Dreading the rage of his innumerable dupes, and extreme measures on the part of his creditors, he hastened to quit London, disembarked in Holland, crossed Germany, took refuge in Basle, where the patriarchal hospitality of the Swiss cantons to some extent reassured the unmasked adept. From the moment, however, of this exposure, the descent of Cagliostro was simply headlong in its rapidity. Nevertheless, he was followed by some of his initiates, who pressed him to return to France, assuring him of the powerful protection of exalted masonic dignitaries. In his hesitation he wrote to the Baron de Breteuil, the king’s minister of the house, but, as it chanced, a personal enemy of the Cardinal de Rohan. Considering Cagliostro as a protégé of the prince, he replied that if he had sufficient effrontery to set foot within the limits of the kingdom, he should be arrested and transferred to a prison in Paris, there to await prosecution as a common swindler, who should answer to the royal justice for his criminal life.
From this moment Cagliostro saw that he was a perpetual exile from France, and feeling in no sense assured of his safety even in Switzerland, he left Basle for Aix, in Savoy. He was ordered to quit that town in eight and forty hours. At Roveredo, a dependency of Austria, the same treatment awaited him. He migrated to Trent, and announced himself as a practitioner of lawful medicine, but the prince-bishop who was sovereign of the country discerned the cloven hoof of the sorcerer beneath the doctor’s sober dress, and showed him in no long space of time his hostility to magical practices. The wandering hierophant of Egyptian masonry, somewhat sorely pressed, took post to Rome, and reached the Eternal City after many vicissitudes. Here, according to Saint-Félix and Figuier, he was rejoined by his wife; according to the Italian biographer, Lorenza had accompanied him in his wanderings, and persuaded him to seek refuge in Rome, being sick unto death of her miserable course of life. The former statement is, on the whole, the most probable, as it is difficult to suppose that she left Italy to rejoin Cagliostro at Passy, and she appears to have returned to him with marked repugnance. She endeavoured to lead him back to religion, which had never been eradicated from her heart. He lived for some time with extraordinary circumspection, and consented at last to see a Benedictine monk, to whom he made his confession. The Holy Inquisition, which doubtless had scrutinised all his movements, is said to have been deceived for a time, and he was favourably received by several cardinals. He lived for a year in perfect liberty, occupied with the private study of medicine. During this time he endeavoured to obtain loans from the initiates of his Egyptian rite who were scattered over France and Germany, but they did not arrive, and the sublime Copt, the illuminated proprietor of the stone philosophical and the medicine yclept metallic, came once more, to the eternal disgrace of Osiris, Isis, and Anubis, on the very verge of want.
His extremity prompted him to renew his relations with the masonic societies within the area of the Papal States. A penalty of death hung over the initiates of the superior grades, and their lodges were in consequence surrounded with great mystery, and were convened in subterranean places. He was persuaded to found a lodge of Egyptian Freemasonry in Rome itself, from which moment Lorenza reasonably regarded him as lost. One of his own adepts betrayed him; he was arrested on the 27th of September 1789, by order of the Holy Office, and imprisoned in the Castle of St Angelo. An inventory of his papers was taken, and all his effects were sealed up. The process against him was drawn up with the nicest inquisitorial care during the long period of eighteen months. When the trial came on he was defended by the Count Gætano Bernardini, advocate of the accused before the sacred and august tribunal, and to this pleader in ordinary the impartial and benign office, of its free grace and pleasure, did add generously, as counsel, one Monsignor Louis Constantini, “whose knowledge and probity,” saith an unbought and unbuyable witness (inquisitorially inspired), “were generally recognised.” They did not conceal from him the gravity of his position, advised him to refrain from basing his defence on a series of denials, promising to save him from the capital forfeit, and so he was persuaded to confess everything, was again reconciled to the church; and being almost odoriferous with genuine sanctity, on the 21st of March 1791 he was carried before the general assembly of the purgers of souls by fire, before the Pope on the 7th of the following April, when the advocates pleaded with so much eloquence that they retired in the agonies of incipient strangulation, Cagliostro repeated his avowal, and as a natural consequence of the unbought eloquence and the purchased confession, the penalty of death was pronounced.
