ROBERT-HOUDIN'S IGNORANCE OF MAGIC AS BETRAYED BY HIS OWN PEN
Statements in Robert-Houdin's various works on the conjurer's art
corroborate my claim that he was not a master-magician, but a clever
purloiner and adapter of the tricks invented and used by his
predecessors and contemporaries. Whenever, in these books, he attempts
to explain or expose a trick which was not part of his répertoire, he
betrays an ignorance which would be impossible in a conjurer versed in
the finer and more subtle branches of his art. Neither do these
explanations show that he was clever enough as a mechanic to have
invented the apparatus which he claimed as his handiwork. He states that
practice and still more practice are essential, yet no intelligent
performer, amateur or professional, can study my collection of
Robert-Houdin programmes, handbills, and press notices without realizing
that his répertoire contained little or no trace of what should be the
foundation of successful conjuring, sleight-of-hand. Changing his
fingers over the various air-holes of the inexhaustible bottle was as
near as he ever came to sleight-of-hand, even when he was in the height
of his success.
According to the press notices he had a pleasing stage presence, and
also dressed and set forth his tricks richly, but it must be borne in
mind that then, as often to-day, the man sent by an editor to criticise
a conjurer's performance knew little or nothing about the art and could
not institute comparisons between different magicians. To-day
Robert-Houdin would shine as an exhibitor of illusions or mechanical
toys. A pistol shot, a puff of smoke--and his confederate or assistant
has done the real work behind the scenes.
His lack of finesse as a sleight-of-hand performer is nowhere more
clearly shown than in his own writings. On page 37 of his French exposé
of the secrets of magic, entitled "Comment on Devient Sorcier" (page 51
of the English translation by Professor Hoffmann, "The Secrets of
Conjuring and Magic"), he thus naïvely describes his masterpiece of
coin-palming:
"I myself practised palming long and perseveringly, and acquired thereat
a very considerable degree of skill. I used to be able to palm two
five-franc pieces at once, the hand, nevertheless, remaining as freely
open as though it held nothing whatever."
An amateur of his own day would have blushed to admit that he could palm
but two coins. Men like T. Nelson Downs, "The Koin King," think nothing
of palming twenty five-franc or silver dollars, or forty half-dollars,
and even this record has been broken.
Even two writers who contributed to the translation and editing of his
works, R. Shelton Mackenzie and Professor Hoffmann (Angelo J. Lewis),
and who have drawn rich royalties for the same, apologize for his
flagrant mis-statements, which, they realize, any man or woman with but
a slight knowledge of conjuring must recognize.
His first contribution to the history of magic was his "Memoirs"; and
while he does not feature exposures of tricks in this work, he offers,
in passing, explanations of tricks and automata presented by other
magicians. For the most part these explanations are obviously incorrect,
and so prove that he was ignorant of certain fundamental principles of
the art in which he claimed to have shone.
In the introduction of the American edition, published in 1850, Mr.
Mackenzie, the editor, thus apologizes for one of Robert-Houdin's most
flagrant mistakes in tracing the history of magic:
"One error which M. Houdin makes must not be passed over. His account of
M. de Kempelen's celebrated automaton chess-player (afterward Maëlzel's)
is entirely wrong. This remarkable piece of mechanism was constructed in
1769, and not in 1796; it was the Empress Maria-Theresa of Austria who
played with it, and not Catherine II. of Russia; it was in 1783 that it
first visited Paris, where it played at the Café de la Regence; it was
not taken to London until 1784, and again in 1819; it was brought to
America in 1825, by M. Maëlzel, and visited our principal cities, its
chief resting-place being Philadelphia; M. Maëlzel's death was in 1838,
on the voyage from Cuba to the United States, and not, as M. Houdin
says, on his return to France; and the automaton, so far from being
taken back to France, was sold by auction here, finally purchased by the
late Dr. J. K. Mitchell, of Philadelphia, reconstructed by him, and
finally deposited in the Chinese Museum (formerly Peale's), where it was
consumed in the great fire which destroyed the National Theatre (now the
site of the Continental Hotel, corner of Ninth and Chestnut Streets),
and, extending to the Chinese Museum, burnt it down on July 5th, 1854.
An interesting account of the Automaton Chess-Player, written by Prof.
George Allen, of this city, will be found in 'The Book of the First
American Chess Congress,' recently published in New York."
Signor Blitz, in his book "Fifty Years in the Magic Circle,"
corroborates the Mackenzie correction, by telling how he saw Maëlzel in
Havana, Cuba, where the famous German met his professional Waterloo,
first in small audiences, then in the death of his faithful confederate,
Schlomberg. Finally, broken in health and spirit, Maëlzel sailed from
Havana for Philadelphia, but death overtook him at sea. His body was
consigned to the ocean's depths, and his few effects were sold to
liquidate the cost of passage and other debts.
That Robert-Houdin should make an error concerning a world-famous
automaton the history of which could be traced through contemporary
periodicals and libraries, is almost inconceivable and proves the
carelessness with which he gathered and presented facts.
His inability to grasp the principles on which other performers built
their tricks is shown most clearly when he attempts to describe and
explain the performances of the Arabian mountebanks whom he saw during
his stay in Algiers. These tricks have been handed down from one
generation to another, and now that Arabian conjurers and acrobats are
imported for hippodrome and vaudeville performances in all civilized
countries, the tricks described by Robert-Houdin are familiar to the
general public. They are also copied by performers of other
nationalities, and can be seen in circus side-shows and at fairs, as
well as in the better grade of houses. Having worked on the same bill
with genuine Arabian performers, I know just how the tricks are
accomplished.
Robert-Houdin undertakes to explain these tricks in chapter XXII. of the
American edition of his "Memoirs." So long as he quotes reliable
authorities like the _Journal des Sciences_, the explanations are
correct. Directly he attempts an independent exposure, he strikes far
from the correct explanation.
On page 424 he states:
"In the following experiment, two Arabs held a sabre, one by the hilt,
the other by the point; a third then came forward, and after raising his
clothes so as to leave the abdomen quite bare, laid himself flat on the
edge of the blade, while a fourth mounted on his back, and seemed to
press the whole weight of his body on him.
"This trick may be easily explained.
"Nothing proves to the audience that the sabre is really sharpened, or
that the edge is more cutting than the back, although the Arab who holds
it by the point is careful to wrap it up in a handkerchief--in this,
imitating the jugglers who pretend they have cut their fingers with one
of the daggers they use in their tricks.
"Besides, in performing this trick, the invulnerable turned his back on
the audience. He knew the advantage to be derived from this
circumstance; hence, at the moment when about to lay himself on the
sabre, he very adroitly pulled back over his stomach that portion of his
clothing he had raised. Lastly, when the fourth actor mounted on his
back, he rested his hands on the shoulders of the Arabs who held the
sabre. The latter apparently maintained his balance, but, in reality,
they supported the whole weight of his body. Hence, the only requirement
for this trick is to have the stomach more or less pressed in, and I
will explain presently that this can be effected without any danger or
injury."
[Illustration: A Rannin lithograph, showing him doing the sword-walking
act which Robert-Houdin claimed to have been a fraud. Rannin is still
working in Germany, imitated by many, equalled by none. From a
photograph in the Harry Houdini Collection.]
