Unknown Facts About Phillipe
The One time Celebrated Conjuror, and Father of the "GIFT" Show
by Houdini
Copyright, 1921, by Harry Houdini.
Robert-Houdin makes mention, in his Memoirs, of Philippe as a pastry cook expert and goes on to tell as much about him as he finds convenient for the world to know.
Despite the fact that Philippe played at the Bonna-Nouvelle Theatre in Paris long before Robert-Houdin entered the field of conjury, the latter had imitations of Philippe's wonderful performance, which he claimed as his own inventions. For some reason best known to himself, Robert-Houdin was mercilessly untruthful and ignored entirely many of his contemporaries. Such as he saw fit to mention, he lampooned in most satirical fashion. Robin, on the authority of my friend Bolin of Russia, who was friendly with magicians of those times, was one of the most polished gentlemen that ever graced the stage, but Houdin did not mention his name in his Memoirs. He attempted to crucify Bosco as a torturer of animals and tried to brand dear old John Henry Anderson as a bombastic performer. In fact, I could go right through the list of the contemporaries of Robert-Houdin and show how he not only traduced them but filched for himself their chef d'oeuvres and dared to write "the inventor" when using them on his program.
Very little was known of Philippe, though I tried to trace him for a long time. By the merest accident, I made the acquaintance of his son, E. Patrick Talon. One day I walked into the establishment of Caroly, in Paris, who informed me that a son of the celebrated Philippe was alive and wished to dispose of some of his father's letters. An appointment was immediately arranged for at the Alhambra Theatre where I was then performing, which proved to be the inception of a friendship that lasted till the death of Philippe's son. Strange as it may seem, E. Patrick Talon, though he knew not one word of English, was born in Ireland and named Patrick in memory of Philippe's successful stay in Dublin. So great was the joy of Philippe when tiny baby Patrick enriched the musical history of old Erin by giving forth his initial wail, that he produced the inexhaustible wine barrel trick at the performance that evening and bade the audience drink, in good cheer, to the health of his son.
Der Taschenspieler Philippe aus Paris
Engraving
In my possession are some of Philippe's original letters to his family and also an article written by E. Patrick Talon, which is, however, too long to reproduce in toto. I will use, therefore only what I think will add interesting material to the history of magic. Some of the paragraphs I have simply translated and used as is, which will explain the intimacy of information.
Jacques-Noël Talon later known as Philippe, was born at Blais, France, on December 25, 1802. Though not of noble lineage his predecessors have taken their places as beacon lights in the annals of the monarchic adherents during the French Revolution.
His father, Andre Talon, born at Alais, in the county of Du Gard in 1751, was a man of commanding stature and is said to have possessed extraordinary physical strength. Because he had been conspicuously successful in his various business ventures, thereby accumulating a considerable number of valuable estates, he came to be quite generally known as "Talon, the Rich." In politics, Talon was known to be a rabid monarchist and at the outbreak of the Revolution in '93 he was subjected to many hardships. Much of his property was confiscated by the revolutionists, and he would undoubtedly have lost his life as well, had it not been for his own cleverness and the timely aid of his friends. He managed to evade arrest for a considerable time, but finally, through the treachery of false friends, was betrayed into the hands of the famous committee of Public Safety.
While but little is known of Talon's daily life, the story of his arrest and his subsequent escape has come down to us in its minutest details, and, as it was an extremely dramatic episode, I record it here in its entirety.
On being taken to the Town Hall, he found himself in the presence of three men all of whom were entirely unknown to him, although they assumed to know him quite intimately. On the table at which they were seated stood a bottle of wine and several glasses.
"Citizen," said the man who seemed to be in authority, "we are instructed to ask you several questions in regard to your political activities, which we expect you to answer truthfully, but first will you honor us by drinking with us, as it may serve to refresh your memory?''
The glasses were filled and one placed in Talon's hand. Free from any thought of treachery, he toasted their health and was about to put the glass to his lips when all three sprang upon him, saying, "We arrest you in defense of the public safety," and in spite of his enormous strength they succeeded in overpowering him. Even then, after recovering somewhat from his surprise, he might have been successful in making good his escape had not the noise of the struggle brought a considerable body of gendarmes to the assistance of his opponents, thus rendering further resistance futile.
