———————————————————————
It will be seen that Hartz, in his account of himself, does not err on the side of excessive modesty, but there was much more foundation for his self-sung praises than there is in the case of many equally laudatory announcements.
Mr Harry Vivian, above named, is the same gentleman who is elsewhere referred to under his proper name of H. B. Lodge. Before settling down to commercial life, Mr Lodge toured with Hartz for some months, and laid the foundation of a lifelong friendship with him. It is painful to have to confess that Mr Harry Vivian’s brilliant performances in New York were mythical.
In the year 1867, Hartz, accompanied by his younger brother, Augustus, who had for some time as-sisted him in various capacities, migrated to America. They jointly established, in The Broadway, New York, a depot for the sale of conjuring apparatus, and speedily obtained a high reputation for the excellence of their manufactures. In his apparatus as in his manipulations, Hartz never would tolerate poor work. He charged high prices, but they were obtained without difficulty ; each pur-chaser knowing that the goods supplied to him, whatever they might be, were sure to be the best of their particular kind.
Meanwhile Hartz continued to perform, and with his usual success. The greater part of his effects were still for many years electrical, involving the use of complicated and cumbrous apparatus, but during convalescence after a long illness, contracted by travelling in Jamaica in the rainy season, he turned his attention to the simplification of his methods, and the ultimate result was the substitution of two moderate-sized cases of apparatus for the two tons of stage luggage which had previously ac-companied him on his journeys. One of the most material improvements was the invention of the
mechanical hook to be described in the course of these pages, which produced, in a simpler and more certain manner, the more important magical effects previously obtained by the aid of electric-ity.
The date of the new departure, above mentioned, may be put at about 1877. About the same time Hartz, as part of his general scheme for producing a maximum of effect with a minimum of appara-tus, conceived the idea of developing the well-worn trick of the Inexhaustible Hat into a modern miracle, as, in its later form, his Devil of a Hat really became. His aim was to develop the trick in two directions; first, to enormously increase the quantity of the articles, produced; and secondly, to produce them under more difficult conditions, namely, on a stage so bare that it afforded apparently no cover for even the smallest object.
A minute explanation of this unique trick will be given in the course of these pages.
A popular entertainer nowadays is usually more or less of a globe-trotter, and Hartz was no excep-tion to the rule. Of his many journeyings in America I have no record, but after his return to Eng-land, in 1883, he toured largely, visiting not only the leading English towns and the Channel Islands, but the chief cities of France, Spain, Holland, Belgium, Germany, Denmark, Norway and Sweden. He also visited Tunis and Algiers.
His latest foreign tour, commencing in November 1901, and lasting till August of the following year, comprised visits to Amsterdam, Paris, Marseilles, Bordeaux, Lyons, St Etienne, Dijon, Ge-neva, Lausanne, Lucerne, Zurich, Berne and Munich. The latter part of 1902 was spent in London, where he filled engagements at the Paragon, the Croydon Palace, and the Cambridge Theatre of Va-rieties. In December of that year he started for what proved to be his last English tour, commencing at Bristol, and visiting Hanley, Belfast (the scene of some of his earliest triumphs), Barrow-in-Fur-ness, Liverpool and Coatbridge, returning to London in February 1903. On the 28th of that month he gave a trial performance at the Palace Theatre. This would in due course have been followed by a regular engagement, but he was not destined to perform again. On the 12th of March he was taken ill, and grew rapidly worse, his malady proving to be Bright’s disease. He died on the 29th of June following, at Peckham, and was interred at Tooting Cemetery on the 4th July.
The many honours Hartz received from royal and other distinguished personages bear testimony to the effect produced by his performances. From President Diaz, in 1877, he received the Mexican Order of Merit; from the King of Spain, for a performance at Madrid in March 1885, a diamond crown pin, taken by His Majesty from his own cravat, and with his hands placed in Hartz’s coat, and from the Bey of Tunis in April 1885, a diamond star. On 30th August 1886, at Bernstorff Castle, Copenhagen, he performed before the King of Denmark and the King of Greece, and received from each of them a gold medal in commemoration of the event. In the following month a third gold medal was presented to him by the Danish students at Copenhagen, amongst whom his perform-ances always created an extraordinary amount of enthusiasm. In 1887 he received two more medals from royal hands, one in April from the King of Saxony, and one in May from the King of Holland.
At Brussels, in 1884, he was engaged to give a private performance before the friends of the late Count Merode. The Count thought the amount demanded (500 francs) exorbitant, and was not too favourably disposed towards the magician. On seeing the performance, however, he was so
de-lighted with it that he voluntarily added to the fee a diamond pin of far greater value. This, in view of its history, was one of Hartz’s most cherished possessions.
My own acquaintance with Hartz dated from 1883, in which year he returned to England from America, and thenceforth made this country his headquarters. For my introduction to him I was in-debted to Mr. H. B. Lodge, of Huddersfield (the “Harry Vivian” of the Leicester programme); him-self a clever amateur conjurer and musical entertainer, but best known in connection with his sensational exposure, in October 1876, of the sham medium, the “Reverend” Dr Monck.
Hartz was a man who did not easily make friends, but devotion to magic formed a bond of union be-tween him and myself, and almost from our first acquaintance he discussed his many inventions with the utmost freedom; an evening’s chat with him being usually followed, the next day, by some hours spent in making notes of his revelations. He gave me, from the first, full leave to make per-sonal use of any of his secrets, only stipulating that I should not disclose them to any one else with-out his permission. At a later date (July 1901) he generously removed this restriction, save as to the Devil of a Hat, and some half-dozen other tricks which he thought it possible that he might himself again perform publicly.
I have elsewhere called Hartz “a conjurer for conjurers,” and I know no phrase which more pre-cisely indicates, so far at any rate as his later days are concerned, at once his strength and his weak-ness. He was a great conjurer, but a poor showman. He had neither the presence, the voice, nor (be it said in a whisper) the genial impudence which are half the stock-in-trade of the successful enter-tainer. Like the proverbial Scotchman, he “joked with difficulty.” His “patter” had a laboured air, and he lacked that easy bonhomie which at once puts David Devant or Howard Thurston on good terms with his audience.
On the other hand, the working of his tricks, from a technical point of view, was as perfect as it was possible to make it. He was primarily an “apparatus” conjurer, and in general mastery of sleight-of-hand he was surpassed by many performers of far less note, but his manipulation of a given trick left nothing to be desired. He possessed that most valuable of artistic qualities, “an infinite capacity for taking pains.” And as a consequence, his nerve was unfailing. He was never haunted by the dread of a slip, because he never made one. But, popular though he was, his work was in one sense too good for the public. An expert would appreciate the severe conditions which he imposed-upon himself; the ingenuity of his contrivances and the neatness of his manipulation. But an ordinary audience is not composed of experts, and a conjurer who habitually goes out of his way to make his tricks more difficult is like the over-conscientious actor who blacked himself all over when he played Othello. He may find his reward in an inner sense of artistic completness, but the public look only at the broad effect produced, and neither recognise nor care for the fact that the performer has produced it (as was the case with Hartz) in the teeth of a number of self-created difficulties.
His great Hat Trick, to be presently described, is a forcible illustration of this.