CHAPTER VIII.

SHADOWGRAPHY. BY HENRY RIDGELY EVANS. Paris is the home of the fantaisiste. These rare exotics flourish in the genial atmosphere of the great French capital, and cater to the most critical, as well as the most appreciative, public in the world. No matter how trivial your profession may be, if you are an artist in your particular line, you may be sure of an admiring audience. To-day you are a performer in the _cafés_; to-morrow you tread the boards of some minor theater, and the journals duly chronicle your _début_, sometimes with as much elaborateness as they would “write up” that of a new singer at the Grand Opera. Two of the greatest entertainers in Paris to-day are Yvette Guilbert, _chanteuse eccentrique_, and M. Félicien Trewey--fantaisiste, mimic, shadowgraphist, and juggler. It is M. Trewey and his wonderful art I wish to introduce to the American reader. The clever Frenchman is one of the best sleight-of-hand artists in France, but his lasting fame has been made through his ombromanie, or shadowgraphy, the art of casting silhouettes with his hands, on an illuminated screen. These silhouettes are projected with marvelous dexterity of manipulation. The idea of projecting the shadows of different objects (among others the hands) upon a plane surface is very ancient, and it would be idle to attempt to assign a date to the creation of these animals and classic figures, such as the rabbit, swan, negro, etc., that have served to amuse children in the evening since time immemorial. Within a few years these rude figures have been improved, and the play of shadows has now become a true art instead of a simple diversion. The Italian painter Campi was one of the first who thought of adding new types to the collection of figures capable of being made with the shadow of the hands. He devised amusing forms of animals that delighted the school-children before whom he loved to exhibit them. His imitator, Frizze, imported the nascent art into Belgium, and it was in this latter country that Trewey got his knowledge of it. Trewey was not long in discovering that ombromanie was capable of improvement, and, after patient exercise of his fingers to render them supple, he succeeded in producing new silhouettes, which are, each in its kind, little masterpieces. [Illustration: TREWEY EXHIBITING UPON A STAGE.] Trewey has made his hands so supple that he not only can form the most diverse figures upon a screen, but can also give them motion and life. The swan smoothing its plumage, the bird taking flight, the cat making its toilet, the tight-rope dancer, who, after saluting the public, rubs chalk on her feet before walking on the rope, are true wonders, and it is hard to believe that these perfectly accurate profiles are obtained solely by means of the shadow of the hands. The artist has thus far devised more than three hundred figures, and his inventive mind is leading him to get up new ones every day. The better to initiate the reader into the art of ombromanie, let me take, for example, the dog’s head represented in Fig. 1 (No. 1). The ears are erect, the snout is thrust forward, and we conjecture that the animal has just scented a choice bit; in fact, he is snapping at it (No. 2). No. 4 shows us the efforts that he is making to swallow his prey, which is represented by the angle of the bent forefinger that moves in the mouth. After strong efforts, the mouth is seen to close (No. 3), showing the act of swallowing. A progressive motion of the hand shows us the swelling of the throat caused by the descent of the food in the œsophagus. One would imagine that he had before him the shadow of a genuine dog, so wonderful, natural, and accurate are the motions. After this laborious repast, we finally see the animal yawning voluptuously, the middle finger representing the tongue, which cleaves to the palate, and the general profile of the head expressing the completest beatitude. [Illustration: FIG. 1.--SHADOWS OF A DOG SWALLOWING A PIECE OF MEAT.] It is very evident that, in order to reach such a degree of perfection, the artist must be naturally endowed with great manual dexterity. There are signs by which such dexterity is recognized, and an attentive examination of Trewey’s hand has enabled me to verify the laws laid down by M. Henri Étienne upon the native perfection of the senses. Thirty-five years of research have permitted M. Étienne, who has been continuously in contact, in shops, with Swiss watchmakers’ apprentices, experienced workmen, and artists even, to find a certain criterion by which to judge of aptitudes in different trades and several professions. One day M. Étienne was present in the shop of a skillful master watchmaker, when there entered a young Frenchman, an ex-law student, who was desirous of apprenticing himself to the watchmaking trade. The neophyte, who was very intelligent looking, received a cordial reception. While pressing the hand of the future workman, a cloud passed over the placid face of the master-watchmaker. “What did you feel, then, in pressing the hand of that young man who has just gone out?” asked M. Étienne. “With