"What shall we do with this scamp of an aristocrat?'' asked one of the attacking party, carefully nursing a sadly bruised cheek.
"Take him before the mayor and have him thoroughly cross-examined, before sending him to Paris," replied he who had before acted as spokesman.
"You have no right to arrest a citizen in this violent manner and without a warrant, villians that you are!" said Talon, calmly turning to the gendarmes.
"That is where you are mistaken, you dirty scamp," said the angry officer, before the corporal of the gendarmes could reply, knowing that his brawny prisoner was entirely in his power. Then, turning to the commander of the gendarmes, he added, "Corporal, I give you special orders to watch well your prisoner, and in two hours from now take him to the mayor's office, where you will find members of the Committee assembled." And with a sign to his two assistants to follow him, he left the room.
Alone with the gendarmes, Talon sat in deep meditation. He thought of the sufferings of his dear wife and children, who must already have heard of his arrest. Of course, they fully realized that the revolutionary court was entirely without mercy and condemned on the slightest evidence; even the simple accusation that the victim harbored ideas prejudicial to the Jacobin cause was sufficient to send him direct to the guillotine.
He sat as one petrified, fully aware of the danger of the situation in which he found himself. Long afterwards he said that those two hours remained vividly in his memory as the most unhappy of his whole life. It seemed as if they would never end.
At last the corporal came and touched him on the shoulder, saying in a voice that he tried to make as gentle as possible: "Citizen, four of my men will now take you before the Committee. Follow them quietly. This is by no means a new experience to me, and you may rely on my word that a calm demeaner will have far greater weight with the judges than an exhibition of force."
Talon rose slowly, nodded to the corporal, and without a word calmly followed the guard from the room. With a gendarme on each hand, and two in the rear, escape seemed such a remote possibility that they did not take the trouble to handcuff their prisoner, but in the aforementioned order passed up the stairway leading to the main court room, which was situated on the second floor and at a considerable distance from the head of the stairs.
Arriving at the second landing the gendarme changed the order of procession, two passing to the front and the others to the right and left of Talon, thus bringing all four into his range of vision.
Meantime, his wits had been far from idle. He had noted that there was no one visible in the lower hallway and that the gendarmes were paying but little attention to him. Those on his right and left stood rather close to him and, carefully estimating their distance, he suddenly threw out his elbows with great force, planting a terrific blow exactly in the solar plexus of each, with the result that usually follows that famous punch. Then, with two mighty blows, he accounted for the others before they had time to turn about and see what was happening in the rear.
The attack was so sudden and the blows so fortunately placed that the quartette sank to the floor without uttering a sound, and the coast now being clear, he was down the stairs and out of the building long before the gendarmes had gathered their wits sufficiently to realize that their prisoner had outwitted them. He ran at top speed for about fifteen minutes, thus putting a goodly distance and many turnings between himself and his late bodyguard, until he came to the outskirts of the town where he found a blacksmith's shop, a tumble down shack near the river, which he entered like a hurricane. The vision of this man, who looked as though the wrath of God had struck him, frightened the poor smith out of his wits and he dropped the hammer in his hand instantly. A hurried explanation by Talon followed, which sufficed to enlist the grimy smith as his confederate, who, luckily was not a Jacobin sympathizer.
"It is almost beyond belief, that you were able to escape from the hands of those brigands," said the smith, who, despite his humble occupation, proved to be possessed of considerable education and an intimate knowledge of the political affairs of the day.
"They are probably emissaries of Robespierre and you must hide yourself without delay, for they will probably put a price upon your head. You know, too, that there are many traitors about who would not hesitate to betray you to the Sans-culottas, even if no reward were offered."
As Talon stood thus reflecting, his eye chanced to fall on his shoes, and he noticed that one of the silver buttons was missing.
"By the mass!" he cried, "my first duty must be to return to the Town Hall."
"For what, pray God?" exclaimed the bewildered smith. "All this worry must have driven you mad. Would you again deliver yourself into the hands of those purveyors to the guillotine? You may rest assured, you would not escape from their clutches a second time.”
"You are right, undoubtedly, but where shall I hide ?"
"I believe it would be best to stay here till darkness falls, as a warrant for your arrest must already have been issued." And as though to bear him out, a muffled drumbeat was heard in the distance.
