Torrini relates his Life--Treachery of Chevalier Pinetti--A
Conjurer through Malice--A Race between two Magicians--Death of
Pinetti--Exhibits before Pius VII.--The Cardinal’s
Chronometer--Twelve Hundred Francs spent on a Trick--Antonio and
Antonia--The most bitter of Mystifications--Constantinople.
My name is Edmond de Grisy, and that of Torrini belongs to Antonio, my
brother-in-law. That worthy young man, whom you wrongfully took for my
servant, has been good enough to follow me in my evil fortune, and help
me in my performances. You must have seen, though, by the way I treat
him, that while leaving to him the toil better suited for his age than
mine, I regard him as my equal, and consider him my best friend--at
least I should have called him so before knowing you--but now, one of my
best friends.
My father, the Count de Grisy, resided on his property in Languedoc, the
sole resource left him of a once large fortune, which circumstances had
sadly diminished. Devoted to Louis XVI., and one of his most faithful
servants, on the day of danger he offered his body as a rampart for his
sovereign, and was killed at the storming of the Tuilleries on the 18th
of August.
I was at that time in Paris, and, profiting by the disorders in the
capital, I was enabled to pass the barriers, and reach our small family
domain. There I dug up a hundred louis my father had concealed for any
unforseen accident; to this money I added some jewels left by my
mother, and with these modest resources proceeded to Florence.
The value of my entire property was 5000 francs. On the interest of this
sum I could not live; hence I was obliged to seek some profession to
support me. I soon formed my decision: taking advantage of the excellent
education I had received, I devoted myself to the study of medicine.
Four years later I took my degree as doctor; I was then twenty-seven.
I established myself at Florence, where I hoped to form a connexion.
Unfortunately for me, in this town, with its gentle climate and
reinvigorating sun, the number of physicians was greater than that of
the patients, and my new profession was a perfect sinecure.
I have told you how Zilbermann’s death compelled me to quit the capital
of Tuscany, and I established myself at Naples. More fortunate than at
Florence, immediately on my arrival I was called in to a patient whose
illness had defied the skill of the first Italian physicians. He was a
young man, of very high family; his recovery gained me great renown, and
I soon took my place among the best Neapolitan physicians. This success,
and the fashion I gained by it, opened to me the doors of all the
salons, and my name, aided by the manners of a gentleman brought up at
the court of Louis XVI., rendered me indispensable at all soirées and
festivals.
What a happy and calm existence I might still be enjoying had not
destiny, jealous of my happiness, destroyed my future prospects of
felicity by hurling me into the vivid and ardent emotions of an artistic
life!
The carnival of 1796 had just commenced. At that time one man was the
popular idol of the Italians; nothing was spoken of but the marvels
achieved by Chevalier Pinetti. This celebrated conjurer came to Naples,
and the whole city attended his interesting performances. As I was madly
attached to this sort of spectacle, I spent every evening at the
theatre, trying to guess the chevalier’s tricks, and unfortunately for
myself, I discovered the key to many of them.
But I did not stop here; I also wished to perform them before a few
friends: success stimulated me, and made me desirous of increasing my
repertoire. At length I could perform all Pinetti’s tricks. The
chevalier was eclipsed; nothing was spoken of but my skill and address;
and every one besought a performance from me. But I did not accede to
all these requests, for I was chary in displaying my talent, hoping thus
to increase its value.
My privileged spectators were only the more enthusiastic, and asserted
that I equalled Pinetti, if I did not surpass him.
The public is so happy, my dear lad (Torrini said, with a look of
melancholy regret), when it can oppose some rising talent to any artist
in renown. It seems as if this sovereign dispenser of fashion and favor
takes a malicious pleasure in reminding the man it adores that every
reputation is fragile, and that the idol of to-day may be shattered
to-morrow.
My vanity forebade my thinking of this. I believed in the sincerity of
the praise bestowed on me; and I, the earnest student, the clever
doctor, was proud of my futile success.
Pinetti, far from seeming jealous of my triumph, evinced a desire to
form my acquaintance, and even came to call upon me. He might have been
about forty-six years of age at this time, but his elegant toilet made
him appear much younger. There was something distinguished in his face,
though the features were common-place and irregular, and his manners
were excellent. Still, by an inexplicable want of judgment, he used,
when performing, to wear a brilliant general’s uniform, on which
numerous decorations glistened.
This peculiarity, which bordered too much on the charlatan, ought to
have enlightened me as to the man’s moral value; but my passion for
conjuring rendered me blind. We met like old friends, and our intimacy
was almost instantaneous. Pinetti was most affable, talked about his
secrets unreservedly, and even offered to take me to the theatre and
show me his stage arrangements. I accepted the offer with the greatest
readiness, and we entered his richly ornamented carriage.
From that moment the chevalier treated me with the utmost familiarity.
In any other this would have wounded my pride, or at least aroused my
suspicion, and I should have been on my guard. On the contrary, I was
enchanted with Pinetti, for, by his unbounded luxury, he had gained such
consideration, that the noblest young gentlemen in the city were proud
of his friendship. Why, then, should I be more haughty than they? In a
few days we had become almost inseparable friends, only parting at the
time of our mutual performances.
One evening, after one of my private exhibitions, I proceeded to sup as
usual with Pinetti, my head still a-glow with the compliments I had
received. I found him alone. On seeing me enter, the chevalier ran up to
me, embraced me affectionately, and asked how my performance had gone
off. I did not hide my success from him.
