THE ‘DIVINE’ CAGLIOSTRO,
one moment the darling of Paris,
the next a lonely prisoner in a dungeon of the Inquisition,
passed like a meteorite across the face of France
MANLY P HALL1
PARIS – RUE ST CLAUDE
Arriving in Paris in January 1785, the Count and his wife rented rooms on the Rue St Claude, a delightful mansion in which they dedicated a chambre Égyptienne, decorated lavishly in the style of the temples of Egypt replete with statuettes of Isis, Anubis and Apis. It was here that Cagliostro held his mystical séances and dedicated himself once again to being ‘the friend of mankind’, curing those who passed through his doors in their hundreds.
Cagliostro had originally been asked to attend a Masonic Convention by the Lodge of Philalethes (Lovers of Truth), the head of which was Savalette de Langes, an influential royal banker and Master of the Loge des Amis Réunis. At first he had agreed to attend but changed his mind, and demanded that the Philalethes adopt his constitutions to the Egyptian Rite, burn all their archives and consequentially be initiated into the Mother Lodge at Lyons. Unfortunately, further negotiations faltered and this brief connection with the Philalethes Lodge was severed. Urged by his followers to attend the Convention, in which many prominent Masons from all over Europe were to converge and discuss matters of Masonic importance such as its origins, its esoteric relevance and essential nature, Cagliostro decided to use this as a forum for his Egyptian Freemasonry. Initially this caused a ripple of revulsion amongst the Masons of Paris and he was opposed at all levels, but not being the kind of man to take the line of least resistance, he continued with his persuasive speeches. According to French writer Louis Figuier (1819–94):
… his eloquence was so persuasive that he completely converted to his views the large and distinguished audience he addressed.2
It would seem that Cagliostro’s star had risen but it was a star about to fall.
The Affair of the Diamond Necklace
On the morning of 22 August 1785, Cagliostro was faced with a commissaire and eight policemen, who under orders of a Lettre de Cachet 3 bearing the seal of Louis XVI, arrested him on charges of complicity in the ‘Affair of the Diamond Necklace’. He was unceremoniously dragged from his house and, at pistol point, ushered into a carriage which took him to the state prison – the dreaded Bastille.
He subsequently found out that his imprisonment was due to the stupidity of his friend the Cardinal de Rohan who had been magnificently duped by a certain Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy, better known as Comtesse de la Motte (1756–91). The Cardinal had unwittingly fallen prey to the clutches of this embittered woman of minor aristocratic birth who, hoping to get revenge on the monarchy, had mastered a cunning plan to extract a huge amount of money from Rohan to buy a diamond necklace in the name of the Queen, Marie Antoinette. The jewellers in possession of the necklace, which had in fact been intended for the neck of the previous King Louis XV’s mistress Madame du Barry, twice offered it to Antoinette who refused, insisting that France had ‘more need of warships than jewels’.
Fearing bankruptcy and ruin, the jeweller threatened to commit suicide and the whole matter became a source of intrigue amongst the people at court. Knowing that the Cardinal had lost favour with the Queen, and having knowledge of his desire to become Prime Minister, la Motte worked on him pretending to be a confidante of Antoinette’s. She eventually persuaded him that the Queen was enamoured with him, and asked if he would guarantee the money she needed to purchase the sumptuous bauble. He agreed on condition that he met the Queen in person. La Motte’s husband recruited a young prostitute who bore a remarkable resemblance to Marie Antoinette, and under the cover of darkness they boldly produced the young girl to him in the very gardens of the royal palace. Completely awestruck and smitten, the Cardinal was putty in their hands.
La Motte’s perfect machinations went ahead smoothly and the necklace was received and ultimately broken up by her and her husband and sold abroad. Of course, when the first payment for the necklace was due and did not materialize, the Queen was informed by the unwitting jewellers that the debt was in default. She ultimately flew to seek the aid of her husband, Louis XVI, denying all knowledge of the transaction and one by one the pieces fell into place.
The only reason for the Count’s, and by now his wife’s, imprisonment was the corrupt statement from Comtesse de la Motte implicating them in the theft. La Motte’s defence was that Cagliostro and the Cardinal had summoned her to one of their séances and, after much mystical performance, the Cardinal had presented her with a casket of diamonds and directed her to deliver them to her husband and have them disposed of in London. She also used the documented invention of his disgraced druggist Sacchi in an attempt to imply that Cagliostro was merely a jumped-up valet from the slums of Naples whose real name was ‘Thiscio’. She continued in a similar vein, insisting that the Count had invented his exotic past and was nothing more than a charlatan peddling pills to those craving immortality, and that his brand of Freemasonry was a way to dupe the wealthy; its obscene rites and profanities would attempt to bring about the downfall of the Holy Church of Rome.
Poor Cagliostro’s only crime was that of ignorance; having warned the Cardinal about la Motte when he had been introduced to her, he had no other involvement and, in his defence, had not been in the country at the time of the ploy, arriving the day after the agreement had been made with the jewellers. During his period of incarceration, Cagliostro issued a publication in his defence. At the time the whole affair was of national, if not international, intrigue; newspapers ran pages of scandal in disavowal of one or other of the inmates and lawyers queued to accrue themselves money and infamy. The brief for the Count Cagliostro that ensued was a superb piece of propaganda in his favour, in which the account of his early years was written. After much interrogation, and the subsequent hearing, there was no real cause to hold him or the Cardinal and they were acquitted in June 1786 with honours alongside the Countess Cagliostro, after nine horrendous months.
Comtesse de la Motte did not fare so well and was sentenced to be exposed naked in front of the Conciergerie with a rope around her neck and publicly whipped and branded on each shoulder with the letter V – which stood for ‘voleuse’ – thief! She also suffered life imprisonment in a prison for abandoned women; however she escaped to London where she fell from a window to her death in 1791.
On his release from prison, Cagliostro returned to find the Rue St Claude thronging with friends and sympathizers. The Revolutionary fire was smoldering and much had been made of the Queen’s apparent guilt alongside that of the la Mottes. Printed pamphlets were distributed voicing anger and suspicion at the King and Queen’s involvement, not to mention the arrest and incarceration of innocents under the detested power of the Lettre de Cachet and so Cagliostro was seen by some as a martyr of liberty. Unfortunately the devotion shown by the masses was not mirrored by the monarchy and the day following his release, the Cagliostro’s were banished from France by order of the King. Despite his innocence, his presence would have been an embarrassing and constant reminder of the affair.
BANISHED FROM FRANCE
The couple left French soil, their carriage driven between two lines of silent sympathizers, via the port of Boulogne, where it is documented that he gave his blessing to 5,000 persons who knelt on the beach. He went straight to London and never set foot again in his beloved France, his house in Rue St Claude locked up and abandoned for over 24 years. It survived unscathed throughout the Revolution until, in 1810, the doors were once more opened and the great Comte di Cagliostro’s articles of magic and mystery were auctioned off by order of the government. Crucibles and retorts, rare curios and furniture were sold to the highest bidder, then the doors locked once again and the chambre Égyptienne was no more. The house is still there, occupied over the centuries by grocers, feather curlers, a furrier, a manufacturer of cardboard boxes and amusingly a brasserie – the Bar de Cagliostro. I wonder if the various occupants of the house, or customers of the bar, knew that Cagliostro – the Grand Copht of Egyptian Freemasonry, who saw his life’s mission as the rejuvenation of humankind – had once lived within those same walls.
Paving the way for the return of the Count and his wife to British shores were some favourable reports in the English papers. The Times described Cagliostro as ‘an excellent scholar’ and one ‘not with a view to gain, but merely upon a principle of humanity and goodwill to his fellow creatures’. Another exciting source of information was from Parkyns Macmahon’s English translation of Cagliostro’s ‘Memorial…’ produced during his trial and imprisonment in the Bastille, which also included Cagliostro’s robust defence against the vicious accusations of Madame de la Motte. The English public loved the little pamphlet and it was read by all manner of people from royalty to the ‘lowest mechanic’. As mentioned previously, Macmahon, an editor of the Universal Register 4 had past connections with the Courier de l’Europe newspaper, which at the time had, for a fairly small publication, an enormous circulation of at least 5,000 copies a week.
Once more in London the Cagliostros found themselves in great favour; nobles, dignitaries and even princes were falling over themselves to make the acquaintance of the Grand Copht of Egyptian Freemasonry. The couple was soon enough taken under the wing of Samuel Swinton, himself the proprietor of the aforementioned Courier de l’Europe, who found them a superb villa next to his own house in Knightsbridge. Seeing the Count as a fount of wealth in the form of his rejuvenating ‘little red pills’ he implored Cagliostro to set up business with him by opening a clinic such as he had in Strasburg. If Cagliostro was contemplating such, it was about to be put paid to by the introduction of a new ‘friend’ in the form of Charles Theveneau de Morande (1741–1805). Little did they know that de Morande was about to push Cagliostro’s star firmly out of orbit and into a horrifying descent.