The heat had been intense during the day, and now the sky was obscured by heavy clouds. A summer storm was impending.
"This weather bids fair for your deliverance," said the smith, "as it will serve to cool the ardor of those traitorous hirelings, who, no doubt, have been put on your trail. It is my plan to give you other clothes, so that you may not be recognized, and thus disguised you may make your way across the town to your own home, in the shelter of whose gardens you will be in greater security than here."
Accordingly the, change was made and after a perilous escape Talon reached his gardens, sheltered by the luxuriant foliage of the trees. In the middle of his groves he built a wooden fence, making it appear as if that were the end of his property, and under a huge tree near this improvised wall he remained concealed for fifteen days, receiving food from his sons only in the early morning and at night.
His house was ransacked in several futile attempts to discover him, hiding, his pursuers seemed to think, behind some secret panels.
At length the patience of the authorities was exhausted and a high official came himself to make a personal investigation. They searched the house from garret to cellar but to no avail. Then addressing Madame Talon, the officer said, "Do you swear, Madame, that you do not know the whereabouts of your husband?" and bravely she replied, "Whether I do or do not, it certainly shall not be I who will take you to his hiding place."
"Well, we leave now, but we shall return again in a few days," he said slowly descending the stairs, and then suddenly turning to his men, he exclaimed, "The gardens, you have forgotten the gardens!" and ordered an instant search to be made.
Talon, leaning against a huge tree near the fence, completely overshadowed by its leaves, was offering up his fervent prayers, knowing that the end had come. He could almost feel upon his cheek the breath of the chief officer, who was dangling an iron bar in his hands, and thinking that Talon might be concealed inside one of those mighty barks, struck against the tree such a blow that the poor prisoner almost shrieked with pain, though he retained enough self-possession to slip cautiously up against the fence.
When this search, apparently thorough, proved fruitless, the officers of the law sullenly departed for their headquarters, fearing a reprimand for such unsatisfactory results.
After many weary weeks the search was given up and the incident forgotten, but poor Talon, broken in health and spirit, having sold his estate for a trifle, and crushed by the weight of his misfortunes, was forever released from his earthly struggles on Dec. 6, 1821.
PHILIPPE'S FIRST CONJURING
It is not known what circumstances first turned young Philippe's head toward conjuring, but we learn that as early as his sixteenth year, he had already become somewhat adept in the art, as is evidenced by the following anecdote:
From alpacca wood, he constructed a walking stick with a space inside where a considerable number of coins could be secreted and made to drop from the point, one at a time, by simply turning the knob at the top.
Like most youngsters, he had a very persistent habit of asking questions, particularly when alone with his father. On this memorable occasion, when on a walk outside the town, the boy noticed that his questions seemed to fall on dull ears, and that his father seemed greatly preoccupied. After much questioning, the father finally acknowledged that a small, but very pressing debt, was worrying him, because he had not the wherewithal to discharge it.
"Well, well," laughingly said Philippe, "do you allow such a mere trifle to upset you?"
"At your age, one does not know what trouble is," the father replied mediatively. "After you have gone through life a bit, you will not speak so lightly, my son."
"What if I were to show you how to get money very easily when you are in need of it?"
His father stopped abruptly and struck him a light blow across the face. "At sixteen, I gave you credit for more sense," he said sternly. "I am in no mood for your silly pranks."
"But I give you my word that I am in earnest, father," explained Philippe, pulling up his stick, "and if you wish, I shall give you instant proof."
Whereupon he sounded the sand with his cane, made a circle and having unscrewed the top, let the coins drop all around the circumference, in most resigned and philosophical manner, as the young are wont to assume.
With breath abated the elder Talon watched the performance.
We must not forget, however that in those days especially in small villages people were exceedingly superstitious and Talon was no exception.
"Enough!" cried Philippe's father, raising his fist in wrath. "If you do not stop at once. I shall disinherit you for all time."
Surprised at the grave aspect of the situation, but flattered by the perfect execution of his performance, Philippe explained the harmless invention to his father, who picked up the coins and replaced them in the stick, to his great delight.
As a prosperous merchant, however, Philippe's father urged that a business career was the only solution to a successful future and accordingly Philippe was established as a confectioner at 165 St. Honore Street, Paris.
