THE PHANTASMAGORIA.
THE phantasmagoria may be described as a perfected magic lantern, and
bears the same relation to its prototype that a shilling telescope
bought in the Lowther Arcade does to one of Dollond’s or Ross’s field
glasses. The position of the spectators, too, is different, being on the
other side of the scene which receives the magnified pictures, already
described when speaking of the magic lantern.
[Illustration:
FIG. 52.—The Phantasmagoria.
]
The phantasmagoria lantern is generally mounted on a stand provided with
castors so that it may be moved about at will. It consists of a box as
represented in fig. 52, inclosing a lamp with a metallic reflector, the
bundle of rays being sent through the centre of the tube containing the
slide and lenses, as before described. The chimney serves to carry off
the products of combustion generated by the lamp. In fig. 53 we have
shown the interior of the tube containing the lenses. Between this tube
and the body of the lantern there is a space within which slide the
glasses whereon are painted the figures and landscapes that are to be
thrown on the white screen. The luminous rays given off by the reflector
in the interior of the lantern pass through a plano-convex lens placed
with the flat side outwards. In front comes the double convex lens, or
object-glass, which can be moved backwards and forwards by means of a
rack and pinion. There is also a movable diaphragm, which is worked with
a couple of cords, by pulling which the aperture is made larger or
smaller at will. By moving the lantern backwards and forwards, working
the rack and pinion and the diaphragm at the same time, the view seen by
the spectator seems to advance and recede. The pictures are painted on
glass with transparent colours, the glasses being generally about five
inches in diameter. To render the illusion perfect it is necessary that
the spectator should be placed in a partially dark room, being separated
from the operator by the screen already mentioned. Everything being
ready, the spectators having but little notion of the distance of the
screen, a very small picture is shown to them first, the illumination
being reduced to a minimum by pulling the cords which act on the
diaphragm. The little picture first seen by them will appear to be
situated at an enormous distance; but as the lantern is brought almost
imperceptibly nearer to the screen, the image appears to advance towards
them in a very surprising manner, at last appearing almost as if it were
going to fall upon the spectators.
[Illustration:
FIG. 53.—The Phantascope.
]
Robertson, an English optician who was settled in Paris some fifty years
since, was one of the first to exhibit the phantasmagoria with success.
In order to obtain the best results he used a room some sixty or eighty
feet long, and twenty-four wide, which he hung entirely with black. Of
this a strip twenty-five feet long was cut off and devoted to the
manipulation of the phantasmagoria. This portion of the apartment was
separated from the spectators by a white calico screen, tightly strained
from side to side, and at first concealed from view by a black curtain.
The calico screen, which was about twenty feet square, was well soaked
in a mixture of starch and fine gum arabic, in order to render it
semi-transparent. The floor was raised about four or five feet at one
end in order that the whole of the spectators might have a free and
uninterrupted view of what was going on.
It is undoubtedly to Robertson that we owe most of the improvements in
the phantasmagoria. The success of his performances in Paris during the
first Revolution has never been equalled by any similar exhibition. The
enthusiasm excited amongst the Parisian public at the time surpassed
that awakened even by Cagliostro and Mesmer. The spirit which guided
Robertson in exhibiting these wonders was totally opposed to that which
animated the two charlatans just mentioned. Robertson, unlike them,
sought to spread the notion that there was nothing occult or
supernatural in the marvels he exhibited, but that they resulted simply
from the application of a few simple laws of optics. We shall presently
give an account of one these famous _séances_, which were powerful
enough to distract the attention of the people of that day from the
stormy events that were going on around them; but we will first allow
our author to tell the story of his experiments in optics in his own
words.
“From my very earliest infancy,” he says in his Memoirs, “my lively and
passionate imagination caused me to be dominated over by the marvellous
in a very powerful manner. Anything that seemed to go beyond nature in
any way, excited in me an ardour which then appeared to me capable of
overcoming all obstacles in order to realize the effects I had
conceived. Father Kircher, it was said, believed that the magic lantern
was the invention of the Evil One. All the worse for Father Kircher, who
was gifted with a great intellect, and many persons were tempted to say
that he might possibly have some cause for believing in the diabolical
origin of a simple optical instrument. But as the writer who has thus
reproached Father Kircher with too much credulity has not cited those
passages of the work in which this statement may be found, I did not
think seriously of the matter. Who has not in his younger days believed
in witches, hobgoblins, and compacts with the devil? I know I did, and
worse; for I imagined and fully believed that an innocent old woman who
was a neighbour of ours, really had dealings with Lucifer, as every one
asserted. I even went so far as to envy her the power of conferring with
the Evil One, and once shut myself up in my room with an unhappy live
cock, whose head I cut off in the most barbarous manner, having heard
that that was the most approved manner of summoning into one’s presence
the great head of all the demons. I waited for him several hours,
calling on him to appear, threatening to deny his existence for the
future if he did not appear, but all to no purpose. The books on magic
and the black art that I had read had completely turned my head. I
believed everything that was in them, and I desired ardently to perform
the wonders they described, even with the aid of the devil. The _Magia
Naturalis_ of Porta, and the _Recreations_ of Midorge, which treated
simply of natural phenomena, had no effect upon me, but I was at last
obliged to fall back on the principles involved in them, in order to
create the diabolical appearances I had sought after in what I
considered a truly supernatural manner, until at, last my dwelling
became a true Pandemonium.