If the slurs on Cagliostro’s identity and character are disparaging enough, then Theveneau de Morande could equally rival them. In his book, A Literary Low-Life Reassessed: Charles Theveneau de Morande in London, 1769–1791, Simon Burrows declares:
As pornographer, scandalmonger, extortionist, and spy, Charles Theveneau de Morande, was one of the most notorious men of the eighteenth century.
So, libeller, blackmailer and eventually a spy for the French Government, Charles Theveneau as he was then known, invented his own supposedly noble heritage and labelled himself after the fictitious lineage of ‘de Morande’. He perfected his writer’s art amongst the hacks of London, sharpening his pen on the libellous pornographic tracts they produced, aimed at extorting money from their unfortunate targets. He then moved on to work on various other publications, all as vicious and slanderous as the rest. He even went as far as to threaten to publish a pornographic biography of Madame du Barry, Louis XV’s mistress; this incited a bodged kidnap attempt by the French King. Determined to silence de Morande, the King eventually followed up with an enormous bribe of 32,000 livres and an annuity of 4,000 livres for life! Not one to be deterred, de Morande continued his trail of slander and eventually became editor of the Courier de l’Europe in 1784.
Unwittingly, Cagliostro was setting himself up for the mother of all grillings by de Morande; not only had he misjudged some of the people with whom he had made acquaintance in London but he, at the advice of his French lawyers, started proceedings against the French government over the destruction and confiscation of his remedies and personal articles. A pamphlet soon appeared in the bookshops of Paris, detailing the Count’s outrage at his arrest and describing his abominable treatment in prison. This was followed within the week by a personal letter to a friend bemoaning how he felt he had been betrayed by the rulers of France, which was circulated in republican circles. The letter was then printed on both sides of the Channel under the title ‘Count Cagliostro’s Letter to the French People’.5
Cagliostro was slowly inching himself into a political arena that he was not fully equipped to deal with. The mood in Paris was grim, with rumblings of revolt already tangible – the French people wanted to hear tales of the torture and betrayal of innocents at the hands of their rulers, the tide was turning and the poor unfortunate child of nature appeared to be becoming instrumental in the creeping downfall of a monarchy. In the ‘Letter’ he spoke almost prophetically, stating that he would only return to Paris if the Bastille was torn down and ‘turned into a public promenade!’ He allegedly talked of revolution, prophesying that it would be brought about when the abuse of power destroys power itself and stating that a prince would come, abolishing all Lettres de Cachets by convening the States-general and restoring the true religion. Strong words in a dangerous climate but as usual Cagliostro’s bombastic phrasing was perhaps more flowery in prose than the message that was received by the ears of an ever-impatient mob. Attempting to repair some of the diplomatic damage, the chief minister of Paris issued an order to the French ambassador in London to give Cagliostro leave to return to Paris whilst his case regarding his possessions was heard.
In the meantime the Count had made a new acquaintance, again introduced by Swinton; this time it was the nobleman Lord George Gordon (1751–93), son of the Duke of Atholl. Unaware of the reputation of the Lord as one known by the British people as ‘Mad Lord George’ due to his erratic and subversive behaviour which, amongst other things, sparked off the anti-Catholic riots of 1780, Cagliostro blithely saw only the nobleman’s title and Masonic leanings. To the consternation of the French ambassador when he met with Cagliostro to discuss his return to France, Lord Gordon was in accompaniment, resplendent in full Scottish dress and brandishing a claymore. Bellowing to Cagliostro that it was a trap and making menacing movements towards the envoys, the wild-eyed Lord ensured the meeting was thus doomed. The French Government, now needing to do something quickly about this potential danger, set their trap. The Count was soon to receive the biggest blow ever to his reputation and self-esteem. Theveneau de Morande’s poison dart hit its target when he published a damning account in the Courier de l’Europe entitled ‘The Travels of Count Cagliostro before he arrived in France’.
Was Count Cagliostro ‘Giuseppe Balsamo’?
In his article de Morande sensationally declared that Count Cagliostro was in fact the alias of a notorious Sicilian rogue and forger, Giuseppe ‘Joseph’ Balsamo. Balsamo was reputed to have emerged from the slums of Palermo, becoming a talented forger of documents and paintings who, travelling across Europe with his wife, attracted the attention of several authorities with his confidence tricks. This story was also the official line given by the Roman Catholic Church at the time of Cagliostro’s arrest in 1789 by the Inquisition, and the accusation was printed, distributed, and firmly lodged in the echelons of history as the infamous pamphlet The Life of Joseph Balsamo.6
When the parallel lives of Cagliostro and Balsamo are examined, there are so many inconsistencies that we find it hard to believe that a man who attracted so much attention across Europe was never recognized as Count Cagliostro by any of the authorities. On several occasions both the English and French police were in the position to arrest the Count and Countess Seraphina as impostors. Balsamo and his wife Lorenza had come into contact with the authorities more than once for minor misdemeanours, most notably in Paris when Balsamo had his wife imprisoned for impropriety. W H Trowbridge comments on this very theme:
There is another reason for doubting the identity of the two men. It is the most powerful of all, and has hitherto apparently escaped the attention of those who have taken this singular theory of identification for granted. Nobody that had known Balsamo ever saw Cagliostro.7
On no occasion were the Balsamos arraigned for being ‘the Cagliostros’, nor were the Cagliostros accused of being ‘the Balsamos’. Surely, if the couples were as notorious as they were made out to be, somebody, whether officials, dignitaries or those in polite society, would have made a connection between them and identified them as being the same couple? There is one spurious connection but it was made by the lothario Count Giacomo Casanova di Seingalt (1725–98). A thief, manipulator, fornicator and spy for the inquisition – a veritable source of truth? The answer is perhaps best left to conjecture.
Not only did de Morande accuse the Count of being a charlatan and swindler but he also trotted out a list of misdemeanors from Balsamo’s supposed visits to London and Europe. He ridiculed Cagliostro’s initiation into Esperance Lodge, and in doing so sounded the death knell for Cagliostro’s Masonic career in England and beyond. The London Masons decided on the basis of the article that the Count was an imposter and when Cagliostro attended a meeting at the Lodge of Antiquity in Bloomsbury, a character called Brother Marsh performed a vaudeville ritual providing a farcical depiction of the Count as nothing more than a funfair quack. Undeterred, Cagliostro, in his determination to convert his fellow Masons to Egyptian Freemasonry, went ahead and took out an advert in the Morning Herald on 2 November. It asked that all true Masons come together to bring about the rejuvenation of English Freemasonry, summoning them to a meeting in Great Queen Street on the following day. It read as follows:
In the Name of 9, 5, 8, 14, 20, 1, 8 [Jehovah]; 9, 5, 18, 20, 18 [Jesus]
The Time is at hand when the Building of the New Temple or New Jerusalem, 3, 8, 20, 17, 8 [Church] must begin; this is to invite all True Masons in London to join in the Name of 9, 5, 18, 20, 18 [Jesus] the only one in whom there is a Divine 19, 17, 9, 13, 9, 19, 23 [Trinity] to meet tomorrow evening, the 3d instant, 1786 (or 5790) at Nine o’clock at Riley’s, Great Queen Street; to lay a plan for the laying of the first stone of the foundation of the true 3, 8, 20, 17, 8 [Church] in this visible world, being the material representative Temple of the Spiritual 9, 5, 17, 20, 18, 11, 5, 13 [Jerusalem].
A Mason, and member of the new 3, 8, 20, 17, 8 [Church]
Unfortunately this announcement coincided with de Morande’s humiliating description of the Masonic gathering in Bloomsbury and the meeting came to nothing. Further humiliations followed, including a scathing cartoon attributed to the satirist James Gillray (1757–1815) and an accompanying poem ridiculing all that the Count held dear.
This was the last straw for Cagliostro and after taking legal advice he issued a ‘Letter to the English People’ attempting to defend himself, whilst also breaching the character of Theveneau de Morande. De Morande, in turn, used every ounce of resourcefulness and decided to have Cagliostro thrown in jail for trumped-up debts. It is interesting to note that in the end Morande had to retract his statement and make an apology, but by then the damage was done, the Count admitted defeat and did what he did best – packed his bags and left the country.
THE FINAL DESTINATION – ROME
The Cagliostros left England for Europe, the Count heartbroken at the betrayal by his fellow Masons and chastened by the public ridicule. The couple settled for some time in Switzerland but times were changing and Cagliostro soon found himself in a land of cold political climate. He was becoming disillusioned by his so-called friends and Seraphina was miserable; now forbidden to practise his particular form of Freemasonry or his medicine in Germany, Austria, Russia and Spain, it was decided that they would return once more to Rome. This was by far the most foolish move that they could make, for Freemasonry itself was a capital offence within the jurisdiction of the Papal States.
