Note 133 — XVII. 1781–1785. CHARLATAN COUNT CAGLIOSTRO.

“Mémoires du Comte Beugnot,” vol. i. p. 59, et seq.

Cagliostro laid claim to being possessed of the power not only of transmuting metals and curing all diseases, but of calling up spirits from the other world. His evocations were certainly not without an element of art. On one occasion the spirit the company desired to commune with was that of D’Alembert, and from notes furnished by an eye-witness, Lady Mantz, the actor Fleury gives the following account of the ceremony in his Mémoires:—

“The spectators or, as Cagliostro preferred to call them, guests sat in arm-chairs along the wall on the east side of the apartment. Before these chairs was drawn an iron chain,” lest some foolish person should be impelled by curiosity to rush upon destruction. “On the other side was placed the chair intended for the reception of the apparition. The Grand Koptha—the name assumed by Cagliostro on such occasions—chose the unusual hour of 3 a.m. for his evocations. Shortly before that time a voice was heard to order the removal from the scene of cats, dogs, horses, birds, and all reptiles, should any be near. Then came a command that none but free men should remain in the apartment; the servants were accordingly dismissed. A deep silence followed, and the lights were suddenly extinguished. The same voice, now assuming a louder and more authoritative tone, requested the guests to shake the iron chain; they obeyed, and an indescribable thrill ran through their frames. The clock at length struck three—slowly, and with a prolonged vibration of the bell. At each stroke a flash, as sudden and transitory as lightning, illumined the apartment, and the words ‘Philosophy,’ ‘Nature,’ and ‘Truth’ successively appeared in legible characters above the empty arm chair. The last word was more brilliant than the others. The lustres were suddenly relighted, how no one could tell. Stifled cries were heard as from a man whose mouth was gagged—a noise like that of a man struggling to break loose from persons detaining him;—and Cagliostro appeared.

“The Grand Koptha wore a costume to which it would be difficult to find anything analogous. Flowing drapery set off his figure to advantage, and the glow of enthusiasm in his face made him look really handsome. He delivered a short but comprehensive address, commenting on the words just seen over the chair. Then, turning successively to the four cardinal points, he uttered some cabalistic words, which returned as if from a distant echo. The lights having been extinguished, he commanded the guests again to shake the chain, and as they did so the strange feeling previously alluded to was renewed. The outline of the arm-chair now became gradually perceptible in the darkness, as though the lines had been traced on a black ground with phosphorus. The next moment, and as if by the same process, a winding sheet could be seen, with two fleshless hands resting upon the arm of the chair. The winding sheet, slowly opening, discovered an emaciated form; a short breathing was heard, and two brilliant piercing eyes were fixed upon the spectators.”

The illustrious philosopher, the author of the Preface to the “Encyclopédie,” had been called from the dead. He would answer questions put to him, but Cagliostro alone was privileged to hear him speak. “And what questions were put to him?” asked Fleury of Lady Mantz. “He was asked whether he had seen the other world.” “And what did he say?” “Ah, Monsieur Fleury, it was a terrible reply, especially to one who, like me, looks forward to a better future. He said, ‘There is no other world.’” “And did no one reply?” “Reply! who could venture to reply to the ghost of M. d’Alembert, returned from—ah, whence?” “That is precisely the thing. You should have said, ‘M. d’Alembert, if there is no other world, where may you happen to come from now?’”