My Cousin Robert--The most important Event in my Life--How a Man
becomes a Sorcerer--My first Sleight-of-Hand Feat--An utter
Failure--Practising the Eye and the Hand--Curious Experiment in
Prestidigitation--Monsieur Noriet--An Action more ingenious than
delicate--I am Poisoned--Influence of Delirium.
Before speaking of my labors in the watchmaker’s shop, I must introduce
my readers to my new master. And, in the first place, to set myself
right, I will say that my cousin Robert, as I used to call him, has been
since my first connexion with him, one of my best and dearest friends.
It would be difficult, in fact, to imagine a more happy character, a
heart more affectionate and devoted.
With a rare intelligence, my cousin combined other equally valuable
qualities. He possessed a graceful address, which, without flattery, I
may say is peculiar to our family, and he was justly considered the
first watchmaker in Blois, a town which has long excelled in the
horologic art.
My cousin began by teaching me how to “make filings,” as my father
called it, but I required no apprenticeship to learn the use of tools,
and hence the outset was not so painful as it is usually to novices.
From the beginning of my apprenticeship I was enabled to undertake small
jobs, which gained me my master’s praise. Yet I would not have it
supposed I was a model pupil, for I had still rife in me that spirit of
investigation which drew down upon me several reprimands from my cousin,
and I could not endure to confine my imagination to the ideas of another
person. I was continually inventing or improving.
My whole life through, this passion--or, if you will, mania--has held
sway over me. I never could fix my thoughts on any task without trying
to introduce some improvement, or strike out a novel idea. But this
temperament--eventually so favorable--was at this period very
prejudicial to my progress. Before following my own inspirations and
yielding to my fancies, I ought to have learned the secrets of my art,
and, in fact, dispelled all ideas which were only adapted to make me
diverge from the true principles of clockmaking.
Such was the sense of the paternal observations made now and then by my
cousin, and I was obliged to recognize their justice. Then I would go to
work again with redoubled zeal, though groaning inwardly at the bonds
that fettered my genius. In order to aid my progress and afford me
relaxation, my master recommended me to study some treatises on
mechanics in general, and on clockmaking in particular. As this suited
my taste exactly, I gladly assented, and I was devoting myself
passionately to this attractive study, when a circumstance, apparently
most simple, suddenly decided my future life, by revealing to me a
vocation whose mysterious resources must open a vast field for my
inventive and fanciful ideas.
One evening I went into a bookseller’s shop to buy Berthoud’s “Treatise
on Clockmaking,” which I knew he had. The tradesman being engaged at the
moment on matters more important, took down two volumes from the shelves
and handed them to me without ceremony. On returning home, I sat down to
peruse my treatise conscientiously, but judge of my surprise when I
read on the back of one the volumes “SCIENTIFIC AMUSEMENTS.” Astonished
at finding such a title on a professional work, I opened it impatiently,
and, on running through the table of contents, my surprise was doubled
on reading these strange phrases:
_The way of performing tricks with the cards--How to guess a person’s
thoughts--To cut off a pigeon’s head, to restore it to life, &c., &c._
The bookseller had made a mistake. In his haste, he had given me two
volumes of the Encyclopædia instead of Berthoud. Fascinated, however, by
the announcement of such marvels, I devoured the mysterious pages, and
the further my reading advanced, the more I saw laid bare before me the
secrets of an art for which I was unconsciously predestined.
I fear I shall be accused of exaggeration, or at least not be understood
by many of my readers, when I say that this discovery caused me the
greatest joy I had ever experienced. At this moment a secret
presentiment warned me that success, perhaps glory, would one day accrue
to me in the apparent realization of the marvellous and impossible, and
fortunately these presentiments did not err.
The resemblance between two books, and the hurry of a bookseller, were
the common-place causes of the most important event in my life.
It may be urged that different circumstances might have suggested this
profession to me at a later date. It is probable; but then I should have
had no time for it. Would any workman, artisan, or tradesman give up a
certainty, however slight it may be, to yield to a passion which would
be surely regarded as a mania? Hence my irresistible penchant for the
mysterious could only be followed at this precise period of my life.
How often since have I blessed this providential error, without which I
should have probably vegetated as a country watchmaker! My life would
have been spent in gentle monotony; I should have been spared many
sufferings, emotions, and shocks; but, on the other hand, what lively
sensations, what profound delight would have been sacrificed!