Rome, 27 December 1789, the Feast day of St John the Evangelist, author of the Apocalypse and patron of Masons. Count Alessandro di Cagliostro was none the wiser that a pleasant evening spent in deep discussion with friends was about to be torn apart. He was unaware that previously that day the Vatican council had met in the presence of Pope Pius VI, and had already decided to arrest and condemn him to death. Although documentation of the true events are sketchy, it is reported that the secret police of the Holy Office burst into the room and once the Count realized what was afoot he grabbed a pistol and aimed it at the source of his betrayal – his beloved wife. The gun, however, misfired and he was dragged unceremoniously to the prison in the papal fortress of Castel Sant’Angelo. Thinking that she was now in a position of safety, Seraphina was somewhat surprised to be escorted to a nearby convent. The Sisters of Santa Appolonia were to be her protectors and tutors in the devotional practice she so longed for; not quite what the devious Seraphina had planned.
What followed for Cagliostro were 15 torturous months spent in squalid conditions within the sturdy walls of the Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome. After months of interrogation and no doubt coercion to confess, Cagliostro was eventually brought before the Inquisition to hear his final sentence.
Declaration of Sentence of Count Cagliostro – 7 April 1791
Giuseppe Balsamo, attainted and convicted of many crimes, and of having incurred the censures and penalties pronounced against heretics, dogmatics, heresiarchs and propagators of magic and superstition, has been found guilty and condemned to the said censures and penalties as decreed by the Apostolic laws of Clement XII and Benedict XIV, against all persons who in any manner whatever favour or form societies of conventicles of Freemasonry as well as by the edict of the Council of State against all persons convicted of this crime in Rome or any other place in the dominions of the Pope.
Notwithstanding, by special grace and favour, the sentence of death by which this crime is expiated is hereby commuted into perpetual imprisonment in a fortress, where the culprit is to be strictly guarded without any hope of pardon whatever. Furthermore, after he shall have abjured his offences as a heretic in the place of his imprisonment he shall receive absolution, and certain salutary penances will then be prescribed for him to which he is hereby ordered to submit.
Likewise, the manuscript book which has for its title Egyptian Masonry is solemnly condemned as containing rites, propositions, doctrines and a system which being superstitious, impious, heretical and altogether blasphemous; open a road to sedition and the destruction of the Christian religion. This book shall therefore be burnt by the executioner, together with all the other documents relating to this sect.
By a new Apostolic law we shall confirm and renew not only the laws of the preceding pontiffs which prohibit the societies and conventicles of Freemasonry, making particular mention of the Egyptian sect and of another vulgarly known as the Illumines and we shall decree that the most grievous corporal punishments reserved for heretics shall be inflicted on all who shall associate, hold communion with, or protect these societies.
The Moniteur Universel published this story:
The sentence has been posted here ordering that the papers and effects of Monsieur Cagliostro should be burned by the hand of the executioner. That order was carried out this morning on the Piazza di Minerva. It lasted three quarters of an hour. The people made a holiday of it. As each article was thrown on the fire – books, posters, licensed documents, Masonic cordons – the multitude clapped their hands and shouted for joy.8
These words reverberated throughout Europe where, already bolstered by the Revolution in France, they created a sense of outrage and in turn an outpouring of revulsion in Cagliostro’s favour and against the tyranny of the Church. A further statement in an article in Feuille Villageoise summed up the general feeling:
The Pope ought to have abandoned Cagliostro to the effects of his bad reputation. Instead he has had him shut up and tried by charlatans far more dangerous to society than himself. His sentence is cruel and ridiculous. If all who make dupes of the crowd were punished in this fashion, precedence on the scaffold should certainly be granted to the Roman Inquisitors.
The trial itself was documented in a small book written by the Vatican notary, Father Marcello, and published under the pseudonym Monsignor Giovanni Barberi. La Vie de Joseph Balsamo (translated as The Life of Joseph Balsamo) was less a biography of Balsamo/Cagliostro than a direct and vicious attack on Freemasonry. Its depiction of Masonry as a vile and odious society capable of being able to ‘open a road to sedition and the destruction of the Christian religion’, infuriated the Freemasons of Europe. They responded by issuing a pamphlet in defence of their beliefs.
This pamphlet … appeared under the auspices of the Swiss government and produced such a sensation throughout Italy, and particularly in Rome, that the Conclave, terrified at the revolutionary fury it had awakened, instructed its agents to buy up every copy they could find.
In his biography of Cagliostro, W R H Trowbridge declared:
The Conclave would have been better advised to suppress the work of the Inquisition biographer. The account it contains of Cagliostro’s trial completely justifies the popular belief in the bigotry, cruelty, tyranny and total lack of the Christian spirit that characterized the proceedings of the Holy Inquisition.
Europe was rocked by the condemnation of this well-known Freemason and healer of the sick. The enormity of the situation was terrifying, if only because many feared for their own safety. Cardinal de Rohan, the Archbishop of Bourges, Dom Pernety and Father Joseph – all trembled at the sentence passed upon him.9
So why on earth had the Cagliostros sought to return to Rome? In the first instance it was probably Seraphina’s desire to visit her aging father and find some form of stability for once. She was sick and tired of inclement weather, having to pawn her jewels when things went wrong and was harbouring a growing disinterest in her husband’s vision of Egyptian Freemasonry as a panacea for all ills. Whilst they were on the move once more between Switzerland and Italy, she had been secretly handed some letters from her family in Rome. Her father expressed his concern at her recent trials and tribulations, worried by all the reports that were filtering through Europe, and he implored her to consider her future.
Awash with nostalgia for her childhood home and the warm embrace of her family, Seraphina began to ponder long and hard on her plans for her more mature years. She missed her family and her religion, and while she and the Count were in Roveredo, she met with a priest and made every effort to revert to her Catholic faith. The priest, Clemontino Vannetti, made note of her piety in his memoirs.10
Cagliostro himself did not seem too perturbed by his wife’s reversion to Catholicism and when they were next hounded from their lodgings by doctors, jealous of Cagliostro’s healing ministrations, Seraphina’s newfound faith stood them in good stead. Their landlord from Roveredo provided a letter of introduction which gained the trust of the overlord of the town, a Prince Pietro Virgilio Thun – the Bishop of Trent.
Similar to the connection that had occurred between Cagliostro and Cardinal de Rohan in France, the Bishop had an interest in the occult and it didn’t take long for an idea to formulate in Seraphina’s mind. Seven years earlier, de Rohan had expressed an idea to the Cagliostros; a casual comment postulating as to whether the Church might ever accept Egyptian Freemasonry as a kind of Catholic side order. Seraphina became quite excited and claimed that surely the Pope was a powerful enough ally to protect them from the heads of state in France who were still baying for Cagliostro’s blood. Who would mess with the Vatican, surely not even Marie Antoinette? Amazingly, the Bishop did not dismiss the idea, probably due to the kudos of managing to return one of Europe’s most notorious dissidents back to the Catholic flock: not missing a trick the Bishop was envisaging the robes of a cardinal. The Cagliostros themselves were dreaming of the Count becoming a founding father of an order as elite as that of the Order of St John, also known as the Knights of Malta.
However, there was some ground to be covered before any of these ideas could be put in motion, particularly the Count’s ‘heretical’ nature. When questioned on the basics of the Church’s catechisms, Cagliostro’s knowledge was basic, although his discussions were lengthy and as usual quite bombastic. The task of re-educating the Count was placed in the hands of one Father Ghezzi, who although extremely sceptical at the sincerity of Cagliostro’s ‘conversion’ and the notion that this strange Freemason could hold sway with the Pope, was nonetheless impressed by his application to the catechisms and showing repentance for his sins.
The Bishop was delighted and took the bold step of writing a heartfelt letter of recommendation to the Vatican, asking for the safe return to Rome for the couple. He omitted to mention any ideas concerning the amalgamation of Egyptian Masonry with the Church just for the present. He merely stated that Seraphina was a good Catholic woman who wished to see her ailing father and was concerned that her husband’s notoriety would be an obstacle to their entering Rome. He also mentioned that Cagliostro himself had made strong concessions to re-establishing his faith and had taken full confession.
On 4 April, Bishop Thun received a reply from the Vatican. It was certainly a time for celebration – it stated that Count Cagliostro was under no legal restriction to enter the Papal State. Seraphina also received a letter from her father confirming that they would get no trouble from the Catholic authorities. In their joy at such news, no one noticed that the wording of the papal notice was somewhat ambiguous.
Seraphina, bolstered by the news, continued her onslaught of pressure on the Count to return to Rome and this was compounded sometime in May when the Bishop received some unpleasant news. Emperor Joseph II of Austria, the brother of Marie Antoinette, had sent him a scalding letter, incredulous that a man in such a position as the Bishop was harbouring a notorious swindler and member of the Illuminati. It was definitely time to move on, and armoured with the Bishop’s recommendation the couple made their way to Rome.
