Chapter XIV: Part IV: Finale (3)

“As before mentioned, the whole of this takes place in darkness, obtained by the chamber being draped in black velvet and the floor covered with black felt. The brightness of the lights turned towards the audience, contrasting with the denseness of the black behind, dazzles the eye to such an extent that it cannot discern anything in the chamber that is not white or of a very light color. The stage is all arranged before the act, and the tables are in their respective places, but cannot be seen on account of their being draped with black velvet. The goblets, frame, lady, ghost, etc., are all placed in readiness behind a black screen, also draped. None of this can be seen while they are behind the lights, if kept covered in black, no matter how near to the front they are placed. But how do they float about and appear so mysteriously? An assistant is within the chamber, dressed in black velvet throughout, with black gloves and mask, covering all signs of white about him and making him perfectly invisible. He wears no boots, and the felt {297} upon the floor deadens the sound of all his movements. He it is who really produces all the articles. When the performer stretches his hand out for the wand, the assistant brings it from behind the screen and hands it to him with a floating movement. As the performer taps the floor he immediately pulls away the black covering and the table instantly appears to view. The goblets are painted black inside, allowing him to hold them at the back with his fingers inside, unnoticed. After the tables are both produced he places the goblets upon them at the right moment with one hand while he pulls off the velvet with the other. The exposition is so quick and sudden that nothing suspicious can be noticed. The turning of the goblet is also the work of the invisible assistant, and is quickly changed from one hand to another when the ring is being passed over it. The watches, etc., are not placed in the goblet as they appear to be, but dropped behind it into the assistant’s hands, who takes them over to the other while the performer is exhibiting his empty hands. The picture-frame is also handed by the assistant, and when it is apparently placed in mid-air is really passed to the assistant, who quickly hangs it up. When it is covered the lady steps from behind the screen to the frame, and stands upon a swing which nearly reaches to the floor behind it, and catches hold of the frame sides; the assistant draws away the velvet which draped her, and keeps the swing in motion. The frame is attached to the wires of this swing. The lady is dressed in white to the waist, which exactly reaches the bottom of the frame. Below the frame she is dressed in black velvet. When the frame is again covered she steps back behind the screen while the assistant fits the Union Jack in the frame. In the decapitation act there are two ladies, one dressed all in white, the other standing behind her dressed in black, with her head covered by a black hood. When the performer swings the sabre the assistant covers the white lady’s head with a black velvet hood, at the same time pulling the hood quickly from the other lady’s head, who immediately falls to her knees. The illusion looks perfect—a body apparently standing without a head and the head apparently falling. When the wings are put on she flaps them by means of a wire and runs round the {298} chamber, stooping at intervals, so as to take an irregular course. The beheaded lady is restored by exactly the reverse method, and she disappears behind the screen. The ghost is danced about on a stick by the assistant, and when its skull is thrown into the air it is caught in a black bag. The performer takes the sheet and goes behind it and hands it to the assistant, and it is the latter who is seen draping himself, the performer running around to {299} the back of the hall meanwhile, where he waits to see the sheet drop. The assistant, allowing time for this, simply lets go the top of the sheet, and, of course, cannot be seen behind it. The performer runs in before it has time to reach the ground, his invisible flight and immediate reappearance greatly astonishing the spectators.”

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VII.

Cazeneuve, better known as _le commandeur_ Cazeneuve, the great card expert and magician, was born in Toulouse in 1840. He adopted magic, after witnessing a performance of that original genius, Bosco. His chivalric title (commander of the imperial order of Medjidie) was conferred upon him by the Sultan of Turkey, with whom he was a favorite. At the Court of Russia he and his charming wife made a great sensation with the second-sight trick. When the Franco-Prussian war broke out, Cazeneuve returned to Toulouse and raised two companies of soldiers, one of which was composed entirely of theatrical people. He served as captain of the 1st regiment of Tirailleurs d’Elite, under the command of Colonel Riu, and fought bravely for France. After peace was declared he prepared a new programme of magic and toured Europe and the Americas. He has a handsome home in his native city of Toulouse, where he has collected many rare curios. In the year 1905, Cazeneuve was touring Algeria with a magic show. He is a member of several scientific societies, and manifests great interest in physics.

I first saw Carl Hertz in Baltimore at the old vaudeville theatre “across the bridge,” some twenty years ago. I remember him as a clever, good-looking young fellow, possessed of considerable dash, and very neat in the performance of card tricks. His specialty was the “bird-cage trick,” which he did to perfection. He was born in San Francisco, of German parents. His first manager was M. de Frère. Hertz has traveled extensively in the Orient. With the bird-cage trick he puzzled the best informed fakirs of India. In Borneo he met with a most romantic adventure. He is probably the only man who has had to offer himself as a burnt-offering to escape an amorous Princess. He was giving a series of magical entertainments before a Malay Sultan and Court, and not only succeeded in fascinating the yellow-skinned monarch, but his daughter as well. The young princess proposed marriage to the conjurer. “On Mr. Hertz informing the lady, through an interpreter, that he was already wedded, she replied that made no difference to her, as she would rule his other ladies. Here was a fix. However, with the {301} connivance of the British Vice-Consul, Mr. Hertz took the place of his lawful spouse in the Phœnix illusion, and jumping into the blazing caldron waved an affectionate adieu to the astonished and dismayed Princess. Mrs. Hertz had to keep up the delusion by weeping copiously while her husband was being conveyed to the coast in a basket.”

