Their first visitor was a Madame Blevary, a lady in reduced circumstances who lodged in the same house. Hearing they had come from Portugal, and being herself a native of that country, she sought their acquaintance in the hope of deriving some personal benefit from it. In this she was not disappointed; for the Countess, who knew no English, required a companion, and as Madame Blevary was conversant with several languages and had the manners of a gentlewoman, she readily obtained the post on the recommendation of the landlady.
Among the acquaintances Madame Blevary informed of her good fortune, which she was no doubt induced to dilate upon, was a certain Vitellini, an ex-Jesuit and professor of languages. Like her, he too had fallen on hard times; but in his case the love of gambling had been his ruin. He was also, as it happened, almost equally devoted to the study of chemistry, on a knowledge of which he particularly piqued himself. No sooner, therefore, did he learn that Count Cagliostro had a similar hobby, and a laboratory into the bargain, than he persuaded Madame Blevary to introduce him to the Count, in the hope that he too might profit by the acquaintance as she had done. As a result of this introduction, Vitellini succeeded in ingratiating himself into the favour of Cagliostro, who employed him in the laboratory as an assistant.
Stinginess was a quality of which neither the Count nor his wife was ever accused. On the contrary, as even those most prejudiced against them have been obliged to admit, they were exceedingly generous. With them, however, generosity was one of those amiable weaknesses that are as pernicious in their effect as a vice. There were few who experienced it but abused it in some way. It was so in this instance.
Vitellini, who was at bottom more of a fool than a knave, in the first flush of excitement over the sudden turn of tide in his fortunes which had long been at the lowest ebb, began to brag to his acquaintances in the gambling-dens and coffee-houses he frequented of his connection with Cagliostro, whom he described as “an extraordinary man, a true adept, whose fortune was immense, and who possessed the secret of transmuting metals.”
Such praise naturally excited the curiosity of Vitellini’s acquaintances, who in their turn were eager to meet the benevolent foreigner. Thus by the indiscretion of Vitellini, Cagliostro was soon besieged by a crowd of shady people whose intentions were so apparent that he was obliged in the end to refuse to receive them when they called. But this only exasperated them; and one in particular, Pergolezzi—the painter and decorator by whom the reader will recall Balsamo was for a time employed—“threatened to blast the reputation of the Count by circulating a report throughout London that he was ignorant and necessitous, of obscure birth, and had once before resided in England.”[7]
Vitellini, needless to say, perceiving the effect of his folly, now hastened to put a curb on his tongue lest he too should be shown the door. But as the sequel will prove, discretion came to him too late to benefit him. For Madame Blevary, who also entertained in secret a similar opinion of her patron’s wealth and knowledge, was one of those whose cupidity had been excited by Vitellini’s gossip. She at least had the advantage of being on the inner side of the Count’s door, and she determined while she had the chance to profit by it.
To this effect she bethought herself of “one Scott, a man of ambiguous character, and the pliability of whose principles was such that he was ever ready to convert them to the interest of the present moment.” It was accordingly arranged between them that Scott should impersonate a Scotch nobleman, in which guise it was hoped the Cagliostros would be effectually deceived as to his intentions. A severe illness, however, with which she was suddenly seized, and during which the Cagliostros “supplied her with every necessary comfort,” prevented Madame Blevary from personally introducing her confederate. Nevertheless she did not abandon the idea she had conceived, and ill though she was, she sent word to Cagliostro that “Lord Scott, of whom she had often spoken to him, had arrived in town and proposed to himself the honour of introduction that afternoon.”
Entirely unsuspicious of the treachery of a woman who owed so much to their generosity, the Count and Countess received “Lord Scott” on his arrival. His appearance, it seems, did not exactly tally with such notions as Cagliostro had formed either of the man or his rank. But Scott succeeded in dispelling his disappointment, and swindling him into the bargain, by way of gentle beginning, out of £12 in Portuguese money which he undertook to get exchanged for its English equivalent, afterwards declaring with well-feigned mortification “he had lost it through a hole in his pocket.”
A Giuseppe Balsamo, one imagines, would have been the last person in the world to be taken in by such a story. Cagliostro, however, swallowed it without hesitation; and begging Scott, who confusedly regretted he was in no position to make good the loss, to think no more about it, invited him to come to dinner the next day.
Whether Madame Blevary got a share of these or subsequent spoils is not known, for at this point she disappears from the scene altogether. Perhaps she died of that severe illness in which she received from the Cagliostros while betraying them so many “proofs of their generosity and humanity.” In any case, her place was most completely filled by “Lady Scott,” who was at this period presented by Scott to the Cagliostros, and from whom in an incredibly short time she managed to borrow on her simple note of hand £200.