In this explanation Robert-Houdin is entirely wrong. The real secret of
lying on top of a sharp-edged razor, sword, or sabre rests on the fact
that the performer does actually lie upon it in a perfectly motionless
position. Were he to move but the width of a hair, backward or forward
or sidewise, the weapon would slice his body, resulting in instant death
or horrible mutilation. I have watched cheap performers of this class of
work, in dime museums or fairs, walk up a ladder of sharp swords which I
had previously held in my hand. They would place the foot down with
infinite precision and then press it into place. This position will not
result in cutting, but let the performer slip or slide and the flesh
would be cut instantly. I have also seen an acrobat, working in a
circus, select two razors in first-class condition, place them on a
socket with the edges of the razors uppermost, and with his bare hands
he would do what is known as a hand-stand on the keen edges of the
blades. This trick of absolute balance is acquired by persistent
practice from youth up.
Again Robert-Houdin errs wofully in comparing the sabre-swallower to the
swallower of broken bottle-heels and stones. Sabre-swallowing is one
trick, swallowing pebbles and broken glass belongs in quite a different
class. And when I say this I do not mean powdered glass, but pieces of
glass first broken, then chewed, and finally swallowed.
On page 426 Robert-Houdin puts the two tricks in the same class, as
follows:
"When the trick of swallowing bottle-heels and pebbles was to be done,
the Aïssaoua really put them in his mouth, but I believe, I may say
certainly, that he removed them at the moment when he placed his head in
the folds of the Mokadem's burnous. However, had he swallowed them,
there would have been nothing wonderful about this, when we compare it
with what was done some thirty years back in France by a mountebank
called 'the Sabre-Swallower.'
"This man, who performed in the streets, threw back his head so as to
form a straight line with his throat, and really thrust down his gullet
a sabre, of which only the hilt remained outside his mouth.
"He also swallowed an egg without cracking it, or even nails and
pebbles, which he caused to resound, by striking his stomach with his
fist.
"These tricks were the result of a peculiar formation in the
mountebank's throat, but, if he had lived among the Aïssaoua, he would
have assuredly been the leading man of the company."
The sabre-swallower never releases his hold on the weapon. The pebble
and bottle-heel swallower does--but brings them up again, by a system of
retching which results from long practice. The Japanese have an
egg-swallowing trick in which they swallow either small-sized ivory
balls or eggs, and reproduce them by a retching so unnoticeable that
they could easily show the mouth empty.
This trick dates back to the offerings of that celebrated water-spouter,
Blaise Manfrede, or de Manfre, who travelled all over Europe. This man
could swallow huge quantities of water and then eject it in streams or
in small quantities or fill all sorts of glasses. In fact this one trick
made him famous. _The European Magazine_, London, March, 1765, pages
194-5, gives a most diverting description of his trick, taken from an
old letter, and here quoted:
"I have seen, at the September fair in Francfort, a man who professed
drinking fifty quarts of water in a day, and indeed proved that he was
capable of executing what he pretended to. I saw him perform frequently,
and remember it as well as if it was but yesterday. He said he was an
Italian; he was short and squat, his chest, face, forehead, eyes, and
mouth very large. He pretended to be fifty years old, though he did not
seem forty.
[Illustration: Blasius de Manfre or Blaise Manfrede, from a rare old
woodcut in the Harry Houdini Collection.]
"He was called the famous Blaise Manfrede, a native of Malta. At
Francfort he frequently performed three times a day: for, besides his
performances twice a day on the public stage (which nobody approached
without paying), he attended private houses when called upon by great
people.
"He called for a large bucket of fair warm water, and twenty little
glass bottles, flat like cupping glasses, so that they could stand
topside turvy. Some of these he filled with water, plunging them into
the bucket with a good deal of ceremony, and usually swallowed two or
three to wash his mouth and gargle his throat. He threw up the water
again immediately, to shew the spectators that he had no drugs between
his teeth, whence he could be suspected to derive any advantage.
"After this plausible prelude, he made an Italian harangue, which I
cannot acquaint you with the merits of, because I am a stranger to the
language.... After his harangue he usually took off two dozen of his
little bottles, which he filled from the bucket, and a moment afterwards
returned the liquor through his mouth. But what is most extraordinary is
that this water, which he threw out with violence, appeared red like
wine. And when he had discharged it into two different bottles, it was
red in one and russet like beer in the other; as soon as he shifted the
bottles to the contrary sides, they changed their complexion
respectively to that of wine or beer, and so successively so long as he
continued vomiting; in the mean time, I observed that the water grew
less discolored in proportion as he continued to discharge. This was the
first act. Then he ranged his two dozen of bottles opposite to him on a
table, and exposed to everybody's view. Then he took an equal number of
bottles, plunged them anew into the bucket, swallowed them too, and
returned them in water very transparent, rose-water,
orange-flower-water, and brandy.
"I have smelt the several odours of his liquors; nay, I have seen him
set fire to a handkerchief dipt in that which smelt like brandy, and it
burnt blue like spirituous liquors.... Nay, he frequently promised at
Venice to give the water back again in milk and oil. But I think he did
not keep his word. In short, he concluded this scene with swallowing
successfully thirty or forty glasses of water, always from the same
bucket, and after having given notice to the company by his man (who
served as an interpreter) that he was going to disembogue, he threw his
head back, and spouting out the fair water, he made it spring up with an
impetuosity like that of the strongest _jet d'eau_. This last feat
delighted the people infinitely more than all the rest, and during the
month he was at Francfort numbers from all parts came to see this
slovenly exercise. Though he repeated it more than once a day he had
more than four hundred spectators at a time. Some threw their
handkerchiefs, and some their gloves upon the stage, that he might wet
them with the water he had cast up, and he returned them differently
perfumed, sometimes with rose-water, sometimes with orange-flower-water,
and sometimes with brandy."
Another famous juggler and water-spouter was Floram Marchand, whose
picture is herewith reproduced. Judging from his dress, he antedated
Manfrede.
Bell's _Messenger_ of July 16th, 1816, tells of a sword-swallower whose
work is extremely pertinent to this discussion, and the clipping is
quoted verbatim:
[Illustration: Floram Marchand. From an old, undated English publication
in the Harry Houdini Collection.]
"The French papers give a curious account of one James de Falaise, a
Norman, about fifty years of age, living in the Rue St. Honoré. It is
said that this extraordinary man will swallow whole walnuts, shell and
all, a tobacco pipe, three cards rolled together, a rose with all its
leaves, long stalk, and thorns, a living bird, and a living mouse, and,
lastly, a live eel. Like to the Indian jugglers, he swallows the blade
of a sabre about thirteen inches long of polished steel. This operation
he performs very slowly, and with some precaution; though he evinces no
symptom of pain. After every solid body that he swallows, he always
takes a small dose of wine expressly prepared for him. He does not seem
to make any effort to kill the living animals that he takes in his
mouth, but boasts that he feels them moving in his stomach."
[Illustration: Position taken by the subject in the Indian basket trick
before he is covered by the sheet.]
In my collection is the handbill of a stone-swallower who exhibited at
No. 10 Cockspur Street, London, charging an admission fee of
half-a-crown.
[Illustration: Indian fakir seated in the basket after the subject has
been "vanished."]
