OUR MAGIC

David Devant
(1868-1941)
OUR MAGIC
The Art in Magic
The Theory of Magic
The Practice of Magic

BY
NEVIL MASKELYNE
AND
DAVID DEVANT

SECOND EDITION

EDITED BY
PAUL FLEMING, PH.D.
WITH 86 DRAWINGS BY
JEANNE McLAVY

FLEMING BOOK COMPANY

BERKELEY HEIGHTS, NEW JERSEY
1946
Second Edition, Revised and Enlarged. Copyright,
1946, by Paul Fleming Gemmill. This Edition is
Published by Arrangement with E. P. Dutton and
Company and George Routledge and Sons, Ltd.,
Owners of the Original Copyright. All Rights
Reserved.

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

OUR MAGIC
IS VOLUME THREE OF
THE FLEMING MAGIC CLASSIC SERIES
The end of all magic is to feed with mystery
the human mind, which dearly loves mystery.
—H arry K ellar
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
In writing this book, we have fulfilled a purpose that has long been
held in view, viz.:—the production of a work which would present
our art in a truer light than is ordinarily shed upon it by textbooks
and treatises. We have long been impressed by the fact that, unlike
other technical subjects, magic has received scarcely any attention
upon its theoretical side; but has been allowed to drift along the
course of progress as best it might, unaided by the advantages that
order and system could bestow. In any other calling, technical or
artistic, the groundwork of the subject, invariably and as a matter of
course, receives due attention on the part of those who follow that
calling. Those who teach and those who study alike, are well aware
that unless the fundamental principles—the theory of their subject-
are properly understood, there can be no chance of gaining any real
knowledge such as an expert must possess. Then, since magic com­
bines both art and science, the folly that it can be studied apart from
its theory, its very constitution, is too obvious to require comment.
Therefore, in this book, we have attempted the task of setting before
the reader a plain and straightforward statement of the facts, prin­
ciples, and reasoning essential to a proper understanding of our sub­
ject, so far as our ability will allow.
We do not for a moment suggest that what we have written herein
represents the last word to be said concerning magic. On the con­
trary, we are well aware that our book is but the commencement of
a new departure which, we hope, may lead to the full elucidation
of our subject, in every particular. The ramifications and extensions
of knowledge connected with magic are so vast in their scope that no
single treatise can possibly include all that a skilled magician ought
to know. Consequently, we can claim no more than the production
of a book which, in our opinion, serves to indicate, rather than to ex­
haust, the manifold topics associated with the art, science, and prac­
tice of magic.
One notable feature of this work, which should, we believe, serve
to prove the faith that is in us, consists in our unhesitating dis­
closure of original devices, and the modus operandi of original ex­
periments in magic. So far from feeling any reluctance toward letting
the general public into the secrets of our procedure, we are most
[vii]
viii OUR MAGIC
anxious to educate the public in such matters, in order that a proper
understanding of our art may be disseminated among its votaries and
patrons. The point is this. Tricks and dodges are of comparatively
small importance in the art of magic. At the utmost, they display
inventive ability, but nothing more. The effect—and the effect
alone—produced by the use of such inventions, is the consideration
of real importance.
For proof of this, we need only point out one well known fact,
viz.:—that the very best audience a skilled magician can have is one
composed entirely of magicians. The reason for this should be self-
evident. An audience of magical experts is bound to see the per­
former’s feats in a proper light. Such an audience will very seldom
be perplexed by what is exhibited, and will never attach great im­
portance to “how it is done.” Every member of such an audience will
have his mind engrossed almost exclusively in noting the art with
which the performer uses devices, known or unknown, to produce
an intended effect. If his art is meritorious, the expert spectators will
appreciate the performance highly, no matter how old, how new,
how ingenious, or how simple may be the technical devices em­
ployed.
It will be difficult, we fear, to bring the general public to that
standpoint. The average man is so firmly impressed with the notion
that magic consists merely in puzzles offered for solution, challenges
to the spectator’s acuteness, that many years must elapse before that
erroneous idea can be dispelled. Some day, however, we hope that
even the man in the street will have learned the fact that so-called
“secrets” are to the magician little more than are, to the actor, the
wigs, grease-paints and other “make-up” with which he prepares
himself for appearance before the public. The art of the magician,
like that of the actor, depends upon matters far higher than mere
appliances and processes. Just as the actor, in the exercise of his art,
employs certain means for making himself resemble the character he
represents, so the magician employs devices essential to the guise in
which he appears. As it happens, the magician’s aids in this respect are
necessarily more recondite than those of the actor. Owing to this
fact, there has arisen the mistaken impression that the magician’s art
begins and ends in the devices he employs—whereas, in fact, those
devices are merely his working tools. His art does not consist in the
things he uses, nor in the trade secrets and technical processes he has
at command, but in the employment of those facilities with adequate
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION ix
efficiency. It consists in what he does with the things he uses, not in
those things themselves. In the hands of a skilled magician, a magical
experiment becomes something vastly different from what it would
be if conducted by a novice. That needs no argument whatsoever.
And it is just in that very difference that the art of magic is comprised.
Those who hold the view that the tools of magic are synonymous with
the art of magic do great injustice to the magician and to his art alike.
Undoubtedly, we must admit that great progress in the art has
been made during recent years. Both in artistry and in social standing
the modern magician stands upon a plane far higher than that
occupied by his predecessors of two or three generations ago. The
average magician of today has been educated at a public school, and
is socially qualified to rank with members of any other profession.
He knows some Latin, and perhaps a trifle of Greek; and on occasion
can speak French without giving his audience the cold shivers. So
far as they go, these facts are eminently satisfactory, but more is
requisite for the equipment of an artist in magic. The young gentle­
men who constitute the vast bulk of rising magicians have not yet
shaken themselves free from the trammels with which their less
favored predecessors were hampered. They have not, as a rule,
learned to understand the art of magic as it really is, nor to recognize
the nature of its constitution. In so far as they are true artists, they
depend upon their instinctive leaning toward refinement and appro­
priate procedure. They go to work the right way because they feel
it to be the right—not because they know it to be right. As for ex­
plaining why any particular course of action is right, that is beyond
the powers of almost any among them. This is where the rising gen­
eration lacks understanding, the simple reason being a lack of proper
training in the theory and constitution of the art they profess.
We hope this present book may serve, at least, to provide a clue,
by which those who blindly grope in the ancient labyrinth which
they falsely regard as “the art of magic,’’ may be led to a stand­
point from which clearer views can be gained.
N. M.
D. D.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
The names“Maskelyne” and “Devant” are written indelibly on the
pages of magical history. It was John Nevil Maskelyne who, for almost
a half-century, was famous as the senior partner of “England’s Home
of Mystery,” which was housed first in Egyptian Hall and later in
St. George’s Hall, both in London. His elder son Nevil, co-author
of Our Magic, spent some forty years in his father’s undertaking
“as conjurer, inventor, dramatist, actor, and director. Nevil Maske­
lyne did not pretend to be a conjurer in the ordinary sense of the
word, but for the last twenty years of his life he labored with success
to establish magic as a recognized art and to raise the status of the
magician in public estimation.” He originated a number of impor­
1
tant stage illusions, and is credited with the invention of the great
suspension feat which Kellar later presented in America under the
title, The Levitation of Princess Karnac.
I can think of no greater tribute that could be paid the memory
of David Devant than to say that for many years he held in England
a position comparable to that occupied in the United States by the
famous Harry Kellar. Each was the recognized leader of magic in his
own country. Season after season, Mr. Devant was the feature attrac­
tion of the Home of Mystery, and for a decade or so he was John
Nevil Maskelyne’s partner in the enterprise. “Devant was, in many
ways, in a class by himself,” says one writer. “In fact, I do not think
‘genius’ is too strong a word to apply to him. He was skilled in all
forms of sleights, had a charm of approach to his audiences which
I have never seen equaled, and was an illusionist second to none.
He invented nearly all the illusions he used—which is all the more
remarkable when one considers that he had very little knowledge of
mechanics.”2
Mr. Maskelyne’s contribution to this book—the sections entitled
The Art in Magic and The Theory of Magic—had their beginning
as a series of articles which he wrote and published in The Magic
Circular, the monthly journal of The Magic Circle, a society of
1 Sidney W. Clarke, The Annals of Conjuring, in The Magic Wand, December, 1927,
pp. 196, 197.
2 Will Goldston, Great Tricks Revealed, London, George Routledge and Sons, Ltd.,

p. 4. [xi]
xii OUR MAGIC
British conjurers. The section of Mr. Devant, on The Practice of
Magic, is obviously the outcome of that noted performer’s long and
brilliant career. So far as I know, it is unique in the literature of
magic; for nowhere else can the student of conjuring find a dozen
important feats taken by one of the world’s most successful magicians
from his own professional program, and explained so carefully that
every detail of preparation and presentation is made intelligible. I
am confident that no magician, old or young, experienced or begin­
ner, could read these superb lessons in conjuring without deriving
great benefit.
It is hard to understand why this book, which at the time of its
publication in 1911 was hailed by reviewers as the most important
work on magic ever written, was allowed to remain out of print for
several decades. Perhaps the most likely explanation of its long
quiescence lies in the unwillingness of too many magicians to get
down to good, hard study. Professor Hoffman pronounced Our Magic
“distinctly the most advanced book which has so far appeared upon
the subject of magic.” Moreover, some parts of the theoretical sec­
3
tions are highly abstract, and consequently make difficult reading.
There are indications, however, that the magicians of today are, on
the whole, far more interested than their predecessors of the past
generation in gaining a comprehension of the art and theory of
magic—realizing, it may be assumed, that knowledge of this kind
cannot fail to raise the level of one’s practice of magic.
Whether or not this is a sound appraisal of the situation which
exists today, both the publisher and editor of The Fleming Magic
Classic Series are in full agreement that no series of this kind would
be complete without Our Magic. The present edition is published by
arrangement with the original English and American publishers. The
text remains unaltered, except for minor editorial changes which
seemed desirable in view of the fact that this new printing is designed
primarily for American readers. The illustrations, however, are very
different from those of the original edition, which consisted of photo­
graphic halftones. The line drawings that have been substituted for
the original illustrations were made, with infinite patience, by Miss
Jeanne McLavy, from halftone prints which often failed to reveal
details mentioned in the text. They seem to me to represent a sub­
stantial and welcome gain in clarity over the original halftones.
England’s Home of Mystery is gone, perhaps forever. But in Our
3 The Magic Wand, January, 1912, p. 272.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION xiii
Magic, the true lover of magic may still catch a glimpse of the high
spirit and rare talent that made this little theater of mystery, in a
period when conjuring had reached what may prove to have been
its very peak of excellence, the Mecca of magicians throughout the
world. In this volume, one may read the most scholarly presentation
of the theory of magic that has yet been written, and study the stage
methods of a performer to whom his fellow-craftsmen, with an almost
unbelievable degree of unanimity, accorded the honor of being the
greatest of British magicians. Here, as Professor Hoffmann put it, is
“a book to be taken seriously, and to be studied, in the case of the
neophyte, with the same reverent attention with which the budding
medico reads his Gray’s Anatomy, or the future Attorney-General
studies his legal textbooks.”4
Swarthmore, Pennsylvania P aul F leming
March I, 1946
4 The Magic Wand, January, 1912, p. 272.
CONTENTS
Part I: The Art in Magic
By Nevil Maskelyne
Ch.
I. The Real Secrets of Magic............................................................... 3
II. The Three Degrees in Art.................................................................. 6
III. Unity.....................................................................................................20
IV. Consistency........................................................................................29
V. Justification.................................................................................. ......36
VI. Surprise and Repetition....................................................................42
VII. Effects of Transition........................................................................49
VIII. Climax.................................................................................................54
IX. Presentation .....................................................................................64
X. Rehearsal.............................................................................................70
XI. Speed in Presentation........................................................................
XII. Patter................................................................................................. 94
XIII. Stage Manner and Personality......................................................94
XIV. Mental Attitude.......................................................................... ......98
XV. The Importance of ArtisticPrinciples ........................................101
Part II: The Theory of Magic
By Nevil Maskelyne
Ch.
I. Terminology..................................................................................... 107
II. General Analysis.............................................................................113
III. Misdirection.................................................................................. ....117
IV. Styles of Magic................................................................................ 125
V. Manipulative Principles.................................................................130
VI. Principles of Mental Magic...........................................................135
VII. Mechanical Principles.....................................................................138
VIII. Optical Principles............................................................................ 141
IX. Acoustic Principles......................................................................... 143
X. Electrical Principles...................................................................... 145
XI. Chemical and Molecular Principles........................................... 148
XII. Magical Inventions......................................................................... 152
[xv]
xvi OUR MAGIC
Part III: The Practice of Magic
By David Devant
Ch.
I. With Playing Cards. The Triangle.............................................. ....171
Bibliographical Index of Card Tricks....................................181
II. With Billiard Balls. Multiplication...............................................194
III. W ith Figures. Simple Addition....................................................212
IV. With a Borrowed Watch. The Forgotten Guest......................220
V. With a Borrowed Handkerchief. A Lesson in Magic...............233
VI. With Bells. Homing Bells..............................................................249
VII. With Flags. The National Colors................................................257
VIII. With Liquids. The Three Vases......................................................264
IX. With a Rabbit, a Ball, and Two Hats. The Silver
Ball.................................................................................................270
X. With Fish and Letters. The Educated Fish.................................282
XI. With Doves and Rats. The Point of View....................................290
XII. With a Canary and a Target. The Phoenix................................301
Index....................................................................................................315
PART I
THE ART IN MAGIC
CHAPTER I
THE REAL SECRETS OF MAGIC

B
eyond doubt, the attractiveness of magic is largely due to its
“secrets.” Not only to the general public, but also to the
professional magician, the secrets of magic represent the most
fascinating branch of the subject. They are, among all classes of
society, a popular topic for conversation. They have given birth to
whole libraries of literature and are responsible for a mass of chuckle­
headed opinions—greater in number and variety, perhaps, than
have ever resulted from the discussion of any other subject under
the sun.
Unfortunately, however, notwithstanding the constant attention de­
voted to this theme, the real secrets of the magic art have received but
scant consideration. Their true nature—indeed, their very existence-
may be said to have been almost entirely disregarded by the public,
and too frequently overlooked by professional magicians. The preva­
lent idea is that the secrets of magic consist in tricks and dodges,
connected with the manipulations and the apparatus employed in
the art. To most people, the “secret” of any magical presentation
means simply “how it is done.” It is assumed that, when once the
devices used in producing a magical effort have been discovered,
the secret of that effect is revealed. The trick has been found out,
and therefore nothing remains to be learned. A more erroneous view
has never been conceived. Not only so, it is a view that cannot be
justified on any rational ground, as we propose to show in the
following pages.
The real secrets of magic are not merely trade secrets. They are
not workshop devices, connected with manipulation and mechanism.
They are not ingenious dodges which, when learned, enable their
possessor to accomplish all that a skilled magician can do. They are
not tricks and puzzles devised for the bewilderment of the public.
Far from it. They are of an order far higher than elementary matters
of that description, and far removed from the popular conception of
their nature. Our present object is to disclose these secrets—to explain
the real basis of the magic art, and the principles upon which magical
effects actually depend. In short, we intend to show not only the
[ 3]
4 OUR MAGIC
tricks which magicians use, but also the essential factors which
underlie the whole art and practice of magic. It will be found that,
so far from being bound up in jugglery and paraphernalia, the true
art in magic is purely intellectual in character, and comprises an
infinitely varied range of interest.
It is essential in the first place that a just conception be formed
of the scope and intention of this present section of our work. “The
Art in Magic” is a very different thing from “The Art of Magic.”
The latter term may embrace an immense number of diverse con­
siderations. The former relates to one side only of magic; a side
which has never received the attention it deserves. Our immediate
aim is the elucidation of those fundamental principles which, being
reduced to practice, justify the claim of magic to be classed among
the Arts—not, of course, among the mechanical arts, but among the
Fine Arts—the Arts with a big A. We wish to demonstrate the causes
which, irrespective of technical skill and knowledge, determine the
relative success or failure of individual aspirants to fame in pursuit
of our art. It is evident that such matters are well worthy of con­
sideration by every magician—even one of the most practical, or
most commercial type. Indeed, it may be said, with some show of
reason, that the man who cannot explain the principles involved
in such questions as these, cannot claim to understand the inward­
ness of the magic art. It is that inwardness which governs a per­
former’s ultimate success or failure. Therefore, it must be well to
investigate the actual agencies which dominate the successful prac­
tice of magic.
This we shall now attempt, to the best of our ability. In doing so,
however, we must direct the reader’s attention to things which do
not lie upon the surface of our subject. We must deal with points
which are not exactly obvious to the man who, for the first time,
looks into a book dealing with magic. We must, for the moment,
lose sight of such details as “sleights” and “fakes,” and confine our
attention to broad principles which, superficially, may seem to be
mere abstractions, of no especial importance to practical men. But,
as we proceed, we hope to show by means of practical illustrations
the really important nature of the matters we are discussing.
We presume that everyone will agree to the recognition of magic
as an art. As a matter of fact, magic embodies both art and science.
Ordinarily, the phrase “the art of magic” is used as including every­
thing that relates to the subject, from any point of view whatever.
Therefore, since our present inquiry relates only to the art side of
THE REAL SECRETS OF MAGIC 5
magic, and has no concern with its science, we have been careful to
choose for this section a title which avoids the loose terminology
commonly employed. Then, magic being admittedly an art, let us
investigate the real nature of the Art in Magic; for, upon that
investigation depends the disclosure of the real secrets of magic.
CHAPTER II
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART

H
ere we come into contact with a difficulty which has taxed
the powers of many great minds to the utmost. Before we
can talk sensibly about “Art” of any kind, we must first
define the true meaning of that term. We must decide what, in our
opinion, art really is. Fortunately in this instance, we are not in
danger of encountering the obstacle that so many able intellects
have failed to overcome. We are not called upon to define the
meaning of art in the abstract. We have only to define what is meant
by “Art in Magic.” To that end, we may evoke the aid of both
authority and common sense.
It was, we believe, Robert-Houdin who said that a conjurer is in
reality “an actor playing the part of a magician.” There is only one
fault in that statement. He should have said “a great conjurer.”
Because, as we all know, there are many conjurers who only play
the part of some other conjurer. That, however, is a matter with
which we shall deal forcibly later on. For the present, we shall accept
the broad principle expressed in Robert-Houdin’s definition of a
conjurer. That definition may not be—and is not—accurate in rela­
tion to what a conjurer always is; but, beyond doubt, it is accurate in
the sense of defining what a conjurer always should be. A real modern
magician, then, is essentially an actor. He must be so, or as the sole
alternative he must be a duffer. Both authority and common sense
unite in compelling us to that conclusion. To all intents and pur­
poses, the real art of the magician is identical with that of the actor.
The magician’s methods, of course, are widely different from those
of the actor; but, whatever difference there may be in method, the
principles involved are identical in both cases.
From the time of Aristotle to the present date, the consensus of
authorities has decided that all art is based upon imitation. Most
of the authorities have “flown off the handle, in trying to decide
what constitutes art in the abstract; but all agree that the basis of
art is imitation—either the imitation of something that actually exists,
or of something that might exist in circumstances imagined by the
artist. With this knowledge in our possession and fortified by the
exercise of our own judgment, we realize the fact that a display of
skill given by a magical performer should imitate, and thus convey
[6]
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 7
to the spectators, the impression of effects produced by supernormal
powers. Herein, we may justly say that we stand upon sure ground—
and here we may rest, so far as primary considerations are con­
cerned. We have no need to be led out of our depth by trying to
define that will-o’-the wisp, “abstract art.”
Now, artistic judgment may, to a great extent, be gained by study
and experience. Similarly, physical adaptation may be developed
by early and systematic training. And the acquisition of either of
those essentials may be considerably facilitated by means of accurate
knowledge. Such knowledge may be either theoretical or practical;
but of the two the theoretical must, in the long run, prove to be
the more valuable. It necessarily conducts the student to the bed­
rock of his subject; whereas the study of practical details only leads
to a knowledge of isolated facts. By means of the latter form of study,
the student may learn what to do in order to produce certain effects.
But, however much attention he may devote to the acquisition of
that detailed knowledge, he will never ascertain therefrom the
reasons which underlie the processes he employs. He will only learn
the “how” of his work; the “why” will remain obscure. In short, he
will never really understand his business. Everything he does will
be done blindly. Every new departure he endeavors to make must
be subject to conclusions arrived at by means of “trial and error.”
Any little variation upon his usual practice will represent a subject
of extreme doubt. He can only think that what he proposes to do
will produce the result he desires. He can never know what he is
doing, because he does not understand why the things he does are
successful.
On the other hand, the man who has gained a knowledge of the
broad principles which constitute the foundation of the art side of
magic must necessarily possess a great advantage, in such circum­
stances. He knows the reason why each effect he has already produced
has been successful. He can follow the manner in which each of his
previous devices has operated, in influencing the minds of spectators.
Similarly, from his knowledge of basic principles, he will be able to
deduce the proper manner of presentation and the probable effect
of any new conception. The same principles which govern what he
has already done also govern what he is about to do. Therefore,
being acquainted with the “why” of the matter, he is not afflicted
by doubts concerning the “how.” Putting the whole thing in a
nutshell, it simply comes to this—the man not only knows his busi­
ness; he also understands it. He knows the technique, and under­
8 OUR MAGIC
stands the art. As to the great value—and the commercial value—of
the understanding, we think, there can exist no possible doubt.
As already stated, there is a kind of art which imitates things
imagined by the artist. There is another kind of art which imitates
things that actually exist. There is also a third kind—that which
imitates neither things imagined by the imitator, nor things that
exist; but merely imitates the imitations of others. These three
varieties may, respectively, be described as High Art, Normal Art,
and False Art.
We now turn our attention to the systematic discussion of the
three phases of art thus defined, and endeavor to arrive at sound
conclusions thereon in relation to the Art in Magic.
The subject of false art in magic, when rationally investigated,
presents no difficulties, in the way of either doubt or obscurity. In
magic, as elsewhere, false art is the art which imitates art. It is an
imitation of an imitation. An illustration of this may be given by
means of a familiar analogy in connection with painting. Pictures
painted by the great masters are frequently reproduced by students
and by professional copyists. Many of the copies thus executed are,
in all practical respects, facsimiles of the original pictures from
which they were copied. Yet nobody, in his sober senses, could
possibly regard those copies, however faithful they may be, as works
of true art. We have all seen copies of invaluable masterpieces offered
for sale. We have all noted the insignificant price at which such
copies are sold. We have all been struck by the small value of the
copies as compared with their originals, the latter being very often
so precious that money could not buy them. The reason for this
discrepancy is obvious. The originals are works of high art. The
copies are works of false art; except, of course, that they have the
merit of honesty. They are admittedly nothing more than copies.
As in painting, so also in magic. To produce a magical effect of
original conception is a work of high art. It imitates the exercise of
magical powers, by means and in a manner conceived by the artist
who produced it. To reproduce a magical effect, exactly as already
conceived and executed by an artist in magic, is false art. It merely
imitates the original imitation; and, in actual value, is just as worth­
less as a painting copied from another painting. Any weakling may
be taught how to do that kind of thing; and, having learned his
lesson, may earn an income equivalent to the value of a weakling’s
work.
Yet, in spite of the truth of the foregoing statements, many of
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 9
those who practise magic, either as a means of livelihood or as an
intellectual recreation, appear to be entirely ignorant of the very
existence of facts such as those we have reviewed. In all probability,
those men would feel highly offended were any doubt cast upon
their claim to be regarded as artists. Yet, in all they do, they prove
themselves to be mere mechanics. They can do just what somebody
else has already done—and they can do nothing more. Such men are
not artists. They cannot be; since, in all their works, the only kind
of art displayed is the false art, which is an imitation of real art.
The class of man above indicated represents a type that must be
very familiar to all. The methods adopted by such men are of com­
mon knowledge. Suppose, for instance, Mr. Artist produces a novel
and successful effect. No sooner has he done so than Mr. Copyist
becomes on the alert, and forthwith proceeds to haunt the place
wherein Mr. Artist’s performances are given. By means of persistent
observation, aided perhaps by accident, by means of purchase from
some other imitator, or, it may be, by means of bribery and corrup­
tion, Mr. Copyist eventually acquires the knowledge and equipment
requisite for the reproduction of the novel effect. That end having
been attained, one might think that Mr. Copyist would need to gain
nothing, more at Mr. Artist’s expense. Generally, however, that is
far from being the case. Although he has become possessed of the
technical requirements connected with the effect he seeks to repro­
duce, Mr. Copyist even then is not content to take off his coat and
do a little meritorious work. Having got what he wanted in order
to reproduce the effect, he might surely be expected to infuse some
spice of originality into his reproduction. But, no! He will not
trouble himself even to that slight extent. He does not mind expend­
ing his time in gathering the crumbs that fall from another’s table;
but he has a rooted objection to expending energy in making his
own bread. So he continues to attend Mr. Artist’s performances until,
in the course of time, he has learned by heart every word Mr. Artist
says, every inflection of Mr. Artist’s voice, and every movement and
gesture Mr. Artist makes. Then, and then only, is Mr. Copyist pre­
pared to set to work on his own account. And when his reproduction
is exhibited, what is it? Generally speaking, it is but a pale reflection
of the original work of art. At the best, it is merely slavish imitation;
and, as such, has no artistic value.
On several occasions, we have made an experiment which is always
interesting. That experiment has been tried upon copyists, clinging
to the skirts of various arts, including magic. It consists in saying to
10 OUR MAGIC
Mr. Copyist, at the conclusion of his performance, “I had only to close
my eyes, and I could almost have believed it was Mr. Artist who was
performing.” Thereupon, Mr. Copyist has, invariably, assumed an
expression of smug satisfaction, and has given thanks for the great
compliment (?) paid him! If he could only have realized what was
passing in the mind of the person to whom his thanks were addressed
—but, there! his mental caliber, of course, forbids any such exercise of
intelligence. Yet, one cannot help coveting the blissful ignorance
and the sublime impudence which enable such a man to pose as an
artist. The possession of an intellect so obtuse, and a hide so
pachydermatous, must confer upon the possessor a degree of self-
satisfaction unknown to men of real ability.
Some may possibly think we have been too severe upon Mr.
Copyist. It must be remembered, however, that no useful purpose
can be served by mincing matters, when endeavoring to uphold any
just cause. If magic is to be raised to its proper level among the fine
arts, one must not withhold the statement of any truth, however
disagreeable it may be, that may help to drive home the essential
points which distinguish real Art in Magic from the false art so often
met with in the practice of magic.
Leaving for the present the subject of False Art, we shall proceed
to the more agreeable considerations connected with True Art in
Magic. Of this, as we have already seen, there are two kinds—Normal
Art and High Art. Those definitions, of course, do not represent
qualities that are capable of hard-and-fast classification. In the nature
of things, that is impossible. The range of art, from its highest grade
to its lowest, includes every possible degree of merit. Except in
general terms, one cannot say that, within such and such limits,
Normal Art is contained and, beyond those limits, we have on the
one hand High Art, and on the other False Art. There is an almost
imperceptible gradation throughout the entire scale, between each
particular degree and those adjoining it. One can only generalize,
when dealing with the principles of any form of art; and, speaking
broadly, say that High Art is situated near to the top of the scale,
Normal Art near the middle, and False Art near the lower end. It
is the normal or average degree—approximating to the central posi­
tion of the scale—that next claims our attention.
When discussing False Art in Magic, we had no difficulty in pro­
viding a definition of its nature. When we say that False Art is the
art which imitates art, we are merely stating a truism, and one that
is applicable to all arts alike. But when we proceed to define Normal
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 11
Art in Magic, we find the task somewhat more difficult. In painting,
for example, it is easy enough and accurate enough to say that Normal
Art is the art which imitates nature. We can all understand that the
normal artist, in painting, is he who transfers to his canvas a transcript
of what he himself has seen in nature. In nature, however, there is
no magic, because the very essence of magic is that it apparently sets
the laws of nature at defiance. “Natural Magic” is really a contradic­
tion in terms. It may mean almost anything, according to the sense in
which it is used. Therefore, apart from art of some kind, magic has
no existence. Hence, the point is, how can the normal artist in magic
reproduce the normal effects associated with magic, without at once
becoming a false artist—one who imitates art? It is a very pretty ques­
tion, involving an interesting problem. The answer to that question,
and the solution of that problem, cannot fail to provide a valuable
mental exercise for all magicians who respect their profession and
value their art.
At first glance, it may appear that, at this stage of our investigation,
we have encountered a difficulty of considerable magnitude; or
possibly an insurmountable obstacle. A very little reflection, how­
ever, will show that such is by no means the case. The difficulty is
more apparent than real. The principles which govern the normal
practice of other arts will be found, absolutely, of equal validity in
the Art in Magic. This may readily be demonstrated by amplifying
the analogy, already employed, between magic and painting.
In painting, the normal artist makes a picture, representing some­
thing or a combination of many things, that will reproduce the effect
of actually looking upon the work of nature. He does not create
anything; he merely imitates things, which already exist, on canvas.
The things he paints resemble, more or less, things which others
have painted. As a rule, such resemblances, in normal art, are inevita­
ble. The important point, however, is that the things he paints do
not imitate paintings made by others. The various things which enter
into the composition of his picture are the common property of every
artist. Everyone is at liberty to combine those details, in any manner
he may think fit, to produce whatever effect he chooses. But, so soon
as any painter copies a particular combination, or a particular treat­
ment of such details, as represented in the work of another, so soon
will his work be reduced to the level of false art.
Now, in view of these self-evident facts, the difficulty of defining
the nature of Normal Art in Magic becomes reduced to very small
dimensions. In fact, one can scarcely say that any difficulty exists.
12 OUR MAGIC
Just as the average painter has at hand innumerable details of subject
and technique, all of which are common property, so has the average
magician a wide selection of materials which, in common with all his
fellow-artists, he is at liberty to use. Just as the painter uses familiar
methods and stock subjects for the production of his pictures, so
does the magician use methods and subjects which have a similar
relation to his own special art. In either case, the chief characteristic
which distinguishes Normal Art from False Art consists in the fact
that the former relies upon personal ability, while the latter sponges
upon the ability of others. That is perfectly clear.
There need be no hesitation in giving a definition of what consti­
tutes Normal Art in Magic. Obviously, it is the art which employs
familiar means to produce its own especial results. Normal Art of
every kind, when reduced to its true basis, consists in that and
nothing more. Certain subjects and certain methods are common
property. The normal artist utilizes those subjects and methods,
without copying anyone else. That is to say, the difference between
the essentially false and the essentially true, in any art, lies in the
respective absence or presence of original effort. One may be a true
artist without possessing creative genius. Individual skill in adapta­
tion will suffice. But no true artist can ever be made from material
contained in a mere copyist. On the other hand, however, a normal
artist may only too readily degenerate into a copyist, unless he is
careful to keep in view the duty he owes both to his art and to him­
self.
Upon such points, the man who, even in a very minor degree,
possesses the true artistic temperament, cannot help feeling and
speaking strongly. He who seeks to acquire or to retain the social
position assigned to an artist, can never lose sight of the maxim
"Noblesse oblige.” He is perforce compelled to avoid many practices
which, if employed in commerce, would be perfectly justifiable. He
who employs the tradesman’s methods must be content to remain a
tradesman. His ultimate aim consists in the making of money; a thing
with which art has no concern. It is true that, in art, even more profit
may often be made than in trade; but whatever profit may inciden­
tally accrue to the artist, his ultimate aim is far higher than matters
relating to finance. He has, of course, every reason for studying his
own interests. Nobody can blame him for that; nor, indeed, can do
otherwise than approve his prudence. But, at all times, the interests
of his art are paramount. Should there arise an occasion when an
artist finds self-interest opposed to the interests of art, he must be
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 13
prepared to sacrifice profit upon the altar of duty. If he cannot do
that, he is no true artist. Let him, then, come down from his pedestal,
and take his place among workaday humanity. In doing so, he will
suffer no disgrace; but, on the contrary, he will deserve honor. By
ridding himself of an unwarrantable assumption of artistic merit, he
will be absolved from the guilt of false-pretense.
In magic, then, the normal artist is he who takes materials which
are the common property of all who practise his art, and utilizes those
materials for his own particular ends. His general purpose, of course,
like that of all magicians, is the simulation of supernatural effects.
And, in the achievement of that purpose, the work done by the
normal artist in magic will fall within one of three categories, which
may be outlined as follows:
1. The use of familiar methods, in a familiar combination, to pro­
duce a familiar effect, but with some originality in presentation.
2. The use of familiar methods, in a novel form of combination
to produce a familiar effect, the manner of presentation displaying
}

