The conduct of Badioli, who had taken so treacherous an advantage of his ignorance of the English language and law, was to Cagliostro the unkindest cut of all. After such convincing proofs of its hostility, to continue to struggle against adversity seemed no doubt futile. He accepted the situation apathetically. More than a month elapsed before he apparently took steps to procure his release—even then the proceedings which resulted in his liberation from the King’s Bench prison do not appear to have been instituted by himself, but by a certain O’Reilly. Now as this good Samaritan was previously unknown to him, there is reason to suppose that he was delegated by the Esperance Lodge of Freemasons, of which the Count was a member, to assist him. For O’Reilly was the proprietor of the “King’s Head in Gerard Street where the Esperance Lodge assembled.”[8]
Through the instrumentality of O’Reilly, for whose kindness on this occasion Cagliostro was ever after grateful, fresh bail was procured. But as the summer vacation had commenced, Miss Fry had the right—which she was only too glad to avail herself of—to refuse to accept the bail offered till the end of the vacation. O’Reilly, however, was not a Saunders; his interest in the Count was not mercenary, and being fully conversant with the intricate workings of the law, he applied directly to Lord Mansfield, who at once ordered Miss Fry’s attorney to accept the bail.
Considering the evidences Cagliostro had had of this woman’s fury, it was not surprising that he should have attributed the extraordinary circumstances that now occurred to her vindictive ingenuity. As he was preparing to leave the King’s Bench, “Mr. Crisp, the under-marshal of the prison, informed him that one Aylett had lodged a detainer against him by name of Melisa Cagliostro, otherwise Joseph Balsamo, for a debt of £30.” The Count demanded with the utmost surprise the meaning of this new intrigue. Crisp replied that Aylett declared the sum specified was due to him as his fee, with interest added, from “one Joseph Balsamo, by whom he had been employed in the year 1772 to recover a debt of a Dr. Benamore.”
It mattered not in the least that Cagliostro protested “he had never seen Aylett, and did not believe Aylett had ever seen him,” or that Aylett himself did not appear in person. As the law then stood, Crisp’s statement was sufficient to detain the unfortunate Count, whom he in his turn was anxious to bleed while he had the chance. Accordingly, while admitting that without Aylett’s consent he was not empowered to accept the bail which Cagliostro eagerly offered him, Crisp was only ready to let him go “if he could deposit in his hand thirty pounds to indemnify him.”
To this proposition Cagliostro consented, but as he had not the cash upon him he asked Crisp if he would accept its equivalent in plate, promising to redeem it the next day. His request was granted, and Cagliostro remained in King’s Bench while O’Reilly went to the Countess for the plate in question, which consisted of “two soup-ladles, two candlesticks, two salt-cellars, two pepper-castors, six forks, six table-spoons, nine knife-handles with blades, a pair of snuffers and stand, all of silver.”
The next day, true to his promise, the Count paid Crisp thirty pounds. Crisp, however, instead of giving back the plate, declared that Aylett had been to him in the meantime, and on learning that he had freed the prisoner was highly exasperated and demanded the plate, which had consequently been given him. As Aylett, on the other hand, when questioned, declared that Crisp “was a liar,” “it was impossible,” says Cagliostro, “for me to ascertain by whom I was plundered.”
Of all the incidents in this series of “injustices,” as he termed it, of which he was the victim the most curious is undoubtedly the unexpected advent of Aylett upon the scene in a rôle totally unconnected with the development, so to speak, of the plot of the play. Considering that he was the first person on record to state that Cagliostro was Giuseppe Balsamo, it is worth while inquiring into his reason for doing so and the value to be attached to it.
Aylett’s reputation, to begin with, was such as to render the truth of any statement he might make extremely doubtful, if not to invalidate it altogether. Like Reynolds and Priddle, he was a rascally attorney who had been “convicted of perjury and exposed in the pillory.” Granting that he had defended Balsamo in his action against Dr. Benamore, and was sufficiently struck by the resemblance of Cagliostro to his old client as to believe them to be the same person, his conduct on the present occasion was decidedly ambiguous. According to his statement, “happening one day in 1777 to be in Westminster Hall, he perceived a person that he immediately recognized as Balsamo, whom he had not seen since 1772.” Instead of accosting him then and there, he decided to find out where he lived; and after much difficulty learnt that the person he had seen and believed to be Balsamo was in the King’s Bench prison and that his name was Cagliostro; whereupon, without taking the least step to ascertain whether he was right or not in his surmise, he laid a detainer against him for the money Balsamo owed him. No record of any kind exists as to what passed between Aylett and Cagliostro when they finally met, or in fact whether they met at all.
That Aylett would, after having received Cagliostro’s plate or money from Crisp, have admitted he had made a mistake is, judging from the man’s character, not to be credited. But what renders this singular matter still more questionable is the fact that the Editor of the Courier de l’Europe nine years later, when publishing his “incontestable proofs” of the identity of Balsamo with Cagliostro, should have accepted the statement of Aylett and ignored that of Dr. Benamore, who was also living at the time and whose position as representative in England for thirty years of the various Barbary States would, to say the least, have given the weight of respectability to his word. Now as there is no doubt at all that the Editor of the Courier de l’Europe passionately desired that his proofs should really be “incontestable,” there is only one explanation of his conduct in this matter possible: Dr. Benamore must have refused to make the statement requested of him.
On the other hand, Cagliostro—and his word, even prejudice must admit, is to be trusted quite as much as that of an Aylett or the Editor of the Courier de l’Europe—asserts in the most emphatic language that Dr. Benamore was ready to testify in his behalf to a total ignorance of the very name of Balsamo.