In the second quarter of the 17th Century the stage was set for the birth of the magic lantern, progenitor of all cinematographic projectors. The chief actor was a German, a fellow countryman of Kepler and of many other serious scientists in the light and shadow field, but it was in Italy, native land of many arts and showmen, of Leonardo da Vinci and of Porta, that he worked. The man was Athanasius Kircher.

The age in which Kircher worked was a difficult period. The Thirty Years War ravaged Europe from 1618 to 1648 and the people suffered more than at any period down to our own. Europe politically was in chaos as after World Wars I and II. Only in literature and science were there signs of hope and promise. The eyes of many thoughtful Europeans turned away from the Old World to the new lands across the sea.

Kircher was born five years before the first permanent English settlement in the New World. But let him tell us in the words of his Latin autobiography, parts of which, it is believed, are here translated into English for the first time: “At the third hour after midnight on the second of May in the year 1602, I was brought into the common air of disaster at Geysa, a town which is a three hours’ journey from Fulda.” (Not far from the modern Frankfurt-on-Main, Germany.) “When I was six days old I was dedicated to Athanasius by my parents, John Kircher and Anna Gansekin, Catholics and servants of God and workers of good deeds, because I was born on that Saint’s Feast Day.”

Kircher thus described his father, mother and the family: “John Kircher was a very great scholar and a doctor of philosophy. When the report of his learning and wisdom came to the Prince,” (probably Rudolph), “he was summoned and made a member of the council at Fulda. Later he was put in charge of the fortress of Haselstein because he had been diligent in destroying the printing machines of the heretics. He married a maiden of Fulda, Anna, daughter of an honest citizen named Gansekin. Nine children, six boys and three girls, were born to them. All the boys entered one of the several religious orders. Of all these I was the youngest and smallest.”

Kircher’s father was a man of influence and learning, though evidently not of noble birth. He had studied philosophy and theology but was not a religious, though he did teach for a time in a Benedictine monastery. Very likely he was a stern parent. The mother, it would appear, was the daughter of a merchant or store-keeper and certainly was not learned like her husband. But no doubt she was more liberal and understanding.

Kircher’s course of studies is interesting: “After the age of childhood, around the tenth year, I was placed in the elementary studies, at first at Music; then I was introduced to the elements of the Latin language.” At that time Latin was still the universal language of scholarship. It is likely that Kircher spoke Latin much more than any other language. All his writing was in Latin, though in time he became a talented linguist.

Kircher’s father sent him to the Jesuit college at Fulda, because he wanted his youngest son to learn Greek in addition to Latin and in time to become a universal scholar. Kircher’s teacher at Fulda was John Altink, S.J. The course followed the famous Jesuit Ratio Studiorum, which is still the basis of studies in the many hundreds of schools conducted by that order throughout the world. Then, as now, emphasis was on the classics. Somewhat later his father took him to a Rabbi “who taught me Hebrew,” as Kircher wrote, “with the result that I was skilled in that language for the rest of my life.”

At the same age as a high school graduate in the United States, Kircher could read, write and speak Latin, Greek and Hebrew, in addition to German, and probably he also had a good foundation in French and Italian.

At the old town of Paderborn on October 2, 1618, Kircher entered the Society of Jesus, militant religious order founded by the Spaniard-soldier-churchman, Ignatius of Loyola, in 1540, and already a powerful influence in education in Europe and in missionary work even as far as India and Japan. Kircher did not enter the Jesuits as early as he had wished because he had fallen while ice-skating and had suffered an injury.

From 1618 to 1620, Kircher occupied himself with religious duties, spending the time largely in prayer. After 1620 he continued with the usual studies for the priesthood—philosophy and theology. He studied philosophy at Cologne and briefly taught at the Jesuit Colleges at Coblenz and Heiligenstadt. Along with these pursuits, Kircher took a special interest in languages and in mathematics, the foundation for all scientific work. He completed his studies in theology at Mainz and was ordained a priest in 1628.

Kircher was given ample opportunity to take courses, despite the troubled times resulting from the wars. In the year 1629, he was at Speyer where he expressed to his religious superior a preference for missionary work in China. Next he took an interest in Egyptian writing, hieroglyphics, which were not to be translated until many years later. Chaldean, Arabic and Samaritan were added to Kircher’s language studies. Then for a short period he was professor of ethics and mathematics at the University of Würzburg.