some originality.
3. The use of familiar methods, in any form of combination, to
produce a novel effect, the presentation of which must necessarily
possess more or less originality.
Everything which is not contained in those three very extensive
categories must be something which is either greater or less than
Normal Art in Magic. It must approximate either to False Art at
one extreme, or to High Art at the other.
In our Normal Art, as already defined, it will be noted that every
department possesses one characteristic that is common to all, viz.,
originality of presentation. And, having carried our investigation
thus far, we are able to see that, without the saving grace of original
presentation, a magician’s work must necessarily degenerate into
False Art. The extent of such degeneration will be exactly commensu­
rate with the degree to which that work imitates the work of other
magicians. In other words, the degeneration is proportionate to the
imitation of art. The very moment we detect the existence of art
which imitates art, we know we are face to face with falsity, more or
less pronounced. On that point we need have no fear of being mis­
taken. Knowing what we know, our estimate of a magician’s merit
will be governed mainly by this particular consideration. When we
recognize the presence of False Art, we prepare ourselves to estimate
the depth to which the magician will sink. When we note the absence
of False Art, we prepare to observe the height to which the magician
14 OUR MAGIC
will rise. Therein we instinctively act upon the dictates of common
sense and common justice.
Turning to the other extreme, however, we find that our Normal
Art presents a very wide field for expansion, and is capable of attain­
ing a very high level of merit. Indeed, it may be raised to a level
which approximates very closely to High Art; so closely, in fact, that
it encroaches upon the hinterland dividing the two higher sections
of art. In this respect, everything depends upon the amount of orig­
inal accomplishment displayed. The essential truth of this latter
statement will become more apparent when we proceed to discuss
the actual characteristics of High Art in Magic.
We must never lose sight of the fact that in magic, as in all intel­
lectual occupations, Normal Art is by far the most important depart­
ment. High Art is a sporadic and accidental development that may
be productive of beneficial influences, if only it can secure due ap­
preciation. In any event, however, its influence can never be other­
wise than for the good. False Art is a parasitic growth that can only
be productive of evil, and should never be permitted to live. Between
the two there lies Normal Art, which includes the vast bulk of
magical representations, and upon the elevation of which all true
progress depends. It is useless to point out the merits exhibited by the
work of this or that exponent, and say—“See how high a level magic
has attained!” It is unjust to quote the doings of certain so-called “art­
ists,” and say—“See the depths to which magic has become degraded!”
The true status of magic, as an art, can only be ascertained by means
of evidence derived from the work of accredited Normal Artists. The
more nearly our Normal Art, as a whole, can be made to approach
the status of High Art, the greater will be the elevation attained by
magic. The more nearly our Normal Art approximates to False Art,
the lower must the whole art of magic sink. These statements admit
of no dispute, as any man of ordinary intelligence can perceive. By
our Normal Art, we must either stand or fall. There is no help for
it. If Normal Art becomes debased, no individual genius can save it.
If Normal Art is represented by men who respect their art, no char­
latan, however notorious, can ever degrade it.
The future of our art, then, rests with the Normal Artist. Upon
him depends the ultimate development of magic. If he is not true to
his art, the false artist will in the end reign supreme. In such circum­
stances, magic must relinquish all hope of attaining a position among
the Fine Arts. It must be relegated to the position of a mechanical art
—an inferior mechanical art—lower even than that of a circus juggler.
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 15
This is obvious, because, from the standpoint of mechanical art, the
juggler’s attainments are far higher than those of a magician. The
latter can only take a higher place by realizing that he has to depend
for success upon his brains, rather than upon his hands. In manipula­
tive skill, he is hopelessly outclassed by the juggler. The amount of
practice and physical training he requires cannot in any way be
compared with that which is needed by the juggler. If, therefore, the
Normal Artist in magic insists upon regarding his art as a mere
congeries of mechanical accomplishments, he must be content to
occupy a position inferior to that of a skilled mechanic.
The question of manipulative skill, as considered in relation to the
respective accomplishments of the conjurer, the juggler and the
artificer, may be put in a nutshell. Where the conjurer requires
weeks of practice, the juggler requires months. And where the jug­
gler requires months of practice, the skilled mechanic requires years.
This is written, remember, by men who know what they are talking
about—who are familiar with the three kinds of training in question.
Mere opinion does not enter into the matter at all. As a mechanical
art (i.e., as a form of manipulative skill), magic occupies a very low
position indeed. Only as an intellectual pursuit can it claim to be
regarded as an art.
At times we have conversed with conjurers, professional and
amateur, who have become momentarily enamored of some original
or newly-introduced manipulation. In such cases, it is singularly
interesting to note the attitude of mind displayed by the enthusiast.
He is proud of his attainment as though it were an infant prodigy
of whom he was the parent. He speaks of it in rapturous terms, as
though it represented the highest achievement of which the magic art
is capable. And no doubt if he were questioned on the point he
would say that, in his opinion, the production of such ingenious
devices must be regarded as the high-water mark of Art in Magic.
When, however, we apply to such matters the touchstone of actual
knowledge, we have no difficulty in seeing that the judgment pro­
nounced by our enthusiast is wildly wide of the mark. Greater folly,
indeed, could hardly be put into words. To say that any mere manip­
ulation can possibly be regarded as a work of High Art, is to sound the
very depths of absurdity. Manipulative processes are only one small
portion of the means whereby the purposes of art are served. They
are useful—indeed they are indispensable. But so are the brushes of
the painter, and the chisels of the sculptor. In the work of an artist,
mere handicraft has a value very little higher than that of the utensils
16 OUR MAGIC
employed therein. The only adjunct to which pride of place may be
assigned is the artistic brain which conceives and directs the purposes
of handicraft and utensils alike.
To complete the preliminary stage of our investigation, we shall
now discuss the essential features of High Art in Magic. As in previ­
ous instances, we must first define precisely what we mean by the
term “High Art” and ascertain what it is that, probably, constitutes
the quality in question.
Herein we are confronted by no shadow of difficulty, either in
connection with general principles or with specific details. High Art
in Magic is, in every essential, the counterpart of High Art in other
callings. It is that which originates and executes truly artistic con­
ceptions. It represents the most complete triumph of mind over
matter. It exists only in its power to create, but its creations are,
humanly speaking, imperishable. As Shakespeare says:
“Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme.”
—Sonnet LV.
Those words are applicable, in principle, to High Art of every
kind. When, for instance, we review the history of magic, we cannot
fail to recognize the inherent immortality of those works which have
possessed the qualities essential to High Art. The work of the magi­
cian, like that of the actor, is among the ephemera of civilization. The
magician himself leaves behind him very little beyond a name. Yet
how great is the intrinsic value of that little, reckoned in hard cash.
Its extrinsic value is, at the same time, immeasurable. In the bare
records handed down to us in the history of magic, an immensity of
progress and a wealth of honestly artistic accomplishment are epito­
mized. Those who know the vast amount of hammering that has to
be done before even the faintest echo of their work is heard by others,
can read between the written lines and fill in the blank spaces of
history. Thus they are able to appreciate the achievements of their
predecessors, with some approach to accuracy.
When, from the vantage point of knowledge and experience, we
review the history of magic, we instinctively realize that the achieve­
ments which live are those which truly possess the character of High
Art. They are the works of creative genius—the works of Master
Magicians, whose mastery was due to an innate sense of the principles
which underlie true art. Dispossessed of that sense, those men would
never have occupied the place in history which now is theirs by right.
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 17
The degree to which their work was dominated by artistic principles
is evident to anyone who undertakes a dispassionate study of the
matter.
If we bring an open mind to bear upon the achievements of Past
Masters in Magic, and compare the purely technical merit of those
works with that displayed in other branches of invention, the com­
parison thus instituted is very far from being favorable to magic. On
the contrary, it shows magic in a very poor light. Regarded in that
light, magic appears to consist merely in a series of second-rate
mechanical devices and childishly simple processes. Such is the actual
fact, beyond all possibility of dispute. Hence the obvious folly, as
already stated, of imagining that the Art of Magic is represented by
“sleights” and “fakes.” Such devices only constitute a branch—a very
insignificant branch—of mechanical handicraft, and nothing more.
To regard the Art of Magic in so unworthy a light is a serious
blunder—proverbially worse than a crime. The art we profess is not
contained in the mere devices we employ, nor does the history of our
art consist in a catalog of the devices handed down to us. If, in
magic, such things were all that could be claimed, this book could
never have been written. If matters of pure technique—mere handi­
craft—were all we had to discuss, the phrase “Art in Magic” would
represent a solecism of the first water. Fortunately for us, however,
magic occupies a far higher plane than that of the actual means it
employs. Such is the case in every art; for art of any kind can only
begin where processes end. As grammar is to literature, or versifica­
tion to poetry, so are sleights and fakes to magic. Such things are the
means, not the end of art. In other arts, this fact is clearly understood
and appreciated; but in magic neither the literature nor the general
practice of the art has so far shown any indication of a true under­
standing of this most vital question. Surely it is our bounden duty to
do our utmost toward correcting this lamentable defect. When that
correction has been duly made—and not until then—magic will at­
tain the position among fine arts to which it is justly entitled.
To return, however, to the history of magic, there is one obvious
question that arises. In view of what has already been said, wherein
lies the true merit—the High Art—of the classic productions handed
down to us? That question is easily answered. And, still more easily,
can we say wherein the true merit of those productions does not
consist. For example, it does not consist in the inventive ability, as
ordinarily understood, of the old masters. It does not consist in the
mechanical ingenuity they displayed. It does not consist in the ma­
18 OUR MAGIC
nipulative skill at their command. It does not consist in the theo­
retical knowledge they possessed, nor in the practical experience
they gained. Such elementary matters barely touch the fringe of true
art. Thus, by the simple process of exclusion, we arrive at the only
possible answer. The true merit of the masterpieces in question con­
sists in the originality they display, and the perfection with which
they simulate the operation of supernatural influences. The honors
gained by Master Magicians have been due to a genius for conceiving
and fulfilling the requirements of artistic originality. In every art,
the Master is he who can produce original effects, and understands
how to present them in an original and convincing manner.
Thus there are three elementary facts which are well worthy of
remembrance. Without thorough knowledge, no man can become
a true artist. Without honorable ambition, no man can become a
high artist. And without originality no man can become a great
artist. Of course, we cannot all attain the greatness to which the
Master Magicians are so worthily entitled. We cannot all hope to
become exponents of the highest art in magic. But we can all, at
least, try to do so, and in proportion to our united efforts in this
direction, we shall raise the status of magic as an art.
In this connection we may advantageously bear in mind the words
written centuries ago by Sir Philip Sidney: —
“Who shootes at the mid-day sonne, though he be sure he shall never
hit the marke, yet as sure he is he shall shoote higher than who aymes
but at a bush.”
That kind of “shootynge” represents a perfect analogy to the
methods of High Art. The actual end can never be attained; but,
nevertheless, every true artist will endeavor to approach it as nearly
as his natural abilities will permit. The heights we reach are all that
may be counted to us for righteousness. A lifetime of effort, upon
one dead level, is of less value than a single step toward higher aims.
And at the same time every artist knows that, whatever may be the
height he attains, his successors will go higher still. He has builded
upon foundations laid by others, and others in turn will build upon
the foundations he has laid. He can only say to posterity, in Kipling’s
words:—
“After me cometh a Builder. Tell him, I too have known.”1
1 “The Five Nations,” p. 66.
THE THREE DEGREES IN ART 19
Having made ourselves acquainted with certain fundamental
truths, we may now pass on to the consideration of specific principles.
Our best course, undoubtedly, will be to investigate various im­
portant qualities associated with the art of magic; and thus deduce
certain rules, whereby the production of artistic results may be
facilitated.
Here, however, we must be careful to avoid falling into a very
common error. We must not be drawn into a belief that, in art of
any kind, there is or can be any specific rule which may not be set
aside upon occasion. Cast-iron regulations are antagonistic to every
form of art. It is impossible to give recipes whereby the creation of
artistic effects may be assured. It is only possible to lay down rules
for the avoidance of certain ascertained defects, and even such rules
are not capable of rigid observance at all times. Their operation is
controlled by attendant circumstances; and, in order to use them to
full advantage, their scope and meaning must be fully understood.
At the same time, there is one general rule whereby at all times our
procedure may be governed. That rule may be stated as follows:—
(1) Never set aside any accepted rule, unless it is absolutely neces­
sary to do so for some clearly defined reason.
The application of this rule will become increasing evident as we
proceed with our investigation. For the present it will suffice to say
that when we have reasoned out and formulated a logical conclusion,
that conclusion should be adhered to so far as may be possible. Thus,
when no valid reason can be given for breaking an accepted rule, the
latter should be obeyed. With this preamble, we may proceed to the
detailed inquiry we have in view, treating each particular quality of
art under its own separate heading.
CHAPTER III
UNITY

I
n all probability, the quality to which the term “unity” is ap­
plied, is the most important factor in relation to every form of
art. At any rate, we may safely say there is no quality of greater
importance. As in other arts, so in magic, unity is a first essential to
success; since, without it, artistic results are impossible. This has
been understood and accepted since the earliest days of art. For ex­
ample, centuries before the Christian Era, Aristotle wrote, concern­
ing the Greek Drama:—
“As, therefore, in other mimetic arts} one imitation is an imitation of
one thing, so here the fable, being an imitation of an action, should be an
imitation that is one and entire; the parts of it being so connected that,
if any one of them be either transposed or taken away, the whole will be
destroyed or changed. For whatever may be either retained or omitted,
without making any sensible difference, is not properly a part—Poetics,
Part II, Chap. V.
If, for the word “fable,” we substitute the words “magical feat” or
other equivalent term, the foregoing paragraph will become as ap­
propriate to the Art of Magic as it now is to Dramatic Art. But, since
we are engaged upon an independent inquiry, we must not be con­
tent to accept, without proof, the mere pronouncement of any
authority, however eminent. It is necessary to make sure of our
ground as we proceed, and to obtain all reasonable proof that the
conclusions we adopt are well founded. Let us, then, review the facts
systematically; and, in the light of knowledge thus gained, form our
own conclusions as to the characteristics and importance of unity.
At the outset, for very obvious reasons, we may discard the mass of
proverbial nonsense which has crystallized around the idea of single­
ness of purpose and action. Such matters as the impossibility of doing
properly two things at once—of being in two places at one time (with
particular reference to Sir Boyle Roche’s bird)—of facing both ways
simultaneously, and so forth, such matters may be set aside entirely.
Mere impossibility is a consideration which in magic has no weight
whatever. The essence of the art consists in apparently accomplishing
things which are impossible. What we are concerned with just now
is the expediency of presenting each magical item in the form of a
[20]
UNITY 21
harmonious whole, and of avoiding everything in the nature of
incompleteness or discontinuity. Therein lies the true conception of
artistic unity.
“One imitation,” as stated in the quotation given above, “is an
imitation of one thing.” That is obviously true. And one magical
act, as presented to an audience, should constitute an imitation of
one apparently supernormal feat, culminating in one apparently
miraculous effect. We have only to reflect for a moment to realize the
fact that, in order to obtain a perfect effect, the only possible course
is to rivet the attention of the audience upon one continuous chain
of events, which will lead up to one definite and impressive result.
In this connection, it is necessary to remember that an audience is
not amenable to compulsion, and cannot be relied upon to make any
serious mental effort. Spectators attending a magical performance
have no idea of exerting themselves, either mentally or physically,
for the performer’s benefit. Why should they? They are there to be
amused, and for no other purpose. The exertion of following and
remembering details which involve any element of complexity, or
of trying to understand any matter which exhibits a mere trace of
obscurity, is a thing which no magician has a right to demand of his
audience. His spectators very justly expect that everything connected
with the entertainment will be so presented as to be readily under­
stood. Hence, it is important that, as a matter of ordinary practice,
each presentation shall consist in an unbroken sequence of events.
Here, for the moment, we may pause, to set down a valuable and
well-understood rule:—
(2) Always endeavor to form an accurate conception of the point
of view most likely to be adopted by a disinterested spectator. For
a performer to put himself in the place of his audience requires the
exercise of an amount of imagination and—may we say it?—of judg­
ment, rarely met with among those who are otherwise qualified to
entertain the public. Yet, the more completely a magician can obey
this rule, the greater will be his chances of success. The task before
him is gigantic—but he should attempt it nevertheless. He must try
to forget the importance of things which appeal to him most strongly,
because, for all the public knows or cares, those things might as well
be non-existent. The difficulty of his manipulations; the ingenuity
and originality of his inventions; the refinements and improvements
he has introduced; and, above all, the distinctive merits personal to
himself, should be disregarded. All such matters should be lost to
sight, in order that the one supreme consideration may not become
22 OUR MAGIC
obscured, even for a moment. The effect to be made upon his
audience is the one thing a magician should keep in view, as the
Americans say, “first, last, and all the time.”
The effect—and, bear in mind, the effect upon an audience—that
is the sole issue at stake. At the moment of presentation, that is the
only thing which matters. In all the wide world, so far as the audi­
ence is concerned, there is no other consideration worth so much as
a passing thought. Consequently, as a general proposition, it may be
said that the greatest possible error any magician can ever have laid
to his charge is that of “conjuring for conjurers” at a public per­
formance. Such conjuring may be entirely admirable when the audi­
ence is composed of conjurers. But, before the general public, it
must be regarded as inartistic; for the simple reason that, in such
circumstances, it is bound to fail in its effect. Between the point of
view of a conjurer and that of an ordinary spectator there is a great
gulf. Therefore, at a public performance, the production of an artistic
effect may often demand the adoption of methods which, with an
audience of conjurers, would be quite contrary to rational procedure.
Since the primary aim of a magician’s art is to entertain the public,
the importance of the following rule is self-evident: —
(3) Avoid complexity of procedure, and never tax either the
patience or the memory of an audience.
The thing presented should appear to consist in a perfectly regular
and natural series of operations; and, when the final effect is pro­
duced, it should be capable of instant appreciation. If its appreciation
is made to depend upon any conscious mental activity or any effort
of memory on the part of the audience, a proper effect can seldom
be achieved. If, in order to understand precisely what has happened,
the spectators have to reflect, even for a few moments, upon the
various stages of procedure which led up to the denouement, it is
certain that, from an artistic point of view, the presentation must be
unsatisfactory. There must be a lack of unity, in some respect or
other. By chance, the audience may happen to have retained an im­
pression of the details relevant to the final issue; and if so the result
may be fairly good. That, however, will be an accidental occurrence;
and no true artist ever trusts to accident. The effect produced should
be, as Pope says, “The result of Art, not Chance.” In this connection,
the following rule may be stated:—
(4) Never produce two simultaneous effects, and let no effect be
obscured by any subsidiary distraction.
Suppose, for instance, a magician were presenting the familiar
UNITY 23
“Four Ace Trick”; and, not being an artist, he thought to enhance
the effect either by introducing irrelevant manipulations, or by ar­
ranging (say) that the disclosure of certain previously selected cards
should occur simultaneously with the discovery of the four aces.
What would be the result? In either case, the preliminary operations
would introduce an element of confusion, most detrimental to suc­
cess; and in the second case the simultaneous production of two
diverse effects would be absolutely fatal. Distracted by the effort to
comprehend two problems at once, the audience would fail to ap­
preciate the significance of either. There would be too much to
remember, even if the spectators were prepared to exercise their
memory.
Whereas, if the performer were an artist, he would know that the
“trick,” as usually presented, is complete and perfect. That is to say,
it would be perfect if instead of the four aces, the four kings were
used; the three palmed cards being knaves, which could be shown
momentarily at the last deal. Nothing can be either added or omitted,
without marring its effect. That is obviously true. For, taking the
other extreme, if some “hustler” were to omit (say) the first dealing
out of the cards and the business associated therewith, anyone with
half an eye can see how much the final effect would become degraded.
There is, in fact, only one adequate manner of presenting the effect,
for the simple reason that in no other way can the requirements of
artistic unity be fulfilled. The imaginary examples cited are, of
course, gross exaggerations of such faults as are likely to occur in
practice. But the difference between the illustrations and possible
fact is only one of degree, and not of kind. The principles involved
are identical, in either case. The evident conclusion may be em­
bodied thus:—
(5) Let each magical act represent a complete, distinct, and sepa­
rate entity; comprising nothing beyond one continuous chain of
essential details, leading to one definite effect.
This rule, of course, must be read in conjunction with Rule 4,
and requires to be properly understood. It does not imply that two
events may not occur simultaneously. Very often, the entire effect of
a magical presentation consists in the fact that two or more things
happen at once. Nevertheless, the rule holds good; for, although
there may be a plurality of occurrences, a single, complete, and un­
disturbed effect may thereby be produced.
By way of example, let us consider the details of “The Wine and
Milk Trick.” In this, three large glass vases are used. To begin with,
24 OUR MAGIC
a bottle of wine is emptied into a vase, No. 1; a quart of milk is
poured into vase No. 2; vase No. 3 remains empty. Vases 1 and 2 are
next emptied into Vase No. 3; the latter thus contains about half a
gallon of wine and milk, mixed together, while the other two vases are
empty. A flag is then taken up, and waved in the air. Immediately,
the wine returns to vase No. 1; the milk goes back into No. 2; and
the flag passes into No. 3, from which the liquid mixture has now
taken flight. Thus, three events occur at the same moment. Yet there
is only one single effect produced. And why? Because the very essence
of the feat is the simultaneous occurrence of those three events.
Those three changes are mutually related and interdependent, each
being the complement of the other two. Such a feat involves no
contravention of Rules 4 and 5. If, however, it culminated in three
simultaneous and independent occurrences, there would occur three
simultaneous, and therefore mutually destructive effects. Conse­
quently, in such circumstances, there would be practically no residue
of combined effect worth mentioning.
Then again, an effect of this kind compels us to realize the impor­
tance of completeness in presentation, and also impresses upon us the
extreme cogency of Rule 3, concerning the avoidance of complexity.
If the thing is not presented in such a way that the presentation is
rendered complete in every respect, the audience will not understand
it. Unless everything is made perfectly clear—nothing being omitted
which, in any way, will help the audience to a true idea of the
problem to be solved—the effect will fall flat, nine times out of ten.
Without completeness in all essential details of word and action, the
mere fact that three changes occur together will so confuse an average
audience that, in all probability, the real merit of the effect will not
be perceived until some hours after the performance is over. Specta­
tors, having gone home and had time to think about the matter, will
realize that after all the thing was much better than they thought at
the time. That, of course, is all right in its way. But so far as the
success of an entertainment is concerned, nothing short of immediate
appreciation is of any great value. And for the purposes of art, any­
thing which is not immediately convincing is undoubtedly defective.
With reference to Rule 3, it is evident that complexity of pro­
cedure is as liable to produce a confused impression, as is a paucity of
essential preliminaries. In the latter case, the audience does not re­
ceive sufficient information. In the former, the information conveyed
is too voluminous. The audience cannot remember what has been
said and done. In neither case can an adequate effect be obtained.
UNITY 25
With all due respect to a magician’s best friend—the average spec­
tator—it is impossible to disguise the fact that, in matters such as
those just mentioned, the occasional stupidity of audiences is beyond
exaggeration. And with that fact every magician must be prepared
to reckon. Therein, we are led to recognize the importance of Rule
2, concerning the spectator’s point of view. It is not that the indi­
vidual units of any audience are necessarily stupid. Far from it. The
fact is merely that any gathering composed of average persons may, as
a whole, readily develop a tendency toward inattention and lack of
interest.
Many causes may contribute to the existence of that tendency;
indeed, almost any accidental cause may suffice to produce serious
distraction among most members of an audience. It may be that
hundreds of people have paid their money, and have also suffered
great inconvenience, in order to have the privilege of crowding
together for the purpose of seeing what one has to show. The whole
crowd is animated by an intense desire to lose sight of no single detail
of the performance; and, for the time being, has no other aim in life.
Yet let one person come in late, or let some unlucky attendant spill
a few coppers on the floor, and the whole of that excited audience will
leave off attending to the things they want, above all, to follow, and
will devote their entire attention to that late comer or those lost
halfpence.
That is the kind of tendency with which an entertainer must, at
any time, be prepared to cope. Hot, oppressive or relaxing weather;
any kind of political or national excitement; any person with a bad
cough, an irritating laugh, or an inclination to chatter; the presence,
even, of a lady wearing a peculiar head-dress, or of a man who
ostentatiously reads a newspaper, to show the world he can afford to
pay for an expensive seat merely to sit in it—all such matters pro­
vide sources of distraction, capable of inducing inattention and ap­
parent indifference among members of an audience.
It is in such conditions that a magician’s powers are liable to be
taxed to the utmost. It is then he discovers the extent to which he is
justified in calling himself an artist. In very adverse circumstances,
of course, no man may hope to hold his audience completely. But,
short of “battle, murder, and sudden death,’’ or other violent disturb­
ance among the spectators, a true artist will undoubtedly compel at­
tention. If he cannot do that, he may be sure there is either something
lacking in his performance, or it contains unnecessary details which
cause distraction; that is to say, his presentations, in some respect or
26 OUR MAGIC
other, are at variance with the principles of unity. He either omits
something which ought to be introduced, or introduces something
which ought to be omitted. Thus, the performance is marred by the
existence of either insufficiency, complexity, or redundancy. Accord­
ingly, the audience fails to understand what is shown; or, partially
understanding, fails to appreciate.
Of course, if one chose to argue the question of unity on the lines
of special-pleading, one might contend that, in many instances, the
introduction of irrelevant matters may cause amusement; and also
that the mere doing of two things at once may give evidence of great
skill, whereby an audience may be greatly impressed. That is all very
true. The man who, for instance, could play the cornet and violin
together, would be very clever, and by some that cleverness would be
highly appreciated. But such cleverness is not Art. Is there, now, any
artist in the musical world who would, in his wildest dreams, ever
conceive the idea of attempting such a feat? No! it is unthinkable.
And, what is true in the case of music is equally true in magic. With­
out artistic unity, mere cleverness can have but little value. It is that
kind of thing which was condemned by Shakespeare, in the words:—
“Though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance o’erweigh
a whole theater of others ."—Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2.
Although, for obvious reasons, a magician is bound to adapt his
performance to the mental capacity of particular audiences, that fact
does not at any time justify an entire disregard for artistic principles.
Every audience, however uncultivated, has a certain range of appre­
ciation. Therefore, however far an artist may have to stoop in order
to reach the intelligence of his audience, he will always endeavor to
maintain his work upon as high a plane as circumstances permit.
Only by such means can the public be led to appreciate good work.
Let them see the best often enough, and due appreciation is bound
to follow sooner or later.
A true appreciation of meritorious work in magic will not probably
become general just yet. The public, especially among its lower
grades, has too few opportunities for comparing good work with bad.
And even among the higher strata of society, magicians have every
need to maintain their presentations at as high a level as possible.
There is plenty of evidence to show that, unless sound and solid merit
can be kept constantly in view, a retrograde movement is sure to
occur. The majority of amusement seekers will certainly yield to the
UNITY 27
common propensity for acquiring an appreciation of work which is
meretricious or showy.
This fact is amply substantiated in the persistent evidences sup­
plied by modern theatrical entertainments. The decadence of Comic
Opera, for instance, has reconciled the public to the inanities of
Musical Comedy. Artistic appreciation has thus been replaced by an
undue exaltation of mere cleverness. It is, of course, commonly
supposed that this change has been brought about by the gradual
development of a public demand, which Musical Comedy alone
could supply. In one sense, admittedly, that view is correct. The
demand has gradually arisen, and has been supplied. But it must be
remembered that no possible event can occur without a sufficient
cause. Hence, it is obvious that the growth of a public sentiment can­
not represent the primary cause of any circumstance whatever. There
is something which created that public sentiment, and that some­
thing, whatever it may be, represents the actual cause to which the
result in question must be referred.
In the case we are discussing, there can be no reasonable doubt
that the decline of Comic Opera was the primary cause of the demand
for Musical Comedy. The public turned to the latter simply because
it was the best thing obtainable. People gradually drifted into an
appreciation of its incoherences, because they had nothing better
with which to compare it. Had not the supply of good Comic Opera
been, as it were, cut off at the main, its substitute would never have
been in demand. Fortunately, the present conditions cannot possibly
be permanent. They have no solid foundation in art. They are based
upon a mere fashion, which is bound to go the way of all fashions
alike.
These interpolated remarks may appear to be somewhat beside the
subject of magic. But since all arts are one in principle, the digres­
sion is useful. What has unfortunately happened in the case of musi­
cal entertainments may, only too readily, happen in connection with
magic; unless, by consistent and conscientious effort on the part of
magicians, a high level of artistic excellence is maintained promi­
nently in public view.
Returning to our immediate subject, there is one point to which,
before concluding our remarks upon unity, we must refer. Not­
withstanding the obvious accuracy of the rules we have deduced—or,
perhaps, we should say because of that accuracy—we must not forget
that, in accordance with Rule 1, there may occur special instances,
wherein even the most important laws of unity may be disregarded.
28 OUR MAGIC
Such instances occur chiefly in connection with effects which result
from the operation of cumulative processes; and, therefore, may be
more appropriately discussed later on. We shall revert to this matter
when dealing with such subjects as “Justification,” “Surprise,” and
“Repetition.”
CHAPTER IV
CONSISTENCY

