Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) [Transcriberâs note: The etext attempts to replicate the printed book as closely as possible. Many obvious errors in spelling and punctuation have been corrected. Certain consistently used archaic spellings have been retained (i.e. secresy, boquet, unforseen, caligraphy, caligrapher, conjuror, etc.) A list of corrections made follows the etext. Footnotes have been moved to the end of the text body.] MEMOIRS OF ROBERT-HOUDIN AMBASSADOR, AUTHOR, AND CONJURER. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. EDITED BY DR. R. SHELTON MACKENZIE. PHILADELPHIA: GEO. G. EVANS, PUBLISHER, NO. 439 CHESTNUT STREET. 1859. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by G. G. EVANS, In the Clerkâs Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY RINWALT & CO., 34 SOUTH THIRD STREET. EDITORâS PREFACE. A man may not only âtake his own life,â by writing his autobiography, without committing _felo de se_, but may carry himself into future time by producing a book which the world will not willingly let die. This is what M. Robert-Houdin, the greatest artist in what is called Conjuring, has lately done in the remarkable book _Confidences dâun Prestigiteur_, a faithful translation of which is here presented to the American reading public. The work has had the greatest success in Europe, from its lively style as well as the various information it contains, historical and philosophical, on the practice and principles of sleight-of-hand, and the other details, mental as well as mechanical, which unite to make perfect the exhibition of White Magic, the antipodes of what our forefathers knew, persecuted, and punished as the Black Art. Houdin has been considered of such importance and interest in France, that in Didotâs _Nouvelle Biographie GÃ©nÃ©rale_, now in course of publication at Paris, a whole page is given to him. From this memoir, and from his own account in the pages which follow, we learn that he was born at Blois, on the 6th December, 1805,--that his father, a watchmaker in that city, gave him a good education at the College of Orleans,--that his inclination for _escamotage_ (or juggling) was so decided as to make him averse to pursue his fatherâs trade,--that he early exhibited great taste for mechanical inventions, which he so successfully cultivated that, at the Paris Exhibition of 1844, he was awarded a medal for the ingenious construction of several automata,--that, having studied the displays of the great masters on the art of juggling, he opened a theatre of his own, in the Palais Royal in Paris, to which his celebrated _soirÃ©es fantastiques_ attracted crowds,--that, in 1848, when the Revolution had ruined all theatrical speculations in Paris, he visited London, where his performances at St. Jamesâs Theatre were universally attractive and lucrative,--that he made a tour through Great Britain with equal success, returning to Paris when France had settled down quietly under the rule of a President,--that he subsequently visited many other parts of Europe, every where received with distinction and applause,--that at the Great Parisian Exhibition of 1855, he was awarded the gold medal for his scientific application of electricity to clocks,--that, shortly after, he closed ten years of active public life by relinquishing his theatre to Mr. Hamilton, his brother-in-law, retiring with a well-earned competency to Blois,--and that, in 1857, at the special request of the French Government, which desired to lessen the influence of the Marabouts, whose conjuring tricks, accepted as actual magic by the Arabs, gave them too much influence, he went to Algeria, as a sort of Ambassador, to play off his tricks against theirs, and, by greater marvels than they could shew, destroy the _prestige_ which they had acquired. He so completely succeeded that the Arabs lost all faith in the miracles of the Marabouts, and thus was destroyed an influence very dangerous to the French Government. In his retirement, to which he has returned, Houdin wrote his _Confidences_, and is now devoting himself to scientific researches connected with electricity. Before the appearance of his own work, M. Hatin had published, in 1857, _Robert-Houdin, sa vie, ses Åuvres, son thÃ©Ã¢tre_. The French and English critics have generally and warmly eulogized M. Houdinâs _Confidences_, and I am persuaded that, on this side of the Atlantic, it will be considered an instructive as well as an amusing volume. One error which M. Houdin makes must not be passed over. His account of M. de Kempelenâs celebrated automaton chess-player (afterwards MaÃ«lzelâs) is entirely wrong. This remarkable piece of mechanism was constructed in 1769, and not in 1796; it was the Empress Maria-Theresa of Austria who played with it, and not Catherine II. of Russia; it was in 1783 that it first visited Paris, where it played at the CafÃ© de la RÃ©gence; it was not taken to London until 1784; and again in 1819; it was brought to America in 1825, by M. MaÃ«lzel, and visited our principal cities, its chief resting-place being Philadelphia; M. MaÃ«lzelâs death was in 1838, on the voyage from Cuba to the United States, and not, as M. Houdin says, on his return to France; and the automaton, so far from being taken back to France, was sold by auction here, finally purchased by the late Dr. J. K. Mitchell, of Philadelphia, reconstructed by him, and finally deposited in the Chinese Museum, (formerly Pealeâs,) where it was consumed in the great fire which destroyed the National Theatre, (now the site of the Continental Hotel, corner of Ninth and Chestnut streets,) and extending to the Chinese Museum, burnt it down on July 5th, 1854. An interesting account of the Automaton Chess-Player, written by Professor George Allen, of this city, will be found in âThe Book of the First American Chess Congress,â recently published in New York. M. Houdin is engaged now in writing a volume explaining the manner in which sleight-of-hand and other conjuring tricks and deceptions are performed. I have added an Index to this volume, which I trust will be accepted as useful. R. SHELTON MACKENZIE. PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 26, 1859. