It’s 1885 in a crowded, dimly-lit theater. Three large men from the audience hold a chair to the
ground, as they’ve been instructed to do. A teenage girl who goes by the name Georgia
Wonder approaches. She supposedly gained superpowers “in an electrical storm.”
As a contemporary account describes it, Georgia deftly touches the chair and it
“began to jump about in the most extraordinary manner, in spite of all the efforts of three
or four strong men to keep it still or to hold it down.” The crowd goes wild.
Hi I’m Erin McCarthy, editor-in-chief of MentalFloss.com, and this is The List Show.
Georgia Wonder, a.k.a. Lulu Hurst, is just one of many stage illusionists from history
who entertained the masses by seemingly defying the laws of nature. In Hurst’s case,
it was actually a combination of showmanship, storytelling, and, as Popular Mechanics
described it, an advanced understanding of the “pivot-and-fulcrum theorem of physics.” This
photo breaks down the pivot points that Lulu uses to manipulate the men’s own weight against them.
But if using real-life science to convince thousands of people that you have superpowers
*isn’t* a form of magic, I don’t know what is. Today, we’re covering fun and
fantastical facts from the history of stage magic. Let’s get started. ... Did it work?
One of the oldest confirmed accounts of stage magic dates back to at least the first century CE,
and it’s most likely a trick you’ve seen before. The cup and balls illusion,
where objects are placed under cups and appear to switch locations, vanish, and/or reappear at will,
was performed by ancient Roman conjurers. It can be a fun illusion, but it has a more
nefarious history as a gambling game and con. Since practitioners of the trick can swiftly
(and often seamlessly) move the balls around, it became an easy way to swindle money out of
people who thought they could figure out where a ball was going to end up.
This painting from around 1502, by Hieronymus Bosch, depicts the trick being performed to an
intrigued audience—but if you look closely, you can see that a plant is stealing a coin purse from
a distracted onlooker. This dastardly reputation stuck with illusionists for centuries.
The oldest known magic book in English dates all the way back to 1584. The Discoverie of
Witchcraft was written by Reginald Scot as a kind of skeptical exposé on the occult arts. It takes a
firm stance that prosecuting people for witchcraft is irrational and specifically un-Christian.
This ticked off a lot of people, including noted witchcraft believer-and-hater James VI
of Scotland. It’s said that he ordered a majority of the first editions of the book
burnt when he became James I of England. While that’s almost certainly a myth, it does point
to a real disdain James had towards the book and its witchcraft-denying ways. King James
actually wrote his own book on witchcraft where he condemned the “damnable opinions” of Scot.
The Discoverie of Witchcraft contains a section on illusion and stage magic. It’s meant to dispel
the idea that any REAL magic is going on, and to help prevent people from getting swindled.
It included diagrams that broke down common stage tricks, like the Decollation of John
the Baptist illusion. According to the title page of the 1651 edition of Discoverie of Witchcraft,
the book aims to fully decipher “the knavery and confederacy of conjurors,”
“the impious blasphemy of Inchanters,” and of course,
“the horrible art of Poisoning and all the tricks and conveyances of juggling and Legerdemain.”
Juggling, by the way, was basically the contemporary term for what we call magic today;
the person who practiced it was a juggler. But what the heck is legerdemain? Back in the 15th
century, this phrase was used to describe fast-fingered illusionists. It comes from
Middle French and literally means “light of hand.” When it was adopted by the English, they smushed
together “leger de main” into one word and made it a noun. It was an alternative to a phrase
that most of us are still familiar with today, sleight of hand. Sleight of hand, by the way,
makes use of the word sleight, which is actually derived from an Old Norse word that means sly.
Sly of hand makes… a lot more sense. Isaac Fawkes, The Sleight of Hand Man,
was a popular showman in the early 1700s. He was often satirized for practicing what
was considered a low-brow art. Painter and critic William Hogarth often mocked his show
and scorned local audiences’ taste for a stage “debauch’d by fool’ries.” Fawkes, undeterred,
publicly trumpeted his financial success, bragging about putting "seven hundred Pounds
into the Bank," a convincing argument for artistic merit if I've ever heard one.
Another memorable figure of the 17th and 18th century magic scene was Matthias Buchinger, known
as the Little Man of Nuremberg. Buchinger was born without hands or feet and stood only 29 inches
tall. He performed many feats and illusions, including the famous cups and balls routine.
Adelaide Herrmann, known as the Queen of Magic, was one of the rising female stars of the late
19th century. Originally the assistant (and wife) of famed magician Alexander Herrmann, she
continued performing as a star in her own right after his death. She was one of few magicians to
ever perform the infamous bullet catch trick, which involved, well, I think you can guess.
If you’re looking for old-timey stage magic advice, don’t worry, there’s plenty of material.
