[1] He transformed magic from a pastime for the lower classes, seen at fairs, to an entertainment for the wealthy, which he offered in a theatre opened in Paris, a legacy preserved by the tradition of modern magicians performing in tails.

When he got home and opened the wrapping, instead of the Berthoud books, what appeared before his eyes was a two-volume set on magic called Scientific Amusements.

[3] He paid ten francs for a series of lessons from a man named Maous from Blois who was a podiatrist but also entertained at fairs and parties doing magic.

[3] Much of what we know about Robert-Houdin comes from his memoirs—and his writings were meant more to entertain than to chronicle, rendering it difficult to separate fact from fiction.

Robert-Houdin would have readers believe that a major turning point in his life came when he became apprenticed to the magician Edmund De Grisi, Count's son and better known as Torrini.

From there, he built his own mechanical figures, like a singing bird, a dancer on a tightrope, and an automaton doing the cups and balls.

At her death, having three young children to take care of, he remarried in August to Françoise Marguerite Olympe Braconnier, a woman ten years younger,[2][3] who soon took over the household.

[2] The income from the shop and his new inventions gave him enough money to experiment on new tricks using glass apparatus that would be (or at least appear to be) free of trickery.

[3] He obtained financial backing from Count de l'Escalopier, who fronted him[3] the 15,000 francs[2] to turn his vision into reality.

Tasteful drapes were hung, chic candelabras were placed throughout, and the stage furniture was set in the style of Louis XV.

Instead of admitting defeat, Robert-Houdin, irked at the friend's effrontery, used this insult to regain his courage, and persevered in giving the show a long run at his little theatre.

Le Charivari and L'Illustration both said that his mechanical marvels and artistic magic were comparable to those of his predecessors like Philippe and Bartolomeo Bosco.

So he came upon the idea of doing a two-person mind-reading act, concocting a silly story about how his son Émile had created a game of hot and cold that resulted in Robert-Houdin using it for the stage.

He would even set the bell off to the side and remain silent, and his son still described every object handed to his father.

[5] Even then, the audiences were not entirely convinced; they tried to trip up Émile by bringing in books written in Greek, or odd tools such as a thread counter.

"If one has a living person inhale this liquid when it is at its highest degree of concentration, the body of the patient for a few moments becomes as light as a balloon," Robert-Houdin claimed.

In reality, the vial was empty, with the odour being produced by his son Émile pouring real ether on a hot iron shovel.

"[5] This brought letters of protest against Robert-Houdin, thinking he was putting his son's health in jeopardy, although the ether had nothing to do with the trick.

He waved his wand again, and the orange split open into four sections, revealing a white material of sorts inside of it.

The butterflies grabbed the end of the corner of the white cloth and spread it open, revealing the spectator's handkerchief.

Robert-Houdin's inventions were pirated by his trusted mechanic Le Grand, who was arrested for making and selling duplicate illusions.

[3] Many of those illusions fell into the hands of his competitors, such as John Henry Anderson, Robin, Robert Heller, and Compars Herrmann.

[7] The magical mission began with an informal show at the Bab Azoun Theatre in Algeria, where he would give performances twice weekly.

Maintenant vous êtes plus faible qu'une femme ; essayez de soulever la boîte."

Instead, he screamed in pain, as Robert-Houdin had rigged the box to give the Arabian an electrical shock if he tried to rip the handles off.

[2] "The blow was struck", Robert-Houdin said, "...henceforth the interpreters and all those who had dealings with the Arabs received orders to make them understand that my pretended miracles were only the result of skill, inspired and guided by an art called prestidigitation, in no way connected with sorcery".

[7] After his mission in Algeria was completed, Robert-Houdin gave his last public performance at the Grand Théâtre in Marseille, then returned to his home in Saint-Gervais, near his native Blois, where he wrote his memoirs, Confidences d'un Prestidigitateur.

[9][10] Several of Robert-Houdin's apparatuses, including automata and mystery clocks, reside in David Copperfield's private museum.

In his book Hiding the Elephant, Jim Steinmeyer said that every magician of the 20th century was "haunted" by Robert-Houdin, "... who cast an enormous shadow over their generation".

Many cities have streets that bear his name: Blois, Bourges, Caen, Paris (11th), Saint-Étienne, and Saint-Gervais-la-Forêt in France; Monticiano in Siena, Italy; and others.