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. .....PAGE My Birth and Parentage--My Home--The Lessons of Colonel Bernard--Paternal Ambition--My first Mechanical Attempts--Had I but a Rat!--A Prisonerâs Industry--The AbbÃ© LariviÃ¨re--My Word of Honor--Farewell to my darling Tools......17 CHAPTER II. A Country Idler--Dr. Carlosbach, Conjurer and Professor of Mystification--The Sand-bag and the Stirrup Trick--I turn Lawyerâs Clerk, and the Minutes appear to me very long--A small Automaton--A respectful Protest--I mount a Step in the Office--A Machine of Porterâs Power--The Acrobatic Canaries--Monsieur Rogerâs Remonstrances--My Father decides that I shall follow my bent......26 CHAPTER III. My Cousin Robert--The most important Event in my Life--How a Man becomes a Sorcerer--My first Sleight-of-Hand Feat--An utter Failure--Practising the Eye and the Hand--Curious Experiment in Prestidigitation--Monsieur Noriet--An Action more ingenious than delicate--I am Poisoned--Influence of Delirium......42 CHAPTER IV. I return to Life--A strange Doctor--Torrini and Antonio: a Conjurer and a Fanatic for Music--A Murdererâs Confession--A perambulating House--The Fair at Angers--A portable Theatre--I witness for the first Time a Conjuring Performance--The blind Manâs Game at Piquet--A Dangerous Rival--Signor Castelli eats a Man alive......55 CHAPTER V. Antonioâs Confessions--How to gain Public Applause--The Count de ----, Mountebank--I repair an Automaton--A Mechanicianâs Shop on Wheels--Nomadic Life--Happy Existence--Torriniâs Lessons--His Opinions about Sleight-of-Hand--A Fashionable Greek, Victim of his own Swindling--The Conjurer Comus--A Duel at Piquet--Torrini proclaimed Conqueror--Revelations--New Catastrophe--Poor Torrini!.....73 CHAPTER VI. Torrini relates his Life--Treachery of Chevalier Pinetti--A Conjurer through Malice--A Race between two Magicians--Death of Pinetti--Exhibits before Pius VII.--The Cardinalâs Chronometer--Twelve Hundred Francs spent on a Trick--Antonio and Antonia--The most bitter of Mystifications--Constantinople......90 CHAPTER VII. Continuation of Torriniâs History--The Grand Turk orders a Performance--A marvellous Trick--A Page cut in two--Pitying Protest of the Harem--Agreeable Surprise--Return to France--Torriniâs Son Killed--Madness--Decay--My first Performance--An annoying Accident--I return Home......121 CHAPTER VIII. The Prodigal Son--Mademoiselle Houdin--I go to Paris--My Marriage--Comte--Studies of the Public--A skillful Manager--Rose-colored Tickets--A Musky Style--The King of Hearts--Ventriloquism--The Mystifiers Mystified--Father Roujol--Jules de RovÃ¨re--Origin of the word _prestidigitateur_......136 CHAPTER IX. Celebrated Automata--A Brazen Fly--The Artificial Man--Albertus Magnus and St. Thomas dâAquinas--Vaucanson--His Duck--His Flute-Player--Curious Details--The Automaton Chess-Player--Interesting Episode--Catherine II. and M. de Kempelen--I repair the Componium--Unexpected Success......155 CHAPTER X. An Inventorâs Calculations--One Hundred Thousand Francs a Year by an Inkstand: Deception--My new Automata--The First Magician in France: Decadence--I meet Antonio--Bosco--The Trick with the Cups--An Execution--Resurrection of the Criminals--Mistake in a Head--The Canary rewarded......176 CHAPTER XI. A Reverse of Fortune--Cookery and Clockwork--The Artistâs Home--Invention of an Automaton--Voluntary Exile--A modest Villa--The Inconveniences of a Speciality--Two August Visitors--The Throat of a mechanical Nightingale--The Tiou and the Rrrrrrrrouit--Seven Thousand Francs earned by making Filings......192 CHAPTER XII. The Inventive Genius of a Sugar-baker--Philippe the Magician--His Comic Adventures--Description of his Performance--Exposition of 1844--The King and Royal Family visit my Automata......221 CHAPTER XIII. My proposed Reforms--I build a Theatre in the Palais Royal--Formalities--General Rehearsal--Singular Effect of my Performance--The Largest and Smallest Theatre in Paris--Tribulation--My first Performance--Panic--Discouragement--A Fallible Prophet--Recovery--Success......234 CHAPTER XIV. New Studies--A Comic Journal--Invention of Second Sight--Curious Experiments--An enthusiastic Spectator--Danger of being a Sorcerer--A Philter or your Life--Way to get rid of Bores--An Electric Touch--I perform at the Vaudeville--Struggles with the Incredulous--Interesting Details......253 CHAPTER XV. Seductions of a Theatrical Agent--How to gain One Hundred Thousand Francs--I start for Brussels--A lucky Two-Sou Piece--Miseries of professional Travelling--The Park Theatre--Tyranny of a Porter--Full House--Small Receipts--Deceptions--Return to Paris......273 CHAPTER XVI. Reopening of my Fantastic SoirÃ©es--Minor Miseries of Good Luck--Inconvenience of a small Theatre--My Room taken by Storm--A gratuitous Performance--A conscientious Audience--Pleasant Story about a Black Silk Cap--I perform at the ChÃ¢teau of St. Cloud--Cagliostroâs Casket--Holidays......294 CHAPTER XVII. New Experiments--AÃ«rial Suspension, &c.--A Performance at the OdÃ©on--A Friend in Need--1848--The Theatre deserted--I leave Paris for London--Manager Mitchell--Publicity in England--The Great Wizard--A Butter-mould used as a Puff--Singular Bills--A Prize for the best Pun......312 CHAPTER XVIII. The St. Jamesâs Theatre--Invasion of England by French Performers--A FÃªte patronised by the Queen--The Diplomatist and the Sleight-of-Hand Man--Three Thousand Pounds taken at one Haul--I perform at Manchester--The Spectators in the Pillory--What capital CuraÃ§oa!