As he was busily engaged in his sweet shop one day, in an attempt to satisfy the wants of several noisy young urchins, he heard, vaguely and as though in a dream, a sweet, low voice asking for a favorite variety of patisserie, whereupon he became suddenly conscious of a violent thumping of his heart. Turning around, he discovered that the cause of the derangement was a veritable vision of loveliness, clad ia the demurest of pale blue frocks, blending harmoniously with the deeper hue of her soft, liquid eyes, whose curly lashes cast faint shadows round these orbs of beauty.
With what wonderous dexterity did Cupid aim his arrow! In a month Philippe had won the hand of his lady love, Louise Victoire Masson, by name, firmly resolved to treasure and cherish his prize forevermore. Perhaps it was the decree of Fate, or perhaps Philippe was to grossly absorbed in his fair young bride of seventeen summers, but his confections failed to catch the Parisian fancy. Undaunted, however, and with high hopes, he opened an establishment in London, where French bonbons were in great demand. But alas! Fortune did not choose to smile upon him, and poor Philippe moved on to Aberdeen, Scotland, where he was very soon reduced to sore straights.
There was at that time, in Aberdeen, an unfortunate group of pantomime players, who were unable to win the public favor.
However, necessity being the mother of invention, Philippe hit upon the following happy idea. He went to the manager of the company and explained his novel plan of combining forces, suggesting that the admission fee be raised sixpence, for which each patron would receive a bag of mixed sweets and also a lottery ticket whereby the lucky one would receive a huge box of bonbons worth five pounds. He promised furthermore a surprising feature at the end of the performance, besides supplying all sweets free of charge.
The first night, attracted by the startling announcements, curious spectators filled the house, shouting with glee at the sight of the bonbons and applauding the pantomime as well. The play was drawing to its close, and the audience, still in suspense, was awaiting the "surprise" feature of the evening, when Philippe, in the role of Punch, fancifully arrayed in a costume of spangles, executed a doll dance with marked grace. In the last round, pretending to fall, he called for some tablets to alleviate his pain. Eagerly coming to his aid, one of the actors brought forth pills of such huge dimensions, that instead of sighs of sympathy, peals of laughter resounded through the hall.
However, not in the least disconcerted, Philippe proceeded to swallow the pills, much to the amusement of his audience, proving himself not only an excellent dancer, but a conjuror as well. By the combined efforts of Philippe's novel scheme and the pantomime show, success followed the company till the close of the season, when young Talon branched out on his own.
In a short time Philippe had perfected his performance to such a degree that he built, according to Robert-Houdin, a small, wooden theatre in Glasgow. It was while supervising the construction of this humble edifice that he discovered a young bricklayer, named Andrew Macalister, who soon evidenced natural ability for conjury. Philippe apprenticed Macallister, who renamed Domingo and guised as a Negro, added in no small measure to the success of his master. He later became famous as a magician under the name of Macallister, and introduced in America Philippe's gift show.
After attaining popularity in Scotland and England, Philippe toured Ireland. Especially significant of his stay in Dublin is that he there met the Chinese magician who sold him two of his greatest illusions, the Goldfish Trick and the Chinese Rings.
And now, another instance of Philippe's ingenuity came to light in connection with the Gold Fish Trick. To supplv the voluminous draperies which this illusion required, he designed a long and flowing robe, studded with multicolored spangles and a gaily-hued cone shaped headress to match. The only real likeness of Philippe, thus far discovered, is taken in this costume. It is a beautifully colored pastel in Vienna and is now in the Houdini collection.
Philippe [Jacques André Noel Talon].- Phillippe der berühmte Zauberer aus Paris,a fine engraving by Andreas Geiger after Schoeller depicting the conjuror standing before tiers of candelabra, coloured by hand, in heavy card mount, 298mm. by 239mm., Vienna, [c.1845].*** Plate 82 from the Costume Bild zur Theaterzeitung.
After touring Austria with great success, fortified by his Chinese illusions, he returned to his native land in 1841 and appeared at the Salle Montesquieu, Paris. Later he opened the Bonne-Nouvelle Theatre, where he created the sensation referred to by Robert-Houdin in his Memoirs.
EUROPE LAUDS PHILIPPE
Philippe left Paris to perform in the provinces and everywhere met with instantaneous success. He was the lion of the hour and the press sang his praises lavishly. The following admirable account appeared in the Courier de l’Aisne, August 1, 1847.