In 1618, when Kircher had entered the Jesuits, the Thirty Years’ War had broken out. Then, as in our own time, Germany was no place for serious studies. Kircher, after he became a priest, spent considerable time in France where the organization of a powerful central government was being undertaken by Richelieu. The Cardinal was a patron of the arts, founding the French Academy. It is likely that word of Kircher’s learning reached Richelieu, for Kircher visited several of the colleges and universities in the south of France, stopping at Lyons and later at Avignon. Kircher continued all the while his remarkable studies, and began to write, publishing his first book in 1630.

Soon the fame of Kircher attracted the attention of the highest ecclesiastical and educational authorities. Pope Urban VIII, who had struggled in vain to prevent the Thirty Years’ War, and Francesco Cardinal Barberini (nephew of Pope Urban), summoned Kircher to Rome late in 1633. Just before the word to come to Rome reached him, he was invited to Vienna by the Emperor Ferdinand. Kircher started for Austria by boat from a French port but was shipwrecked and the order to report to Rome reached him after his rescue.

The invitation to come to Rome could not be refused. But there is every reason to believe that Kircher was delighted to have the opportunity of working in Rome under such high auspices. The civil situation was somewhat more stable in Rome than in Germany. Furthermore Rome was the intellectual center as well as focal point of much political maneuvering. Ambassadors and special agents representing Richelieu of France, the King of Spain, the Emperor of Germany and many of the other European powers, great and small, were constantly coming and going, seeking to increase the power of the state they represented and their own prestige as well. The heads of all the religious orders lived in Rome and hence it was the headquarters for knowledge of new developments in science and of news from the lands being explored in America and in the Far East.

Kircher stood apart from these struggles for political, religious and educational power. As a Jesuit he had put aside prospects of ecclesiastical advancement. He was content with his studies, his teaching and his inventions. But others were not content to leave him in peace.

At the request of Cardinal Barberini, Kircher was made professor of mathematics at the Roman College which was then popular with the young Roman nobility and the learned from all over the world. While teaching, Kircher continued his work in the Oriental languages and mathematics and also branched out into the natural sciences.

Kircher was a little man of boundless energy and once interested in a problem was never content till he knew all the facts, from personal investigation if possible, and had written an exhaustive tome on the subject. He made many field trips to test theories and ideas by practical experience. An active exponent of experimental science, Kircher made important contributions to human knowledge, though some of his books contained not a little error, and even some nonsense.

Kircher’s work with magic lanterns and his observations on the magic shadow art-science were released to the educated world in his Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae—“The Great Art of Light and Shadow”—published at Rome in 1646. Kircher defined his “Great Art” as “the faculty by which we make and exhibit with light and shadow the wonders of things in nature.” That applies to living pictures today as it did in the 17th Century. Even the sound of the modern motion pictures is recorded and reproduced through light and shadow action.

No clue is given by Kircher to the exact date he invented the magic projection lantern. But it was probably not long before he finished the book in 1644 or 1645. Kircher dedicated his thick quarto volume, which was handsomely published by Herman Scheus at the press of Ludovici Grignani in Rome, to Archduke Ferdinand III, the Holy Roman Emperor, King of Hungary, King of Bohemia and King of the Romans. Hence, knowledge of the screen first appeared in print under very distinguished patronage.

The title page explained that the great art of light and shadow had been “digested” into ten books “in which the wonderful powers of light and shadow in the world and even in the natural universe are shown and new forms for exhibiting the various earthly uses are explained.”

The Emperor wrote a foreword and this was followed by an introduction of Kircher “to the reader.” Kircher spoke of the earlier use of light and shadow by the necromancers to deceive, but pointed out that his developments were for “public use, or a means of private recreation.” Introductory material also included several odes about the subject and the author, as well as the necessary ecclesiastical approvals.

The first nine books, or long sections, of Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae include such diverse topics as the following: Light, reflection, images, the speaking tube, the structure of the eye, sketching devices, the art of painting, geometrical patterns, clocks, the nature of reflected light, refraction and means of measuring the earth.

The section which is of special interest in the story of magic shadows is the tenth—it gives the title to the whole work. The sub-title of the chapter is, “Wonders of light and shadow, in which is considered the more hidden effects of light and shadow and various applications.” In the preface to the section Kircher wrote “in this, as in our other research, we have believed that the results of our important experiments should be made public.” “That risk is taken,” he continued, “for the purpose of preventing the curious readers from being defrauded of time and money by those who sell imitation devices, for many have provided wondrous, rare, marvelous and unknown things and others have sold so much bunk.”