“Ah! my friend,” he said, “that does not surprise me; you are
incomparable: indeed, I should not be paying you a forced compliment if
I said you might challenge the most skillful among us.”
And during the whole supper, despite my efforts to stop him, he would
only speak of my skill and address. Though I tried to decline his
compliments, the chevalier seemed so sincere, that I ended by accepting
them. In fact, I was so convinced of their truth, that I began to pay
myself some compliments; for how could I believe it was all a trick to
make a fool of me? When Pinetti saw I had arrived at this stage, and
that the champagne had turned my head, he said:
“Do you know, my dear count, that you could offer the Neapolitans a
surprise to-morrow, worth its weight in gold for the poor?”
“How?” I asked.
“Suppose, my dear friend, you take my place in a performance I am going
to give on behalf of the poor. We will put your name in the bills
instead of mine, and it will be regarded as a noble and honorable
understanding between two artists. One representation the less will not
injure my reputation, while it will cover you with glory; I shall thus
have the double satisfaction of helping the unfortunate, and displaying
my best friend’s talent to advantage.”
This proposal so startled me, that I rose from the table, as if fearing
to hear more. But Pinetti was gifted with such persuasive eloquence, and
he seemed to promise himself so much pleasure from my future triumph,
that at length I ended by yielding all he asked.
“That is right,” Pinetti said to me; “dismiss such want of confidence in
yourself, which could be hardly pardoned in a schoolboy. Now, matters
settled so far, we have no time to lose. Let us draw up the bill: choose
among my tricks those you prefer, and, as for the preparations trust to
me: I will take care all is in order.”
The greater number of Pinetti’s tricks were performed by the help of
accomplices, who brought to the theatre various objects of which the
conjurer had doubles. This singularly facilitated the pretended marvels,
and I had no doubt of success.
We soon drew up the bill, at the top of which I wrote my name with great
emotion; then came a list of the tricks I proposed to do. Just as we
finished this, the usual guests entered the room, offering excuses more
or less specious to explain their delay. Still their tardy appearance
aroused no suspicion in my mind; for Pinetti’s was open all hours of the
night, and his door was only closed from daybreak till two P. M., the
time he devoted to sleep and dress.
As soon as the new arrivers heard of my resolution, they noisily
congratulated me, and promised to support me by their hearty applause.
Not that I wanted it, they added, for my performance would create an
extraordinary enthusiasm. Pinetti gave one of his servants the bill,
telling him to order the printer to have it posted all over the city
before daybreak.
An impulse made me stretch out my hand to take back the paper, but
Pinetti checked me with a laugh.
“Come, my dear friend,” he said, “do not try to fly an assured triumph,
and to-morrow at this hour we shall all be toasting your success.”
All the visitors joined in chorus, and they drank in anticipation of my
approaching triumph. A few glasses of champagne dispelled my hesitation
and scruples.
I returned home very late, and went to bed without thinking of what had
occurred. At two the next afternoon I was still asleep, when I was
aroused by Pinetti’s voice.
“Get up, Edmond!” he shouted through the door. “Up, man! we have no time
to lose: the great day has arrived. Open the door: I have a thousand
things to say to you.”
I hastened to open.
“Ah! my dear count,” he said, “allow me to congratulate you on your good
fortune. Your name is in every mouth: the whole theatre is taken; the
last tickets are being positively fought for; the king and the royal
family will do you the honor of being present; we have just been
informed of the fact.”
At these words the whole affair flashed across my mind: a cold
perspiration stood on my forehead: the terror that assails every novice
rendered me dizzy. In my confusion I sat down on the foot of my bed.
“Do not reckon on me, chevalier,” I said, with firmness. “Whatever may
happen, I will not perform.”
“What! you will not perform?” my perfidious friend said, affecting the
most perfect tranquility; “but my good fellow, you cannot be thinking of
what you are saying. There is no possibility of drawing back: the bills
are put up, and it is your duty to keep the engagement you have made.
Besides, you should remember this performance is for the poor, who have
already begun to bless you, and you cannot abandon them, while a refusal
would be an insult to the king. Come, come,” he added, “summon up your
courage, my dear friend. Meet me at the theatre at four: we will have a
rehearsal, which I consider useless, but it may restore your pluck. Till
then, good-by!”
So soon as I was left to myself, I remained for nearly an hour absorbed
in thought, trying in vain to elude the performance. An insurmountable
barrier ever prevented escape: the king, the poor, the entire
city--all, in short, rendered it an imperious duty to keep my rash
promise. At length I began to think there was no serious difficulty
about the performance, for a great number of the tricks, as I have
already said, being performed by the help of friends, these took the
chief labor on themselves. Encouraged by this idea, I gradually regained
my courage, and at four o’clock joined Pinetti at the theatre with a
degree of assurance that surprised even him.
As the performance did not begin till eight, I had ample time to make my
preparations, and I employed it so well, that, when the moment arrived
to appear on the stage, my foolish fears were completely dissipated, and
I presented myself before the public with sufficient coolness for a
novice.
The theatre was crowded. The king and his family, seated in a stage box,
appeared to regard me with sympathizing glances; for his majesty was
probably aware of my being a French émigré.
I boldly commenced my performance with a trick which must eminently
excite the imagination of the spectators. I had to borrow a ring, place
it in a pistol, and fire through a window opening from the stage into
the sea that bathed the theatre-walls. This done, I would open a box,
previously examined, closed, and sealed by the audience, and in it would
be found an enormous fish bearing the ring in its mouth.