"Mr. Philippe is in truth a wonderful character. Quick as lightning, his gaze penetrating the entire stage in a flash, he is, withal, gentle of demeanor. We cannot say that he is a mere vaudeville artist, but rather a generous and talented host, who has invited a company of guests to do him honor. We are at a loss, we confess, to explain how he is enabled to make the sacrifice of such delicious sweets, flowers and liquors, at such exceedingly small admission fees.
It is interesting to note from the foregoing that Philippe adhered to his original plan of the lottery, or gift show, practically throughout his entire career and the following paragraph appeared in most of his programs:
"An unexpected present at once gratuitous and laughable, composed of twelve prizes, nine lucky and three unfortunate, in which the general public will participate."
His popularity and fame brought him, a chain of brilliant engagements in all parts of Europe. In Brussells, he made a tremendous hit at the Theatre de la Monnaie, receiving 3,000 francs per night.
His tour through Italy, Greece, Turkey, Germany, Sweden, Denmark and Norway was one long ovation, a veritable path of roses.
At length, weary of his travels, he opened a confectionery shop at Bergen, but alas! it met with the same fate as his previous attempts, and after persevering for three years, he again took up his magic wand.
In 1869 he left for Russia and played a remarkable engagement at the Alexandre Theatre in St. Petersburg, little suspecting that it was the last of his red letter days.
THE CHANGE OF FORTUNE
Confronted with many financial embarrassments, and no longer possessing the charm of his youth, Philippe met with one disaster after another in Asia-Russia. In his letters to his family, he described pitifully the crude methods of travel in that country, and the hardships of his journeys through blinding sleet and storm. Even before he reached Russia, misfortune overtook him, as may seen from the following letter written in Berlin:
Berlin, May 2, 1854.
My Poor Mother-in-Law!
So much bad luck has overtaken me and I have experienced such moral suffering and grief that I have been separated from my wife for seventeen months.
The embarrassment in which Andre left me in Lember, causing me the loss of my reputation after beating me, I shall never forgive him. Although the police authorized me to work in certain districts, he took my name and tried to gain permission to perform there, but failed throughout his entire route. He robbed me even of my assistant and left me destitute of any help. I do not believe there is another such brute in the entire world.
After he had beaten me, the police wanted to put him in prison, but I wept like a child so they released him. It was after they had set him free that he tried to run away, attempting to ruin me completely, for he had become a veritable beast, and made me suffer martyrdom.
I believe it would be better for you to sell the things which are left, for due to my ill luck, I am in no position to come to your aid for a long time. It is my intention to remain in Berlin a few more weeks and if I am able to summon up courage, I shall go back to my wife, and whatever happens death alone can separate us.
Keep faith, and it may be God's will to better my station. Though I have suffered considerably, I have a slight hope that Mrs. W………………. has helped you, when I was unable to do so.
God bless you. With tears in my eyes, I kiss you, I
Philippe,
who could, who should have thousands of francs.
We next find Philippe in Vienna, where, according to a letter to his son, ill-luck had set in in earnest:
Vienna, July 30,
August 11th in France.
My son:
I received your letter on the 27th and believe that it took no more than 25 days to get here. It is a long time since I have heard from your mother and there are several reasons why I have not answered her. First, because my debts are so numerous and not having a single penny to send her, I live in the greatest discouragement, for in Russia, I never found myself in such a predicament.
In short, such a series of accidents have befallen me, that in spite of my dislike to write of them, I shall try to give you a few of the details.
I came to this city in the middle of a very severe winter. The storms and whirlwind had retarted my progress en route, and put me in very bad shape. It was absolutely essential for me to reach here December 31st in order to release my stage assistant from military duty, for I had promised the mayor of Cemmpalatrisku* that we would confer with him at Vienna before January 1st or on the 1st at the latest.
However on the 26th of December we were snowbound at the foot of a big mountain for the roads and the valleys were enveloped in a blanket of snow and the driver would not risk starting for this mountain, clad in its glistening mantle. It was only by offering him a substantial increase in his fee that he consented to attempt the journey, and so in a light and open wagon we finally reached our destination, my men following us the next day. Not having enough to pay for the trip, after such extraordinary expenses, the postmaster accepted a note to be paid in Vienna, and this note is still unpaid. At another station I left behind one of my two wagons to be sent to me at Vienna, for which I have to pay 11 roubles. Not having the required 25 roubles to pay in Vienna, the big wagon was left at the station.
