This programme is of such historical value that I reproduce it in full. It will show that this particular mechanical trick is by no means the most important feature of Garnerin’s répertoire. In fact his fame is based on his ballooning, and he is said to have been the inventor of the parachute. The ascension of the nocturnal balloon, also scheduled on this programme, is an imitation of the one which Garnerin arranged in honor of Bonaparte’s coronation in 1805. On that occasion the balloon started at Paris and descended in Rome, a distance of five hundred miles which was covered in twenty-two hours.
Garnerin was a contemporary of both Pinetti and Robertson and was with them in Russia when Pinetti dissipated his fortune in balloon experiments. In their correspondence, both Pinetti and Robertson spoke slightingly of Garnerin, but the Frenchman’s programmes all indicate that he was not only a successful aëronaut, but a magician who could present a diverting entertainment.
In 1816 the elder Gyngell featured the trick on his programmes as “The Russian Inn,” and in 1823 he changed it to “The Confectioner’s Shop.” These programmes are reproduced as the most convincing evidence against the claims of Robert-Houdin.
The Gyngell family is one of the most interesting in the history of magic. The Christian name of the founder of the family I have never been able to ascertain, though programmes give the initial as G. He was celebrated as a Bartholomew Fair conjurer. His career started about 1788, and his contemporaries were Lane, Boaz, Ball, Jonas, Breslaw, and Flocton. At one time Gyngell and Flocton worked together, and Thomas Frost in his book, “The Lives of Conjurers,” claims that at Flocton’s death Gyngell received a portion of the former’s wealth.
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The original Gyngell, a portrait reproduced from the book on magic written by this famous Bartholomew Fair conjurer. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
The original Gyngell, a portrait reproduced from the book
on magic written by this famous Bartholomew Fair conjurer. From the
Harry Houdini Collection.
Associated with him in his performances were his brother, two sons, and a daughter. The latter was not only a clever rope-dancer but a musician of more than ordinary ability and she often constituted the entire “orchestra.”
On Gyngell’s programme offered in 1827 he proves himself a great showman, for he features Herr Schmidt’s “Mechanical Automatons, Phantasmagoria, a laughing sketch entitled Wholesale Blunders, his son on the flying wire, during which he would throw a somersault through a balloon of real fire, a broadsword dance by Miss Louise and Master Gyngell, and Miss Louise’s performance on the tight rope, clowned by Master Lionel.”
On a programme used in Hull, October 29th, 1827, a lottery was featured as follows: “On which occasion the first hundred persons paying for the gallery will be entitled by ticket to a chance of a Fat Goose, and the same number in the pit to have the same chance for a fat turkey. To be drawn for on the stage, in the same manner as the State Lottery.”
According to Thomas Frost, Gyngell died in 1833 and was buried in the Parish Church, Camberwell. His children, however, continued the work so excellently planned by their father.
The programmes herewith reproduced I purchased from Henry Evanion, who secured them directly from the last of the Gyngell family, as the accompanying letter, now a part of my collection, will show:
Dover, February 10th, 1867.
Mr. Evanion:
Dear Sir—Yours of the 5th inst. I received just as I was leaving Folkestown, and it was forwarded from Guilford.
I am sorry I have not one of my old bills with me, neither do I think any of my family could find one at home. I may have some among my old conjuring things, and when I return to Guilford I will look them over and send you what I can find. I was sorry I was not at home when you were in Guilford, for I feel much pleasure in meeting a responsible professional. I am not certain when I shall return, but most likely not for six weeks. I will keep your address; so should you change your residence, write to me about that time.
I was looking over some old papers some time last summer, and found a bill of my father’s, nearly 60 years ago, when his great trick was cutting off the cock’s head and restoring it to life again. And a great wonder it was considered and brought crowded rooms.
I was Master Gyngell, the wonderful performer on the slack wire; and now in my 71st year I am lecturer, pyrotechnist, and high-rope walker, for I did that last summer. My life has been a simple one of ups and downs.
I am, dear sir, yours truly,
J. D. G. Gyngell.
The signature of this letter, “J. D. G. Gyngell,” clears up considerable uncertainty regarding the names of the two Gyngell sons. At times the clever young tight-rope performer has been spoken of as Joseph, and at others as Gellini. It is quite probable that the two names were really part of one, and the full baptismal name was “Joseph D. Gellini.” It was as Gellini Gyngell that he met Henry Evanion at Deal, February 20th, 1862, when the latter was performing as a magician at the Deal and Walmer Institute, while Gellini Gyngell gave an exhibition of fireworks and a magic-lantern display on the South Esplanade. A fine notice of both performances was published in the Deal Telegram of February 23d, when the hope was expressed that Gyngell’s collection, taken among those who enjoyed his outdoor performance, repaid him for his admirable entertainment. Gyngell was landlord of the Bowling Green Tavern at this time, and travelled as an entertainer only at intervals.
The next appearance of the trick is in a book published by M. Henry, a ventriloquist, who played London and the provinces from 1820 to 1828. During an engagement at the Adelphia Theatre, London, which according to the programme was about 1822, Henry published a book entitled “Conversazione; or, Mirth and Marvels,” in which he interspersed witty conversation with descriptions of his various tricks. On page 11 he thus describes the automaton under consideration:
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Reproduction of a rare old colored lithograph in three sections. This section represents Gyngell. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Reproduction of a rare old colored lithograph in three
sections. This section represents Gyngell. From the Harry Houdini
Collection.
“Illusion Third. A curious mechanical trick; an inn, from which issues the hostess for orders, upon receiving which, she returns into the inn and brings out the various liquors as called for by the audience, and at last waiting for the money, which, having received, goes in and shuts the door. Mr. Henry says he has produced the inn in preference to palaces, though more stupendous and magnificent, thinking, as a certain author wrote, the heartiest welcome is to be found at the inn.”
In the same year Henry issued a challenge open to the whole world, defying any performer to equal his manipulation of the cup and ball trick. He also employed as an adjunct of his conjuring performances Signor de Fedori of Rome, an armless wonder, who used his feet to play the drum, violin, and triangle.