--A Torrent of Wine--A Catastrophe--Performance at Buckingham Palace--A Wizardâs Repast......330 CHAPTER XIX. An Optimist Manager--Three Spectators in a Room--A Magical Collation--The Colchester Public and the Nuts--I return to France--I give up my Theatre--A Farewell Tour--I retire to St. Gervais--An Academicianâs Predictions......359 CHAPTER XX. Travels in Algeria--Convocation of the Chieftains--Performances before the Arabs--A Kabyle rendered powerless--Invulnerability--A Moor disappears--Panic and Flight of the Audience--Reconciliation--The Sect of AÃ¯ssaoua--Their pretended Miracles......371 CHAPTER XXI. Excursion in the Interior of Africa--The Abode of a Bash-Aga--A comical Repast--A SoirÃ©e of Arab Dignitaries--A Marabout mystified--Tent-life in Algeria--I return to France--A terrible Storm--Conclusion......398 CHAPTER XXII. A COURSE OF MIRACLES......422 INDEX......437 THE AUTHORâS OVERTURE. SAINT GERVAIS, NEAR BLOIS, September, 1858. Eight oâclock has just struck: my wife and children are by my side. I have spent one of those pleasant days which tranquillity, work, and study can alone secure.--With no regret for the past, with no fear for the future, I am--I am not afraid to say it--as happy as man can be. And yet, at each vibration of this mysterious hour, my pulse starts, my temples throb, and I can scarce breathe, so much do I feel the want of air and motion. I can reply to no questions, so thoroughly am I lost in a strange and delirious reverie. Shall I confess to you, reader? And why not? for this electrical effect is not of a nature to be easily understood by you. The reason for my emotion being extreme at this moment is, that, during my professional career, eight oâclock was the moment when I must appear before the public. Then, with my eye eagerly fixed on the hole in the curtain, I surveyed with intense pleasure the crowd that flocked in to see me. Then, as now, my heart beat, for I was proud and happy of such success. At times, too, a doubt, a feeling of uneasiness, would be mingled with my pleasure. âHeavens!â I would say to myself, in terror, âam I so sure of myself as to deserve such anxiety to see me?â But, soon reassured by the past, I waited with greater calmness the signal for the curtain to draw up. I then walked on the stage: I was near the foot-lights, before my judges--but no, I err--before my kind spectators, whose applause I was in hopes to gain. Do you now understand, reader, all the reminiscences this hour evokes in me, and the solemn feeling that continually occurs to me when the clock strikes? These emotions and souvenirs are not at all painful to me: on the contrary, I summon them up with pleasure. At times I even mentally transport myself to my stage, in order to prolong them. There, as before, I ring the bell, the curtain rises, I see my audience again, and, under the charm of this sweet illusion, I delight in telling them the most interesting episodes of my professional life. I tell them how a man learns his real vocation, how the struggle with difficulties of every nature begins, how, in fact---- But why should I not convert this fiction into a reality? Could I not, each evening when the clock strikes eight, continue my performances under another form? My public shall be the reader, and my stage a book. This idea pleases me: I accept it with joy, and immediately give way to the sweet illusion. Already I fancy myself in the presence of spectators whose kindness encourages me. I imagine they are waiting for me--they are listening eagerly. Without further hesitation I begin. ROBERT-HOUDIN. MEMOIRS OF ROBERT-HOUDIN. CHAPTER I. My Birth and Parentage--My Home--The Lessons of Colonel Bernard--Paternal Ambition--My first Mechanical Attempts--Had I but a Rat!--A Prisonerâs Industry--The AbbÃ© LariviÃ¨re--My Word of Honor--Farewell to my darling Tools. In conformity with the traditional custom which expects every man who writes his memoirs--or not to use too strong language, his confessions--to display his patent of gentility, I commence by stating to my readers, with a certain degree of pride, that I was born at Blois, the birthplace of Louis XII., surnamed the âFather of his People,â and of Denis Papin, the illustrious inventor of the steam-engine. So much for my native town. As for my family, it would only appear natural, regard being had to the art to which I devoted my life, that I should display in my family tree the name of Robert _le Diable_, or of some mediÃ¦val sorcerer; but, being the very slave of truth, I will content myself with stating that my father was a watchmaker. Though he did not rise to the elevation of the Berthouds and the Breguets, my father was reputed to be very skilful in his profession. In fact, I am only displaying our hereditary modesty when I say that my fatherâs talents were confined to a single art; for, in truth, nature had adapted him for various branches of mechanics, and the activity of his mind led him to try them all with equal ardor. An excellent engraver, a jeweller of the greatest taste, he at the same time could carve the arm or leg for some fractured statuette, restore the enamel on any time-worn porcelain, or even repair musical snuff-boxes, which were very fashionable in those days. The skill he evinced in these varied arts at length procured him a most numerous body of customers; but, unfortunately, he was wont to make any repairs not strictly connected with his own business for the mere pleasure. In this house, which I may almost term artistic, and in the midst of tools and implements in which I was destined to take so lively an interest, I was born and educated. I possess an excellent memory, still, though my reminiscences date back so far, I cannot remember the day of my birth. I have learned since, however, that it was the 6th of December, 1805. I am inclined to believe that I came into the world with a file or a hammer in my hand, for, from my earliest youth, those implements were my toys and delight: I learned how to use them as other children learn to walk and talk. I need not say that my excellent mother had frequently to wipe away the young mechanicâs tears, when the hammer, badly directed, struck my fingers. As for my father, he laughed at these slight accidents, and said, jokingly, that it was a capital way of driving my profession into me, and that, as I was a wonderful lad, I could not but become an extraordinary workman. I do not pretend that I ever realized the paternal predictions, but it is certain that I