however, he pursued his former rogueries, and his sojourn in London was not infrequently disturbed by his squabbles with the police. Those who are interested in this part of the Cagliostro controversy will do well to refer to the English biography, dedicated to the countess, and which contains much curious information. When all his plans were matured he departed for the Hague, and thence proceeded to Venice, where some of his English creditors seem to have disturbed his serenity, and prompted him in consequence to retire through Germany into Holstein, where he is supposed to have visited the renowned Count de St Germain. According to the _Mémoires Authentiques pour servir à l’Histoire du Comte de Cagliostro_, published in 1785, he demanded an audience with this man of inscrutable mystery, in order that he might prostrate himself before the _dieu des croyants_. With characteristic eccentricity the Count de St Germain appointed two in the morning as the hour for the interview, which moment being arrived, say the “Memoirs,” Cagliostro and his wife, clothed in white garments, clasped about the waist with girdles of rose-colour, presented themselves at the castellated temple of mystery, which was the abode of the dubious divinity whom they desired to adore. The drawbridge was lowered, a man six feet in height, clothed in a long grey robe, led them into a dimly-lighted chamber. Therein some folding doors sprang suddenly open, and they beheld a temple illuminated by a thousand wax lights, with the Count de Saint-Germain enthroned upon the altar; at his feet two acolytes swung golden thuribles, which diffused sweet and unobtrusive perfumes. The divinity bore upon his breast a diamond pentagram of almost intolerable radiance. A majestic statue, white and diaphanous, upheld on the steps of the altar a vase inscribed, “Elixir of Immortality,” while a vast mirror was on the wall, and before it a living being, majestic as the statue, walked to and fro. Above the mirror were these singular words--“Store House of Wandering Souls.” The most solemn silence prevailed in this sacred retreat, but at length a voice, which seemed hardly a voice, pronounced these words--“Who are you? Whence come you? What would you?” Then the Count and Countess Cagliostro prostrated themselves, and the former answered after a long pause, “I come to invoke the God of the faithful, the Son of Nature, the sire of truth. I come to demand of him one of the fourteen thousand seven hundred secrets which are treasured in his breast, I come to proclaim myself his slave, his apostle, his martyr.” The divinity did not respond, but after a long silence, the same voice asked:--“What does the partner of thy long wanderings intend?” “To obey and to serve,” answered Lorenza. Simultaneously with her words, profound darkness succeeded the glare of light, uproar followed on tranquillity, terror on trust, and a sharp and menacing voice cried loudly:--“Woe to those who cannot stand the tests!” Husband and wife were immediately separated to undergo their respective trials, which they endured with exemplary fortitude, and which are detailed in the text of the memoirs. When the romantic mummery was over, the two postulants were led back into the temple, with the promise of admission to the divine mysteries. There a man mysteriously draped in a long mantle cried out to them:--“Know ye that the arcanum of our great art is the government of mankind, and that the one means to rule them is never to tell them the truth. Do not foolishly regulate your actions according to the rules of common sense; rather outrage reason and courageously maintain every unbelievable absurdity. Remember that reproduction is the palmary active power in nature, politics, and society alike; that it is a mania with mortals to be immortal, to know the future without understanding the present, and to be spiritual while all that surrounds them is material.” After this harangue the orator genuflected devoutly before the divinity of the temple and retired. At the same moment a man of gigantic stature led the countess to the feet of the immortal Count de Saint-German, who thus spoke:-- “Elected from my tenderest youth to the things of greatness, I employed myself in ascertaining the nature of veritable glory. Politics appeared to me nothing but the science of deception, tactics the art of assassination, philosophy the ambitious imbecility of complete irrationality; physics fine fancies about Nature and the continual mistakes of persons suddenly transplanted into a country which is utterly unknown to them; theology the science of the misery which results from human pride; history the melancholy spectacle of perpetual perfidy and blundering. Thence I concluded that the statesman was a skilful liar, the hero an illustrious idiot, the philosopher an eccentric creature, the physician a pitiable and blind man, the theologian a fanatical pedagogue, and the historian a word-monger. Then did I hear of the divinity of this temple. I cast my cares upon him, with my incertitudes and aspirations. When he took possession of my soul he caused me to perceive all objects in a new light; I began to read futurity. This universe so limited, so narrow, so desert, was now enlarged. I abode not only with those who are, but with those who were. He united me to the loveliest women of antiquity. I found it eminently delectable to know