A contemporary of Henry was Charles, the great ventriloquist, who varied his performance as did all ventriloquists of his day, by presenting “Philosophical and Mechanical Experiments” to make up a two-hour-and-a-half performance. Charles made several tours of the English provinces, and played in London at intervals. On a London programme which is undated, but which announces M. Charles as playing at Mr. Wigley’s Large Room, Spring Gardens, the second automaton on his list is described as “The Russian Inn, out of which comes a little Woman and brings the Liquor demanded for.” Two of his programmes dated Theatre Royal, Hull, April, 1829, now in my collection, carry a pathetic foot-note written in the handwriting of the collector through whom they came into my possession: “The audiences on both the evenings were extremely small, and the money was refunded.”
By referring to the chapter on the writing and drawing figure, Chapter III, Page 113, a Schmidt programme of 1827 will be found, in which he features “The Enchanted Dutch Coffee-House, an elegant little building. On the traveller ringing the bell, the door opens, the hostess attends and provides him with any liquor he may call for.”
Schmidt seems to have confined his exhibitions to London and the provinces and was often connected with other magicians, including Gyngell and Buck. The latter was an English conjurer, best known as the man who was horribly injured when presenting “The Gun Delusion.” This consisted of having a marked bullet shot at the performer, who caught it between his teeth on a plate, or on the point of a needle or knife. Some miscreant loaded the gun with metal after Buck had it prepared for the trick, and the unfortunate performer’s right cheek was literally shot away.
In 1828 Jules de Rovere, a French conjurer, whose fame rests principally on the fact that he coined the new title “prestidigitator,” appeared at the Haymarket Theatre, London, and also toured the English provinces. A clipping from the Oxford Herald of that year includes this description of his automaton: “One of the clowns vanishes from the box, and instantly at the top of the hall a little lady, in a little hotel brilliantly illuminated, gives out wines and liquors to them who ask for them, without any apparent communication with the artiste, and yet the lady is only six inches high.”
In the late 30’s Rovere made his headquarters in Paris, and there he and Robert-Houdin met. The latter refers to this meeting on page 153 of his “Memoirs,” when writing of the misfortunes which had overtaken Father Roujol, whose shop had once been headquarters for conjurers: “Still I had the luck to form here the acquaintance of Jules de Rovere, the first to employ a title now generally given to fashionable conjurers.”
And after Rovere, Phillippe, who is by far the most important presenter of the Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal, as bearing upon Robert-Houdin’s claims.
For Phillippe’s early history we must depend largely upon Robert-Houdin’s “Memoirs.” According to these, Phillippe started life as a confectioner or maker of sweets, and his real name was Phillippe Talon. According to an article published in L’Illusionniste in January, 1902, he was born in Alias, near Nîmes, December 25th, 1802, and died in Bokhara, Turkey, June 27th, 1878.
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Reproduction of pastel portrait of Phillippe. Only known likeness of the conjurer in existence. Made for him by a Vienna artist. Original now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Reproduction of pastel portrait of Phillippe. Only known
likeness of the conjurer in existence. Made for him by a Vienna artist.
Original now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Like many a genius and successful man, his early history was written in a minor key. According to Robert-Houdin his sweets did not catch the Parisian fancy, and he went to London, where at that time French bonbons were in high favor. But for some reason he failed in London, and went on to Aberdeen, Scotland, where he was very soon reduced to sore straits. In his hour of extremity his cleverness saved the day. In Aberdeen at the same time was a company of actors almost as unfortunate as himself. They were presenting a pantomime which the public refused to patronize. The young confectioner approached the manager of the pantomime and suggested that they join forces. In addition to the regular admission to the pantomime each patron was to pay sixpence and receive in return a paper of mixed sugar plums and a lottery ticket by which he might gain the first prize of the value of five pounds. In addition, Talon promised not only to provide the sweets free of cost to the management, but to present a new and startling feature at the close of the performance.
The novel announcement crowded the house, the pantomime and the bonbons alike found favor, but the significant feature of the performance was young Talon’s appearance in the finale in the rôle of “Punch,” for which he was admirably made up. He executed an eccentric dance, at the finish of which he pretended to fall and injure himself. In a faint voice he demanded pills to relieve his pain, and a fellow-actor brought on pills of such enormous size that the audience stopped sympathizing with the actor and began to laugh. But the pills all disappeared down the dancer’s throat, for Talon was not only an able confectioner and an agile dancer, but a sleight-of-hand performer. From that hour he exchanged the spoon of the confectioner for the wand of the magician. The fortunes of both the pantomime and Phillippe, as he now called himself, improved. Quite probably he remained with the pantomime company until the close of the season and then struck out as an independent performer.
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Poster used by Phillippe during his engagement at the Strand Theatre, London, 1845-46. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Poster used by Phillippe during his engagement at the
Strand Theatre, London, 1845-46. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Another story which is gleaned from a biography of John Henry Anderson, the Wizard of the North, tells how Phillippe started his career as a pastry cook in the household of one Lord Panmure, and I quote this literally from the Anderson book, because I believe it to be truthful, as material gathered from Anderson literature has proved to be:
“It was at this time that he came in contact with a person who afterward, under the designation of M. Phillippe, became celebrated in France as a magician. Phillipee (for so was he named in Scotland) was originally a cook in the services of the late Lord Panmure. Leaving that employment, he settled down and remained for a number of years in Aberdeen. He heard of the fame of the youthful magician, was induced to visit his ‘temple,’ and was struck with his performances; and having made the acquaintance of Mr. Anderson, he solicited from him and obtained an insight into his profession, and fac-similes of his then humble apparatus. Phillippe improved to such a degree upon the knowledge he thus acquired that, leaving England for France, he earned the reputation of being one of the most accomplished magicians ever seen in the country.”
The date of his initial performance is not known, but he must have remained in Scotland, perfecting his act, for the earliest Phillippe programme in my collection is dated February 3d, 1837, when he opened at Waterloo Rooms, Edinburgh, and announced:
“The high character which Mons. Phillippe has obtained from the Aberdeen, Glasgow, Greenock and Paisley Press, being the only four towns in Britain where he has made his appearance, is a sufficient guarantee to procure him a visit from the inhabitants of this enlightened Metropolis, where talent had always been supported when actually deserved.”
