The Wonders of Optics

by Fulgence Marion

Fig. 52.—The Phantasmagoria.

The phantasmagoria lantern is generally mounted on a stand provided with castors so that it may be moved about at will. It consists of a box as represented in [fig. 52], inclosing a lamp with a metallic reflector, the bundle of rays being sent through the centre of the tube containing the slide and lenses, as before described. The chimney serves to carry off the products of combustion generated by the lamp. In [fig. 53] we have shown the interior of the tube containing the lenses. Between this tube and the body of the lantern there is a space within which slide the glasses whereon are painted the figures and landscapes that are to be thrown on the white screen. The luminous rays given off by the reflector in the interior of the lantern pass through a plano-convex lens placed with the flat side outwards. In front comes the double convex lens, or object-glass, which can be moved backwards and forwards by means of a rack and pinion. There is also a movable diaphragm, which is worked with a couple of cords, by pulling which the aperture is made larger or smaller at will. By moving the lantern backwards and forwards, working the rack and pinion and the diaphragm at the same time, the view seen by the spectator seems to advance and recede. The pictures are painted on glass with transparent colours, the glasses being generally about five inches in diameter. To render the illusion perfect it is necessary that the spectator should be placed in a partially dark room, being separated from the operator by the screen already mentioned. Everything being ready, the spectators having but little notion of the distance of the screen, a very small picture is shown to them first, the illumination being reduced to a minimum by pulling the cords which act on the diaphragm. The little picture first seen by them will appear to be situated at an enormous distance; but as the lantern is brought almost imperceptibly nearer to the screen, the image appears to advance towards them in a very surprising manner, at last appearing almost as if it were going to fall upon the spectators.

Fig. 53.—The Phantascope.

Robertson, an English optician who was settled in Paris some fifty years since, was one of the first to exhibit the phantasmagoria with success. In order to obtain the best results he used a room some sixty or eighty feet long, and twenty-four wide, which he hung entirely with black. Of this a strip twenty-five feet long was cut off and devoted to the manipulation of the phantasmagoria. This portion of the apartment was separated from the spectators by a white calico screen, tightly strained from side to side, and at first concealed from view by a black curtain. The calico screen, which was about twenty feet square, was well soaked in a mixture of starch and fine gum arabic, in order to render it semi-transparent. The floor was raised about four or five feet at one end in order that the whole of the spectators might have a free and uninterrupted view of what was going on.

It is undoubtedly to Robertson that we owe most of the improvements in the phantasmagoria. The success of his performances in Paris during the first Revolution has never been equalled by any similar exhibition. The enthusiasm excited amongst the Parisian public at the time surpassed that awakened even by Cagliostro and Mesmer. The spirit which guided Robertson in exhibiting these wonders was totally opposed to that which animated the two charlatans just mentioned. Robertson, unlike them, sought to spread the notion that there was nothing occult or supernatural in the marvels he exhibited, but that they resulted simply from the application of a few simple laws of optics. We shall presently give an account of one these famous séances, which were powerful enough to distract the attention of the people of that day from the stormy events that were going on around them; but we will first allow our author to tell the story of his experiments in optics in his own words.

“From my very earliest infancy,” he says in his Memoirs, “my lively and passionate imagination caused me to be dominated over by the marvellous in a very powerful manner. Anything that seemed to go beyond nature in any way, excited in me an ardour which then appeared to me capable of overcoming all obstacles in order to realize the effects I had conceived. Father Kircher, it was said, believed that the magic lantern was the invention of the Evil One. All the worse for Father Kircher, who was gifted with a great intellect, and many persons were tempted to say that he might possibly have some cause for believing in the diabolical origin of a simple optical instrument. But as the writer who has thus reproached Father Kircher with too much credulity has not cited those passages of the work in which this statement may be found, I did not think seriously of the matter. Who has not in his younger days believed in witches, hobgoblins, and compacts with the devil? I know I did, and worse; for I imagined and fully believed that an innocent old woman who was a neighbour of ours, really had dealings with Lucifer, as every one asserted. I even went so far as to envy her the power of conferring with the Evil One, and once shut myself up in my room with an unhappy live cock, whose head I cut off in the most barbarous manner, having heard that that was the most approved manner of summoning into one’s presence the great head of all the demons. I waited for him several hours, calling on him to appear, threatening to deny his existence for the future if he did not appear, but all to no purpose. The books on magic and the black art that I had read had completely turned my head. I believed everything that was in them, and I desired ardently to perform the wonders they described, even with the aid of the devil. The Magia Naturalis of Porta, and the Recreations of Midorge, which treated simply of natural phenomena, had no effect upon me, but I was at last obliged to fall back on the principles involved in them, in order to create the diabolical appearances I had sought after in what I considered a truly supernatural manner, until at, last my dwelling became a true Pandemonium.