Take, for instance, 1634’s Hocus Pocus Junior: The Anatomie of Legerdemain, or the art of jugling set
forth in his proper colours, fully, plainely, and exactly, so that an ignorant person may thereby
learne the full perfection of the same, after a little practise. Could’ve used a spell to make
some of that title disappear…Anyway, some the book’s suggestions include:
First, he must be one of a bold and audacious spirit …
Secondly, he must have a nimble and cleanly conveyance.
Thirdly, he must have strange terms and emphatical words …
Fourthly … such gesture of body as may lead away the spectators eyes from a strict
and diligent beholding his manner of conveyance. If you asked Harry Kellar, a famous 19th-century
illusionist, his advice includes a “perfectly ordered and practically automatic memory,
and a knowledge of a number of languages, the more the better.”
Jean-Eugene Robert-Houdin offered some focused counsel: “To succeed as a conjurer,
three things are essential–first, dexterity; second, dexterity; and third, dexterity.”
If the name Jean-Eugene Robert-Houdin is ringing any magical bells, that’s because
the influential French illusionist was the inspiration for the stage name of one Erik Vise,
otherwise known as Harry Houdini. But we’ll get to him in a minute. Let’s talk about Robert-Houdin,
who is often credited as the father of modern theatrical illusion.
Jean-Eugene Robert was born in Blois, France, in 1805. He began pursuing a career as a watchmaker,
which was the family business, until he caught the magic bug. He married Josèphe Cecile Houdin,
hyphenated his name, and eventually opened his own space in the Palais Royale.
The venue was much classier than most people were used to for stage magic, which was more often
associated with carnivals than legitimate theaters. Robert-Houdin is also noted for
performing in a normal evening suit, rather than the exuberant robes or elaborate costumes that
many magicians of the time would wear on stage. Robert-Houdin’s magic act made an immediate
impression on audiences. It incorporated meticulously rehearsed illusions, mentalism,
and notably, the use of electricity and robotic automatons that Robert-Houdin had built.
I guess those clock making skills came in handy after all. One of his automatons even
caught the eye of circus legend PT Barnum, who purchased it in 1844.
Robert-Houdin’s magic was so well respected that he was even asked by the government of
France to go on a magical mission to Algeria. Yeah, those words just came out of my mouth.
In the colonized area, local religious leaders called Marabous were using magic of their own
to impress and influence tribes. Robert-Houdin’s job was to go show that French magic was superior,
and apparently, he succeeded. Then one day a young man by the name of
Erik decided to pay homage to the great magician by naming himself Houdini. Houdini wrote that
the extra ‘i’ was used because he thought that it would give his stage name the meaning ‘like
Houdin’ in French. Some historians think it was a tribute to other magicians whose names ended in I.
And it does have a certain undeniable flair. Whatever the exact origin,
over the rest of his life, Harry Houdini would solidify his standing as one of the
most influential illusionists in history. Today I just want to focus on one part of
the Houdini story: his inexplicable turn against his former hero.
In 1908, Harry Houdini published “The Unmasking of Robert-Houdin,”
a scathing book that dissected many of Robert-Houdin’s tricks, and attacked him for
his “supreme egotism.” Some of the chapters in the book include “The Narrowness of Robert-Houdin’s
Memoirs,” and “Robert-Houdin’s Ignorance of Magic as Betrayed by His Own Pen.” In one section he
calls Robert-Houdin “a mere pretender, a man who waxed great on the brainwork of others.” Ouch.
Houdini’s sudden disloyalty to his own namesake might seem shocking, but some believe it’s
actually a reflection of his own insecurities as a performer. One writer for PBS put it like this:
“It can also be seen as … the need to elevate himself at the expense of any competitors,
even those from the past. But given that the two men shared so much more than a name,
perhaps it was Houdini’s way of responding -- in a way his ego and psyche would allow -- to
the very criticisms so often leveled at him.” The late 19th and early 20th century was marked
by stage magicians who transformed the artform. Harry Kellar, Howard Thurston,
and Harry Blackstone put on big theatrical magic shows, all of which had incredible posters.
The Magic Circle was formed in 1905, and the International Brotherhood of Magicians
was formed in 1922, both organizations for performers across the globe. (Or,
male performers rather. Women weren’t allowed in the Magic Circle until 1991.) Doug Henning
appeared on Broadway in the ‘70s, reintroducing stage illusion to mainstream audiences.
Stage magic hit television, conquered Las Vegas, and made its way to Hogwarts (OK, that last one
is not true, but I couldn’t do a whole episode on magic and not mention Harry Potter once).
Thanks for watching Mental Floss on YouTube. Drop your stage magician name in the comments.
I’m the Great Erinini. Thanks for watching.