In the Sandwich Islands, on one occasion, a chief leaped upon the stage where Hertz was performing and began worshiping him as a god. How very real must have been the effect of Hertz’s magic upon the untutored mind of that simple native.

In the year 1904, a troupe of Hindoo jugglers, acrobats and snake charmers were brought to the United States to entertain lovers of the marvelous at the St. Louis Exposition. Among them was a man with an unpronounceable name, whom the management dubbed “Alexander.” I met the dusky necromancer at Martinka’s in the summer of 1904. He went about the streets of New York garbed in his rich Oriental costume. The street gamins always followed him from his hotel to the Palace of Magic and stood about the doorway in crowds, awaiting in breathless astonishment some feat of wizardry. But the impassive Hindoo paid no attention to his youthful admirers, but went on blowing wreaths of smoke from Egyptian cigarettes, and making purchases of magical apparatus with which to astonish the natives of his beloved India. Taking magic tricks to India is like carrying coals to Newcastle. But Alexander had a very high opinion of Occidental conjuring, and fully realized the fact that the sorcerers of the West, aided by all the resources of modern science, were the superiors of the Hindoo fakirs, except perhaps in one particular—feats of hypnotism and apparent death. I saw Alexander, in Martinka s little back shop, support a couple of heavy iron weights, which were fastened at the ends of a cord, upon his eyelids. The cord rested on the lids, the weights dangling at the ends of the string. The pressure upon the eyeballs must have been tremendous. Alexander presented Dr. Ellison with a wand—the thigh-bone of a sacred simian from the famous monkey temple of India. The bone was inscribed with cabalistic characters and Sanskrit sentences. The monkey is famous for playing {302} tricks, and the thigh-bone of a sacred monkey consequently ought to make an admirable mystic wand for a conjurer. The doctor prizes this unique relic very highly, and is thinking of building a shrine of Benares copper for its reception. In the future, crowds of wandering wizards will doubtless make pilgrimages to this shrine to gaze in ecstasy at the holy relic, just as crowds of East Indians visit the temple where Buddha’s wisdom tooth is displayed for the delectation of the faithful.

VIII.

In the year 1894 there flashed on the theatrical horizon of Europe an eccentric gentleman conjurer, who performed with a mask on his face, advertising himself as _L’Homme Masqué_ (the Masked Man).

“Who is he?” inquired the _quid nuncs_ of the vaudeville theatres.

Nobody seemed to know. Had the Man in the Iron Mask, celebrated by Voltaire and Alexander Dumas, come to life again?

“What does he wear a mask for?” asked the public.

“To hide his aristocratic features,” replied the manager of _L’Homme Masqué_. “He wishes to remain incognito.”

Eventually he permitted his name to leak out. It was Marquis d’O. “But ‘O’ is not a name,” cried the _quid nuncs_. “It is a letter, an exclamation of surprise or terror.” “Not so fast,” remarked the Dryasdusts. “There was a Marquis d’O who lived in the seventeenth century. He was a noted duelist and gambler, but that did not prevent him from being a favorite with Henri III of France. Possibly _L’Homme Masqué_ is a descendant of the famous nobleman of the old régime. He is unquestionably a Frenchman, for he speaks like a native.”

The masked man refused to further reveal his identity. In one respect he resembled the favorite of the Valois King. He was familiar with cards. After losing 800,000 francs at Monte Carlo, he took up magic as a profession and made his début, March, 1894. I have ascertained that the Marquis is a native of Peru, South America. His real name I do not know. The “O” perhaps is a _nom de thèatre_. Again, it may be an {303} abbreviation of Olivarez. Mr. Downs writes as follows in the Sphinx, January, 1903, concerning the mysterious marquis:

“_L Homme’ Masqué_ (Marquis d’O) and myself are especially engaged to give a series of magical performances at the Casino Theatre, Spa, Belgium, Nov. 15 to Dec. 31, 1902. The Marquis is a remarkably clever magician of the non-apparatus school and gives an hour and thirty minutes’ performance, changing his show each evening. He uses only cards, handkerchiefs, flowers, eggs and other small objects for his illusions. He is eminently original and possesses a great personality. He is a decided sensation in the theatrical world. His success has been so pronounced that he has had many imitators who have donned the mask and traded on his reputation. The Society of Magicians in Hamburg presented him with a valuable gold-tipped wand set with diamonds. Like Robert-Houdin, the Marquis presents his audiences with many charming souvenirs, some of them of considerable value, such as cigarette cases, cigars, bouquets, etc. He is very popular in aristocratic circles. When in London, he received as high as £20 for a private entertainment and was invited everywhere.”

To keep the public guessing is the particular business of a conjurer, but to keep people guessing as to your identity as well as your tricks, caps the climax in the art of mystery mongering. Imagine the Sphinx wearing a mask. This business of a wizard disguising his features with a black mask is a piece of sublime audacity. _Vive le_ Marquis d’O! Is it not a pity that such an act cannot be copyrighted? Think of some really original idea and produce it on the stage and immediately hundreds of imitators will spring up like mushrooms in a single night. Not only will they copy your act, but your patter as well.