These performers actually swallowed the water, stones, pebbles, etc.,
and retched them up again so cleverly and at such carefully selected
instants that the audience did not know that the disgorging had been
accomplished.
Swallowing glass was a different matter, and the modern human ostriches
have all wound up at city hospitals where surgeons have removed broken
glass, knife blades, and other foreign matter by means of an operation.
I quote the above instances simply to prove that the stones were
actually swallowed and then disgorged, and not hidden, as Robert-Houdin
claims, in the folds of the Mokadem's burnous.
In this one chapter alone Robert-Houdin quotes six authorities in
explaining the tricks he witnessed, which fact only strengthens my
belief that he borrowed his tricks, as well as his explanations, from
able and graphic writers on the art of magic.
The next work descriptive of the conjurer's art offered by Robert-Houdin
was "Les Secrets de la Prestidigitation et de la Magie." Under the title
of "The Secrets of Conjuring and Magic; or, How to Become a Wizard," it
was translated and edited by Professor Hoffmann and published in 1878 by
George Routledge & Co., London and New York.
Absolutely no originality is displayed in this book, and the majority of
the tricks explained can be found in French books of a similar character
which appeared before Robert-Houdin turned author. The proof of this
statement can be found by reading any of the following works upon which
Robert-Houdin patently drew for his material:
"Nouvelle Magie Blanche Dévoilée et Cours Complet de Prestidigitation,"
in two volumes, by J. N. Ponsin, published in Paris in 1853; "Grande
Initiation au vraie Pratique des Célèbres Physiciens-Prestidigitateurs,"
Paris, 1855; "Nouveau Manuel Complet Sorciers, les scènes de
Ventriloquie exécutées et communiquées par M. Conte, Physicien du Roi,"
Paris, 1837; "Anciens et Nouvaux Tours d'Escamotage," of which there are
innumerable editions; "Le Manuel des Sorciers. Recréations Physiques,
Mathématiques, Tours de Cartes et de Gibecière; suivre, des Jeux de
Société," Paris, 1802.
[Illustration: Position of the "vanished" Hindoo while concealed in the
basket. From the Harry Houdini Collection.]
His third work, "Magie et Physique Amusante," translated by Professor
Hoffmann under the title of "The Secrets of Stage Conjuring," and
published in English in 1881, is marred by an almost continuous strain
of mis-statements, incorrect explanations, and downright falsification.
On page 17 of the American edition Robert-Houdin starts his dramatic
tale of inventing a detector lock by which he protected a rich neighbor,
M. de l'Escalopier, from robbery, and incidentally in return secured
funds with which to open his theatre in the Palais Royal. In his
"Mémoirs" Robert-Houdin states that the opening of the theatre was made
possible by the invention of the writing and drawing automaton whose
history has been traced in chapter III. The reader can choose between
the two stories. One is as plausible as the other.
But to return to the detector lock. Count or M. De l'Escalopier having
complained grievously to his humble neighbor, the watchmaker
Robert-Houdin, that he and his family were being robbed, begged that the
latter suggest some means of catching the thief. Robert-Houdin then
recalled a childish device by which he had caught his school-fellows in
the act of pilfering his desk, etc., and he proposed to the Count that
the same device, elaborated to meet the strength of a full-grown man, be
attached to his wealthy patron's desk. As first planned, the detector
lock was to shoot off a pistol on being tampered with, and then brand
the hand of the thief with nitrate of silver. Count de l'Escalopier
objected to branding a man for life, so Robert-Houdin substituted for
the nitrate of silver a sort of cat's claw which would clamp down on the
robber's hand and draw blood. The Count deposited ten thousand francs in
his desk and caught the robber, his confidential servant, red-handed.
The ten thousand francs he presented to Robert-Houdin as a reward for
stopping the thefts.
A charming tale this makes, but, unfortunately for Robert-Houdin's
claims to originality, the detector lock was not a novelty in his day.
The lock which would first alarm the household by setting off a pistol
and then brand the thief's hand, is described by the Marquis of
Worcester in his book "Centurie of Inventions." As locks and
locksmithing form my hobby, while in England I purchased the entire set
of patent-books, to add to a collection of locks and fastenings from
every known country of the world. In the introduction of the first book
of patents for inventions relating to locks, latches, bolts, etc., from
A.D. 1774 to 1866, the following quotation will be found:
"The Marquis of Worcester in his 'Centurie of Inventions' thus describes
the first detector lock invented, A.D. 1640, by some mechanical genius
of that day: 'This lock is so constructed that, if a stranger attempts
to open it, it catches his hand as a trap catches a fox, though not as
far as maiming him for life, yet so far marketh him that if suspected he
might easily be detected.'"
It appears that to this lock was fitted a steel barb which, if a certain
tumbler was overlifted in the act of picking or otherwise, was projected
against the hand of the operator by a spring. I have seen such a lock as
this in the collection of Hobbs, Hart & Co., London, who have had it in
their possession many years. In every respect it answers the description
of the invention claimed by Robert-Houdin as his own.
Chapter VII. of "Secrets of Stage Conjuring" is devoted to
Robert-Houdin's very incorrect explanation of the famous Indian Basket
Trick. Even his own translator, Professor Hoffmann, takes issue with
Robert-Houdin, as will be seen by reading his foot-note on page 104:
"We will not venture to question the fact vouched for by so high an
authority as Robert-Houdin, that the Indian Basket Trick may sometimes
be performed after the manner above described, but we doubt very much
whether such is the usual or customary method."
[Illustration: A Ramo Samee handbill, featuring his stone-swallowing
act. From the Harry Houdini Collection.]
[Illustration: Handbill used by the original Indian jugglers in England
during 1818, in which the sword-swallowing trick is featured. From the
Harry Houdini Collection.]
Robert-Houdin states that the child is placed in the basket, and the
Indian fastens down the lid with leather straps. To facilitate this
operation, he rests his knees against the basket, and the bottom of
the latter thus being turned toward the audience, the boy slips out
through a cunningly contrived trap and quickly conceals himself under
the robe of the magician, whose attitude favors this concealment.
As the basket trick is the Hindoo magician's most wonderful offering, a
truthful account of his methods of performing the same may be
interesting. In the first place, Robert-Houdin's explanation is
impossible and unreasonable because the Hindoo magician does not wear
flowing robes in which the child could be concealed. Every Hindoo
performer I have ever seen wore short trousers and was barefooted.
The correct method of performing the trick, which has been handed down
through generations of Hindoos, is as follows: The boy subject is placed
in a net in which he is firmly tied, after having had his big toes and
thumbs fastened down with bandages. Then, with many a grunt and a groan,
he is lifted into the basket. The subject, however, pretends that the
basket is too small, so he is really seated on one side and keeps his
back in the air. This is done to give the appearance eventually that it
was impossible for him to crouch down or around the basket. The lid of
the basket is now placed on his back, and a large sheet is thrown over
the entire apparatus, which conceals from the audience every movement
made by the subject.
Now commences the Hindoo "patter," in reality yells, groans, and
incantations, while the magician and his assistant strike the basket
with swords or canes, stamp on the ground, gnash their teeth, etc.