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Phillippe and his Scotch assistant, Domingo. The latter became famous as a magician under the name of Macallister, introducing in America Phillippe’s gift show. From a lithograph in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Phillippe and his Scotch assistant, Domingo. The latter
became famous as a magician under the name of Macallister, introducing
in America Phillippe’s gift show. From a lithograph in the Harry Houdini
Collection.
Evidently, however, Phillippe made rapid progress, for a programme dated Saturday, April 21st, 1838, shows that his last daytime or matinée performance in Waterloo Rooms was given under the patronage of such members of the nobility as the Right Honorable Lady Gifford, the Right Honorable Lady H. Stuart Forbes, etc. In an Edinburgh programme, dated probably 1837, he is shown as performing his tricks, clad in peculiar evening clothes, knickerbockers and waistcoat matching, with a mere suggestion of the swallow-tail coat. In his 1838 bill he is shown clad in the flowing robes of the old-time magician, and he advertises the Chinese tricks, notably the gold-fish trick, which demanded voluminous draperies.
According to Robert-Houdin, Phillippe built a small wooden theatre in Glasgow. Humble as this building was, however, it brought a significant factor into Phillippe’s life. This was a young bricklayer named Andrew Macallister who had a natural genius for tricks and models, and who became Phillippe’s apprentice, later appearing as Domingo, his assistant on the stage, wearing black make-up.
In either Edinburgh or Dublin Phillippe met the Chinese juggler or conjurer who taught him the gold-fish trick and the secret of the Chinese rings.
Armed with these two striking tricks, Phillippe determined to satisfy his yearning to return to his native land, and in 1841 he appeared at the Salle Montesquieu, Paris. Later, the Bonne-Nouvelle, a temple of magic, was opened for Phillippe in Paris, and there he enjoyed the brilliant run to which Robert-Houdin refers in his “Memoirs.”
Phillippe was an indefatigable worker and traveller, and one brilliant engagement followed another. During the 40’s he appeared, according to my collection of programmes, all over Continental Europe, and in most of his programmes this paragraph is featured:
“Part III.
“An unexpected present at once gratuitous and laughable, composed of twelve prizes, nine lucky and three unfortunate, in which the general public will participate.”
He also continued to distribute bonbons from an inexhaustible source, probably a cornucopia, calling this trick “a new system of making sweetmeats, or Le Confiseur Moderne.”
During his first engagement in Vienna he had painted for advertising purposes a pastel portrait, showing him clad in his magician’s robes at the finale of the gold-fish trick. From this picture his later cuts were made. By some mistake he left the original pastel in Vienna, where I bought it at a special sale for my collection. It remains an exquisite piece of color work, even at this day. So far it is the only real likeness of Phillippe I have been able to unearth.
In 1845-46 he was at the height of his popularity in London, where he had a tremendous run. In June, 1845, we find him playing at the St. James Theatre, under Mitchell’s direction, and on September 29th, under his own management, he moves to the Strand, where he is still found in January of 1846. During all this time he featured The Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal under the title of “Le Confiseur Galant.”
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1. Cuisine de Parafaragamus; 2. Le Chapelier de 1943; 3. Le Paon magique; 4. La Bouteille enchantée; 5. La Chaîne hydonstaine; 6. La Tête infernale; 7. Le Chapeau merveilleux; 8. L’Arlequin savant; 9. Le Confiseur galant et le Liquoriste impromptu; 10. Le Bassin de Neptune ou les poissons d’or et la ménagerie prodigieuse; 11. Éclairage de tout le théâtre improvisé par un coup de pistolet. Reproduction of a large lithograph showing all of Phillippe’s tricks, including “Le Confiseur Galant” scheduled as No. 9. From the original lithograph dated 1842 now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
1. Cuisine de Parafaragamus; 2. Le Chapelier de 1943; 3.
Le Paon magique; 4. La Bouteille enchantée; 5. La Chaîne hydonstaine; 6.
La Tête infernale; 7. Le Chapeau merveilleux; 8. L’Arlequin savant; 9.
Le Confiseur galant et le Liquoriste impromptu; 10. Le Bassin de Neptune
ou les poissons d’or et la ménagerie prodigieuse; 11. Éclairage de tout
le théâtre improvisé par un coup de pistolet.
Reproduction of a large lithograph showing all of Phillippe’s tricks,
including “Le Confiseur Galant” scheduled as No. 9. From the original
lithograph dated 1842 now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
As proofs that Phillippe used the pastry-cook trick both before and during Robert-Houdin’s career as a magician, I offer several programmes containing accurate descriptions of the automaton, and also a page illustration from a current publication dated Paris, 1843, which shows the confectioner or pastry-cook standing in the doorway of his house, while the key explaining the various tricks reads: “No. 9. Le Confiseur galant et le Liquoriste impromptu.”
Robert-Houdin devotes nearly an entire chapter to the history of Phillippe and a description of his tricks and automata, yet curiously forgets to mention the pastry cook, which he later claims as his own invention.
Ernest Basch, formerly of Basch Brothers, conjurers, and the richest manufacturer of illusions in the world, claims that the original trick is now in his possession. Herr Basch is located in Hanover, Germany, where he builds large illusions only. The wonderful mechanical house passed to Basch by a bequest on the death of Baron von Sandhovel, a wealthy resident of Amsterdam, Holland. Von Sandhovel had bought the trick from the heirs of Robert-Houdin on the death of the latter, because he believed it to be the brain and handwork of Opre, a Dutch mechanician of great talent. Ernest Basch shares this belief, and with other well-read conjurers thinks that Opre was Robert-Houdin’s assistant and built most of his automata, including The Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal, The Windmill or Dutch Inn, Auriel and Debureau, The French Gymnasts, The Harlequin, and The Chausseur.