Full of confidence in the success of the trick, I proceeded towards the
pit to borrow a ring. Of twenty offered me I selected one belonging to
an accomplice of Pinetti’s, and begged him to place it with his own
hands in the barrel of the pistol I handed to him. Pinetti had told me
that his friend would use for this purpose a copper ring, which would
be sacrificed, and that I should return him a gold one in its place.
The spectator obeyed me. I then opened the window and fired the pistol.
Like the soldier on the battle-field, the smell of powder excited me; I
felt full of fun and gaiety, and ventured on a few jests, which pleased
the audience. Taking advantage of the general hilarity, I seized my
magic wand and traced my cabalistic circles round the box. At length I
broke the seals and triumphantly produced the fish, which I carried to
the owner of the ring, that he might take it out of the fish’s mouth.
If the accomplice play his part well, he must evince the greatest
stupefaction, and, indeed, the gentleman, on receiving the ring, began
looking around him, and his face grew very long. Proud of my success, I
went back on the stage and bowed in reply to the applause I received.
Ah, my dear Robert! this triumph lasted but a short time, and became to
me the prelude of a terrible mystification.
I was proceeding to another trick, when I saw my spectator gesticulating
to his neighbors, and then turning to me as if wishing to address me. I
fancied he was going on with the farce to dispel any suspicion of
collusion; still I thought he went too far. What was my surprise, then,
when the man rose and said:
“Excuse me, sir, but it seems as if your trick is not over, since you
have given me a copper ring set with paste instead of my diamond
solitaire.”
As a mistake seemed to me impossible, I turned on my heel and commenced
my preparations for the next trick.
“Sir,” my obstinate spectator again took the word, “will you have the
goodness to reply to my question? If the end of your trick be a jest, I
acknowledge it as such, and you can return me my ring presently. If it
be not so, I cannot accept the horrible substitute you have handed me.”
Every one was silent: none knew the meaning of this protest, though many
fancied it was on ordinary mystification, which would end in still
greater glory for the performer. The claimant, the public, and myself
found ourselves in the same state of uncertainty; it was an enigma which
I alone could solve--and I did not know the word.
Hoping, however, to escape from a position as critical as it was
ridiculous, I walked up to my pitiless creditor, and, on looking at the
ring I had given him, I was startled at finding it was really coarsely
gilt copper. “Could the spectator to whom I applied have been no
accomplice?” I thought. “Could Pinetti desire to betray me?” This
supposition appeared to me so hateful that I rejected it, preferring to
attribute the fatal mistake to chance. But what should I do or say? My
head was all on fire.
In my despair, I was about to offer the public some explanation of this
untoward accident, when an inspiration temporarily relieved me from my
embarrassment.
“Do you still believe, sir,” I said to the plaintiff, after assuming an
extreme degree of calmness, “that your ring has been changed into copper
while passing through my hands?”
“Yes, sir; and, besides, the one you have returned me does not in the
slightest degree resemble mine in shape.”
“Very good, sir,” I continued, boldly; “that is the real marvel of the
trick; that ring will insensibly assume its old form on your finger, and
by to-morrow morning you will see it is the one you lent me. That is
what we term in the language of the cabala the ‘imperceptible
transformation.’”
This reply gained me time. I intended to see the claimant when the
performance was over, pay him the price of the ring, whatever it might
be, and beg him to keep my secret. After this happy escape I took up a
pack of cards and continued my performance, and as the accomplices had
nothing to do in this trick, I felt sure of success. Approaching the
royal box, I begged his majesty to do me the honor of drawing a card. He
did so very affably; but to my horror, the king had no sooner looked at
the card he had drawn, than he threw it angrily on the stage, with marks
of most profound dissatisfaction.
The blow dealt me this time was too direct for me to attempt parrying it
or turning it aside. But I was anxious to know the meaning of such a
humiliating affront, so I picked up the card. Imagine, my dear boy, the
full extent of my despair when I read a coarse insult to his majesty,
written in a hand I could not mistake. I attempted to stammer some
excuse, but by a gesture the king disdainfully commanded silence.
Oh, I cannot describe to you all that then passed in my mind, for a
dizziness attacked my brain, and I felt as if I were going mad.
I had, at length, obtained a proof of Pinetti’s perfidy. He had
determined on covering me with disgrace and ridicule, and I had fallen
into the infamous snare he had so treacherously laid for me. This idea
restored my wild energy: I was seized by a ferocious desire for revenge,
and I rushed to the side scene, where my enemy should be stationed. I
meant to seize him by the collar, drag him on the stage like a
malefactor, and force him to demand pardon.
But the juggler was no longer there. I ran in every direction like a
maniac, but wherever I might turn, cries, hisses, and shouts pursued
me, and distracted my brain. At length, bowed down by the weight of such
intense emotions, I fainted.
For a week I remained in a raging fever, incessantly yelling for revenge
on Pinetti. And I did not know all then.
I learned afterwards that this unworthy man, this false friend, had
emerged from his hiding-place on my fainting. He had gone on the stage
at the request of some of his accomplices, and continued the
performance, to the great satisfaction of the entire audience.
Thus, then, all this friendship--all these protestations of
devotion--were only a farce--a very juggling trick. Pinetti had never
felt the slightest affection for me; his flattery was only meant to draw
me into the trap he had laid for my vanity, and he wished to destroy by
a public humiliation a rival who annoyed him.