all without studying anything, to dispose of the treasures of the earth without the solicitation of monarchs, to rule the elements rather than men. Heaven made me liberal; I have sufficient to satisfy my taste; all that surrounds me is rich, loving, predestinated.” When the service was finished the costume of ordinary life was resumed. A superb repast terminated the ceremony. During the course of the banquet the two guests were informed that the Elixir of Immortality was merely Tokay coloured green or red according to the necessities of the case. Several essential precepts were enjoined upon them, among others that they must detest, avoid, and calumniate men of understanding, but flatter, foster, and blind fools, that they must spread abroad with much mystery the intelligence that the Count de Saint-Germain was five hundred years old, that they must make gold, but dupes before all. The truth of this singular episode is not attested by any sober biographer. If it occurred as narrated, it doubtless served to confirm Cagliostro in his ambitious projects. The change which had taken place in the adventurer since his second visit to England is well described by Figuier. “His language, his mien, his manners, all are transformed. His conversation turns only on his travels in Egypt, to Mecca, and in other remote places, on the sciences into which he was initiated at the foot of the Pyramids, on the arcana of Nature which his ingenuity has discovered. At the same time, he talks little, more often enveloping himself in mysterious silence. When interrogated with reiterated entreaties, he deigns at the most to draw his symbol--a serpent with an apple in its mouth and pierced by a dart, meaning that human wisdom should be silent on the mysteries which it has unravelled.... Lorenza was transfigured at the same time with her husband. Her ambitions and deportment became worthy of the new projects of Cagliostro. She aimed, like himself, at the glory of colossal successes.” The initiates of the Count de Saint-Germain passed into Courland, where they established Masonic lodges, according to the sublime rite of Egyptian Freemasonry. The countess was an excellent preacher to captivate hearts and enchant imaginations, her beauty fascinated a large number of Courlandaise nobility. At Mittau, Cagliostro attracted the attention of persons of high rank, who were led by his reputation to regard him as an extraordinary person. By means of his Freemasonry he began to obtain an ascendency over the minds of the nobles, some of whom, discontented with the reigning duke, are actually said to have offered him the sovereignty of the country, as to a divine man and messenger from above. The Italian biography represents him plotting with this end in view. “He pretends,” say the documents of the Holy Inquisition, “that he had virtue enough to resist the temptation, and that he refused the proffered boon from the respect due to sovereigns. His wife has assured us that his refusal was produced by the reflection that his impostures would soon be discovered.” He collected, however, a prodigious number of presents in gold, silver, and money, and repaired to St Petersburg, provided with regular passports. But the prophet soon found that a sufficiently brilliant reputation had not preceded him, and he, therefore, simply announced himself as a physician and chemist, by his retired life and air of mystery soon attracting attention. His assumption of the _rôle_ of physician leads to a brief consideration of the miraculous cures which have been attributed to him. They are generally referred to a broad application of the principles and methods of Mesmer, his contemporary. They were performed without passes, iron rods, or any of the cumbrous paraphernalia of his rival in the healing art; he trusted simply to the laying on of hands. Moreover, he did not despoil his patients, but rather dispensed his wealth, which now appeared unlimited, among the poor, who flocked to him in great numbers as his reputation increased. The source of this wealth is not accurately known, but it is supposed to have been derived from the Masonic initiates, whose apostle and propagandist he was. Many of the miraculous cures which Cagliostro performed in Germany spread widely, and in Russia he was soon surrounded by the curious. Lorenza played her own part admirably; she answered discreetly and naturally, making the most outrageous statements with apparently complete unconsciousness. The physician-chemist, besides his healing powers, had his reputation as an alchemist and adept of the arcane sciences. The supposed restoration in a miraculous manner of the infant child of an illustrious nobleman to health exalted him to the pinnacle of celebrity, and his extravagant pretensions, assisted, as they powerfully were, by the naïve beauty of his wife, were beginning to be taken seriously, but the combined result of an amour between Lorenza and Prince Poternki, Prime Minister and favourite of the Czarina, Catherine, and the discovery that the nobleman’s child had been apparently changed, caused them to depart hastily with immense spoils towards the German frontier. They tarried at Warsaw for a time, and there the Italian biographer tells us that Cagliostro made use of all his artifices to deceive a prince to whom he was introduced, and who was exceedingly anxious to obtain, with the help of the