Alas! why is it that the "spirits" so often fail us at our sorest need? Do they deceive us; and, if not, who does? The treasure vanishes, or does not appear, "the conditions are imperfect," and the "ninny of a goldsmith" being roughly handled by these spiritual visitants, threatens to stiletto the adept; who, overcome with the ingratitude of the world, concludes to quit;—at least, in the words of his Inquisition biographer, "he fled from Palermo, and overran the whole earth."
We may see how he has grown—how, as in ordinary mortals, he advances step by step—even he, the favorite son of the higher intelligences, learns as he goes. How is it, then, that we can have no full-grown inspiration; that we know of no perfection—that we only go on towards it? Can it be that prophets and priests really do learn, and that even now, men may grow into the future? Might not a more thorough and scientific seminary for this purpose be established than any we now have—theologic, thaumaturgic, theosophic, or other variety? It is a question easier asked than answered.
"The Beppic Hegira brings us down in European history to somewhere about the period of the peace of Paris"—(a.d. ——), supervening upon which is a portentous time—"the multitudinous variety of quacks that, along with Beppo, overran all Europe during that same period—the latter half of the last century. It was the very age of impostors, cut-purses, swindlers, double gaugers, enthusiasts, ambiguous persons, quacks simple, quacks compound, crack-brained or with deceit prepense, quacks and quackeries of all colors and kinds. How many mesmerists (so speaks this strange author), magicians, cabalists, Swedenborgians, illuminati, crucified nuns, and devils of Loudun! To which the Inquisition biographer adds vampyres, sylphs, rosicrucians, free-masons, and an et cetera. Consider your Schropfers, Cagliostros, Casanovas, Saint Germains, Dr. Grahams, the Chevalier d'Eon, Psalmanazar, Abbé Paris, and the Ghost of Cock-lane!—as if Bedlam had broken loose!"
The great, the inexplicable, the mysterious Beppo, being now fairly afloat, let us try to comprehend how he has begun to touch upon the edge of those trade winds, which shall drive him along toward the golden Indies, Ophir, and the land of promise, for which the men of this world do so hunger and thirst.
He married a beautiful Seraphina, afterward countess, graceful and lady-like, once the daughter of a girdle-maker, and named Lorenza Feliciani. Every one, simple or sedate, knows that it is best to hunt in couples. What one has not the other may have. So Seraphina had beauty, lightness, buoyancy, and could float up her count when the demons and harpies of a certain troublesome devil, called law or justice, seemed bent upon his swift destruction. Could she not, too, "enlist the sympathies of admiring audiences"—by her sweet smiles and "artless ways," gain belief, and "a wish to believe?" More than that, could she not turn the heads of young and old? "noble" perhaps, perhaps "ignoble"—"moneyed do-nothings" (so says this writer), whereof in this vexed earth there are many, ever lounging about such (?) places—scan and comment on the foreign coat-of-arms—ogle the fair foreign woman, who timidly recoils from their gaze, timidly responds to their reverences, as in halls and passages they obsequiously throw themselves in her way. Ere long, one moneyed do-nothing (from amid his tags, tassels, sword-belts, fop-tackle, frizzled hair, without brains beneath it) is heard speaking to another—"Seen the countess?—divine creature that!" Indeed, one cannot but wonder that any should question the unity of the race, at least, of those known as "civilized." In a small way, or in a large way, how this thing ever goes on—on church steps, on Broadways, in Metropolitan Halls, Congresses, the Palais-Royal, at home and abroad! And men do yet call this "reverence for the sex," and holy sentiment; and indulge in hallelujahs to that hoary myth, "a gentleman of the old school;" while women—God help us—women loving it, hate those who, hating it, hate hollowness and hell. With slight imagination, then, one may see how important an element this "divine creature" must have become in any conjuration or mystic "renovation of the universe," which the high mystagogue might be impressed to set on foot. Enough, that she helped and learned the arts of prophecy and perfection faster than her master! But we read—alas! alas!—"As his seraphic countess gives signs of withering, and one luxuriant branch of industry will die and drop off, others must be pushed into budding." He, the indefatigable count, is not idle. "Faded dames of quality (over all Europe, all creation) have many wants: the count has not studied in the convent laboratory, or pilgrimed to the Count St. Germain, in Westphalia, to no purpose. With loftiest condescension he stoops to impart somewhat of his supernatural secrets—for a consideration. Rowland's Kalydor is valuable; but what to the beautifying water of Count Alessandro! He that will undertake to smooth wrinkles, and make withered, green parchment into a fair carnation skin, is he not one whom faded dames of quality will delight to honor? Or, again, let the beautifying-water succeed or not, have not such dames (if calumny may in aught be believed) another want? This want, too, the indefatigable Cagliostro will supply—for a consideration. For faded gentlemen of quality the count likewise has help. Not a charming countess alone, but a "wine of Egypt" (Cantharides not being unknown to him), sold in drops, more precious than nectar; which, what faded gentlemen of quality will not purchase with any thing short of life. Consider, too, what may be done with potions, washes, charms, love-philters, among a class of mortals idle from their mother's womb," &c., &c.