Two of our foremost American conjurers, Downs and Houdini, can testify to this fact. T. Nelson Downs, the “King of Coins,” a native of Marshaltown, Iowa, invented a number of original sleights with coins, which he embodied in an act known as the Miser’s Dream. A brilliant success was the result, whereupon a legion of imitators, billing themselves as Coin Kings, sprang up everywhere. Downs, however, remains the unapproachable manipulator of coins; his imitators have gone {304} to the wall, one after the other. Downs’ act is really unique, He is also a fine performer with cards. Edward VII of England, who has a penchant for entertainments of magic and mystery, had Downs give private séances for him, and was charmed with the American’s skill.

IX.

A word or two here concerning that brilliant entertainer, Harry Houdini, whose handcuff act is the sensation of two continents.

Mr. Houdini, whose real name is Weiss, was born April 6, 1873, in Appleton, Wisconsin. He began his career as an entertainer when but nine years of age, doing a contortion and trapeze act in Jack Hoffler’s “five cent” circus in Appleton. His mother took him away from the sawdust arena and apprenticed him to a locksmith. Here he was initiated into the mysteries of locks and keys, and laid the foundation of his great handcuff act. Locksmithing, despite the fact that King Louis XVI of France worked at it as an amateur, possessed no charms for the youthful Houdini. To use his own expression, “One day I made a bolt for the door, and never came back to my employer.” Again he went with a circus, where he acted as a conjurer, a clown and a ventriloquist. He made a specialty of the rope-tying business and performed occasionally with handcuffs, but without sensational results. Finally the circus landed in Rhode Island and opened up in a town where Sunday performances were forbidden by law, but were greatly desired by a large section of the population. As the fine was light, the proprietor ran the risk, and gave a show on the Sabbath. A summons followed, and each member of the troupe was fined. As Houdini epigrammatically put it: “The manager couldn’t find the fine, so we all found ourselves in confinement.” Houdini was locked up in a cell with a number of side-show freaks, the fat lady, the living skeleton, and the German giant. The fat lady was too wide for the compartment, the giant too long. With tears in their eyes they emplored Houdini to pick the lock and let them out. Finally the young conjurer consented, and dexterously picked the lock, whereupon he and his companions {305} marched out of the jail in triumph, and paraded down the main street of the town in Indian file, to the great amusement of the populace. Houdini was rearrested on the charge of jail-breaking, but the judge let him off with a reprimand. This event decided his career. He became a “Handcuff King.”

(The Handcuff King)]

His salary at the Alhambra Theatre, London, was $300 a week. One week at St. Petersburg, Russia, netted him over $2,000. He appeared before royalty. {306}

The handcuff act when exhibited with the proper _mise en scène_ is certainly very mystifying and calculated to produce a profound impression on the minds of susceptible people. Taking the cue from the Davenport Brothers, Houdini might have advertised himself as a spirit medium, thereby creating a great sensation. But he preferred not to play the charlatan. I am not personally acquainted with his method of working the trick, therefore I express no opinion on the subject, except to say that the locks of the handcuffs are _picked_ with a key of some {307} kind which is adroitly secreted about the person of the performer; or some soft piece of iron or copper wire which can be converted into a skeleton key. In the event of his being stripped naked (as often occurs in the case of Houdini) the key is probably hidden in the nose, ear, mouth, or bushy hair of the Handcuff King—or else slipped to him by a confederate, or concealed in a pocket in the drapery of the cabinet. I quote the following from the _Strand Magazine_ (Sept., 1903):

“For a man fettered with handcuffs, leg-irons, and chains to free himself in less time than it has taken to fasten him has long been so mystifying a performance that many people have acquired the impression that it bordered on the supernatural. The secret is, however, like many of the best tricks ever invented, in reality a surprisingly simple one.

“In the first place, it must be remembered that handcuffs such as are used by Scotland Yard are constructed with spring-locks, which are fastened or released by means of a key, or some article which answers the same purpose, which pulls back the spring. Without the aid of such a key it is impossible for any human being to free himself from the regulation handcuffs employed by the police. And herein lies the whole {308} secret—the performer _has_ a key, or rather several keys. All his ingenuity is exercised in concealing these about his person, or inside the cabinet to which he retires to release himself after being, to all appearances, helplessly secured.

“Some of these keys are concealed in the framework of the cabinet, which is generally constructed of piping, having additional pieces which appear to be essential portions of the framework, but which in reality are only intended to hold the keys. Other keys the performer keeps disposed about his person in sundry small pockets especially made for the purpose, and so arranged that he is able to place his hand upon some one or other of them in whatever position he may be. The best places for concealment are—first, a pocket between the knees, to permit the key to be reached when the performer is fastened in a crouched position; secondly, a pocket about six inches up inside the leg of the trousers; thirdly, a key carried in the hip pocket of the trousers, for use when pinioned with the arms behind the back; and finally, a small pocket inside the top of the waistcoat, or wherever it may be found convenient.

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“Let us now turn to the photographs, which have been especially taken for this article, and which render the whole proceeding very clear. In Fig. 1 the performer is fastened with six pairs of handcuffs. In such a position it seems impossible that he can free himself; but by putting his hands over his head and down his coat collar he has caught the end of a silk handkerchief thrust into the breast of his waistcoat, to which a key is attached. Fig. 2 shows the handkerchief and key drawn to the front; while Fig. 3 shows the key inserted in the lock.