Gradually the cover of the basket sinks until the basket seems empty,
to the spectators at least. The fakir now takes off the cover of the
basket, leaving the sheet over it, however. Then he jumps into the
presumably empty basket, stamps all around, and takes out the net in
which are found the turban worn by the subject and the thumb tie. To
prove further that the basket is still empty, the fakir seats himself in
the basket, as shown in the illustration. The lid of the basket is now
replaced, and under this friendly cover the sheet is taken off and the
basket tied up.
Now commences the true Hindoo magic. The magician is a real actor. He
apparently adjures Mahomet. He gets very angry and with fierce looks,
ejaculations, and muttered curses he grabs up a sword or cane and jabs
it through different parts of the basket. During all this time the
subject, who is something of a contortionist, is wriggling about on the
bottom of the basket, keeping out of reach of the sword, and in fact
often guiding its thrusts between his legs, as every movement on the
part of the fakir has been carefully thought out and rehearsed in
advance.
By this time the fakir has convinced his audience that the basket is
empty. To be sure he has not allowed any spectators to come too near him
or the basket, nor has any hand save his touched it, but his clever
acting almost persuades even an intelligent or sceptical onlooker that
the basket is empty.
With the lid of the basket replaced, this time above the friendly sheet,
and the basket tied, he resumes his weird incantations. He screams and
runs back and forth, playing on a small instrument with a hideous tone
which is a cross between the whistle of a locomotive with a cold, and a
sawed-off and hammered-down flute in which has been inserted a tin
whistle. As this nerve-racking music holds the spectators under its
awful spell, the basket begins to rock, the contortionist-subject
gradually raises himself inside the basket, and when the noise is at its
height he straightens up in the basket and raises it with his back as
far as it will go. To the uninitiated it actually appears as if he had
returned to an empty basket in his original position. The trick is a
marvellous deception, but only a Hindoo can exhibit it with success, for
no white person would ever indulge in the screechings, imbecilities, and
contortions which are the spectacular and convincing features of the
trick.
Sometimes the trick is varied. Instead of the subject being found in his
original position he is seen running toward the crowd as from a
distance. This is accomplished by having two subjects, one in the basket
and one hidden on the outskirts of the crowd, who are "doubles" or at
least who show a marked resemblance and are dressed exactly alike.
The earliest programmes of Hindoo jugglers in my collection are dated
1818. The "Mr. Ramosamee" featured on this bill later split his name
thus, "Ramo Samee," and was engaged to perform alone between the acts of
"The Broken Heart" at the Garrick Theatre, London. From Ramo Samee,
Continental and British magicians learned the trick of juggling brass
balls.
On page 135 Professor Hoffmann, in a foot-note, commends Robert-Houdin
for the very impartial manner in which he approaches the question of
spiritualism and spiritualistic manifestations, in his day a
comparative novelty: "In default of absolute certainty, he wisely
reserves his opinion. Where, however, as in the case of the Davenport
Brothers, he had an opportunity of personally observing the alleged
'phenomena,' he has neither difficulty in penetrating nor hesitation in
denouncing the imposture. We venture to believe that any of the
so-called spiritualistic manifestations which had come under the test of
Robert-Houdin's examination would have met a similar fate."
With this commendation I cannot agree. Robert-Houdin once had all the
leeway he wished at a most remarkable manifestation and made no attempt
to hide the fact that he was baffled by the "phenomena." The "Memoirs of
Marquis de Mirville" contain a Robert-Houdin letter in which he admits
that he could find no explanation of tests just witnessed. The letter,
translated from "Die Magie des XIX. Jahrhunderts von Uriarte," 1896,
published in Berlin, Germany, by Heusers Verlag, is herewith quoted: "I
returned from the séance as greatly astonished as it was possible for me
to be, and I am thoroughly convinced that it was entirely out of the
possibility, and no chance whatever, that it was either by accident or
practised trickery to produce such wonderful materializations.
Robert-Houdin, May 18th, 1847."
He further shows his ignorance of séances as offered in his times, by
his attempt to describe the methods employed by the Davenport Brothers,
to whom he devotes chapter XIII., which might be described as a chapter
of errors.
These picturesque American entertainers, the Davenport Brothers, hailed
from Buffalo, N. Y., U.S.A. Ira Erastus was born September 17th, 1839,
and William Henry, February 1st, 1841. They fairly startled the world by
their so-called manifestations of spiritualism during the 60's, and were
alternately lauded and reviled for their performances.
[Illustration: The Davenport Brothers in their prime, from photographs
furnished by them to the contemporary press, now in the Harry Houdini
Collection.]
Both were below medium height, rather handsome men, and, as will be seen
from the accompanying engraving, looked much alike. Their career, which
started in America, ran from about 1853 to the early 70's. They made a
trip to Europe in 1864, remaining until August, 1869. Both married
abroad; Ira a daughter of France, Mlle. Louise Toulet, and William Henry
a Polish girl, Miss Matilda Mag. On the whole, their foreign tour was
most profitable, though in some cities they paid a high price for their
notoriety. In England they waged bitter warfare with John Henry
Anderson, Tolmaque, and Professor Redmond.
On the occasion of their Paris opening at the Salle Herz they claimed
that the hoodlum element mobbed the theatre and broke up their
performance at the instigation of Henri Robin, who was playing in
opposition. Hamilton, who had succeeded to the management of
Robert-Houdin's theatre, in a letter published after witnessing their
initial performance announced that he shared this belief; but as
Robert-Houdin and Henri Robin were bitter rivals, I believe Hamilton's
letter was the result of two things: first the intense ill-will he
harbored against Robin, and second, as he had Robert-Houdin as his
mentor, he was really ignorant of the Davenport methods and therefore
not in a position to defend them. The letter, which is given in full,
appeared in _Gazette des Étrangers_, Paris, September 27th, 1865:
"Messrs. Davenport: Yesterday I had the pleasure of being present at the
séance you gave, and I came away from it convinced that jealousy alone
was the cause of the outcry raised against you. The phenomena produced
surpassed my expectations, and your experiments were full of interest to
me. I consider it my duty to add that these phenomena are inexplicable;
and the more so by such persons as have thought themselves able to guess
your supposed secret, and who are, in fact, far indeed from having
discovered the truth. Hamilton."
[Illustration: The cabinet trick offered by the Davenport Brothers. From
an old print in the Harry Houdini Collection.]
After their return to America the Davenport Brothers retired from
public life, purchased a farm, and rested on their laurels and a
corpulent bank account. One of them is said to have admitted that all
their work was skilful manipulation and not spiritualistic
manifestations. Nevertheless, their names will live so long as
spiritualism is talked of or cabinet effects tolerated by the public.
The trick as offered by the Davenport Brothers consisted of their being
tied hand and foot at opposite ends of the cabinet, which was hung with
musical instruments, bells, etc. The two men slipped in and out of the
ropes without delay or apparent damage to the ropes, and musical
instruments were played with arms presumably in bondage.
Robert-Houdin, in attempting to expose the trick, makes two flagrant
errors. First he claims that "by dint of special practice on the part of
our mediums, the thumb is made to lie flat in the hand, when the whole
assumes a cylindrical form of scarcely greater diameter than the wrist";
and second that the Davenport Brothers had trained themselves to see in
the dark.