I
n order of importance, the quality which probably ranks next to
Unity is that of Consistency. Indeed, it may be said that, apart
from consistency, unity cannot exist. Still, the subject is suffi­
ciently well defined to warrant its separate consideration.
In relation to magic, the term “consistency” represents a quality
which may be roughly described as propriety in necromantic details.
It implies a general harmony of the various processes, actions,
speeches, and appliances, with the scheme or mode of presentation
with which they are associated. Its absence undoubtedly gives rise
to sources of distraction; which, as we have seen, should be most
carefully avoided, so far as may be possible.
Here again the importance of Rule 2 is shown. Whatever details a
performer may wish or require to introduce, these should all be
subjected to most intent consideration, from a spectator’s point of
view. The supreme question must always be:—“What impression
will the introduction of this detail produce upon the mind of an
ordinary spectator?” No matter how agreeable or even necessary to
the performer may be the inclusion of that detail, he should always
endeavor to understand how it will strike his audience. Such under­
standing is by no means easy to acquire. It can come only with ex­
perience and constant practice. This is a case wherein it is impossible
to “try it on the dog.” The performer must, in the first instance,
form his own conclusions. Nobody else can do much to help him in
arriving at a decision. Above all, he must have the courage of his
convictions, and must boldly take the course which his own reasoning
faculties and his own experience dictate.
In saying this, of course, we are assuming that the performer under­
stands the fundamental principles of his art, and is not just making
a blind guess at the thing. The man who has no accurate knowledge
(and who, therefore, works entirely in the dark) can scarcely be said
to have the right to form any conclusion whatever. But when a
magician understands his art, he should never allow his own reasoned
convictions to be over-ruled by people who know little or nothing of
the subject. Stated in a practical form, the point is this. Persons
attending a rehearsal (whether they are employes, friends or what
[29]
30 OUR MAGIC
not) can never represent a normal audience. Their opinions can form
no guide to the views of the average spectator. From the very circum­
stances of the case, that is clearly impossible. Should any of those
persons, however, have an amount of knowledge and experience com­
parable with that possessed by the performer, that person’s opinion
may be regarded as having some weight. But, even then, the per­
former must not be guided by mere opinion. He must demand ade­
quate reason for any conclusion he may be urged to adopt. In short,
given the possession of real knowledge, he himself must be the final
arbiter of his own procedure. Once a presentation has been submitted
to public criticism, it is easy enough to see wherein improvement is
needed. And, as a matter of fact, there is always found some minor
detail which requires modification. But in the hands of a true artist,
no production ever needs serious revision after being presented to
the public. That is one of the numerous directions wherein a true
artist “scores.”
Given sufficient time and unrestricted opportunity for public
representation, anybody can eventually make his production a suc­
cess; more or less qualified by repeated failure, in public, on previous
occasions. That is to say, in the hands of a duffer, a “magical act”
may be rendered presentable probably by the time it has become
hopelessly discredited and, in the normal course of events, should
be entirely worn out. The artist who knows “the rules of the game”
and therefore understands how to make his productions approxi­
mately perfect in the first instance, certainly has an advantage, the
value of which is very difficult to over-estimate.
In dealing with such questions, the performer can have no better
guidance than that to be derived from the principles of consistency.
And in all points of detail, one may be fairly confident that, if each
action, process and so forth, is appropriate to the general scheme, and
does not detract from the final effect, there is little fear of producing
an undesirable impression. The general rule may be stated thus: —
(6) Let every accessory and incidental detail be kept well “within
the picture,” and in harmony with the general impression which is
intended to be conveyed.
For example, we shall suppose that the presentation is intended to
convey the idea of a more or less serious reproduction of some
legendary marvel, say of a medieval English origin. In that case,
everything said, done, and used, should harmonize with the ideas
generally associated with that period in English history. So far as
possible, everything should be archaeologically correct. Anachron-
CONSISTENCY 31
isms should be studiously avoided. Allusions to modern times and
modern incidents, phrases of modern origin, appliances of modern
pattern, should all be rigidly excluded. The general “atmosphere”
of the presentation should convey the idea of glancing backward
through the pages of history and dwelling, in imagination, among
scenes that have long since passed away.
That is obviously the rational course to pursue, in the case of a
serious reproduction of medieval mysticism. When, however the
intention is to give merely a humorous representation or parody of
ancient tradition, the requirements are altogether different. In such
circumstances, the more anachronisms one can introduce, the more
inconsistencies of sentiment and usage one can perpetrate, the greater
the contrasts of time and place one can suggest, the better will be the
result. But even here the principles of consistency require to be
observed. The presentation should be rendered consistently inconsist­
ent. The performer must not at one moment throw ridicule upon
ancient ideas and methods and the next moment expect his audience
to adopt a serious view of medieval magic. The spectators, of course,
are always aware that the whole is “make-believe.” They have to set
aside their critical faculties in order to enter into the spirt of the
thing. That, as a rule, they are perfectly willing to do, since all they
want is to be entertained. They are ready to take any point of view
the performer may suggest, and to imagine for the moment that the
situation is precisely as the performer has stated. But having “made
believe” to that extent, it cannot be imagined that they will be able
suddenly to change their adopted point of view for another which is
equally unsubstantial and entirely dissimilar, without having all
their make-believe thrown to the winds and their critical faculties
fully revived. No, in such a case the performer’s previous efforts will
have been wasted. The impression sought to be produced will be en­
tirely destroyed, and the spectators will revert to the attitude of
commonplace scepticism they began with. They will have to com­
mence their mental adaptation once again, upon an entirely new
basis, and with the memory of their recently checked self-deception
fresh upon them. Any procedure of this kind can only result in con­
fusion and loss of effect.
Conversely, if a purely modern conception is presented, consistency
demands that all procedure and all adjuncts shall be entirely modern
in character. Were the performer suddenly to depart from his normal
procedure, for instance, and adopt the style of an ancient necro­
mancer, he could never expect to be taken seriously. He would be
32 OUR MAGIC
laughed at openly by his audience if he entertained any such ridicul­
ous notion. That kind of thing can only be done by way of burlesque.
There is, however, one very effective method of combining ancient
legends with modern ideas, which, in addition to the proof it gives
of the soundness of the principles of consistency, is extremely useful
in aiding the modern magician to give his conceptions a definite
application. This consists in the supposed introduction of ancient
magical traditions into the actual affairs of modern life, and the sug­
gestions that the magical theory had a foundation in fact. Usually,
the procedure is somewhat as follows:
It is assumed that the magician has discovered some ancient charm,
talisman, incantation, or spell, with which he decides or is caused to
experiment. On doing so, he finds that apparently the legendary
power attributed to the particular fetish in question are really
genuine, and remain efficacious even in our own age of scepticism.
The possibilities of magical and dramatic effect derivable from a
situation of this kind are practically infinite. This is a fact which
has long been understood and frequently utilized in literature. But,
strange to say, this magical idea has not been developed to any great
extent in connection with the art of magic itself. In plays such as
“Niobe” and “The Brass Bottle,” for example, this conception has
provided a basis for valuable and artistic work. And in relation to
magic, it presents facilities for introducing legitimate and convincing
effects, which should by no means be neglected.
An illusionary presentation, conducted on such lines, may be ren­
dered thoroughly satisfactory with very little difficulty. The effects
produced being apparently substantiated by the authority of early
tradition, and the powers invoked having, as it were, descended
from the age of miracles, all criticism as to sufficiency of cause is
disarmed at once. The sceptical attitude common to modern thought
becomes entirely out of place, and quite irrelevant to the issues in­
volved. Material scepticism becomes subdued to the influences of
that poetic and imaginative faculty which every man possesses, in a
greater or less degree, no matter how uncompromising may be his
professed antagonism to anything beyond the bounds of plain com­
mon sense.
In this connection, however, as in all matters relating to art, it is
necessary to guard against the ever-present danger of allowing
originality to be overshadowed by the attractions of blind imitation.
Indeed, it is conceivable that what we have said on this present point,
unless it is consistently read together with the context, may eventually
CONSISTENCY 33
create a serious hindrance to the progress of our art. There is every
reason to fear that if one magician were to achieve a success with some
particular development of this idea, that form of presentation would
be generally regarded as the essential embodiment of the idea, from
which no departure could be made. And, in answer to all criticisms,
it would be said—“There is nothing to criticize. This is the very
thing with which So-and-so has made so great a success.”
Therein we find typified the common fault which hitherto has de­
based the practice of magic, and has helped to prevent the elevation
of magic to the status of a fine art. Until that fault can be corrected—
until such slavish imitation of successful work becomes a matter for
general and honest condemnation, we must be prepared to admit that
after all is said and done, magic has not risen above the level of mere
mechanical drudgery, the sort of work which is only undertaken by
those who are incapable of doing anything better.
This must not be! In itself, magic is a profession which should
yield pride of place to no other. It demands the highest abilities that
humanity can bestow upon it. Magic will never—can never—debase its
practitioners; but, unfortunately, history shows that too often magic
has been debased by those who practise it.
On this point the first essential to be insisted upon is this: The
very fact that So-and-so has made successful use of certain methods
and devices should ordinarily suffice to prevent all other magicians
from presenting anything which might be regarded as an imitation of
So-and-so’s work. If others can improve upon So-and-so’s production,
well and good. Let them exhibit their new devices, and show clearly
wherein their improvements consist. All honor to them for so doing.
But if all they have to present is a bad imitation of So-and-so’s work,
or merely something which appears almost as clever, let them keep
such inferiorities to themselves. Or if they must needs exhibit their
inferior productions, let them admit their own inferiority and give
credit where credit is due.
It is quite possible that this idea of translating ancient conceptions
into modern workaday life may become hackneyed. Should that occur,
the magician who is a true artist would avoid that idea, as the devil is
said to avoid holy water. When we find the majority of magicians
actuated by such sentiments, we shall be in a position to assert, with­
out fear of contradiction, that magic is truly an art. Until then, we
must admit that the artistic status of magic, however provable it may
be, has not been proved. Magicians generally must be content to earn
mere money-grubbing profits, instead of gaining the fame and for­
34 OUR MAGIC
tune to which they should aspire by right of artistic merit.
Among the most important considerations relating to consistency,
are those arising from the natural connection between cause and
effect. In real life, every effect is produced by some appropriate and
sufficient cause. We are aware that in saying this we merely repeat a
childishly self-evident platitude; but there are reasons. Since in real
life every effect must have its cause, and every sufficient cause must
produce its natural effect, similar conditions should prevail in the
mimic world of the stage. Unfortunately, however, such is often very
far from being the case. Too many persons appear to think that, be­
cause stage effects are necessarily artificial, the natural relationship
between cause and effect can be disregarded upon the stage. Events
are thus made to occur, without the slightest regard to attendant cir­
cumstances. The producer of an entertainment very commonly dic­
tates the occurrence of an event, simply because he wants that event
to happen and for no other reason whatever. He does not trouble him­
self as to whether or not, in the circumstances revealed, that event
would naturally happen or might possibly happen. Not a bit of it!
He wants that thing to happen, and for him that is reason enough.
Consequently, that thing is made to happen, no matter how incon­
sistent with previous events its occurrence may be.
This is a fault which is extremely prevalent in modern stage pro­
ductions of every class. It is none the less reprehensible on that ac­
count. On the contrary, the more often it is allowed to appear, the
more culpable are those who permit such an obvious defect to exist
in their presentations. Particularly so, because the fault is one that
may be corrected with the utmost ease. Stage effects, being only ap­
parently real, require only apparently sufficient causes; and such
causes undoubtedly should be introduced in every stage production.
The producer, of course, can do precisely as he likes in such matters.
But, whenever he introduces an effect, let him at the same time
introduce a valid cause. It is easy enough to do, and there is no excuse
for neglecting to do it. The artificiality of stage work is always bound
to cross the footlights in ample measure. The spectators are always
sufficiently conscious of it, without having it rubbed in by unskilful
workmanship. And whenever stagecraft is divorced from consistency,
especially in the relations between cause and effect, the result is
bound to represent the rubbing-in of a deleterious compound, al­
ready too liberally applied.
From these considerations a general rule, of extreme simplicity,
may be deduced:—
CONSISTENCY 35
(7) Let nothing occur without an apparently substantial cause, and
let every potential cause produce some apparently consequent effect.
If things occur without any apparent reason, stage work can never
be made really convincing. If things are done which, although they
seem likely to produce some marked result (and, by the audience,
must be regarded as having that intention), do not lead to any result
whatever, stage work can never be made really effective. In the
former case, there is a paucity of the necessary material. In the latter,
there is a redundancy of useless detail. In neither case is there the
consistency which art demands; but, in both cases, there is bound to
be distraction, loss of effect, and lack of unity.
That such points as these are of material importance in the art of
magic, cannot be denied by any magician who aspires to the rank of
a true artist. It is just these little things which make all the difference
between good work and bad. They are but little things, easily at­
tended to; yet, after all is said and done, they are the things which
distinguish art from claptrap. To include them in a presentation
adds but little more to the performer’s efforts. Still:—
“And that little more, and how much it is . . .
And that little less, and what worlds away.”
—Browning, ‘‘By the Fireside.”
The requirements of consistency, broadly speaking, may be sum­
marized as follows:
Everything done, used, and introduced should be:
(a) Consistent with the “atmosphere” of the presentation.
(b) Consistent with each situation, as revealed.
(c) Consistent with subsequent events.
Everything that occurs should be:
(a) Consistent with the procedure adopted.
(b) Consistent with causes understood by the spectators.
(c) Consistent with the final impression intended to be produced.
CHAPTER V
JUSTIFICATION