It took me fifteen days to hire a hall, and eventually I gave two shows, but at great expense, my lodging and wood costing me 50 roubles for two months.
It was directly after these two shows that another accident was added to my misfortunes. I fell, cutting my hands so badly in two places as to entirely disable it, thus rendering it necessary to discontinue my shows. After a while I accepted an engagement in an out-of-door cafe, but again Fate ordained failure and the bad weather combined with huge expenses made me forfeit what little I had. Moreover. I have been recognized by two Russian merchants, one of whom I owe more than 300 roubles and 150 to the other. I am utterly at sea.
*Probably a town in Russia.
Philippe left Vienna and in time reached Kazan, where sickness added to his other misfortunes of which he speaks in the following letter:
Vitake ………
My dear Lise!
I have left the City of Kazan to come here. I had to travel in the snow for five days, for we made no progress at all during the night in order to protect ourselves.
At Kazan I was seriously ill. I thought it would be possible for me to earn enough at Kazan to come to Paris. I erected a wooden theatre built of boards and heated by eleven stoves, which cost me 2,000 roubles. Just when I was beginning to do good business the new mayor of the town, a rogue, in truth, thinking too much money had come my way, took away my permit, causing me considerable losses and made me miss the big fairs at Kazan and other cities.
This was a terrible disappointment for me and I became ill from the strain and worry. Had I been a drunkard, I would have reached the depths long ago.
I don't write you often for it is distasteful to tell you all this sad news, but please remember that before sending the last 25 roubles, I sent you once two roubles and then again 3. In writing the address, however, No. 7 was omitted and it was returned to me from Paris. I write you now to let you know my new address, and am also including one rouble.
It is Lent in Petersburg (in Moscow the magicians performed during Lent) but in the Provinces, not only are the theatres closed but the peasants observe this holiday very strictly and go to no places of amusement. In Petersburg and Moscow, however, there are more strangers and people are less scrupulous. Nevertheless, it is my firm decision to pass another winter in Russia, for I am too old to start again in Paris.
If God preserves my health it is my hope to see you next winter. For the moment, good-bye, and may the Lord give you and your children good health.
Should I earn anything during the Easter holidays, I shall send you as much as possible.
I kiss you,
Affectionately,
PHILIPPE.
Address Viatke, Government of the same name.
But Viatka must have been equally unhappy for Philippe, as we find the tortured conjuror has flitted on to Vierne, where, doubtless, he again looked for fortune, but alas in vain. Financial troubles were bending him low, and to the burden he already carried was added the weight of an accident which made it impossible for him to work. He tells of his misfortunes in the following letter to his son:
Vierne, February 11, 1877.
My poor Edmund:—
I received your letter about ten days ago, and it is only after a great deal of effort that I have decided to take up my pen. My courage has been put to a most cruel test by the misfortune which befell me, more than five weeks ago, and has been a source of great anxiety to me.
After making a trip of more than 100 lieux in the snow (one station of 7 lieux cost me 27 roubles) we came upon a mountain which I had passed in the month of November. This mountain was surrounded by deep valeys and on my return early in January, the roads were filled with snow which had fallen during the Bourasques (these are icy whirlwinds accompanied by snow). In a word, if the coachman had not known the road, we would have been lost and frozen to death. At times the horses would sink half way into the snow.
However, all this was noting compared to the misfortunes which followed.
One day, I was shaving in my room (my lodging is composed of two rooms and an antechamber) and held a beautiful china basin filled with water in my hand. I went out soas not to spill any of it in the room: my foot was caught between two carpets; I fell headlong into the antechamber. The plate smashed and made a deep cut in the middle of my hand, also severing a capillary vessel in my thumb, causing a great loss of blood. Of course I have been unable to work and my face has grown haggard from grief.
Your mother ought to go to the Third Arrondissement, Petite Peres, and request them to do something for her.
