Thirty-Four

saint-gervais, france, 1860

Under the moonlit sky, the shadow creeping slowly across the roof might have been mistaken for a man. But this man was smaller than most—and had wings.

Jean Eugène Robert-­Houdin wondered if his years of creating illusions had played with his mind. Was the belief that he had brought a stone gargoyle to life some form of insanity? The creature seemed so real! But perhaps it was an illusion. He, of all people, knew the power of illusions. They convinced the mind that the impossible was true. This could be an elaborate hoax constructed to fool him. Yes! That must have been what was going on, for what other explanation could there be?

It took him several days to revise his opinion. There was no illusion on earth that could explain the living, breathing creature who looked to him for answers he didn’t have. Nothing except for the possibility that the alchemy book he’d read from contained real magic.

His wife had a strong constitution, so Robert-­Houdin considered sharing the secret with her. But he knew what she would do. She would say it was the work of the Devil and send the gargoyle away. But Robert-­Houdin knew the creature was no devil. He was as innocent as his own children upon their birth.

The creature did not cry like a baby, but in other ways he was much like a child. He craved food and attention, as all newborns did.

However, unlike a newborn, the gargoyle spoke some Latin and possessed an acute intelligence; though Robert-­Houdin’s Latin was poor, that much was clear. It was impossible to deny the creature’s existence, nor would he relegate him to a freak show. He would raise the creature as his own flesh and blood. Was it not his own work that had brought the gargoyle to life?

But calling him “creature” wouldn’t do.

“Dorian,” Robert-­Houdin said. “I will call you Dorian.”

To his family, it appeared that Jean Eugène Robert-­Houdin isolated himself as he worked in secrecy on the greatest illusion of his career. Nobody was allowed to enter his studio. No one. Under any circumstances. If anyone dared defy him, they would be written out of his will.

Needless to say, they all obeyed.

In the solitude of his studio, the old magician taught Dorian, whom he came to think of as Dorian Robert-­Houdin. Dorian quickly picked up several additional languages, and also excelled at stage magic.

Unlike most men who worked in seclusion, Jean Eugène Robert-­Houdin didn’t forget to eat. If anything, his family observed that his appetite doubled, perhaps even tripled, in size. On top of that, he became a picky eater, insisting on the highest-quality foods.

In truth, Robert-­Houdin’s appetite lessened as he came to grips with the import of what he’d done, and he cared not what he ate. It was Dorian who had a voracious appetite and who craved superior meals. When not given the finest foods, he would sneak out at night to obtain them himself. It wouldn’t do to have Dorian seen, so Robert-­Houdin made sure to bring the gargoyle his favorite foods.

In this way, the gargoyle’s unique personality became apparent, convincing Robert-­Houdin that Dorian was as much a man as any other. Robert-­Houdin was happy that some of Dorian’s preferences mimicked his own. Like his father—which is how Dorian came to think of the man who had given him life—Dorian devoured great books. Authors like Flaubert, Baudelaire, Molière, and Dumas opened up a whole new world to him. He grew into a proper French gentleman.