SOME OLD-TIME CONJURERS. “As in Agrippa’s magic glass, The loved and lost arose to view.”—WHITTIER: _The Mermaid_. I love to read about the old-time conjurers, the contemporaries of Robert-Houdin, or his immediate successors. Literature on the subject is very sparse indeed. In his memoirs, Houdin gives us a few thumbnail sketches of his rivals in the mystic art, and then dismisses them with a kindly, _Vale_. He has something to say about Bosco’s personal appearance and performances, but makes no mention of the romantic incidents in the great magician’s career. I shall try, in this chapter, to sketch the lives of some of these men, basing my information on rare _brochures_ contained in the Ellison Library, and from information picked up by Mr. Harry Houdini in Europe. The great encyclopedic dictionary of Larousse—a monument of French erudition—contains something about Phillippe, Robin and Comte. Mr. Ellis Stanyon, a conjurer of London, and author of several valuable little treatises on magic, has kindly furnished me with interesting data; the files of old newspapers in the British Museum, and the Library of Congress have also been drawn upon, also the fine collection of old programmes of Mr. Arthur Margery, the English magician. Let us begin with COMTE. Louis Apollinaire Comte was a magician of great skill, a mimic and ventriloquist. He was born in Geneva, Switzerland, June 22, 1788, and died at Rueil, France, November 25, 1859. On one occasion he was denounced by some superstitious Swiss peasants as a sorcerer, set upon and beaten with clubs, and was {161} about to be thrown into a lime kiln. His ventriloquial powers saved his life. He caused demoniacal voices to proceed from the kiln, whereupon his tormentors fled from the spot in affright, imagining that they were addressed by the Powers of Darkness. When summoned to appear before Louis XVIII, at the palace of the Tuilleries, Comte arranged a clever mystification to amuse his royal patron. During the course of the entertainment he requested the king to select a card from a pack. By his address, he caused the monarch to draw the king of hearts. Placing the card in a pistol, Comte fired it at a bouquet of flowers on a table, declaring that the pasteboard would appear in the bouquet. Immediately, a bust of the king was seen among the flowers. “What does this mean?” said Louis XVIII, with a sarcastic smile. “I fancy, sir, your trick has not ended as you stated.” “I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” Comte replied, with a profound bow. “I have quite kept my promise. I pledged myself that the king of hearts should appear in that bouquet of flowers, and I appeal to all Frenchmen whether that bust does not represent _the king of all hearts_. The experiment was applauded to the echo by those present. The _Royal Journal_ of the 20th of December, 1814, thus describes the affair.