[Illustration: Announcement used by the Davenport Brothers on their
return to London, England, after their tour of the Continent in April,
1868. From the Harry Houdini Collection.]
As releasing myself from fastenings of all sorts, from ropes to
strait-jackets, has been my profession for twenty years, I am in a
position to contradict Robert-Houdin's first claim positively. I have
met thousands of persons who claimed that the rope, as well as the
handcuff trick, was accomplished by folding the hand together or making
the wrist larger than the hand, but never have I met men or women who
could make their hands smaller than their wrists. I have even gone so
far as to have iron bands made and press my hands together, hoping
eventually to make my hands smaller than my wrists, but this has
failed, too. Even if the entire thumb were cut away, I believe it would
still be impossible to slip a rope that was properly bound around the
wrist. You may take any cuff of the adjustable make, or a ratchet cuff,
place it about a small woman's wrist, and you will find that even she
will be unable to slip her wrists. I do not mean by this any hand-cuff
that will not come to any size, or the common cuffs which when locked
will lock only to a certain size, but I mean a cuff that can be locked
and adjusted to any size of wrist.
In rope-tying, the principal trick is to allow yourself to be tied
according to certain methods of crossing your hands or wrists, so that
by eventually straightening your hands you have made enough room to
allow them to slip out very easily. It is not always the size of the
wrist that counts. It is the manner of holding your hands when the knots
are being tied.
The gift of seeing in the dark, with which Robert-Houdin endowed the
Davenports, is equally preposterous. Professor Hoffmann defends
Robert-Houdin by citing instances of prisoners who had been confined in
cells for an indefinite period and who had learned to see in the dark.
This is quite true, but they did not alternate daylight and darkness.
Eminent opticians and oculists inform me that the faculty of seeing in
the dark cannot be acquired by parties like the Davenports, who spent
most of their time in the light.
While the Davenports were pioneers in rope-tying and cabinet séances,
had Robert-Houdin been the clever sleight-of-hand performer and inventor
he claims to have been, these tricks would have been clear and solvable
to him. But as he obviously joined the ranks of the amazed and
bewildered masses, making only a futile attempt to explain the
performances, he convicts himself of ignorance regarding his own art.
A man who has made a fortune in the world of magic and who desires to
hand down to posterity a clean record of his attainments will be clever
enough and manly enough to avoid any attempt to explain that which he
does not understand. By his flagrant mis-statements regarding the tricks
of his predecessors and contemporaries, Robert-Houdin, however, convicts
himself of ignorance regarding the fundamental principles of magic, and
arouses in the minds of broad, intelligent readers doubts regarding his
claims to the invention of the various tricks and automata which he
declares to have been the output of his brain, the production of his own
deft hands.
CHAPTER XI
THE NARROWNESS OF ROBERT-HOUDIN'S "MEMOIRS"
The charm of true memoirs lies far beyond the printed pages, in the
depth and breadth of the writer's soul. The greatest of all
autobiographies are those which detail not only the lives of the men who
penned them, but which abound in diverting anecdotes and character
studies of the men and women among whom the writer moved. They are not
autobiographies alone, but vivid, broad-minded pen-pictures of the
period in which the writer was a vigorous, respect-compelling figure.
Memoirs written with a view to settling old scores seldom live to
accomplish their ends. The narrowness and pettiness of the writer, which
intelligent reading of history is bound to disclose, destroy all other
charms which the book may possess.
At personal exploitation Robert-Houdin is a brilliant success. As a
writer of memoirs he is a wretched failure. Whenever he writes of
himself, his pen seems fairly to scintillate. Whenever he refers to
other magicians of his times, his pen lags and drops on the pages blots
which can emanate only from a narrow, petty, jealous nature.
Even when he writes of his own family, this peculiar trait of petty
egotism may be read between the lines. He mentions the name of his son
Émile, apparently because the lad shared his stage triumphs. His other
children he never mentions by name. The second wife, who, he grudgingly
admits, stood valiantly by him in his days of poverty and
disappointment, he does not honor by so much as stating her name before
marriage. Rather, he refers to her as a person whom he was constrained
to place in charge of his household in order that he might continue his
experiments and his work on automata. A less gracious tribute to wifely
devotion was never penned.
But it is in dealing with contemporary magicians or those whose
handiwork in bygone years he cleverly purloined and proclaimed as his
original inventions, that the petty jealousy of the man comes to the
surface. Whenever he desires to claim for himself credit due a
predecessor in the world of magic, he either ignores the man's very
existence or writes of his competitor in such a manner that the latter's
standing as man and magician is lowered. Not that he makes broad,
sweeping statements. Rather, he indulges in the innuendo which is far
more dangerous to the party attacked. He never strikes a pen-blow which,
because of its brutality, might arouse the sympathy of his readers for
the object of his attack. Here, in the gentle art of innuendo and
belittling, if not in the conjurer's art, Robert-Houdin is a master.
[Illustration: Wiljalba Frikell in his youth, showing the peculiar
costume worn by conjurers at that time. The author secured this portrait
a few weeks before Frikell's death and sent it to the veteran conjurer,
who was amazed to learn that this print was in existence. Now in the
Harry Houdini Collection.]
In writing his "Memoirs" he deliberately ignores Compars Herrmann, Henri
Robin, Wiljalba Frikell, M. Jacobs, and P. T. Barnum, all of whom he
knew personally. He might have written most entertainingly of these men,
but in each case he had an object in avoiding reference to the
acquaintance. P. T. Barnum knew the true history of the writing and
drawing figure, as reference to chapter III. of this book will show.
Frikell was the pioneer in dispensing with cumbersome stage draperies.
Robert-Houdin claimed this innovation as the product of his own
ingenuity. Compars Herrmann was playing in London when Robert-Houdin
made his English début under Mitchell's direction, and was presenting,
trick for trick, the répertoire claimed by Robert-Houdin as original
with him. Henri Robin disputed Robert-Houdin's claim to having invented
the inexhaustible bottle, and proved his case, as will be seen by
reference to chapter VIII. Jacobs was one of Anderson's cleverest
imitators and a rival of Robert-Houdin in the English provinces.
The adroit manner in which Robert-Houdin flays Pinetti, Anderson, and
Bosco would arouse admiration were his pen-lashings devoted to men who
deserved such treatment. Under existing circumstances--his debt to Bosco
and Pinetti, whose tricks he filched remorselessly, and the fact that
Anderson's popularity outlived his own in England--his efforts to
belittle these men are unworthy of one who called himself a man and a
master magician. The truly great and successful man rises above petty
jealousy and personalities. This, Robert-Houdin could not do, even when
he sat pen in hand, in retirement, with the fear of competition removed.
It seems almost incredible that Robert-Houdin should ignore Henri Robin
in his "Memoirs," for Robin was one of the most interesting characters
of that day. He still stands in magic's history as the Chesterfield of
conjuring, a man of many gifts, charming address, and broad education.
Even in his dispute with Robert-Houdin regarding the invention of the
inexhaustible bottle, he never forgot his dignity, but proved his case
by that most potent of arguments, a well-edited magazine published under
his direction, in which an illustration showed him actually performing
the trick in 1844, or a full three years before it appeared on
Robert-Houdin's programme.
