There lived in 1858, an old woman known by the name of Madeline, who inhabited a miserable attic in Paris, the ceiling of which was covered with cabalistic and astrological emblems. She pretended to divine the future and tell fortunes. She was the daughter of Cagliostro and a Jewess of Lyons. (_Le Figaro_, 13 mai, 1858.) {77} In the Inquisition biography some curious letters to Cagliostro from his masonic correspondents in France are published. They evidence the profound respect, one might almost say blind worship, with which he was regarded by his disciples. The masonic lodge at Rome was disrupted shortly after Cagliostro’s arrest. The Sbirri of the Holy Office pounced down upon it, but the birds had flown, taking with them their most important papers. Father Marcellus says that among the members of this Roman lodge were an Englishman and an American. And so endeth the career of Cagliostro, one of the most romantic of history. His condemnation as a sorcerer and freemason has invested him with “the halo of a religious martyr, of which perhaps no one was less deserving.” Among his effects the Inquisition found a peculiar seal, upon which the mysterious letters “L. P. D.” were engraved. These letters were supposed to stand for the Latin sentence, _Lilia pedibus destrue_, which rendered into the vulgar tongue signifies, “Tread the lilies under foot.” The fleur-de-lys was the heraldic device of the Bourbon Kings of France, hence this trampling upon the lily alluded to the stamping out of the French monarchy by the freemasons. However, it is more than probable that the initials, arranged as follows, L. D. P., stood for _Libertè de Penser_—“Freedom of thought”—which is a motto of Scottish Rite Masonry. This was the opinion of General Albert Pike, 33d degree, than whom no greater masonic student ever lived.