have ever felt an irresistible inclination for mechanism. How often, in my infantile dreams, did a benevolent fairy open before me the door of a mysterious El Dorado, where tools of every description were piled up. The delight which these dreams produced on me, were the same as any other child feels when his fancy summons up before him a fantastic country where the houses are made of chocolate, the stones of sugar candy, and the men of gingerbread. It is difficult to understand this fever for tools; the mechanic, the artist adores them, and would ruin himself to obtain them. Tools, in fact, are to him what a MS. is to the archÃ¦ologist, a coin to the antiquary, or a pack of cards to a gambler: in a word they are the implements by which a ruling passion is fed. By the time I was eight years of age I had furnished proofs of my ability, partly through the kindness of an excellent neighbor, and partly through a dangerous illness, when my forced idleness gave me leisure to exercise my natural dexterity. This neighbor, M. Bernard, was a colonel on half-pay. Having been a prisoner for many years, he had learned how to make an infinity of toys, which he taught me as an amusement, and I profited so well by his lessons, that in a very short time I could equal my master. I fancy I can still see and hear this old soldier, when, passing his hand over his heavy grey moustache, he exclaimed with energetic satisfaction, âWhy, the young scamp can do anything he likes.â This compliment flattered my childish vanity, and I redoubled my efforts to deserve it. With my illness my pleasures ended; I was sent to school, and from that time I had few opportunities for indulging in my favorite tasks. Still, on my holidays, I used to return to my fatherâs workshop with delight, and, yet, I must have been a great torment to that excellent parent. Owing to my want of skill, I now and then broke some tool, and although I might try to conceal it, the blame was generally laid on me, and, as a punishment, I was forbidden to enter the workshop. But it was of no use attempting to keep me from my hobby; the prohibition had to be continually renewed. Hence it was thought advisable to attack the evil at the root, and I must be sent away from home. Although my father liked his trade, experience had taught him that a watchmaker rarely makes a fortune in a country town; in his paternal ambition he, therefore, dreamed a more brilliant destiny for me, and he formed the determination of giving me a liberal education, for which I shall always feel grateful to him. He sent me to college at Orleans. I was then eleven years of age. Let who will sing the praises of school life; for my own part I can safely state, that, though I was not averse from study, the happiest day I spent in our monastic seminary was that on which I left it for good. However, once entered, I accepted my lot with resignation, and became in a short time a perfect schoolboy. In my play hours my time was well employed, for I spent the greater portion of it in making pieces of mechanism. Thus I made snares, gins, and mouse-traps, their excellent arrangement, and perhaps the dainty bait as well, producing me a great number of prisoners. I had built for them a charming open cage, in which I had fixed up a miniature gymnastic machinery. My prisoners, while taking their ease, set in motion a variety of machines, which caused a most agreeable surprise. One of my inventions more especially attracted the admiration of my comrades; it was a method of raising water by means of a pump made almost entirely of quills. A mouse, harnessed like a horse, was intended to set this Lilliputian machine in motion by the muscular strength of its legs; but, unfortunately, my docile animal, though perfectly willing, could not overcome the resistance of the cog-wheels, and I was forced, to my great regret, to lend it a hand. âAh! if I only had a rat!â I said to myself, in my disappointment, âhow famously it would work!â A rat! But how to get one? That appeared to me an insurmountable difficulty, but, after all, it was not so. One day, having been caught in the act of breaking bounds by a monitor, I was awarded twelve hoursâ imprisonment. This punishment, which I suffered for the first time, produced a violent effect on me: but in the midst of the sorrowful reflections inspired by the solitude, an idea dissipated my melancholy thoughts by offering a famous suggestion. I knew that at nightfall the rats used to come from an adjacent church into the cell where I was confined, to regale on the bread-crumbs left by prisoners. It was a capital opportunity to obtain one of the animals I required; and as I would not let it slip, I straight-way set about inventing a rat-trap. My only materials were a pitcher holding water, and, consequently, my ideas were confined exclusively to this. I, therefore, made the following arrangement. I began by emptying my pitcher; then, after putting in a piece of bread, I laid it down so that the orifice was on a level with the ground. My object was to attract the victim by this dainty into the trap. A brick which I dug up would serve to close the opening, but as it was impossible for me in the darkness to notice the exact moment for cutting off the prisonerâs retreat, I laid near the bread a piece of paper which would rustle as the rat passed over it. As soon as night set in, I crouched close to my pitcher, and, holding the brick in my hand, I awaited with feverish anxiety the arrival of my guests. The pleasure I anticipated from the capture must have been excessive to overcome my timidity when I heard the first leaps of my savage visitors. I confess that the antics they performed round my legs occasioned me great nervousness, for I knew not how far the voracity of these intrepid rodents might extend; still, I kept my ground, not making the slightest movement, through fear of compromising the success of my scheme, and was prepared to offer the assailants a vigorous resistance in case of an attack. More than an hour passed in vain expectation, and I was beginning to despair