It is well to know, once for all, that the count, chief-priest of his order—which yet thrives, and if not great, deserves to be called for its number, Legion—made money out of this his enterprising trade; that he was enabled to pay his way; to ride post with the ever potent "voucher of respectability, a coach-and-four," with out-riders and beef-eaters, and couriers and lackeys, and the other paraphernalia which the greedy tooth of man desires—which helps one forward so far toward happiness, provided always that "there is no heaven above and no hell beneath," of which let each first make sure; and more than all, let such as wish to travel this road, take great courage from the contemplation of this one model.
We must hasten to the year 1776, a year rather noted in our annals, and in that of England, perhaps, independently of this the "first visit" of the famed Count Cagliostro to its shores, which happened then. Should it have so chanced that he had lived now, would he have stopped there does the reader think? Having an insight into their national character, and finding "great greed and need," and but small heed, what might he not have done on this transatlantic shore, whose free people can so nobly cherish even its Barnum, its——, its——! But let names go. We make the most of what we have, and if not equal to the greatest, the fault rests not on our shoulders. We are not responsible for the past, if for the present or future.
'Twas in England that the master developed most bravely the art of prophecy; perhaps finding there a demand for his supply—such, according to some, being the only law of God or man. It is enough to know that he does a trade in foretelling the lucky lottery numbers by means of his "occult science," whereby at least he put money in his purse, and satisfied good-natured men that as there were gulls, and necessarily a guller, he above all others deserved praise and not blame; the whole thing, this life, being really a juggle, and the smartest fellow of course the best juggler. As man goes on he developes, so many think—so did Cagliostro, and in his growth he reaches to masonry—Egyptian masonry—and in "sworn secrecy" finds a new Talisman, for which men will pay five guineas each. He resolves to "free it from all vile ingredients, and make it a new Evangile." "No religion is excluded from the Egyptian society"—for is it not certain that religion pays? Charity too, pays, as we shall see by-and-by. No religion is tabooed—none—all who admit the existence of a God, and the immortality of the soul, may, for the small sum of five guineas, be certain to gain "perfection by means of a physical and moral regeneration." He promises them by the former or physical to find the prime matter or philosopher's stone, and the acacia which consolidates in man the forces of the most vigorous youth, and renders him immortal; and by the latter or moral, to procure them a Pentagon which shall restore man to his primitive state of innocence, lost by his original sin. It must be understood that this masonry was founded by Enoch and Elias, had been corrupted by the Egyptian priests, but was now restored to its pristine vigor by its last and greatest Grand Cophta, and includes not only men but women, of whom the Countess Seraphina is Cophtess.
We cannot do better than to gain some insight into the forms and symbolic practices of these worshippers; and especially will those who desire to practise this or any short and easy way to perfection or happiness, be glad to learn what has been done, and thus be encouraged to begin.
In the Essai sur les Illuminés, printed in Paris in 1789, are the following details quoted by this before-mentioned known author.[1] These bear an air of truth and probability which will win for them easy admission. Many of them are not unlike what we have seen amongst us during the few past years.