Linda Stratmann is the author of the Mina Scarletti Mysteries and the Early Casebook of Sherlock Holmes series.
One of the great joys of historical research is discovering untold and fascinating true stories. This is one I found during my reading for Sherlock Holmes and the Cabinet of Wonders, which inspired part of the plot.
On 8 January 1878 an unusual statement was printed on the front page of The Scotsman newspaper. The title was ‘YORICK — WHAT IS IT?’ and the author, announcing ‘challenge accepted’, was one of the most accomplished and famous magicians of his day. John Nevil Maskelyne was a mechanical genius, the constructor of a whist-playing automaton called Psycho. He was the lessee of the Egyptian Hall theatre in Piccadilly, known as ‘England’s Home of Mystery’, where he performed illusions and debunked spirit mediums. He was also, judging by the tone of the piece in The Scotsman, extremely annoyed. His ire was aimed at two men: William Alexander, under whose management a rival of Psycho called Yorick was being exhibited, and the conjuror Boz who took the stage.
After briefly holding the licence of the York Hotel in Weston-super-Mare, Alexander had decided on a new career, promoting conjurors and illusionists. It is not known what previous experience he might have had, but he brought to his profession the ability to manufacture glowing endorsements, shameless theft of other men’s material, and a complete ignorance of the laws of libel.
‘Boz’ was born William Arthur Weston, in Brighton, in 1847. His father was a gunsmith and his mother a dyer. In common with many youthful enthusiasts of the art of conjuring, he had become fascinated with the American Davenport Brothers who toured England in 1864-5, bringing with them a miraculous cabinet. When the brothers were securely tied in the cabinet, all kinds of manifestations were produced, both musical and visual, which many onlookers believed to be the work of spirits. Weston, convinced that their act was trickery, determined to work out how it was done. He chanced to meet George William Buck, a skilled and successful professional conjurer born in 1836, who worked under the name Herr Dobler. The two discovered a mutual interest and pooled their information. After collaborating to perform an exposé of the Davenports’ methods, Dobler hired Weston as his assistant, and they went on tour. In 1866, however, Weston’s father died, and he was obliged to return to Brighton and the trade of dyeing. The flame of ambition still burned, and Weston hoped for an opportunity to take to the stage again.
This eventually came about when he met William Alexander, who by 1875 was managing the career of Herr Dobler. Coincidentally, Alexander had just spotted a new money-spinner, and all he needed was a man with some stage experience who could play a part and was happy to comply with his unusual promotional methods. He terminated his arrangement with Dobler and engaged Weston, who was now advertised as ‘Boz’.
Before long, posters were appearing under the heading ‘Alexander’s Sensations’, advertising Boz and the astonishing Yorick, a whist-playing automaton. The glowing reviews of this extraordinary device were probably written either by Alexander or Weston. Herr Dobler was especially shocked to see that the advertisements were using his playbills and lithographs and were posted in towns where he was appearing. Worse still, Weston was now claiming that he alone had devised the method of exposing the Davenports, and taught it to Dobler, who had been profiting ever since from his work. When Dobler objected, he was accused of being an impostor, taking the name and reputation of another man, a conjuror named Ludwig Dobler who had died in 1864.
Dobler sued both Alexander and Weston for libel and they made a counterclaim against him. The case came before the Bristol assizes in July 1877, where Dobler’s counsel pointed out that English conjurors often performed under foreign names to enhance their attractiveness, ‘for foreigners were supposed to be more clever than English people.’ The case was stopped with the agreement that the imputations would be withdrawn on both sides, and the offensive advertisements not repeated.
Boz and Alexander had suffered little from this spat. They continued their career as before, the advertisements and reviews becoming even more exuberant, the claims more fantastical, and the audiences larger. Their confidence was misplaced, since they had reckoned without John Nevil Maskelyne.
Maskelyne, born in 1839, had been apprenticed to a watchmaker. He became fascinated by stage illusions and seances when he was asked to repair a mysterious mechanical device. The owner was unusually coy about describing its function, and Maskelyne realised that it was used by mediums to fake spirit rapping. After he and his friend George Cooke successfully replicated the Davenport Brothers’ act without the aid of spirits, they commenced a career as conjurers and illusionists and first appeared at the Egyptian Hall in 1873.
Maskelyne had spent more than two years devising and assembling his whist-playing automaton Psycho, the workings of which were a closely guarded secret. He was therefore highly displeased to see Alexander’s advertisements claiming that the young pretender Yorick, which as illustrated on a handbill appeared identical to Psycho, was superior in both construction and operation. However, he had strong suspicions that Yorick, whatever wonders it might perform, was not an automaton.