Once in the noble city, the Cagliostros were greeted with great enthusiasm; nobles from France who missed the joie de vivre of the Parisian social circus, and Italians anxious to mingle with fabled celebrities. The Count was overjoyed to be remembered by various members of the Knights of Malta, in particular Father François-Joseph de Saint Maurice. He had been an advocate of Cagliostro’s for some time and had allegedly predicted that he would meet the Count in Rome, which amazingly now was true. As he was also experiencing a slump in his career, he was very happy to be aided by Cagliostro who, in return, appointed Saint Maurice as his secretary.
However, according to some sources, Seraphina was not enjoying her return to her homeland as much as her husband. It is implied that the Countess, becoming more and more disillusioned with her situation, decided to betray her husband. She began to make detailed notes of any impropriety that he may have commited and was rumoured to have had their servants and other acquaintances employed as spies against the Count. Not only was she furious that the plan to introduce Egyptian Freemasonry into the Catholic Church had gone awry, and Cagliostro had not been granted an audience with the Pope, but she wanted to rid herself of her husband so that she could remarry.
The most obvious thing for her to do would be to have him convicted of blasphemy and if this is indeed what Seraphina planned and executed, then it was the ultimate in betrayals to a man who, although flawed, had always been a good husband to her. The story goes that Seraphina noted every impropriety and blasphemous action that Cagliostro committed, allegedly cajoling him into the utmost of lewdities and satirical jibes at the Catholic faith, and then faithfully reported them to her scandalized family, who in turn passed on the information to their priest, who ultimately made it known to the most dangerous ears of all – the Inquisition.
The trap it seemed had been laid and now the bait was prepared. Seraphina continued to bemoan their impoverished state and finally Cagliostro decided to fall back on Freemasonry. He made some friends amongst the artists of Rome and found that one of the painters had formed a small Lodge. Now having to operate on a mercenary level, Cagliostro carefully announced the revival of Egyptian Freemasonry to his trusted friends. He hoped to invite the Marquise Vivaldi to become Grand Mistress, in doing so ensuring that she would then enroll her wealthy companions. At a secret meeting in September 1789, he explained his vision of rejuvenation to his carefully selected guests and although they were intrigued by his words, only two were willing to pay for the privilege of their initiation diploma. The two men were Carlo Antonini, a friend of the Felicianis, and Matteo Berardi, a governmental lawyer. Unbeknownst to Cagliostro, Carlo Antonini was reputedly not only Seraphina’s lover and prospective husband, he was also a spy. Rumours that the Countess was attempting to betray him reached Cagliostro’s ears and he asked his friend, Saint Maurice, to keep an eye out for him. He did not really doubt his wife’s love and believed that she was merely upset with him, as often she was, for allowing their finances to dwindle. Little did he know that Seraphina had allegedly already asked to make a deposition to the Holy Office for the repose of her conscience. If this were the case, she would be seen as the pious sheep returning to the flock and Cagliostro would be doomed.
Meanwhile, in Europe, the political wheels were turning, with the rumblings of Revolution becoming louder. News of rising political reformers reached Rome, and Cagliostro once more felt that it could be possible to initiate the true moral rejuvenation of mankind through Egyptian Freemasonry. With the monarchy in France losing its footing, his enemies from the Diamond Necklace trial meeting a rather unpleasant end at the hands of the mob and, much more importantly, his previous ally the Cardinal de Rohan elevated to a position of power within the Revolutionary Assembly, it was appearing likely that Cagliostro could return to France and catapult his star back into orbit. He and François-Joseph de Saint Maurice decided to write a petitioning letter requesting permission for their return to France. For Cagliostro, the proposition of returning to the country he loved, now free from superstition and religious fanatics, was a dream come true. He would reunite with Cardinal de Rohan and reinstate himself as Grand Copht, bringing enlightenment and moral salvation to the newly liberated land.
Seraphina, on the other hand, was aghast; all her plans would be ruined if they were to leave Rome and her family had arranged for her to give her deposition. She needed to act fast and so she employed her greatest skill – seduction. Poor Saint Maurice was like a sitting duck; Seraphina ‘unburdened’ her secret love for him and in doing so ensured that his ‘surveillance’ of her took on a whole new perspective. One day in November, with the knowledge that the Count would be absent from the house, Seraphina’s cohorts brought a priest, who would take her deposition from her, to the courtyard outside her bedroom. After having questions shouted up to her, Seraphina would hastily respond whilst a Church official scribed the whole conversation.
This deposition, in addition to inflammatory testimonies from her father and the two recent Egyptian Rite initiates (see page 65), was deemed enough for the Inquisition to act. On 27 December 1789, various members of the Holy Office met at the Cardinal de Zeleda’s house. They were awaiting the presence of Pope Pius VI, who had just finished attending the mass of the Feast of St John. Normally such a procedure would have been left in the hands of the officials of the Church, so it was a notable matter of great urgency and importance that the Pope himself had deigned to appear. After an address from the Pontiff, the council unanimously concurred with his decision to have Cagliostro and his secretary arrested forthwith and their dwelling searched for damning evidence. In a letter from Lorenzo Prospero Bottini, dated 2 January 1790, he records:
Last Sunday secret and extraordinary debates in council took place at the Vatican. No one knows exactly what transpired but it was obvious from the arrest of the Count and Countess, what the context was likely to be. Cagliostro had been betrayed, not only by his wife but also by François-Joseph, his secretary and friend.
BETRAYAL AND SERAPHINA’S CONFESSION
Cagliostro languished in a squalid, cramped cell for 15 months during his interrogation and trial. Devastated by his wife’s betrayal, he repeatedly lurched between misery at having been abandoned by her and consolation that she must have been tricked into betraying him. He was obsessed by her and it tormented him almost as much as the interrogators themselves. Even his hardened jailers were moved by his devotion to her and testified to such. He was allowed no contact with the outside world and specifically denied any communication with his wife, even though he pleaded with his torturers to allow him to see her or for her to be allowed to share his cell. The conditions for the Count in the Castel Sant’Angelo were pitiful and a far cry from his previous incarceration in the Bastille; not only was he denied any shaving or grooming tools, for fear that he would harm himself or others, but he was also deprived of writing implements. It was filthy, cramped and festering with waste and food matter, but this was minor in comparison to his misery and pain from torment and torture at hearing his wife’s confession.
Seraphina’s testimony was reported as tantalizingly sensational; she described how she had been groomed from child-woman to apparent harlot, with Cagliostro as an immoral ‘pimp’. The gloating minutes record her admission that:
… the first lessons which the young bride received from her husband, were intended (according to her own confessions) to instruct her in the means of attracting and gratifying the pleasures of the other sex.
Father Marcello, the Inquisition biographer describes how Cagliostro, on one occasion, instructed Seraphina to go to the chambers of another man and subsequently became incensed when he learned that she had not performed as required, allegedly stating ‘… adultery is no crime in a woman who commits it on account of her interest, and not simply through affection to another man’.
The testimony of Seraphina continues in a similar negative vein but she does not anywhere describe why she tolerated her husband’s alleged brutalities for 16 years, nor indeed why she did not leave him on any occasion even though, if we are to believe the story that she was continually playing the coquette with men of means, she had every opportunity to abscond with someone richer and more handsome. The Church ridiculed Cagliostro’s appearance, rendering him so ugly and repugnant that no woman, ‘… unless she was either old, or so ugly that she could never have expected a lover, had not such a man as Balsamo been in existence …’ would have glanced twice at him. How strange that he managed to endear himself to Seraphina, a woman described as a genteel beauty, for 16 years of marriage.
The interrogators continued with this account:
Let us … hear the depositions of his wife. She declared upon oath that many of the pupils [seers] had been prepared beforehand by her husband and had their lesson given them in regard to every question about which they were to be interrogated but that some however had been chosen unawares to him; and that, in regard to them, she imagined that he could only operate by the intervention of magic.11
With this statement, is the Church implying guilt for being a charlatan and duping his audience or for his use of magic on the other occasions, or both? Why did Seraphina go to such lengths to betray her husband? Maybe she was thoroughly disenchanted with him but after 16 years of marriage, would she have wanted to see him destroyed so readily? Perhaps her initial accusations that led to his arrest were given in the naïve belief that he would have been jailed for a short period, enabling her to have secured a divorce and escape to a richer and more desirable beau. Was she really the calculating femme fatale the Holy Office led us to believe or was she encouraged to render a drowning man to the depths? Was she really as naïve as to think that she could get away with having been firmly embroiled in Freemasonry herself?
