“Your master,” said a sceptic one day, seizing him by the collar, “is a rogue who is taking us all in. Tell me, is it true that he was present at the marriage of Cana?”
“You forget, sir,” was the reply, “I have only been in his service a century.”
Many of the most amazing stories circulated about Cagliostro were merely a repetition of those related twenty years before of Saint-Germain. The recollection of Saint-Germain’s reputed longevity led to the bestowal of a similar attribute to his successor. Thus it was reported that Cagliostro stopped one day before a “Descent from the Cross” in the Louvre and began to talk of the Crucifixion as if he had witnessed it. Though the story was devoid of foundation it was not without effect, and many declared, and believed too, that the Grand Cophta had lived hundreds, and even thousands of years. Cagliostro, it is but fair to add, complained bitterly of this at his trial.
On the strength of the close resemblance in the mystery and the stories concerning Saint-Germain and Cagliostro, as well as their alchemical knowledge—for Saint-Germain, needless to say, was credited with having discovered the philosopher’s stone—Grimm believed Cagliostro to have been the valet alluded to above. There is, however, not the least evidence that the paths of the two men ever crossed.[25]
V
Great though the influence that an impenetrable mystery and so-called supernatural phenomena always exercise over the human mind, their appeal, even when credulity reaches the pitch it did in 1785, will never alone provoke interest so extraordinary as that taken in Cagliostro. It is only a very powerful and magnetic personality that is able to fix such curiosity and to excite such admiration. It is, moreover, equally certain, that had he been such a man as Carlyle has painted him, history would never have heard of him, much less remembered him.
Speaking of Cagliostro’s physiognomy, he describes it as “a most portentous face of scoundrelism; a fat snub, abominable face; dew-lapped, flat-nosed, greasy, full of greediness, sensuality, ox-like obstinacy; the most perfect quack-face produced by the eighteenth century.”
It is the ignorance of his subject, be it said, rather than the violence of his prejudice, which such statements as this reveal that have deprived Carlyle’s opinion of Cagliostro of any value in the estimation of modern writers.[26] There is plenty of reliable information, to which Carlyle had access, to prove that Cagliostro’s appearance was anything but repulsive.
Beugnot, who has described him with more mockery than any of his contemporaries, says “he was of medium height, rather stout, with an olive complexion, a short neck, round face, a broad turned-up nose, and two large eyes.” From all accounts his eyes were remarkable. “I cannot describe his physiognomy,” says the Marquise de Créquy, “for he had twelve or fifteen at his disposal. But no two eyes like his were ever seen; and his teeth were superb.” Laborde speaks of “his eyes of fire which pierced to the bottom of the soul.” Another writer declares that “his glance was like a gimlet.”
All the contemporary documents that speak of him—and they are hostile with very few exceptions—refer to the powerful fascination that he exercised on all who approached him. The impression he produced upon the intellectual Countess von der Recke has already been referred to. Like her, Laborde, Motus, and others considered that his countenance “indicated genius.”