F
rom what has already been deduced in the course of our in­
quiry, we perceive that since, on occasion, specific rules may be
disregarded, there arises a very pertinent question. How may
we determine the extent to which, in various circumstances, a dis­
regard of reasoned conclusions is permissible? Broadly speaking, of
course, we may say that if we introduce details which are not in ac­
cordance with accepted rules, we must always be able to justify our
action. In no case must we be content with mere excuses. To frame
excuses is foreign to the procedure of an artist, because “qui s’excuse,
s’accuse.” His feeblest plea must never fall below the level of prova­
ble justification. Such obvious facts, however, provide but little
guidance. Therefore, we must now endeavor to ascertain, with reason­
able accuracy, the conditions wherein justification may be proved.
As stated in our first rule, no departure from accepted principles
should be made without some special reason. Among such reasons,
there is one of preeminent importance; that is, the production of
some particular effect which otherwise would be impossible. The
impossibility, however, should be clearly manifest. If, by any means,
the production of that effect can be brought about in conformity
with established principles, no departure from those principles can
be justified. In any such case, the only possible source of justification
is absolute necessity.
If such fundamental considerations were the only matters involved,
the question of justification would be one of extreme simplicity. But
unfortunately the case is far otherwise. In the majority of instances,
justification cannot be pleaded on the ground of absolute necessity.
Given the aid of every possible facility, a magician could seldom
justify the departure from the normal principles of his art. But, as a
matter of fact, magicians usually perform under conditions of an
extremely unfavorable nature. Therefore, we find the most common
ground for justification is not absolute necessity but present expedi­
ency. Rules are broken, not because the effect produced demands
their violation, but because circumstances render such violation
expedient. Thus, justification becomes subject to the force of cir­
cumstances. At the same time, it must be remembered, valid justifica­
tion can only exist when the force of circumstances is irresistible.
[36]
JUSTIFICATION 37
Suppose, for example, a magician performing at a theater where
every facility is available, produces an act which is artistically perfect.
Then, suppose that the magician is compelled to transfer his act to
another theater, where such favorable conditions do not exist; in
order to produce his act at the second theater, he may have to in­
troduce some detail which, according to accepted principles, is
inartistic. Or he may have to omit some important detail, and thereby
render his presentation artistically incomplete. In either case, his pro­
cedure can undoubtedly be justified on the ground of expediency.
He does as he does, not because of essential necessity, but because the
force of circumstances is too great to be overcome. The obvious
rule is: —
(8) Always remember that avoidable defects are incapable of
justification.
This rule applies equally to great matters and to small, to broad
effects and minute details. Although in some particular respect de­
parture from accepted rule may be justified, it does not follow that
the principle violated is thereby rendered negligible for the time
being. On the contrary, the circumstances demand that every care be
taken to insure that the extent of departure shall be as limited as
possible. Care should be taken to add every available perfection, in
other respects, with a view to compensating for the unavoidably de­
fective procedure adopted. A specific rule may be stated thus:—
(9) Always remember that a plea of justification is ordinarily an
acknowledgment of error, and consequently demands every possible
reparation.
That is to say, when one is obliged to fall back upon the aid of
justification, one should use every available means for correcting any
deficiency that may be brought into evidence. The greater the
divergence from proper and effective methods, the greater the
necessity for compensating perfections. If we are compelled to intro­
duce imperfections, they should be reduced to the utmost possible
minimum, disguised in every possible manner, and compensated for
by the inclusion of every possible perfection of subsidiary detail. By
such means, the inevitable fault may be rendered practically im­
perceptible.
Herein we discover the reason why so many productions, inartistic
in themselves, prove to be quite effective before an average audience.
With knowledge derived from a process of trial and error, performers
are enabled to disguise, to a great extent, the technical faults of their
productions. Thus, in course of time, subsidiary perfections become
38 OUR MAGIC
so augmented as to render a very faulty presentation acceptable to
the general public. That, however, provides no justification for
avoidable faults. However good a faulty performance may appear to
the uninitiated, it would appear still better were the faults removed.
The majority of spectators may not know why the thing is better in
its more perfect form. They may not understand the reasons which
have dictated the alterations made. But the performer, at any rate,
ought to know when his presentation is defective, and should under­
stand how to remove avoidable defects.
There are always two ways of doing anything—a right and a wrong
way. Any ignoramus can bungle about with a thing until eventually
he makes it pass muster among those who know as little as himself.
But even then the thing will not be right in the eyes of an expert.
Anything done in the wrong way can never be right in itself. The only
advantage about it is that the wrong way does not have to be learned.
It is available to all who prefer it; but unfortunately it does not lead
to perfection. Not only so, it eventually leads to far more trouble
than would be involved in learning the right way first of all.
Further than this, we must not lose sight of the fact that there is a
question of principle involved. An artist prefers to work in the right
way, if only to show that he knows how the work should be done.
Even though some particular effect could be produced in the wrong
way, that would be no excuse for using faulty methods.
The end cannot justify the means, if the proper means would serve
as well as the defective means actually employed. For as Aristotle
says: —
“If, indeed, this end might as well, or nearly as well, have been at­
tained, without departing from the principles of the particular art in
question, that fault, in that case, could not be justified; since faults of
every kind should, if possible, be avoided.”—Poetics, Part IV, Chap. II.
To this, we may add that when, as is usually the case, the end may
be attained more readily and more perfectly by adhering to the prin­
ciples of our particular art, there is not even a plausible excuse for
defective workmanship. Indeed, the only possible excuse is ignorance.
Those who prefer, by implication, to raise that plea are of course quite
welcome to that dubious privilege. An artist would rather suffer
torture than do anything of the kind. “Good enough for the public”
is ample justification for defects which are difficult to overcome; but,
when the observance of recognized principles would be just as easy,
and just as effective, “Good enough for the public” becomes the plea
JUSTIFICATION 39
of either an ignoramus or a fool. In such an event, the performer may
be perfectly sure that he appears in one or other of those characters.
If he is content to do so, well and good! That is entirely his affair. Our
present inquiry does not concern him. For all that, we can see there
is no justification for the attitude he has adopted.
Although, as already mentioned, a magician’s stage surroundings
are of prime importance in this connection, they are far from being
the only ground for justification. The diversities of taste and appre­
ciation shown by various types of audiences may equally justify some
occasional divergence from normal procedure. This has been previ­
ously suggested by our deductions concerning the subject of unity.
We may now with advantage develop the point still further.
Taking a practical instance, we will suppose a magician intends
to present (say) “The Rising Cards,’’ and has at command two
methods of performing that trick. One of those methods, let us say,
is well known to magicians but very effective to the public. The
other method does not appeal to the public so strongly, but entirely
puzzles magicians. In reality, of course, he has two distinct tricks,
similar in effect. That fact would be understood by his fellow-crafts­
men; but, to the public, either trick would be simply “The Rising
Cards.” Then the question is, which method should the performer
1
employ?
The answer must depend upon the kind of audience with which
he has to deal. To an audience of conjurers he would naturally pre­
sent the superior method. The other would only bore his spectators.
But to the general public, apart from some special reason to the
contrary, he should present the more familiar yet more effective
method, less perfect though it may be. To the public, either method
would be quite inexplicable; and, therefore, there would be every
justification for choosing that which appeals to the public more
highly. Indeed, one might almost say that, in the circumstances, the
use of the superior method would hardly be justified, for the simple
reason that it would fail to produce its due effect.
In the practice of an art, one must always keep in view the fact that,
in the absence of an effective appeal to the imagination, art is, to all
intents and purposes, non-existent. It is true that a poet, a painter or
1 It must be remembered that, to the public—and unfortunately, to the press—
either the effect, or some prominent feature of a trick, is the trick itself. We commonly
hear of “The Vanishing Lady,” “The Box Trick,” “The Cabinet Trick,” “The Ghost
Illusion,” “The Slate Trick,” and so on. Apparently, most people cannot imagine that
more than one trick may be associated with a certain kind of effect or a particular form
of appliance.
40 OUR MAGIC
a sculptor may produce a work of art which contemporary opinion
may condemn, and future ages may approve beyond measure. But
suppose that, disheartened by present failure, the artist were to
destroy the work he had produced, the result would be precisely as
though that work had never been attempted. It came into a momen­
tary existence, it made no appeal to the minds of those who saw it,
and it disappeared completely.
The work, however meritorious it may have been, was but wasted
effort. It did not serve the cause of art in the remotest degree. It was
but ephemeral in its existence, and failed to evoke contemporary ap­
proval. In short, it was useless.
Precisely analogous is the case of a magician who presents work
which his audiences cannot appreciate. Apart from its presentation,
the art of magic has no sensible existence. It is naturally ephemeral,
and demands instant appreciation.
Primarily, the true function of any art is not the promotion of its
own advancement, but the promotion of enjoyment and the eleva­
tion of the intelligence of mankind. In performing such functions, its
own advancement is automatically achieved. That being so, it must
be useless to exhibit any ephemeral achievement in art which, to
those who see it, is not effective. Such presentations have no artistic
value. They can neither serve to raise the level of human intelligence,
nor to promote human enjoyment.
We have previously referred to the necessity for maintaining as
high a level of merit as possible. But at the same time, we have
pointed out there is every reason for bearing in mind the natural
limitations of certain audiences. By all means let people see good
work—the best they are capable of appreciating—on every possible
occasion. But work which is too good for them is, practically, as
valueless as that which is not good enough. Within the capacity of a
magician’s audience, the higher he rises the greater will be the appre­
ciation accorded to his work. Beyond that prescribed limit, however,
the higher he rises the less will be the value of his achievement.
It has been said very justly that every virtue is, as it were, a middle
course between two opposite vices. Thus, courage is midway between
cowardice and rashness; thrift is midway between acquisitiveness and
improvidence; morality is midway between prudery and licentious­
ness; and so forth. In like manner, justification stands half-way be­
tween the faults of pedantry, on the one hand, and the failures of
ignorance, on the other.
JUSTIFICATION 41
The rule should be: —
(10) Cut your coat according to your cloth, but spare no pains in
the cutting, or your procedure cannot be justified.
The foregoing considerations enable us to discuss, upon a more
definite basis, the question of dual effect, already mentioned in con­
nection with the subject of unity. We can now readily understand
that, in certain circumstances, two simultaneous developments may
be presented in such a manner as to justify the departure from the
principles of unity. We can see that justification may be proved on
various grounds of expediency. For example, one of two magical
feats may add a climax to the entire presentation, and thus aid the
general impression produced in the minds of spectators. Or, on the
other hand, the development of one effect may involve certain periods
of time which, to the public, would appear vacant, were they not
filled in with the processes connected with the second effect. In any
case, however, the dual presentation must not involve serious divi­
sion of interest, or the total result will be neither artistic nor effec­
tive. We shall have to return to this subject later on; and, therefore,
we need not consider it further at present.
We may conclude our remarks upon justification by summarizing
the rational conclusions to be deduced from the facts stated. There is
no need for recapitulating all the minor points we have reviewed.
It is only necessary to emphasize the main features of our inquiry,
as follows:
In order to know what may or may not be justified, it is essential
to acquire an understanding of the purposes of art, and the manner
in which those purposes can best be fulfilled. Hence the importance
of systematic inquiry and the need for accurate reasoning. Every
instance wherein justification has to be claimed represents a special
problem, requiring to be dealt with in accordance with the facts of the
case. The true solution cannot be arrived at by the aid of mere
opinion. The only reliable source of evidence is knowledge. That
which serves the purposes of art in the best manner available, is
justified. That which does not so serve the purposes of art, is incapa­
ble of justification.
We argue that, in everything he does, a magician should be able to
demonstrate the grounds upon which he claims that the procedure is
either artistically correct or absolutely justified. To an artist, good
enough” is never good enough. His work must be correct; or, failing
that, as nearly correct as circumstances permit.
CHAPTER VI
SURPRISE AND REPETITION
e now proceed to deal with two diametrically opposite
methods of producing effect, each method being the
converse and complement of the other. Upon reflection
it will become evident that, as a rule, the effect produced by a magical
presentation depends upon the proper employment of one or other
of the two principles now to be considered. In other words, a magical
effect is generally associated with some form of surprise or is derived
from some degree of repetition. Since the principles involved in those
two methods of procedure are mutally antagonistic, they can seldom
be used in combination. Although a certain element of surprise may
enter into the cumulative effect produced by repetition, it is clearly
impossible to repeat a startling surprise. These examples may best be
illustrated by concrete examples, familiar to us all. We shall at once,
then, cite examples which we think will serve to make our reasoning
clear. It must be borne in mind, however, that this present discussion
has to be taken in conjuction with that which follows next—i.e., the
subject of “Gradual Transition.”
As our first example, we take a well-known effect which depends
upon the creation of surprise. For this purpose, nothing could serve
better than the illusion known as “The Vanishing Lady,” invented
by Buatier de Kolta, reproduced by various other magicians, and
consistently mangled, for years, by duffers of every nationality. The
“dry bones” of this feat, as Professor Hoffmann would say, are familiar
to us all. So also is the effective nature of the presentation, when
properly carried out.
If we give even a moment’s thought to the question, we realize the
impossibility of associating such a feat with anything in the nature
of repetition. The effect produced is bound to be either a surprise or
a disappointment. If the performance does not culminate in a sur­
prise, it becomes an abject failure—“condemned to eternal redemp­
tion,” as Dogberry says. No man who ever stood before an audience
would be so mad as to repeat it, in the hope of doing better next
time and thus saving his credit. The audience would simply laugh
him off the stage in such a case.
Herein, we perceive the characteristic feature of such presenta­
tions. They depend upon the sudden creation of some mysterious
[42]
SURPRISE AND REPETITION 43
change of condition or change of place. The effect must be instantane­
ous. There is no opportunity for cumulative methods of building up
an effect, step by step.
Incidentally, the preceding paragraph suggests a general definition
of the characteristic feature of any magical feat—that which distin­
guishes magical effects from those produced by other arts. Probably
no better definition than this can be found: Something or somebody
is caused to pass mysteriously from one place or condition to another.
That is what invariably happens when a magical feat is performed.
We cannot do any single magical thing which that sentence does not
broadly describe. In view of this definition, we are led to appreciate
the essential limitations of the magic art. And, at the same time, we
are impressed with the necessity for knowing the best means for
utilizing the scanty material at our disposal. The difficulty of produc­
ing a new magical effect is about equivalent to that of inventing a
new proposition in Euclid. That, however, is a matter for congratu­
lation, rather than otherwise. The greater the difficulty, the greater
the merit. It is a fact which should add much to the dignity of our
art. In our present inquiry, the most important point to be remem­
bered is this: Realizing the extreme difficulty of raising any worthy
superstructure upon foundations so narrow, we have every reason to
be careful in our architecture.
Turning to the second principle under discussion we may quote,
for example, the well-known feat of catching coins in the air. In a
performance such as this, it is evident that the element of actual sur­
prise is practically absent. The mere fact of apparently catching a
coin, once only, would produce no effect at all. In itself, the feat is so
small, as compared with magicians’ other works, that it would leave
even the most unsophisticated spectator quite unimpressed. But by
repeating the process again and again, spectators become gradually
imbued with a sense of mystification. There is no surprise—there can
be none; because every time the performer raises his hand, the catch­
ing of a coin is foreseen. Yet, as time goes on, the spectators are com­
pelled to form the mental query, “Where in the world does he get all
those coins?” The more of them he produces, the greater is the effect
upon his audience—within due limits, of course. No true artist would
ever be guilty of continuing his repetitions to the point of wearisome­
ness.
In this typical instance, we recognize the characteristic operation
of the principle of repetition, and the method of utilizing that princi­
ple for the production of a cumulative effect. We can see that, in per­
44 OUR MAGIC
forming a small manipulation as an isolated occurrence, the principle
of surprise cannot possibly be brought into operation. But, by con­
tinued repetition of that insignificant feat, one is enabled to build up
an impression of magical achievement, the magnitude of which is
out of all proportion to the cause which produced it.
Thus, we may safely lay down a rule to the following effect:—
(11) Always remember that a notable surprise is incapable of
repetition; and that the repetition of an effect, of any kind whatever,
cannot create surprise.
As a further example of the cumulative effect to be gained by repe­
tition, we may here point out the well-known efficiency of a catch­
word, as a means of attaining effect. There is no walk of life in which
the catchword is not a factor of at least occasional importance. Even
in matters which affect the public welfare it is often exploited in a
manner so puerile and so vulgar that, to anyone who understands the
game, the process becomes absolutely disgusting. Still, as a means of
legitimate entertainment, and in the honest fulfillment of artistic
purposes, the catchword has merits which should not be neglected.
Take, for instance, Dr. Lynn’s1 “That’s how it’s done!” or Buatier de
Kolta’s “Isn’t it wonderful?” Those phrases have become classic.
They have done yeoman service, not only to their respective authors,
but also to many lesser men who have adopted the phrases—generally
without either permission or acknowledgment. The first time such a
phrase is used, it has little effect, if any. The second time, it receives
just a mild appreciation. The third time, the audience may smile.
The fourth time, the words cause a laugh. The fifth and all subse­
quent repetitions create a roar.
There we have in a nutshell all requisite proof as to the value of
cumulative effect. At the same time we are enabled to understand the
broad distinction to be drawn between the respective applications of
surprise and repetition. We are also enabled to understand the
cogency of a general rule, which may be stated thus: —
(12) A minor conception ordinarily demands the cumulative effect
of repetition; a conception important in itself should usually create
a distinct surprise.
Here we may revert to the question of dual presentation, previ-
1 The author seems to be in error in this statement about Buatier de Kolta, having
apparently confused that famous performer with another celebrated magician, Charles
Bertram. So far as we know, de Kolta never employed the phrase “Isn’t it wonderful?”
in his programs; but Bertram most certainly used these words, both in his entertain­
ments and as the title to a book of his which was published in 1896 by Swan Son-
nenschein & Company, Ltd., of London. P.F.
SURPRISE AND REPETITION 45
ously discussed. Although the antagonistic elements of surprise and
repetition can scarcely be combined to produce a single effect, we
may readily combine them in a presentation which comprises a dual
effect. And beyond doubt that may be done, not only without con­
fusion, but also with a marked amplification of the impression cre­
ated.
From these considerations, the following rule may be deduced:—
(13) The simultaneous presentation of two independent feats is
permissible when one of them is associated with cumulative effect
and the other results in a final surprise.
When we think about the matter, it certainly seems rather strange
that, although one may have heard a full description of some magi­
cal or dramatic surprise, such foreknowledge does not detract appre­
ciably from the impression one receives on witnessing the perform­
ance. Even though one may have witnessed a play or a magical
production many times, one does not altogether lose the impression
intended. Commentators have frequently noted this, in relation to
dramatic performances; and, no doubt, the true explanation is that
originally given by Marmontel in 1787. He says, in his quaint, old-
world French—“La marche de l'action en ecarte la reminifcence:
l'impression de ce que l’on voit empeche de reflechir a ce que l’on
fcait.”We are too much absorbed in the action to think of previous
information. What we see prevents us from reflecting upon what we
know.
A guiding principle adopted by Buatier de Kolta may here be
mentioned, with advantage. On many occasions, de Kolta and one
of the present writers had animated discussions upon this and simi­
lar points. One of his most definite and unalterable opinions was
that, if an audience had any idea of what was about to happen, there
could be no surprise and consequently no effect could be made upon
the minds of spectators. “An illusionist,” he would often remark,
“should never tell the public what he is going to do. If people know
what is coming, they will not be surprised. If they are not surprised,
there is no effect. The illusion is worth nothing—it is nothing.”
In one sense, de Kolta was probably right; but, regarded as a general
principle, his view of the question is open to serious doubt. His argu­
ment was based upon premises far too narrow. Given ideal condi­
tions, of course, the position he took would be unassailable; but, in
everyday life, an abstract proposition of that kind has very little rela­
tion to the exigencies of practice. With all due deference to the
46 OUR MAGIC
opinion of a magician so eminent as Buatier de Kolta, we contend
that in practice one’s procedure must be governed to a great extent
by expediency. We have already shown that hard and fast rules can­
not be prescribed in any branch of art. Contingent circumstances
must always to taken into account. Theory, reduced to practice, is a
useful guide—but nothing more. Divorced from practice, theory be­
comes a mere will-o’-the-wisp, the pursuit of which is but waste of
time for the average man.
The essential fallacy of the principle just now discussed may be
readily shown by de Kolta’s own procedure. When, for instance, an
illusion is described as “The Vanishing Lady,’’ or “L’Escamotage
d’une Personne Vivante,” how can one hope to conceal the fact that
the lady will vanish, or that the living person will be subject to
jugglery? The title itself prevents any such possibility. Yet, at the
same time, the title provides more than half the attraction exercised
upon the public. It would be absurd not to make the revelation
which unavoidably has to be made before complete success can be
achieved.
There is, however, one direction in which, as we previously indi­
cated, this principle may be usefully applied. Marmontel gives us
the key to this, in the quotation we have made from his writings. The
action in progress before the spectators is that which mainly de­
termines the impression produced. Previous knowledge or informa­
tion can have but little influence on the final result. A really artistic
presentation will so largely absorb one’s attention that the existence
or absence of foreknowledge becomes, comparatively speaking, a
negligible factor. Thus, there is obviously much reason for avoiding,
so far as circumstances permit, the immediate revelation of what is
coming. In fact, from the various points recently considered, we may
evolve a rule of some occasional importance: —
(14) Unless good reason can be shown, never explain, upon the
stage, precisely what you are about to accomplish.
In effect, this rule represents the true application of de Kolta’s
advice. “Unless good reason can be shown”—therein lies the whole
crux of the matter. But very often good reason can be shown. At
times, indeed, it would be the height of folly for a performer not to
explain most fully the precise details of the effect he is about to pro­
duce. A case of this kind, for instance, would arise when the effect
is small in actual dimensions but very startling if completely under­
stood. Every one of us can call to mind effects which, unless explicitly
described beforehand, would never be thoroughly appreciated. An
SURPRISE AND REPETITION 47
illustration of this fact is the decanter and handkerchief trick, where­
in a handkerchief suddenly disappears from one glass vessel and
reappears in another. The common experience of every magician will
prove that such a presentation loses nothing by describing the effect
beforehand. On the contrary, the small dimensions of the articles
employed may be said to necessitate a complete disclosure of the
coming events, in order to secure their immediate appreciation.
Again, in the case of a highly important and sensational illusion,
demanding close attention on the part of the audience, one may often
be well advised in making a theoretically premature revelation of
one’s intentions. When everybody in the civilized world has heard
all about the thing, there may not be much disadvantage in taking the
present spectators into one’s confidence. They know what is coming,
and the effect may perhaps be greatly enhanced if they are told
exactly what to expect. In certain cases of this kind, it is true, the
performer might produce unqualified surprise in the first few audi­
ences to whom he presents the effect. But, after that, such surprise
becomes impossible. The newspapers have given full descriptions of
the performance—the wires and cables have spread the information
broadcast throughout the world. Consequently, the moment he be­
gins his introduction “even the cats” know what is coming. Among
the whole crowd of spectators, the only point of interest is to “see it
done.”
Conclusive proof of the occasional necessity for complete disclosure
of what is about to take place, is provided by such presentations as
that of the world-renowned “Box Trick.” The very essence of the
effect consists in the fact that spectators are fully informed of what is
intended to be done and are allowed to try to discover the means
whereby the feat will be accomplished. Without such foreknowledge
and opportunity for previous investigation, the effect would be lost.
They are told that a performer will escape from the box, in spite of
the bonds with which it will be secured. They are told that the feat is
performed by means of a trick in the construction of the box. They
are invited to discover that trick, if they can. Having failed to make
such discovery, their amazement when the feat is subsequently ac­
complished is unbounded. In no other way could the full effect of the
invention be attained. Complete premonition is the only possible
means for securing due appreciation of any such performance.
Reticence, in a case of this kind, would be simply fatal to the ultimate
effect, and therefore inartistic to the last degree. Hence in such a case
the performer’s best course surely must be to emphasize the salient
48 OUR MAGIC
feature of his presentation, and to impress upon his audiences the
extraordinary nature of the things he intends to show them.
In this, of course, as in all other matters, one’s procedure must be
governed by circumstances. But we may safely say that, nine times out
of ten, when a performer presents an illusion of world-wide renown,
he can lose but little and may gain much by openly confessing his
intentions. At such a time, his attitude toward the public, for all
practical purposes, may safely be, “I am going to show you something
which has startled the world, and would startle you immensely if
you did not know what is coming. When you have seen it done, you
will be able to imagine how much you would have been surprised
if you had not already heard about it.” In response to that suggestion,
the audience is almost certain to adopt an acquiescent attitude of
mind; and accordingly the final effect will resemble that produced
by absolute surprise.
It is owing to similar causes that dramatic situations such as that
relating to “Hawkshaw” remain thoroughly impressive, even to those
most familiar with them. Familiarity does not breed contempt, be­
cause the action in progress diverts the spectator’s attention from
what he knows, and renders him interested only in “seeing it done.”
He is compelled to enter into the spirit of the performance, and to
allow full play to his imagination.
The last sentence forcibly recalls an opinion which the present
writers have long entertained, and which can do no harm if stated.
At the worst, it can but cause a momentary digression. It relates to the
definition of art in the abstract. In the early portion of our inquiry,
we touched upon the great difficulty of answering, and the numerous
attempts made to answer, the question “What is Art?” To make an­
other attempt may be to display unjustifiable temerity, but here it is:
Art is work which stimulates imagination. Be that as it may, however,
there can be no doubt that it is the exercise of imagination which
prevents an artistic effect from being destroyed by foreknowledge—
a fact well worth remembering.
CHAPTER VII
EFFECTS OF TRANSITION

I
n addition to the two chief classes of effect, respectively associated
with surprise and repetition, there is a third to which reference
has been previously made—the class which depends upon the
gradual and visible development of some mysterious change. A typi­
cal example is the so-called “Pepper’s Ghost” effect, invented by
Silvester some forty years ago. Another familiar type is that of “The
Growth of Flowers.” But there can be no possibility of mistaking
the classification of such effects as should be placed in this category.
They are characterized by the distinctive feature of comparatively
slow progression, in contrast to the sudden effects associated with
the methods of surprise.
Although less often employed than the two chief classes of magical
effect, the effects of transition are by no means of less importance
from an artistic point of view. Indeed, owing to the mere fact of
their comparative rarity, they appeal strongly to an artist’s apprecia­
tion. They should be less liable to become hackneyed, and the diffi­
culty of inventing novelties in connection with them should enhance
their value as a class.
Unfortunately, however, such is far from being the case in actual
practice. It ought to be so, but it is not. In this, as in so many other
instances, “ought stands for nought.” The very rarity of original pro­
ductions of this kind tends to defeat its own ends. There are so few
of them, and so many want to present them, that a new effect of transi­
tion is liable to become worked to death in a very short time. Further,
it must be remembered that a rare effect usually creates a far greater
degree of public excitement than one of more stereotyped form. It is
more talked about, more people come to see it, and thus it more
quickly becomes stale. Nevertheless, in this class of effect there still
exist great possibilities, both artistically and financially. There is still
a wide field of useful work in this direction, which may be found
well worthy of cultivation.
In illusions based upon effects of transition, the question of artistic
treatment is of especial importance. Indeed, now and then, the prob­
lem of presenting them in the best possible way to insure due appre­
ciation is one of extreme difficulty. The instant appeal to a spectator’s
[49]
50 OUR MAGIC
perception which naturally attends a surprise is entirely lacking. The
cumulative effect built up, step by step, in the case of a repetition
is equally unavailable. It follows, therefore, that the adequate
presentation of an effect of transition usually involves, in some respect
or other, procedure which differs more or less from that which would
be advisable in other conditions. We shall endeavor to ascertain,
with the aid of common sense and practical experience, the nature
of the principles which should govern our procedure when dealing
with effects of this special class.
Here we may at once set down a rule which common sense and
experience must inevitably endorse to the fullest possible degree.
Yet, at the same time, unless the dictates of those able guides are
clearly understood and remembered, the principle underlying that
rule may easily become lost to sight. Hence the necessity for a
definite statement, as follows:—
(15) When presenting an effect of pure transition, the first and
most important essential is the avoidance of every possible cause of
distraction.
Let there be no mistake about this. Although the rule is merely a
specific application of the principle embodied in Rule 4, the extreme
importance of that principle in the present instance justifies the
utmost insistence upon the necessity for keeping it in view. Stated
plainly and simply, the fact to be remembered is that, while an effect
of transition is in progress, nothing else of importance should be
allowed to occur—that is to say, nothing which tends to produce a
definite impression upon the minds of the spectators. There should
be no sudden change in any of the conditions attending the de­
velopment of the effect. Only such movements and sounds as accom­
pany the commencement of the transition should be permitted to
occur; and, conversely, such sounds and movements should continue
until the effect has been completed.
For example, an accompaniment of soft and flowing melody is a
most useful adjunct to effects of transition. Rhythmic and continuous
movements on the part of the performer—as, for example, mesmeric
passes or silent incantations—are also advantageous, as a rule. But
if such adjuncts are to be employed, they should accompany the
transition from start to finish. The only case in which a departure
from the letter of this law is advisable, is when the effect occupies
but little time and culminates in a definite surprise. Say, for instance,
on the stage there were a table with the cloth laid for a meal. The
center of the cloth rises, and gradually the figure of a man develops
EFFECTS OF TRANSITION 51
beneath it. The figure throws off the cloth and stands revealed, let
us say, as Mephistopheles. In such a case, the final throwing off of
the cloth brings a sudden revelation—a surprise. Consequently, dur­
ing the development of the figure, movements and exclamations,
directing attention to what is happening may advantageously accom­
pany the progress of affairs, and may render the climax all the more
effective. Therefore, we may say: —
(16) When an effect of transition ends with a sudden revelation
or surprise, the course of transition should usually be punctuated by
actions or sounds leading up to and accentuating the final im­
pression.
Reverting to Rule 13 (which relates to effects, purely, of transi­
tion), there is one consideration which should not be overlooked.
It is a point which indicates the essentially different conditions re­
spectively associated with transitions pure and simple, and transi­
tions culminating in an effect of surprise. In effects of simple transi­
tion, such as the gradual fading away of a spirit form, there is an
absence of any marked change such as is generally associated with
magical presentations. Therefore, without some prompting of their
intelligence, the spectators may fail to observe the commencement
of the process, or may be unable to realize precisely when it has
ended. One can never count upon the exercise of either intelligence
or perspicacity on the part of an audience. So, unless steps are taken
to indicate definitely what is the nature of the intended effect, and to
point out precisely where it begins and where it ends, a transition,
however marvelous, may fall flat. The spectators may realize the
truth of the matter after they have gone home, but that is not good
enough for artistic purposes. They must, if possible, be made to
understand what they see, the moment they see it. For these reasons,
we may advisably prescribe the rule that:—
(17) In every effect of pure transition, the beginning and end of
the process involved should be distinctly indicated by some coincident
occurrence.
That is to say, when such an effect is about to be introduced, its
presentation should be subject to most careful preparation. It should
be prefaced by stage business which will impress upon spectators the
fact that something of a very unusual character is about to happen.
Their minds should receive the impression that a weird and mys­
terious effect, demanding close attention, is on the point of being
shown. And at the moment when transition commences, there
should occur a definite halt in the subsidiary action—a distinct point
52 OUR MAGIC
of demarcation, showing that the interesting period has begun. In
like manner, at the end of the transition, there should be a similar
(or, rather, a converse) break in the proceedings, showing that what
the audience was specially required to observe has been done. Ordi­
narily, the most suitable stage business for these two respective
occasions is, in effect, such as will suggest the following idea. When
the transition begins, the idea suggested should be, “Look! some­
thing mysterious is going to happen over there. What will it be?”
When the effect has been shown, the suggestion should be, “Now
you know what was coming, because you have seen it done and have
watched the process from beginning to end.”
As an apt illustration, we may mention the appearing to Hamlet
of his father’s ghost. The previous dialog has fully prepared the
spectators for what they are about to see. Indeed, Hamlet has gone
to the battlements for the express purpose of meeting with the
spirit form of his father. All are expecting the ghost to appear. What
happens, so far as our present inquiry is concerned, is given by Shake­
speare in two exclamations and a stage-direction, thus:—
“Horatio— Look, my lord, it comes!
(Enter Ghost.)
“Hamlet—Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!”