The first section of the all-important tenth chapter discussed magic clocks and sun-dials; the second, the camera obscura or “dark chamber,” lenses, telescopes, other optical devices. In the third section there appears the magic lantern. The section is called, “Magia Catoptrica, or concerning the wondrous exhibition of things by the use of a mirror.” Catoptron in Greek means “mirror.” Kircher wrote, “Magia catoptrica is nothing else but the method of exhibiting through the means of mirrors hidden things which seem to be outside the scope of the human mind.” Ancient authorities who had made contributions to this art-science were mentioned by Kircher.

First Kircher explained how steel mirrors were made and polished—mirrors or reflectors are still of importance in gathering light in the motion picture projector. He commented on the various types of convex, concave, spherical and other types of mirrors.

In Kircher’s day even the learned were quite uneducated according to modern standards, especially on all matters of physical science. Images that appeared from nowhere were most mysterious and few knew how they were produced. The telescope and microscope were still very new and many doubted what their eyes saw through these inventions.

Kircher, as a showman, described a Catoptric Theatre—a large cabinet in which many mirrors were concealed. One of the “Theatres” was placed in the Villa Borghese Palace in Rome and doubtless delighted the nobles of that day as much as the people in the United States were pleased with the first Edison peep-show machines in 1894. For Kircher’s Catoptric Theatre was an early peep-show device. It also has a relation to the Kaleidoscope of the early 19th century.

The first form of the magic lantern described by Kircher was merely a lantern suitable for showing letters at a remote distance. It is very simple and appears entirely elementary. But the first step was taken. The third problem of the third section of the tenth book of the Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae was how to construct such an artificial lantern with which written characters may be shown at a remote distance.

The parts are easily distinguished—a concave mirror at the rear; a candle for a light source; a handle and a place for inserting silhouette letter slides. Kircher noted that in the device the flame will burn with an unaccustomed brilliance. “Through the aid of this device very small letters may be exhibited without any trouble.” He noted that some will think there is an enormous fire, so bright will the lantern shine. He added that the strength of the light will be increased if the interior of the cylinder is covered with an alloy of silver and lead to increase its reflecting qualities.

The second Kircher device of direct relation to the motion picture is his machine for creating metamorphoses or rapid changes. All kinds of transformations could be shown. Here was first introduced the revolving wheel on which pictures were painted. It bears an analogous relation to the motion picture devices of the early 19th century—also using a revolving vertical wheel. The modern projector likewise has its film pictures on a small wheel or reel.

Kircher explained that in this catoptric machine a man looking at the mirror (equivalent to the screen in a theatre) sees images of a fire, a cow and other animals all blending one into another. It is unlikely that the giant wheel could be revolved swiftly enough to give anything like the proper illusion of motion but certainly there was a transformation which must have appeared wondrous and entertaining. (Illustration facing page 48.)

Kircher also described how images of objects could be projected by means of the light of a candle. Through this system various images were exhibited in a darkened chamber. But Kircher evidently was not satisfied with this method, for no illustration of it appeared in the first edition of his book. The reason is obvious. A candle could provide only enough illumination for the faintest shadows. Kircher wrote that those objects which need only a fraction of the sun’s light can be shown by a candle in a small room. Two methods for this were indicated: (1) with a concave mirror reflecting the images and (2) projecting the image through a lens. It was noted that the better single method was through the lens. A combination of the two provided the most light. Kircher remarked that he had read in a history of the Arabs that a certain king of Bagdad used a mirror to work wonders in order to deceive the people. He also pointed out that some men had used mirrors to project into dark places what the ignorant thought were devils.

The chief problem in Kircher’s day and for centuries afterwards was to provide sufficient light. The final solution did not come until electric light was introduced. Probably Kircher’s most efficient projection was one in which the sun was used as the source of light. Even in the early part of the 20th century arrangements were used which hooked up the sun with the magic lantern because it was thought that the results were even better and cheaper than those obtained with electric light.

Kircher’s sun magic projector used a real optical system which is fundamental even to this day. There was first the source of light, then a reflector and the object, and the projected image. The effects, of course, would be most startling in a darkened room. Kircher also showed how shadows of any type of figure could be thrown onto a wall or screen through the same method.

In those days when there was much secret correspondence and keen interest in various forms of cipher, many of Kircher’s readers were glad to note how the magic lantern could be used for such a purpose. At that time people would not, it was believed, detect that the letters in such a system were simply backwards and upside down. The message could be read easily by projecting images of the letters. The same result could be had by turning the paper upside down and holding it before a mirror.

