THE charm of true memoirs lies far beyond the printed pages, in the depth and breadth of the writer’s soul. The greatest of all autobiographies are those which detail not only the lives of the men who penned them, but which abound in diverting anecdotes and character studies of the men and women among whom the writer moved. They are not autobiographies alone, but vivid, broad-minded pen-pictures of the period in which the writer was a vigorous, respect-compelling figure. Memoirs written with a view to settling old scores seldom live to accomplish their ends. The narrowness and pettiness of the writer, which intelligent reading of history is bound to disclose, destroy all other charms which the book may possess.

At personal exploitation Robert-Houdin is a brilliant success. As a writer of memoirs he is a wretched failure. Whenever he writes of himself, his pen seems fairly to scintillate. Whenever he refers to other magicians of his times, his pen lags and drops on the pages blots which can emanate only from a narrow, petty, jealous nature.

Even when he writes of his own family, this peculiar trait of petty egotism may be read between the lines. He mentions the name of his son Émile, apparently because the lad shared his stage triumphs. His other children he never mentions by name. The second wife, who, he grudgingly admits, stood valiantly by him in his days of poverty and disappointment, he does not honor by so much as stating her name before marriage. Rather, he refers to her as a person whom he was constrained to place in charge of his household in order that he might continue his experiments and his work on automata. A less gracious tribute to wifely devotion was never penned.

But it is in dealing with contemporary magicians or those whose handiwork in bygone years he cleverly purloined and proclaimed as his original inventions, that the petty jealousy of the man comes to the surface. Whenever he desires to claim for himself credit due a predecessor in the world of magic, he either ignores the man’s very existence or writes of his competitor in such a manner that the latter’s standing as man and magician is lowered. Not that he makes broad, sweeping statements. Rather, he indulges in the innuendo which is far more dangerous to the party attacked. He never strikes a pen-blow which, because of its brutality, might arouse the sympathy of his readers for the object of his attack. Here, in the gentle art of innuendo and belittling, if not in the conjurer’s art, Robert-Houdin is a master.

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Wiljalba Frikell in his youth, showing the peculiar costume worn by conjurers at that time. The author secured this portrait a few weeks before Frikell’s death and sent it to the veteran conjurer, who was amazed to learn that this print was in existence. Now in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Wiljalba Frikell in his youth, showing the peculiar costume worn by conjurers at that time. The author secured this portrait a few weeks before Frikell’s death and sent it to the veteran conjurer, who was amazed to learn that this print was in existence. Now in the Harry Houdini Collection.

In writing his “Memoirs” he deliberately ignores Compars Herrmann, Henri Robin, Wiljalba Frikell, M. Jacobs, and P. T. Barnum, all of whom he knew personally. He might have written most entertainingly of these men, but in each case he had an object in avoiding reference to the acquaintance. P. T. Barnum knew the true history of the writing and drawing figure, as reference to chapter III. of this book will show. Frikell was the pioneer in dispensing with cumbersome stage draperies. Robert-Houdin claimed this innovation as the product of his own ingenuity. Compars Herrmann was playing in London when Robert-Houdin made his English dÉbut under Mitchell’s direction, and was presenting, trick for trick, the rÉpertoire claimed by Robert-Houdin as original with him. Henri Robin disputed Robert-Houdin’s claim to having invented the inexhaustible bottle, and proved his case, as will be seen by reference to chapter VIII. Jacobs was one of Anderson’s cleverest imitators and a rival of Robert-Houdin in the English provinces.

The adroit manner in which Robert-Houdin flays Pinetti, Anderson, and Bosco would arouse admiration were his pen-lashings devoted to men who deserved such treatment. Under existing circumstances—his debt to Bosco and Pinetti, whose tricks he filched remorselessly, and the fact that Anderson’s popularity outlived his own in England—his efforts to belittle these men are unworthy of one who called himself a man and a master magician. The truly great and successful man rises above petty jealousy and personalities. This, Robert-Houdin could not do, even when he sat pen in hand, in retirement, with the fear of competition removed.

It seems almost incredible that Robert-Houdin should ignore Henri Robin in his “Memoirs,” for Robin was one of the most interesting characters of that day. He still stands in magic’s history as the Chesterfield of conjuring, a man of many gifts, charming address, and broad education. Even in his dispute with Robert-Houdin regarding the invention of the inexhaustible bottle, he never forgot his dignity, but proved his case by that most potent of arguments, a well-edited magazine published under his direction, in which an illustration showed him actually performing the trick in 1844, or a full three years before it appeared on Robert-Houdin’s programme.