Now, translating “Enter Ghost” as meaning the gradual materiali­

zation of a spirit form, we cannot help seeing how well the two
exclamations serve their respective purposes. Horatio directly calls
attention to the misty outline in course of formation; and, when
the development has matured, Hamlet’s words leave no doubt that
the figure now standing before him represents the fulfilment of his
expectation, and also that of every onlooker. There is no possibility
of mistaking the situation. The effect is complete. Nobody can pos­
sibly anticipate any further development, for the moment.
Reduced to their most practical form, the facts of this present
discussion may be stated thus: When effects of transition are pre­
sented, the audience must be shown when to look, where to look,
and when to applaud. If left to discover those things for themselves,
spectators may almost certainly be expected to fail in the discovery.
Nine times out of ten, spectators cannot be relied upon to see things
which stare them in the face, or to understand things which are as
simple as A B C. This is a fact to which some exponents of magic
owe a lifelong debt of gratitude; since, but for that fact, they could
never hold up their heads in public. And to speak the entire truth,
EFFECTS OF TRANSITION 53
it is a fact in which even the most skilled magicians find comfort
when things go wrong.
But we cannot have it both ways. We cannot expect the public
to keep a bright lookout for things we want them to see, and, at
the same time, preserve their normal blindness to the things we want
to conceal. The art of magic essentially depends for its success upon
the skilful maneuvering which enables a performer to subdue the
critical and observant faculties of his audiences. The subjugation of
those faculties is the first necessity imposed upon him by his art.
After that comes the process of suggestion, whereby his audiences
are led to adopt the particular attitude of mind he wishes them to
assume at any moment. It naturally follows that, when we have
lulled a spectator’s reasoning powers into a state of comparative
rest, it is absurd to expect that he will at once grasp any idea which,
in the ordinary course, would occur to him. We must always remem­
ber that, having induced a marked condition of mental receptivity,
we cannot expect our subjects to conceive ideas other than those we
convey, either directly or by suggestion. It is impossible that, at
one and the same time, spectators can think as we want them to and
also think as they ordinarily would. This being the case, it is easy
to see how necessary it is to make everything clear to one’s audience;
even though, in order to do this, one may sometimes be compelled
to state exactly what is about to take place.
CHAPTER VIII
CLIMAX
his branch of our inquiry brings us to a point where we
meet with a distinct difference between the respective re­
quirements of Magic and Drama. We find that, in this in­
stance, the two sets of conditions are entirely dissimilar. Therefore,
except by way of antithesis, the considerations which govern one case
form no guide to rational procedure in the other. But, at the same
time, this very divergence provides a source of useful information.
We gain a better understanding of our own art, if we ascertain the
differences which distinguish its requirements from those of an art
more or less allied to it. Thus, we may with advantage make a brief
digression from our direct course, in order to study “climax” from
a dramatic standpoint. By so doing, we shall obtain a truer concep­
tion of the principles relating to our own particular case.
Broadly speaking, the primary basis of drama consists in the fulfil­
ment of two vitally essential requirements, each exactly comple­
mentary to the other. The play which fails to achieve such fulfilment
must fail entirely. In the first place, a dramatist has to create and
sustain interest. In the second place, that interest must be fully
satisfied. If he cannot interest his audience, his play is obviously
hopeless. If, having interested his audience, he cannot satisfy the
interest he has aroused, his play is worthless. There can be no object
in putting on the stage anything that leads to nothing. The play
which merely creates an interest to thwart it cannot have any pre­
tension to artistic merit. The pretended art which provides no
mental satisfaction is but a travesty of art.
Hence, since the drama undoubtedly requires both the creation
and satisfaction of interest, we clearly see that the subject of “climax”
has a most important relation to the adequate treatment of dramatic
themes. It is impossible, simultaneously, to create and satisfy dramatic
interest. The two processes must be distinct, and must be carried out
in proper order. And between the two there lies the crowning point
of expectancy—the climax of the play. The creation and development
of dramatic interest represent a crescendo of effect, the highest point
of which constitutes the climax. Then follows the satisfaction of
dramatic interest, the unraveling of that tangled thread of events.
[54]
CLIMAX 55
Thus, the climax of a play consists in a dramatic situation, the genesis
of which has been revealed by previous events, and the supreme
interest in which depends upon the suspense and expectation in­
duced in the minds of the spectators. It is a situation in which no
sense of finality can possibly exist. In order to bring about finality
the situation must be resolved and rounded off, in a manner which
will relieve the suspense and satisfy the expectations of the audience.
Now in a magical presentation the case is far different. It is true
that the magician, equally with the dramatist, must both excite and
satisfy the interest of his audience. But, whereas the dramatist deals
with conceptions and processes of a nature familiar to all men, the
magician’s doings are entirely remote from normal experience, and
certain differences in procedure are obviously requisite in the respec­
tive cases. The most notable difference is that, in dramatic work, the
satisfaction of the interest created follows after the climax has been
reached; while, in magic, the climax of events and the satisfaction of
interest occur simultaneously. The dramatist’s audience is interested
in witnessing events which occur in accordance with normal experi­
ence, and which must be made to result in a more or less normal
completion of the theme to which they relate. The magician’s audi­
ence, on the contrary, is interested in witnessing events which have
no relation to common experience, and can have no such emotional
qualities as those associated with normal occurrences. In this case,
the interest aroused is not that of witnessing the vicissitudes of
human existence, but of witnessing operations performed, at will,
by a being who possesses a power far beyond one’s own. Therefore,
the magician’s audience is not called upon to sympathize with
human emotions, but to take an interest in things which are entirely
out of the common, and in events which are only interesting from
the fact that they occur. So, in magic, the actual climax must neces­
sarily represent finality. The climax comes when the magical event
occurs; and, at the same time, the occurrence of that event entirely
satisfies the expectation aroused.
From what has been said, it will be readily understood that the
climax of a magical presentation demands even more careful con­
sideration than the climax of a drama; because in magic the climax
is also the completion. If the climax is not efficiently contrived, the
completion must be inadequate. The final result must be imperfect.
Thus a magician’s stage business must be so organized that the pro­
cedure which leads to the final effect of a presentation will fully
develop a constantly increasing interest; while, at the same time, due
56 OUR MAGIC
attention must be paid to the fact that the climax of interest and the
satisfaction of interest have to be brought about simultaneously.
That is to say, the magician, in leading up to his final effect, must
bear in mind two points of fundamental importance. Firstly, he has
to arrange the details of his procedure in such a manner that, as the
climax approaches, the audience shall be compelled to anticipate
remarkable results; and secondly, he must take especial care to guard
against the production of an anticlimax.
The first of those two points is obviously important, and the mode
of presentation whereby its observance may be insured is easily
understood. The second point, however, concerning the avoidance of
anticlimax, may not be grasped so readily. In order to understand it
fully, one must first of all know what constitutes an anticlimax, and
the reason why it is so detrimental to success. That knowledge having
been gained, one may prescribe preventive measures of an efficient
character.
What, then, is an anticlimax? It is a thing people often talk about
as though its nature were commonly understood. In a sense, most
people have an idea of the true meaning of the term, though it is
very doubtful whether one person in a thousand could give a ra­
tional definition of it, or explain the detrimental quality it repre­
sents. Yet, unless this is done, it is impossible to talk sensibly on
the subject; and, therefore, we must endeavor to arrive at the proper
definition and provide the necessary explanation.
In itself, the term “anticlimax” suggests a general definition of its
meaning which, although more or less correct, is far too vague to be
of any practical value. It is obviously something which opposes the
creation of an effective climax; and, as usually understood, it is some­
thing which occurs after the real climax has been produced. Beyond
this, neither the term itself, nor the ideas usually associated with it,
can be said to convey any definite information. Something more is
wanted to enable one to speak with authority upon the subject.
We may take it that an anticlimax is an event which occurs after
the true climax has been reached, and, thus occurring, detracts from
the effect of a presentation. Now, there are only two possible sources
from which such distractions can be derived. Either the climax is
not complete in itself, or some new subject of interest is introduced
afterward.
On thinking this out, we arrive at the real nature of an anticlimax.
It is an occurrence derived from either unsatisfied or redundant
interest. The climax has not been efficiently engineered, or is marred
CLIMAX 57
by faults in the subsequent procedure. In short, the effect does not
end where it ought to end; the interest does not culminate at one
single and definite point, but is subdivided and, consequently, re­
duced in its final value. A complete and perfect effect must neces­
sarily have far greater value than an effect which is marred by in­
completeness, or by subsequent distraction of interest. It follows
that, in order to avoid anticlimax, we must leave nothing to be
explained after the climax has occurred, and must introduce no
subsequent matter of interest relating thereto. The rule should be: —
(18) In each presentation, the procedure should lead up to a cul­
minating point of interest, at which point the magical effect should
be produced, and after which nothing magically interesting should
occur.
Otherwise, there is bound to be an anticlimax, more or less pro­
nounced, and therefore more or less detrimental to the general im­
pression produced.
Arising out of the conditions imposed by the preceding rule, there
is another which is of equal importance in connection with certain
forms of magical presentation. We refer to those presentations which
include more than one effect. We can all recall to mind a number of
instances in which several mutually-related magical changes are re­
vealed in succession. The well-known “Cannon-ball and Rabbit
Trick” is a case in point. Two hats are passed to the audience for
inspection. Meanwhile, the performer produces a rabbit from among
the folds of a feather boa borrowed from a lady spectator. The hats
and the rabbit are taken upon the stage and, from one of the hats,
a large and heavy metal ball is produced. One of the hats is then
hung upon a candle, which has hitherto been burning upon a side
table. Into the second hat the cannon-ball is placed; and lastly, the
rabbit is wrapped in a sheet of newspaper. Then follows the mys­
terious transposition of the various accessories. The newspaper parcel
is crumpled up into a ball, and allowed to fall lightly upon the stage.
The rabbit has obviously disappeared. The hat containing the
cannon-ball is taken up and, in an instant, the heavy metal sphere
vanishes, the rabbit reappearing in its place. The lighted candle
which previously supported the other hat, is taken from the folds of
a handkerchief; and finally, the hat is lifted from the candlestick
revealing the cannon-ball which has taken the place of the candle.
Thus, instead of a definite climax comprising one single effect, we
have, as it were, a protracted climax including a number of separate
but interdependent magical occurrences.
58 OUR MAGIC
In such a case as this, it may seem that the rule we have stated in
reference to climax cannot hold good. But, as a matter of fact, the
principle remains entirely valid. The climax is not really distributed
over a number of effects; it merely remains in suspense until the
final effect is produced. That is clearly so because, until the last
development has been reached, the interest increases, step by step.
The real climax does not occur until the moment the final revelation
is made—or, at any rate, it should not occur until then. Any revela­
tion made after the true climax has passed must necessarily con­
stitute an anticlimax. Therefore, we may say: —
(19) When a presentation includes a number of effects in series,
the final effect should represent the true climax, and its predecessors
successive steps whereby that climax is reached.
From the differences in treatment required in the respective cases
of drama and magic, it will be seen that when, as often happens, those
two arts have to be combined, special precautions should be observed.
Since procedure which may be admirably adapted to the require­
ments of one art may be fatal to the other, nothing is easier than to
play hob with both arts when in combination. Thus, if magical effects
have to be introduced into a dramatic production, or dramatic effects
are associated with a magical performance, a clear understanding of
the methods which should be adopted is most essential. Without such
knowledge, a presentation which, if properly managed, might be a
great success, may easily become a disastrous failure. In the case of a
combination of magic and drama, the truth of the saying that there
is no royal road to success finds a very special application. The only
road to be followed with safety is the path of knowledge. We shall
therefore give a brief consideration to the procedure advisable when
magical and dramatic effects are associated.
As a point of departure, we may refer to a fact, not generally
recognized, but amply demonstrated by experience. It is a fact that
is useful in showing something of the normal conditions to be met
when drama and magic are simultaneously employed. The fact to
which we allude is this: Many magical effects which (if presented
as separate items in a program) evoke thunders of applause, are
received with absolute silence when introduced as episodes in a
dramatic plot. This, at first sight, may seem strange, but the apparent
singularity disappears when one comes to a proper understanding of
the circumstances. There is necessarily a reason for the result ob­
served, and one that is well worth ascertaining.
Looking at the matter broadly, it becomes evident that when
CLIMAX 59
magic and drama are associated, the diverse requirements of the
two arts must call for a certain amount of mutual adjustment. Some­
thing of each must be modified for the benefit of the general effect.
In Rule 5, we stated the fundamental principle of unity, which
demands that every presentation shall represent a distinct and com­
plete entity, comprising one definite effect. Thus we see that when
a magical item (instead of standing alone and complete within itself)
is adapted to form an episode in a play, it no longer conveys an im­
pression of finality, however complete may be the dramatic situation
attending it. That is to say, it ought not to convey such an impres­
sion, in the circumstances described. Of course, it is quite possible
to pitchfork a magical effect into a dramatic performance, without
reference to the requirements of the plot and without serving any
essential purpose, and then make that interpolated piece of magic
go with the audience, just as it would go apart from the play. That
kind of thing, however, does not represent the combination of magic
with drama. Neither art aids the other in the slightest degree; while
the magic is being presented, the drama has to halt. When the
drama proceeds again, the magic must be cleared out of the way.
Procedure such as this contravenes every essential rule of artistic
unity. It degrades magic to the level of mere padding, as music and
poetry have been degraded so frequently in modern plays of the
vaudeville order. The simple truth is that the artistic combination
of various arts can only be achieved by subjugating those arts, one
and all, to the general requirements of artistic unity. They must
not each be called upon to provide isolated “turns,” one down and
t’other come on. Their contributions must be so dovetailed together
that each item forms a necessary step in the progress toward one
common end.
A magical item presented in the course of a play should, therefore,
form an essential part of that play. It should be an episode without
which the plot would be incomplete. Preferably, it should be so
entirely essential that the play could not be presented without it.
At the very least, it should add something of consequence to the
general progress and to the final effect. In any event, it should not
be a thing which may be replaced by something else, or left out
altogether without materially affecting the action of the play. Aris­
totle tells us, as already quoted, that everything which may be put
in or left out at will is not properly a part of the presentation; and
that statement has never been gainsaid by any subsequent authority
upon the subject of art. Therefore, we must always endeavor to
60 OUR MAGIC
arrange our procedure in accordance with either one or the other
of two distinct methods. We must either produce a number of iso­
lated and independent effects in succession, each being complete and
self-contained, or we must make the individual items a series of
stepping-stones toward one final end.
That, of course, is not to say that a series of magical effects may
not be loosely strung together in the form of a sequence of events,
or in a slight sketch, wherein the performers personate imaginary
characters. Presentations of that kind have no relation to the case in
point. The successive effects have no connection with any definite
theme of dramatic interest. Each is complete and perfect in itself,
and is only related to the others by a kind of natural order. There is
no dramatic plot to be served by what takes place; and, for that
reason, there is no question of combined effect to be considered.
When, however, we have to deal not only with magical feats, but
also with dramatic construction, the “stepping-stone” method has
to be adopted. And in such circumstances, the more we reflect upon
the subject the more clearly we see that “the play’s the thing.” The
magical items are, as it were, beads held together and supported by
the thread of dramatic interest. Thus connected, the beads form
a chain of harmonious proportions. If we remove one of the beads,
the general effect is marred. If we try to add an unnecessary bead,
we must break the connecting thread in order to do so; and, by so
doing, we, cause the whole to fall asunder. The thread will no longer
join up, and continuity cannot exist. The only thing to be done is
to remove the superfluous addition, repair the broken thread and
re-string the proper number of beads in their proper order. Thus, we
arrive at the following rule: —
(20) When Magic and Drama are combined in one presentation
the stage procedure should primarily be governed by the dramatic
requirements of the case, rather than by the normal principles of
Art in Magic.
By no other means can such presentations be made to accord with
the essential principle of unity. It is obvious that no possible se­
quence of magical happenings can, per se, form the thread of human
interest requisite in a dramatic plot. At the same time, of course, such
a sequence of effects may readily provide the means whereby a
dramatic plot is carried out. But that is a very different thing from
providing the plot itself. On the other hand, a dramatic plot may
undoubtedly form the thread upon which magical occurrences de­
pend, and by means of which they are so connected as to, form one
CLIMAX 61
consistent and harmonious whole. The conditions upon which the
very existence of dramatic effect depends, require a connecting-
thread of that kind. Without it, there can be no central support upon
which the ultimate issue can turn. Since the principles of magical
procedure are inadequate to provide the conditions requisite for
dramatic effect, we are bound to fall back on the principles of drama
for the main outlines of our presentation. Stated briefly, this means
that when, in a combination of magic and drama, the respective
requirements of those two arts are in opposition, magic must take
second place.
No doubt, this may seem to impose rather a difficult task upon
magicians. But to those who are worthy of being described as artists,
that apparent difficulty soon disappears. Whatever we may do as
artists, the first essential is to insure artistic unity. That being so, we
can feel no pang in doing whatever may be necessary for the purposes
of unity. We are prepared to sacrifice any personal foible or favorite
method, in order that unity may be obtained. If we cannot sacrifice
some amount of magical effect in order to gain the benefit to be
derived from dramatic construction, we should drop the dramatic
part altogether. We can only benefit by the aid of drama if we are
prepared to fulfil the requirements of drama. If we seek to enlist the
drama into our service and, at the same time, to retain the normal
effect associated with each isolated magical production, we are bound
to fail in our endeavors.
There can be no real difficulty in grasping the truth of this matter.
A magical presentation is normally a thing complete and perfect in
itself. It has its own involution, its own climax, and its own evolution.
If we present magical effects in combination with a dramatic theme,
we superimpose upon them a master-plot having a master-climax,
and a master-evolution to be fulfilled, in order to produce unity in
the final result. That being so, our magical items can no longer re­
main complete in themselves, without producing disruption of the
dramatic theme and destroying its unity. The climax normally asso­
ciated with each magical effect must be so modified as to form a
stepping-stone to what comes after, instead of conveying an impres­
sion of finality as it ordinarily would. By no other means can artistic
unity be preserved; because any other procedure would mean sacri­
ficing that indispensable quality to the caprice of the producer of
the performance. Better, by far, to leave drama entirely alone, than
try to combine it with magic, and, at the same time, disregard dra­
matic principles.
62 OUR MAGIC
The variation of procedure necessitated by the combination of
drama with magic relates, of course, only to the general scheme of
presentation—the unity of general effect. We must not run away
with the idea that, because magic must sacrifice something for the
sake of unity, everything must be sacrificed to the normal procedure
of drama. On the contrary, in matters of detail magic has the right
to demand the chief consideration. The broad lines on which the
general effect is planned should certainly be guided by dramatic
considerations, even to the detriment of magical interest. But, beyond
that, magic steps into the position of command.
This follows as a natural consequence of the possible conflict
between dramatic and magical requirements. The respective func­
tions of drama and magic, when the two arts are combined, are
perfectly evident. Drama provides the theme of general interest.
Magic provides the particular episodes whereby the dramatic theme
is carried out with adequate effect. So long as each art is confined
to the fulfilment of its proper end and aim, there can be no logical
conflict between them. Therefore, as a corollary to Rule 20 we may
say:—
(21) When, in a combination of the two arts, the primary require­
ments of Drama have been satisfied, all subsidiary details of pro­
cedure should be dictated by the normal principles of Art in Magic.
Satisfactory provision for the exigencies of drama having been
made, all other matters must be governed by magical considerations.
It is when there exists either ignorance or neglect of the truths em­
bodied in the last two rules, that we find antagonism between magic
and drama in combination. We can quite easily understand how such
antagonism arises, by recalling what so often occurs in practice. If a
theatrical manager presents a combination of the two arts, he pro­
ceeds as though the magical details were of no importance whatever.
He works entirely upon his usual lines of procedure. He acts as
though he were producing an ordinary drama. The requirements of
magic never enter his head. It is only after completing the produc­
tion, from a dramatic standpoint—stage-business, scenery, furniture,
fittings and dresses included—he begins to think about the magical
effects which have to be introduced. The natural result is an entire
failure in ultimate effect. The performance induces no sense of
conviction in the minds of those who witness it. The magical occur­
rences essential to the theme are ruined, and in their ruin the whole
production is wrecked.
Conversely, a magician has to guard against a natural tendency in
CLIMAX 63
the opposite direction. Some allowance, no doubt, may be made by
others on that account, but he should make none on his own part.
He should not allow his ideas to be dominated by the desire to make
the utmost of his magical business, without regard to the dramatic
theme with which it is associated. Otherwise, he will fail in the final
result, just as surely as the dramatist who throws the whole of his
energy into a drama, regardless of the magical episodes upon which
his ultimate success largely depends.
CHAPTER IX
PRESENTATION

I
n relation to what may be termed the “applied art” side of
magic, the subject of presentation has not only the widest scope,
but also the most vital importance of all subdivisions of the
Art in Magic. Indeed, since magic is one of the ephemeral arts,
which can only attain fruition in actual performance, one might say
that without adequate presentation there can be no art in magic.
And, apart from mechanical and speculative matters, that statement
would be entirely accurate. The final purpose of the art is the
presentation of its effects; and, until those effects are presented, the
art itself cannot be perfected, but must remain a thing of little
importance in the eyes of the world. Therefore, it is in this depart­
ment of his art that the magician, as it were, puts the coping-stone
upon the edifice erected by his skill and labor.
In accordance with the manner in which that final work is carried
out, will depend the ultimate making or marring of the whole
structure. Hence the supreme necessity, in connection with magical
presentation, for obtaining a thorough knowledge of such general
principles as may be derived from experience and logical reasoning.
The subject is admittedly one of extreme complexity, and simply
bristles with controversial details. It can never be reduced to even
the semblance of an exact science, but must be dealt with upon
broad lines, capable of general application. Still, even when we
confine our attention to simple generalities, and allow a wide margin
of elasticity in the few principles which may be established, there
are many valuable truths to be ascertained by discussing the subject.
We shall therefore endeavor to reason out such truths as may serve
for our guidance in the presentation of magical effects.
In the forefront of our discussion, we must undoubtedly place the
consideration of matters relating to the personal characteristics of a
performer. A striking personality is an accidental advantage. It may
be of great assistance in the practice of art; yet, in itself, it is not art
but chance. There are many performers who, without the possession
of attractive personality or natural distinction, contrive to make
their work effective in the highest degree—to hold the attention and
gain the appreciation of their audiences, completely and invariably.
[64]
PRESENTATION 65
Now that clearly is art. It must be so, since it is not due to the
normal operations of nature.
On the other hand, there are men of charming personality who, in
spite of the natural advantages they possess, can never render their
efforts convincing to an audience—men who, in private, would
appear to be gifted with qualities which could not fail to command
public appreciation; and yet, who fail to touch even the fringe of
success in stage work or other modes of presentation. This represents
the utter negation of art, and is simply a misuse of valuable posses­
sions. Instances of artistic failure of this kind will occur to the mind
of everyone who reads these lines. Such instances clearly show that a
striking personality, when divorced from the essential requirements
of artistic presentation, may be of as little value as technical perfec­
tion which is accompanied by similar deficiencies.
In either case, there is just the one thing lacking without which
success is impossible. That is, the knowledge of how to adapt personal
qualifications to public service—in other words, to present what is
shown in a way that will appeal to the average spectator. Attractive
personality is a good thing to possess. So, also, is technical ability.
But neither of those good qualities singly, nor both in conjunction,
will serve to make the performer an artist. Something more is
necessary. He must understand the proper method of displaying his
qualifications. Given that understanding, he has every reasonable
hope for success, however limited his personal advantages, natural
or acquired. Without that understanding, his prospects are usually
hopeless, no matter what personal charm or ability he may possess.
Herein we perceive the importance of learning all we possibly can,
in connection with this present section of our inquiry. The path of
knowledge cannot be otherwise than thorny and full of obstructions.
But every step we take is bound to render the next easier, and to
lead us nearer to success.
It is clear that the object of presentation comprises two prime
factors, upon which all our calculations must be based. Those factors
are “personality” and “procedure.” Upon the establishment of a
proper relation between them—that is, their mutual adaptation to
a definite purpose—the artistic success of any performer must ulti­
mately depend. They are both variable factors; and, usually, they
are variable within wide limits, though not necessarily so. The
greater their variability, the wider will be the performer’s range of
efficiency, and the more numerous his opportunities for achieving
success. Practically, this means that the higher a performer’s ability
66 OUR MAGIC
as an actor, the less will his field of operation be circumscribed and
the greater will be his qualifications as a magician. Conversely, the
greater the diversity of procedure available in connection with a
magical effect, the more readily may its presentation be made to
harmonize with the personal characteristics of the performer. In this
case the effect becomes more generally available to magicians as a
body, because the procedure can easily be modified to suit various
individualities. The main principle underlying these considerations
may be stated in the form of a practical rule, thus: —
(22) No magician should ever present, in public, any magical feat
in which the procedure cannot be, or has not been, adapted to his
own personal characteristics and abilities.
However good an effect may be, and however desirable its inclusion
in the performer’s repertoire, he should reject it altogether if its
presentation involves any essential feature which he cannot readily
provide. If the necessary “business” includes either important details
or general methods, at variance with the artist’s stage presence, men­
tality, or personal aptitude, he should throw aside all idea of attempt­
ing the presentation. In like manner, if there is need for any form
of manual dexterity, or other skill, which the performer has but
indifferently acquired, he should wait until that deficiency has been
made good before he tries the thing in public. If the acquisition of
that essential skill proves to be beyond his capability, he should sacri­
fice the production unhesitatingly. However reluctantly the sacrifice
may have to be made, there can be no question as to the need for
making it. In any case of this nature, the wish should be subject to
the will, and the latter to common sense. The performer who cannot
bring himself to make a sacrifice of this kind will never justify his
claim to be regarded as an artist. He may, of course, form mistaken
ideas of his qualifications and characteristics, but that is another
matter. As an artist, he is bound to do the best that is in him; and,
at the same time, endeavor to reject everything imperfect. It is im­
possible that he can always succeed—but he will always try.
In every walk of life, the same general principles hold good. No
two men are precisely alike in constitution or capability. Therefore,
no two men can exhibit any artistic accomplishment in identical
manner and equally well. This is especially true in relation to the
public exhibition of ephemeral arts, such as magic. No two actors,
for example, have ever played “Hamlet” in exactly the same way, or
with equal success. Indeed, the character has been attempted by
some who, although possessing undoubted histrionic genius, have
PRESENTATION 67
shown themselves incompetent to represent the Dane as Shakespeare
portrayed him. Their failure has been obviously due to the fact that
they did not sufficiently understand their natural limitations. That
is a fault which invariably brings its own punishment, sooner or
later. Every living man has limitations, beyond which he becomes
incompetent. The wise man, whether artist or artisan, will endeavor
to learn the nature of his limitations and to keep his work well
within them.
A natural gift for doing certain things with facility is a common
characteristic. In addition to that, most people possess an aptitude for
learning to do certain things, which are not exactly in accordance
with their natural bent. Anything beyond this, however, must neces­
sarily approach a person’s limit of efficiency, at the best; and may
very readily be altogether beyond his natural limitations. Ordinarily,
when a man finds himself lacking in aptitude in certain directions,
he acquires an unconquerable aversion to attempting that which
presents so much difficulty. But unfortunately we sometimes meet
with persons whose utmost desire is the achievement of success in
directions which, for them, can but lead to absolute failure. Thus,
we find the man who by nature is qualified to raise the process of
“grinning through a horse collar” to the dignity of a fine art, is ambi­
tious to shine as a poetic idealist. Instead of doing the thing for
which he was intended by nature, he wants to discourse upon
“Pictures, Taste, Shakespeare, and the Musical Glasses.” Similarly,
the man who has no spark of humor in his composition, cherishes
the dream of becoming famous as a comedian. Such men, of course,
are abnormal; but they are by no means uncommon. They may be
found, here and there, among magicians. Yet, in connection with
magic, there is no valid reason why any man should form a mistaken
estimate of his own capabilities, or experience a moment’s doubt as
to what he should or should not present in public. We may state a
practical rule, which is merely the embodiment of a truism, and
should prevent all possible doubt of the kind mentioned. It is this: —
(23) Never attempt, in public, anything that cannot be performed
with the utmost ease in private.
Anything that cannot be done with facility cannot be done
properly. Yet, on the part of public performers, magicians included,
we often find an apparent disregard of that self-evident fact. The
spectacle of a performer attempting to present in public magical feats
which obviously have not passed beyond the stage of difficulty in
private practice, is by no means unusual. The effect produced in the
68 OUR MAGIC
minds of spectators by witnessing such presentations is invariably
of a most deplorable character. An audience subjected to such an
ordeal cannot fail to be either distressed, or moved to sarcastic
laughter. So far as the performer’s success is concerned, it does not
matter which of those two results is produced. There is nothing to
choose between them, for they are equally disastrous. Whether the
audience feels sorry for the performer, or feels inclined to “guy”
him, makes no difference in the end; because, either way, the end is
failure, writ large. An entertainer—magician or otherwise—must be
able to make his audience think and feel as he chooses, not as
accident may decide. He may excite laughter or arouse sympathy,
but it must be on account of his art, not himself. Whatever impres­
sions his spectators receive should be due to an interest in what he
is presenting, and not to his own shortcomings. The audience should
be made to laugh with him, not at him; to grieve in sympathy with
his artistic suggestions, not in pity for his inartistic failures.
One would think that the strained relations which, in cases of
immature or otherwise defective presentations, always exist between
a performer and his audience, must necessarily provide a wholesome
corrective for such errors. But unfortunately some performers appear
to be so incurably afflicted with megalomania—in other words,
‘‘swelled head”—that their failures never come home to them. They
seem unable to conceive the possibility of failing to compel any
audience to fall down and worship the divinity of whatever they
choose to present. Theirs is the primrose path, the easy pursuit of art,
because of the transcendent gifts with which nature has endowed
them! Other men, less favored than themselves, may no doubt find
it necessary to labor in the vineyards of art, in order to achieve
success. It is only fit and proper for such poor creatures to earn their
bread by toil, and with difficulty. Let them do so, since they can do
no better. The supremely gifted geniuses, to whom the conquest of
art has been rendered a mere holiday task, have no need for such
personal effort as others make. The king can do no wrong, and they
can do nothing that is not right! Why should genius trouble about
what it is going to present to a public audience? It will be all right
on the night!
Will it? No! almost certainly, it will be all wrong. Men who are
capable of arguing in that way are not artists in any sense of the
term, and never will be. In connection with art of any and every
kind, there are many things which necessarily are open to question,
and admit the possibility of dispute. There is, however, one point
PRESENTATION 69
upon which no question can be raised, and no dispute is possible.
That is, no matter how great may be the natural ability of any man,
he can only achieve artistic success by means of great and persistent
effort. Those who think otherwise, and act up to their convictions,
are almost certain to fail. Now and then, of course, one of them may
be lucky enough to meet with success—of a kind; but it will not, it
cannot, be artistic success. He will be a “mushroom man.” He will
spring up in a night, as it were, and disappear the next day. His
only chance of permanent benefit will lie in making all the profit he
can during his brief period of popularity. After that, the public will
have found him out, and will consign him to the oblivion that awaits
all such impostors as he.
Year after year, such men constantly come and go. The lesson
taught thereby should be self-evident to anyone who has normal
intelligence. In magic, above all other arts, the phrase “all right on
the night” has no place, except by way of sarcasm. Whatever is not
entirely right before the night arrives, will be found all wrong as
sure as fate. It is an experience common to all men to find that, on
any special occasion, such as the production of a magical effect for
the first time in public, everything that can go wrong will go wrong.
Whether we must attribute this to the malignity of matter or to the
total depravity of inanimate things, whether the exciting cause is
hurry, worry, or what not, the fact remains.
CHAPTER X
REHEARSAL