of the success of my trap, when I fancied I heard the slight sound I hoped for as a signal. I laid the brick on the mouth of the pitcher directly, and raised it up; the shrill cries inside convinced me of my success, and I began a pÃ¦an of triumph, both to celebrate my victory and to frighten away my prisonerâs comrades. The porter, when he came to release me, helped me to master my rat by fastening a piece of twine to one of his hind legs, and burdened with my precious booty, I proceeded to the dormitory, where masters and pupils had been asleep for a long time. I was glad enough to sleep too, but a difficulty presented itself--how should I bestow my prisoner? At length a bright idea occurred to me, fully worthy of a schoolboy: it was to thrust the rat headforemost into one of my shoes. After fastening the twine to the leg of my bed, I pushed the shoe into one of my stockings, and placed the whole in the leg of my trousers. This being accomplished, I believed I could go to bed without the slightest cause for apprehension. The next morning, at five exactly, the inspector took a turn through the dormitory to arouse the sleepers. âDress yourself directly,â he said, in that amiable voice peculiar to gentlemen who have risen too soon. I proceeded to obey but I was fated to dire disgrace: the rat I had packed away so carefully, not finding its quarters airy enough, had thought proper to gnaw through my shoe, my stocking, and my trouser, and was taking the air through this improvised window. Fortunately, it had not cut through the retaining string, so the rest was a trifle. But the inspector did not regard matters in the same light as I did. The capture of a rat and the injury to my clothes were considered further aggravations of my previous offence, and he sent in a lengthy report to the head-master. I was obliged to appear before the latter dressed in the clothes that bore the proof of my offence, and, by an unlucky coincidence, shoe, stocking and trouser were all injured on the same leg. The AbbÃ© LariviÃ¨re (our head-master) managed the college with truly paternal care; ever just, and prone by nature to forgiveness, he was adored by his pupils, and to be out of favor with him was regarded as the severest punishment. âWell, Robert,â he said to me, looking kindly over the spectacles which bridged the end of his nose, âI understand you have been guilty of grave faults. Come, tell me the whole truth.â I possessed at that time a quality which, I trust, I have not lost since, and that is extreme frankness. I gave the AbbÃ© a full account of my misdeeds, and my sincerity gained me pardon. The head-master, after a vain attempt to repress it, burst into a loud fit of laughter, on hearing the catastrophe of my adventures. Still, he ended his gentle lecture in the following words: âI will not scold you any more, Robert. I believe in your repentance: twelve hoursâ confinement are sufficient punishment, and I grant you your release. I will do more: though you are very young, I will treat you as a man--of honor, though--you understand me? You will pledge me your word not only that you will not commit your old faults again, but, as your passion for mechanics makes you often neglect your lessons, you must promise to give up your tools, and devote yourself henceforth to study.â âOh yes, sir, I give you my word,â I exclaimed, moved to tears by such unexpected indulgence; âand I can assure you, you will never repent having put faith in my promise.â I made up my mind to keep my pledge, although I was fully aware of all the difficulties, which were so many stumbling-blocks in that path of virtue I wished to follow. Much trouble, I had too, at first, in withstanding the jests and sarcasms of the idler of my comrades, who, in order to hide their own bad conduct, strove to make all weak characters their accomplices. Still, I broke with them all. Sharpest pang of all, though, was the sacrifice I made in burning my vessels--that is, in putting aside my cages and their contents; I even forgot my tools, and thus, free from all external distraction, I devoted myself entirely to my Greek and Latin studies. The praise I received from the AbbÃ© LariviÃ¨re, who prided himself in having noticed in me the stuff for an excellent scholar, rewarded me for this sublime effort, and I may say I became, thenceforth, one of the most studious and attentive lads in the college. At times, I certainly regretted my tools and my darling machinery, but recollecting my promise to the head-master, I held firm against all temptation. All I allowed myself was to set down by stealth on paper a few ideas that occurred to me, though I did not know whether I should ever have a chance to put them in practice. At length the moment arrived for my leaving college; my studies were completed--I was eighteen years of age. CHAPTER II. A Country Idler--Dr. Carlosbach, Conjurer and Professor of Mystification--The Sand-bag and the Stirrup Trick--I turn Lawyerâs Clerk, and the Minutes appear to me very long--A small Automaton--A respectful Protest--I mount a Step in the Office--A Machine of Porterâs Power--The Acrobatic Canaries--Monsieur Rogerâs Remonstrances--My Father decides that I shall follow my bent. In the story I have just narrated, only simple events were noticeable--hardly worthy, perhaps, of a man who has often passed for a sorcerer--but grant me a few pagesâ patience, reader, as an introduction to my artistic life, and what you seek in my book will be displayed before your eager gaze. You will know how a magician is produced, and you will learn that the tree whence my magic staff was cut was only that of persevering labor, often bedewed by the sweat of my brow: soon, too, when you come to witness my labors and my anxious hours of expectation, you will be able to appreciate the cost of a reputation in my mysterious art. On leaving college, I at first enjoyed all the liberty I had been deprived of for so many years. The power of going right or left, of speaking or remaining silent, as I listed, of getting up sooner or later, according to my fancy, was