Robert-Houdin was indebted to Robin for another trick, the Garde FranÇaise, introduced by Robert-Houdin in October, 1847. Henri Robin had precisely the same figure, doing precisely the same feats, in the garb of an Arab. An illustration from Robin’s magazine, L’Almanach Cagliostro, shows Robin offering this figure in March, 1846, or a year and seven months before it was presented by Robert-Houdin. Yet the only reference made by Robert-Houdin to this popular and gifted contemporary is in “The Secrets of Stage Conjuring” where he remarks slightingly that Robin spoiled Mr. Pepper’s business by giving a poor imitation of the latter’s ghost show.

Again, in ignoring Herrmann, he proves his narrowness of mind, his utter unwillingness to admit any ability in his rivals. Compars Herrmann was no ordinary trickster or mountebank, but a conjurer who remained in London almost a year, playing the very best houses, and later scoring equal popularity in the provinces. He was decorated by various monarchs and was famous for his large gifts to charities. Even the present generation, including theatre-goers and students of magic, remembers the name of Herrmann, when Robert-Houdin is forgotten or would be but for his cleverly written autobiography.

Wiljalba Frikell, to whom should go the credit of cutting out heavy stage draperies, never claimed the innovation as a carefully planned conceit, but as an accident. His paraphernalia were destroyed in a fire, but he desired to live up to his contract and give a performance as announced. He therefore offered sleight-of-hand, pure and simple, with the aid of a few tables, chairs, and other common properties which were absolutely undraped. He was also compelled to don regulation, severely plain, evening clothes. The absence of draperies, which naturally aid a conjurer in attaining results, created so pleasing a sensation that Frikell never again draped his stage nor wore fancy raiment. Had Robert-Houdin told the truth about his so-called innovation, he must have given Frikell credit, wherefore he conveniently ignores Frikell completely.

It is entirely characteristic of Robert-Houdin that he did not openly assail Pinetti in the pages of his “Memoirs.” With cleverness worthy of a better cause, he quotes the bitter verbal attack as issuing from the lips of the friend and mentor of his youth, Signor Torrini.

The major portion of chapter VI., pages 92 to 104 inclusive, American edition of his autobiography, is devoted to assailing Pinetti’s abilities as a conjurer and his reputation as a man. Granted that Pinetti did put Torrini to shame on the Neapolitan stage, such revenge for a wholesale duplication of the magician’s tricks might be termed almost human and natural. Had a minor magician, amateur or professional, dogged the footsteps of Robert-Houdin, copying his tricks, the entire rÉpertoire upon which he depended for a livelihood, thus endangering his future, I doubt that even the author of “Confidences d’un Prestidigitateur” would have hesitated to unmask and undo his rival.

In fact, by reference to the editorial note, foot of page 421, American edition of Robert-Houdin’s “Memoirs,” it will be seen that in 1850 Robert-Houdin appealed to the law for protection in just such a case. An employee was sent to prison for two years, as judgment for selling to an amateur some of his master’s secrets.

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Bartolomeo Bosco in his prime. From an engraving in the Harry Houdini Collection.
Bartolomeo Bosco in his prime. From an engraving in the Harry Houdini Collection.

But in attacking Pinetti, Robert-Houdin goes a step too far and falsifies, not directly but by innuendo, when he permits the impression to go forth that Pinetti was hounded and ruined both financially and professionally by Torrini, as is set forth on page 104. He pictures Torrini as dogging the footsteps of Pinetti through all Italy and finally driving him in a state of abject misery to Russia, where he died in the home of a nobleman, who sheltered him through sheer compassion. Robert-Houdin must have known this was absolutely untrue, for he quotes Robertson, who published Pinetti’s true experiences in Russia. Pinetti took a fortune with him to Russia, acquired more wealth there, and then lost his entire financial holdings through his passion for balloon experiments, as is set forth in chapter II. of this book.

Then, to show his own inconsistency, after picturing Pinetti in his “Memoirs” as a charlatan, a conjurer of vulgar, uncouth pretensions rather than as a good showman of real ability, Robert-Houdin is forced to admit on page 25 of “Secrets of Magic” that later conjurers employed Pinetti programmes as a foundation upon which their performances were built! Even here, however, Robert-Houdin fails to acknowledge an iota of the heavy debt which he personally owed the despised Chevalier Pinetti.