Robert-Houdin was indebted to Robin for another trick, the Garde
Française, introduced by Robert-Houdin in October, 1847. Henri Robin had
precisely the same figure, doing precisely the same feats, in the garb
of an Arab. An illustration from Robin's magazine, _L'Almanach
Cagliostro_, shows Robin offering this figure in March, 1846, or a year
and seven months before it was presented by Robert-Houdin. Yet the only
reference made by Robert-Houdin to this popular and gifted contemporary
is in "The Secrets of Stage Conjuring" where he remarks slightingly that
Robin spoiled Mr. Pepper's business by giving a poor imitation of the
latter's ghost show.
Again, in ignoring Herrmann, he proves his narrowness of mind, his utter
unwillingness to admit any ability in his rivals. Compars Herrmann was
no ordinary trickster or mountebank, but a conjurer who remained in
London almost a year, playing the very best houses, and later scoring
equal popularity in the provinces. He was decorated by various monarchs
and was famous for his large gifts to charities. Even the present
generation, including theatre-goers and students of magic, remembers the
name of Herrmann, when Robert-Houdin is forgotten or would be but for
his cleverly written autobiography.
Wiljalba Frikell, to whom should go the credit of cutting out heavy
stage draperies, never claimed the innovation as a carefully planned
conceit, but as an accident. His paraphernalia were destroyed in a fire,
but he desired to live up to his contract and give a performance as
announced. He therefore offered sleight-of-hand, pure and simple, with
the aid of a few tables, chairs, and other common properties which were
absolutely undraped. He was also compelled to don regulation, severely
plain, evening clothes. The absence of draperies, which naturally aid a
conjurer in attaining results, created so pleasing a sensation that
Frikell never again draped his stage nor wore fancy raiment. Had
Robert-Houdin told the truth about his so-called innovation, he must
have given Frikell credit, wherefore he conveniently ignores Frikell
completely.
It is entirely characteristic of Robert-Houdin that he did not openly
assail Pinetti in the pages of his "Memoirs." With cleverness worthy of
a better cause, he quotes the bitter verbal attack as issuing from the
lips of the friend and mentor of his youth, Signor Torrini.
The major portion of chapter VI., pages 92 to 104 inclusive, American
edition of his autobiography, is devoted to assailing Pinetti's
abilities as a conjurer and his reputation as a man. Granted that
Pinetti did put Torrini to shame on the Neapolitan stage, such revenge
for a wholesale duplication of the magician's tricks might be termed
almost human and natural. Had a minor magician, amateur or professional,
dogged the footsteps of Robert-Houdin, copying his tricks, the entire
répertoire upon which he depended for a livelihood, thus endangering his
future, I doubt that even the author of "Confidences d'un
Prestidigitateur" would have hesitated to unmask and undo his rival.
In fact, by reference to the editorial note, foot of page 421, American
edition of Robert-Houdin's "Memoirs," it will be seen that in 1850
Robert-Houdin appealed to the law for protection in just such a case. An
employee was sent to prison for two years, as judgment for selling to an
amateur some of his master's secrets.
[Illustration: Bartolomeo Bosco in his prime. From an engraving in the
Harry Houdini Collection.]
But in attacking Pinetti, Robert-Houdin goes a step too far and
falsifies, not directly but by innuendo, when he permits the impression
to go forth that Pinetti was hounded and ruined both financially and
professionally by Torrini, as is set forth on page 104. He pictures
Torrini as dogging the footsteps of Pinetti through all Italy and
finally driving him in a state of abject misery to Russia, where he died
in the home of a nobleman, who sheltered him through sheer compassion.
Robert-Houdin must have known this was absolutely untrue, for he quotes
Robertson, who published Pinetti's true experiences in Russia. Pinetti
took a fortune with him to Russia, acquired more wealth there, and then
lost his entire financial holdings through his passion for balloon
experiments, as is set forth in chapter II. of this book.
Then, to show his own inconsistency, after picturing Pinetti in his
"Memoirs" as a charlatan, a conjurer of vulgar, uncouth pretensions
rather than as a good showman of real ability, Robert-Houdin is forced
to admit on page 25 of "Secrets of Magic" that later conjurers employed
Pinetti programmes as a foundation upon which their performances were
built! Even here, however, Robert-Houdin fails to acknowledge an iota of
the heavy debt which he personally owed the despised Chevalier Pinetti.
Robert-Houdin devotes the greater part of chapter X., American edition
of his autobiography, to belittling Bosco, a conjurer whose popularity
all over Europe was long-lived. First, he pictures Bosco as a most cruel
creature who literally tortured to death the birds used in his
performances. Here, as in his attack on Pinetti, Robert-Houdin throws
the responsibility for criticism on the shoulders of another. His old
friend Antonio accompanies him to watch Bosco's performance, and it is
Antonio throughout the narrative who inveighs against Bosco's cruelty
and Antonio who insists upon leaving before the performance closes,
because the cruelty of the conjurer nauseates him.
At that time no society for the protection of animals existed, and, even
if it had, I doubt whether Bosco's performance would have come under the
ban. Certain magicians of to-day employ many of Bosco's tricks in which
birds and even small animals are used, but the conjuring is so deftly
done that the public of 1907, like that of 1838, thinks it is all
sleight-of-hand work and that the birds are neither hurt nor killed.
Even in Bosco's time the bird trick was not in his répertoire
exclusively. All English magicians employed it. Apparently the head of
the fowl was amputated, but often in reality it was tucked under the
wing, and the head and neck of another fowl was shown by
sleight-of-hand. Quite probably the Parisian public did not consider
Bosco cruel. Robert-Houdin and his friend Antonio, being versed in
sleight-of-hand and conjuring methods, read cruelty between the deft
movements. Certain it is that the name of Bosco has not been handed down
to posterity by other writers as a synonym of cruelty.
The animus of Robert-Houdin's attack on Bosco is evident at every point
of the narrative. Now he accuses him of bad taste in appearing in the
box-office. Again he suggests that the somewhat impressive opening of
Bosco's act savors of both charlatanism and burlesque, when in reality
the secret of showmanship consists not of what you really do, but what
the mystery-loving public thinks you do. Bosco undoubtedly secured
precisely the effect he desired, because Robert-Houdin devotes more than
a page to a most unnecessary attempt to explain away what he considered
Bosco's undeserved popularity.
Bosco was not only a clever magician, but a man of many adventures, so
that his life reads like a romance. This soldier of fortune, Bartolomeo
Bosco, was born of a noble Piedmont family, on January 11th, 1793, in
Turin, Italy. From boyhood he showed great ability as a necromancer, but
at the age of nineteen he was forced to serve under Napoleon I. in the
Russian campaign. He was a fusilier in the Eleventh Infantry, and at the
battle of Borodino was injured in an engagement with Cossacks. Pierced
by a lance, he lay upon the ground apparently dead. A Cossack callously
roamed among the dead and dying, rifling pockets and belts. When he came
to the form of Bosco, that youth feigned death, knowing that resistance
to the ghoul meant a death wound. But while the Cossack robbed the
Italian soldier, the latter stealthily raised his unwounded arm and by
sleight-of-hand rifled the well-filled pockets of the ghoul, which fact
was not discovered by the Cossack until he was far from the field of the
dead and dying, where he had left one of the enemy considerably better
off, thanks to Bosco's conjuring gifts.