an earthly paradise for a collegian. I enjoyed this ineffable pleasure to the fullest extent: thus, in the morning--although habit made me wake at five--when the clock announced that once so dreaded hour, I burst into a loud laugh, and offered ferocious challenges to any number of invisible superintendents; then, satisfied by this slight retrospective vengeance, I went to sleep again till breakfast. After that meal I went out to indulge in a pleasant lounge about the streets; and I preferred walking in the public promenades, for thus I had better chances of finding something to attract my attention. In a word, not an event happened which I did not know, and I was the real amateur âpenny-a-linerâ of my native town. Many of these incidents afforded very slight interest; one day, however, I witnessed a scene which produced a lasting effect upon me. One after-dinner, while walking along the side of the Loire, engaged with the thoughts suggested by the falling autumn leaves, I was aroused from my reverie by the sound of a trumpet, evidently blown by a practised performer. It may be easily supposed that I was not the last to obey this startling summons, and a few other idlers also formed a circle round the performer. He was a tall fellow with a quick eye, a sunburnt face, long and crispy hair, and he stemmed his fist in his side, while he held his head impudently high. His costume, though rather âloud,â was still cleanly, and announced a man who probably had âsome hay in his boots,â to use a favorite phrase of gentlemen in the same profession. He wore a maroon-colored frock-coat, trimmed with large silver frogs, while round his neck was a black silk cravat, the two ends being passed through a jewelled ring, which a millionaire would not have disdained--had it not unfortunately been paste. He wore no waistcoat, but his shirt was remarkably white, and on it glistened a heavy mosaic chain, with a collection of appendages, whose metallic sound loudly announced his every movement. I had ample time to make these observations, for as the audience collected but slowly, the stranger continued his trumpet overture for a quarter of an hour; at length, when an average crowd had assembled, the trumpet made way for the human voice. The artist laid the instrument on the ground, and walked round majestically to form a ring; then, stopping, he passed his hand through his hair, and began his address. Being little used to this charlatanism in the streets, I regarded the man with confiding admiration and determined not to lose a word of his address. âGentlemen,â he commenced, in a firm and sonorous voice, âpray hear me. I am _not_ what I seem to be; I may say more, I am what I do not seem to be. Yes, gentlemen, yes--confess it--you take me for one of those scurvy beggars who want to draw a few halfpence from your generosity. Well, you may undeceive yourselves. Though you see me on this spot to-day, I tell you that I have only come here for the relief of suffering humanity in general, then for your welfare in particular, as well as for your amusement.â Here the orator, whose accent plainly showed that he came from the banks of the Garonne, passed his hand once more through his hair, raised his head, sucked his lips, and, assuming an air of majestic dignity, continued: âI will tell you presently who I am, and you will be able to estimate me at my true value; in the mean while allow me to offer you a slight specimen of my skill.â The artist, having then formed the circle afresh, placed before him a small table, on which he arranged three tin goblets, so well polished that they might have been taken for silver; after which he fastened round his waist a red cotton velvet bag, into which he thrust his hands for some minutes--doubtlessly to prepare the tricks he intended to display--and the performance commenced. During a long series of tricks, the nutmegs, at first invisible, appeared at the finger ends of the conjuror; then, they passed through the cups, under the table, into a spectatorâs pockets, and finally emerged, to the general delight, from the nose of a young looker-on. The latter took the matter quite seriously, and half killed himself with sneezing, to see whether a few more spice balls might not be left in his brain. The address with which these tricks were done, and the apparent simplicity of the operator in the execution of these ingenious artifices, produced the most perfect illusion--at least, as far as I was concerned. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such a sight: I was stupefied, astounded! The man who could perform such marvels at his will seemed to me a superhuman being; hence I saw him put aside his cups with considerable regret. The audience seemed equally charmed; the artist perceived it, and took advantage of it, by making a sign that he had a few more words to say. Then, resting his hand on the table, he proceeded: âLadies and gentlemen! I was very pleased to notice the kind attention you devoted to my tricks, and I thank you for itâ (here the conjuror bowed to the ground); âand, as I am anxious to prove that you have not to deal with an ungrateful person, I will attempt to repay in full the satisfaction you have made me feel. Deign to listen to me for a moment. âI promised to tell you what I am; I will now satisfy you.â (Sudden change of countenance, and evidence of great self-esteem.) âYou behold in me the celebrated Dr. Carlosbach: the composition of my name reveals to you my Anglo-Francisco-Germanic origin. To praise myself would be like painting the lily; I will, therefore, content myself with saying that I possess an enormous talent, and that my astounding reputation can only be equalled by my modesty. Elected, by acclamation, member of the most illustrious learned societies through the whole world, I incline before their judgment, which proclaims the superiority of my skill in the grand art of curing the human race.