I was eagerly devouring every line of the magic book which described the
astounding tricks; my head was a-glow, and I at times gave way to
thoughts which plunged me in ecstasy. Still the hours slipped away, and
while my mind was indulging in fanciful dreams, I did not notice that my
candle had burned down in the socket. How can I describe my
disappointment when it suddenly went out? It was the last candle I
possessed; hence I was forced to quit the sublime realms of magic all
for want of a halfpenny taper. At this instant I would have given my
whole fortune, were it only for a street lamp.
I was not exactly in the dark: a dim ray entered my window from a
neighboring lamp: but, though I made every effort to read by it, I could
not decipher a single word, was obliged to retire to bed willy-nilly.
In vain I tried to sleep: the febrile excitement produced by the book
prevented either sleep or rest. I went continually over the passages
which had most struck me, and the interest they inspired only the more
excited me. Finding it impossible to remain in bed, I repeatedly
returned to the window, and while casting envious glances on the lamp, I
had made up my mind to go down into the street and read by its light,
when another idea occurred to me. In my impatience to realize it I did
not wait to dress, but, confining my attire to what was strictly
necessary, if I may so call a pair of slippers and my drawers, I took my
hat in one hand, a pair of pincers in the other, and went down into the
street.
Once there, I proceeded straight to the lamp; for I must confess, that
in my anxiety to profit at once by the sleight-of-hand tricks I had been
studying, I intended to conjure away the oil-lamp provided by the
authorities for the safety of the town. The part the hat and pincers
were to play in the operation were simple enough: the latter would
wrench open the little box containing the end of the cord by which the
lamp was raised, and the former would act as a dark lantern, and hide
the rays of light which might betray my theft.[A]
All prospered famously; and I was about to retire in triumph, when a
miserable incident threatened to rob me of the profits of my trick. At
the moment of my success a baker’s man overthrew my plans by emerging
from the door of his shop. I concealed myself in a doorway, and, while
striving to hide the light, I waited perfectly motionless till the
unlucky baker retired. But judge of my grief and terror when I saw him
lean against the door and calmly smoke his pipe!
My position was growing intolerable; the cold and the fear of detection
made my teeth chatter, and to increase my despair, I soon felt the
lining of my hat catch fire. There was no time for hesitation: I crushed
my failure of a lantern in my hands, and thus put out the fire; but it
was a dreadful sacrifice. My poor hat, the one I wore on Sundays, was
smoked, stained with oil, and shapeless. And while I was enduring all
these torments, my tyrant continued to smoke with an air of calmness
and comfort which drove me nearly mad.
It was quite plain I could not stay here till day-light; but how to
escape from this critical situation? To ask the baker to keep my secret
would be running a risk; while, to return home straight would betray me,
for I must pass in front of him, and he would be sure to recognise me.
The only chance left was to go down a side street and make a détour to
reach the house. This I decided on, even at the risk of any one meeting
me in my bathing attire. Without delay I took hat and lamp under my arm,
for I was forced to remove the proofs of my crime, and I started off
like an arrow. In my trouble, I fancied the baker was after me. I even
thought I heard his foot-fall behind me, and in my anxiety to escape I
doubled my speed; first I turned to the right, then to the left, and
went through such a number of streets, that it took me a quarter of an
hour to regain my room, in a state of perfect collapse, yet glad to have
escaped so cheaply.
It is a painful confession for a man destined eventually to fill a
certain part in the annals of conjuring to make, that my trial-piece
turned out so lamentably. In fact, to use a theatrical phrase, it was an
utter _fiasco_.
Still, I was not at all discouraged; the next day I regained all my
equanimity on finding my precious treatise on “White Magic” before me,
and I began studying the interesting secrets it contained with great
ardor.
Within a week I knew them all by heart.
From theory I resolved to proceed to practice; but, just as was the case
with Carlosbach’s book, I suddenly met with an obstacle. The author, I
will grant, was more conscientious than the Bordelais mystifier: he gave
a very plain explanation of his tricks; still, he committed the error of
supposing his readers possessed of the necessary skill to perform them.
Now, I was entirely deficient in this skill, and though most desirous of
acquiring it, I found nothing in the book to indicate the means. I was
in the position of a man who attempts to copy a picture without
possessing the slightest notion of drawing and painting.
In the absence of a professor to instruct me, I was compelled to create
the principles of the science I wished to study. In the first place, I
recognised the fundamental principle of sleight-of-hand, that the organs
performing the principal part are the sight and touch. I saw that, in
order to attain any degree of perfection, the professor must develop
these organs to their fullest extent--for, in his exhibitions, he must
be able to see everything that takes place around him at half a glance,
and execute his deceptions with unfailing dexterity.