Later Bosco was sent captive to Siberia, where he perfected his
sleight-of-hand while amusing fellow-prisoners and jailers. In 1814 he
was released and returned to his native land, where he studied medicine,
but eventually decided to become a public entertainer. He was not only a
clever entertainer, but a good business man, and he planned each year on
saving enough money to insure a life of ease in his old age. But events
intervened to ruin all his well-laid plans. The sins of his youth
brought their penalty. An illegitimate son, Eugene, became a heavy drag
upon the retired magician, who was compelled to pay large sums to the
young man in order to prevent his playing in either France or Germany or
assuming the name of Bosco. In a German antiquary's shop at Bonn on the
Rhine I found an agreement in which Bosco agreed to pay this youth five
thousand francs for not using the name of Bosco. This agreement is too
long for reproduction in this volume, but unquestionably it is genuine
and tells all too eloquently the troubles which beset Bosco in his old
age.
Eugene was said to be the superior of his famous father in
sleight-of-hand, but he was wild and given to excesses. Women and wine
checked what might have been a brilliant professional career. Disabled,
poverty-stricken, and respected by none, he soon disappeared from the
conjuring world, and according to Carl Willman in the "Zauberwelt" he
died miserably in Hungary in 1891.
[Illustration: Only photograph of Madame Bosco, given to the author by
Mrs. Mueller, Madame Bosco's niece, at the funeral of Wiljalba Frikell.]
[Illustration: The author at the grave of Bosco. From a photograph in
the Harry Houdini Collection.]
In the mean time, Bosco and his wife lived in poverty in Dresden, where
the once brilliant conjurer died March 2nd, 1863. His wife died three
years later and was interred in the grave with her husband in a cemetery
on Friedrichstrasse. There was nothing on the tombstone to indicate the
double interment, and I discovered the fact only by investigating the
municipal and cemetery records. Here I also learned that the grave had
merely been leased, and as the lease was about to expire the bones of
the great conjurer and his faithful wife might soon be disinterred and
reburied in a neglected corner of the graveyard devoted to the poor and
unclaimed dead. To prevent this, I purchased the lot and tombstone, and
presented the same to the Society of American Magicians, of which
organization, at the present writing, I am a member.
A man of noble birth and brilliant attainments was the original Bosco,
and his name became a by-word all over the Continent as the synonym, not
of cruelty, but of clever deception, yet never has posterity put the
name of a great performer to such ignoble uses. For who has not heard
the cry of the modern Bosco, "Eat-'em-alive"?
To-day I can close my eyes and summon two visions. First I see myself
standing bareheaded before a neglected grave in the quiet cemetery on
Friedrichstrasse, Dresden, the sunlight pouring down upon the tombstone
which bears not only the cup-and-balls and wand, insignia of Bosco's
most famous trick, but this inscription: "Ici repose le célèbre
Bartolomeo Bosco.--Né à Turin le 11 Janvier, 1793; décédé à Dresden le 2
Mars, 1863." The history of this clever conjurer, with all its lights
and shadows, sweeps before me like a mental panorama.
The second vision carries me into the country, to the fairs of England
and the side-shows of America:
"Bosco! Bosco! Eat-'em-alive Bosco. You can't afford to miss this
marvel. Bosco! Bosco!"
Follow me into the enclosure and gaze down into a den. There lies a
half-naked human being. His hair is long and matted, a loin cloth does
wretched duty as clothing. Torn sandals are on his feet. The eulogistic
lecturer dilates upon the powers of this twentieth-century Bosco, but
you do not listen. Your fascinated gaze is fixed on various hideous,
wriggling, writhing forms on the floor of the den. Snakes--scores of
them! Now the creature, half-animal, half-human, glances up to make sure
that attention is riveted upon him, then grasps one of the serpents in
his hideous hands and in a flash bites off its head. The writhing body
falls back to the ground.
You grip the railing in a sudden faintness. Has your brain deceived your
eyes, or your eyes your brain? If you are a conjurer you try to convince
yourself that it is all a clever sleight-of-hand exhibition, but in your
heart you know it is not true. This creature, so near a beast, has
debauched his manhood for a few paltry dollars, and in dragging himself
down has dragged down the name of a worthy, a brilliant, a world-famous
performer.
Of the twentieth-century Boscos there are, alas, many. You will find
them all over the world, in street carnivals, side-shows, fair-booths,
and museums, and why the public supports such debasing exhibitions I
have never yet been able to understand. I have seen half-starved
Russians pick food from refuse-barrels. I have seen besotted Americans
creep out from low dives to draw the dregs of beer-barrels into tomato
cans. I have seen absinthe fiends in Paris trade body and soul to obtain
their beloved stimulant. I have heard morphine fiends in Russia promise
to exhibit the effect of the needle in return for the price of an
injection. But never has my soul so risen in revolt as at sight of this
bestial exhibition with which the name of Bosco, a nobleman and a
conjurer of merit, has been linked.
[Illustration: Anderson's opening programme at the Strand Theatre,
Christmas week, 1848, showing that he duplicated the tricks offered by
Robert-Houdin, who, in his "Memoirs," claims that Anderson's programme
was stale and uninteresting by comparison with his own.]
Even more despicable than his attack upon Bosco is Robert-Houdin's
flaying of John Henry Anderson. In this he is both unmanly and
untruthful. Hinging his attack on his surprise at the press methods
and advertising adopted in England as opposed to the less spectacular
means employed in France, he insinuates that Anderson's entire success
was built not upon merit, ability, originality, or diversified
programmes, but solely upon sensational advertising. On page 325 of the
American edition of his "Memoirs" Robert-Houdin writes thus of his
competitor:
"On my arrival in England a conjurer of the name of Anderson, who
assumed the title of Great Wizard of the North, had been performing for
a long period at the little Strand Theatre.
"This artist, fearing, doubtlessly, that public attention might be
divided, tried to crush the publicity of my performances; hence he sent
out on London streets a cavalcade thus organized:
"Four enormous carriages, covered with posters and pictures representing
all sorts of witchcraft, opened the procession. Then followed
four-and-twenty merry men, each bearing a banner on which was painted a
letter a yard in height.
"At each cross-road the four carriages stopped side by side and
presented a bill some twenty-five yards in length, while all the men (I
should say letters), on receiving the word of command, drew themselves
up in a line, like the vehicles.
"Seen in front the letters formed this phrase:
THE CELEBRATED ANDERSON ! ! !
While on the other side of the banners could be read:
THE GREAT WIZARD OF THE NORTH.
[Illustration: Handbill used by Anderson in Germany. January, 1848, when
Robert-Houdin claimed that he was playing in the English provinces. From
the Harry Houdini Collection.]
"Unfortunately for the Wizard, his performances were attacked by a
mortal disease; too long a stay in London had ended by producing
satiety. Besides, his repertory was out-of-date, and could not contend
against the new tricks which I was offering. What could he present to
the public in opposition to the second sight, the suspension, and the
inexhaustible bottle? Hence he was obliged to close his theatre and
start for the provinces, where he managed, as usual, to make excellent
receipts, owing to his powerful means of notoriety."
In the first place, Robert Houdin insinuates that when they played in
opposition John Henry Anderson's répertoire was stale and uninteresting.
Is it possible that Robert-Houdin could not read Anderson's bills, or
were his statements deliberate falsehoods, emanating from a malicious,
wilful desire to injure Anderson?