After listing these many diverse uses of the magic lantern system Kircher thought it well to conclude his book lest he be charged with “meandering” endlessly on a subject which some would consider trivial. Kircher said, “We leave all these to the talented reader for further refinement. A word to the wise is sufficient. Innumerable things could be said concerning the application of this device but we leave to others new material of invention and lest this work grow too long we cut off the thread of discussion about these devices.”

Kircher ended his entire book by saying that it was published “not for income or glory but for the common good.”

In his Latin autobiography Kircher made only one passing reference to his Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae, “The Great Art of Light and Shadow.”

Let Kircher speak:

At one point in the discussion of the magic lantern in Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae Kircher interrupted the thread of the story long enough to point out that charges of the use of the black arts had been made against him and others who knew the use of mirrors and lenses by some who had no knowledge of philosophy and science. He told how Roger Bacon was charged with necromancy because he could show a recognizable shadow of himself in a dark room where his friends were assembled. Kircher noted that certainly a talented philosopher and scientist could accomplish all these effects through skill in the use of mirrors and lenses and without any trace of the suspect black art.

The charge of necromantic art was the source of much of Kircher’s unhappiness. Some considered him in league with the devil because he could make images and shadows and objects appear where none had been before. It was the age-old story that some in the audience or among the readers did not understand how an effect was produced so its validity and legitimacy were denied.

Praise and blame always have been the lot of discoverers and inventors.

Kircher had, however, better fortune than many others. He was able to write in his autobiography, “Divine Providence, which never fails us, took care of my trouble in this wonderful way—my appointed work was restored to me and by the occasion of this good fortune I escaped the traps of my adversaries.”

Adversaries on even scientific matters in those days battled to the death. What happened was this: A commission established by Innocent X, who had been elected Pope in 1644, ordered that Kircher be allowed to continue his beloved antiquarian studies. It seemed that the Obelisk of Caracalla had been partially destroyed and Kircher was given the task of directing the restoration. Kircher’s original patron, Cardinal Barberini, continued to have influence, being Pope Innocent’s legate or ambassador to the Emperor.

And so the man who had done so much to advance the art-science of living pictures for the knowledge and enjoyment of vast millions in the centuries to come spent the happiest days of his life looking towards the dead and buried past.

A quarter of a century later, Kircher was able to revise and enlarge his book on The Great Art of Light and Shadow and have it printed in a great folio edition in 1671 by John Jansson of Waesberge at Amsterdam. Conditions had changed greatly—Kircher was no longer a newcomer at Rome, suspected of being in league with the devil on account of his powers with mirrors and lenses and his amazing projected images. His fame as a universal scholar, “The Doctor of a Hundred Arts,” had spread throughout the European world. Men now had begun to realize there was much of great value in his Magia Catoptrica or Magic Projection with mirrors.

Jacob Alban Ghibbesim, M.D., professor at the Roman College, in the caption for Kircher’s portrait, used these words: “This man and his name are known to the ends of the earth.”

In 1670 Kircher had a new patron, John Frederic, to whom he dedicated his work. The Emperor Ferdinand, who sponsored the first edition, had died in 1657. Europe was gradually recovering from the effects of the Thirty Years’ War. Louis XIV was establishing an all-powerful personal rule in France. Holland and Switzerland were jealously guarding their newly won independence. Sweden was an important European power. Great Britain had a short-lived republic under Cromwell. In the New World the English had consolidated their position by driving the Dutch out of New Amsterdam, occupying New York in 1664. Much of the New World had yet to be explored.

“Vagabonds and imposters” had carried the magic lantern everywhere during the quarter century following its announcement, usually claiming it as their own invention. Kircher thought the time had come for him to set down in more detail various additional applications of his magic lantern, invented 30 years before. The only additions Kircher made to the entire tome were in the section on the magic lanterns. Two new plates were made, showing room and box-type projectors and also added was another special plate on a particular application demonstrating that Kircher used the lantern idea to tell a story. (Illustration facing page 49.)

Let Kircher now explain about Walgenstein, a Dane, one of his first and most successful imitators in the practice of the magic lantern:

From Kircher’s statement Walgenstein should be hailed as the first commercializer of the projector and the first traveling picture showman or “road-show man.” Unfortunately, little is known of this man. While he may have been “not a little known” in Kircher’s time, he left no mark on history, evidently never writing a book or holding an educational or other position which would have been recorded. It seems certain that he was the Dane of whom the French inventor and scientist, Milliet de Chales, spoke about as introducing the magic lantern in Lyons, France, some years after it was invented by Kircher.