A
magical effect of whatever kind, and by whomsoever pre­
sented, can be made a public success only by unremitting
care and labor. Systematic attention to details and refine­
ment of procedure are required. And such attention and refinement
can only be provided by means of adequate rehearsal. The rule
suggested by these considerations would be too obvious to require
statement, were it not so obvious that it is in danger of being over­
looked. It is this: —
(24) Never present in public any performance which has not been
most perfectly rehearsed—first in detail, and finally as a whole.
In reality, there is far more in that simple rule than appears on the
surface. It opens out and partly defines a point of great importance
in practice. Merely to say that everything should be properly re­
hearsed is very much like telling a pugilist to “go in and win.”
The fighting-man will go in and win, and the performer will rehearse
everything properly without being told to do so. That kind of advice
is too plentiful to be of much value, anyhow. What both those men
want to be told is how to do the thing. Given that knowledge, further
instruction becomes superfluous. In the case of the pugilist, we have
no suggestion to offer in this respect; and, if we had, there might be
some danger in offering it. The entertainer, however, stands in
another category. In his case, we have opinions of a more or less
strongly developed character, which have been gained both in con­
ducting rehearsals ourselves, and in watching other people conduct
them. Thirty years or more of that sort of thing naturally tends to
create decided views as to the proper way of doing it, and removes
all diffidence in connection with speaking one’s mind. Such being our
position in the matter we shall proceed to state our views accordingly.
So far as we can see, there is only one way in which a presentation
can be properly rehearsed. That is, as indicated in the foregoing rule,
to take everything in detail first of all and gradually combine the
perfected details until the whole is gone through, precisely as it will
be performed in public. To proceed in any other manner is bound
to incur waste of time at the moment, and imperfection (possibly
serious) in the ultimate result. Haphazard rehearsal, “catch-as-catch-
[70]
REHEARSAL 71
can” style, however prolonged, can never be really efficient. One of
the greatest dangers to be guarded against is over-rehearsal. Some
people, as we all know, hold the belief that it is impossible to give a
production too much rehearsal. That is one of the wildest fallacies
imaginable. Yet, at the same time, we should bear in mind the seem­
ing paradox that a presentation may have been rehearsed to death
without, in reality, having had half enough rehearsal. This, of course,
requires some explanation; but, properly understood, it becomes
clear to the verge of platitude. And, after due consideration of the
point of issue, we think that none can doubt the fact that, so long
as a production is efficiently rehearsed, the less rehearsal it has the
better it will be. In other words, effort should always be made to
curtail the rehearsal necessary, by getting as much value as possible
out of the time devoted to it.
By way of elucidating this subject, it is only necessary to explain
the reasons to which the dangers of over-rehearsal are due. Broadly
speaking, there are two of prime importance, and to these two we
may confine our attention, so far as present purposes are concerned.
No doubt, there are many others of minor consequence; but if we
succeed in proving the main points, all the rest may be neglected.
Firstly, then, excessive rehearsal produces a sense of weariness, and
destroys interest in the work to be done. Thus, all concerned tend
to become perfunctory in the discharge of their duties. Secondly, an
undue continuance of rehearsal tends to make those in authority
lose their sense of proportion. They become unable to determine
the relative importance of details, and lack of a proper grasp of the
true essentials. This second danger is by far the greater of the two,
inasmuch as it militates against the very object which the rehearsals
are intended to promote. What always follows in such a case is that,
the longer the rehearsals go on, the more stale and incompetent will
everybody become—especially the man in charge of affairs. The latter
person, in fact, eventually becomes reduced to a state of abject hope­
lessness, without a particle of faith to sustain him. Surely, it stands
to reason that this cannot be the proper way to conduct rehearsals.
When every subordinate is worn out, and those at the head of affairs
have lost all understanding of the difference between good and bad
and of the matters which determine success or failure, there is bound
to be waste of effort, to say the least. Instead of being devoted to
making progress, the time is wasted in hurrying to and fro, without
getting any “forrarder.”
From what has been said, it follows that the most important
72 OUR MAGIC
matter connected with rehearsal is the organization of procedure
upon proper lines. The readiest way to impress upon readers the
truth of that statement will be to give an accurate description of the
manner in which the haphazard method works. We could quote an
example from among our own experiences in various theaters, but
we prefer not to risk a charge of wilful exaggeration. We shall there­
fore quote an authority against whom no breath of suspicion can be
whispered—to wit, Count Leo Tolstoy. His description of an opera-
rehearsal on the happy-go-lucky system will serve to illustrate this
point perfectly. One has only to modify the description in detail to
understand how it might equally well apply to the rehearsal of some
magical presentation. Here is Tolstoy’s statement: —
“On an elevation between two lamps with reflectors, and in an arm­
chair placed before a music-stand, sat a director of the musical part,
baton in hand, managing the orchestra and singers, and in general the
production of the whole opera.
“The performance had already commenced, and on the stage a proces­
sion of Indians who had brought home a bride was being represented.
Besides men and women in costume, two other men in ordinary clothes
bustled and ran about on the stage; one was the director of the dramatic
part, and the other, who stepped about in soft shoes and ran from place
to place with unusual agility, was the dancing-master, whose salary per
month exceeded what ten laborers earn in a year.
“These three directors arranged the singing, the orchestra, and the
procession. The procession, as usual, was enacted by couples, with tin-
foil halberds on their shoulders. They all came from one place, and
walked round and round again, and then stopped. The procession took a
long time to arrange: first the Indians with halberds came on too late;
then too soon; then at the right time, but crowded together at the exit;
then they did not crowd, but arranged themselves badly at the sides of the
stage; and each time the whole performance was stopped and recom­
menced from the beginning. The procession was introduced by a recita­
tive, delivered by a man dressed up like some variety of Turk, who, open­
ing his mouth in a curious way, sang, ‘Home I bring the bri-i-ide.’ He
sings and waves his arm (which is, of course, bare) from under his mantle.
The procession commences, but here the French horn, in the accompani­
ment of the recitative, does something wrong; and the director, with a
shudder as if some catastrophe had occurred, raps with his stick on the
stand. All is stopped, and the director, turning to the orchestra, attacks
the French horn, scolding him in the rudest terms, as cabmen abuse each
other, for taking the wrong note. And again the whole thing recom­
mences. The Indians with their halberds again come on, treading softly
in their extraordinary boots; again the singer sings, ‘Home I bring the
REHEARSAL 73
bri-i-ide.’ But here the pairs get too close together. More raps with the
stick, more scolding, and a recommencement. Again, ‘Home I bring the
bri-i-ide,’ again the same gesticulation with the bare arm from under the
mantle, and again, and again the couples, treading softly with halberds
on their shoulders, some with sad and serious faces, some talking and
smiling, arrange themselves in a circle and begin to sing. All seems to be
going well, but again the stick raps, and the director, in a distressed and
angry voice, begins to scold the men and women of the chorus. It ap­
pears that when singing they had omitted to raise their hands from time
to time in sign of animation. ‘Are you all dead or what? Cows that you
are! Are you corpses, that you can’t move?’ Again they recommence,
‘Home I bring the bri-i-ide,’ and again, with sorrowful faces, the chorus
women sing, first one and then another of them raising their hands.
But two chorus girls speak to each other,—again a more vehement rap­
ping with the stick. ‘Have you come here to talk? Can’t you gossip at
home? You there in red breeches, come nearer. Look towards me! Recom­
mence!’ Again ‘Home I bring the bri-i-ide.’ And so it goes on for one,
two, three hours. The whole of such a rehearsal lasts six hours on end.
Raps with the stick, repetitions, placings, corrections of the singers, of
the orchestra, of the procession, of the dancers,—all seasoned with angry
scolding. I heard the words, ‘asses,’ ‘fools,’ ‘idiots,’ ‘swine’ addressed to the
musicians and singers at least forty times in the course of an hour.”
No wonder Tolstoy felt impelled to dip his pen in vitriol and to
condemn such proceedings with all the force of invective at his com­
mand. No wonder he was led to protest violently against the commis­
sion of such crimes in the name of art. No wonder he was filled with
contempt, even for the opera itself; although, from his account, it
appears to have been founded upon the most beautiful, perhaps, of
Moore’s poems—“Lalla Rookh.” Worst of all, is the fact that there
cannot be the slightest doubt of Tolstoy’s accuracy in this matter,
either in substance or detail. The palpable fact that he had an axe to
grind in this connection must be admitted, of course; but for all
that, his integrity is too well known to permit of anyone to question
his statement, in any essential particular.
Surely every man whose head was made for use and not ornament
must agree that such rehearsals cannot be efficient. Proceedings of
that kind, if recounted in a court of law, would most certainly be
regarded as evidence of incapacity on the part of the men in author­
ity. No business man—and, above all, no artist—could ever believe
such a Ballyhooly to be the proper means for producing a work of
art. The amenities of Donnybrook Fair cannot represent the standard
for artistic procedure and, in order to achieve artistic success, it can
74 OUR MAGIC
scarcely be requisite for artists to emulate the conduct of Kilkenny
cats. We apologize for this sequence of similes, drawn from the
Sister Isle, but it is not our fault that they happen to fit the case
like a sticking-plaster.
Imagine the absurdity of having the Musical Director, Stage-
Manager, Ballet Master, Principals, Chorus, Ballet, and Supers, all
tumbling over one another in that manner. Why on earth were all
those people huddled together on the stage, trying to act in concert
when they had not yet learned what was required of them indi­
vidually? Think of the chaos that must have attended the efforts of
such crowded incompetency! Nearly everything was bound to go
wrong; and, at each mistake, the whole crowd had to halt, go back
to a certain point and start again. The waste of time resulting from
such idiotic procedure is lamentable in the extreme. Let the reader
try to put himself in the place of that singer who had the job of
bringing home the “bri-i-de!” He must have had a high opinion of
the ability possessed by his Management. No matter which of the
assembled inefficients went wrong, he was pulled up, ordered to go
back to the beginning of his recitative, and made to sing it all over
again. And the same with everyone else. All of them marking time
after each step forward and usually, taking three steps back afterward.
This certainly “gives furiously to think,” as they say across the
channel.
Then, again, consider the discipline of the subordinates, as shown
in Tolstoy’s account. It was like the snakes in Norway, non-existent.
One might safely predict that no assemblage of men and women
could be found who would do better in surroundings of that kind.
They could maintain no shred of interest in their work. They could
see no possible object in paying attention to business, when nothing
really mattered. But, when the harassed Musical Director happened
to notice somebody chattering, he naturally expressed his opinion in
terms of magnitude.
The whole system was obviously wrong. Some may perhaps argue
that when time is short, it is impossible to adopt any other course.
We contend, however, that the shorter the time available, the greater
the need for making the most of it. If one has not time to manage a
production systematically, there cannot be time to muddle through
with it. The rational way of going about the business would have
been as follows.
The first essential in any production is the avoidance of divided
authority. There can be only one “producer,” who must be in
REHEARSAL 75
supreme command. But, at the same time, since he alone cannot
do all the work, he must not interfere with the minor authority
delegated to others. In the case of this particular opera, the Musical
Director was also the producer, and properly so. In a magical pro­
duction, the supreme head of affairs would similarly be a magician.
Had he been a capable producer, he would never have allowed every­
thing to be rehearsed at once, in that way. At the outset, he would
have assigned to each of his subordinate officials their respective
duties; and he and they would each have given the performers, in
their own individual departments, all necessary instructions. To
every important member of the company, written instructions would
have been issued for private study. While the principals were study­
ing their parts, the supers and other subordinate performers would
have been called for rehearsal in their respective groups. Simul­
taneously, the orchestra would have been rehearsed, apart from the
stage performers. After that, the principal singers and actors would
have been called to rehearsal with the orchestra. Then each group
of minor artists would have been attended to in the same way. Then,
and not until then, would a general rehearsal have been called.
Not until then would everybody have been brought together upon
the stage, and expected to attempt combined action.
That would be the time when the producer took general command.
He should then find that, in the main, every performer knew exactly
what he had to do, and where he had to stand. All the producer
would have to do would consist in dovetailing the work of the
various departments into one harmonious whole. Whatever he might
have to say about the work of any particular department, he would
say it to the director of that department and not to the subordinates.
What any director might want to say to his own people would have
to wait until the general rehearsal had ended. The proceedings
would not be stopped and everybody kept waiting, while the Ballet
Master scolded his dancers, the Stage-Manager called over the coals
his supers, stage-hands, extras, and assistants galore, or the Con­
ductor gave his French horn socks.
According to Tolstoy’s account, the Musical Director appeared to
be attending to everything connected with the opera, and trying to
combine the duties of all the directors. If he had to teach and direct
all the crowd, what did he want with such people as the Stage-Man­
ager and the Ballet Master? There is no sense in keeping a dog and
doing the barking oneself. Besides, in a big production, it is im­
possible for one man to be both chief cook and bottle-washer in
that way.
76 OUR MAGIC
Wagner, we know, tried to do everything himself in the way of
supervision. He knew one branch of his productions thoroughly—the
musical department. This was surely enough for one lifetime, as
things go. But in addition to that he was Author, Producer, Stage-
Manager, Ballet Master, Scenic Artist, Costumier, Lighting Expert,
Stage Foreman, Property Man, and everything else, all rolled into
one. It is heresy to say so, but sitting through a Wagner opera is, to
us, a painful ordeal. In spite of the grandeur of the music, the ab­
surdities in drama and stage-craft, to everyone with a sense of humor,
cannot fail to be irresistibly comic. Wagner should be heard, not
seen. Our culminating experience of Wagner as performed on the
stage, was in witnessing the second act of “Die Walkure” in Vienna.
Never again! The tortures of suppressed laughter we underwent
were too great for words.
It is a mistake to try to do too much. A producer must necessarily
know many things. He must have a general knowledge of the work
connected with every department of his production. But he cannot
do, and must not attempt, the work which should be done by expert
specialists in each department. He must be able to say when anything
whatever is not right; he may even have expert knowledge and
experience in one or two directions; but he cannot know everything
and do everything essential to a great production. The ideal producer
is the man who can direct the efforts of his colleagues, in such manner
as to bring about the combined effect he has conceived, and which
he knows to be essential to success.
We shall now proceed to deal with the application of the foregoing
illustrations, and of the conclusions to be drawn therefrom, to the
procedure advisable, first in the case of purely magical productions,
and then in connection with magic and drama combined.
In the rehearsal of magical presentations, the need for avoiding
confusion is even more pronounced than in the case of drama. Per­
formers have more to think about in magical work than in other
forms of stage business. A magician has not only to play his part as
an actor; but simultaneously he has to give adequate attention to
technical details, which involve considerable difficulty as a rule. In
addition to these matters, he is often obliged to study his audience,
and adapt his procedure to the requirements of the moment. Com­
pared with the actor’s task of playing a set part, the magician’s duties
are far more complex, and more difficult to perform. Therefore, he
requires every advantage to be derived from thorough preparation.
In the case of a single-handed performer, of course, the matter is
REHEARSAL 77
comparatively simple. Yet even in his case, systematic procedure will
yield better results than haphazard working. His first step should be
to get the purely magical part of his work more or less complete.
Until that is well in hand, he cannot expect to give proper attention
to the requirements of actual presentation. When he has arrived
at the knowledge of what must be done to render his effects present­
able, he will be in a position to decide upon the best way of presenting
them. Naturally, while rehearsing the magical details, he will con­
ceive ideas relating to appropriate patter and business. These he
should note down for future reference, without flying off at a tangent
and allowing his attention to wander from the work in hand to
details of presentation which, at that stage, cannot possibly be
decided. In trying to do two things at once, in that way, he can only
waste time. The chances are ten to one that if he cannot avoid the
temptation to imagine what the end of his work will be, while he
has still to complete the beginning, more than half the ideas he
elaborates will have to be rejected. There is also the danger that in
attempting too much at once, he will lose sight of many important
details which otherwise would have attracted his attention. When
he gets on the stage, he will be compelled to attend to several things
at the same moment. He should, for that very reason, attend to one
thing at a time, while he has the opportunity for so doing.
Having brought his magical details to some degree of perfection,
and made notes of any ideas that have occurred to him in relation
to the staging of his effects, the performer even then is not ready to
rehearse his presentation. He has still to decide upon the word and
action appropriate to each moment occupied by his stage-work. The
incidental patter and business must be prepared before he can
reasonably hope to make efficient progress. The fact is, after the
purely magical technique has been mastered, the magician is required
to throw aside, for the moment, his own special work, and take up the
dramatic side of his art. He has to prepare himself for playing his part
upon the stage, as an actor. To this end, he must become a dramatic
author, in addition to fulfilling his other duties. Even though he may
be preparing a “silent act,” he has still the dramatic “business” to
arrange; and that, after all, is the most important element of drama.
When his presentation includes patter also, he has a “speaking-part”
to write and play.
This being the case, his proper course is obvious. Firstly, he should
sit down and write out his part—words and business—precisely as
though he were a dramatist writing a play. Secondly, having done
78 OUR MAGIC
his duty as an author, he should learn his part, precisely as though
he were an actor, pure and simple. Then, and not until then, will he
be in a position to commence the rehearsal of his work as a presenta­
tion. That is the earliest moment at which he will be competent to
rehearse, on the stage, the production he intends to present on the
stage.
From this point onward, the whole procedure should be, so far as
possible, conducted as though an audience were present. There is
some difficulty in so doing, no doubt. Empty seats are a poor sub­
stitute for an audience. Cold blood is a very indifferent stimulus, in
comparison with the excitement of a public performance. The cir­
cumstances are not well adapted to calling forth a performer’s reserve
force, nor are they calculated to aid him in displaying his ability.
Those drawbacks, however, have to be faced at rehearsal by all per­
formers alike. The magical performer cannot expect to provide an
exception to that universal rule. The only way in which his presenta­
tion can be efficiently rehearsed is for him to imagine the empty
seats are filled, to address them as “Ladies and Gentlemen,” and go
through the performance as it will be given “on the night.”
A young performer often imagines that the ease of manner and
ready flow of language possessed by his seniors are more or less spon­
taneous in origin. Even when he has seen a prominent artist present a
certain effect several times, and has noted that the patter and business
do not vary, he merely concludes that the performer has got into the
way of doing and saying the same thing at the same time. But the
fact is that practically every word and action has been most carefully
rehearsed, before the presentation was ever put before the public.
Nothing is ever left to chance by an artist. As we have already
pointed out, art and chance are entirely antagonistic. All that seeming
spontaneity, all that ease of deportment and delivery, are the result
of careful preparation. They depend upon an adherence to artistic
principles and methods, rather than upon natural self-possession or
personal resource. It is only in accidental circumstances that ready wit
and promptitude are called into play. Apart from such contingencies,
an artist always knows beforehand what he intends to say and do.
Relieved of all anxiety in that direction, his mind is free to attend
to the work of actual presentation. If his attention is diverted from
the work in hand by constant anxiety concerning details of which he
is uncertain, he can never do his best. His performance, conse­
quently, is bound to suffer to the precise extent of the anxiety he
feels.
REHEARSAL 79
The general handicap due to nervousness, from which all artists
suffer more or less, cannot be eliminated by any amount of rehearsal.
It is the penalty an artist has to pay for having gained a proper
understanding of his responsibilities. Knowing, as he does, the full
requirements of his art, he is inclined to doubt his ability to perform
his duties efficiently. That feeling, in its acute form, usually wears off
with some rapidity, even during the first presentation of a new effect.
As the performance proceeds, and everything goes aright, the artist
gains confidence from the knowledge that his preparations have been
properly made and, in all probability, he has no reason to dread
failure.
When we see a performer who, with the utmost assurance and
self-conceit, starts off to present a new effect in public, we need feel
no uncertainty in “sizing up” his merit as an artist. He cannot
possibly realize his true position, nor the nature of his responsibili­
ties. He is confident of success, for the simple reason that he does
not understand how serious would be the result of failure. His
courage is born of mental deficiency, not of artistic intelligence.
When, however, his over-confidence leads to disaster, he obtains a
glimmering notion of something lacking in the scheme of creation
which has launched him adrift upon the ocean of life.
There is an anecdote related of two officers who served in the
Crimean War. One was a Major Smith—let us say—and the other we
shall call Captain Brown. Smith was a man who possessed a great
amount of brute courage. He knew no fear, because he could not
understand danger. Brown, on the other hand, was a man who
thoroughly realized danger, but was dominated by a sense of duty
and responsibility. During one particular action, Smith was riding
along the ranks and noticed Brown, very pale and anxious, standing
at his post. The Major pulled up his horse and said, “Hullo, Brown!
You look frightened!” Brown very quietly replied, “Yes, I am
frightened. If you were half so frightened as I am, you would run
away.”
In this little story, we have a complete analogy to the excessive
confidence of the incompetent performer, and the natural diffidence
and nervousness of a real artist. The man who knows no fear requires
no courage. His education is defective. He is confident because he
lacks knowledge. The man who understands danger, and faces it all
the same, has true courage. He has been properly educated. He knows
the extent of his responsibilities and has learned how to do his duty
as it should be done. That is the kind of man to whom the title of
8o OUR MAGIC
artist may be justly assigned, not to the man rendered confident by
ignorance and mental obtuseness.
Passing on to the rehearsal of presentations in which magic and
drama are combined, a very slight amplification of what has been
said is all that is needed. The same general principle of rehearsal in
detail applies to this case also. The dramatic side of the question
merely adds a further department of specialization. Incidentally, of
course, it adds a further cause of possible confusion in rehearsal; and
one which, unless due precautions are taken, will produce great
waste of time in the first place, and, ultimately, defective presentation.
The procedure to be recommended in this instance, although it
may sometimes appear to involve loss of time, is to keep the magical
and dramatic sides of the production entirely separate, until such
time as both have been well rehearsed. In many cases, this may be
thought equivalent to going the longest way round to the end in
view. Appearances, however, are deceptive; and, in such matters,
the longest way round is usually the shortest way home, in point of
time. To rehearse the whole combination before its individual
components have been brought to a reasonable degree of perfection,
can but be to reproduce the conditions described by Tolstoy in the
account we have quoted.
CHAPTER XI
SPEED IN PRESENTATION

