“Empiric,” he said, refuting each epithet in turn, not without a certain dignity; “this word I have often heard without knowing exactly what it meant. If it means one who without being a doctor has some knowledge of medicine and takes no fee, who attends to rich and poor alike and receives no money from either, then I confess I am an empiric.
“Mean alchemist. Alchemist or not, the epithet mean is applicable only to those who beg or cringe, and it is well known whether Count Cagliostro ever asked a favour of any one.
“Dreamer on the philosopher’s stone. Whatever my opinion may be concerning the philosopher’s stone, I have kept it to myself and never troubled the public with my dreams.
“False prophet. Not always so. Had the Cardinal taken my advice he would not be in the position in which he now finds himself. I told him more than once that the Countess de Lamotte was a deceitful, intriguing woman, and to beware of her.
“Profaner of the true religion. This is more serious. I have respected religion at all times. My life and my outward conduct I freely submit to the inquiries of the law. As to what passes inwardly God alone has a right to call me to account.”
Cagliostro also took advantage of the occasion to deny the oft-repeated assertion that he was a Jew.
“My education,” he said, “as I have already declared, was that of a child born of Christian parents. I never was a Jew or a Mahometan. These two religions leave on their sectaries an outward and indelible mark. The truth, therefore, of what I here advance may be ascertained; and rather than let any doubt remain on this affair, I am ready, if required, to yield to a verification more shameful for him who exacts it than for the person who submits to it.”[34]
When he was confronted with Madame de Lamotte the scene in court was in the highest degree comic. The Countess, who had an unbounded contempt for the occult in general, covered the séances of Cagliostro with ridicule. She described one at which she had been present as a swindle, and reproached him with having exploited the credulity of the Cardinal by the most vulgar methods and for the most sordid motives. His Eminence, she asserted, was so bewitched that he consulted Cagliostro on “the pricking of a thumb,” which made her “regret she did not live in those blessed times when a charge of sorcery would have led him to the stake.”
But while she attempted to overwhelm the unfortunate creature she had chosen to saddle with her own guilt, he dexterously turned the tables upon her. Assuming that her calumnies were inspired by the desire to clear herself rather than hatred, “he forgave her the tears of bitterness she had caused him to shed.”
“Do not imagine,” he said, with the air of sublime bombast that was characteristic of him, “that my moderation is a piece of mere affectation. From the bottom of the abyss into which you have plunged me I shall raise my voice to implore in your behalf the clemency of the laws; and if, after my innocence and that of my wife is acknowledged, the best of kings should think an unfortunate stranger who had settled in France on the faith of his royal word, of the laws of hospitality, and of the common rights of nations is entitled to some indemnity, the only satisfaction I shall require will be that his Majesty may be pleased, at my request, to pardon and set at liberty the unfortunate Countess de Lamotte. However guilty she may be supposed, she is already sufficiently punished. Alas! as I have been taught by sad experience, there is no crime ever so great but may be atoned for by six months in the Bastille!”