He was perfectly successful in this respect, for from that day my most
intimate friends, fearing probably, that the ridicule I endured might be
reflected on them, suddenly turned their backs on me. This desertion
affected me deeply, but I had too much pride to beg the renewal of such
passing friendship, and I resolved on quitting Naples immediately.
Besides, I was planning a scheme of vengeance, for which solitude was
necessary.
Pinetti, like the coward he was, had fled after the atrocious insult he
had offered me. To have challenged him would be doing him too much
honor, so I vowed to fight him with his own weapons, and humiliate the
shameful traitor in my turn.
This was the plan I drew up:
I determined to devote myself ardently to sleight-of-hand, and study
thoroughly an art of which I as yet knew only the first principles.
Then, when quite confident in myself--when I had added many new tricks
to Pinetti’s repertoire--I would pursue my enemy, enter every town
before him, and continually crush him by my superiority.
Full of this idea, I sold everything I possessed, and took refuge in the
country, where, completely retired from the world, I prepared my plans
for vengeance. I cannot describe to you, my friend, what patience I
devoted and how I toiled during the six months my voluntary retreat
lasted; but I was more than compensated for it, as my success was
complete. I gained a degree of skill to which I had never dared to
pretend: Pinetti was no longer my master, and I became his rival.
Not satisfied with these results, I intended also to eclipse him by the
richness of my stage. I, therefore, ordered apparatus of unknown
brilliancy in those days, spending in this every farthing I possessed.
With what delight did I regard these glittering instruments, each of
which seemed to me a weapon capable of inflicting mortal wounds on my
adversary’s vanity. How proudly my heart beat at the thought of the
contest I would commence with him!
Henceforth, it would be a duel of skill between Pinetti and myself, but
a mortal duel; one of us must remain on the ground, and I had reason to
hope that I should be the victor in the struggle.
Before commencing my tour I made some inquiries about my rival, and
learned that, after traversing Southern Italy, he had just left Lucca,
_en route_ for Bologna. I learned, too, that, on leaving that city, he
intended to visit Modena, Parma and Piacenza.
Without loss of time I set out for Modena, in order to precede him
there, and thus prevent him performing. Enormous bills announced the
representations of “THE COUNT DE GRISY, THE FRENCH ARTIST,” and my
programme was most attractive, for it contained all Pinetti’s tricks.
The papers had puffed the latter so extravagantly for some time past,
that I felt sure my performance would be gladly witnessed.
In fact, my room was taken by storm, as eagerly as on my disastrous
performance at Naples; but this time the result was very different. The
improvements I had introduced in my rival’s tricks, and the great skill
I displayed in performing them, gained me a unanimous verdict.
From this time my success was insured, and the following performances
raised my name above that of all the most fashionable magicians of the
day. According to the plan I had laid down, I left Modena when I heard
of Pinetti’s approach, and went to Parma. My rival, full of faith in his
merits, and not believing in my success, took the theatre I had just
left. But he began to be bitterly undeceived; the whole city was
satiated with the style of amusement he announced; no one responded to
his appeal, and, for the first time, the success to which he was
accustomed slipped from his grasp.
Chevalier Pinetti, who had so long held undivided sway, was not the man
to yield to a person he called a novice. He had guessed my plans, and,
far from awaiting the attack, he acted on the offensive, and came to
Parma, where he opened a room exactly opposite mine. But this town was
lost to him like the last: he had the misery of seeing my theatre
continually filled, while his was quite deserted.
I must tell you, too, my friend, that all the money I netted only
covered my luxurious outlay. What did I care for gold and silver? I only
dreamed of revenge, and to satisfy that feeling I squandered my money. I
wished, above all, to pale that star which had formerly eclipsed me. I
displayed regal pomp in my performances; the theatre and its approaches
were literally covered with tapestry and flowers, while the house and
the stage, glistening with light, presented to the dazzled eyes of the
audience numerous escutcheons, bearing compliments to the ladies, who
were thus quite gained over to the side of the gallant Count de Grisy.
In this way I crushed Pinetti, although he did all in his power to offer
me a vigorous resistance. But what could his tinsel and old-fashioned
ornaments avail against what I may fairly term my elegance and
distinguished manners?
Piacenza, Cremona, Mantua, Vicenza, Padua, and Venice, were witnesses of
our desperate struggle, and, despite his rage and despair, the arrogant
Pinetti was obliged to endure my superiority, if he did not recognize
it. Abandoned by even his most zealous admirers, he determined to quit
the field, and proceeded towards Russia. Some slight success partly
consoled his late defeats, but, as if Fortune were determined on making
him repay the favors she had so long lavished on him, a tedious and
painful illness exhausted his strength as well as his slight savings.
Reduced to a state of abject misery, he died at the village of
Bartitchoff, in Volhynia, at the house of a nobleman, who sheltered him
from compassion.
Pinetti once gone, my revenge was satiated, and, being master of the
battle-field, I might have abandoned a profession ill fitted for my
birth. But my medical connexion was broken up, and, on the other hand, I
yielded to a motive which you will appreciate some day; when a man has
once tasted the intoxication produced by the applause of the public, it
is very difficult to renounce it; with my will or against, I must
continue my profession as conjurer.