pretended magician, the permanent command of a devil. Cagliostro puffed him up for a long time with the expectation of gratifying this preposterous ambition, and actually procured presents from him to the amount of several thousand crowns. The prince at length perceiving that there was no hope of retaining one of the infernal spirits in his service, wished to make himself master of the earthly affections of the countess, but in this too he was disappointed, the lady positively refusing to comply with his desires. Finding himself thus balked in both his attempts, he abandoned every sentiment but revenge, and intimidated our adventurer and his wife so much by his menaces that they were obliged to restore his presents. The veracity of this account is not, however, beyond suspicion, and other of his biographers represent Cagliostro proceeding directly to Francfurt and thence to Strasbourg, into which, more wealthy and successful than ever, he made a triumphal entry. The distinguished visitor, the Rosicrucian, the alchemist, the physician, the sublime count, had been expected since early morning by the bourgeois of the old town, and the following extraordinary account in the _Dictionnaire des Sciences Occultes_ has been given by an anonymous biographer. “On the 19th of September 1780, in a public-house just outside Strasburg, surrounded by a group of humble tipplers, who stared from the little window at the vast crowd collected below them, there might have been remarked the countenance of a bald and wrinkled man, some eighty years of age, and evidently of southern origin; this was the goldsmith Marano. Successive failures, and debts which he did not see fit to liquidate, had forced him to leave Palermo, and he had established himself in his former trade at Strasbourg. Like the rest of the townsfolk he had come out to behold the phenomenal personage whose arrival was expected, and who made a greater sensation than many a powerful monarch. He had come by way of Germany from Varsovia, where he had amassed immense riches, said popular rumour, by the transmutation of base metals into gold, for he was possessed of the secret of the philosophic stone, and had all the incalculable talents of an alchemist.” “By my faith,” said a hatter, “I am indeed happy since I am destined to behold this illustrious mortal, if indeed he be a mortal.” “’Tis asserted,” added a druggist, “that he is a son of the Princess of Trebizond, and that he has withal the fine eyes of his mother.” “Also that he is a lineal descendant of Charles Martel,” said a town clerk. “He dates still further back,” put in a rope-maker, “for he took part in the marriage feast of Cana.” “Beyond doubt then, he is the wandering Jew!” exclaimed Marano. “Still better, some credible persons assert that he was born before the deluge.” “What hardihood! Yet suppose he is the devil.” These notions here reproduced with fidelity, and which were adorned by the most extravagant commentaries, were actually at that period in general circulation among the crowd. Some regarded the mysterious Count Cagliostro as an inspired saint, a performer of miracles, a phenomenal personage outside the order of Nature. The cures attributed to him were equally innumerable and unexplainable. Others regarded him merely as an adroit charlatan. Cagliostro himself boldly asserted that all his prodigies were performed under the special favour and help of heaven. He added that the Supreme Being had deigned to accord him the beatific vision, that it was his mission to convert unbelievers and reinstate catholicism, but in spite of this exalted vocation he told fortunes, taught the art of winning at lotteries, interpreted dreams, and held séances of transcendental phantasmagoria. “But,” contended the rope-maker with much animation, “a man who converses with angels is never the devil.” “Is he in communication with angels?” cried Marano, struck by the circumstances. “In that case I must see him at all costs. How old is he?” “Bah!” said the druggist, “as if such a being could have an age! He looks about thirty-six.” “Oh!” muttered the goldsmith. “What if he were my rascal? My rascal should now be thirty-seven.” As the hoary Sicilian ruminated over his lamentable past, he was roused by a tumult of voices. The supernal being had arrived, and he passed presently in the road, surrounded by a numerous cortege of couriers, lacqueys, valets, &c., all in magnificent liveries. By his side, in the open carriage, sat Lorenza or Seraphina Feliciani, his wife, who seconded with all her ability the intrigues of her husband, whom reasonable people regarded as a wandering member and emissary of the masonic templars, his opulence insured by contributions from the different lodges of the order. A great shout rose up when Count Cagliostro passed before the inn. Marano had recognised his man, and flying out had contrived to stop the carriage, shouting as he did so--“Joseph Balsamo! It is Joseph! Coquin, where are my sixty ounces of gold?” Cagliostro scarcely deigned to glance at the furious goldsmith; but in the middle of the profound silence which the incident occasioned among the crowd, a voice, apparently in the clouds, uttered with great distinctness the following words: “Remove this lunatic, who is possessed by infernal spirits!” Some of the spectators fell on their knees, others seized the unfortunate goldsmith, and the brilliant