â This address, as strange as it was emphatic, was delivered with imperturbable assurance; still I fancied I noticed a twitching of the lips, that revealed the grand doctorâs ill-restrained desire to laugh. For all that, I listened attentively to his discourse. âBut, gentlemen,â he added, âI have said sufficient of myself; it is time to speak of my works. Learn then, that I am the inventor of the Vermifuge Balsam, whose sovereign efficaciousness is indisputable. Yes, gentlemen, the worm, that enemy of the human race--the worm, the destroyer of everything existing--the worm, that obstinate preyer on the living and the dead, is at length conquered by my science; a drop, an atom of this precious liquor is sufficient to expel this fearful parasite for ever. âAnd, gentlemen, such is the virtue of my marvellous balsam, that it not only delivers man from this frightful calamity during life, but his body has nothing to fear after death. Taking my balsam is a mode of embalming oneâs body prior to death; man is thus rendered immortal. Ah! gentlemen, were you but acquainted with all the virtues of my sublime discovery, you would rush upon me and tear it from me; but, as that would be illegal, I check myself in time.â The orator, in fact, stopped, and dried his brow with one hand, while with the other he motioned to the crowd that he had not yet ended his discourse. A great number of the audience were already striving to approach the learned doctor; Carlosbach, however, did not appear to notice it, and, reassuming his dramatic posture, he continued as follows: âBut, you will ask me, what can be the price of such a treasure? can we be rich enough to purchase it? The moment has now arrived, gentlemen, to make you understand the full extent of my disinterestedness. This balsam, in the discovery of which I have worn away my days--this balsam, which sovereigns have purchased at the price of their crown--this balsam, in short, which is beyond all price--well, I make you a present of it!â At these unexpected words, the crowd, panting with emotion, lifted up its eager arms, and implored the generosity of the doctor. But, what shameful deception! Carlosbach--the celebrated Dr. Carlosbach--this benefactor of humanity, suddenly altered his tone, and burst into an Homeric shout of laughter. The arms fell down spontaneously; the audience looked vacantly into each otherâs faces. At length one laughed. The contagion spread, and soon everybody was following the conjurerâs example. He was the first to stop, and demanded silence: âGentlemen!â he then said, in a perfectly respectful tone, âdo not be angry with me for the little trick I have played you; I wished thus to put you on your guard against those charlatans who daily deceive you, just as I have done myself. I am no doctor, but simply a conjurer, professor of mystification, and author of a book, in which you will find, in addition to the discourse I have just delivered, the description of a great number of conjuring tricks. Would you like to learn the art of amusing yourself in society? For sixpence you may satisfy your curiosity.â The conjurer produced from a box an enormous packet of books; then, going round the crowd, he soon disposed of his wares, thanks to the interest his talent had excited. The exhibition was over, and I returned home with my head full of a world of unknown sensations. It will be readily supposed that I purchased one of these precious volumes. I hastened to examine it; but the false doctor continued his system of mystification in it, and despite all my good will, I could not understand one of the tricks he pretended to explain. However, I had the famous speech I have just quoted, as some sort of consolation. I made up my mind to lay the book aside and think no more of it; but the marvels it announced returned to my mind every moment. âO Carlosbach!â I said in my modest ambition, âif I possessed your talent, how happy I should feel!â and, filled with this idea, I decided on taking lessons of the learned professor. Unfortunately, this determination was arrived at too late. When I proceeded to his lodgings, I learned that the conjuror had resorted to his own tricks, and had left his inn the previous evening, forgetting to pay the princely score he had run up. The innkeeper gave me the account of this last mystification on the part of the professor. Carlosbach had arrived at his house with two trunks of unequal size and very heavy; on the larger of them was painted âConjuring Apparatus,â on the other, âClothing.â The conjuror, who stated that he had received various invitations to perform at the adjacent chÃ¢teaux, had set off the evening before to fulfil one of these engagements. He had only taken with him one of his trunks, that containing the apparatus; and it was supposed he had left the other in his room as a security for the bill he had run up. The next day the host, surprised at finding his lodger still absent, thought it advisable to place his traps in some safe place. He, therefore, went into his bedroom; but the two trunks had disappeared, and in their place was an enormous bag filled with sand, on which was written: THE MYSTIFYING BAG. THE STIRRUP TRICK. I continued for some time longer to enjoy the contemplative life I had been pursuing; but at last satiety assailed me, and I was quite surprised one day at finding myself wearied of this life of idleness. My father, like a man who could read the human heart, had awaited this moment to talk seriously with me; he, therefore, took me aside one morning, and said, without further preface, in a kindly voice: âMy good boy, you have now quitted college with a sound education, and I have allowed you to enjoy fully the liberty for which you seemed to aspire. But you must see this is not sufficient for a livelihood; you must now enter on the world resolutely, and apply your parts to the profession you wish to embrace. That profession it is now time to choose; you have doubtlessly some inclination, some bias, and you must let me know it; speak, then, and you will find me inclined to second your views.