“Fig. 4 shows the method employed when the position is such that it is impossible, owing to the awkwardness of the attitude, to pull the lock back. A piece of violin string is made into a loop and kept inside the cabinet. When it is impossible to draw the key, and with it the lock spring, with the fingers, the loop is put over the key, the heel of the boot placed {310} in the other end of the loop, and the lock is then easily drawn back. After one pair has been opened the others follow as a matter of course.

“Figs. 5 and 6 show another position, the key this time being obtained from the waistcoat. Fig. 7 shows one of the most difficult positions in which it is possible to be placed. The silk handkerchief shown is just peeping from the waistcoat, and is brought out by the aid of the tongue, it being possible to draw out a good silk by licking it. In Fig. 8 the performer has rolled over and obtained a good hold of the handkerchief, which, by a quick jerk of the head, he throws over his back, and eventually gets hold of it with his hands, as shown in Fig. 9. If the key falls to the floor he rolls over and picks it up, the rattle of the handcuffs hiding the sound of the falling key. His next movement is to free his hands from his feet, which he does in the manner already described. The key for this position can also be obtained from the leg of the trousers.

(The performer is drawing out the handkerchief with his tongue.)]

“Fig. 10 shows the implements of torture and the condition of the performer’s wrists after an exhibition. The special keys {312} are split with a saw about half an inch down, to allow for variation in the sizes of various locks (Fig. 11). It should be understood that an expert, when about to give a performance, inquires what position it is intended to place him in. He then causes, as an introduction, a few pairs of his own handcuffs to be placed on his wrists, and while freeing himself from these in his cabinet he arranges his keys to suit the position in which he will next be placed. Other implements besides keys are also used: a piece of bent wire is often quite sufficient. Most experts are also conjurers, and ‘palm’ the key, especially in the case of a nude test, when they are stripped and locked up in a cell; or they make use of a concealing key, which is made telescopic, the handle being constructed to close down the side of {313} the key, and the whole being fixed under the toes by a piece of shoemaker’s wax and detached when inside the cell.

(Showing the Condition of the Wrists after an Exhibition.)]

“Although, when the secret is explained, it seems very easy to accomplish, it must be understood that it is necessary for a successful performer to possess very hard, strong wrists and abundance of finger strength, and to be a man of some resource. It is almost impossible for any person to fasten an expert securely unless he himself understands the secret of the method of escape, and even then he may not be successful. On one occasion a performer underwent a severe test by a person who understood the secret, and therefore did not use any keys whatever, but by a very ingenious method overcame the efforts of the gentleman in question to fasten him. He obtained some very small gold-filled wire and made it into the form of a wire ring, which was partly covered by a broad gold one, to which the wire ring was attached. Thus prepared he underwent the test, unwrapping the wire ring when in the cabinet. Needless to state, in a very short time he was free.

“Handcuffs are sometimes brought to fetter the performer with the locks plugged or otherwise tampered with. But it is the performer’s own fault if he is trapped. It is a very easy matter to tamper with the locks—a few lead pellets dropped {314} down the barrel will effectually prevent the lock from being drawn. This method has often been attempted, but not successfully.

“Now that the methods have been explained and illustrated, it will be very easily perceived that there is nothing supernatural about the secret of handcuff manipulation.”

Houdini is not only a Handcuff King, but a skillful performer with cards. When too many imitators shall have made his specialty a drug on the market, he can take to some other branch of conjuring. He has a very fine trunk illusion which he often combines with his handcuff act. For seven years past he has been collecting data for an extensive biographical encyclopedia of magicians. In his travels on the continent of Europe he has visited the homes and haunts of famous conjurers of the past and secured valuable material for his prospective book. Thanks to this interesting man, photographs of the tombs of Robert-Houdin and Bosco have been made, and considerable light thrown on their careers. In a letter to me, October 9, 1905, he says: “When in Russia, I searched in vain for the grave of the fascinating Pinetti—that prestidigitateur _par excellence_ of the eighteenth century—but, alas, my labors were not rewarded. But in St. Petersburg I picked up an exceedingly rare portrait of Pinetti, which I prize highly and which will form the frontispiece to my book on magicians.” Houdini is a reincarnation of Sir Walter Scott’s Old Mortality, who went about furbishing up the tombstones of the illustrious dead of his faith. When at home (New York City), Harry Houdini lives among his books and curios. He has also a handsome farm in Massachusetts. Houdini’s brother, under the stage name of Hardeen, is also a handcuff expert.

X.

In this review of magicians I have met, I must not fail to mention Charles Edwin Fields of the Royal Aquarium and Crystal Palace, London, England. This veteran of the wand was born in London, May 15, 1835, and received a good education at private academies in England and France. He has appeared before royalty and instructed hundreds of people in {315} the mystic art. In the days when magic literature was sparse, Prof. Fields obtained large sums of money from wealthy amateurs for the secrets of tricks. Alas, the golden age of wizardry has passed. Magic is an “open secret.” The Professor’s occupation is gone.

I come now to François de Villiers, the French illusionist, who is an excellent performer. He is able to invest the simplest parlor trick with a halo of interest, thanks to his wit and bonhomie. He was born in the Island of Malta, where Cagliostro went to work in the chemical laboratory of the Grand Commander Pinto. De Villiers when but a callow youth ran away from the parental home and joined a French circus which happened to be touring the Island of Malta. He wandered all over the continent of Europe with the knights of the sawdust circle, playing many parts, acrobat, clown and conjurer. Finally he took up magic as a profession.