What did Anderson have to offer in opposition to Robert-Houdin's
much-vaunted Suspension, Second Sight, and Inexhaustible Bottle? Consult
the Anderson programme, reproduced, and you will find that the great
Wizard of the North duplicated the French conjurer's répertoire. "The
Ethereal Suspension" of Robert-Houdin's programme was "Suspension
Chloroforeene" on Anderson's. Second Sight appeared on both bills. "The
Inexhaustible Bottle" had wisely been dropped by Anderson because he had
been using it in one form or another for ten years preceding the date of
Robert-Houdin's appearance in London, as is proven in chapter IX. of
this book.
Therefore, if Anderson's programme was passé and uninteresting, so also
must have been the one offered by Robert-Houdin!
[Illustration: Poster used by Anderson during his closing week at the
Strand Theatre, London, January 11th, 1848. From the Harry Houdini
Collection.]
Second, John Henry Anderson was not in London when Robert-Houdin arrived
there in May, 1848. He was on the Continent, and a bill reproduced will
show that he was in Germany in January, 1848, and did not open at the
Strand Theatre until December 26th, 1848. Then it was Robert-Houdin who
had just returned from the provinces, not Anderson. Anderson had been
playing the capitals of Europe. Robert-Houdin had been in Manchester,
England.
Robert-Houdin again skilfully twists the truth to suit his own ends. He
actually states that Anderson, returning from a tour of the provinces,
used a new poster, a caricature of the famous painting, "Napoleon's
Return from Elba":
"In the foreground Anderson was seen affecting the attitude of the great
man; above his head fluttered an enormous banner bearing the words 'The
Wonder of the World'; while, behind him and somewhat lost in the shade,
the Emperor of Russia and several other monarchs stood in a respectful
posture. As in the original picture, the fanatic admirers of the Wizard
embraced his knees, while an immense crowd received him triumphantly. In
the distance could be seen the equestrian statue of the Iron Duke, who,
hat in hand, bowed before him, the Great Wizard; and lastly, the very
dome of St. Paul's bent towards him most humbly.
"At the bottom was the inscription,
RETURN OF THE NAPOLEON OF NECROMANCY.
"Regarded seriously, this picture would be found a puff in very bad
taste; but as a caricature it is excessively comic. Besides, it had the
double result of making the London public laugh and bringing a great
number of shillings into the skilful puffer's pockets."
[Illustration: Eugene Bosco, son of the original Bosco. From the Harry
Houdini Collection.]
Reference to my collection of Anderson programmes and press clippings
proves that while on the Continent his performances had created such a
sensation that, according to the ethics and etiquette of his profession,
Anderson was quite justified in assuming the title of "The Napoleon of
Necromancy" and in depicting even kings and noblemen admiring his
abilities as a conjurer. But, alas, Robert-Houdin had played only before
English and French monarchs, not before the other crowned heads of
Europe, including the Czar of Russia and the German Kaiser!
It required weeks and months of browsing in old book- and print-shops,
national libraries, and rare collections on my part to prove that
Anderson had really played these engagements, when his bitter rival,
Robert-Houdin, his heart eaten with jealousy until his sense of honor
and truth was hopelessly blunted, was claiming that Anderson had just
returned from a trip in the English provinces.
It will be noted by reference to the Anderson programme that he had been
engaged only for the Christmas holidays, but despite Robert-Houdin's
claim that he was a failure and was obliged to close and seek new fields
of conquest in the provinces, Anderson's engagement was extended. He
remained at the Strand until January 11th, 1848, then after a brief
provincial tour he actually returned to London and played to big
receipts. Again and again he appeared in London. Far from being the
unpopular, forgotten ex-magician pictured by Robert-Houdin, he performed
with great success at the St. James Theatre, London, in 1851.
Robert-Houdin appeared in London for the last time in 1853, but in 1865
"the despised and forgotten Anderson" was there again, creating a furor
in his exposure of the Davenport Brothers.
[Illustration: John Henry Anderson as he appeared in his later years.
From a cut in the Harry Houdini Collection.]
Robert-Houdin might have been justified in criticising Anderson's
sensational advertising methods, for these were entirely opposed to the
more elegant and conservative methods employed by the French conjurer.
But certainly he was not justified in picturing his rival as one who
had passed his prime, whose popularity had waned, whose répertoire no
longer attracted the public. For, in addition to duplicating
Robert-Houdin's entire répertoire, Anderson offered tricks of which
Robert-Houdin knew nothing, and for years to come he constantly
reconstructed his programmes, keeping them strictly up-to-date.
Anderson did die a poor man, but this was not because the
amusement-loving public had wearied of him. A popular performer, like so
many of his class he did not know how to invest his huge earnings. It is
known that he gave $20,000 to various charities, while no record of
Robert-Houdin's charities exists. He was burned out several times. He
lost money through a bad contract made for his Australian tour. Certain
investments dropped in value because of the Civil War in the United
States, during which England sympathized with the South. Finally, during
his American tour after the Civil War, Anderson played the Southern
States, then steeped in bitterness toward the North, and was unfortunate
enough to bill himself as "The Great Wizard of the North." This roused
the Southern prejudice to white heat, he was almost mobbed, and was
finally driven from that section of the country. He went into
bankruptcy, November 19th, 1866, and died at Darlington, County Durham,
England, Feb. 3rd, 1874. His remains were interred, in accordance with
his dying request, at Aberdeen, Scotland.
So ends the true history of Robert-Houdin. The master-magician,
unmasked, stands forth in all the hideous nakedness of historical proof,
the prince of pilferers. That he might bask for a few hours in public
adulation, he purloined the ideas of magicians long dead and buried, and
proclaimed these as the fruits of his own inventive genius. That he
might be known to posterity as the king of conjurers, he sold his
birthright of manhood and honor for a mere mess of pottage, his
"Memoirs," written by the hand of another man, who at his instigation
belittled his contemporaries, and juggled facts and truth to further his
egotistical, jealous ambitions.
But the day of reckoning is come. Upon the history of magic as
promulgated by Robert-Houdin the searchlight of modern investigation has
been turned. Credit has been given where it belongs, to those magicians
who preceded Robert-Houdin and upon whose abilities and achievements
Robert-Houdin built his unearned, unmerited fame. The dust of years has
been swept from names long forgotten, which should forever shine in the
annals of magic.
Thus end, also, my researches, covering almost two decades of time,
researches in which my veneration for old-time magicians grew with each
newly discovered bit of history; researches during which my respect for
the profession of magic has grown by leaps and bounds. And the fruits of
these researches I now lay before the only true jury, the great reading
public. My task is finished.
* * * * *
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
Inventions and and Discoveries=> Inventions and Discoveries {pg 14}
from his autobigraphy=> from his autobiography {pg 34}
is supposed so have been engraved=> is supposed to have been engraved
{pg 59 illustration caption}
is his autobiography=> in his autobiography {pg 89 illustration caption}
woudn=> wound {pg 160}
perfomances=> performances {pg 187}
though as far as maiming him for life=> though not as far as maiming him
for life {pg 281}
the frontispiese=> the frontispiece {pg 48 illustration caption}
End of Project Gutenberg's The Unmasking of Robert-Houdin, by Harry Houdini