Robert-Houdin devotes the greater part of chapter X., American edition of his autobiography, to belittling Bosco, a conjurer whose popularity all over Europe was long-lived. First, he pictures Bosco as a most cruel creature who literally tortured to death the birds used in his performances. Here, as in his attack on Pinetti, Robert-Houdin throws the responsibility for criticism on the shoulders of another. His old friend Antonio accompanies him to watch Bosco’s performance, and it is Antonio throughout the narrative who inveighs against Bosco’s cruelty and Antonio who insists upon leaving before the performance closes, because the cruelty of the conjurer nauseates him.

At that time no society for the protection of animals existed, and, even if it had, I doubt whether Bosco’s performance would have come under the ban. Certain magicians of to-day employ many of Bosco’s tricks in which birds and even small animals are used, but the conjuring is so deftly done that the public of 1907, like that of 1838, thinks it is all sleight-of-hand work and that the birds are neither hurt nor killed. Even in Bosco’s time the bird trick was not in his rÉpertoire exclusively. All English magicians employed it. Apparently the head of the fowl was amputated, but often in reality it was tucked under the wing, and the head and neck of another fowl was shown by sleight-of-hand. Quite probably the Parisian public did not consider Bosco cruel. Robert-Houdin and his friend Antonio, being versed in sleight-of-hand and conjuring methods, read cruelty between the deft movements. Certain it is that the name of Bosco has not been handed down to posterity by other writers as a synonym of cruelty.

The animus of Robert-Houdin’s attack on Bosco is evident at every point of the narrative. Now he accuses him of bad taste in appearing in the box-office. Again he suggests that the somewhat impressive opening of Bosco’s act savors of both charlatanism and burlesque, when in reality the secret of showmanship consists not of what you really do, but what the mystery-loving public thinks you do. Bosco undoubtedly secured precisely the effect he desired, because Robert-Houdin devotes more than a page to a most unnecessary attempt to explain away what he considered Bosco’s undeserved popularity.

Bosco was not only a clever magician, but a man of many adventures, so that his life reads like a romance. This soldier of fortune, Bartolomeo Bosco, was born of a noble Piedmont family, on January 11th, 1793, in Turin, Italy. From boyhood he showed great ability as a necromancer, but at the age of nineteen he was forced to serve under Napoleon I. in the Russian campaign. He was a fusilier in the Eleventh Infantry, and at the battle of Borodino was injured in an engagement with Cossacks. Pierced by a lance, he lay upon the ground apparently dead. A Cossack callously roamed among the dead and dying, rifling pockets and belts. When he came to the form of Bosco, that youth feigned death, knowing that resistance to the ghoul meant a death wound. But while the Cossack robbed the Italian soldier, the latter stealthily raised his unwounded arm and by sleight-of-hand rifled the well-filled pockets of the ghoul, which fact was not discovered by the Cossack until he was far from the field of the dead and dying, where he had left one of the enemy considerably better off, thanks to Bosco’s conjuring gifts.

Later Bosco was sent captive to Siberia, where he perfected his sleight-of-hand while amusing fellow-prisoners and jailers. In 1814 he was released and returned to his native land, where he studied medicine, but eventually decided to become a public entertainer. He was not only a clever entertainer, but a good business man, and he planned each year on saving enough money to insure a life of ease in his old age. But events intervened to ruin all his well-laid plans. The sins of his youth brought their penalty. An illegitimate son, Eugene, became a heavy drag upon the retired magician, who was compelled to pay large sums to the young man in order to prevent his playing in either France or Germany or assuming the name of Bosco. In a German antiquary’s shop at Bonn on the Rhine I found an agreement in which Bosco agreed to pay this youth five thousand francs for not using the name of Bosco. This agreement is too long for reproduction in this volume, but unquestionably it is genuine and tells all too eloquently the troubles which beset Bosco in his old age.

Eugene was said to be the superior of his famous father in sleight-of-hand, but he was wild and given to excesses. Women and wine checked what might have been a brilliant professional career. Disabled, poverty-stricken, and respected by none, he soon disappeared from the conjuring world, and according to Carl Willman in the “Zauberwelt” he died miserably in Hungary in 1891.