De Villiers next drifted to India, where he became a subject of the British crown. Being of an adventurous nature, he joined a cavalry regiment and wore the khaki of the Queen. When his term of enlistment had expired, he went to Spain and fought valiantly under the banner of Don Carlos. Captured by the government forces, he was tried as a rebel and condemned to be shot, but his sentence was commuted to banishment, thanks to the timely intervention of the British Ambassador, to whom he had appealed for aid. De Villiers is now a naturalized citizen of the United States and his home is in New York City.

Ziska is a magician of ability and possessed of much originality. Assisted by Mr. King, he does an act in which magic is blended with comedy. It is entitled “The Magician and His Valet.” The conjurer is very clever and the valet very clumsy, but no exposés of the tricks are made; Mr. Ziska is too much of an artist to permit that.

J. Warren Keane is a clever manipulator of cards and billiard balls. He gives a pleasing act of magic.

Prof. Barney Ives is possessed of great originality. Some of his inventions have become famous. In this respect he is a rival to the celebrated Henry Hardin. {316}

De Biere and Stillwell are conjurers who are fast rising into prominence. Stillwell is a handkerchief manipulator.

Next in line we have Malini, Fred Hurd, Hal Merton and Maro, all of them clever magicians. Hurd’s rabbit and duck trick has to be seen to be appreciated. Maro is not only an excellent illusionist, but a musician and a crayon artist. Merton, a favorite in the lyceum field, was at one time the editor of “Mahatma.” Malini’s forte is cards, and he devotes most of his time to giving drawing-room and club entertainments. Of late years he has made London his home. Among the clever amateurs I have met may be mentioned Mr. Guy L. Baker, of Buffalo, N. Y., and Mr. LeRoy McCafferty and Mr. John J. Allen, of Washington, D. C. Mr. Baker is an excellent drawing-room conjurer and the originator of a novel method of working the rising card trick _à la_ de Kolta, by means of a clockwork apparatus in the body of a small table. Mr. McCafferty is good at hanky-panky, particularly with billiard balls; and Mr. Allen, an ardent student of the art of deception, bids fair to become a good entertainer.

Ere I bring this chapter to a close I must not neglect to pay a tribute to my old-time friend, Dr. Leonard Caughey, of Baltimore, Md., the finest amateur conjurer, rope-tying and cabinet medium I have ever met. A dentist by profession, he devoted his leisure time to magic. He died some fifteen years ago in Washington, D. C. His cousin, Mr. Charles M. Caughey, also an amateur prestidigitateur, is at present United States Consul to Palermo, Sicily, the birthplace of Cagliostro. From Dr. Caughey I received my first scientific instruction in the art of palming and mediumistic marvels. I owe him a debt of gratitude. In my little book “Hours With the Ghosts” I have described some of my adventures with this admirable amateur necromancer, who has passed from the lesser to the Greater Mysteries. Long before Professor Hoffmann had written his great treatise on “Modern Magic,” Dr. Caughey was thoroughly initiated into all branches of magic, something unusual in those days, and was giving splendid entertainments for churches, lyceums, etc. A fine mechanic, he made most of his apparatus, some of it of a very elaborate character. I imported Hoffmann’s {317} book from England and showed it to him. He was paralyzed with astonishment at the revelations contained in the volume and exclaimed, “The golden days of magic are over. The _Götterdämmerung_ (Twilight of the Gods) has come! The world will be as full of magicians as the Jersey coast is of mosquitoes. The palmy days of Herrmann, Houdin and Heller are ended.” His prophecy has been more or less fulfilled. The vail of Isis is lifted and the mysteries of magic laid open to all who care to delve in its literature and inform themselves. Alas, unscrupulous professionals have contributed to this state of things by exposing tricks on the stage for the benefit of the public at large. This is indeed killing outright the goose that lays the golden eggs. Initiate the _hoi polloi_ into the secrets of the cult, and magic will soon be relegated to the parlor as an after-dinner amusement, unless some absolutely original genius like Robert-Houdin or de Kolta arises and recreates the art. The Society of British Magicians, known as “The Magic Circle of Great Britain,” expels a member who wilfully exposes any magical trick or illusion on the stage. The Society of American Magicians comes out strongly against the reprehensible practice of stage exposés, but as yet has taken no steps to expel members who offend against the law. But that will doubtless come in time.

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THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX.

“Thus they placed Sphinxes before the gates of their temples, meaning by that to say that their theology contained all the secrets of wisdom under an enigmatic form.”—MARIETTE: _Voyage dans la Haute-Egypt_, Vol. II, p. 9.

I.

What is the meaning of this Egyptian Temple, transplanted from the banks of the Nile to prosaic London? The smoke and grime have attacked it and played sad havoc with its sandstone walls, painted with many hieroglyphics. The fog envelops it with a spectral embrace. No Sphinxes guard its portal. Alas, its glories have departed! But stop a bit! There is a gentleman in evening dress, with a tall hat pushed well back from his forehead, sitting in a small box-like receptacle on one side of the colossal entrance, his face framed in by a small window; and another man, similarly attired, standing at an iron wicket leading into the sanctum sanctorum. The temple, then, _is_ guarded by two up-to-date, flesh-and-blood Sphinxes in swallow-tail coats and opera hats. Ah me, what a travesty on the human-headed monsters of the land of Mizraim. See the long line of worshipers waiting to obtain admission to the Mysteries. Has the cult of Isis and Osiris been revived? The devotees deposit coins with Sphinx No. 1 and receive from him yellow tickets in exchange, the presentation of which to Sphinx No. 2 permits their entrance into the temple.