I had been often struck by the ease with which pianists can read and
perform at sight the most difficult pieces. I saw that, by practice, it
would be possible to create a certainty of perception and facility of
touch, rendering it easy for the artist to attend to several things
simultaneously, while his hands were busy employed with some complicated
task. This faculty I wished to acquire and apply to sleight-of-hand;
still, as music could not afford me the necessary elements, I had
recourse to the juggler’s art, in which I hoped to meet with an
analogous result.
It is well known that the trick with the balls wonderfully improves the
touch, but does it not improve the vision at the same time? In fact,
when a juggler throws into the air four balls crossing each other in
various directions, he requires an extraordinary power of sight to
follow the direction his hands have given to each of the balls. At this
period a corn-cutter resided at Blois, who possessed the double talent
of juggling and extracting corns with a skill worthy of the lightness
of his hands. Still, with both these qualities, he was not rich, and
being aware of that fact, I hoped to obtain lessons from him at a price
suited to my modest finances. In fact, for ten francs he agreed to
initiate me in the juggling art.
I practised with so much zeal, and progressed so rapidly, that in less
than a month I had nothing more to learn; at least, I knew as much as my
master, with the exception of corn-cutting, the monopoly in which I left
him. I was able to juggle with four balls at once. But this did not
satisfy my ambition; so I placed a book before me, and, while the balls
were in the air, I accustomed myself to read without any hesitation.
This will probably seem to my readers very extraordinary; but I shall
surprise them still more, when I say that I have just amused myself by
repeating this curious experiment. Though thirty years have elapsed
since the time of which I am writing, and though I scarcely once touched
the balls during that period, I can still manage to read with ease while
keeping three balls up.
The practice of this trick gave my fingers a remarkable degree of
delicacy and certainty, while my eye was at the same time acquiring a
promptitude of perception that was quite marvellous. Presently I shall
have to speak of the service this rendered me in my experiment of second
sight. After having thus made my hands supple and docile, I went on
straight to sleight-of-hand, and I more especially devoted myself to the
manipulation of cards and palmistry.
This operation requires a great deal of practice; for, while the hand is
held apparently open, balls, corks, lumps of sugar, coins, &c., must be
held unseen, the fingers remaining perfectly free and limber.
Owing to the little time at my disposal, the difficulties connected
with these new experiments would have been insurmountable, had I not
found a mode of practising without neglecting my business. It was the
fashion in those days to wear coats with large pockets on the hips,
called _à la propriétaire_, so whenever my hands were not otherwise
engaged they slipped naturally into my pockets, and set to work with
cards, coins, or one of the objects I have mentioned. It will be easily
understood how much time I gained by this. Thus, for instance, when out
on errands my hands could be at work on both sides; at dinner, I often
ate my soup with one hand while I was learning to _sauter la coupe_ with
the other--in short, the slightest moment of relaxation was devoted to
my favorite pursuit. As no one suspected that my paletôt was in some
degree a study, this manner of keeping my hands in my pockets began to
be regarded as a bad habit I had acquired; but after a few jests on the
subject I was left in peace.
Though my passion for sleight-of-hand was so intense, I had, however,
sufficient command over myself not to displease my master, who never
noticed that my thoughts were away from my work, and constantly praised
me for my regularity and application.
At length my apprenticeship was over, and my cousin, one fine day,
stated I was a journeyman and able to earn wages. I heard this with
double pleasure, for I found in it not only greater liberty, but also a
chance of improving my finances. Nor was I long ere I profited by my
advancement; a situation was offered me by a watchmaker at Tours, and I
proceeded to that town at once.
My new master was that M. Noriet, who afterwards gained some distinction
as a sculptor. His imagination, already fall of his future works,
disdained the ordinary labor of watch repairing, and he gladly left to
his workmen what he called, ironically, the “shoe-black” part of the
trade. It was for this purpose I joined him, and I received, in addition
to board and lodging, 35 fr. a month. Little enough, I grant; but it was
an enormous sum in my eyes, for, since leaving the lawyer’s, at Avaray,
my income had been reduced to a _minimum_.
When I say I earned 35 fr., it is merely to mention a round sum; in
reality I never received it net. Madame Noriet, in her quality of an
excellent manager, was perfectly conversant with all matters relative to
discount and exchanges; and thus, she had found a way of lessening my
wages in a manner as ingenious as it was improper. She used to pay me in
crowns of six francs, and as at that time six-franc pieces were only
worth 5 fr. 80 c., the lady gained 24 sous every month, which I carried
to my “profit and loss” account.
Although my time was fully occupied here, I managed to continue my
pocket practice; and I daily noticed with joy the progress I was making.