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Only photograph of Madame Bosco, given to the author by Mrs. Mueller, Madame Bosco’s niece, at the funeral of Wiljalba Frikell.
Only photograph of Madame Bosco, given to the author by Mrs. Mueller, Madame Bosco’s niece, at the funeral of Wiljalba Frikell.

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The author at the grave of Bosco. From a photograph in the Harry Houdini Collection.
The author at the grave of Bosco. From a photograph in the Harry Houdini Collection.

In the mean time, Bosco and his wife lived in poverty in Dresden, where the once brilliant conjurer died March 2nd, 1863. His wife died three years later and was interred in the grave with her husband in a cemetery on Friedrichstrasse. There was nothing on the tombstone to indicate the double interment, and I discovered the fact only by investigating the municipal and cemetery records. Here I also learned that the grave had merely been leased, and as the lease was about to expire the bones of the great conjurer and his faithful wife might soon be disinterred and reburied in a neglected corner of the graveyard devoted to the poor and unclaimed dead. To prevent this, I purchased the lot and tombstone, and presented the same to the Society of American Magicians, of which organization, at the present writing, I am a member.

A man of noble birth and brilliant attainments was the original Bosco, and his name became a by-word all over the Continent as the synonym, not of cruelty, but of clever deception, yet never has posterity put the name of a great performer to such ignoble uses. For who has not heard the cry of the modern Bosco, “Eat-’em-alive"?

To-day I can close my eyes and summon two visions. First I see myself standing bareheaded before a neglected grave in the quiet cemetery on Friedrichstrasse, Dresden, the sunlight pouring down upon the tombstone which bears not only the cup-and-balls and wand, insignia of Bosco’s most famous trick, but this inscription: “Ici repose le cÉlÈbre Bartolomeo Bosco.—NÉ À Turin le 11 Janvier, 1793; dÉcÉdÉ À Dresden le 2 Mars, 1863.” The history of this clever conjurer, with all its lights and shadows, sweeps before me like a mental panorama.

The second vision carries me into the country, to the fairs of England and the side-shows of America:

“Bosco! Bosco! Eat-’em-alive Bosco. You can’t afford to miss this marvel. Bosco! Bosco!”

Follow me into the enclosure and gaze down into a den. There lies a half-naked human being. His hair is long and matted, a loin cloth does wretched duty as clothing. Torn sandals are on his feet. The eulogistic lecturer dilates upon the powers of this twentieth-century Bosco, but you do not listen. Your fascinated gaze is fixed on various hideous, wriggling, writhing forms on the floor of the den. Snakes—scores of them! Now the creature, half-animal, half-human, glances up to make sure that attention is riveted upon him, then grasps one of the serpents in his hideous hands and in a flash bites off its head. The writhing body falls back to the ground.

You grip the railing in a sudden faintness. Has your brain deceived your eyes, or your eyes your brain? If you are a conjurer you try to convince yourself that it is all a clever sleight-of-hand exhibition, but in your heart you know it is not true. This creature, so near a beast, has debauched his manhood for a few paltry dollars, and in dragging himself down has dragged down the name of a worthy, a brilliant, a world-famous performer.

Of the twentieth-century Boscos there are, alas, many. You will find them all over the world, in street carnivals, side-shows, fair-booths, and museums, and why the public supports such debasing exhibitions I have never yet been able to understand. I have seen half-starved Russians pick food from refuse-barrels. I have seen besotted Americans creep out from low dives to draw the dregs of beer-barrels into tomato cans. I have seen absinthe fiends in Paris trade body and soul to obtain their beloved stimulant. I have heard morphine fiends in Russia promise to exhibit the effect of the needle in return for the price of an injection. But never has my soul so risen in revolt as at sight of this bestial exhibition with which the name of Bosco, a nobleman and a conjurer of merit, has been linked.

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Anderson’s opening programme at the Strand Theatre, Christmas week, 1848, showing that he duplicated the tricks offered by Robert-Houdin, who, in his “Memoirs,” claims that Anderson’s programme was stale and uninteresting by comparison with his own.
Anderson’s opening programme at the Strand Theatre, Christmas week, 1848, showing that he duplicated the tricks offered by Robert-Houdin, who, in his “Memoirs,” claims that Anderson’s programme was stale and uninteresting by comparison with his own.