What does it all mean?

Dear reader, this is Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, London, and the people are crowding to see a conjuring exhibition by Colonel Stodare. His Sphinx trick is the great attraction.

Stodare is dust long ago, and the Sphinx no longer a mystery. Its riddle has been solved. {319}

(From the English edition of Hoffmann’s _Magic_. London, 1877.)]

{320}

But let us rehearse its history.

The Sphinx illusion, which has formed the basis of nearly all tricks performed by the aid of looking-glasses, was invented by Thomas Tobin, of the Polytechnic Institution, London. Colonel Stodare, the conjurer, had the honor of first introducing it to the world. The “London Times” (October 19, 1865) describes it as follows:

“Most intricate is the problem proposed by Colonel Stodare, when, in addition to his admirable feats of ventriloquism and legerdemain, he presents to his patrons a novel illusion called the ‘Sphinx.’ Placing upon an uncovered table a chest similar in size to the cases commonly occupied by stuffed dogs or foxes, he removes the side facing the spectators, and reveals a head attired after the fashion of an Egyptian Sphinx. To avoid the suspicion of ventriloquism, he retires to a distance from the figure, supposed to be too great for the practice of that art, taking his position on the border-line of the stalls and the area, while the chest is on the stage. Thus stationed, he calls upon the Sphinx to open its eyes, which it does—to smile, which it does also, though the habitual expression of its countenance is most melancholy, and to make a speech, which it does also, this being the miraculous part of the exhibition. Not only with perspicuity, but with something like eloquence, does it utter some twenty lines of verse; and while its countenance is animated and expressive, the movement of the lips, in which there is nothing mechanical, exactly corresponds to the sounds articulated.

“This certainly is one of the most extraordinary illusions ever presented to the public. That the speech is spoken by a human voice there is no doubt, but how is a head to be contrived which, being detached from anything like a body, confined in a case, which it completely fills, and placed on a bare-legged table, will accompany a speech, that apparently proceeds from its lips, with a strictly appropriate movement of the mouth, and a play of the countenance that is the reverse of mechanical? Eels, as we all know, can wriggle about after they have been chopped into half a dozen pieces; but a head that, like that of the Physician Douban, in the Arabian tales, pursues its eloquence after it has been severed from the body, scarcely comes within the reach of possibilities; unless, indeed, the old-fashioned assertion that ‘King Charles walked and talked half an hour after his head was cut off,’ is to be received, not as an illustration of defective punctuation, but as a positive historical statement.

“Davus might have solved the ‘Anthropoglossus,’ but Colonel Stodare presents us with a Sphinx that is really worthy of an Oedipus.”

II.

Mr. Alfred Thompson, the well known theatrical manager, attended one of Stodare’s performances at the Egyptian Hall, and was lucky enough to penetrate the secret of the Sphinx. In {321} an article contributed to the _New York Journal_, some twenty years ago, he writes:

“I happened to rise in my seat. In a moment the whole illusion was swept away, and all because of the lack of a silk handkerchief. As I stood up my eye caught, hovering between two of the table legs, the marks of two fingers, such marks as may often be seen on a mirror when the light falls at a certain angle upon it.

“Those two finger marks, though close to the carpet, gave me the key to the riddle of the Sphinx. In my mental photograph I saw the confederate kneeling behind the table, his head passing through superposed apertures, one in the top of the table, the other in the bottom of the box. The figure was concealed from view by two mirrors of pure silver-plated glass, set at such an angle as to reflect either side of the room (on the stage) in such a way that what to the eye was evidently the back of the same room seen beneath and beyond the table, was really only a reproduction of those sides visible in the mirrors between the legs of the table. {322}

“This Sphinx was the sensation of London for weeks following, and having occasion to go to Paris a few days later, I offered the secret to Robert-Houdin’s successor, Hamilton, who, however, refused my terms until he knew the trick. This delay of his was much regretted by him, for some other speculator produced the secret some three months later and made a colossal sensation in Paris with his ‘Decapite Parlant.’

“In the same year I introduced the illusion for the first time on the stage in the celebrated spectacle of ‘Babil and Bijou’ at Covent Garden Theatre. In the ballet of ‘The Seasons’ Mlle. Henriette Dor, one of the most poetical dancers ever seen, appeared as the White Rose, and I designed a large rose bud on its stalk, which, coming up through the bed of summer flowers, blossomed wide until from its open petals the beautiful Dor rose up, apparently materializing as she issued from the calix on the stalk. The ballet girls were so arranged in groups around three sides (not in front) as to aid the deception by their adjusted reflections in the mirrors.

“Practically it was the same trick—two mirrors at a right angle and a trap door. This curious trick was never improved on. It was added to and altered at the Polytechnic, where, among other adaptations of the same principle, was shown an animated tableau of Sir Joshua Reynolds’ famous cherubs. Three cherubs’ heads appeared in a moonlit sky, floating, and sang in sweet child voices the verses of an anthem.

