But it is not of these things I wish to treat; it is of the facts connected with his residence in London. Two or three accounts say that he visited London in 1772, where he swindled a Doctor Benemore, who had rescued him from prison, under pretence of painting his country house, and his enemy, De Morande, of the Courier de l’Europe, who, in No.’s 16, 17, and 18 of that journal, made frightful accusations against Cagliostro, reiterates the story of his being here in 1772. In page xiv. of the preface to ‘The Life of the Count Cagliostro,’ 1787, there occurs the following passage: ‘M. de Morande is at infinite pains to persuade us that the Count resided in London in 1772, under the name of Balsamo, in extreme poverty, from which he was relieved by Sir Edward Hales. That Baronet professes, indeed, to recollect an Italian of that name; but, as M. de Morande positively assures us that the Count is a Calabrois, a Neapolitan, or a Sicilian, we can desire no better argument to prove the fallacy of his information.’
In a pamphlet entitled, ‘Lettre du Comte Cagliostro au Peuple Anglois pour servir de suite à ses Memoires,’ 1786, p. 7, he says distinctly: ‘Nous sommes arrivés, ma femme et moi, en Angleterre, pour la première fois de ma vie, au mois de Juillet, 1776,’ and on p. 70 of the same work is the following (translated):
‘The greatest part of the long diatribe of M. Morande is used to prove that I came to London in 1772, under the name of Balsamo. In view of the efforts which M. Morande makes, in order to arrive at such proof, an attempt is made to show that the Balsamo with whom they attempt to identify me ought to have been hung, or, at all events, he rendered himself guilty of some dishonourable actions. Nothing of the sort. This Balsamo, if the Courier de l’Europe can be believed, was a mediocre painter, who lived by his brush. A man named Benamore, either agent, or interpreter, or chargé d’affaires to the King of Morocco, had commissioned him to paint some pictures, and had not paid for them. Balsamo issued a writ against him for £47 sterling, which he said was due to him, admitting that he had received two guineas on account. Besides, this Balsamo was so poor that his wife was obliged to go into town herself, in order to sell the pictures which her husband painted. Such is the portrait which M. de Morande draws of the Balsamo of London, a portrait which no one will accuse him of having flattered, and from which the sensible reader will draw the conclusion that the Balsamo of London was an honest artist who gained a livelihood by hard work.
‘I might then admit without blushing that I had lived in London in 1772 under the name of Balsamo, on the product of my feeble talents in painting; that the course of events and circumstances had reduced me to this extremity, etc....
‘I am ignorant whether the law-suit between Balsamo and Benamore is real or supposed: one thing is certain, that in London exists a regular physician of irreproachable probity, named Benamore. He is versed in oriental languages: he was formerly attached, as interpreter, to the Moroccan Embassy, and he is, at this date, employed, in the same capacity, by the ambassador of Tripoli. He will bear witness to all who wish to know that, during the 30 years he has been established in London, he has never known another Benamore than himself, and that he has never had a law-suit with anyone bearing the name of Balsamo.’
Now take Carlyle, with whom dogmatism stood in stead of research, and judge for yourselves. ‘There is one briefest but authentic-looking glimpse of him presents itself in England, in the year 1772: no Count is he here, but mere Signor Balsamo again, engaged in house-painting, for which he has a peculiar talent. Was it true that he painted the country house of a “Doctor Benemore;” and, not having painted, but only smeared it, was refused payment, and got a lawsuit with expenses instead? If Doctor Benemore have left any representatives in the Earth, they are desired to speak out. We add only, that if young Beppo had one of the prettiest of wives, old Benemore had one of the ugliest daughters; and so, putting one thing to another, matters might not be so bad.’
Who set this story afloat, about Cagliostro being in London in 1772? Why, Monsieur de Morande, the editor of the Courier de l’Europe, and of his veracity we may judge by an advertisement in the London Evening Post of November 27 to 30, 1773, p. 4, col. 4, (translated).
‘Monsieur Le Comte de Lauraguais has kindly consented, after the humble apologies I have made to him, to forego the action commenced against me for having defamed him in some verses full of untruths, injurious both to his honour and his reputation, of which I was the author, and which I caused to be inserted in the Morning Chronicle of 24 and 25 June last, entitled: “Answer of the Gazetteer Cuirassé.” I therefore beg you, Mr. Woodfall,[112] to publish through the same channel by which I made my verses public,—my sincere repentance for having so injuriously libelled Monsieur le Comte, and my very humble thanks for his having accepted my apologies, and stopping all action in the matter.
‘De Morande.
‘Nov. 26, 1773.’