When, however, the shattered energies of the advocates were a little recruited, a recommendation of mercy was addressed to the Pope, the sentence was commuted to perpetual imprisonment, and the condemned man was consigned to the Castle of St Angelo. After an imprisonment of two years, he died, God knows how, still in the prime of life, at the age of fifty.
Lorenza, whose admissions had contributed largely towards the condemnation of her husband, was doomed to perpetual seclusion in a penitentiary. The papers of Cagliostro were burned by the Holy Office, and the phantom of that institution keeps to the present day the secret of the exact date of its victim’s death. It carefully circulated the report that on one occasion he attempted to strangle a priest whom he had sent for on the pretence of confessing, hoping to escape in his clothes; and then it made public the statement that he had subsequently strangled himself. When the battalions of the French Revolution entered Rome, the commanding officers, hammering at the doors of Saint-Angelo, determined to release the entombed adept, but they were informed that Cagliostro was dead, “at which intelligence,” says Figuier, “they perceived plainly that the former Parlement de France was not to be compared with the Roman Inquisition, and without regretting the demolished Bastile, they could not but acknowledge that it disgorged its prey more easily than the Castle of Saint Angelo.”
The personal attractions of Cagliostro appear to have been exaggerated by some of his biographers. “His splendid stature and high bearing, increased by a dress of the most bizarre magnificence, the extensive suite which invariably accompanied him in his wanderings, turned all eyes upon him, and disposed the minds of the vulgar towards an almost idolatrous admiration.”
With this opinion of Figuier may be compared the counter-statement of the Italian biographer:—“He was of a brown complexion, a bloated countenance, and a severe aspect; he was destitute of any of those graces so common in the world of gallantry, without knowledge and without abilities.” But the Italian biographer was a false witness, for Cagliostro was beyond all question and controversy a man of consummate ability, tact, and talent. The truth would appear to lie between these opposite extremes. “The Count de Cagliostro,” says the English life, published in 1787, “is below the middle stature, inclined to corpulency; his face is a round oval, his complexion and eyes dark, the latter uncommonly penetrating. In his address we are not sensible of that indescribable grace which engages the affections before we consult the understanding. On the contrary, there is in his manner a self-importance which at first sight rather disgusts than allures, and obliges us to withhold our regards, till, on a more intimate acquaintance, we yield it the tribute to our reason. Though naturally studious and contemplative, his conversation is sprightly, abounding with judicious remarks and pleasant anecdotes, yet with an understanding in the highest degree perspicuous and enlarged, he is ever rendered the dupe of the sycophant and the flatterer.”
The persuasive and occasionally overpowering eloquence of Cagliostro is also dwelt upon by the majority of his biographers, but, according to the testimony of his wife, as extracted under the terror of the Inquisition and adduced in the Italian life:—“His discourse, instead of being eloquent, was composed in a style of the most wearisome perplexity, and abounded with the most incoherent ideas. Previous to his ascending the rostrum he was always careful to prepare himself for his labours by means of some bottles of wine, and he was so ignorant as to the subject on which he was about to hold forth, that he generally applied to his wife for the text on which he was to preach to his disciples. If to these circumstances are added a Sicilian dialect, mingled with a jargon of French and Italian, we cannot hesitate a single moment as to the degree of credibility which we are to give to the assertions that have been made concerning the wonder-working effects of his eloquence.”
But the Inquisition was in possession of documents which bore irrefutable testimony to the extraordinary hold which Cagliostro exercised over the minds of his numerous followers, and it is preposterous to suppose it could have been possessed by a man who was ignorant, unpresentable, and ill-spoken. Moreover, the testimony of Lorenza, given under circumstances of, at any rate, the strongest moral intimidation is completely worthless on all points whatsoever, and the biassed views of our inquisitorial apologists are of no appreciable value.