“Curiously enough I met the original Sphinx not three years ago in the person of a business manager who had been Stodare’s agent, and only three months back one of those very cherubs in Mr. Fred Solomon, the comedian, who was then a chorister at the Chapel Royal, and who was threatened with all sorts of tortures if he let the cat or the cherub out of the bag.”

III.

One of the best explanations of the Sphinx is given by Professor Hoffmann in his work on magic. I quote as follows from him:

“For the benefit of those who have never seen this illusion presented upon the stage, we will describe its effect a little more minutely. The Sphinx is always made a separate portion of the entertainment, as it is necessary to lower the curtain for a few moments before and after its appearance, in order to arrange and remove the necessary preparations. The curtain rises, and reveals a round or oval table, supported upon three slender legs, and utterly devoid of drapery. This stands in a curtained recess of ten or twelve feet square, open on the side towards the audience. The performer comes forward bearing a cloth covered box, fifteen to twenty inches square, and places it upon the table already mentioned. He then unlocks the box, the front of which drops down, so as to give a perfect view of the interior, in which is seen a head of Egyptian fashion, and colored in perfect imitation of life. The performer now retires to a position in the very midst of the audience, and raising his wand, says in a tone of command, ‘Sphinx, awake!’ The Sphinx slowly opens its eyes, looking first to the front with a strong {323} gaze; then, as if gradually gaining consciousness, to the one side and the other, the head moving slightly with the eyes. Questions are put by the performer to the head, and are answered by it, the play of the mouth and features being in perfect harmony with the sounds uttered. Finally, in answer to a query of the operator, the Sphinx declaims a neatly turned oracle in verse. This concludes the exhibition, and the performer closes the box. Should the audience call for an encore, the performer addresses them to the following or some similar effect:

“ ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am glad that the Sphinx has afforded you satisfaction, and I should be only too pleased to be able to indulge the desire which you kindly testify of seeing it again. Unfortunately, this is not possible. The charm by which I am enabled, as you have seen, to revivify for a space the ashes of an ancient Egyptian, who lived and died some centuries ago, lasts but for fifteen minutes. That time has now expired, and the head which has astonished you with its mysterious eloquence has again returned to its original dust.’ As he speaks the last words, he again opens the box, and the head is found to have disappeared, leaving in its place a handful of ashes.

“This singular illusion depends upon the well-known principle, common to optics as to mechanics, that the ‘angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence.’ Thus, if a person standing at the point _a_, in Fig. 1, look into a mirror placed in the position indicated by the line _b c_, he will see reflected, not himself, but whatever object may be placed at the point _d_. By an ingenious application of this principle a looking-glass may be used to conceal a given object behind it, while at the same time an image reflected in the glass may be made to represent what would be presumably seen if no glass were there, and thus prevent the presence of the mirror from being suspected. This is the secret of the Sphinx. The table, as already mentioned, has three legs, one in front, and one at each side. Between these legs the spectator sees apparently the curtains at the back of the recess, but really a reflection of the curtains at the sides. The space between the middle leg and that on either side is occupied by pieces of looking-glass (see Fig. 2, which represents a ground plan of the arrangements), extending from _a_ to _b_, and _a_ to _c_. The glass extends quite down to the floor, which is covered with cloth of the same material and color as the surrounding curtains. The {324} spectators, therefore, looking towards the table, see above it the curtains at the back, and below it the reflection of the curtains at the sides; which, however, if the relative angles are properly arranged, appears to be simply the continuation or lower portion of the curtains at the back. The illusion is perfect, and the spectator, from the position assigned to him, cannot possibly discover, by the evidence of his senses, that he is looking at any other than an ordinary bare-legged table, with the background visible in the usual way.

“The rest is a very simple matter. The person who is to represent the Sphinx is beforehand placed, duly attired, underneath the table. There is a trap in the table through which he can pass his head at the proper moment. This trap is a round piece of wood, covered to match the surface of the table, and working on a hinge on the side nearest to the audience. It has no spring, but is kept closed by means of a button on the opposite side, and when released hangs down perpendicularly. It must be large enough to allow the passage of the somewhat elaborate headpiece of the Sphinx, and would therefore leave an open space visible round the neck. This difficulty is met by the expedient of having a wooden collar, the upper surface of which is a facsimile in size and pattern of the trap. This collar is fastened round the neck of the representative of the Sphinx. When he lifts his head up through the trap, the collar exactly fills the opening, and thus shows no break in the surface of the table. The box is bottomless, and when brought forward by the performer is empty. A little caution has to be observed in placing it upon the table, for, if the performer were to approach the table _from the side_, his legs would be reflected in the glass, and would thereby betray the secret. He must therefore make his appearance from some quarter _outside_ of the curtained recess, and advance to a position well in front of, and at some little distance from the table, when, by moving in a straight line from the audience towards the middle leg _a_, he prevents this inconvenient reflection. The placing the box upon the table, and the unlocking it, allow time for the representative of the Sphinx to get his head into position within it. This done, the box is opened, and the rest depends on the dramatic talent of the performer and his assistant. The performance being concluded, the box is again locked, and the head withdrawn, a handful of ashes being introduced on the trap in its stead.

“The angle at which the two mirrors should be set cannot be determined absolutely, but will vary according to the distance and position of the surrounding drapery.”