Even more despicable than his attack upon Bosco is Robert-Houdin’s flaying of John Henry Anderson. In this he is both unmanly and untruthful. Hinging his attack on his surprise at the press methods and advertising adopted in England as opposed to the less spectacular means employed in France, he insinuates that Anderson’s entire success was built not upon merit, ability, originality, or diversified programmes, but solely upon sensational advertising. On page 325 of the American edition of his “Memoirs” Robert-Houdin writes thus of his competitor:

“On my arrival in England a conjurer of the name of Anderson, who assumed the title of Great Wizard of the North, had been performing for a long period at the little Strand Theatre.

“This artist, fearing, doubtlessly, that public attention might be divided, tried to crush the publicity of my performances; hence he sent out on London streets a cavalcade thus organized:

“Four enormous carriages, covered with posters and pictures representing all sorts of witchcraft, opened the procession. Then followed four-and-twenty merry men, each bearing a banner on which was painted a letter a yard in height.

“At each cross-road the four carriages stopped side by side and presented a bill some twenty-five yards in length, while all the men (I should say letters), on receiving the word of command, drew themselves up in a line, like the vehicles.

“Seen in front the letters formed this phrase:

THE CELEBRATED ANDERSON!!!

While on the other side of the banners could be read:

THE GREAT WIZARD OF THE NORTH.

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Handbill used by Anderson in Germany. January, 1848, when Robert-Houdin claimed that he was playing in the English provinces. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Handbill used by Anderson in Germany. January, 1848, when Robert-Houdin claimed that he was playing in the English provinces. From the Harry Houdini Collection.

“Unfortunately for the Wizard, his performances were attacked by a mortal disease; too long a stay in London had ended by producing satiety. Besides, his repertory was out-of-date, and could not contend against the new tricks which I was offering. What could he present to the public in opposition to the second sight, the suspension, and the inexhaustible bottle? Hence he was obliged to close his theatre and start for the provinces, where he managed, as usual, to make excellent receipts, owing to his powerful means of notoriety.”

In the first place, Robert Houdin insinuates that when they played in opposition John Henry Anderson’s rÉpertoire was stale and uninteresting. Is it possible that Robert-Houdin could not read Anderson’s bills, or were his statements deliberate falsehoods, emanating from a malicious, wilful desire to injure Anderson?

What did Anderson have to offer in opposition to Robert-Houdin’s much-vaunted Suspension, Second Sight, and Inexhaustible Bottle? Consult the Anderson programme, reproduced, and you will find that the great Wizard of the North duplicated the French conjurer’s rÉpertoire. “The Ethereal Suspension” of Robert-Houdin’s programme was “Suspension Chloroforeene” on Anderson’s. Second Sight appeared on both bills. “The Inexhaustible Bottle” had wisely been dropped by Anderson because he had been using it in one form or another for ten years preceding the date of Robert-Houdin’s appearance in London, as is proven in chapter IX. of this book.

Therefore, if Anderson’s programme was passÉ and uninteresting, so also must have been the one offered by Robert-Houdin!

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Poster used by Anderson during his closing week at the Strand Theatre, London, January 11th, 1848. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Poster used by Anderson during his closing week at the Strand Theatre, London, January 11th, 1848. From the Harry Houdini Collection.

Second, John Henry Anderson was not in London when Robert-Houdin arrived there in May, 1848. He was on the Continent, and a bill reproduced will show that he was in Germany in January, 1848, and did not open at the Strand Theatre until December 26th, 1848. Then it was Robert-Houdin who had just returned from the provinces, not Anderson. Anderson had been playing the capitals of Europe. Robert-Houdin had been in Manchester, England.

Robert-Houdin again skilfully twists the truth to suit his own ends. He actually states that Anderson, returning from a tour of the provinces, used a new poster, a caricature of the famous painting, “Napoleon’s Return from Elba":

“In the foreground Anderson was seen affecting the attitude of the great man; above his head fluttered an enormous banner bearing the words ‘The Wonder of the World’; while, behind him and somewhat lost in the shade, the Emperor of Russia and several other monarchs stood in a respectful posture. As in the original picture, the fanatic admirers of the Wizard embraced his knees, while an immense crowd received him triumphantly. In the distance could be seen the equestrian statue of the Iron Duke, who, hat in hand, bowed before him, the Great Wizard; and lastly, the very dome of St. Paul’s bent towards him most humbly.

“At the bottom was the inscription,

Return of the Napoleon of Necromancy.

“Regarded seriously, this picture would be found a puff in very bad taste; but as a caricature it is excessively comic. Besides, it had the double result of making the London public laugh and bringing a great number of shillings into the skilful puffer’s pockets.”