Opre was a man of ability, but lacked presence and personality properly to present his inventions. So far I have found his name in three places only: On the frontispiece of a Dutch book on magic, published in Amsterdam; in Ernest Basch’s correspondence about conjurers; and on page 77 of Robert-Houdin’s “Memoirs,” when he speaks of Opre as the maker of the Harlequin figure which Torrini asked Robert-Houdin to repair during their travels.
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Ernest Basch and “Le Confiseur Galant,” which he claims is the original Robert-Houdin “Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal.” From a photograph in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Ernest Basch and “Le Confiseur Galant,” which he claims
is the original Robert-Houdin “Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal.” From a
photograph in the Harry Houdini Collection.
With such convincing proof, some of which was contemporary, that other men had exhibited The Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal in its identical or slightly different guise, it was daring indeed of Robert-Houdin to claim it as his own invention.
The most direct information regarding Opre comes through that eminent family of conjurers known as the Bambergs of Holland. At this writing, “Papa” (David) Bamberg, of the fourth generation, is prominent on the Dutch stage, and his son Tobias David, known as Okito, of the fifth generation, is a cosmopolitan magician, presenting a Chinese act.
According to the family history, traceable by means of handbills, programmes, and personal correspondence, the original Bamberg (Eliazar) had a vaulting figure in his collection of automata in 1790, fifty years before Robert-Houdin became a professional entertainer. This figure was made by Opre, to whom all conjurers of that time looked for automata and apparatus. David Leendert Bamberg, of the second generation, who also had the vaulting figure, was the intimate friend and confidant of Opre and was authority for the statement that Opre’s son sold in Paris the various automata made by his father, which later Robert-Houdin claimed as his own invention. It may be noted that Robert-Houdin never invented a single automaton after he went on the stage in 1845, and as Opre died in 1846, the coincidence is nothing if not significant.
TO trace here the history of three very common tricks claimed by Robert-Houdin as his own inventions would be sheer waste of time, if the exposure did not prove beyond doubt that in announcing the various tricks of his répertoire as the output of his own brain he was not only flagrant and unscrupulous, but he did not even give his readers credit for enough intelligence to recognize tricks performed repeatedly by his predecessors whom they had seen. Not satisfied with purloining tricks so important that one or two would have been sufficient to establish the reputation of any conjurer or inventor, he must needs lay claim to having invented tricks long the property of mountebanks as well as reputable magicians.
The tricks referred to are the obedient card, the cabalistic clock, and the automaton known as Diavolo Antonio or Le Voltigeur au Trapèze.
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Card trick as featured by Anderson in 1836-37. From a poster in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Card trick as featured by Anderson in 1836-37. From a
poster in the Harry Houdini Collection.
The obedient-card trick, mentioned on page 245 of the American edition of his “Memoirs,” as “a novel experiment invented by M. Robert-Houdin,” can be found on the programme of every magician who ever laid claim to dexterity of hand. Whether they accomplished the effect by clock-work or with a black silk thread or a human hair, the result was one and the same. It has also been worked by using a fine thread with a piece of wax at the end. The wax is fastened to the card, and the thread draws it up. The simplest method of all is to place the thread over and under the cards, weaving it in and out as it were, and then, by pulling the thread, to bring the different cards selected into view.
So common was the trick that its description was written in every work on magic published from 1784 to the date of Robert-Houdin’s first appearance, and in at least one volume printed as early as 1635. The majority of French encyclopædias described the trick and exposed it according to one method or another, and Robert-Houdin admits having been a great reader of encyclopædias.
The trick first appears in print in various editions of “Hocus Pocus,” twenty in all, starting with 1635. The majority contain feats with cards, showing how to bring them up or out of a pack with a black thread, a hair spring, or an elastic.
In 1772 the rising-card trick was shown in Guyot’s “Physical and Mathematical Recreations,” also in the Dutch or Holland translations of the same work. In 1791 it was minutely explained by Hofrath von Eckartshausen, who wrote five different books on the subject of magic. The fourth, being devoted principally to the art of the conjurer, was entitled “Die Gauckeltasche, oder vollständiger Unterricht in Taschenspieler u. s. w.,” which translated means “The Conjurer’s Pocket or Thorough Instructions in the Art of Conjuring.” The title was due to the fact that in olden days conjurers worked with the aid of a large outside pocket. The five books, published under the general title of “Aufschlüsse zur Magie,” bear date of Munich, Germany.
On page 138 of the third edition of Gale’s “Cabinet of Knowledge,” published in London in 1800, will be found a description of the rising-card trick as done with pin and thread, and the same book shows how it is accomplished with wax and a hair. This book seems to have been compiled from Philip Breslaw’s work on magic, “The Last Legacy,” published in 1782. Benton, who published the English edition of Decremps’ famous work on magic, exposing Pinetti’s répertoire, also described the trick. “Natural Magic,” by Astley, the circus man, and Hooper’s “Recreations,” in four volumes, published in 1784, expose the same trick.
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Conjurer Unmasked OR the Art of Sleight of hand Reproduction of frontispiece in Breslaw’s book on magic, “The Last Legacy,” published in 1782. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Reproduction of frontispiece in Breslaw’s book on magic, “The Last
Legacy,” published in 1782. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
As to magicians who performed the trick, their names are legion, and only a few of the most prominent conjurers will be mentioned in this connection.
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J. H. Anderson’s birth place as drawn by him from memory. The following is written under the sketch in his own handwriting: “A rough sketch of the farm house called ‘Red Stanes,’ on the estate of Craigmyle, Parish of Kincardine O’Neil, Aberdeenshire. The house was built by my grandfather, John Robertson, in the year 1796, and in it I was born on the 15th day of July, 1814. John Henry Anderson.” Photographed from the original now in the possession of Mrs. Leona A. Anderson, by the author.
J. H. Anderson’s birth place as drawn by him from memory.
The following is written under the sketch in his own handwriting: “A
rough sketch of the farm house called ‘Red Stanes,’ on the estate of
Craigmyle, Parish of Kincardine O’Neil, Aberdeenshire. The house was
built by my grandfather, John Robertson, in the year 1796, and in it I
was born on the 15th day of July, 1814. John Henry Anderson.”
Photographed from the original now in the possession of Mrs. Leona A.
Anderson, by the author.