If you can, imagine the scenario of a middle-aged 18th-century woman, caught between her desire for freedom and most likely her life, and the interrogations of one of the most terrifying inquisitors known to man. She would have at least been shown ‘the rack’, the infamous implement of torture. There is no record of the ‘encouragement’ offered her to reveal evidence against her husband but, if resistant to confession, she may well have been subjected to violent means, such as the obscene practice of the ‘Ordeal of Water’. This odious torture was often used on women as it left no physical trace to be witnessed afterwards. It consisted of laying the woman over a bench, face up, with a funnel inserted into the mouth and the nostrils blocked with rags. Copious amounts of water were then poured into the funnel until the stomach was about to burst; the inquisitors would then beat the victim’s grossly swollen stomach until they confessed. If you were really unlucky the water would have been mixed with urine, pepper or diarrhoea.
Aside from any torture inflicted she would have been held in despicable conditions, kept without food or water for periods of time, possibly in the dark with just the rats and insects for company amongst her own waste; frightened, sleep deprived and undoubtedly verbally abused. A perfect recipe for confession!
THE EVIDENCE AGAINST CAGLIOSTRO AS STATED BY THE INQUISITION
Cagliostro was subjected to 43 interrogations during the months he was held in Rome. The Vatican spared no expense, employing so-called expert theologians to study his Egyptian Freemasonry, legal investigators to trawl through every bit of evidence and medical experts to dissect his herbal preparations. According to some, it took this long to be able to scrape together enough detritus to condemn the poor man. He was allowed no witnesses to defend his name and the Vatican appointed two lawyers in his defence who, ironically, pleaded that Cagliostro was guilty and deserved punishment – no fair trial, no justice. The Inquisition did not need to give proof of its judgments and no interference was tolerated – case closed. Selected details of the trial were published in the official Inquisition publication The Life of Joseph Balsamo (see page xvi). The full transcript of the interrogation and trial is in the Vatican secret archives and is not available to the public. The Life of Joseph Balsamo makes difficult reading. It was meticulously put together to cast as black a shadow as possible, not only across Cagliostro but also over Freemasonry in general. It is pertinent to note that there were other Masons in Rome during this period, many of whom were well known to the Vatican, some of whom were in fact Catholics. Rumoured to be members of the Order of St John (whose Grand Masters included Pinto and Emmanuel de Rohan, great uncle of Cardinal de Rohan), several men fled from the city as soon as they realized the seriousness of the situation. Those who remained in Rome were neither called as witnesses at the trial nor were they prosecuted for their involvement in Freemasonry.
The Inquisition biographer says of Freemasonry:
What is the object of the Free Masons [sic], and those phrenetic [sic] societies called the Illuminati, with their plots, their secrets, their invocations and their ridiculous rites? 12
The Church were obsessed with the idea that Cagliostro was a major player in the Bavarian Illuminati, due to his admission that he had been invited to join. However, a few months after Cagliostro’s imprisonment, a German Illuminist J Johann Christoph Bode (1730–93), refuted the theory in an anonymous treatise, stating that there was no documented proof of any deep involvement in the Illuminati by Cagliostro.13
The Illuminati have long been the subject of conspiracy theory and conjecture but there is no real evidence that they were any more responsible for revolution and the overthrow of orthodox religion than any of the other political movers and shakers of the time. The Holy Father further stated that Cagliostro, after being acquitted of wrong-doing in the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, had harboured a terrible vengeance against the Bourbon regime and that revolution trailed in his wake, spurred on by the followers of his diabolical Freemasonry. His return to Rome was intended as an incendiary to ignite revolution within the Papal States and to bring about the fall of the Catholic faith, for according to rumour, his fellow brethren would rise up and strike against the Church, using money from Cagliostro’s sponsors to fund a fleet of 5,000 ships so as to lay siege against Rome! Did it not occur to the Church that instead of Freemasons and free thinkers as the propagators of revolution, maybe it was just subordinated people with a mind of their own that turned against the bourgeoisie?
Elsewhere in the text we find evidence of the Holy Church’s ignorance towards Freemasonry and its historical roots. In one case, the biographer relates a short history of Freemasonry, including the mention of Bishop Cranmer as the founder of Freemasonry and later remarking on Oliver Cromwell’s patriotism. This statement induced an amused footnote from the English translator, who quipped:
The Holy Father seems to be little acquainted with either the history or mysteries of Freemasonry … in this paragraph, we find a new charge against Cranmer and a new virtue attributed to Oliver Cromwell, for we learn that one was a Free Mason [sic] and the other a patriot! 14
The Holy Father continues with the presumptuous assertion:
Many persons who have carefully examined and scrutinized the lives of the Free Masons [sic], declare that they have found them all, and particularly their leaders, to be men of bad character, ignorant and equally destitute of morality and religion. But laying conjecture aside, we shall have recourse to facts only …15
This sentence contradicts itself. If many people have declared the facts why would they need to lay aside conjecture? It was somewhat ambiguous to assert that all Freemasons are bad, ignorant and morally destitute. For a growing society aimed at perfecting the art of morality, it would seem slightly incongruous to be able to tar them all with the same brush. The Church also produced spurious evidence against Freemasonry from unnamed witnesses who allegedly came forward after Cagliostro’s arrest. They state:
It results from many spontaneous declarations from the depositions of witnesses, and other papers held in our archives, that while, among those assembled under pretence of occupying themselves about the business of the society, some openly profess the most daring contempt for religion and the most avowed and abominable libertinism, others attempt to overturn the yoke of subordination and destroy the principles of the monarchy.
Whilst doubting that any depositions given to the Inquisition were ‘spontaneous’, we can also assume that information extracted was the result of the witnesses’ fear for either their liberty or their lives. The other ‘papers in our own archives’ would never reach the light of day and these witnesses never appeared at the trial itself.
Cagliostro had allegedly been warned of his imminent arrest and the trial made full use of the fact that he did not destroy any of his Masonic manuscripts, certificates or regalia. It was with some contempt that they wrote:
… not withstanding these warnings, Cagliostro never dreamed of flying; nay, he did not even destroy those numerous papers which have since served as vouchers of his crimes, and have furnished the most ample proofs of his complicated guilt.16
A lasting comment, made by the translator of the English edition of the Inquisition text, was entitled ‘Advertisement by the English Translator’ and placed at the beginning of the book:
Whatever motive may have influenced the Court of Rome, it will be lasting reproach on the reign of Pious VI to have detained, tried and inflicted the punishment of perpetual imprisonment on a man, against whom he could only prove the crime of being a Free Mason.
THE CHURCH’S CONDEMNATION OF CAGLIOSTRO’S EGYPTIAN FREEMASONRY
The following quotes regarding Egyptian Freemasonry are taken from the Inquisition biography The Life of Joseph Balsamo. The full Ritual is published in English for the first time in Part Three, allowing the reader a chance to make up his/her mind as to the truth.
The Holy Church despised Freemasonry but in particular they were contemptuous of Cagliostro’s Egyptian Rite, branding it:
… as containing rites, propositions, doctrines and a system which being superstitious, impious, heretical and altogether blasphemous, open a road to sedition and the destruction of the Christian religion.
To the Catholics it was intensely heretical – here was a man, not a pope, cardinal or priest, who was offering men and women the chance to perfect themselves morally and physically to achieve spiritual enlightenment. Not subordinating themselves to a priest who knows best and is the only one who can guide a soul to heaven; no confessional and absolution – just hard work and the dedication to truly improve oneself and achieve the immortality of the soul as first described by the ancient Egyptians.
The Church describes Egyptian Freemasonry:
It may be necessary to enter into some details concerning Egyptian Masonry. We shall extract our facts from a book compiled by himself, and now in our possession, by which he owns he was always directed in the exercise of his functions, and from which those regulations and instructions were copied, wherewith he enriched many Mother Lodges. In this treatise, which is written in French, he promises to conduct his disciples to perfection by means of physical and moral regeneration, to confer perpetual youth and beauty on them, and restore them to that state of innocence which they were deprived of by means of original sin. He asserts that Egyptian Masonry was first propagated by Enoch and Elias, but that since that time it has lost much of its purity and splendour. Common masonry, according to him, has degenerated into mere buffoonery, and women have of late been entirely excluded from its mysteries; but the time had now arrived when the Grand Copht was about to restore the glory of masonry, and allow its benefits to be participated by both sexes.
The statutes of the order then follow in rotation, the division of the members into three distinct classes, the various signs by which they might discover each other, the officers who are to preside over and regulate the society, the stated times when the members are to assemble, the erection of a tribunal for deciding all differences that may arise between the several lodges or the particular members of each, and the various ceremonies which ought to take place at the admission of the candidates.
The objections with regards to the Ritual are clear – blasphemy; tolerance and acceptance of other faiths and races; communing with spirits (angels) and heresy.
