Lost History – The Magical Night the Kremlin Bells Chimed

For those who deal in magic, the truth should never prevent a good story. Perhaps that is why accounts of Harold Houdini’s life are so obscure and contradictory. The maestro magician par excellence understood that his legacy would be reduced by stultifying facts but enhanced by fascinating fiction. The best case of a beguiling fiction eclipsing an unenlightening fact is the story of the night when Houdini reputedly made the Kremlin bells chime after two decades of silence.

The rumour owes its modern notoriety to an anecdote Orson Welles hypnotically adumbrated on the BBC programme, Sketch Book, in 1955. That loquacious colossus of Hollywood claimed the “escape king” Houdini was his first instructor in magic, lending Welles a certain legitimacy in his role as a relayer of hearsay. During the broadcast, he describes Houdini as an “expert in miracles” before he ventures to tell his favourite Houdini legend:

In 1902, Houdini visited Russia and gave a historic display of his magical skills at a private event attended by the Tsar and his extended family. Houdini asked his illustrious audience to write on tiny scraps of paper their impossible provocations for him to perform from a small stage beside a wide window looking out onto a snow-quilted Red Square. Of course, Houdini had arranged it so he would receive the challenge of his choice (one he had been planning for months in advance). The pile of audience requests was brought to Houdini, and he picked the following dare: ring the decommissioned Kremlin bells.

The Kremlin bells’ ringing may not sound like an impossible feat for a world-class magician, but in those times the old bells had hung silent for at least twenty years after one suddenly fell on a congregation below, killing dozens and endangering the Tsar. As a result, their clappers and ropes were removed, turning them into solemn monuments to Moscow’s muted civic chime.

Houdini walked over to the window, closed his eyes, and raised his hand towards the Kremlin’s bleak and soundless belfry. A theatrical pause was dutifully indulged before a quiet clang grew into a loud and continuous ring. The imperial audience were astonished, and Houdini was enthusiastically applauded.

After Welles describes the appearance of Houdini’s trick, he goes on to explain how Houdini did it, adding that it is not customary for a magician to betray the trickery of their trade, “but as this trick is unlikely to be repeated”, it is worth bequeathing to history. According to Welles’s anecdote, when Houdini raised his hand, his wife, who was stood at a hotel window with a view of both the performance and the bell tower, accurately fired a high-powered air gun several times at the muted peal. The telling is a charming extract from the secret chronicle of Houdini’s mysterious life.

Unfortunately, it almost certainly never happened.

Firstly, there are numerous and conflicting versions of Houdini’s trip to Russia and his reception with the royal family. Some say he did not perform for the Tsar but the Romanovs in St Petersburg. Other sources say Houdini performed in Moscow, but that the bell trick never happened. However, the best sources tell the story in its full splendour.

Very little is known of Houdini’s actual time in Russia, and few contemporary newspapers have survived. The tale accorded to us by raconteurs like Welles is not a parable – it is divested of veracity. Its prettier part is emphasised, and its slower moments are sped up. After hearing this enchanting narrative, we are left with a simple feeling of delight – otiose delight. It can remind readers that the first utility of fiction is often forgotten. The Elizabethan statesmen and philosopher, Francis Bacon, argued that humankind reads for three primary reasons: to adorn our empty minds as we would an unfurnished room, to know how best to act in the future by learning past deeds; and lastly, for delight. Delight appears to be the most powerful compulsion to read as well as to create. Inadvertently, this meaningless and mesmerising reminiscence of Harold Houdini reveals the true meaning of fiction.