hands like his we don’t make a watchmaker,” was the reply, and the prediction came true. It was as a consequence of this conversation that M. Étienne sought and discovered the following rules: The characteristic of dexterity is shown in the first place by the _curve of the thumb arched outwardly_. This is an indispensable condition for the handling of the hammer. The blacksmith, who wields with his arm the heavy striking mass that he lets fall perpendicularly, without deviation, repeatedly upon the same point; the file-cutter, who strikes such regular blows upon the chisel that no flaw is visible in the cut, so equal everywhere is the imprint of the tool--these and all superb workmen, all artists who shape white-hot iron with the hammer, who chisel the precious metals, who sculpture marble and stone, owe the exact precision in the force and accuracy of the blows that they give with the hammer to the suppleness of the first joint of the thumb. A second characteristic of skillfulness is indicated by the faculty of reversing the metacarpal phalanges of the fingers, so that when the hand is extended it is convex. On the greater or less flexibility of all the joints, either at the base or extremity of the fingers, depend the dexterity and skillfulness displayed in work executed with the file, plane, or lathe. The two characteristics mentioned above--the curved thumb and the peculiar suppleness of the fingers--are in most cases united in the same person. The more important of these is the first. Trewey’s hand, reproduced by molding, figures in several English museums. It possesses the faculty of reversal of the phalanges to the highest degree, and the thumb, which is of wonderful suppleness, renders Trewey, as we shall see, the greatest service in the formation of his shadows. Let me add that his fingers, which are long and slender, differ very perceptibly in length, the middle finger, for example, exceeding the ring finger by nearly an inch. [Illustration: FIG. 2.--THE FISHERMAN.] In addition to the profiles of men and animals, the artist, by means of a few accessories, exhibits to us living persons playing amusing pantomimes. Here, for example (Fig. 2), we have a fisherman. A piece of cardboard, properly shaped and held between two fingers, forms the hat; the boat is a piece of wood held in one of the artist’s hands; a metallic ring holds the fish-pole against the thumb of the other hand, and it is opposite this latter, bent as shown in the figure, that we observe all the emotions of the fortunate fisherman, who, phlegmatic at first, and livening up when the fish bites, finally is triumphant when he has it at the end of his line. It is necessary to have witnessed all these little scenes in order to understand how, by means of his fingers alone, the artist can evoke the laughter and applause of hundreds of spectators. Here, now (Fig. 3), we have a scene with two persons. It is a fight between a janitress and one of her tenants. As may be seen, the accessories are here very simple again. [Illustration: FIG. 3.--FIGHT BETWEEN A JANITRESS AND TENANT.] To make the shadows sharp, the following things are indispensable: The source of light must be a single lamp inclosed in a projecting apparatus, throwing very divergent rays. The lens must consequently be of very short focus. The electric light or oxyhydrogen lamp necessary in a theater may be replaced at the amateur’s house by a lamp, or, better, by a wax candle, or, indeed, even by a common candle that gives very sharp shadows. The mirrors in the room where the exhibition is given must be veiled in order to prevent reflections, and all brilliant objects must be removed. When the oxyhydrogen lamp is used, the screen is placed ten feet away from the light, and the artist’s hands at three feet from the same, and consequently at seven from the screen. But it will be understood that there can be no absolute rule about this, all depending upon the scale of the figures. It suffices to recall the fact that the nearer the hand is brought to the light, the more the shadow enlarges and loses its intensity, while on bringing the hand nearer the screen, the shadow becomes sharper, but smaller and smaller. Fig. 4 shows Trewey exhibiting the scene of the preacher in the pulpit. The canopy is formed by the arm and the first phalanges of the fingers bent at right angles, while a block of wood affixed to the arm near the wrist forms the pulpit. In order that the preacher may appear smaller than the pulpit, he must necessarily be nearer the screen, and this explains the distance apart of the artist’s arms in the engraving, the screen being situated in front of the arm that forms the preacher. The necessary distances, however, are best determined by experiment. Trewey’s appearance on the stage is very prepossessing. He is a man of commanding physique, with a jovial countenance, indicative of the comedian. He always appears in full court costume--dress coat, silk stockings, and pumps. On his first appearance on the stage he wears a long Spanish cloak, which he removes before beginning his entertainment of juggling and sleight-of-hand. He