cortege passed on. Entering Strasburg in triumph, Cagliostro paused in front of a large hall, where the equerries who had preceded him had already collected a considerable concourse of the sick. The famous empiric entered and cured them all, some simply by touch, others apparently by words or by a gratuity in money, the rest by his universal panacea; but the historian who records these things asserts that the sick persons thus variously treated had been carefully selected, the physician preferring to treat the more serious cases at the homes of the patients. Cagliostro issued from the hall amidst universal acclamations, and was accompanied by the immense crowd to the doors of the magificent lodging which had been prepared against his arrival. The élite of Strasburg society was invited to a sumptuous repast, which was followed by a séance of transcendental magnetism, when he produced some extraordinary manifestations by the mediation of clairvoyant children of either sex, and whom he denominated his doves or pupils. The unspotted virginity and innocence of these children were an indispensable condition of success. They were chosen by himself, and received a mystical consecration at his hands. Then he pronounced over a crystal vessel, filled with water, the magical formulæ for the evocation of angelic intelligences as they are written in the celestial rituals. Supernal spirits became visible in the depths of the water, and responded to questions occasionally in an intelligible voice, but more often in characters which appeared on the surface of the water, and were visible to the pupils alone, who interpreted them to the public. Contemporary testimony establishes that these manifestations, as a whole, were genuine, and there is little doubt of the mesmeric abilities of Cagliostro, who had probably become acquainted in the East with the phenomena of virginal lucidity, especially in boys, and had supplemented the oriental methods by the discoveries of Puséygur, which were at that time sufficiently notorious. For three years Cagliostro remained at Strasburg and was fêted continually. Here he obtained a complete ascendency over the mind of the famous cardinal-archbishop, the Prince de Rohan. His first care, on taking up his abode in the town, was to prove his respect for the clergy by his generosity and zeal. He visited the sick in the hospitals, deferentially participated in the duties of the regular doctors, proposed his new remedies with prudence, did not condemn the old methods, but sought to unite new science with the science which was based on experience. He obtained the reputation of a bold experimenter in chemistry, of a sagacious physician, and a really enlightened innovator. The inhabitants of the crowded quarters regarded him as a man sent from God, operating miraculous cures, and dispensing riches from an inexhaustible source with which he was alone acquainted. Unheard-of cures were cited, and alchemical operations which surpassed even the supposed possibilities of the transmutatory art. Anything which savoured of the marvellous was an attraction for the cardinal-archbishop, and he longed to see Cagliostro. An anonymous writer states that he sought an interview with him again and again unsuccessfully; for the cardinal-prince of trickery divined even at a distance the character of the prince-cardinal, and enveloped himself in a reserve which, to the imagination of his dupe, was like the loadstone to the magnet. Others represent him, however, courting the favour of the great ecclesiastic’s secretary, and so obtaining an introduction. At the first interview he showed some reserve, but permitted certain dazzling ideas to be glimpsed through the more ordinary tenour of his discourse. After a judicious period he admitted that he possessed a receipt for the manufacture of gold and diamonds. A supposed transmutation completed his conquest of the cardinal, and the Italian historian confesses that he accordingly lavished immense sums upon the virtuous pair, and to complete his folly, agreed to erect a small edifice, in which he was to experience a physical regeneration by means of the supernal and auriferous elixir of Cagliostro. The sum of twenty thousand francs was actually paid the adept to accomplish this operation. Doubtless during his sojourn at Strasburg he propagated with zeal the mysteries of his Egyptian Freemasonry, and at length, laden with spoils, he repaired to Bordeaux, where he continued his healing in public, and then proceeded to Lyons, where for the space of three months he occupied himself with the foundation of a mother-lodge, and, according to the Italian biographer, here as elsewhere, in less creditable pursuits. At length he arrived at Paris, where, says the same authority, he soon became the object of general conversation, regard, and esteem. His curative powers were now but little exercised, for Paris abounded with mesmerists and healers, and the prodigies of simple magnetism were stale and unprofitable in consequence. He assumed now the _rôle_ of a practical magician, and astonished the city by the evocation of phantoms, which he caused to appear, at the wish of the inquirer, either in a mirror or in a vase of clear water. These phantoms equally represented dead and living beings, and as occasionally collusion appears to have been well-nigh impossible, and as the theory of coincidence is