I therefore determined on profiting by the reputation I had gained, and
proceeded to Rome, as a brilliant termination to my Italian
representations. Pinetti had never dared to enter that city, less
through distrust of himself, than through fear of the Inquisition, of
which he could only speak with terror. The chevalier was extremely
prudent whenever he was personally concerned: he feared being treated
like a sorcerer, and ending his days in an auto da fè. More than once he
had bid me take warning by the unhappy Cagliostro, who was condemned to
death, and only owed to the clemency of the Pope the commutation of the
penalty into perpetual imprisonment.
Confiding in the intelligence of Pius VII., and, besides, having no
pretensions to the necromancy Pinetti affected, nor to the charlatanism
of Cagliostro, I proceeded to the capital of the Christian world, where
my performances created a great sensation. His Holiness himself, on
hearing of me, did me the signal honor of requesting a performance, at
which I was advised all the dignitaries of the Church would form my
audience.
You can fancy, my lad, with what eagerness I acquiesced in his wish, and
what care I devoted to my preparations. After selecting all my best
tricks, I ransacked my brains to invent one worthy of my illustrious
spectators. But I had no need to search long, for chance, that most
ingenious of inventors, came to my aid.
On the day prior to the performance I was in the shop of one of the
first watchmakers of Rome, when a servant came in to ask if his eminence
the Cardinal de ----‘s watch was repaired.
“It will not be ready till this evening,” the watchmaker replied; “and I
will do myself the honor of carrying it to your master myself.”
When the servant had retired, the tradesman said to me:
“This is a handsome and capital watch. The cardinal to whom it belongs
values it at more than 10,000 fr.; for, as he ordered it himself of the
celebrated Brèguet, he fancies it must be unique of its kind. Strangely
enough, though, only two days ago, a young scamp belonging to this city
offered me a precisely similar watch, made by the same artist for 1000
fr.”
While the watchmaker was talking to me, I had already formed a plan.
“Do you think,” I said to him, “that this person is still inclined to
dispose of his watch?”
“Certainly,” the watchmaker replied. “This young prodigal, who has spent
all his fortune, is now reduced to sell his family jewels: hence the
1000 fr. will be welcome.”
“Is he to be found?”
“Nothing easier: in a gambling-house he never quits.”
“Well, then, sir, I am anxious to purchase the watch, but it must be
to-day. Have the kindness, then, to buy it for me. After that, you will
engrave on it his eminence’s arms, so that the two watches may be
perfectly similar, and on your discretion the profit you make by the
transaction will depend.”
The watchmaker knew me, and probably suspected the use I intended to
make of the watch; but he was assured of my discretion, as the honor of
my success would depend on it. Hence he said:
“I only require a quarter of an hour to go to the gambling-house, and I
am confident your offer will be accepted.”
The quarter of an hour had not elapsed ere my negotiator returned with
the chronometer in his hand.
“Here it is!” he said, with an air of triumph. “My man received me like
an envoy from Providence, and gave me the watch without even counting
the money. To-night all will be ready.”
In fact, that same evening the watchmaker brought me the two
chronometers, and handed me one. On comparing them, it was impossible to
detect the slightest difference. It cost me dear, but I was now certain
of performing a trick which must produce a decided effect.
The next day I proceeded to the Pontiff’s palace, and at six o’clock,
upon a signal given by the Holy Father, I stepped on the stage. I had
never appeared before such an imposing assembly. Pius VII., seated in a
large arm-chair on a daïs, occupied the foreground: near him were seated
the cardinals, and behind them were the different prelates and
dignitaries of the Church.
The Pope’s face breathed benevolence, and it was fortunate for me, for
the sight of this smiling and gentle face dissipated an unpleasant idea
which had been strangely troubling me for some moments.
“Suppose this performance,” I said to myself, “were merely a feigned
examination to make me confess my connexion with the infernal powers?
May not my words be taken down, and perhaps Cagliostro’s perpetual
imprisonment be reserved as the punishment for my innocent experiments?”
My reason soon dismissed such an absurdity--it was not probable the Pope
would lend himself to such an unworthy snare. Although my fears were
completely removed by this simple reasoning, my opening address
displayed my feelings in some degree, for it seemed more like a
justification than the prelude to a performance.
“Holy Father!” I said, bowing respectfully, “I am about to show you
some experiments to which the name of ‘White Magic’ has been most
unjustly given. This title was invented by charlatans to impress the
multitude, but it only signifies a collection of clever deceptions
intended to amuse the imagination by ingenious artifices.”
Satisfied by the favorable impression my address produced, I gaily
commenced my performance. I could not describe to you, my dear lad, all
the pleasure I felt on this evening; and the spectators seemed to take
such lively interest in all they saw, that I felt myself in unusual
spirits. The Pope himself was delighted.
“But, Monsieur le Comte,” he continually said, with charming simplicity,
“how can you do that? I shall be quite ill with merely trying to guess
your secrets.”
After the “blind man’s game of piquet,” which literally astounded the
audience, I performed the trick of the “burnt writing,” to which I owe
an autograph I set great store by. This is how the trick is done:
A person writes a sentence or two: he is then requested to burn the
paper, which must be afterwards found intact in a sealed envelope. I
begged his Holiness to write a sentence: he consented, and wrote as
follows:
“I have much pleasure in stating that M. le Comte de Grisy is an amiable
sorcerer.”
The paper was burned, and nothing could depict the Pope’s astonishment
on finding it in the centre of a large number of sealed envelopes. I
received his permission to keep this autograph.
To end my performance, and set the crown on my exploits, I now proceeded
to the trick I had invented for the occasion.