is the past grand master of balancing feats, the startling nature of which causes one to hold his breath with dismay at such boldness and audacity. His dexterity in throwing cards is really extraordinary. I have seen him project these little oblongs of glazed cardboard from the stage of the Alhambra, London (the largest hall in Europe) to the farthest part of the top gallery. He also possesses great skill in the unique art of writing backwards any word or sentence chosen by the audience, and he is a lightning sketch artist of no mean ability. “Tabarin,” or twenty-five heads under one hat, is a performance named after the inventor, a certain M. Tabarin, juggler, mountebank, and quack-salver, who used to frequent the quays of Paris during the early part of the eighteenth century. With the brim of an old felt sombrero, Trewey is able, by dexterous manipulation, to construct every variety of headgear, from the shovel hat of a snuffy-nosed French _abbé_ to the headdress of a Norman peasant girl, to say nothing of the famous _chapeau_ affected by the great Napoleon. It is not these varieties of headgear that astonish the audience, but Trewey’s facial interpretations of the different types of character assumed. His mobile features are an international portrait gallery, and we see represented in the “Tabarin” Irishmen, Scotchmen, Englishmen, Chinamen, and other nationalities. It is a facial pantomime of exceeding skill. The Paris _Figaro_ has described the work of this fantaisiste as “Treweyism,” and _Illustration_ and _La Nature_ never fail to send their staff artists behind the scenes to make sketches of the ombromanist’s latest creations. Robert-Houdin, in his memoirs, says, the excellence of an artist’s work must never flag, but continue to excite and stimulate public curiosity. Trewey realizes this to perfection. He has something unique and novel from week to week to present for the delectation of his audiences. He is the most tireless experimenter I have ever met on any stage, and gets up early and goes to bed late to think out new problems in the _art amusante_. I first became acquainted with this versatile artist in the summer of 1893, when he was playing a phenomenally long engagement in the music halls of London, and heard from his own lips the story of his early struggles and hardships before attaining eminence in his chosen profession. I quote the following, contributed by me to the pages of _Mahatma_, a very clever little periodical devoted to sleight-of-hand, jugglery, and natural magic: “Trewey was born in Angoulême nearly forty-five years ago. His father was a machinist employed at one of the paper mills of the city, and desired the young Trewey to become engineer in the manufactory. An unexpected incident diverted Trewey’s mind from mechanics to jugglery. He was taken one day to the circus at Marseilles, and saw the performance of a conjurer. He was so delighted with the entertainment of the mountebank that he forthwith determined to become a professional prestidigitateur. Finding that he could not enlist the interest of his son in machinery, Trewey _père_ sent him to a Jesuit seminary at Marseilles to study for the priesthood. One day, after he had completed three years at the seminary, he returned home for a short holiday, and refused to return, whereupon his father sent him to work daily at the factory. During his sojourn at the school, Trewey exhibited his skill as an amateur juggler, and took part in the dramatic exhibitions given by the students from time to time. He kept up his practice while at work at the factory, and then one fine summer’s day, at the age of fifteen, ran away from home with a professional acrobat not much older than himself. The two boys gave performances in the _cafés_ of the neighboring towns, and eventually Trewey succeeded in getting an engagement in one of the Marseilles music halls at the munificent salary of a franc a day. He had to give his own juggling entertainment several times a day, and appear in a pantomimic performance every night. In this same company was Plessis, afterwards one of the greatest of the French comedians. Speaking of this period of his interesting career, Trewey said to me: ‘It was the custom in French places of amusement, when I was a young and struggling entertainer, for the spectators to throw money on the stage to a successful actor. I carefully saved the coin obtained in this way until I was able to purchase two grand new costumes. These costumes and the popularity acquired enabled me to obtain an engagement at the Alcazar, the principal place of amusement in Marseilles. [Illustration: FIG. 4.