claim to have lived for hundreds of years was, by some, thoroughly believed. He ascribed his immortality to his own Elixir, and his comparatively youthful appearance to his “Water of Beauty,” his Countess readily assisting him by speaking of her son, a Colonel in the Dutch service, fifty years old, while she appeared scarcely more than twenty.
At length, in Rome, he and the Countess fell into the clutches of the Holy Office; and both having been tried for their manifold offences against the Church, were found guilty, and, in spite of their contrition and eager confessions, immured for life; the Count within the walls of the Castle of Sante Leone, in the Duchy of Urbino, where, after eight years imprisonment, he died in 1795, and the Countess in a suburban convent, where she died some time after.
The portraits of Cagliostro, of which a number are extant, are pictures of a strong-built, bull-necked, fat, gross man, with a snub nose, a vulgar face, a look of sensuality and low hypocritical cunning.
The celebrated story of “The Diamond Necklace,” in which Cagliostro, Marie Antoinette, the Cardinal de Rohan, and others were mixed in such a hodge-podge of rascality and folly, must form a narrative by itself.