Here I had several difficulties to contend with; the greatest was
certainly to induce Cardinal de ---- to lend me his watch, and that
without asking him directly for it, and, to succeed, I must have
recourse to a ruse. At my request several watches were offered me, but I
returned them with the excuse, more or less true, that, as they had no
peculiarity of shape, it would be difficult to prove the identity of the
one I chose.
“If any gentleman among you,” I added, “has a watch of rather large size
(this was the peculiarity of the cardinal’s), and would kindly lend it
to me, I should prefer it as better suited for the experiment. I need
not say I will take the greatest care of it; I only wish to prove its
superiority, if it really possess it, or, on the other hand, to
marvellously improve it.”
All eyes were naturally turned on the cardinal, who, it was known, set
great value on the exaggerated size of his chronometer. He asserted,
with some show of reason perhaps, that the works acted more freely in a
large case. However, he hesitated to lend me his beloved watch, till
Pius VII. said to him:
“Cardinal, I fancy your watch will suit exactly; oblige me by handing it
to M. de Grisy.”
His eminence assented, though not without numberless precautions; and
when I had the chronometer in my hands, I drew the attention of the Pope
and the cardinals to it, while pretending to admire the works and
handsome chasing.
“Is your watch a repeater?” I then said to the cardinal.
“No, sir, it is a chronometer, and watches of that degree of accuracy
are not usually encumbered with unnecessary machinery.”
“Indeed! a chronometer; then it must be English?” I said, with apparent
simplicity.
“What, sir?” the cardinal replied, as if stung by my remark, “do you
think chronometers are only made in England? On the contrary, the best
specimens have always been made in France. What English maker can be
compared with Pierre Leroy, Ferdinand Berthoud, or Brèguet above all,
who made that chronometer for me?”
The Pope began to smile at the cardinal’s energy.
“Well, then, we will select this chronometer,” I said, putting a stop to
the conversation I had purposely started. “I have, then, gentlemen, to
prove to you its solidity and excellent qualities. Now for the first
trial.”
And I let the watch fall to the ground. A cry of terror rose on all
sides, while the cardinal, pale and trembling, bounded from his seat,
saying, with ill-suppressed wrath,
“You are playing a very sorry jest, sir.”
“But, monseigneur,” I said, with the greatest calmness, “you have no
occasion to be frightened; I merely wish to prove to these gentlemen the
perfection of your watch. I beg you not to be alarmed; it will escape
scathless from all the trials I subject it to.”
With these words I stamped on the case, which broke, flattened, and soon
presented but a shapeless mass. At first, I really fancied the cardinal
was going into a fit; he could scarcely restrain his passion; but the
Pope then turned to him:
“Come, cardinal, have you no confidence in our sorcerer? For my part, I
laugh like a child at it, being convinced there has been some clever
substitution.”
“Will your Holiness permit me to remark,” I said, respectfully, “that
there has been no substitution? I appeal to his eminence, who will
recognise his own watch.”
And I offered the cardinal the shapeless relics of his watch. He
examined them anxiously, and finding his arms engraved inside the case,
said, with a deep sigh, “Yes, that is certainly my watch. But,” he
added, dryly, “I know not how you will escape, sir: at any rate, you
should have played this unjustifiable trick on some object that might be
replaced, for _my_ chronometer is unique!”
“Well, your excellency, I am enchanted at that circumstance, for it must
enhance the credit of my experiment. Now, with your permission I will
proceed.”
“Good gracious me, sir, you did not consult me before destroying the
watch. Do what you please, it is no concern of mine.”
The identity of the cardinal’s watch thus proved, I wished to pass into
the Pope’s pocket the one I had bought the previous evening. But I could
not dream of this so long as his Holiness remained seated. Hence, I
sought some pretext to make him rise, and soon found one.
A brass mortar, with an enormous pestle, was now brought in. I placed it
on the table, threw in the fragments of the chronometer, and began
pounding furiously. Suddenly, a slight detonation was heard, and a vivid
light came from the vessel, which cast a ruddy hue over the spectators,
and produced a magical appearance. All this while, bending over the
mortar, I pretended to see something that filled me with the liveliest
astonishment.
Through respect for the Pope, no one ventured to rise, but the Pontiff,
yielding to his curiosity, approached the table, followed by a portion
of the audience. They might look and look: nothing was to be seen but
flame.
“I know not whether I must attribute it to the dazed state of my brain,”
said his Holiness, passing his hand over his eyes, “but I can
distinguish nothing.”
I, too, had much the same idea, but, far, from confessing it, I begged
the Pope to come round the table and chose a more favorable spot.
During this time I slipped my reserve watch into the Pope’s pocket. The
experiment was certain, and the cardinal’s watch had, by this time, been
reduced to a small ingot, which I held up to the spectators.
“Now,” I said, “I will restore this ingot to its original shape, and the
transformation shall be performed during its passage to the pocket of a
person who cannot be suspected of complicity.”
“Aha!” the Pope said, in a jocular tone, “that is becoming a little too
strong. But what would you do, my good sorcerer, if I asked you to
choose my pocket?”
“Your Holiness need only order for me to obey.”
“Well, Monsieur le Comte, let be so.”
“Your Holiness shall be immediately satisfied.”
I then took the ingot in my fingers, showed it to the company, and it
disappeared on my uttering the word “Pass.”
The Pope, with manifestations of utter incredulity, thrust his hand into
his pocket. I soon saw him blush with confusion, and draw out the watch,
which he handed to the cardinal as if afraid of burning his fingers.