Now, my financial status seems to entirely efface the slightest ray of hope. 81 of the shares which I bought and on which I borrowed 1,400 roubles are deposited at the Bank of Trouky and 5 at Tara. The two banks are threatening to sell them as the talk of war has lowered their value. Seventeen months ago they were worth 260 roubles each, now they are only worth 180 which maks a loss of about 7,000 roubles. If they are sold. I am ruined.
Two of my men became so drunk that one had to go to prison, while the other is doing military service, so that I have only one with me, and he is unable to write and cannot help me in the least with my tricks. I am utterly in despair.
En route to this city from Kolja, I was short of money, so I had to sign a note for 25 roubles, the fee to pass the mountain. 2 roubles went to the coachman, who looked after my baggage and the two wagons, which required 25 horses to pull. The baggage had to be taken out of the wagons and put into a sleigh. My debts amount to 75 roubles and I am unable to work.
There are seven weeks of Lent, during which time nobody goes to the theatre and it seems as though all odds are against me. Were I ten years younger, I would start "candymaking," but even for this, there is no money.
I shall close this letter which I determined to write, thus disheartened, though courage has never before failed me.
I received your letter addressed to Copare. The Bank of Trouky wrote me in the month of February that, unless I paid the interest on my shares, 750 roubles, they would sell them. (Due to my ill luck I was unable to send even a single penny.)
The post office closes in half an hour so that I shall finish now, but by the next mail I shall continue my story.
Thank you for your newspaper. I shall answer on that in my next letter.
Concerning the Turks, you may be convinced that the Russians will put them to reason and force them out of the Balkans. What with the Turks without shoes, without money, bad administration, they will be completely routed.
A wire yesterday announced that the Serbs will take up arms again, but Russia can put 3,000,000 soldiers against the Turks and have another 3,000,000 to guard the city and frontiers. I know some Russians in Paris. Tell them for your father, that he'll bet 100 to 1 that the Turks will be whipped. I must send my letter instanter. I shall write to you by the next mail, please God. Read my letter to your mother.
Good bye
Your father
J. Philippe Talon.
E. Patrick Talon, son of Philippe, and the author of the accompanying article. Photograph made in Paris.
Edmund Patrick Talon, son of Philippe, with Harry Houdini
After his many dire experiences, Philippe, in a letter to his son, sounds a note of optimism, faint thought it be. He speaks of his misfortunes as if they were matters of the past. He has practically discharged his debts, he relates, and has been able to move to another village, though the journey was a heavy drain on his slender purse.
Wkmaki, October 26, 1877.
My son:
At last I have left that wretched city (Vierne) where the unfortunate accident of having my left hand horribly smashed, stopped me from following my route and also from paying the interest on the money which I borrowed from the bank. The Committee at the bank feared depreciation, the moment the war broke out, and sold my shares (81) at 174 rouble ench. Two years ago I could have sold them at 250 or 260. This difference of 75 to 80 roubles per share means a total loss of 6,000 roubles to me. I waited several months in the hope of selling them. I should have received 2 to 3,000 roubles, but now only 24 roubles remain to pay my debts of 500 roubles, which weigh heavily on my head.
I shall not speak of all the misfortunes which have befallen me and of the sacrifices I have made to overcome this misery, but thank God I am out of it all. I am working now, and make my traveling expenses in the various villages en route. I pray that I may have the health to reach the big city of Tasquin or rather Taschkent (Russian name of the city.)*
Today I depart for a village 170 werftes** from here with my two wagons and my men, one of whom is a Tartar and the other a Russian. At Vierne my two men became drunk and quarelled, so I had to discharge one, and hired another.
It is 328 werftes from here to Aouli Ata and the first village is 165 werftes away. My funds are so low that I have barely enough to even take me to the village.
I shall stop now so that this letter may get off, trusting that I may be in Tachkent in six or seven weeks, when I hope things will have turned for the better. As soon as I can earn an extra rouble it will go to your mother, God bless her.
You may answer me at Tachkent, Turkestan. Good-bye, kiss your poor mother for me, and also Florentine.
Were I to relate all my troubles, you would think them incredible and it was not till today that I had the courage to take up my pen.
Adieu, Your father
J. Philippe Talon.
*A city which the Russians took from the Sarthes and Kerkes, two races in the Caucausus Mountains.
**About a mile.
Louise Victoire Masson
The wife of the mystifier—reproduction made from a rare photograph.