Yorick and Boz had commenced their glittering career early in 1877 at Weston-super-Mare. Yorick, billed as ‘the most perfect automatic clairvoyant in the world’ was said not only to play whist but also perform mental arithmetic, read, write and spell. It could even, so it was claimed, submit to the test of a naked sword being passed through its body in four distinct places, and being taken to pieces in full view of the audience. There is no evidence that these tests were ever applied.
Yorick moved on to Bristol, the advertisements now boldly claiming that Psycho had been superseded. The tour was in full flow, with bookings pouring in: Liverpool, Manchester and Leicester were to follow.
It was during the Edinburgh appearances in December 1877 that Maskelyne’s patience expired. He and Cooke published newspaper announcements cautioning the public against a ‘gross imposition’ by conjurors exhibiting ‘a trick consisting of a child concealed in an Octagon Box about 24 inches wide and 12 inches deep upon which the bust of a figure is placed’. It was the child, not machinery, that caused the figure to move. Maskelyne did not mind sincere imitations but objected to crude copies said to be superior to Psycho, in an attempt to injure his hard-earned reputation. At the Egyptian Hall, members of the audience were invited to come up onto the stage and examine the interior of Psycho and the box on which it sat, but, he said, the exhibitors of ‘spurious imitations’ could allow no-one to examine theirs.
On 4 January, The Scotsman published Alexander’s response. He claimed that audience members were permitted to examine Yorick, which he insisted was a genuine automaton on the same principle as Psycho. He challenged Maskelyne and Cooke, who he now alleged were simply the exhibitors of a figure made by another man named Clark [sic], to disprove his claims. The wager was worth £100, the loser to hand this sum to the Edinburgh Infirmary.
Maskelyne eagerly accepted the challenge in his statement of 8 January. He had always acknowledged that a friend of his called Clarke had assisted with the theory and early development of Psycho, but he alone had built the mechanism. Crucially, he now revealed the whole of Yorick’s secret. For the last two years, copies of Psycho had been made and sold in London. Although claimed to be genuine automata, they were designed so that their movements could be controlled by a child concealed in the apparatus. Mr Alexander had purchased one and engaged a little boy to work it, and Mr Weston, as Boz, to present it to the public. It was then advertised as the most wonderful automaton in the world, costing £1,000 to construct. During the performance, Boz told his audience that Yorick operated on the same principle as Psycho but was superior. He even claimed that he was the inventor and Mr Maskelyne the imitator.
Maskelyne now issued a devastating counterchallenge. He proposed to send a representative to Edinburgh who would spare no labour or expense to prove that he had just cause for his caution to the public. He offered to place £200 with a committee of Edinburgh gentlemen, to be paid to the infirmary if his statement was shown to be untrue. If it was true, then Mr Alexander was to pay £100 to the infirmary. The loser of the wager was to pay all the expenses of obtaining the evidence and advertising the result in The Scotsman.
William Alexander now knew that the man he had taunted was willing to do everything in his considerable power to defend his reputation. Maskelyne repeated his challenge, which was never accepted.
Alexander continued to expand his operation. He obtained a second figure worked by a child, which he presented as the original Yorick. In February 1878 he had a new sensation to announce. Extraordinarily, he had partnered again with Herr Dobler — the same man who had previously sued him for libel — who would be appearing with a marvellous automaton, similar to Psycho, dressed as a king and called Rex. This association did not last long. Dobler returned to his former act and sued Alexander for unpaid wages.
The performances of Boz and Yorick continued, the advertisements now carefully avoiding libel, but the secret was out, and bookings dried up before the end of 1878.
The magical career of Arthur Weston was in decline. On 1 April 1880, in Dunfermline where he had an engagement as ‘Signor Boz’, he was found dead in his lodgings. He had tied a piece of wetted silk (variously described as a handkerchief or a cravat) about his neck, and twisted it tightly with a poker, thus garrotting himself, a highly unusual form of suicide. He was thirty-three years of age and left a widow and two children.
Herr Dobler continued to perform as a popular and respected conjuror. He died in 1904. William Alexander remains an obscure figure. It is to be hoped that he decided to abandon his dubious career as a promoter of talent.
Sources
Family records on Ancestry.co.uk
White Magic: The Story of Maskelynes by Jasper Maskelyne
Newspaper reports and advertisements, principally The Scotsman and the Era*.
Also the Western Daily Press and Glasgow Evening Citizen.
*Regarding the Era’s report of the libel trial, on Sunday, 5 August 1877 p. 4, titled ‘Rival Conjurers’. Some statements are untrue, when checked against other records. Weston’s father was not a dyer but a journeyman gunsmith and William Alexander was licensee of the York Hotel under that name.
