Such a statement inexpressibly shocked the Countess; and considering that the evil spirits from whom she prayed he might be preserved had completely taken possession of him, she resolved to have no more to do with him. At her father’s entreaty, however, she was persuaded to attend another séance, but as Cagliostro, not suspecting her defection, prefaced his phenomena by a discourse on “love-potions,” the Countess was only confirmed in her resolution.
Nevertheless, he was not the man to lose so influential an adherent without a protest. On returning to Mittau he managed to a certain extent to regain her confidence in his sincerity. He perceived, however, that the interest he excited was on the wane, and wisely took advantage of what he knew to be the right moment to depart.
Hoping by the aristocratic connections he had made in Mittau to gain access to the highest circles in Russia, he decided to go to St. Petersburg. His intention was received with dismay by those whom his magical phenomena had so astonished. The von Medems heaped presents on him. “From one he received a gift of 800 ducats, from the other a very valuable diamond ring.” Even the Countess von der Recke herself, though she made no attempt to detain him, proved that she at least believed him to be a man of honour.
A day or two before his departure, being at some Court function, “he recognized old friends in some large and fine pearls the Duchess of Courland was wearing,” which, he said, reminded him of some pearls of his wife’s that he had increased in size by a process known to himself and sold for the benefit of a bankrupt friend in Holland. The Countess von der Recke hereupon desired him to do the same with hers. Cagliostro, however, “refused, as he was going away, and the operation would take too long.” Nor would he take them with him to Russia, as the Countess urged, and return them when the process was complete. A striking instance of his integrity, from an authentic source, that his prejudiced biographers have always seen fit to ignore.
If the above is characteristic of Cagliostro’s honesty, the following episode, also related by the Countess, is equally characteristic of his vanity. Informing him once that she was writing to Lavater and wished to give him the details of a certain conversation, he objected.
“Wait twelve months,” said he, “and when you write call me only Count C. Lavater will ask you, ‘Is not this the Great Cagliostro?’ and you will then be able to reply, ‘It is.’”
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As the unfavourable opinion the Countess von der Recke subsequently formed of Cagliostro, whose path never crossed hers again, has, on account of her deservedly high reputation, been largely responsible for the hostility with which history has regarded him, it is but fair to explain how she came to reverse the favourable opinion she had previously entertained.
The value of her evidence, indeed, rests not so much on her word, which nobody would dream of questioning, but on the manner in which she obtained her evidence. It was not till 1784—five years after Cagliostro had left Mittau—that the Countess von der Recke came to regard him as an impostor. To this opinion she was converted by one Bode whom she met in Weimar and who, she says, gave her “the fullest information concerning Cagliostro.”
Bode was a Freemason of the Order of Strict Observance who had joined the Illuminés and was intimately acquainted with Weishaupt, the founder of the sect. As it is generally assumed that Cagliostro was also an Illuminé, Bode no doubt had excellent means of observing him. The value of his opinion, however, is considerably lowered by the fact that Cagliostro afterwards withdrew from the Illuminés when he had succeeded in turning his connection with them to the account of Egyptian Masonry. Under the circumstances Bode, who afterwards became the leader of the Illuminés, would not be likely to view Cagliostro in a favourable light.