The Church comment on the blasphemous aspect:
In every part of this book the pious reader is disgusted with the sacrilege, the profanity, the superstition, and the idolatry with which it abounds – the invocations in the name of God, the prostrations, the adorations paid to the Grand Master, the fumigations, the incense, the exorcisms, the emblems of the Divine Triad, of the moon, of the sun, of the compass, of the square, and a thousand other scandalous particulars, with which the world is at present acquainted.
The use of Christian terminology and references to biblical figures in the Ritual did nothing to appease the Church, in fact it only served to fuel their wrath – this was blasphemy, impiety, but in many esoteric groups, the Christian faith was still of great importance to them and an overlap of symbolism and allegory was par for the course.
The trial commentary continues:
The Grand Copht, or chief of the lodge, is compared – to God the Father. He is invoked upon every occasion; he regulates all the actions of the members and all the ceremonies of the lodge, and he is even supposed to have communication with angels and with the Divinity. In the exercise of many of the rites they are desired to repeat the Veni and the Te Deum – nay, to such an excess of impiety are they enjoined, that in reciting the psalm Memento Domine David, the name of the Grand Master is always to be substituted for that of the King of Israel. Common masons have been accustomed to regard St John as their patron, and to celebrate the festival of that saint. Cagliostro also adopted him as his protector, and it is not a little remarkable that he was imprisoned at Rome on the very festival of his patron.
The reason for his veneration of this great prophet was, if we are to believe himself, the great similarity between the Apocalypse and the rites of his institution.
Cagliostro, for the most part, did indeed consider himself a Christian. He may not have conformed to the ideal of the Catholic Church but he was far from the religiously destitute and ignorant creature they portrayed him as. If anything he was deeply religious – just not quite how the Church deemed appropriate.
Here follows a question posed by the Inquisition:
Q: Has not your conduct tended to debase and disgrace the great work of the redemption and the death of our Lord Jesus Christ?
A: No, never. For in my primitive system and in all my operations, I made the most honourable mention of the serpent with the apple in its mouth, which I have adopted for my crest, and which denotes the cause of original sin, and of the subsequent fall. The redemption of our Lord Jesus Christ is the arrow which has pierced the serpent; and this we ought to keep constantly before our eyes and in our hearts …17
The Church also had issue with the fact that Cagliostro’s Egyptian Freemasonry, along with regular Freemasonry, accepted and embraced the admission of those from all faiths and races.
The Holy Father comments:
People of all religions are admitted into the society of Egyptian Masonry – the Jew, the Calvinist, the Lutheran are to be received into it as well as the Catholic – provided they believe in the existence of God and the immortality of the soul, and have been previously allowed to participate in the mysteries of the common Masonry.
The doctrine of Egyptian Freemasonry promotes tolerance. But for the Holy Church, tolerance brings with it the necessary recognition of other faiths, of other ideals that if widely understood and accepted may well ‘open a road to sedition’. However, nowhere in the Ritual itself is there reference to encouraging sedition or the destruction of the faith. If we look at the Ritual (see Chapter 9), there is in the eighth point of doctrine the phrase, ‘The images of the Divinity are supreme; Egyptian Masons respect them and cherish yours above all else, never speak against the Laws of the country where you live, or against the Religion which prevails in that place.’ It is clearly stated, as in regular Freemasonry, that the law of the land and respect for the official religion is expected of its members.
Cagliostro was quoted as saying he ‘loved the Jews exceedingly and was used to affirm that they were the best nation in the world’. Certain factions within the Church have never been able to contain their dislike of the Jewish race and this probably did nothing to change their opinion, especially considering the alleged financial connection between the Jews, the Freemasons and the Illuminati – the perfect conspiratorial union to bring down the monarchies of Europe and the Catholic faith. There is much speculation as to the role of Freemasons, the Jews and the Illuminati with regard to the French Revolution and other social disintegration, but there is no conclusive proof, merely prejudice, conjecture and thinly veiled anti-Semitism. Much will continue to be discussed and published regarding the ‘New World Order’ and other such conspiracies but the purveyors of such theories hold the very same kind of manipulative coercion and dangerous leadership that they are accusing their subjects of.
The Church also makes comments on the Ritual with regard to the communication with the seven archangels:
We must here observe that when any of his disciples were admitted into the highest class, the following execrable ceremony took place. A young boy or girl, in the state of virgin innocence and purity, was procured, who was called the pupil, and to whom power was given over the seven spirits that surround the throne of their divinity and preside over the seven planets. Their names according to Cagliostro’s book are Anael, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Zobiachel, and Anachiel. The pupille is then made use of as an intermediate agent between the spiritual and physical worlds, and being clothed in a long white robe, adorned with a red ribbon, and blue silk festoons, he is shut up in a little closet. From that place he gives responses to the Grand Master, and tells whether the spirits and Moses have agreed to receive the candidates into the highest class of Egyptian masons.
The Holy Fathers were equally contemptible when it came to the subject of immortality:
In his instructions to obtain the moral and physical regeneration which he had promised to his disciples, he is exceedingly careful to give a minute description of the operations to which they have to submit. Those who are desirous of experiencing the moral regeneration are to retire from the world for the space of forty days, and to distribute their time into certain proportions. Six hours are to be employed in reflection, three in prayer to the Deity, nine in the holy operations of Egyptian Masonry, while the remaining period is to be dedicated to repose. At the end of the thirty-three days a visible communication is to take place between the patient and the seven primitive spirits, and on the morning of the fortieth day his soul will be inspired with divine knowledge, and his body be as pure as that of a new-born infant.
Obviously, the Church could never condone the idea that anyone other than the Almighty himself could confer immortality, and it was only through the guidance of a priest that the individual could find salvation. Cagliostro, however, as a conduit of the Divine, believed he was able to guide his followers to a similar goal.
The Official Objections of the Holy Roman Church with regards to Count Alessandro di Cagliostro (as stated in The Life of Joseph Balsamo)
This was a general summary of the Church’s case against Cagliostro:
First – on all occasions he manifested the most obstinate hatred and contempt for the Catholic religion, its ministers and ceremonies.
He attacked the majesty and perfection of God, the divinity of Jesus Christ; his death, the grand work of redemption, the virginity of Mary, the efficacy of the sacraments, the dignity of the Church, in short everything that is most venerable and most respected either in heaven or on earth.
From what we have discovered about Cagliostro, he had many close associates and admirers who were not only Catholic but held positions of high office, for example Cardinal Rohan and Bishop Trent. He included certain tracts from the Catholic Mass in his Ritual, which although heretical, was obviously not contemptuous – he believed himself to be a Christian. He may well have raged against the Church during his interrogations but that is for the Holy Fathers to prove, should we be privy to the minutes of said examinations. Nowhere in the Ritual or in any of the official quotes is there any attack on God or Christ by Cagliostro. He is devoutly respectful of the Divine and other representatives of that Divinity. Technically he was blasphemous towards the Christian Church by implying that through his system of rejuvenation his followers could achieve immortality, and therefore as a man ahead of his time he sits firmly in the category that many of his mystical predecessors did – as a heretic to the Church and a spiritual visionary to others.
Second – According to the evidence of a great number of witnesses who have conversed with him themselves, or known others who have done so, he is unanimously represented as a man destitute of religion, whose principles are entirely corrupted, who does not believe in anything, and one who is generally considered an atheist, an imposter, a cheat, a heretic, a deist &c… absolutely devoid of every principle of religion and morality.
From our research none of the ‘great number of witnesses’ who conversed with Cagliostro have been recorded as such within the evidence seen, and word-of-mouth evidence from ‘others’ would or should be totally inadmissible. He was not unanimously represented as destitute or devoid of any principle of religion – it is obvious that he was extremely knowledgeable and had many principles with regard to religion. There are numerous testimonies to his good character, written over the years by dignitaries and noblemen from the various countries he visited. He was, by definition, not an atheist considering the wording within his Ritual and his constant referrals to God or the Divine. The assertion that he was an atheist is then totally contradicted by the accusation of him being a Deist! As to being an imposter and a cheat, that can hardly qualify as anything other than adding insult to injury.
Letters which vouch for the good name of Cagliostro are available from three separate French sources, sent to M Gerard, Judge of Strasburg:
From Comte de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign Affairs:
M. di Cagliostro asks only for peace and security. Hospitality entitles him to both. Knowing your natural inclinations, I am convinced that you will make haste to see that he enjoys all those perquisites and amenities which he personally deserves.18
The second letter was penned by the Marquis de Miromesnil, Keeper of the Seal:
Conte di Cagliostro has been actively engaged in helping the poor and the unfortunate and I know of a notably humane deed performed by this stranger who deserves to be granted special protection.
The third correspondence was from Marshal de Segur, the Minister of War:
The King charges you not only that he should not be harassed in Strasburg … but also that he should receive in that city the full consideration which the services he has rendered the sick and poor fully entitle him to.