“It is only our grandmothers, it has been said for a long time, who
believe in magic, witches, and supernatural appearances; but the
statement is hardly true, seeing how easily the country people fall a
prey to the first cheat who chooses to invest himself with supernatural
powers. We have sufficiently ridiculed the superstitions of the
ancients, and numberless instances may be adduced which are a shame to
their intelligence, and which gives, so to speak, a denial to the
stories we have heard of their high state of civilization. But I
believe, if we were to make a collection of all the stories of ghosts,
of mysterious appearances, of communications between the living and the
departed, of the discoveries of hidden treasures, &c., &c., which have
taken place even since the Revolution, before whose power so many dark
things have been brought to light, the collection would hardly be less
bulky than that of the ancient superstitions now happily passed away.”
Robertson then goes on to take great credit to himself for showing the
world that all the superstitions concerning ghosts, spectral
appearances, and other illusions of a similar nature, were to be easily
accomplished, by simply studying natural laws. He appears first to have
begun his optical experiments with the solar microscope, and we hear of
his landlord taking an action against him to recover damages for having
pierced the doors of his rooms with innumerable holes. He studied the
subject both theoretically and practically for many years, in company
with his friend Villette, and at last announced a public _séance_ at the
Pavillon de l’Echiquier at Paris. A multitude of advertisements and
prospectuses, written in the high-flown style of the time, were issued,
and distributed throughout the city. The newspapers of the day are full
of accounts of the extraordinary impression made on the minds of the
Parisians by Robertson’s wonderful exhibition. The old-fashioned word
magic lantern was quite abandoned, and the new and high sounding Greek
appellation, “phantasmagoria,” was heard issuing from every one’s mouth.
There is an amusing account given of Robertson’s exhibition in one of
the contemporary journals, written by Poultier, one of the
representatives of the people. He says: “A decemvir of the republic has
said that the dead return no more, but go to Robertson’s exhibition and
you will soon be convinced of the contrary, for you will see the dead
returning to life in crowds. Robertson calls forth phantoms, and
commands legions of spectres. In a well-lighted apartment in the
Pavillon de l’Echiquier I found myself seated a few evenings since, with
some sixty or seventy people. At seven o’clock a pale thin man entered
the room where we were sitting, and having extinguished the candles he
said: ‘Citizens and gentlemen, I am not one of those adventurers and
impudent swindlers who promise more than they can perform. I have
assured the public in the _Journal de Paris_ that I can bring the dead
to life, and I shall do so. Those of the company who desire to see the
apparitions of those who were dear to them, but who have passed away
from this life by sickness or otherwise, have only to speak, and I shall
obey their commands.’ There was a moment’s silence, and a haggard
looking man, with dishevelled hair and sorrowful eyes, rose in the midst
of the assemblage and exclaimed, ‘As I have been unable in an official
journal to re-establish the worship of Marat, I should at least be glad
to see his shadow.’ Robertson immediately threw upon a brasier
containing lighted coals, two glasses of blood, a bottle of vitriol, a
few drops of aquafortis, and two numbers of the _Journal des Hommes
Libres_, and there instantly appeared in the midst of the smoke caused
by the burning of these substances, a hideous livid phantom armed with a
dagger and wearing a red cap of liberty. The man at whose wish the
phantom had been evoked seemed to recognise Marat, and rushed forward to
embrace the vision, but the ghost made a frightful grimace and
disappeared. A young man next asked to see the phantom of a young lady
whom he had tenderly loved, and whose portrait he showed to the worker
of all these marvels. Robertson threw on the brasier a few sparrow’s
feathers, a grain or two of phosphorus, and a dozen butterflies. A
beautiful woman, with her bosom uncovered and her hair floating about
her, soon appeared, and smiled on the young man with the most tender
regard and sorrow. A grave-looking individual sitting close by me
suddenly exclaimed ‘Heavens! it’s my wife come to life again,’ and he
rushed from the room, apparently fearing that what he saw was not a
phantom.