preposterous, there is reason to suppose that he produced results which must sometimes have astonished himself. All Paris at any rate was set wondering at his enchantments and prodigies, and it is seriously stated that Louis XVI. was so infatuated with _le divin Cagliostro_, that he declared anyone who injured him should be considered guilty of treason. At Versailles, and in the presence of several distinguished nobles, he is said to have caused the apparition in mirrors, vases, &c., not merely of the spectra of absent or deceased persons, but animated and moving beings of a phantasmal description, including many dead men and women selected by the astonished spectators. The mystery which surrounded him abroad was deepened even when he received visitors at home. He had lived in the Rue Saint Claude, an isolated house surrounded by gardens and sheltered from the inconvenient curiosity of neighbours. There he established his laboratory, which no one might enter. He received in a vast and sumptuous apartment on the first floor. Lorenza lived a retired life, only being visible at certain hours before a select company, and in a diaphanous and glamourous costume. The report of her beauty spread through the city; she passed for a paragon of perfection, and duels took place on her account. Cagliostro was now no longer young, and Lorenza was in the flower of her charms. He is said for the first time to have experienced the pangs of jealousy on account of a certain Chevalier d’Oisemont, with whom she had several assignations. Private vexations did not, however, interfere with professional thaumaturgy, and the evocation of the illustrious dead was a common occurrence at certain magical suppers which became celebrated through all Paris. These were undoubtedly exaggerated by report, but as they all occurred within the doubtful precincts of his own house of mystery, they were in all probability fraudulent, for it must be distinctly remembered that in his normal character he was an unparalleled trickster, that the genuine phenomena which he occasionally produced were simply supplements to charlatanry, and not that his deceptions were aids to normally genuine phenomena. On one occasion, according to the _Mémoires authentiques pour servir à l’histoire du Comte de Cagliostro_, the distinguished thaumaturgist announced that at a private supper, given to six guests, he would evoke the spirits of any dead persons whom they named to him, and that the phantoms, apparently substantial, should seat themselves at the banquet. The repast took place with the knowledge and, it may be supposed, with the connivance of Lorenza. At midnight the guests were assembled; a round table, laid for twelve, was spread, with unheard-of luxury, in a dining-room, where all was in harmony with the approaching Kabbalistic operation. The six guests, with Cagliostro, took their seats, and thus the ominous number thirteen were designed to be present at table. The supper was served, the servants were dismissed with threats of immediate death if they dared to open the doors before they were summoned. Each guest demanded the deceased person whom he desired to see. Cagliostro took the names, placed them in the pocket of his gold-embroidered vest, and announced that with no further preparation than a simple invocation on his part the evoked spirits would appear in flesh and blood, for, according to the Egyptian dogma, there were in reality no dead. These guests of the other world, asked for and expected with trembling anxiety, were the Duc de Choiseul, Voltaire, d’Alembert, Diderot, the Abbé de Voisenon, and Montesquieu. Their names were pronounced slowly in a loud voice, and with all the concentrated determination of the adept’s will; and after a moment of intolerable doubt, the evoked guests appeared very unobtrusively, and took their seats with the quiet courtesy which had characterised them in life. The first question put to them when the awe of their presence had somewhat worn off was as to their situation in the world beyond. “There is no world beyond,” replied d’Alembert. “Death is simply the cessation of the evils which have tortured us. No pleasure is experienced, but, on the other hand, there is no suffering. I have not met with Mademoiselle Lespinasse, but I have not seen Lorignet. There is marked sincerity, moreover. Some deceased persons who have recently joined us inform me that I am almost forgotten. I am, however, consoled. Men are unworthy of the trouble we take about them. I never loved them, now I despise them.” “What has become of your learning?” said M. de ---- to Diderot. “I was not learned, as people commonly supposed. My ready wit adapted all that I read, and in writing I borrowed on every side. Thence comes the desultory character of my books, which will be unheard of in half a century. The Encyclopædia, with the merit of which I am honoured, does not belong to me. The duty of an editor is simply to set in order the choice of subjects. The man who showed most talent in the whole of the work was the compiler of its index, yet no one has dreamed of recognising his merits.” “I praised the enterprise,” said Voltaire, “for it seemed well fitted to further my philosophical opinions. Talking of philosophy, I am none too certain that I was in the right. I have learned strange things since my death, and have conversed with half a dozen Popes. Clement