The man who obtained the best effects with this trick was John Henry Anderson, who startled the world of magic and amusements by his audacity, in 1836, nine years before Robert-Houdin trod the stage as a professional entertainer.
Anderson was born in Kincardine, Scotland, in 1814, and started his professional career as an actor. He must have been a very poor one, too, for he states that he was once complimented by a manager for having brought bad acting to the height of perfection.
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John Henry Anderson, wife and son, from a rare photograph taken in 1847 or 1848. Said to be an especially good likeness of Mrs. Anderson and the only one extant. Photograph loaned by Mrs. Leona A. Anderson, daughter-in-law of the “Wizard of the North."
John Henry Anderson, wife and son, from a rare photograph
taken in 1847 or 1848. Said to be an especially good likeness of Mrs.
Anderson and the only one extant. Photograph loaned by Mrs. Leona A.
Anderson, daughter-in-law of the “Wizard of the North."
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Very rare poster of 1838 in which John Henry Anderson is billed as “The Great Magician.” From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Very rare poster of 1838 in which John Henry Anderson is
billed as “The Great Magician.” From the Harry Houdini Collection.
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Cover design of Anderson’s book, exposing the Davenport Brothers; now a very rare book. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Cover design of Anderson’s book, exposing the Davenport Brothers; now a very rare book. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Cover design of Anderson’s book, exposing the Davenport
Brothers; now a very rare book. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Anderson was first known as the Caledonian magician, then assumed the title of the Wizard of the North, which he said was bestowed on him by Sir Walter Scott. Thomas Frost belittles this statement, on the grounds that Scott was stricken with paralysis in 1830. However, Anderson became famous in 1829, so he should be given the benefit of the doubt. He was the greatest advertiser that the world of magic has ever known, and he left nothing undone that might boom attendance at his performances. He started newspapers, gave masked balls, and donated thousands of dollars to charities. He was known in every city of the world, and, when so inclined, built his own theatres. He sold books on magic during his own performances, and would sell any trick he presented for a nominal sum. His most unique advertising dodge was to offer $500 in gold as prizes for the best conundrums written by spectators during his performances. To make this scheme more effective, he carried with him his own printing-press and set it up back of the scenes. While the performance was under way, the conundrums handed in by the spectators were printed, and, after the performance, any one might buy a sheet of the questions and puns at the door. As every one naturally wanted to see his conundrum in print, Anderson sold millions of these bits of paper. In 1852, while playing at Metropolitan Hall, New York City, he advertised his conundrum contest and sold his book of tricks, etc., and such notables as Jenny Lind and General Kossuth entered conundrums.
He was among the first performers to expose the Davenport Brothers, whose spiritualistic tricks and rope-tying had astonished America. Directly on witnessing a performance and solving their methods, Anderson hurried back to England and exposed the tricks.
To sum up his history, he stands unique in the annals of magic as a doer of daring things. He rushed into print on the slightest pretext, was a hard fighter with his rivals and aired his quarrels in the press, and he was a game loser when trouble came his way. Not a brilliant actor or performer, he yet had the gift of securing excellent effects in his mise en scène. He made and lost several fortunes, generally recouping as quickly as he lost. He was burned out several times, the most notable fire being that of Covent Garden, London, in 1856. He was liked in spite of his eccentricities, but when he died, February 3d, 1874, his fortune was small.
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Anderson billing of 1838, featuring obedient cards as “Napoleon’s Trick.” From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Anderson billing of 1838, featuring obedient cards as
“Napoleon’s Trick.” From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Anderson had numerous imitators, including M. Jacobs, “Barney” Eagle, and E. W. Young, all of whom used the rising-or obedient-card trick. They copied not only his tricks, but the very names he had used and the style of his billing. All three of these men were professional magicians before Robert-Houdin appeared, and Anderson was his very active contemporary.
A Jacobs bill is here reproduced, showing the card trick featured among other attractions. The lithograph of Jacobs used in this connection is an actual likeness and I believe it to be as rare as it is timely.
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Lithograph used by E. W. Young, who copied all of John Henry Anderson’s billing and featured the obedient-card trick. This setting shows how cumbersome was the apparatus employed by magicians before Wiljalba Frikell proved that he could score with apparently no apparatus. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Lithograph used by E. W. Young, who copied all of John
Henry Anderson’s billing and featured the obedient-card trick. This
setting shows how cumbersome was the apparatus employed by magicians
before Wiljalba Frikell proved that he could score with apparently no
apparatus. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
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Frontispiece from Eagle’s book, in which he exposes Anderson’s gun delusion. Said by Henry Evanion, who knew Eagle, to be a fine likeness. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Frontispiece from Eagle’s book, in which he exposes
Anderson’s gun delusion. Said by Henry Evanion, who knew Eagle, to be a
fine likeness. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Young’s name has been handed down in history because he made money on Anderson’s reputation, by the boldest of imitations, assuming the title of Wizard of the North with his own name in small type. One of his bills is also reproduced.
Barnedo or “Barney” Eagle is the man of the trio of the imitators who deserves more than passing notice. He became Anderson’s bitterest enemy, and their rivalry made money for the printers.
Eagle could neither read nor write, but having a quick brain he hired a clever writer to indite his speeches and duplicated Anderson’s show so closely that Anderson’s pride was hurt. He therefore decided to expose Eagle, and thousands of bills, constituting a virulent attack upon his imitator, were distributed. One of these is reproduced. It is so rare that I doubt whether another is in existence.
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Window poster issued by Anderson to belittle his imitator “Barney” Eagle and show how the latter secured royal patronage. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Window poster issued by Anderson to belittle his imitator
“Barney” Eagle and show how the latter secured royal patronage. From the
Harry Houdini Collection.
As Eagle had advertised that he was patronized by royalty, Anderson had another bill printed, showing Eagle playing before the King at the Ascot race-track, and an assistant passing the hat in mountebank fashion. In revenge, Eagle had a book published, in which he exposed Anderson’s best drawing trick, The Gun Delusion, in which the magician allowed any one from the audience to shoot a gun at him using marked bullets. These bullets were caught in his mouth or on the point of a knife. This trick became as common as the obedient-card trick.