--THE PREACHER IN THE PULPIT.] “‘Other engagements offered themselves in quick succession after that, and I became a favorite performer in all the principal towns in the south of France, where I remained for three or four years. After a while I returned to the strolling branch of the profession, and started anew as the proprietor of a traveling pantomime and vaudeville company. “‘I traveled from one little town to another, playing various _rôles_ including Pierrot and Cassandre, the clown and pantaloon of French pantomime; danced in the _Clodoche_, a grotesque quadrille; and took part in a comedy, in addition to giving my own entertainment. It was a bare living only that was gained in this manner for two years, after which an offer of an engagement came to me from Bordeaux. Here I was most successful, and made a hit with a number of new feats of balancing with bottles, etc., with which I had been busy for a long time perfecting myself. It was at this period I invented the ombromanie. An offer quickly came for an engagement at the _Concert des Ambassadeurs_, in Paris, and my success was complete. I stayed in Paris nine years, and since then traveled all over Europe--in Spain, Germany, Belgium, Austria, Russia, Great Britain, and, as you know, introduced shadowgraphy to the American public in 1893.’ “Trewey’s home in the Rue Rochechouart, Paris, is an interesting place to visit; it is crowded with apparatus and all sorts of new inventions intended for use in his conjuring entertainments. His scrap and memorandum books are unique in themselves and contain hundreds of sketches in water colors of juggling feats either performed by himself or by other artists. Under each drawing is a carefully written description of the particular act. “‘What are you going to do with all this material?’ I once asked him. ‘I may publish a book one of these days,’ he replied, with a merry twinkle of the eye; ‘who knows? I’ve done worse things.’” FRENCH SHADOWS. M. Caran d’Ache, the cartoonist and illustrator, got up a few years ago, at the Theater d’Application, at Paris, a special representation of Chinese shadows which were devised by him, and are so superior to anything that has previously been done in this line that he has been able to call them “French shadows,” in order to distinguish them from similar productions. M. d’Ache takes pleasure in representing the military scenes of the first republic and first empire. He projects upon the screen an entire army, wherein we see the emperor with his staff at different distances amid the ranks. The defiling of the troops is astonishing, and one would think that he was present at a genuine review. A “Vision in the Steppes” is another series of pictures that represent the advent of the Russian army. The shadows entitled the “Return from the Woods” form a masterpiece as a whole, and the figures are so skillfully cut that the celebrities of the day who are passing in the Avenue des Acacias can be recognized. Two amusing specimens of this part of the representation are given in Figs. 2 and 3. These reproductions are much reduced, the real height of the figures being about eighteen inches. Says a writer in _La Nature_, “We were not content to remain in the body of the theater to witness the shadows, but requested M. d’Ache to admit us to his side scenes for the sake of our readers, and to initiate us into the processes of actuating his figures; for, aside from the artistic aspect, there is here a very interesting application of physics. “The silhouettes, after being composed and drawn, are cut out of sheet zinc, which gives them great rigidity. The cutting is a very delicate operation and requires great accuracy. Some figures, such as those of cavalrymen, hussars, and dragoons of the grand army, have apertures in certain parts, and behind these is pasted colored transparent paper. In this way, the black shadows that move along the screen have certain parts in color, such as the plumes of the helmets and the horses’ saddles. [Illustration: FIG. 1.--FRENCH SHADOWS.] “A large number of the zinc silhouettes act through mechanism. At a grand review, to the order ‘Carry arms,’ all the guns are seen to rise in unison. The silhouette is provided with a series of guns properly arranged and mounted upon a rod which is lowered or raised by the action of a lever. “Fig. 1 represents the back of M. d’Ache’s theater. The screen being brilliantly illuminated by an oxyhydrogen lamp, and the light in the body of the theater being turned down, the silhouettes, in passing, project upon the screen a very strong shadow which the spectators perceive, but which is not visible from the side scenes. Each silhouette is taken from a large box by a man who places it in a groove at the bottom of the screen. Four or five operators suffice to keep the shadows succeeding one another without interruption. During the _Epopée_ we witness great combats, the capture of redoubts, and terrible cannonading. Nothing is more amusing than the method of producing the effects of these epic contests. The cannons are provided with little fuses that an operator fires, and, at the same moment, the big drum of the orchestra imitates the noise of the cannonading, and a rattle of large size simulates the sound of the discharge of musketry. As for the smoke that the spectators perceive upon the screen, that is produced by the cigarette of one of the operators, who projects it at the desired place. The light of the shells is obtained by means of a wad of gun cotton lighted and properly projected.” [Illustration: FIGS. 2 AND 3.--FACSIMILES OF TWO SILHOUETTES.]