I
n magic, speed in presentation is a most important point, artisti­
cally speaking. There are some performers who, with half a
dozen simple tricks, can fill up a two-hour entertainment.
Others there are who can rattle off a score of big effects in as many
minutes. Each class of performer, no doubt, thinks his own method
of presentation the best that can be devised. So it may be—for him.
But the question is, which method, if either, is best for the art of
magic? Allowing for adaptation to personal characteristics, there
must be a certain standard in this respect toward the attainment
of which a magical artist’s aim should be directed. We want to ascer­
tain the logical basis upon which some such standard may be founded.
Hence, in the first place, we must think out the various points
bearing upon this subject, and afterward, make up our minds as to
the conclusion one may deduce from the facts of the case.
Each particular mode of presentation, in point of showmanship,
has certain advantages. The rapid method undoubtedly has the
advantage of giving the spectators plenty for their money. That is to
say, plenty of magic; which presumably is the thing they chiefly
expect from a magician. The slow method, on the other hand, gives
the performer ample opportunity for getting at home with his spec­
tators and making them thoroughly interested in his work. Herein,
again, we are bound to admit the existence of great advantages. In
completely interesting and carrying conviction to the minds of his
audience, a magician unquestionably fulfils the expectations of the
public.
From an artistic standpoint, however, each of these methods has its
disadvantage. When we consider the final impression produced—and
that is the main consideration, so far as art is concerned—we realize
that in neither case can there exist the completeness and satisfaction
of interest which true art demands. The rapid method imposes so
much strain upon the attention of an audience, that complete
appreciation of the effect presented can never be gained. The slow
method, conversely, does not sufficiently occupy the minds of the
spectators in the direction toward which their anticipation has been
led. Thus, it is easy to see, both methods are lacking in certain artistic
[81]
82 OUR MAGIC
essentials. Each comprises too little of the advantage in which the
other excels.
Looking at the matter fairly and squarely, one cannot help feeling
that any presentation which leaves an impression of either indistinct­
ness or over-elaboration has a very serious defect, from whatever
point of view it may be regarded. Even setting aside the question
of art, high or low, the fact that a performance lacks one or other
of the qualities which the public expects a public entertainment
to possess is, in itself, sufficient to condemn the method of presenta­
tion adopted. From a magical entertainer, the public expects two
things—magic and entertainment. The man who gives the public
plenty of magic, but serves it up in such hot haste that his audience
has no time to digest it, merely surfeits the spectators with that par­
ticular requirement, without satisfying their other expectations. He
occupies their attention more than enough, but he does not entertain
them as they rightly expect to be entertained. They have too much
of one good thing and not enough of another. The magic they wish
to enjoy, instead of being served up properly, is thrown at them—
take it or leave it—just as the waitresses at cheap restaurants dump
down the food before their customers. Some people, no doubt, can
put up with such treatment. They get used to it, as eels do to being
skinned. But surely the person who cannot enjoy a meal better
served must have an exceptional constitution. To most people, good
service and time for enjoyment are things to be desired. Satisfaction,
and not indigestion, is what normal beings appreciate.
On the other hand, the performer who spins out his magical
business, by unduly watering it down with patter or other forms of
entertainment, displays a fault of another order, but similar in
degree. Retaining the simile of the restaurant, one may say the service
is far too elaborate and the rations are far too scanty. Or, in the
renowned words of a certain governor of North Carolina, we may
say, “It’s a long time between drinks.” The spectators may be greatly
entertained by the performance, but when it is all over they feel
dissatisfied because they have not obtained what they paid their
money to see. In such conditions, the final effect is as incomplete
and imperfect as when people have been allowed too little time for
appreciation.
There seems little doubt, then, as to the kind of standard to be
adopted in this respect. The rapid method may suit some performers
well, especially those who either lack repose or dispense with patter.
The slow method may recommend itself to those whose strong point
SPEED IN PRESENTATION 83
is either “a gift of gab” or a special ability in ‘‘holding an audi­
ence.” The question of ‘‘personality” or, in other words, individual
characteristics both natural and acquired, must be allowed consider­
able weight in such questions. The man who, although a skilled
magician, has no special ability as an entertainer—who has not that
easy grip of his spectators’ attention which disarms criticism of his
procedure at the moment—is bound to rely for his ultimate success
upon a more or less rapid method of presentation. The man whose
skill is that of an entertainer in the ordinary sense, rather than
that of a specialist in magic, has to rely upon his general ability
more than upon his magical effects. In his case the comparatively
slow method of presentation is essential to success. But ‘‘there is
reason in the roasting of eggs,” as the proverb has it. One man may
find it best to go ahead, another to go slowly; but every man who
professes to give the public good work should remember that,
beyond certain limits, in haste and deliberation alike, good work can
scarcely exist.
No reasonable doubt, we think, can be entertained as to the
standard of rapidity in presentation which is most desirable in
magical performance. The defects inseparable from the respective
extremes simply indicate that the happy medium represents perfec­
tion. The audience must have time to understand, to consider, and
to appreciate the successive items presented, or the final impression
will be confused and imperfect. A magical performance must con­
tain sufficient magic to fulfil the expectations of the audience, or
dissatisfaction, more or less acute, is bound to be the after-effect
produced. In either case, the ultimate result displays artistic short­
comings, which should be corrected. True art and good policy alike
point to the middle course as being best, and to the wisdom of
keeping that course so far as circumstances will permit. It is quite
possible to give the public plenty of magic without reducing one’s
performance to the level of a mere ‘‘show,” devoid of artistic merit.
It is also quite possible to give the public real entertainment without
stinting the supply of magic. There is no difficulty in the matter, one
way or the other. By avoiding redundancy in either direction, the
thing is done automatically.
CHAPTER XII
PATTER

I
ntimately related to the foregoing subject, is that of “patter” in
magical presentations. The diversity of opinion expressed upon
this subject has been extreme. Some have held the view that
patter is all-important in the art of magic. Others have regarded it
as an entirely negligible quantity. Obviously, both views cannot be
right; but nevertheless it is quite possible that both may be wrong.
Indeed, one may feel practically certain that neither opinion can be
altogether correct, however much be said in its support. This seems
to be another instance where the truth rests midway between two
extremes. The fact is that patter is entirely essential in some cases,
and quite unnecessary in others. We shall briefly review the subject
in its various aspects.
Firstly, as to the view that patter is the very salt of magic, and indis­
pensable to the art. Let us see what may be said for and against this
proposition. It is certain that some well-known experiments cannot
conceivably be performed in dumb show; while others, even though
they might be given in silence, would lose immeasurably. The former
class comprises effects in which the initial procedure demands explan­
ation. This may arise from the fact that members of the audience are
required to assist the performer, or for various other reasons. The
latter class consists in experiments such as those involving extensive
preparation, which might prove tedious if not relieved by appropri­
ate remarks and witticisms, and cases wherein some slight diversion
of the spectators’ attention is requisite. Instances of each class will
readily be recalled to mind. Hence, in one case, to dispense with
patter would be simply impossible. In the other case, it would be
most unwise. In either case, artistic presentation demands the em­
ployment of patter, as an inevitable necessity. Thus, the performer
whose repertoire is confined to silent procedure alone, cuts himself
adrift, artistically speaking, from a wide range of effects which would
otherwise be available for his use. This in itself provides a strong
argument in favor of patter. But, at the same time, it in no way
represents proof of the contention that patter is indispensable to
magic, from an artistic standpoint. It merely proves the value of
speech, upon occasion.
[84]
PATTER 85
Turning to the other side of the question, we undoubtedly find
not only effects which lose nothing by being presented in silence, but
also a number which must actually gain in artistic value by that mode
of presentation. Such are those effects which, on the one hand, include
in their performance much that will attract the eye and, on the other
hand, those in which close attention is desirable, on the part of the
audience. In neither class can patter be regarded as an artistic essen­
tial. On the contrary, the introduction of patter where it must be
either unnecessary or detrimental, could only be regarded as an
advantage by those to whom the requirements of art are unknown.
Anything not requisite or, at the least, not tending to enhance the
effect produced, must be a blemish, artistically speaking. Therefore,
we are bound to admit that silent presentation can be perfectly artis­
tic, and that patter is not a necessary constituent of our art, in certain
phases.
Most readers, probably, will remember the “Gibson Girl” case,
wherein it was sought to prove that the title of “actress” could only
be claimed by a lady who played a “speaking part.” This contention
was vigorously opposed by various witnesses whose opinion is of
value. For instance, Mr. Comyns Carr pointed out that Mme. Jane
May, whom he believed to be the greatest actress in the world, never
played a speaking part but always acted in dumb show. That is not
altogether accurate, for we ourselves have seen her play such a part,
and also give very clever imitations of other artists, both in speech
and song. Still, her strong point is voiceless acting; and it would be
absurd to say that, when she ceases to speak and, as in “L'Enfant
Prodigue” conveys every idea by action, she ceases to be either an
actress or an artist.
Once again, we must remember Robert-Houdin’s definition of a
conjurer as an actor who plays the part of a magician. Or, if we wish
to express the same idea in more accurate terms, we may say that a
modern magician is an actor playing the part of a legendary magician.
In any event, the artist in magic is primarily an actor. His manipu­
lative or technical skill, however necessary to complete success, must
be regarded as a secondary consideration, in relation to the artistic
side of his calling. Therefore, whatever may be true of other actors is
equally true of him. If speech is not essential to art in other branches
of dramatic work, it cannot be so in magic. And since speech is
ordinarily an adjunct of the highest importance in drama, it must
be equally so in our own particular case. It follows that, so long as the
silent performer does not introduce effects wherein speech is artisti­
86 OUR MAGIC
cally requisite, and the performer who uses patter does not speak
when the purposes of art would be better served by silence, each is
equally entitled to rank as an artist in magic. Hard and fast opinions,
in either direction, can have no weight in deciding the general
question as to the value, or otherwise, of patter. That question is one
that cannot be decided upon general principles. It can only be
answered in relation to particular conditions. The answer depends
entirely upon the artistic requirements of each individual effect, as
modified by the circumstances in which it is presented. The rules
already set down in this book should provide all the guidance re­
quired, at any time, in forming a just opinion in this respect.
This leads us naturally to the consideration of appropriateness in
patter. Just as there is the need for knowing when one may or should
either use or discard patter, it is equally important to know what
kind of patter to use if and when necessary. One must not only know
when to speak, but also what form of speech to adopt in each instance.
Further, it is requisite to know precisely what form of speech one is
capable of adopting, with proper effect. One may know what ought
to be said; but, unless one can say it properly, it will be better left
unsaid. And it is of no use to think one knows such things. This is a
case wherein it is necessary to make quite sure of one’s ground,
especially in relation to personal characteristics and capabilities. By
study and experience, the ability to form a sound judgment on such
points may be acquired; and yet, for personal reasons, the procedure
known to be correct may not be the best to adopt. Nothing can be
good that is spoiled by improper treatment; and, unless one can carry
out the proper mode of procedure in a competent manner, it would
be far better to adopt a less perfect method, but one within the range
of adequate performance.
As a practical illustration, we shall suppose a performer intends
to present a magical item for which the best mode of introduction
would be a serious, well written, and impressive address. The points
the performer then has to consider are these. Can he be effectively
serious and impressive, and can he write well enough to compose the
requisite address? If these achievements are well within his power, he
need have no hesitation in going ahead. But if, in either respect, his
personal limitations stand in the way of successful achievement, he
should sacrifice something in mode of procedure, in order to bring
the presentation within the scope of his ability. It is always better
to do an imperfect thing well than to attempt to attain perfection and
fail in the endeavor. The transition from art to balderdash may be
PATTER 87
made in a single step. The performer who, understanding his art but
not realizing his own limitations, undertakes more than he can per­
form, is almost certain to take that step from the sublime to the
ridiculous every time.
In writing patter, of course, a performer may obtain assistance.
But, so far as public delivery is concerned, he is bound to do the
work himself. If he undertakes to give an address which is intended
to be impressive, he should be an elocutionist. If the prevailing note
of his address is comedy, he should be a comedian. If what he has to
say is pseudo-scientific, he should be at least something of a scientist.
And so on, throughout the whole range of possible methods. The
complete magician, of course, would possess all such qualifications.
But the complete magician has yet to be born. So far, we are all
compelled to sacrifice something of ambition, on account of our
individual shortcomings.
It is here that the saving grace of good sense steps in, to protect
the artist in magic from disaster. With sufficient good sense, a
magician may easily steer clear of the rocks, shoals, and quicksands to
which his personal limitations might otherwise lead him. So long as
he knows and avoids the courses in which, for him, there is no
thoroughfare, he is safe. But, directly his good sense fails him, he
becomes liable to meet with disaster. The good sense to know wherein
he is lacking in education or ability, wherein his physical peculiarities
represent obstacles to success, wherein he is entirely competent to do
what is required and wherein rests his best chance of gaining public
appreciation, undoubtedly provides the best aid to propriety that any
man can possess. And fortunately, it is an aid that may be gained by
all who will take the trouble to “read, mark, learn, and inwardly
digest’’ a few simple truths, within the reach of every normal intelli­
gence.
The most obvious of the simple truths to which we have alluded
is that the man who lacks education must either be aware of that
fact, or be little better than an idiot. The corollary to this truth is
that the performer who, not being an idiot, is aware of his lack of
education, will take due precaution to avoid mistakes in speaking.
Since he cannot rely upon his own knowledge, he will obtain the
advice and assistance of others who possess the education he has not
acquired. The performer who is wise enough to know that he lacks
education, and yet neglects the precautions which such circumstances
dictate, must be a hopelessly self-satisfied duffer. He is past praying
for, so far as any semblance of art is concerned. But the performer
88 OUR MAGIC
who, lacking education, yet keeps in constant view the deficiencies
from which he suffers and the need for overcoming them, may be as
true an artist as though his education were of the best.
Thus, for example, the man who has not learned to speak gram­
matically must be a fool to speak in public, without first submitting
the text of the speech to somebody able to correct the mistakes he is
bound to make. The man who has not learned French cannot expect
to speak French, except in such manner as to make himself ridicu­
lous, even though he may have consulted someone who knows the
language. The performer who does not understand elocution should
not speak in public without having rehearsed before someone who
can show him where he goes wrong. Above all, the performer whose
accent is low class should never speak in public when circumstances
render such an accent inappropriate.
To a man of brains there can be no difficulty in knowing the right
thing to do, so far as these elementary matters are concerned. The
very smallest amount of gumption serves to prevent danger from
the pitfalls awaiting those who venture beyond the limits of their own
knowledge. So, when a performer trips up over some obstacle which
proper care would have enabled him to avoid, his reputation as an
artist is bound to suffer. And it is not too much to say that of all the
blunders a performer can commit, those connected with mistaken
speech are the very worst. Consequently, they demand the utmost
care in prevention.
In every audience there are sure to be persons to whom verbal
errors are as distasteful as sour gooseberries. A grammatical solecism
or a defect in pronunciation will, figuratively, set their teeth on edge.
What must such people think of a performer who, for instance, calls
a phenomenon a “phenomena”? They can only regard him as one
whose ability is probably on a par with his education. They will
think, and rightly so, that the man who has any capability at all must
at least be capable of avoiding the use of terms which he does not
understand. The misuse of words cannot be regarded as otherwise
than direct evidence of incompetency.
No sensible man can help knowing that all languages abound in
“booby-traps,” for catching the unwary or unskilled speaker. Conse­
quently, every sensible man will take good care to avoid being caught
therein. But there are others; and, unfortunately, some of those
others are magicians. It may be worth while to give an illustration
of the kind of mess such people too often make of their native
English. We shall suppose an address has to be delivered to the
following effect:—
PATTER 89
“The handkerchief that covers the lady’s eyes has been examined
by several members of the audience, each of whom guarantees that
covering to be free from preparation of every kind. Then there can be
no one among those present who doubts the fact that, in circum­
stances such as these, the lady is rendered quite incapable of seeing
what takes place around her. Between you and me, however, blind­
folding and every similar precaution are alike powerless to destroy
the mental sympathy and co-operation that exist between her and
myself. Anything communicated either to her or to me becomes
instantly known to us both, whatever severity may be exercised in the
tests to which either of us has to submit.”
Thus rendered the speech is, obviously, both grammatical and
sensible. Let us now transcribe it as, without exaggeration, it might
be delivered by some performers: —
“The yankerchief tied round Maddy Moselle’s eyes ’ave been
ixamined be several of the audience, each of wich say it is quite
unprepared or faked in the ordinary way, as usual in all performances
of mental thought telepathy like these. Then everyone in the audi­
ence see at once that what we do is quite different altogether, because
trickery and deception is beyond suspicion, and prevents any doubt
about her knowing wot anyone of you do, and me as well. But,
between you and I, blindfolding and all those kind of things makes
no difference to the mental sympathies and similar influence which
exists between the mind of we two. Whatever you tell us pass from
each other, without any possible way of communicating, no matter
what severity of difficult tests are exercised by the audience, who want
to prove if every single one of our statements are not correct, but
entirely without collusion or confederacy.”
Thus muddled, the speech obviously becomes neither grammatical
nor sensible. Yet everyone who reads these words must occasionally
have heard self-styled artists—or probably artistes—make hay of the
English language in precisely that fashion. Unfortunately, the fore­
going is an actual type, rather than a travesty of the diction sometimes
inflicted upon audiences. And, one may rest assured, the artistes
who address educated people in such ruinous phrases are the very
men most likely to attach the highest importance to their own
achievements as “perfeshnals,” and to entertain the greatest contempt
for the “amechure.”
To digress, for a moment, from our present theme, the term
artiste recalls a memory of the late Corney Grain. In one of his later
sketches, he mentioned the resentment he once felt, on hearing
90 OUR MAGIC
himself described as a “comique.” Having all his life given the public
genuine comedy, he had justly earned the title of “comedian,” in
plain English. To be called a “comique” simply implied that his
artistic rank was equivalent to that of any French clown who tries
to be funny. In like manner, it seems to us, the title of “artiste”—
adopted by, and accorded to every nonentity and wastrel who dis­
graces the stage—must be derogatory to the repute of any real artist.
When those who cannot even speak the English they are supposed
to know, seek aggrandizement by adopting titles from the French
they cannot pretend to know, an artist may well consider their ways
and do otherwise. Anyhow, the French terms “comique” and “artiste”
have their exact equivalents in English; and, to the man whose native
language is the latter, the use of such foreign words is entirely
needless. For an English-speaking man to call himself an “artiste” is
mere affectation of a most transparent character. He uses the term
because it sounds and looks more pretentious than “artist,” though its
meaning is just the same; and that reason is self-evident.
Reverting to the subject of patter, here are two quotations from
Aristotle. He says1—“The excellence of diction consists in being per­
spicuous without being mean”; and “In the employment of all the
species of unusual words, moderation is necessary: for metaphors,
foreign words, or any of the others, improperly used, and with a
design to be ridiculous, would That is to
produce the same effect."
say, the improper use of words or phrases is just as ridiculous as
though the intention were to provoke ridicule. That Aristotle knew
what he was talking about is perfectly clear. Yet we, who were born
some two thousand years after his death, still find among us people
who do not seem to understand these simple truths. And few there
are who trouble about learning the right thing to say, or how to say it
properly.
That is not as it should be, by any means. The human race has
existed for some considerable time. During that period, a fair amount
of knowledge has been gathered and made readily accessible to all,
in every department of human activity. The man who, instead of
learning what has been boiled down for his information trusts to luck
in finding out for himself what others discovered ages before he
was born, cannot have sense enough “to come in out of the rain.”
Anyhow, the performer who stands before educated people with the
intention of addressing them in a manner that will impress them
favorably, must use the language that educated people speak. In so
1 Poetics, part 2, sec. 26.
PATTER 91
far as he fails to speak correctly, he will suffer ridicule and lose pres­
tige. He should be master of his own language, though not neces­
sarily a schoolmaster. Pedantry, indeed, is entirely objectionable; but
there is nothing pedantic in speaking properly.
It is impossible to say here all that need be said upon the subject
of patter. An entire treatise might, with advantage, be written upon
it. But, before quitting the subject, there are one or two points to
which we must refer. The first concerns the practice of making
remarks calculated to bring magic into contempt. For example, a
magical humorist can be funny without making fun of his art. If he
says things which tend to lower the public estimation of magic and
magicians, he not only degrades himself and his performance, but
reflects discredit upon the whole magical profession. We cannot
expect to raise the standing of magic and magicians, if the latter
persist in debasing their profession by uncalled-for japes and
“wheezes,” which present their calling in a false light. What respect
can the public have for men who do not respect their own work?
The only possible sentiment that can be aroused is contempt, pure
and simple. Jokes in which magic is allied to humbug, swindling or
chicanery of any kind, can only serve to rank the magician among
swindlers and impostors.
Although patter of that kind is, perhaps, the most detrimental to
our general interests, there are other forms scarcely less objectionable
in practice. Among these the practice of “talking at” the audience
has a prominent place. People do not like to be talked at, whether
they deserve it or not. In fact, the more they deserve it, the less they
relish it. When, for instance, a performer finds his audience un­
demonstrative the very worst plan he can adopt is to show resentment
or to make remarks concerning that fact. To do anything of the kind
can only result in making the spectators self-conscious, and more than
ever reluctant to show appreciation. The people in front of the foot­
lights must, if possible, be taken out of themselves—must be led to
forget their own concerns, and made to think only of the performance
they are witnessing. If induced to reflect upon the relations existing
between the performer and themselves, and made to feel uncomfort­
able about what he thinks of them, spontaneous appreciation and
enjoyment become impossible. All chance of pleasure in the enter­
tainment is destroyed, both for them and for him.
In the same way, references to the hypothetical poverty of magicians
as a class cannot be otherwise than detrimental to us all. Not only
so, the poverty of artists generally has formed a stock subject for
92 OUR MAGIC
jesters since time immemorial. That subject has been done to death,
and should be dropped entirely. The old jokes still raise a laugh,
because some people can only see the jokes they know; but most
people have long been sick of such antiquated substitutes for wit.
Worse still are references to the possible poverty of spectators. It
is bad enough to find a performer suggesting his own familiarity with
the pawn-shop, or his chronic inability to produce a shilling. But
when such jests are made at the expense of the audience, the fault is
ten thousand times more reprehensible. Such themes are not agree­
able to anyone. What must they suggest to (say) the man who has
attended a performance in the hope of finding relief from the memory
of financial troubles? Even the careless youth who has pawned his
watch in order to get money for giving his best girl a treat, cannot
feel very happy when topics of this kind are brought up. Surely, then,
a performer will act wisely in refraining from the use of such debili­
tated jokes as, “I can see a good many chains, but I suppose all your
watches have gone to be repaired, just as mine has.” There would be
nothing particularly witty about such remarks, even were they
original. When let off upon an audience at forty-secondhand, they
have no pretense of merit, nor can they add anything to the general
effect of a performance.
Then, again, remarks concerning the suitability of a performance
to a juvenile audience are undoubtedly objectionable. One often
hears a magician make a sort of apology for introducing a certain
item, on the ground that ‘‘so many young people are present.” Could
there be any readier method of bringing that item into contempt?
Probably not. To present the thing as being especially suited to the
mental capacity of juveniles must suggest to the adults that what
they are about to see is beneath their appreciation. As to the juven­
iles themselves, the result is even more disastrous.
If there is one ambition more common than another to the youth­
ful of either sex, it is the ambition to appear ‘‘grown up” so far as
may be possible. Hence, the mere fact of saying that what one is about
to do will appeal to children especially, is enough to set every juvenile
mind against the performance. Every boy, particularly, draws a
mental distinction between himself and ordinary ‘‘children.” Out of
courtesy to his juniors and to the opposite sex, he may be disposed
to tolerate what pleases children; but he wants to believe that what
pleases him really is something that is suited to the intelligence of his
elders. To suggest that he requires children’s fare can be nothing less
than an insult to his understanding.
PATTER 93
The fact is, children understand a great deal more than their
seniors usually believe. A public performer, at any rate, should be
aware of that fact, and should act accordingly. He has full oppor­
tunity for observing how very little there is that escapes the under­
standing of even quite young children. And if he is capable of
learning from experience, he must know that to profess to bring his
entertainment down to the level of childish intelligence cannot be
good policy, from any point of view whatever.
CHAPTER XIII
STAGE MANNER AND PERSONALITY
oa public performer, the value of an effective personality is
abundantly evident. But, in practice, it is well to understand
the extent to which personality alone is comprised in what
commonly goes by that name. We believe that, to a great extent,
what is called “personality” is by no means a natural possession,
“bred in the bone.” We regard it as being very frequently a composite
manifestation of qualities native and acquired. Habit is second na­
ture, as everybody knows. Therefore, much that passes as personality
may be merely acquired habit; and should, correctly speaking, be
described as the ability to hold the attention and excite the interest
of an audience. That ability, of course, is a personal asset, and one
of great value; but it cannot be regarded as one in which personal
characteristics are exclusively involved. Such influence over an audi­
ence is often due to nothing more than a thorough knowledge of one’s
business, combined with the confidence due to long experience. It is
mainly an acquired habit, and but slightly associated with real per­
sonality.
There may be—indeed, there are—instances in which a performer’s
sole claim to public appreciation has been derived from pleasing
characteristics which nature bestowed upon him. But on the other
hand, there have been performers who, although possessed of no such
natural advantages, could exercise upon an audience all the magnetic
influence that attractive personality could create. Further than that,
some performers, so heavily handicapped by nature that one might
think them possessed of every quality calculated to inspire aversion,
have gained public applause and appreciation. Yes! have even
achieved success in circumstances that would condemn many well-
favored men to failure. The success attained by such men would no
doubt be ascribed by their audiences to “personality.” We, however,
regard the matter in another light. When a man’s natural qualities
are in themselves detrimental to his powers of attracting apprecia­
tion, it cannot be personality that gains for him success in public.
There must be other factors in the problem. There must be some­
thing of such value that it not only renders him successful without
aid from “personality,” but outweighs the detrimental characteris­
tics operating against him, into the bargain.
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STAGE MANNER AND PERSONALITY 95
Such facts as these must have come within the experience of every­
one. In view of these facts, there seems but one conclusion that can
be rationally accepted. We are bound to conclude that what is called
“personality” very often consists in purely artificial methods ac­
quired by the individual, and not natural to him. In others words, it
consists in a knowledge of artistic requirements and of their harmoni­
zation with personal peculiarities. By such means, a performer’s
natural disadvantages may be not only disguised but actually made
useful. The man who can achieve this is an artist, beyond all doubt;
whereas the man who succeeds by virtue of personality alone, can
claim no artistic merit whatever. We owe him no praise for being as
nature made him. But to the man who impresses us favorably, in
spite of nature’s efforts to make him repellent, we owe all the praise
that any artist can deserve.
At the root of this matter there is found the principle stated in
Robert-Houdin’s definition of a conjurer, to which we have so often
alluded. The man is an actor, as every magician should be. He does
not appear to the audience clothed in his own personality. He
assumes, for the time, a personality not his own, but that of the
magician he wishes to represent. It is that assumed personality which
appeals to his spectators, and is by them regarded as his in fact. They
are not allowed to see the man himself, but only the man he intends
them to see. Therein we have the highest art, of acting and magic
alike. We may call it personality if we will, but in truth it is only
personal by acquisition. It is no more a natural endowment than a
suit of clothes, bought and paid for. It has been bought by experience
and paid for by labor and study.
If this is the true state of the case, as it seems to be, there should
exist but few men who are incapable of acquiring a “stage manner”
that will pass for effective personality. A satisfactory “stage presence ”
of course, must depend mainly upon the gifts the gods have given.
But a satisfactory stage manner is a thing possible of acquirement, at
the expense of thought and effort. There may be great difficulty in
learning to play the part adopted. In most cases, perhaps, there is
bound to be great difficulty. What of that? Almost everything worth
doing at all is difficult to do. Hardly anything worth doing is easy to
do. It is all in the day’s work, anyhow. Inferior work, easy to do, can
only succeed by accident. Even then, although it may bring in cash,
it will never bring credit. It will be “easy come, easy go,” and there an
end. Art is cast in another and a very different mold. And an artist,
worthy of the name, cannot expect to have an easy time. The prim­
96 OUR MAGIC
rose path is not for him. Hard days and short nights are his natural
expectation.
It is not difficult to state the requirements of an effective stage
manner in general terms. But it is impossible to define the infinitely
varied needs of individual performers. What may be best in one case,
may be unthinkable in another. In this respect, every performer must
be a law unto himself. He may gain much aid from competent criti­
cism of his procedure, but much more depends upon his own judg­
ment and practical experience. His own common sense, properly
exercised, should be his best guide. Above all, he should never forget
that the opinions of any Tom, Dick, or Harry he may happen to meet
will probably be worthless, and that the opinions of paid assistants
are sure to be misleading. The man whose bread and butter one pro­
vides will naturally say what one would like to hear, even at the ex­
pense of his personal convictions, if such he happens to possess. As a
rule, his only convictions are derived from his employer. What the
“guv’nor” likes must be right. What the “boss” believes, his employee
will swear to—especially if he would get sworn at for doing otherwise.
Still, when a performer finds that Tom, Dick, and Harry unanimously
agree in a certain opinion, he will do well to consider that opinion
dispassionately and seriously.
Confining ourselves to generalities, we may state the requirements
of an effective stage manner as follows: First and foremost, we must
emphasize the need for cultivating an earnest desire to please. That
is absolutely essential to success. The audience can have no expecta­
tion other than that of being pleased by the performance paid for.
People who pay to see what a performer has to show them, do so for
their pleasure. Therefore, it is their pleasure that should have the
chief consideration from the man who receives their money. He is
not there to please himself.
Next in order of importance may be placed the need for under­
standing human nature, especially in relation to public gatherings.
No man thinks or feels the same at all times. The thoughts and senti­
ments of all men vary in accordance with circumstances. Humanity in
the aggregate differs very little from humanity in the individual.
Every audience has its own particular characteristics, just as much as
every person. The general character of either, for the time being,
depends on the resultant influence of many causes acting together.
At a public performance, some of these causes will act in favor of the
performer, others will act against him. The resultant influence will
vary, from time to time, according to the direction in which the
STAGE MANNER AND PERSONALITY 97
causes preponderate. These are facts with which every performer
should be acquainted, and the operation of which he should fully
realize. Unless he can understand that audiences are subject to the
same accidental influences as affect individuals, and can realize that
individuals are merely creatures of circumstance, he is sure to be
misled by appearances. He is sure to think that the apparent attitude
of the audience toward his performance has a personal relation to
himself, either for good or ill. He will think that if the spectators
immediately respond to his efforts he is successful; if they do not,
that it is hopeless to try to please them. Whereas, in actual fact, he
should never pay the slightest attention to the attitude of his spec­
tators. That is an accidental phenomenon, entirely beyond his
control.
When a performer goes upon the stage, he should remember that
he stands before people who have no personal interest in anything
that he does. They may be in the mood to appreciate his work, or
they may not. That has nothing to do with him. If the odds are in
his favor, so much the better for him. If not, so much the worse. In
either case his audience is subject to a variety of influences, to which
must be added the influence he himself can create. So far as he is
concerned, what he has to do is to make his personal influence operate
in his favor, to the utmost. That is all he can do, in any case; and,
whatever may be the odds against him, that is what he should do in
every case.
Another essential is the maintenance of good humor. Since every
audience is subject to the impressions received at the moment, and
good humor in the audience is necessary to a performer’s success,
that is one of the most important impressions he must convey. No
matter how ill-humored an audience may be, the man upon the
stage must appear to be in good humor. In fact, the more out of
humor he may find his audience, the greater the need for a counter­
vailing influence upon his part. His efforts in this direction will never
fail to meet with their due reward.
Diplomacy and expediency may be said to cover the entire ground
in this connection. The performer must deal with his audience diplo­
matically, and act in accordance with the dictates which circumstances
show to be expedient. Firmness of purpose, combined with the ut­
most courtesy, should govern every relation between a performer
and his audience. Conscious ability exercised in the service of one’s
spectators is, perhaps, the most effective aid to success at any time—
whatever else a performer may count to his advantage, or wherever
he may otherwise fail.
CHAPTER XIV
MENTAL ATTITUDE
MONG the characteristics most objectionable in a performer,
self-conceit probably takes first place. There is all the differ­
ence in the world between this and conscious ability. The
latter belongs to the man who knows his own capabilities, which have
been acquired by prolonged study and effort. Self-conceit usually
denotes the man who knows nothing with certainty but vainly
imagines his personal gifts to be superior to all knowledge. Believing
himself a heaven-born genius, he constantly proves himself an un­
mitigated ass. Average audiences will size him up in a moment, and
set up their backs accordingly. They could find no pleasure greater
than that of taking him down a peg or two. That frame of mind is
probably the worst an audience can adopt, so far as a performer’s
interests are concerned. The good-will of spectators is essential to his
success, and their antagonism is to be avoided by every means.
However detrimental to a performer may be the fault of self-
conceit, it is scarcely more so than the failing of self-consciousness. Of
course, when a performer is naturally self-conscious, he must remain
so to the end. He may in time gain great control over his self-con­
sciousness, but he cannot expect to destroy it. Yet, however heavily
he may be handicapped by this defect, he must prevent the public
from knowing how much he is overweighted, or he will never gain
the confidence of his audiences. Some people will pity him; others
will ridicule his efforts to entertain them; but, in the whole crowd,
there will be none who will believe in him. Therefore, the first aim
of every self-conscious performer should be to conceal the nervous
affection with which he is afflicted, and which diverts toward his own
person some of the attention he should devote exclusively to his work.
He must learn the knack of keeping his mind from dwelling upon
what spectators think about him. In short, he must realize that no­
body cares a straw whether or not his necktie is straight, or his
trousers are properly creased down the leg.
The true remedy for this personal failing consists in cultivating the
ability to assume a character more or less foreign to one’s own. That
ability is merely what is demanded of every actor in his daily work.
And, as we have already had to admit, the man who cannot become a
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MENTAL ATTITUDE 99
fairly good actor in one particular line, at least, cannot hope for any
great success as a magician. Hence, the chief study of a self-conscious
magician should be to assume the character of a self-possessed enter­
tainer. Upon his ability to play that part primarily depends his success
as an artist in magic.
A tendency to panic in the event of any hitch occuring, is another
detrimental characteristic. Some people are naturally cool in the face
of an emergency. They may be nervous in the ordinary course of
events, but an emergency steadies their nerves and braces up their
energies. Others, and very often those who possess the artistic
temperament in a high degree, are liable to become agitated and
distracted by any slight mischance. Thus, they suffer considerable dis­
advantage as compared with less sensitive men. Their real merits will
often be overshadowed by this failing, while men of inferior ability
but who are able to keep cool may gain repute far in excess of their
deserts.
This defect also is capable of correction by means of mental train­
ing, as in the case of self-consciousness. The best remedy consists in
acquiring a due sense of proportion, and bearing in mind Hamlet’s
words—“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes
it so.”
At all times, a performer should remember how greatly his own
attitude may influence the thoughts of his spectators. His views and
impressions may not always be shared by those who witness his per­
formance. The audience may not be disposed either to accept his
abilities at his own valuation, or to agree with the opinions he ex­
presses. But it is practically certain that the relative importance of
any detail in his performance will be estimated by his own attitude
toward it. Thus, any exhibition of panic or discomfiture at once in­
vites the contempt and derision of his audience. Whereas, if he can
only control his faculties sufficiently to make light of an accidental
mischance, the audience will hardly give a second thought to the
circumstance.
Those who perform in public must invariably be prepared to
make the best of whatever may happen, even of the very worst that
can possibly happen. This can only be done by discarding everything
in the nature of agitation or worry, which are the surest means for
making the worst of any conceivable situation. Distractions of that
kind only waste energy which should be employed to better ends, in
providing a remedy for whatever may be wrong. Even though the
worst may happen, and there is no possibility of finding a way out of
lOO OUR MAGIC
some difficulty or other, it is not a matter of life or death, and the
performer therefore need suffer no great anxiety. Even though he
must tacitly confess to complete failure in one of his feats, he has no
cause for serious distress. There is always another day tomorrow, in
which present defeat may be turned to victory. His immediate aim
should be to minimize the importance of his mishap, so far as may be
possible. In outward appearance, at any rate, he should make light of
it. If he can do no better, he should simply laugh at his own ill-luck
and pass on to his next item. A well chosen witticism concerning the
malignity of matter, the total depravity of inanimate objects, or the
natural uncertainty attending the “schemes of mice and men” will
usually turn the laugh in his favor. When a mishap can be passed off
in this way, ridicule is disarmed at once and no unfavorable impres­
sion remains in the minds of spectators. On the other hand, when
a performer displays vexation and anxiety with regard to a mishap, he
merely assists in turning the laugh against himself. To laugh at the
discomfiture of others is a natural tendency of humanity at large and,
in this respect, all audiences are very human indeed. If anything goes
wrong—or, rather, we should say when anything goes wrong, the
audience is almost sure to laugh. Therefore, it is for the performer
to see that his spectators laugh with him—and not at him, as they are
sure to do if he loses his head.
CHAPTER XV
THE IMPORTANCE OF ARTISTIC PRINCIPLES