“It is only our grandmothers, it has been said for a long time, who believe in magic, witches, and supernatural appearances; but the statement is hardly true, seeing how easily the country people fall a prey to the first cheat who chooses to invest himself with supernatural powers. We have sufficiently ridiculed the superstitions of the ancients, and numberless instances may be adduced which are a shame to their intelligence, and which gives, so to speak, a denial to the stories we have heard of their high state of civilization. But I believe, if we were to make a collection of all the stories of ghosts, of mysterious appearances, of communications between the living and the departed, of the discoveries of hidden treasures, &c., &c., which have taken place even since the Revolution, before whose power so many dark things have been brought to light, the collection would hardly be less bulky than that of the ancient superstitions now happily passed away.”

Robertson then goes on to take great credit to himself for showing the world that all the superstitions concerning ghosts, spectral appearances, and other illusions of a similar nature, were to be easily accomplished, by simply studying natural laws. He appears first to have begun his optical experiments with the solar microscope, and we hear of his landlord taking an action against him to recover damages for having pierced the doors of his rooms with innumerable holes. He studied the subject both theoretically and practically for many years, in company with his friend Villette, and at last announced a public séance at the Pavillon de l’Echiquier at Paris. A multitude of advertisements and prospectuses, written in the high-flown style of the time, were issued, and distributed throughout the city. The newspapers of the day are full of accounts of the extraordinary impression made on the minds of the Parisians by Robertson’s wonderful exhibition. The old-fashioned word magic lantern was quite abandoned, and the new and high sounding Greek appellation, “phantasmagoria,” was heard issuing from every one’s mouth. There is an amusing account given of Robertson’s exhibition in one of the contemporary journals, written by Poultier, one of the representatives of the people. He says: “A decemvir of the republic has said that the dead return no more, but go to Robertson’s exhibition and you will soon be convinced of the contrary, for you will see the dead returning to life in crowds. Robertson calls forth phantoms, and commands legions of spectres. In a well-lighted apartment in the Pavillon de l’Echiquier I found myself seated a few evenings since, with some sixty or seventy people. At seven o’clock a pale thin man entered the room where we were sitting, and having extinguished the candles he said: ‘Citizens and gentlemen, I am not one of those adventurers and impudent swindlers who promise more than they can perform. I have assured the public in the Journal de Paris that I can bring the dead to life, and I shall do so. Those of the company who desire to see the apparitions of those who were dear to them, but who have passed away from this life by sickness or otherwise, have only to speak, and I shall obey their commands.’ There was a moment’s silence, and a haggard looking man, with dishevelled hair and sorrowful eyes, rose in the midst of the assemblage and exclaimed, ‘As I have been unable in an official journal to re-establish the worship of Marat, I should at least be glad to see his shadow.’ Robertson immediately threw upon a brasier containing lighted coals, two glasses of blood, a bottle of vitriol, a few drops of aquafortis, and two numbers of the Journal des Hommes Libres, and there instantly appeared in the midst of the smoke caused by the burning of these substances, a hideous livid phantom armed with a dagger and wearing a red cap of liberty. The man at whose wish the phantom had been evoked seemed to recognise Marat, and rushed forward to embrace the vision, but the ghost made a frightful grimace and disappeared. A young man next asked to see the phantom of a young lady whom he had tenderly loved, and whose portrait he showed to the worker of all these marvels. Robertson threw on the brasier a few sparrow’s feathers, a grain or two of phosphorus, and a dozen butterflies. A beautiful woman, with her bosom uncovered and her hair floating about her, soon appeared, and smiled on the young man with the most tender regard and sorrow. A grave-looking individual sitting close by me suddenly exclaimed ‘Heavens! it’s my wife come to life again,’ and he rushed from the room, apparently fearing that what he saw was not a phantom.