At first it was supposed to be a mystification, as no one could believe
in such an immediate repair; but when my audience were assured that I
had fulfilled my promise, I received the applause so successful a trick
deserved.
The next day the Pope sent me a rich diamond snuff-box, while thanking
me for all the pleasure I had occasioned him.
This performance created a great sensation at Rome, and every one
flocked to see my marvels. Perhaps they hoped to witness the famous
trick of the “Broken Watch,” which I had performed at the Vatican. But
though I was then very extravagant, I was not so mad as to spend 1200
francs a night in the performance of a trick which could never again be
done under such favorable auspices.
An operatic company was attached to the theatre while I performed, but
their performances were suspended during my stay in Rome. The manager
employed this leisure time to rehearse a fresh piece to be performed on
my departure, and this gave me a daily opportunity to mix with the
actors. I had formed a peculiar friendship with one of the youngest of
them, a charming lad of eighteen, with a tenor voice, whose elegant and
regular features formed a singular contrast to his employment. His
feminine face, with his small waist and timid demeanor, quite injured
the effect when he played the part of a lover; he looked like a
boarding-school miss in man’s clothes. Yet, I discovered afterwards that
this effeminate person contained a bold and manly heart, for Antonio
(such was the tenor’s name) had been engaged in several affairs of
honor, in which he had done his manly devoir.
At this part of Torrini’s story I interrupted him, for the name of
Antonio struck me.
“What!” I said, “can it be that----?”
“Certainly; the same person! Your astonishment is justifiable, but it
will cease when I tell you that more than twenty years have elapsed
since the time I speak of. At that period, Antonio did not wear a heavy
black beard, and his face had not yet been embrowned by the open air and
the fatigues of our laborious and nomadic life.”
Antonio’s mother was also engaged at the theatre; she performed in the
ballets, and her name was Lauretta Torrini. Though close upon forty, she
had retained all her pristine charms. She must have been very beautiful
in her time, but the greatest scandal-mongers could not reproach her
with the least levity. She was the widow of a government clerk, and had
brought up her family by her own labor.
Antonio was not her only child; she had borne a daughter with him. These
twins, as frequently happens, had such a striking resemblance, that only
their dress distinguished them; and they had been christened Antonio and
Antonia. The lad received a musical education at the theatre, but
Antonia was always sedulously kept from the stage. After a careful
education, her mother had placed her in a milliner’s shop, till she
could set up for herself.
I have dwelled so long on this family because, as you can guess, it soon
became my own. My friendship for Antonio was not quite disinterested,
for I owed to it an introduction to his sister. Antonia was lovely and
virtuous: I asked her hand, and was accepted. Our marriage was to take
place as soon as my engagement had terminated, and it was arranged that
Lauretta and Antonio should share our fortunes.
I have already said that Antonio appeared effeminate; but although large
black eyes, fringed with long eyelashes, and exquisitely pencilled
eyebrows, a Grecian nose, and fresh and ruddy lips, were almost wasted
on Antonio, still these advantages admirably suited my betrothed. Such a
treasure could not long remain concealed: Antonia was noticed, and all
the rich young nobles fluttered round her. But she loved me, and had no
difficulty in resisting the numerous and brilliant offers made her.
While waiting the wished-for day, Antonia and I formed plans for our
future happiness. She would enjoy a travelling life, and as she longed
for a sea-voyage, I promised to take her to Constantinople. I wished to
perform before Selim III., who was considered an enlightened prince,
and hospitably treated the artists he assembled at his court. All,
then, seemed to smile on my plans, when one morning, while dreaming of
these pleasant prospects, Antonio suddenly entered my room.
“My dear Edmond,” he said, “I defy you to guess where I have been, and
what has happened to me since last evening. I must tell you, then, as
prelude to my story, that, dragged, in spite of myself, into a drama,
which threatened to become very sanguinary, I turned it into a farce,
the details of which are worth hearing. You shall judge.
“I was at the theatre yesterday, when a carpenter, a worthy man in many
respects, but who spends three parts of his time in public-houses, came
up and begged to tell me a secret.
“Monsieur Antonio,” he said, “if you wish to prevent a great evil, you
have no time to lose. I have just been drinking with some of my
comrades, and a man, whose acquaintance we had formed over the bottle,
told us we could gain a large sum easily. The proposal was so agreeable
that we accepted it unanimously, on condition of knowing what was wanted
of us. We were told, and this is what we promised to do:
“This evening, when your sister leaves her shop, we are to surround her,
as if quarrelling, and drown her cries by our shouts. The Marquis
d’A----‘s people will manage the rest. Now do you understand?”
I only understood too well, and, scarcely thanking the carpenter, I
rushed off at full speed. Fortunately my brains did not fail me. I was
in front of a gunsmith’s: I went in, bought a pair of pistols, and then
hastened home.
“Mother,” I said, as I went in, “I have made a bet that I should be
taken for Antonia by putting on her clothes. Dress me, then, quickly,
and tell my sister I beg her to leave the shop half an hour later than
usual.”
My mother did as I asked, and when I was dressed I so perfectly
resembled Antonia that she kissed me, and burst into a hearty laugh at
my pleasant idea.
Nine o’clock had just struck: it was the hour appointed for the
abduction. I hastened away, doing my best to imitate my sister’s walk
and manner. My heart beat violently when I saw this band of robbers and
servants approach me, and I instinctively put my hands on my firearms;
but I soon resumed the timid demeanor of a young girl and walked
onwards.
