preying upon, the rich and gullible. In any event the provenance lists, after 1840, several owners, all, of course, given the expense of the piece, well-to-do, and at least three of whom, as I recall, were titled, though in all cases only members of the minor nobility. As nearly as I can determine few of these individuals kept the bed very long, and it seems to have spent much of its time in warehouses, between purchases. Two of the purchasers, interestingly, seem to have fled, disappearing from society, completely, and another ended his life in a house for the insane. These unfortunate coincidences, as well as its alleged provenance, suggesting its earlier ownership by the famed Cagliostro, thought to have been a dabbler in dark forces, doubtless gave the bed an unsavory reputation, and I would suppose that it may have been little slept in, even between sales, and storage. Certainly it, so dark, heavy, massive, and enclosing, has a rather grim, dismal aspect, with the leonine heads, the claws, the vines, or tentacles, and such. If one allows the mind and imagination unwonted play it would be easy to see in it something not only forbidding but sinister. I would not, at any rate, personally, care to repose in it. Nor would I care for one of whom I was fond to repose in it. I do not think for example, that I, personally, would have given it to a friend.
But let me come to the matter at hand.
It has to do with two items, one, a mysterious demise, or fate, that of our illusionist, and, two, certain entries in his diary.
I cannot claim to be a friend of the illusionist, but we did have several dealings, largely connected with my helping him to acquire various art objects, mostly paintings and small statuary, but also various articles of period furniture, these things being additions to what was, even years ago, a quite valuable collection. These things are now gone at auction to satisfy creditors. At the end, aside from the value of his collection, our illusionist seems to have been nearly destitute. Apparently he lived well beyond his means, but on what he may have dissipated his fortune is unclear, given the apparently abstemious, lonely nature of his life. Certainly the expenses of his collection would have accounted for no more than a fraction of his estimated wealth. There was talk of certain rare books, which he burned at the end, and tuitions for instructions in certain arcane exercises, also, too, apparently abandoned, at the end. In any event, the assistance I rendered to our illusionist was rendered in my role as a dealer, and not as a friend, confidant, or such. I am not clear that our illusionist had friends, but I did not know him well enough to assert that with certainty. He seemed on the whole, off the stage, as I have suggested, to be a solitary sort, much devoted to his craft, and his studies. I hasten to add that it was not my doing that he came into the possession of the article of furniture referred to above, that piece alleged to have once belonged to the famous Cagliostro. Indeed, I trust I have already made clear my skepticism as to the authenticity of its provenance, though it was clearly genuine in the sense of being an authentic period piece of the late Baroque. To that any qualified dealer might reliably attest.
Before we come to the diary, or certain selected portions of it, I should mention that our illusionist seemed to me, and to many others, to tread a thin line between entertainment and fraud, between showmanship and chicanery. A contemporary magician may well keep the secrets of his craft close to this bosom, and guard its mechanisms with a most jealous devotion, but today, commonly, few, if any, of these delightful showmen actually pretend to the reality of magic, taken in some occult or preternatural sense. While dazzling us with their wondrous illusions, and eliciting our acclaim, delight, and awe, few, if any, pretend they are up to anything but marvelous, sophisticated tricks, tricks
But let me come to the matter at hand.
It has to do with two items, one, a mysterious demise, or fate, that of our illusionist, and, two, certain entries in his diary.
I cannot claim to be a friend of the illusionist, but we did have several dealings, largely connected with my helping him to acquire various art objects, mostly paintings and small statuary, but also various articles of period furniture, these things being additions to what was, even years ago, a quite valuable collection. These things are now gone at auction to satisfy creditors. At the end, aside from the value of his collection, our illusionist seems to have been nearly destitute. Apparently he lived well beyond his means, but on what he may have dissipated his fortune is unclear, given the apparently abstemious, lonely nature of his life. Certainly the expenses of his collection would have accounted for no more than a fraction of his estimated wealth. There was talk of certain rare books, which he burned at the end, and tuitions for instructions in certain arcane exercises, also, too, apparently abandoned, at the end. In any event, the assistance I rendered to our illusionist was rendered in my role as a dealer, and not as a friend, confidant, or such. I am not clear that our illusionist had friends, but I did not know him well enough to assert that with certainty. He seemed on the whole, off the stage, as I have suggested, to be a solitary sort, much devoted to his craft, and his studies. I hasten to add that it was not my doing that he came into the possession of the article of furniture referred to above, that piece alleged to have once belonged to the famous Cagliostro. Indeed, I trust I have already made clear my skepticism as to the authenticity of its provenance, though it was clearly genuine in the sense of being an authentic period piece of the late Baroque. To that any qualified dealer might reliably attest.
Before we come to the diary, or certain selected portions of it, I should mention that our illusionist seemed to me, and to many others, to tread a thin line between entertainment and fraud, between showmanship and chicanery. A contemporary magician may well keep the secrets of his craft close to this bosom, and guard its mechanisms with a most jealous devotion, but today, commonly, few, if any, of these delightful showmen actually pretend to the reality of magic, taken in some occult or preternatural sense. While dazzling us with their wondrous illusions, and eliciting our acclaim, delight, and awe, few, if any, pretend they are up to anything but marvelous, sophisticated tricks, tricks
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