In the face of such overwhelming evidence, Robert-Houdin’s claim to having invented the obedient-card trick is nothing short of farcical.
The Cabalistic or Obedient
Clock
There might be said to exist a very reasonable doubt as to the exact date at which Robert-Houdin produced the cabalistic clock which he included among his other doubtful claims to inventions.
On page 250 of the American edition of his “Memoirs” he has the Cabalistic Clock on his opening programme for July 3d, 1845, but in the appendix of the French edition he states that the clock first made its appearance at the opening of the season of 1847. In nearly all his statements he is equally inaccurate.
The mysterious clock might be termed the obedient clock, for the trick consists in causing the hand or hands to obey the will of the conjurer or the wishes of the audience.
The hands will point to a figure, move with rapidity, or as slowly as possible, or in time to music. In fact the performer has full control of the hands—he can make them do his every bidding.
The mysterious clock is a trick as old as the obedient-card trick, if not older. It was explained according to various methods in books before Robert-Houdin’s appearance on the stage. In fact, the majority of old-time conjuring books explain mysterious clocks carefully.
Before electricity was introduced, magnets were employed, but the earliest method was to make use of thread wound about the spindle of the clock hand, and that method is still the very best used to-day, owing to its simplicity. The clock, on being presented to the audience, may be hung or placed in the position best suited to the particular method by which it is being “worked.”
It shows a transparent clock face, such as you see in any jewelry shop. Some magicians utilize only one hand, which permits the easy use of electricity or magnet, while others employ two and even three hands. When more than one hand is used the hours and minutes are indicated simultaneously and, if cards are pasted on the clock face, the largest hand is used to find the chosen cards.
The clock may be placed on a pedestal, in an upright position, or hung in midair on two ribbons or strings. It can be hung on a stand made expressly for the purpose, on the style of a music stand, or it can be swung in a frame. In fact, as stated before, it is usually placed so as to facilitate the method of working.
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M. Jacobs, magician, ventriloquist, and bold imitator of John Henry Anderson. From a rare lithograph now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
M. Jacobs, magician, ventriloquist, and bold imitator of
John Henry Anderson. From a rare lithograph now in the Harry Houdini
Collection.
When the cabalistic clock is taken off the hook or the stand on which it is placed, and handed to one of the spectators to hold, the latter places the hand on the pin in the centre of the glass face, and revolves it. The arrow or hand is worked by a counterweight, controlled by the performer, who has it fixed before he hands it to the innocent spectator. The clock can be purchased from any reliable dealer of conjuring apparatus, in almost any part of the world.
For a clock worked by counterweight the hand of thin brass is prepared in the centre, where there is a weight of peculiar shape which has at the thin or tapering end a small pin. This pin is fixed permanently to the weight and can be revolved about the small plate on which it is riveted. Through this plate there is a hole, exactly in the centre. This hand has all this covered with a brass cap, and, to make the arrow point to any given number, you simply move the weight with your thumb. The pin clicks and allows you to feel it as it moves from one hole to another. With very little practice you can move this weight, while in the act of handing it to some one to place it on the centre of the clock face; and when spun, the weight, of its own accord, will land on the bottom, causing the hand to point where it is forced by the law of gravity. The plate on which the weight is fastened is grooved or milled, so that it answers to the slightest movement of your thumb.
When the clock is on the stage and the hand moves simply by the command of the performer or audience, it is manipulated by an assistant behind the scenes, either by the aid of electricity or by an endless thread which is wrapped about the spindle and runs through the two ribbons or strings that hold the clock in midair. Some conjurers work the clock so arranged as to make a combination trick; first by having it worked by the concealed confederate; then, taking the clock off the stand and bringing it down in the midst of the audience. But for this trick you can use only one hand.
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The above diagram exposes the magic clock trick, as offered in the time of Hofrath von Eckartshausen, a German writer on magic in the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries. Fig. 15 shows the clock in position for the trick, hung against the rear wall or “drop.” Gaily-colored ribbons hide thin leather tubes through which run two sets of stout silk thread or catgut, connecting with the hour and minute hands. The thread then passes through the two iron rings, p and o in Figures 17 and 19, which are screwed to the ceiling; thence to the hidden confederate, who manipulates the clock hands as the hour and minute are announced by magician or spectator. Fig. 16 shows the two faces of the clock, with the fine connecting rod around which the string is wound to manipulate the hands. This mechanism is hidden by a flat brass band which encircles the edges of the two transparent faces. From Eckartshausen’s “The Conjurer’s Pocket,” edition of 1791.
The above diagram exposes the magic clock trick, as
offered in the time of Hofrath von Eckartshausen, a German writer on
magic in the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries. Fig. 15 shows the
clock in position for the trick, hung against the rear wall or “drop.”
Gaily-colored ribbons hide thin leather tubes through which run two sets
of stout silk thread or catgut, connecting with the hour and minute
hands. The thread then passes through the two iron rings, p and o in
Figures 17 and 19, which are screwed to the ceiling; thence to the
hidden confederate, who manipulates the clock hands as the hour and
minute are announced by magician or spectator. Fig. 16 shows the two
faces of the clock, with the fine connecting rod around which the string
is wound to manipulate the hands. This mechanism is hidden by a flat
brass band which encircles the edges of the two transparent faces. From
Eckartshausen’s “The Conjurer’s Pocket,” edition of 1791.
Years ago when I introduced this trick in my performance, I called a young man on my stage and asked him to place the hand on the spindle. It would then revolve and stop at any number named. But first I made him inform the audience the number he had chosen, which gave me time to fix the weight with my thumb. I then gave him the hand, but he was a skilled mechanic, and possibly knew the trick. Instead of holding the clock by the ring at the top, which was there for that purpose, he grasped the dial at the bottom, causing the number 6 instead of 12 to be on top. When the hand started to turn, of course it would have stopped at the wrong number. I managed to escape humiliation by pretending I was afraid he would break the clock by letting it fall, so took it away from him, holding it myself.