The affair was executed just as I had been told; I was carried off with
all proper respect, in spite of my feigned resistance, and placed in a
carriage with the blinds down.
The horses started off at a gallop.
There was a man by my side whom I recognized in the gloom; it was
certainly the Marquis d’A----. I had to endure his warm excuses, and
then his passionate assurances, which sent the blood to my cheeks, and I
was several times on the point of betraying myself, but my vengeance was
so exquisite and near that I suppressed my anger. My purpose was, so
soon as I found myself alone with him, to challenge him to mortal
combat.
Half an hour had scarce elapsed when we reached the end of our journey.
The Marquis begged me to descend, and politely offered me his hand to
lead me into a small isolated villa. We entered a brilliantly lighted
room, where some young gentlemen and ladies were awaiting us. My
abductor, radiant with victory, introduced me to his friends and their
companions, and received their felicitations.
I lowered my eyes for fear my passion might be noticed, for I knew that
this humiliating triumph had been reserved for my sister, who would
certainly have died of shame. Five minutes later a servant opened the
folding-doors, and announced that supper was served.
“To table, friends,” the marquis exclaimed--“to table, and let each take
the place he likes best!” And he offered me his arm.
We seated ourselves round a sumptuous repast, the marquis waiting on me,
for he had dismissed all the attendants. For some time I refused to
touch anything; but, you know, my dear Edmond, nature has claims which
cannot be neglected. I was fearfully hungry, and my appetite was
sharpened by the scent of the dainty dishes. In spite of my anger, I was
forced to give up my plans of abstention, and yielded to temptation.
I could not eat without drinking, and there was no water on the table.
The other ladies had no objection to wine, so I followed their example.
Still I was very moderate, and, to play my part properly, I affected
great reserve and extreme timidity.
The marquis was delighted to see me behaving thus. He addressed some
compliments to me, but noticing they were disagreeable, he did not press
me, feeling assured that he could take his revenge at a more suitable
season.
We had reached the dessert; the whole of the company were in a charming
humor. May I confess to you, my dear Edmond, that the sight of these
merry comrades and coquettish dames produced the same effect on my
senses as the dishes had done on my appetite, and insensibly dispelled
my gloomy ideas? I had no strength left to continue the dramatic
character I had undertaken, and I sought a more satisfactory conclusion.
I soon made up my mind.
Three toasts had been drunk in succession: “Wine!” “Play!” “Love!” The
ladies had joined in emptying their glasses, while I remained calm and
silent. The marquis begged me in vain to join in the general gaiety.
Suddenly I rose, glass in hand, and assuming the free-and-easy manner of
a soldier--
“Per Bacco!” I shouted, in a baritone voice, giving the marquis a hearty
slap on the shoulder. “Drink, my friends, to the lovely eyes of these
ladies!” Then I drained my glass at a draught, and trolled out a lively
ditty.
I cannot describe the marquis’s feelings; all I know is, he turned to
stone under my hand. His friends regarded me in stupor, taking me,
doubtlessly, for a maniac, while the women laughed convulsively at my
strange outbreak.
“Well, gentlemen,” I continued, “why are you surprised? Do you not
recognize Antonio Torrini, the tenor, all alive and well, and prepared
to accept anybody’s challenge with the pistol or the glass, he doesn’t
care which.” At the same time I laid my pistols on the table.
At these words, the marquis at length awoke from the torpor into which
the evanishment of his sweet dreams had plunged him, and he raised his
hand to strike me in the face. But his eyes no sooner met mine, than,
yielding to the influence of an illusion which he abandoned with such
pain, he fell back on his chair.
“No!” he said, “I cannot strike a woman.”
“Oh, as for that, M. le Marquis,” I said, as I left the table, “I only
ask ten minutes to appear before you in my proper attire.” I then went
into an adjoining room, where I doffed gown, petticoats and finery: I
had kept all my own clothes under my feminine masquerade with the
exception of my coat. That article of clothing not being indispensable
to receive a blow, and as I was in fighting costume, I returned to the
dining-room.
During my absence the scene had changed. I seemed to have “missed my
cue,” as they say in the theatre, when an actor does not arrive in time
to reply. All the guests regarded me with smiles, and one coming up,
said:
“Monsieur Antonio, my friend’s seconds and yours, appointed _ex officio_
during your absence, are agreed that you have taken ample satisfaction,
and have no occasion to fight. Do you approve of our decision?”
I offered my hand to the marquis, who took it with very ill grace, for
he evidently could not stomach the bitter trick I had played him. This
dénoûment satisfied my vengeance, and I withdrew. But, before leaving,
each of us pledged our honor to discretion, in which the ladies joined.
* * * * *
After thanking Antonio for his devotion to me, and complimenting him on
his quickness, I added:
“These gentlemen acted very gallantly in confiding a secret to the
ladies; but I, who flatter myself I can read the human heart, say with
François I.,
Souvent femme varie,
Bien fol est qui s’y fie.
For this reason the marriage shall take place the day after to-morrow,
and in three days we will start for Constantinople.”
Antonio loved his sister as much as myself, and he was right, (Torrini
added,) for she was the most perfect woman earth ever saw. She was an
angel!
The Count de Grisy was so excited by these reminiscences, that he raised
his arms to heaven, where he seemed to seek the woman he had so deeply
loved. But he fell back on his pillow again, exhausted by the agony the
disarrangement of his bandages produced. He was forced to break off his
narrative till the next day.