The above method is generally employed in working the Sphinx illusion, but it differs in one respect from that used by Colonel Stodare. In the Colonel’s presentation of the trick, the box was not _bottomless_. It had a trap in it corresponding with a similar trap in the top of the table. Stodare carried the mystic chest to the “run down” after the lid was closed, and then, by his ventriloquial power, caused a muffled voice to issue from the receptacle, presumably that of the Sphinx. Thus the spectators were led to believe that the head was still in the {325} box, and that the table had nothing whatever to do with the trick. On opening the chest great was the surprise of everyone to behold the head completely vanished, the heap of ashes having taken its place. This was a very clever bit of _mise en scène_, and showed what an artist Stodare was.

And now for a word or two concerning the career of the clever producer of the Sphinx. Colonel Stodare never smelt powder nor directed the manœuvres of a regiment of red coats. His title was self-assumed, to bedazzle the English public. He never wielded any weapon save a wooden wand tipped with ivory. But he did that to perfection. His real name was Alfred Inglis. Little or nothing is known of his early life and education. His first appearance was at the Egyptian Hall, London, on Easter Monday, April 17, 1865, when he introduced, for the first time in England, those celebrated illusions of Hindostan, the “Mango Tree” and the “Indian Basket.” It was on the occasion of his two-hundredth consecutive representation at the aforesaid hall that Stodare introduced the “Sphinx” trick, which at once attracted crowds. On Tuesday evening, November 21, 1865, he had the honor to appear before Queen Victoria, at Windsor Castle, on the occasion of the birthday of H. R. H. the Princess Royal, afterwards the Empress Frederick of Germany. Stodare died of consumption in 1866. He wrote two small treatises on magic: _The Art of Magic_ (1865) and _Stodare’s Fly-notes_ (1866).

IV.

The inventor of the Sphinx, Mr. Tobin, sold the secret to M. Talrich, of Paris, the proprietor of a wax-works exhibition on the Boulevard de la Madeline. Talrich called his collection of figures the Musée Français. Impressed with the success of Madame Tussaud’s “Chamber of Horrors,” in connection with her wax-works exhibition in London, Talrich transformed the “Talking Head” into the “Decapitated Speaker.” His presentation of the illusion was calculated to strike terror in the mind of the observer. Underneath his museum was a damp and mouldy cellar, which he fitted up for the exhibition. The visitor was conducted down a stairway, dimly lighted by a couple of antique {326} lamps suspended from the vaulted roof. When he reached the bottom he was suddenly confronted with a group of wax figures representing a scene under the Inquisition. Every detail of a torture chamber was given, such as is described by Victor Hugo in his _Notre Dame de Paris_. The cowled emissaries of the Holy Office were depicted in the act of putting a wretched victim to the torture. The light from a flambeau, held by one of the figures, illumined the ghastly scene. In this uncertain light everything was horribly majestic. Pushing onward and turning to the right, “the spectator passed through a dimly-lighted corridor, and found himself in front of a balustrade, breast-high, which extended across the entrance of a narrow recess. In the middle of this gloomy cellar, the floor of which was carpeted with musty straw, was seen a table, on which rested a human head, leaning slightly to one side and apparently asleep. On being addressed by the exhibitor the head raised itself, opened its eyes, and related its own history, including the details of its decapitation, after which it replied, in various languages, to questions put by those present.”

One day a party of young students, out for a lark, began shooting bread pellets at the head, in order to test whether it had entirely lost all sensation. The Decapitated One, in his wrath, abused them soundly, in language that savored more of modern Paris than the days of the Inquisition. This affair got noised abroad, and gay young boulevardiers made up regular parties to go and shoot pellets at the head; this amusement they called “pop-gun practice.” Some of these pellets, not so well “bred” (pardon the pun) as others, struck certain portions of the table which were apparently open, but from which they rebounded, clearly indicating that the supposed vacant space was really a sheet of looking-glass. M. Talrich then put a close-meshed wire grating between the spectators and their victim, but alas! the secret of the Inquisition was disclosed, and the palmy days of the Musée Francais were over. Says Houdin: “The cause of M. Talrich’s failure was the same that brought disaster to the Brothers Davenport. Too great confidence in the Parisian public led both parties to offer what, after all, were but ingenious conjuring tricks as supernatural phenomena.” {327}

V.

A few years ago, the eminent English novelist, H. Rider-Haggard, evolved from his elastic imagination a weird and wonderful romance of Darkest Africa, called “She, who must be obeyed.” It was redolent of magic and mystery. The beautiful sorceress, “She,” a damsel of Greek descent, had lived for centuries in the heart of Africa, ruling over generations of black subjects with an iron despotism, and subduing them by her necromantic power. She was worshiped as a goddess. Her immortality upon earth was due to the rejuvenating effects of the mystic fire of Kor, into which she plunged and renewed her youth at certain periods. Balling in love with a young English explorer, who had succeeded in penetrating into her realm, the Rosicrucian spell was broken, and the beautiful “She” shriveled up and expired in agony while attempting to bathe in the flames of Kor. The scene, as depicted by the novelist, is very awe-inspiring. The book had a great vogue in its day, and was dramatized with fine effect.

“Have you seen ‘She’?” was the apparently ungrammatical question asked by theatre-goers.