I had learned how to make any object I held in my hand disappear with
the greatest ease; and as for the practice of card tricks, they were
only child’s play to me, and I could produce some delightful illusions.
I confess to feeling a degree of pride in my humble power of amusing my
friends, and I neglected no occasion of displaying it. On Sunday, for
instance, after the invariable game of loto, which was played in this
patriarchal family, I gave a small performance of sleight-of-hand, which
enlivened the melancholy victims of this most monotonous of all games. I
was honored with the name of an “agreeable droll,” and this compliment
delighted me.
My regular habits, my perseverance, and perhaps a certain degree of
gaiety I possessed at the time, had gained me the friendship and
sympathy of both my master and mistress. At last I became an
indispensable member of the family, and shared in all their amusements.
Among these were frequent excursions in the country. On one of these, on
the 25th of July, 1828, (I shall never forget that memorable date, as it
was all but registered on my tombstone,) we went to a fair at an
adjacent village. Before leaving Tours, we had promised to be home to
dinner at five; but, finding ourselves much amused, we did not keep
military time, nor find our way home till eight.
After enduring the scolding of the cook, whose dinner had got cold, we
sat down and ate like people whose appetite has been whetted by a long
walk in the open air, and eight or ten hours’ fasting.
Whatever Jeannette might say, everything she sent up was found
excellent, except a certain ragoût, which everybody declared detestable,
and hardly touched. I, however, devoured my share of the dish, without
troubling myself the least in the world about its quality. In spite of
the jests aroused by my avidity, I asked for a second relay, and would
certainly have eaten the whole dish, had not my mistress, with due
regard for my health, prevented it.
This precaution saved my life. In fact, dinner was hardly over and the
game of loto begun, when I felt most uncomfortable. I went to my room,
where atrocious pains seized upon me, and a doctor was sent for. After a
careful investigation, the doctor discovered that a powerful layer of
verdigris had formed in the stewpan in which the ragoût had been cooked
and said I was poisoned.
The consequences of this poisoning were most terrible to me: for some
time my life was despaired of, but eventually the sufferings seemed to
be modified by the gentle care bestowed on me, and I was granted some
slight relief. Strangely enough, it was not till this second phase of my
illness, when the doctor declared me out of danger, that I was haunted
by a certainty of speedy death, to which was joined an immoderate desire
to end my days in the bosom of my family. This idea--a species of
monomania--incessantly assailed me, and I soon had no other thought than
that of escaping to Blois. As I could not hope to obtain the doctor’s
permission to set out, when his most urgent advice was to take care of
myself, I determined to take leave.
At six o’clock one morning, taking advantage of a moment when I was left
to myself, I hastily dressed, went down stairs, and found a stage-coach
just starting for Blois. I entered the rotonde, in which I happened to
be the only passenger, and the coach, lightly laden as it was, soon set
off at full gallop.
The journey was a horrible martyrdom to me. I was devoured by a burning
fever, and my head seemed to be burst asunder by every jolt of the
vehicle. In my frenzy I tried to escape my agony, and yet it was
continually increasing. Unable to endure longer, I opened the door of
the compartment, and leaped, at an imminent risk of my life, on to the
high road, where I fell in a state of insensibility.
I cannot say what happened to me after my fainting fit; I can only
remember long days of vague and painful existence, that appeared of
eternal duration: I was in a raging fever; my dreams were frightful, and
I suffered from the most dreadful hallucinations. One of them was
incessantly recurring--it seemed as if my head opened like a snuff-box;
a doctor, with turned-up cuffs, and armed with an enormous pair of iron
pincers, drew from my brain roasted chesnuts, which immediately burst
like bombs, and scattered myriads of scintillations before my eyes.
This phantasmagoria gradually faded away, and the illness at length
succumbed; but my reason was so shaken that it did not avail me. I was
reduced to a mechanical existence. If I noticed anything, it seemed
veiled in a thick mist, and I could not perform any process of
reasoning. It is true that all I did notice only served to increase the
confusion of my ideas. I felt as if being shaken in a carriage, and,
yet, I was in a capital bed, and the room was exquisitely clean. How
could I help fancying I was still dreaming?
At length, a spark of intelligence was aroused in me, and the first
startling impression was produced by the sight of a man standing at my
bedside. His features were quite strange to me. Stooping over, he
affectionately urged me to swallow a draught. I obeyed; and he then
begged me to keep silent, and remain as calm as I possibly could.
Unfortunately, my present state of weakness rendered it but too easy to
follow this prescription. Still, I tried to guess who this man could be,
and consulted my memory. It was quite useless: I could remember nothing
since the moment when, yielding to frenzy, I had thrown myself out of
the diligence.