A Swiss asked to see the shade of William Tell. The phantom of the great
archer was evoked with apparently as much ease as the others. Delille,
who was present, called for Virgil, whose Georgics he had lately
translated. The poet appeared, having in his hand a laurel crown, which
he held out to his French commentator. Many other equally extraordinary
apparitions were shown at the will of various individuals in the
audience, and towards the end of the evening Robertson showed his
judgment, and under very difficult circumstances. A royalist who was
present asked for the phantom of Louis XVI., the appearance of which
would no doubt have raised a tumult amongst so many red-hot Republicans,
had not Robertson replied that before the 18th Fructidor, the day on
which the French republic declared that royalty was abolished for ever,
he had had a receipt for bringing dead kings to life again, but that
same day he lost it, and feared that he should never recover it again.
The answer was said to have been whispered to Robertson by his friend
Ponthieu, who saw the difficulty he was in. It was supposed that the
demand was prompted by an agent of the police, who for some cause had a
spite against Robertson. In any case the affair made such a noise that
the next day the exhibition was prohibited by those in authority, and
seals were placed upon the optician’s boxes and papers. The exhibition
was, however, afterwards allowed to be continued, and was so successful
that it had to be transferred to the old Capuchin convent near the Place
Vendôme.
The whole of Paris rang with eulogiums upon Robertson’s wonderful
exhibition at the Capuchin Convent. He had purposely chosen the
abandoned chapel, which was in the middle of a vast cloister crowded
with tombs and funereal tablets. It was approached by a series of dark
passages, decorated with weird and mysterious paintings, and the very
door was covered with hieroglyphics. The chapel itself was hung with
black, and was feebly illuminated by a single sepulchral lamp. The whole
assembly involuntarily remained grave and silent, and it was only when
the first preparations for the exhibition were made, that the audience
broke into a low murmur. Robertson commenced with an address on sorcery,
magicians, witches, ghosts, and phantoms, and, having worked the
spectators up to the proper pitch, he suddenly extinguished the single
antique lamp already mentioned, plunging the assembly into perfect
darkness. Then there arose a storm of rain, wind, thunder, and
lightning. The bells tolled lugubriously as if summoning the dead from
their tombs beneath the feet of those present; the wind whistled
mournfully, the rain fell in torrents, the thunder rolled, and the
lightnings flashed. But suddenly above all this confusion were heard the
sweet notes of a harmonium, and in the far-off distance the sky was seen
clearing gradually. A luminous point then made its appearance in the
midst of the clouds, which gradually became the figure of a man,
increasing in size every instant, until it seemed to be about to
precipitate itself on to the spectators. A man in the front row was so
frightened, that he uttered a scream of terror, when the phantom
instantly disappeared. A series of spectres then issued suddenly from a
cave. The shades of great men crowded together round a boat floating on
a black and sluggish river, which the spectators had no difficulty in
identifying as the Styx. The shadows gradually disappeared in the
distance, getting smaller and smaller until they became invisible.
Robertson was extremely careful in all his entertainments to flatter the
popular ideas of the day. For instance, one of his most famous
exhibitions consisted in a picture of a tomb, in the middle of which
Robespierre issued. The figure, as usual, walked towards the spectators;
but when apparently within a few yards of them, it was struck down by
lightning. Voltaire, Lavoisier, Rousseau, and other popular favourites
then appeared on the scene, and disappeared again in the usual manner.
Robertson generally ended his entertainment with an address something
like the following:—
“We have now seen together the wonderful mysteries of the
phantasmagoria. I have unveiled to you the secrets of the
priests of Memphis. I have shown you every mystery of optical
science; you have witnessed scenes that in the ages of credulity
would have been considered supernatural. You have, perhaps, many
of you, laughed at what I have shown you, and the gentler
portion of my audience have possibly been terrified at many of
my phantoms; but I can assure you, whoever you may be, powerful
or weak, strong or feeble, believers or atheists, that there is
but one truly terrible spectacle—the fate which is reserved for
us all;”
and at that instant a grisly skeleton was seen standing in the middle of
the hall (fig. 54).
[Illustration:
FIG. 54.—Phantasmagoria (ROBERTSON).
]
Even in those unbelieving days, when scepticism of every sort was riding
rough-shod over the French people, Robertson had the greatest difficulty
in disclaiming all approach to the possession of supernatural powers.
Day after day he received applications from all quarters to reveal the
secrets of the past, present, and future, to describe events that were
passing in other countries; and it frequently happened, that after his
entertainments, he would be asked by several members of his auditory to
assist them in recovering property that had been lost or stolen from
them. In the latter kind of cases he generally used to adopt the
excellent plan of sending his would-be clients to the nearest
police-office.
------------------------------------------------------------------------