â Although my father had frequently expressed his fears lest I should follow his trade, I thought, after these remarks, he had changed his mind, and I joyfully said: âOf course I have an inclination, and you cannot be ignorant of it, for it is of very old standing. You know I never wished to be other than--â My father guessed my thoughts, and would not allow me to finish. âI see,â he objected, âthat you did not understand me, and I must explain my meaning more clearly. My desire is for you to choose a profession more lucrative than my own. Consider, it would be unreasonable to bury the ten yearsâ schooling for which I made such heavy sacrifices in my shop; remember, too, that, after thirty-five yearsâ hard work, I have been hardly able to save sufficient provision for my old age. Then, pray, change your resolution, and give up your mania for making a âparcel of filings.ââ My father, in this, merely followed the idea of many parents, who can only see the disagreeable side of their own trade. To this prejudice, I must allow, he added the praiseworthy ambition of the head of a family desirous that his son should rise a step higher on the social ladder than himself. As I was utterly ignorant of all other professions or trades save that of a mechanician, I was unable to appreciate them, or consequently select one; hence I remained dumb. In vain did my father try to draw an answer from me by explaining the advantages I should derive from being a surgeon or chemist, a barrister or a solicitor. I could only repeat that I placed implicit confidence in his wisdom and experience. This self-denial and passive obedience appeared to touch him; I noticed it, and wishing to make a final attack on his determination, I said to him: âBefore making up my mind to any decided choice of profession, allow me to offer one observation. Are you sure that it is your trade which is impossible of extension, or is it owing to the smallness of the town in which you have carried it on? Let me follow my own bent, I beseech you, and when I have become a good workman by your instruction, I will go to Paris and make a fortune there; I feel quite convinced I can do so.â Fearing lest he might give way, my father tried to cut the conversation short by evading a reply to my objection. âAs you leave it to me,â he said, âI advise you to become a solicitor; with your natural parts, aided by application and good conduct, I am certain you will make your way famously.â Two days later I was installed in one of the best offices at Blois, and, owing to my caligraphy, I was employed as a copying clerk, and in engrossing from morning till night, though rarely understanding what I was writing. My readers can readily guess that this mechanical work could not long satisfy the turn of my mind; pens, ink, and paper were most unsuitable articles to carry out the inventive ideas which continually occurred to me. Fortunately, at that period, steel pens were unknown; hence I had a resource in making my pens, to which I devoted the best part of my time. This simple fact will suffice to give an idea of the deep spleen which weighed upon me like a coating of lead, and I should have certainly fallen ill, had I not found more attractive employment. Among the mechanical curiosities entrusted to my father for repair, I had noticed a snuff-box, on the top of which a small piece of mechanism attracted my entire attention. The top of the box represented a landscape. On pressing a spring, a hare made its appearance, and went towards a tuft of grass, which it began to crop; soon after a sportsman emerged from a thicket accompanied by a pointer. The miniature Nimrod stopped at the sight of the game, shouldered his gun and fired; a noise indicative of the explosion of a fire-arm was heard, and the hare, apparently wounded, disappeared in the thicket, pursued by the dog. This pretty piece of mechanism excited my desires in an eminent degree, but I could not hope to possess it, as the owner, in addition to the value he attached to it, had no reason to dispose of it, and, besides, my pecuniary means were insufficient. As I could not make the article my own, I determined, at least, to keep it in remembrance, and drew a careful plan of it without my fatherâs knowledge. This only more inflamed my desires, and I began to ask myself whether I could not make an exact copy of it. Seeing no extreme difficulty in this, I rose at daybreak each morning, and, going down to my fatherâs workshop, I worked till the hour when he used to begin work. Then I rearranged the tools exactly as I had found them, locked up my work carefully, and proceeded to my office. The joy I experienced in finding my mechanism act was only equalled by the pleasure I felt in presenting it to my father, as an indirect and respectful protest against the determination he had formed as to my choice of a trade. I had some difficulty in persuading him that I had not been assisted by any one in my work, but when at last I removed his doubts, he could not refrain from complimenting me. âIt is a pity,â he said, thoughtfully, âthat you cannot profit by your turn for mechanism; but,â he added, suddenly, as if seeking to dispel an idea that troubled him, âyou had better take no pride in your skill, for it may injure your prospects.â For more than a year I performed the duties of amateur--that is, unpaid clerk--and I was then offered a situation by a country solicitor as second clerk, with a small salary. I accepted this unexpected promotion very readily; but, once installed in my new duties, I found that my employer had deceived me as to their range. The situation I occupied was that of office-boy, having to run on errands, for the first and only clerk could more than attend to the business. I certainly earned some money: it was the first I had gained by my own labor, and this consideration gilded the pill, which was rather bitter to my pride. Besides, M. Roger (such was my new masterâs name) was certainly the best fellow in the world. His manner, full of kindness and sympathy, had attracted me the first time I saw
{'title': 'Memoirs of Robert-Houdin, ambassador, author and conjurer by Robert-Houdin', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}