These could hardly be construed as vain words from unreliable sources, indeed Marshal de Segur expresses that he is sending the charge of the King.
Third – Although he strenuously denied all these imputations, yet he has been obliged to confess a variety of circumstances which sufficiently indicate his guilt.
Considering that he was faced with one of the most terrifying tormentors known to man, it is hardly surprising that Cagliostro at first denied and then confessed his guilt. He knew that the outcome of his trial had already been decided before his arrest, and that it was improbable, and painfully realistic, that whatever he made admission to or further confessed would have made any difference to his fate.
CONDEMNED TO OBSCURITY
On 7 April 1791, Cagliostro’s fate was sealed and a sentence of death was passed upon him. However, this death sentence was almost immediately commuted by Pope Pius himself, by the intervention of a mysterious visitor to the Vatican. According to one account,19 a man arrived asking to speak with the Pope; not giving his name but merely uttering a word, he was immediately taken to the pontiff’s rooms. After a few moments of discussion, the stranger left. Shortly after, Pope Pius instructed his officials to commute Cagliostro’s sentence to life imprisonment. This in itself was ultimately a death sentence for Cagliostro, for he would never again see the outside world nor have any public communication with it.
As it was feared Cagliostro would be liberated from Rome, he was escorted by armed guard under the cover of darkness to the Papal State prison of San Leo in Urbino, Tuscany. His faithless wife was still languishing within the walls of the Convent of Santa Appolonia, as her testimonies had left a nasty taste in the Inquisitors’ mouths; they deemed that perhaps she was not the kind of woman safe to be left to her own devices and instead should be under the watchful eye of the sisters for the rest of her days.
On arriving in Urbino, it was up to the legate, Cardinal Doria, and the governor of the prison, Sempronio Semproni, to make sure that the Count was securely contained for the rest of his natural life. Doria had brushed up on Cagliostro’s life by reading the Inquisition’s publication of his life and trial, which had only recently been published and a copy rushed to the Cardinal’s side. Doria had been warned that Cagliostro was wily and that extreme caution was to be exercised at all times. He was entrusted to send weekly reports of Cagliostro’s behaviour and decorum to Pope Pius, who had been a keen witness and attendee of the interrogations and trial.
Wary of attempts by Cagliostro’s followers to ambush the party, strict instructions were given to the guards and eventually they reached the gate to the ancient village of San Leo unscathed. It was here that the Count would have caught the first glimpse of what was soon to be his last residence. Built upon a sheer scarp of rock, the gloomy fortress cast a fearsome silhouette above the village. The only way to approach the awesome pile was via a treacherous stairway cut into the rock. Although the fortress was formidable, boasting walls 7 feet thick and crammed with cells, it was only guarded by a small garrison of 20 men, which was a reasonable amount to guard 8 prisoners but what about the possibility of invaders? Combine that with the need for some serious repairs to be carried out on the old building and it posed something of a security risk. Now that the castle was due to hold a prisoner of Cagliostro’s calibre, would security be tight enough to deal with the rumoured plots to release him?
A suitable cell had been arranged for Cagliostro to inhabit by the legate, Doria. It was called the ‘Pozzetto’, also known as the ‘cell of the well’ and had previously been the home of several other ‘high risk’ inmates. It had originally held drinking water and was effectively a 9-feet-square hole that had been hacked out of the mountain, now converted into a part of the castle tower. The view of San Leo’s parish church, from a tiny triple-barred window, was hampered by a platform which allowed two sentries to be positioned at all times. The cell had no door and the prisoner had to be lowered in via the same trapdoor that was used to serve food and water. It was a claustrophobic and unpleasant habitat but for the moment it was not to be Cagliostro’s.
He was, instead, placed at the opposite end of the prison in the ‘treasury cell’. This change of plan infuriated Doria as he had wanted Cagliostro incarcerated within the bowels of the castle, but he was told by the Governor’s stand-in that the Pozzetto was in need of repair and that the Count would be safer away from any contact with the outside world in his lofty position high up in the uppermost point of the fortress. The walls of this cell were reputed to be 11 feet thick and would insulate Cagliostro from hearing any chatter from the other prisoners, effectively isolating him completely from human contact aside from his daily confessional.
The treasury cell, however, was not much more pleasant than the current state of the Pozzetto; cold, damp and infested with vermin, it did not bode well for the future health of Cagliostro. It was, strangely, within the Church’s interest to keep Cagliostro alive and well, mainly because the outrage of his sentence was still reverberating around Europe and it would cast a distinctly unpleasant shadow over the Holy Office should he die unrepentant in their ‘care’. Luckily for Doria, when the governor of the prison returned, repairs were carried out on the Pozzetto and, by direct instruction, a special grille was fixed over the window to discourage Cagliostro from talking to the sentries positioned outside.
Security needed to be tightened within the prison and this too was implemented: no longer would prisoners be allowed to buy their own food or, bizarrely enough, be permitted to eat at the governor’s table! Legate Doria made provisions for new guards to be sent and at all times were they warned to keep a vigilant eye upon their celebrated prisoner; he was not to be trusted under any circumstance. Cagliostro’s entire regime was scrutinized. He was allowed neither shaving implements nor items for writing; he was forbidden to converse with his jailers and they with him, for it was believed that he could seduce anyone with his words.
All ran smoothly for some months; Cagliostro was even reported showing signs of remorse, although this was largely taken with a grain of salt. However, the climate changed somewhat when it came to the attention of Doria that two noblemen from the locality had allegedly been allowed to see and converse with Cagliostro. He became incensed, didn’t the governor know that the Count was a dangerous subversive, with intent to inflame the public with revolutionary ideals and, more importantly, could arrange for an attempt to liberate him from the fortress? This news had unfortunately reached the Vatican and Doria was instructed in no uncertain terms to investigate as soon as possible. Aware that his position as legate was severely at risk, he made inquiries through his network of spies in the village as to the nature of the rumours – were the men merely curious nobles or, more sinisterly, were they admirers of the Count with tenuous links to Revolutionary France, planning an invasion and the liberation of Cagliostro? What had transpired between the Count and these men, could they have passed anything to him, could he have entrusted anything to them?
Just when Doria had doused the flames of panic, a new drama began to unfold. A message reached him from the governor of a neighbouring village that several Frenchmen had passed through. Apparently they had been overheard discussing how they were admirers of the Count di Cagliostro and were disgusted at his unjust imprisonment. They hinted that he would soon be free to enjoy the pleasures of French wine and tobacco. Doria panicked and immediately contacted Governor Semproni, admonishing him to tighten security and surveillance immediately at the castle in anticipation of a suspected attack by revolutionaries. Semproni’s response was not quite what he expected; the governor lightly brushed off the seriousness by replying that he’d have the men locked up swiftly should they indeed show their faces. Doria, close to exploding, forwarded the letter he had received warning that a surprise attack by French revolutionaries in the newly invented hot-air balloons was imminent. Poor Semproni was flabbergasted, this kind of thing was the theme of storybooks – Frenchmen in flying balloons … in Urbino! Completely exasperated by the whole notion, but terrified of retribution from his superiors, Semproni ordered the guards to be on the alert from aerial terrorists at all times. Needless to say, this remarkable story filtered from the castle to the village and farther afield to end up as sensationalist headlines throughout Europe’s press. ‘Read all about it! Jacobin revolutionaries attempt air balloon rescue of Count Cagliostro!’
With relief that nothing further transpired, Governor Semproni made the sensible decision to move Cagliostro to the newly repaired Pozzetto in the depths of the castle. He now felt suitably certain that any attempt at release would be nigh on impossible. However, during the transference of the prisoner from the treasury cell to cell-in-the-well, it was discovered that Cagliostro had various items hidden within his clothes. Cleverly secreted they found a tiny almanac and a pen he had ingeniously manufactured from mattress straw. Using candle black that had fallen into the cell and his own urine, Cagliostro had created a usable ink with which to embellish his book. This went entirely against the strict instructions from the Vatican that he must never be allowed access to writing materials! It makes one wonder exactly what could have exchanged hands during the meeting between the Count and the infamous nobles – instructions, teachings, and a manuscript perhaps.
Once again, Doria was furious, this was becoming embarrassing and threatening to his credibility and position. He ordered a thorough search of the treasury cell, and was amazed to find further items including a pen hidden in the window frame and a piece of bone, sharpened so that it could be used to extract blood for writing. Doria had to come up with a solution to this dangerous problem, fast. The solution came in the form of Corporal Marini, a jailer, one-time soldier and general thug. He was given the task of bringing Cagliostro into line, mentally and physically. He was ordered to make irregular, unannounced and thorough inspections of the prisoner and his cell.