Eventually Philippe made his way out of fateful Russia and journeyed into Turkestan with high hopes. In a letter to his wife, which indicates his renewed spirit, he tells interestingly of his reception in his new territory. This letter I am reprinting:
Boukharst, May 18, 30.
My poor wife:
I profit by the departure of a friend, to write you these few lines. By the grace of God I have left Russia, which has endeared it self to my memory because of Emperor Alexander. Everything is so new and strange here it seems almost like jumping from the nether world to Paradise.
I have joined a company of five people, namely a watchmaker, a Jew to whom I owe money, an interpret or, a Sarthe and a Russian. My assistant, whom I am training to serve me on the stage is also a Sarthe.*
There are but three wagons among us. The Jew, the watchmaker and my assistant have one for themselves and me, the Sarthe and the interpreter occupy another, and an extra one for the luggage. These wagons are usually from six to seven feet high, and have no springs, which of course necessitates slow progress. In ordinary roadwagons, we cover about 6 to 8 lieux a day (lieu is about 5 kilometers.)
At the village where we made our first stop, the Bek** invited us to be his guests. All the Sarthes are dressed in long gowns and turbans of calicot. An interesting feature of the women's attire is the heavy black veil which allows no part of her face, except the eyes and forehead, to be exposed.
It is difficult for me to give you an adequate description of the grand reception given us, and all because of a letter I received from the Governor of Samaroude.
The houses are built of adobe. They are all square and are of a remarkable simplicity. It was in one of these that I was requested to give a soires the second day after our arrival.
The moment I entered the large hall, they served tea in quaint fashion. A table was brought, loaded with all sorts of delicacies, among which were pastry, almonds, pistaches, tea (plenty of it, too) and also sugar. In this country no one drinks either white or red wine, or in fact liquors of any kind. One is reduced to either water or tea. This, of course, makes little difference to me, for I have long ago accustomed myself to drink nothing but water.
The "Bek" was charming and grandiose.
It was interesting to see the kind of people who attended the soiree. There were beautiful carpets on the floor, upon which all the guests were seated, with their legs crossed in customary fashion, exception the "bek" who reclined in state on a couch prepared for him.
Before our departure I received 100 coins, each worth 32 kopecks and three gowns worth about 50 to 60 roubles. Every member of my company received a native costume of the Sarthes.
That night we packed and left the next morning, accompanied by two gendarmes on horseback, bound for a little town, which is the residence of the son of the Sultan. Preparations for us were already under way, in anticipation of our arrival, for a courier had heralded us in advance, and we were put up in very comfortable quarters.
In the morning the Sultan’s son received us and said that on my return he would like to give me a soiree, but his father desired to see me first. On leaving his mansion, fifty soldiers presented arms to me. At the door they told us to wait, and a Sarthe brought me 300 coins, each worth 32 kopecks and 3 cloaks; also one for each of my company. The Jew got hold of the 60 roubels by force and it almost resulted in a right, but as the scandal would be disasterous to my reputation, I yielded.
En route to Boukharst, three envoys of the Minister arrived to guide us to the city. Everything had been arranged. One of them took my letter and brought it to the Minister. He mailed it to the Sultan, who was at that time 40 lieu from Boukharet. To date I have not yet received a reply.
I have no more paper, but as soon as I get some, I shall send you money. My prospects are beginning to look brighter, and if God gives me health, I shall soon help you.
Adieu, I kiss you all,
Your husband,
J. Philippe
P. S. It is so exceedingly warm here, that by putting an egg on the sand, it is hard boiled in an hour. The people of this country are half black. They are very generous and hospitable and it has not been necessary for me to spend even a single penny since my arrival.
*A department in Northern France, the capital of which is Le Mans.
**A kind of mayor.
Philippe's bright prospects, of which he speaks in such hopeful terms, never materialized, for in Turkestan he again met with failure, with the exception of one or two minor private entertainments at the home of his officials. The rebuff of Fate, after all the fond hopes, rested upon him more heavily than his overburdened shoulders could bear, and broken in health and crushed in spirit, he breathed his last on June 27th, 1878, in a strange and distant land, far away from his beloved France and his dear ones.
Originally published in the M-U-M in Vol. 11, No. 6, (Whole No. 105) in New York, December 1921.