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Eugene Bosco, son of the original Bosco. From the Harry Houdini Collection.
Eugene Bosco, son of the original Bosco. From the Harry Houdini Collection.

Reference to my collection of Anderson programmes and press clippings proves that while on the Continent his performances had created such a sensation that, according to the ethics and etiquette of his profession, Anderson was quite justified in assuming the title of “The Napoleon of Necromancy” and in depicting even kings and noblemen admiring his abilities as a conjurer. But, alas, Robert-Houdin had played only before English and French monarchs, not before the other crowned heads of Europe, including the Czar of Russia and the German Kaiser!

It required weeks and months of browsing in old book- and print-shops, national libraries, and rare collections on my part to prove that Anderson had really played these engagements, when his bitter rival, Robert-Houdin, his heart eaten with jealousy until his sense of honor and truth was hopelessly blunted, was claiming that Anderson had just returned from a trip in the English provinces.

It will be noted by reference to the Anderson programme that he had been engaged only for the Christmas holidays, but despite Robert-Houdin’s claim that he was a failure and was obliged to close and seek new fields of conquest in the provinces, Anderson’s engagement was extended. He remained at the Strand until January 11th, 1848, then after a brief provincial tour he actually returned to London and played to big receipts. Again and again he appeared in London. Far from being the unpopular, forgotten ex-magician pictured by Robert-Houdin, he performed with great success at the St. James Theatre, London, in 1851. Robert-Houdin appeared in London for the last time in 1853, but in 1865 “the despised and forgotten Anderson” was there again, creating a furor in his exposure of the Davenport Brothers.

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John Henry Anderson as he appeared in his later years. From a cut in the Harry Houdini Collection.
John Henry Anderson as he appeared in his later years. From a cut in the Harry Houdini Collection.

Robert-Houdin might have been justified in criticising Anderson’s sensational advertising methods, for these were entirely opposed to the more elegant and conservative methods employed by the French conjurer. But certainly he was not justified in picturing his rival as one who had passed his prime, whose popularity had waned, whose rÉpertoire no longer attracted the public. For, in addition to duplicating Robert-Houdin’s entire rÉpertoire, Anderson offered tricks of which Robert-Houdin knew nothing, and for years to come he constantly reconstructed his programmes, keeping them strictly up-to-date.

Anderson did die a poor man, but this was not because the amusement-loving public had wearied of him. A popular performer, like so many of his class he did not know how to invest his huge earnings. It is known that he gave $20,000 to various charities, while no record of Robert-Houdin’s charities exists. He was burned out several times. He lost money through a bad contract made for his Australian tour. Certain investments dropped in value because of the Civil War in the United States, during which England sympathized with the South. Finally, during his American tour after the Civil War, Anderson played the Southern States, then steeped in bitterness toward the North, and was unfortunate enough to bill himself as “The Great Wizard of the North.” This roused the Southern prejudice to white heat, he was almost mobbed, and was finally driven from that section of the country. He went into bankruptcy, November 19th, 1866, and died at Darlington, County Durham, England, Feb. 3rd, 1874. His remains were interred, in accordance with his dying request, at Aberdeen, Scotland.

So ends the true history of Robert-Houdin. The master-magician, unmasked, stands forth in all the hideous nakedness of historical proof, the prince of pilferers. That he might bask for a few hours in public adulation, he purloined the ideas of magicians long dead and buried, and proclaimed these as the fruits of his own inventive genius. That he might be known to posterity as the king of conjurers, he sold his birthright of manhood and honor for a mere mess of pottage, his “Memoirs,” written by the hand of another man, who at his instigation belittled his contemporaries, and juggled facts and truth to further his egotistical, jealous ambitions.

But the day of reckoning is come. Upon the history of magic as promulgated by Robert-Houdin the searchlight of modern investigation has been turned. Credit has been given where it belongs, to those magicians who preceded Robert-Houdin and upon whose abilities and achievements Robert-Houdin built his unearned, unmerited fame. The dust of years has been swept from names long forgotten, which should forever shine in the annals of magic.

Thus end, also, my researches, covering almost two decades of time, researches in which my veneration for old-time magicians grew with each newly discovered bit of history; researches during which my respect for the profession of magic has grown by leaps and bounds. And the fruits of these researches I now lay before the only true jury, the great reading public. My task is finished.