Within a week or so of Cagliostro’s move to the Pozzetto, courtesy of a peephole made in the trapdoor of the cell, Marini discovered that the Count had already made several hiding places by hollowing out niches in the walls. It is rumoured that in one of the hiding places an eggshell was found containing a mysterious golden liquid (most likely urine for making his ink). From further observation he was seen to tear the wood from his bed to obtain a piece of dowel which he was later seen to be attempting to sharpen. This would have made a perfect implement for him to use upon his jailers. As the bed now needed to be replaced with one that could not be dismantled and the hollowed-out hiding holes replastered, Cagliostro was transferred back to the treasury cell. It was also decided that, due to the continual problems with the prisoner, a shackle and chain would be cemented into the wall of the Pozzetto so that any further attempts at insubordination would be futile.
Admittedly, Cagliostro was not an easy prisoner, but then, being unjustly condemned to life imprisonment would encourage most not to give up without a fight. To irritate the governor further he would make unfeasible and almost ridiculous demands of a physical and spiritual nature – he requested a prayer stool to prevent his knees from getting damp, a wooden crucifix instead of a crudely made papier mâché one, he objected to the face of Christ on that one and wanted it replaced so that he might meditate more piously upon it. He undertook regular daily confession and, to the priests in charge of his repentance and salvation, Cagliostro appeared to be penitent and reforming quite nicely, but Doria believed it was just a devious way of manipulating them and that they should all be wary of his every move.
He was becoming somewhat obsessed with his celebrity prisoner and his letters to the various cardinals reflected this, stating that Cagliostro ‘knows all too well how to … surprise and deceive’. This fear was justified soon after Cagliostro’s return to the Pozzetto, when a metal spike was discovered within the privy hole, fashioned into a perfect stiletto point, with just the nail head as a handle to give a clue to its origin. The instrument was mentioned in another letter from the Ambassador Bottini, who called it a ‘marvel!’ The man was a genius inventor but it was almost too much for Doria – he ordered that the room be almost literally torn apart, every inch to be combed for weapons or other tools. It was official; Cagliostro was seriously undermining Doria and the Governor.
Cagliostro’s subtle war on his tormentors continued – he took up a holy fast, insisting on just water. His confessors were impressed by his seemingly genuine spirituality and penitence; Doria was not convinced and as the Count’s weight dropped off alarmingly he was forced to bring in outside help to attempt to stave off what he thought might be an impending hunger strike. A Dominican priest was brought in and after a lengthy confession Cagliostro decided to return to his normal diet. However, during his confession he had managed to slip a letter written in candle-black ink on a torn scrap of linen to the priest, complaining of the brutal treatment by Marini.
The Count’s backlash against his imprisonment continued – he painted alchemical and Masonic murals on his cell walls, improvising with paint made from rust flakes and urine, and applied with a crude brush or wood stripped from his bed. He made startling prophecies, often shouting through his barred window to the villagers below. His prophecies were so disturbing that even his jailers could not resist repeating them and, needless to say, they reached the ears of Legate Doria. Cagliostro’s uncanny knowledge of the unfolding drama of the Revolution in France was disquieting; where was he gaining information, or was he indeed amazingly psychic? Doria passed on all the information to Rome, particularly one prophecy concerning the possible assassination of the Pope, all the while implying that Cagliostro was a mocking fool verging on the edge of insanity.
Maybe after years of imprisonment, wallowing in betrayal and torn apart from his wife, Cagliostro was beginning to lose his mind. He had earlier implied that he thought Seraphina was in a cell next to his and he had implored the guards to be gentle with her. He would call to her through the walls, telling her of his love for her, how he had forgiven her betrayal. Many of the jailers believed he had lost his mind, even the prison doctor concluded that his misery was genuine. Doria, however, was as convinced as ever that Cagliostro was a fake, his obsessive hatred of him clouding all reason or compassion. The Count’s behaviour became increasingly bizarre and violent; so much so that Doria ordered the governor to have him chained to the cell wall and if this was ineffective, he was to be beaten into submission. Cagliostro’s screams, however, were to be heard in the village below and he was then moved back to the aerial position of the treasury cell so as to quell the disquiet that was growing.
As the Revolutionary armies grew ever closer, Doria’s fears grew ever greater. Cagliostro’s prophecies were unnervingly accurate. Suddenly in the spring of 1794, Doria was relieved of his position. Soon after, the jailers and the governor began to admit defeat with regard to the Count’s behaviour, his priest no longer took his confession due to his impious rages and the guards let him continue with his blasphemous paintings and ravings. Mad or bad, no one could tell for certain, but in the early hours of 26 August 1795, Cagliostro did the Holy Church a favour and suffered a stroke. Still alive but seriously ill, he was offered the last rites in an attempt to ‘save his soul’. It is recorded that he refused all administrations and he died an ‘impenitent man’. After four years, four months and five days of torturous confinement, the divine Cagliostro was dead.
The Vatican released a statement of his demise on 28 August 1795. Even then they could not allow themselves a simple death certificate. They had to drag his name and reputation through the mud one last time – ‘a heretic famous for his wicked ways’. He was mocked for his death by apoplexy (stroke) as punishment for ‘having a hard and impenitent heart’. He was, they stressed, ‘born in distress, lived more distressingly and died very miserably’. The Holy Church received a public supplication for the rehabilitation of his soul and that an ecclesiastical burial be performed but they wrote without pity that they had denied this to him.
He was buried at 11pm in the evening,‘at the top of a mountain … inclined towards the west, about equal distance between two buildings destined for Sentinels known as Il Palazetto and Il Casino on the soil of the Roman Apostolic Curia’.
There are various stories surrounding Cagliostro’s death and burial. A Tuscan diplomat, Luiggi Angiolini wrote:
At last, that same Cagliostro, who made so many believe that he had been a contemporary of Julius Caesar, who reached such fame and so many friends, died from apoplexy, August 26 1795. Semironi had him buried in a wood barn below, whence peasants used to pilfer constantly the Crown property. The crafty chaplain reckoned very justly that the man that inspired the world with such superstitious fear whilst living, would inspire people with the same feelings after his death, and thus keep the thieves at bay …20
Some accounts say that he did not die in San Leo due to reports that the custodians of the Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome (where he was incarcerated during his trial) used to show inquisitive tourists a little square hole where Cagliostro was said to have been confined and died. This is probably more a case of confusion, or merely that the guards may have earned a few lire for the privilege! Others dispute that the Count died at all and that he had escaped from his aerial prison and the Church was forced to spread news of his death and burial. Some say he was strangled by the guards as they feared him and his ‘sorcery’ so much. He had allegedly made two predictions before his death; one concerning the fall of San Leo, which consequently was blown up in 1797, another prophesying the fall of the papacy. Rumours also abound of his immortality due to his imbibing the elixir of life. Seen in the salons of Paris, or living as an immortal in India? We will never know for sure.
There is an unpleasant account that when the Revolutionary armies arrived at San Leo in 1797, General Dombrowski demanded to know where the great Cagliostro was held. Informed of his death, he ordered the remains to be dug up and the skull of the Count to be filled with wine so that they may toast his memory!
Bottini asked, as did many others, when Cagliostro was condemned and confined to his prison:
Why, if he really possessed the powers claimed, has he not indeed vanished from his jailers, and thus escaped the degrading punishment altogether?
Why indeed? Theosophist Helena Blavatsky retorted to the same question:
We have heard of another prisoner, greater in every respect than Cagliostro ever claimed to be. Of that prisoner too, it was said in mocking tones ‘He saved others; himself he cannot save … let him now come down from the cross, and we will believe’ … How long shall charitable people build the biographies of living and ruin reputations of the dead …!
Poor Cagliostro! He died a broken man, ravaged by torture and misery, estranged from his beloved wife who, unbeknown to him, went insane in her convent prison and died in either 1794 or 1796 – the dates are unknown. Neither the Count’s nor the Countess’s bodies have ever been publicly found; neither of them has been laid to rest with respect or love. Maybe one day that will be possible, maybe one day the Church will allow that.
Here follows an account given by an official of Napoleon regarding Cagliostro’s fate:
The galleries … which have been cut out of the solid rock, were divided into cells, and old dried-up cisterns had been converted into dungeons for the worst criminals, and further surrounded by high walls, so that the only possible egress, if escape was attempted, would be by a staircase cut in the rock and guarded night and day by sentinels.
It was in one of these cisterns that the celebrated Cagliostro was interred in 1791. In recommending the Pope to commute the sentence of death, which the Inquisition had passed upon him, into perpetual imprisonment, the Holy Tribunal took care that the commutation should be equivalent to the death penalty. His only communication with mankind was when his jailers raised the trap to let food down to him. Here he languished for three years without air, movement, or intercourse with his fellow creatures. During the last months of his life his condition excited the pity of the governor, who had him removed from this dungeon to a cell on the level with the ground, where the curious, who obtain permission to visit the prison, may read on the walls various inscriptions and sentences traced there by the unhappy alchemist. The last bears the date of the 6th of March 1795.