Kircher’s statement about the shows which he put on at the Roman College is most interesting. The reference to tragic and comic plays indicates beyond doubt that Kircher used a succession of lantern slides to tell a story as the modern motion picture is made up of a succession of pictures.

Kircher included a description of the slide projector so that all who wished could imitate his work. “All these things have been shown so that the reader can make his own,” he said. “The work of art formerly described does not differ from the new lantern.” He pointed out that moving slides had been added so that the objects might appear with the aspect of living shadows. He again explained how a concave mirror and diaphragm should be used. Kircher informed his readers that he usually used four or five slides, each having eight pictures painted on glass. The illustrations, he noted, explain the system better than words. We echo that and refer the reader to the illustrations of the box and room moving-slide projectors of Kircher.

Kircher in his 1671 edition described a form of revolving disc to tell a story. (He selected the most widely known story of all for the model—The Life of Christ.) The light available would not give a great effect but the pattern was set. Nearly two hundred years later the first projection of motion pictures was to be achieved with a somewhat similar disc and series of painted figures. Kircher’s revolving disc told the story with a series of still pictures rapidly succeeding each other. (Illustration facing page 48.)

By explaining all details of the method and construction of the magic lantern to everyone interested, Kircher had hoped to expose some of the imposters who were using his invention to arouse fear and make the people believe that the operator had magic powers.

Kircher, with his “hundred arts,” became vir toto orbe celebratissimus—a man well known throughout the world—according to Jerome Langenmantel who edited his autobiography in 1684. However, since his own era Kircher has been relatively unknown.

There was hardly a branch of learning that did not attract Kircher’s attention. He assembled one of the best ethnological collections of his time. He attempted to develop a basic language and was one of the first to make a start towards deciphering hieroglyphics. In the field of magnetism he was a pioneer and in 1632 was one of the first to map compass variation and ocean currents. In medicine Kircher was a proponent of the new and generally disbelieved germ theory of disease, and an experimenter in the use of hypnotism for healing purposes. He contributed much to the early knowledge of volcanoes. As an inventor, Kircher perfected one of the first counting machines, speaking tubes, Aeolian harps and developed the microscope to an enlarging power of 1,000 diameters.

However, despite all his knowledge, his title of “Doctor of a Hundred Arts” and the trouble and fame incidental to the invention of the magic lantern—his least art, or “the hundredth”—Kircher was not prideful of his reputation. He concluded his little autobiography by describing himself as “a poor, humble and unworthy servant of God.” His heart was buried in a shrine to Mary, the Mother of God, which Kircher had constructed on the Sabine Hill in Rome.

The art-science of projection and the magic lantern were further explained through the publication of three other books which included a description of Kircher’s work and illustrations of his projector systems; namely, George de Valesius’ volume on the Museum of the Roman College in 1678, which pointed out that Kircher had developed magic lanterns using one or more lenses, and that several different models were on display and in use since the time of their invention; Johann Stephan Kesler’s book on Kircher’s experiments published in 1680 and another edition in 1686; and finally there was published in Rome in 1707, a work on the Kircher Museum—the Museum of the Roman College which had by then been given officially the name of its collector. Today only a few small objects remain of Kircher’s original collections. Unfortunately, Kircher’s devices were destroyed shortly after his death.

The museum of Kircher at the Roman College, the first picture theatre in the world, was an amazing place. Every conceivable kind of antiquarian and scientific object was assembled—from Egyptian inscriptions to stuffed animals, fish, rare stones, curiosities from the New Worlds and everything pertaining to the pursuits of the “Doctor of a Hundred Arts.” Any spectator, from one of the eminent Cardinals to a young Roman nobleman and student at the College who was invited to a performance, would certainly have been well prepared for an extraordinary show after looking at the diverse collections at the museum.

In the 17th century there was no doubt as to the identity of the inventor of the magic lantern. Before Kircher’s death in 1680 his magic lantern was widely used in Europe for scientific and entertainment purposes as well as for the art of deception. The question was raised by later writers seeking to claim a national of their own country as the inventor. Kesler wrote in 1680, “In the catoptric art images are exhibited in dark places through the magic lantern which our author (Kircher) invented and which, to his undying memory, he communicated to the world.”

In those days some men liked to keep secret their inventions lest some one else claim the rewards. Two and a half centuries later, Thomas A. Edison sometimes found it better not to take out foreign patents on his inventions because that frequently served only as notice to those who sought to duplicate his work. For this reason Edison did not spend the $150 necessary to obtain foreign patents on his moving picture cameras and viewers.