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Newspaper clipping of 1782, showing that Katterfelto used the cabalistic clock. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Newspaper clipping of 1782, showing that Katterfelto used
the cabalistic clock. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
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Reproduction of rare engraving of Johann Nep. Hofzinser, who invented the clock worked by a counter-weight, and who was one of the world’s greatest card tricksters. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Reproduction of rare engraving of Johann Nep. Hofzinser,
who invented the clock worked by a counter-weight, and who was one of
the world’s greatest card tricksters. Original in the Harry Houdini
Collection.
The mechanic walked off the stage winking at me in the most roguish manner.
Robert-Houdin worked The Mystic Bell trick in connection with The Clock. This was manipulated in the same way. The bell was worked with thread, pulling a small pin, which in turn caused the handle to fall against the glass bell. Naturally, having electricity at his command at that time, he made use of that force whenever it suited his fancy.
I am positive that Robert-Houdin presented the electrical clock, because T. Bolin, of Moscow, visited Paris and bought the trick from Voisin, the French manufacturer of conjuring apparatus. The trick which Robert-Houdin presented, according to his claims, was with the clock hanging in midair to prove that it was not electrically connected, but the truth of the matter is that the strings which held the clock suspended in midair concealed the wires through which his electrical current ran.
In my library of old conjuring books the thread method is ably described by Hofrath von Eckartshausen, mentioned earlier in this chapter. In fact in the pictorial appendix of this work he gives this trick prominence by minutely illustrating the same. He makes use of two hands, and to make the trick infallible he explains that the best way would be to use two glass disks, have them held together by a brass rim, and your threads will work with absolute certainty. The spectators imagine that they are seeing only one glass clock.
Johann Conrad Gutle, the well-known delver after secrets of natural magic, also explains several cabalistic clock tricks in his book published in 1802.
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Reproduction of a triple colored lithograph. This section features Breslaw in stage costume. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Reproduction of a triple colored lithograph. This section
features Breslaw in stage costume. Original in the Harry Houdini
Collection.
I am reproducing herewith a number of programmes describing the effect of the trick and proving that it was no novelty when Robert-Houdin “invented” it. In fact the trick was so common that only the supreme egotism of the man can explain his having introduced it into the pages of his book as an original trick. The mysterious clock worked by the counterweight, which has been described, is credited as having been the invention of Johann Nep. Hofzinser.
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Katterfelto, the bombastic conjurer, who is famous for having sold sulphur matches in 1784, before the Lucifer match is supposed to have been discovered. Reproduced from a rare copy of “The European Magazine,” dated June, 1783, now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Katterfelto, the bombastic conjurer, who is famous for
having sold sulphur matches in 1784, before the Lucifer match is
supposed to have been discovered. Reproduced from a rare copy of “The
European Magazine,” dated June, 1783, now in the Harry Houdini
Collection.
In an advertisement, published in the London Post of May 23d, 1778, included in my collection, this announcement, among others of much interest, will be found:
“Part II.—Breslaw will exhibit many of his newly invented deceptions with a grand apparatus and experiments and particularly the Magic Clock, Sympathetic Bell, and Pyramidical Glasses in a manner entirely new.”
In 1781, while showing at Greenwood’s Rooms, Haymarket, London, Breslaw heavily advertised, “Particularly an experiment on a newly invented mechanical clock will be displayed, under the direction of Sieur Castinia, just arrived from Naples, the like never attempted before in this metropolis.”
There is every reason to believe that Katterfelto, the greatest of bombastic conjurers, used the electrical clock in his performances, as he made a feature of the various late discoveries, and in his programme of 1782 he advertises “feats and experiments in Magnetical, Electrical, Optical, Chymical, Philosophical, Mathematical, etc., etc.” Among implements and instruments or articles mentioned I found Watches, Caskets, Dice, Cards, Mechanical Clocks, Pyramidical Glasses, etc., etc.
Gyngell, Sr., the celebrated Bartholomew Fair conjurer, whose career started about 1788, had on his early programmes, “A Pedestal Clock, so singularly constructed that it is obedient to the word of command.” On the same programme (Catherine Street Theatre, London, February 15th, 1816) I find “The Russian Inn,” “The Confectioner’s Shop,” and “The Automaton Rope Vaulter.” This programme is reproduced in full in Chapter IV.
Without devoting further space to Robert-Houdin’s absurd claim to having invented this clock, we will proceed to discuss his claims to the automaton rope walker, which he called a trapeze performer.
The Trapeze Automaton
Though “Diavolo Antonio” or “Le Voltigeur Trapeze” was not a simple trick, but a cleverly constructed automaton, worked by a concealed confederate, it was a common feature on programmes long before Robert-Houdin claimed it as his invention. Yet with the daring of one who believes that all proof has been destroyed, he announces on page 312 of the American edition of his “Memoirs” that he invented “The Trapeze Performer” for his season of 1848. In the illustrated appendix of his French edition he states that the figure made its first appearance at his Paris theatre, October 1st, 1849. He thus describes the automaton:
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Copy of a poster used by Robert-Houdin to advertise his trapeze performer. This proves how accurately he duplicated the Pinetti figure, even to the arrangement of floral garlands. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Copy of a poster used by Robert-Houdin to advertise his
trapeze performer. This proves how accurately he duplicated the Pinetti
figure, even to the arrangement of floral garlands. From the Harry
Houdini Collection.
“The figure is the size of an infant, and I carry the little artist on my arm in a box. I put him on the trapeze and ask him questions, which he answers by moving his head. Then he bows gracefully to the audience, turning first this way, then that; suspends himself by his hands and draws himself up in time to the music. He also goes through the motions of a strong man, hangs by his head, hands, and feet, and with his legs making the motions of aërial telegraphy.”
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Reproduction of an illustration in “Aufschlüsse zur Magie,” by Hofrath von Eckartshausen, showing the automatic rope vaulter as exhibited in 1784 by Pinetti. Original in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Reproduction of an illustration in “Aufschlüsse zur
Magie,” by Hofrath von Eckartshausen, showing the automatic rope vaulter
as exhibited in 1784 by Pinetti. Original in the Harry Houdini
Collection.
