Again, too, Anderson sends out into the streets, before daybreak, a dozen men, carrying those open frames, by means of which, and with a brush and lamp-black, the walls of Paris have been so long covered with puffs. These people print the announcement of the Wizard’s performance on the pavement, which is always kept remarkably clean in England. In spite of himself, every tradesman on opening his shop, and every inhabitant proceeding to business, cannot but read the name of Anderson, and the announcement of his performance. It is true that a few hours later these puffs are effaced by the footsteps of the passers-by, but thousands of persons have read them, and the Wizard requires no more.
His posters are equally original, and I was shown one of a gigantic size put out on the occasion of his return to London after a lengthened absence in the provinces. It was a caricature imitation of the famous picture “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 skillful puffer’s pockets.
When Anderson is about to leave a town where he has exhausted all his resources, and has nothing more to hope, he still contrives to make one more enormous haul.
He orders from the first jeweller in the town a silver vase, worth twenty or twenty-five pounds; he hires, for one evening only, the largest theatre or room in the town, and announces that in the Wizard’s parting performance the spectators will compete to make the best pun.
The silver vase is to be the prize of the victor.
A jury is chosen among the chief people of the town to decide with the public on the merits of each pun.