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| Dr. Philippe, Houdini's rival in Russia |
Extract from our forthcoming historical novel now tentatively titled Houdini Unbound. Harry meets with Dr. Philippe, a French charlatan who at the moment is the darling of the Russian Imperial Court, but in reality is a spy working for the notorious Count von Plehve.
After a demonstration of his renowned healing powers, Nicholas and Alexandra had immediately beseeched the Frenchman to come to Russia as their spiritual guide. So by the time Harry met him, Philippe had long been ensconced in Tsarskoie Selo, in a splendid domed pavilion with a circular center hall and a panoramic view of the royal park.
Philippe greeted Harry at the front entrance, shunting him into the reception room by saying jauntily, “Good to see you again. This way or else you’ll go through the looking glass!”
They sat in a window seat. Philippe poured drinks - wine for himself and a glass of mineral water for Harry. Jovial and friendly, round faced and pudgy, he sported a mustache that resembled the wingspread of a condor. He offered Harry a French cigarette. Harry refused. His eyes were drawn to the small triangular bag around Philippe’s neck. The Frenchman fingered the bag with his right hand.
“I keep a little pill here,” Philippe said, tapping the bag meaningfully while his other hand lazily withdrew the cigarette case. The misdirection was so natural Harry did not notice the tiny clear tablet that slid soundlessly from the case into his mineral water.
“My teacher, Prof. Charcot, gave it to me, with instructions to take it only in an emergency. So far I have never had to do so,” he said with a half smile, as he saw Harry drink his water. “I frankly believe he was using the power of suggestion to help me get through dire times.”
“The power of suggestion?”
“Oh yes. Often our inner state mirrors our physical reality. Do you know much about medicine?”
“No, not really. My brother is a doctor in New York.”
“It is as much an art as a science.”
“I have heard from Bess that you sometimes create visions?”
“Ah, yes - this is mesmerism. This was Charcot’s specialty. It is a new branch of medicine - a certain state induced by music, or by words, or by smells and sounds, sometimes by a blinking or shining object. The subject becomes very calm and relaxed, receptive, nearly asleep. It is an ideal state for the medical practitioner, especially in treating conditions like hysteria or traumas. It’s quite useful in helping women get pregnant, because women can become emotionally unbalanced easily. Mesmerism helps them get back to normal.”
“But visions?”
“They can seem very real, even if only suggestions. It amplifies the healing quality. This was the case with your wife.”
“Do you believe she is emotionally unbalanced?”
“I know her own mother was opposed to your marriage. This can create an emotional blockage that becomes chemical, if you want to put it that way. And this internal imbalance can influence pregnancy.”
Harry cursed his sketchy scientific education. All the chemistry he knew concerned liquids, smokes and flammables used in magic tricks and stagecraft. He knew a great deal of anatomy and physiology for practical use, like acrobatics, but he knew virtually nothing about pregnancy.
“I’ve also heard you have power over the elements.” Philippe relaxed at this point and got very quiet, sensing Harry’s befuddlement. He did not know why he had felt so wary of this witling.
Talking a deep breath, he said finally, “This is something else. I cannot really explain it. It is something I have had since I was a child. Sometimes you just know things about nature, or about people. Has this never happened to you?”
“I suppose it has. Can you mesmerize me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s try.”
“But why?”
“I want to experience it. Maybe to see visions, so I can feel what Bess was feeling.”
Philippe thought for a moment. This was working out even better than he had expected. “All right, that’s a good reason, I suppose. Let’s try.”
Philippe led Harry to the circular central hall and pulled the blinds.
Both sat facing each other in comfortable chairs. From his pocket Philippe took a silver coin fixed to a chain. Holding the chain in his fingers, he let the coin swing back and forth in an arc.
“Relax. Let your eyes be soft as they follow the silver coin. Loosen your muscles and joints and let your whole body sink into the chair. Let your mind be calm. Body loose. Mind calm. Eyes soft. Following the silver light….”
Harry relaxed. His eyes went soft and heavy and his ears followed Philippe’s sultry voice.
A subtle, sweet scent began to filter into the room. After a time his head began to swim and the circular walls of the pavilion appeared to turn: Harry found himself right in the middle of a battlefield. Cannon fire sounded from fortified ramparts on his left. Regiments of light horse cavalry in full battle dress charged on his right. He smelled gunpowder and horses and heard hoofbeats. Clouds of smoke appeared in the distance. He smelled burning fires.
Harry heard a woman’s voice call his name.
“Who is calling?” he asked drowsily.
“Katarina … Sophia Frederika … come to warn you and your friends. Evil forces seek to influence the Tsar. Russia will be protected as long as Dr. Philippe is alive. Warn them, Houdini, warn them…”
When Harry awoke he was lying on silk sheets in one of Philippe’s guest rooms. A maid brought him some strong tea, which he drank in two swallows. Philippe entered the room and took his pulse. Harry just looked at him blankly.
“You’re going to be fine,” Philippe said.
“I was … I was in a war. I thought I was going to die. I heard horses. There were fires burning…. I smelled smoke. And voices. I heard voices.”
“Shh. Relax. Sleep a little more.”
“A woman’s voice. She was warning me….”
“Rest now, rest. You’ve seen the crack between the worlds. You’re going to be fine….”
Philippe put Harry back to sleep like he was a little child. The French sorcerer smiled at the thought that von Plehve was actually threatened by this simple fellow.
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