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A Bologna bill of 1812, featuring the automatic rope dancers. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
A Bologna bill of 1812, featuring the automatic rope
dancers. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Decremps in his exposé, “The Conjurer Unmasked,” published in 1784, thus describes the automaton and its work: “Our attention was next called to observe an automaton figure, that vaulted upon a rope, performing all the postures and evolutions of the most expert tumblers, keeping exact time to music. By seeing Mr. Van Estin wind up the figures, and being shown the wheels and levers contained in the body of the automaton, caused us to believe it moved by its own springs, when Mr. Van Estin thus explained the deception: ‘To make a figure of this kind depends a great deal on the proportion and the materials with which it is composed: The legs and thighs are formed out of heavy wood, such as ash or oak; the body of birch or willow, and made hollow, and the head, for lightness, of papier-maché. The figure is joined by its hands to a bar of iron, that passes through a partition, and is turned by a confederate; the arms are inflexible at the elbows, but move freely at the shoulders by means of a bolt that goes through the body; and the thighs and legs move in the same manner at the hips and knees, and are stayed by pieces of leather to prevent them from bending in the wrong way. The bar is covered with hollow twisted tubes, and ornamented with artificial flowers, so as no part of it can be seen to turn; the confederate by giving the handle a quarter of a turn to the left, the automaton, whose arms are parallel to the horizon, lift themselves by little and little, till they become vertical and parallel to the rest of the body; if in following the same direction, the other part of the body moves forward; and by watching the motions through a hole, he seizes the instant that a leg passes before the bar, to leave the automaton astride; afterward he balances it by jerks, and causes it to take a turn around, keeping time with the music as if it was sensible of harmony.
“N.B.—Three circumstances concur here to favor the illusion: First, by the assistance of a wire, the confederate can separate the bar from the automaton, which, falling to the ground, persuades one it loses itself by real machinery. Secondly, in winding up the levers shown in the body, confirms the spectators in the idea that there is no need of a confederate. Thirdly, the tubes that are twisted around the bar, except where the automaton is joined to it, seem to be the rope itself, and being without motion, as is seen by the garlands which surround them, it cannot be suspected that the bar turns in the inside, from whence it is concluded that the figure moves by its own machinery.”
According to one of de Philipsthal’s advertisements, page 103, the trapeze automaton which he featured was six feet in height. But Pinetti programmes show that he had a smaller figure known as the rope vaulter. This is probably the trick exposed in Decremps’ book.
On page 108 will be found a Louis programme of 1815, on which a figure is thus featured:
“Two Elegant Automata
As large as nature, the one representing a beautiful Polonnese, the other a little boy.
Nothing can surpass the admirable construction of these Pieces. The large figure seems almost endowed with human Faculties, exhibiting the usual feats of a Rope-Dancer, in the fullest imitation of life. The small Figure is invested with equally astonishing powers of action. To such ladies as are spectators it must be a very pleasing circumstance that these exertions do not excite those disagreeable sensations which arise from the sight of Figures fraught with life, performing feats attended with so much danger.”
By referring to page 113 the reader will find a Schmidt programme, dated 1827, on which the figure is featured as follows:
“The Rope Dancer,
Whose surprising performances surpass, in agility, attitudes, and evolutions, every Professor of the art, keeping correct time to the music of the machinery.”
A Gyngell programme, dated 1823, which is reproduced in the chapter devoted to “The Pastry Cook of the Palais Royal,” page 125, reads as follows: “Two automatons, one of which will execute wonderful feats on the tight rope, and the other dance a characteristic hornpipe.”
As Gyngell figured in the amusement world from 1788 to 1844, the little figure must have been tolerably well known to the magic-loving public of England by the time Robert-Houdin appeared in London in 1848.
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A de Philipsthal programme of 1806 on which both the automatic tight-rope performer and the magnetic clock were featured. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
A de Philipsthal programme of 1806 on which both the
automatic tight-rope performer and the magnetic clock were featured.
From the Harry Houdini Collection.
A Thiodon bill of 1825, in which he claims the invention
of a figure that could be lifted on or off the stage or pole. This was
twenty-five years before Robert-Houdin claimed the same invention. From
the Harry Houdini Collection.
A magician named York, who appeared in London in 1844, the year before Robert-Houdin made his professional début, featured under date of January 29th “two automatons, one of which will execute wonderful feats on the Tight Rope, and the other dance a characteristic Hornpipe.”
Bologna announced for his performance at the Sans Pareil Theatre, Strand, London, under date of March 18th, 1812, “The Two Automaton Rope Dancers from St. Petersburg, whose Feats of Agility were never equalled, and cannot be surpassed, will perform together in a style of Excellence hitherto unknown in this country.”
De Philipsthal also featured a pair of automatic tight-rope performers from 1804 until his death; and in the early 30’s the figures were exhibited by his widow. By referring to Chapter III. a De-Philipsthal programme of 1806 is reproduced as evidence.
From 1825 to 1855 J. F. Thiodon played London and the provinces, advertising on his programmes:
“Fourth Piece.—The Wonderful and Unrivalled Automaton on the Flying Rope. The only one of this construction in the Kingdom; and forms a more extraordinary Novelty from the circumstances of its not being fastened on the Rope by the Hands, like others hitherto exhibited. The Rope will be in continual Motion, and the Figure will sit perfectly easy and in a graceful attitude while on the Swing, and perform the most surprising Evolutions, scarcely to be distinguished from a Living Performer, as it moves with the utmost Correctness, without any apparent Machinery.”
From this overwhelming evidence it can be argued beyond doubt that if Robert-Houdin even constructed the automaton he merely copied figures presented by both his predecessors and his contemporaries, and he was fully aware of the existence of several such automata when he advertised his as an original invention. They were made by many mechanicians.
In the illustrated appendix of the French edition of his “Memoirs” he goes further; he deliberately misrepresents the mechanism of the figure and insinuates that the automaton is a self-working one. This is not true, as it was worked by a concealed confederate, as described above by Decremps.
Robert-Houdin even used the garlands of flowers to hide the moving bars as Pinetti and others of his predecessors had done. The truth was not in him.