H
AVING now covered the range we had mapped out for this
section of our book, we shall end with a few remarks upon
the real importance of our subject. It is to be feared that
the majority of readers will largely fail to grasp the true significance
of much that we have said. Not that we attach supreme value to our
own contributions to general knowledge, but that portions of the
subject itself will probably be regarded as of little consequence in
practice. The aspect in which we have viewed the matter is by no
means novel in connection with art in general. In relation to magic,
however, our point of view is so unusual that many people are sure
to think we have been trying to put forward ideas which are entirely
novel, and at times somewhat eccentric.
We beg to assure those who have formed any such opinions that
they are entirely mistaken in their conclusions. What we have said
about Art in Magic has its foundation in what has long been said and
accepted in connection with other arts. The views we have expressed
have their analogues in the views long since adopted by exponents
of other arts, and endorsed by the highest authorities upon art of
every kind. Thus, we have not attempted the creation of new princi­
ples or new standards, but have merely adapted to the art of magic
those principles and standards already common to art in general.
In order to bring magic into line with other arts the first step,
obviously, must be to associate with it those principles and traditions
whereby other arts are governed. In so doing, there is no question of
bringing magic under the control of artificial and needless conven­
tions. The accepted ideas of artistic rectitude have not been pres­
cribed by illogical tyranny. They are conceptions evolved, in the
course of ages, through the mental activity of many able men, to
whom experience gave wisdom in their respective generations. If we
wish to prove the claim of magic to rank upon an equality with other
arts, we must first of all establish its relation to recognized artistic
principles and ideals, both in theory and in practice.
In this respect, the greatest danger to be feared consists, not in the
possible opposition of young magicians seeking a royal road to
success, but in the antagonism of those who have already fought their
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102 OUR MAGIC
way to the front rank and, by virtue of their innate sense of artistry,
have become successful exponents of magic. This latter class repre­
sents the greatest potential stumbling-block to be dreaded by those
who realize the proper course to pursue. The reason is that men who,
by rule of thumb, have learned something of artistic presentation are
the least likely to appreciate the value of systematic knowledge. So
long as they are able to stumble successfully along the paths of art,
without knowing exactly where they want to go until they get there,
they cannot understand why any other method should be preferable.
In the light of their own practical experience, they can eventually
reach a position somewhere in the vicinity of their proper destina­
tion, and with that they are content. That is what they regard as
artistic procedure. It never occurs to them that, by systematizing the
knowledge they possess, they could learn how to avoid the uncertainty
they feel at every step they take, and how to go straight to their
destination instead of having to grope their way along devious side­
tracks.
As to those who have not the aid of long experience to rely upon,
there can be no doubt of the value to them of definite principles
whereby their proper course may be decided, thus securing freedom
from many disasters which would otherwise be inevitable. Since they
have to learn their business somehow, they may as well learn it
properly. It is quite as easy to learn in either way, and the proper way
will save them a lot of trouble in the end. If, in addition to the how
of their business (as represented by “tips,” “wheezes,” “sleights,” and
“fakes”), they will also learn the why (as revealed by a knowledge of
artistic principles), they will find great advantage therein, increasing
constantly with experience gained.
Hence, to those magicians who are still in the early stages of their
careers, we earnestly suggest the advisability of giving due attention
to the aspect in which we have presented to their view the art they
profess to esteem—which they profess to regard as something higher
than a mere source of profit. We do not ask them to take anything for
granted. The blind acceptance of any doctrine whatever is a thing
we would advise them to avoid at all times, as a most pernicious fault.
We only ask them to think for themselves, and to think seriously. It
was the late Professor Huxley, we believe, who said that “irrationally
held truths are more harmful than reasoned errors.” Anyhow, that
fact and the necessity for bringing reason to bear upon ignorance and
indifference are the essential points we have tried to illustrate.
To those magicians who have already achieved success and estab-
IMPORTANCE OF ARTISTIC PRINCIPLES 103
lished a claim to artistic merit, we would say that what we have
written is no new thing intended to supplant the knowledge they pos­
sess, or to oppose the experience they have gained. If they will only
efface from their minds all prejudice and bias, they will surely find
that we have simply put into definite shape and order the considera­
tions upon which their experience has been founded, and from which
their knowledge has been derived.
To all magicians alike, we would say that unless and until they
study their art upon lines such as we have endeavored to indicate, any
real elevation in the status of magic must be impracticable. Due
recognition of the artistic claims of magic and magicians can only be
brought about by proving that those who practise magic are some­
thing more than common jugglers, on the one hand, or common
mechanical tinkers, on the other hand. Illusionists, prestidigitators,
and general practitioners alike, must give proof of their artistic
qualifications. This they can only do by realizing that magic is
essentially an intellectual pursuit, and treating it as a true art—not
merely as an embodiment of more or less intelligent skill.
We do not claim to have said the last word upon this subject, nor
to have set down infallible precepts throughout the entire course of
our inquiry. We are well aware that innumerable details of more or
less importance have been left untouched, and we have probably ex­
pressed some views, upon minor points, which may be more or less
open to question. Yet, with regard to general principles, we are
fairly confident of having kept within the bounds of reasonable
accuracy. Our immediate aim has been to induce magicians to think,
by giving them something worth thinking about. We are well aware
that there exists no class of men whose work receives more earnest
thought than that of the average magician. What we suggest is that,
although magicians are studious and energetic men, they too often
fail to think artistically. They are too liable to regard their profession
as a branch of “show business,” rather than a branch of true art. In
this section we have tried to help them in correcting that failing, by
pointing out the lines along which their ideas must run if, by virtue
of their calling, they expect to rank as artists. Being public enter­
tainers, they have open to them the path which leads to artistic repute
of no mean order. If they do not choose to follow that path, they can­
not expect to attain a high position in the world of art. Not only so,
every magician who turns his back upon the road to artistic merit
helps to degrade the status of the entire magical profession, and to
create obstacles to the advancement of magic itself.
104 OUR MAGIC
Although, in our endeavor to correct certain errors, we may have
fallen here and there into errors of another kind, we feel no com­
punction on that score. No man is infallible, and only one man is
supposed to be so. Even he could scarcely be expected to make no
mistakes in dealing with questions concerning any form of art. The
Pope himself could not hope to settle such questions right off the
reel. If we have succeeded in providing food for discussion, and in
persuading some of our fellows to think about and discuss the points
we have raised, that is all we can reasonably hope to have achieved.
We have simply done our best to carry out work which somebody
was bound to undertake, because the necessity had become impera­
tive. Our future responsibility in the matter will be confined to aid­
ing whatever efforts others may make in correcting or amplifying the
views we have stated. We are confident that, as time goes on, the
importance of this particular aspect of magical theory will become in­
creasingly evident, at any rate to those who give the subject their
honest and unbiased attention.
PART II
THE THEORY OF MAGIC
CHAPTER I
TERMINOLOGY

T
o say that modern magic is dominated by confusion of ideas
would scarcely be an overstatement of the case. As a natural
consequence, the study of magic is too often conducted upon
lines that demand a maximum expenditure of energy in obtaining a
minimum of resultant benefit. The student is improperly occupied
in a protracted attempt to evolve order out of chaos; endeavoring to
straighten out for himself a path which should already have been
made straight for him. Instead of being devoted to a definite and
straightforward course of study, his mind is condemned to wander
aimlessly among a multitude of apparently disconnected details,
which are subject to no general laws, and are devoid of everything in
the nature of system or order. Indeed, the chaotic state into which the
technical side of magic has been allowed to drift leaves the student
in much the same plight as that of an untrained boxer who is told to
“go in and win.”
To many people, indeed, it may come as a surprise to learn that
any such thing as a theory of magic can possibly exist. The idea that
magic is necessarily an exact science, capable of systematic treatment,
seems lost to view as a rule. The commonly accepted notion is that the
technical side of magic consists in a heterogeneous conglomeration of
odds and ends; of isolated facts and dodges which are beyond correla­
tion. This unsatisfactory state of affairs, of course, is but an obvious
consequence of the disorder in which magical science has become
involved, throughout its entire constitution.
There is, as we propose to show, no reason why magic should be
subjected to this exceptional disadvantage. Its technicalities are no
more heterogeneous than are those of physical sciences in general.
The facts and principles it embodies are no less amenable to order
than are analogous details included in other subjects. In short, the
technical side of magic is readily capable of being systematized and
co-ordinated upon a scientific basis, and accordingly reduced to the
form of a complete and harmonious system, governed by rational
theory.
The false conceptions that prevail in reference to magic are, we
believe, largely due to the looseness of phraseology which, among
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other slipshod characteristics, has been fostered by performers and
public alike. In other subjects, no doubt, there often exist matters
which are doomed to popular misconception. But probably magic
stands preeminent among subjects which are generally misunder­
stood. In most subjects, however, the theory has been amply investi­
gated, the essential facts and principles have been clearly
demonstrated, and the meanings of technical terms definitely pre­
scribed. In magic, on the contrary, such matters have received but
scant attention, with the result that chance and not system has
governed its development and progress. Thus, we find the subject
interwoven with ill-arranged ideas which, in turn, have given rise to
a vagueness of definition, making confusion worse confounded.
Take, for example, the word “trick.” Apart from magic, every­
body knows its meaning. But when used in connection with things
magical, the word “trick” becomes not only vague as to its definition,
but also a most fertile source of misunderstanding and false judg­
ment. Worst of all, the term is so dear to magical performers that they
cherish it, in all its vagueness, as something even more precious and
more deeply significant than “that blessed word Mesopotamia.” It is
made applicable to almost anything and everything relating to magic,
apart from either rhyme or reason. The result naturally produced
by such folly might readily be foreseen. The public has become edu­
cated in the belief that magic consists in the doing of “tricks,” and in
nothing beyond that (presumably) trivial end. At the same time, as
we have already noted on page 39, there has arisen the habit of
associating magical presentations with the appliances or accessories
used therein, and of regarding as practically identical all experiments
in which a certain accessory or form of procedure is adopted.
Now, it cannot be too clearly understood that magic does not solely
consist in the doing of tricks; nor can it be too often impressed upon
the public that the object of a magical performance is not the offer­
ing of puzzles for solution. But so long as magicians insist upon mis­
calling their feats by the name of “tricks,” so long will the public
insist upon regarding magic as being primarily intended to invite
speculation upon “how it is done.” Professor Hoffmann, the dean of
magical writers, has expressed himself in no uncertain tone con­
cerning the persistent misuse of this unfortunate work “trick.” To
him, the description of a magical feat or experiment as a “trick” is
utterly abhorrent. He objects, as we do, to that misuse of the word. He
prefers, as we do, the word “experiment.” Clearly, in any magical
presentation, the “trick” must be the means whereby a certain end is
TERMINOLOGY 109
attained or promoted. It is the cause which produces a certain result,
and cannot possibly be both means and end together. Therefore, to
describe a magical experiment, feat, or presentation as a “trick,” is
a “terminological inexactitude” of the first order. It is an offense
against good sense and artistic propriety, deserving the fullest con­
demnation. We ourselves are at times compelled to use the word in
this illegitimate sense, because it has been incorporated in the titles
of certain well known experiments. We do so, however, with extreme
reluctance, and only under protest.
It is obvious that, before one can attempt a rational statement of
any kind, all parties concerned must definitely understand the mean­
ing attached to the terms in which that statement is to be made.
Otherwise, it is impossible to convey accurate information. Hence, at
the outset, our treatment of magical theory must embody a few re­
marks, by way of clearing up some of the misconceptions and slip­
shod vagaries associated with the terms employed. There is no need
to deal categorically with the errors prevalent in this connection; nor,
indeed, to do so much as enumerate them. It will be sufficient for us
to set down the meanings which ought to be attached to the terms
we use, and which are accordingly intended to be understood herein.
The first and most important definition, of course, is that of the
term “magic” itself. In ancient times, the word implied the setting
aside of natural laws, in some manner or other. But since the ancients
had a very limited knowledge of the laws of nature—or, practically,
no accurate knowledge whatever, concerning the forces by which the
laws of nature are made manifest—“magic” was once a term used to
denote the cause of any event or achievement beyond the explana­
tion of popular intelligence. In much the same way, modern investi­
gators of so-called “psychical” phenomena describe as supernormal
any event for the occurrence of which physical science is not yet able
to account. Nevertheless, we who live in the twentieth century are,
or should be, aware that the laws of nature cannot possibly be con­
travened. They may be set in mutual opposition, but they cannot
otherwise be overcome or defied. The forces of nature, humanly
speaking, are incapable of either destruction or suspension. There­
fore, at the present day the term “magic” must have a meaning very
different from that assigned to it in bygone centuries. The only mean­
ing it can now possess must relate to the apparent, not actual defiance
of natural laws.
Modern magic, therefore, deals exclusively with the creation of
mental impressions. We cannot perform real miracles, as everybody
110 OUR MAGIC
is well aware. We can only perform feats which look like miracles,
because the means whereby they are performed have been skilfully
screened from observation. Therefore, in order to define the nature
of modern magic, we must find some formula that will represent the
common foundation of all the apparently miraculous effects we pro­
duce. Since those effects are not really, but only apparently, due to
miraculous processes, there is no difficulty in arriving at a satisfactory
definition of the meaning now applicable to the word “magic.” Here
it is:—
Magic consists in creating, by misdirection of the senses, the mental
impression of supernatural agency at work.
That, and that only, is what modern magic really is, and that mean­
ing alone is now assignable to the term.
The modern magician does not deceive his spectators—that is to
say, the legitimate magician. The modern charlatan, of course, has
no more conscience than his predecessors. He will deceive anybody
who will give him the chance, and he will try to deceive even those
who don’t; just to make sure of missing no possible opening for
chicanery. He and the legitimate magician, however, are as far apart
as the poles, in aim and procedure. A legitimate magician never de­
ludes his audiences as to the character of his performance. He makes
no claim to the possession of powers beyond the scope of physical
science. Neither does he, while rejecting the suggestio falsi substitute
in its place the suppressio veri. That method is one frequently
adopted by charlatans in magic. The latter gentry often refrain from
committing themselves to any definite statement on the subject of
their powers. In effect, they say to their spectators, “We leave you to
decide upon the nature of our feats. If you can explain the methods
we employ, you will know that what we do is not miraculous. If, on
the other hand, you cannot explain our methods you will, of course,
know that we have the power to work miracles.”
Since the majority of people attending public performances cannot
explain the simplest devices used in magic, it is scarcely likely that
persons of such limited capability will arrive at any satisfactory ex­
planation of processes involving even a moderate degree of com­
plexity. Consequently, the mere reticence of the charlatan suffices to
convince many people that “there is something in it.” So there is, no
doubt; but, usually, not much—certainly, nothing such as the inno­
cent dupe conceives.
The distinguishing characteristic of a legitimate magician is his
straightforwardness. He makes no false pretenses, either by sugges­
TERMINOLOGY 111
tion, implication, or reticence. This present treatise of course, relates
only to legitimate magic; and, therefore, our definition of the term
is limited to misdirection of the senses, exclusively. We have nothing
to do with fraudulent or semi-fraudulent deceptions of intelligence,
as practised by unscrupulous adventurers.
The misdirections of sense which constitute magic as a whole, may
be divided into three groups, according to the nature of the processes
upon which they are respectively based. Thus, magical processes are,
in character, either Manipulative, Mental, or Physical. These groups
represent the three technical orders of magic.
Each of these orders may be subdivided into various Classes or
Types, according to the general nature of the principles they include.
Each Class or Type may, again, be subdivided into minor groups,
according to the particular Principles or Methods respectively in­
volved.
Each of these latter groups may be further subdivided into specific
categories, in accordance with the particular tricks or devices in
which the various principles or methods are utilized.
Lastly, we have the subdivision of classes into specific groups, de­
termined by the nature of the results attained.
It would of course be possible to classify magical processes still
further, in accordance with the objects used in connection with them,
and other details of staging and procedure, but no useful purpose
could be served by so doing. From the foregoing dissection of magic,
we arrive at a number of definitions, as follows:—
A magical Process is essentially a means for misdirection of the
spectator’s senses. It belongs to one of the three Orders of magic—
Manipulative, Mental, or Physical.
The Type of a magical process implies the general character of the
principles it embodies.
A magical Principle or Method is a basis upon which a number of
tricks or devices may be founded.
A magical Trick or Device is an invention, by means of which a
certain principle is utilized for the production of a given result.
A magical Effect is the final result, due to the use of a certain trick
or tricks in combination.
A Feat of magic consists in the successful performance of a magical
experiment—the accomplishment of a magician’s intended purpose.
A magical Experiment consists in attempting the production of a
magical effect—or, in other words, the attempted accomplishment of a
feat of magic.
112 OUR MAGIC
In accordance with these definitions any magical experiment may
be traced to its origin or, at any rate, be assigned to its proper place
in the general scheme. It must not, however, be imagined that a magi­
cal experiment is necessarily confined within the limits of one group,
class, or order. On the contrary, it may embody a number of individ­
ual tricks or devices, each of which is referable to its own particular
line of origin. This point will become increasingly evident as we pro­
ceed. Incidentally, it will serve to demonstrate the utter absurdity of
describing a magical experiment as a “trick.” Such experiments not
only may, but usually do, include quite a number of tricks, entirely
diverse in character. The combination of those tricks for the purpose
of producing a certain effect constitutes an invention, which could be
protected by law. The production of that particular result, by means
of that combination of tricks, constitutes a magical feat. The presenta­
tion of that feat, with a view to producing an intended effect, con­
stitutes a magical experiment. It is, beyond question, an experiment;
because its success must depend upon the performer’s ability, coupled
with a fortuitous absence of adverse circumstances.
With this preamble, we may now proceed to the systematic dissec­
tion of magical theory, upon common-sense lines. We hope to show,
presently, the foundations upon which modern magic is based, the
manner in which the entire superstructure of magical achievement
has been raised, the possibilities awaiting development at the hands
of magicians, and also the directions in which future developments
may most readily be brought about. We do not aim at the description
of any and every magical feat ever performed. The existing literature
of magic amply provides for the needs of those who seek to know
“how it is done.” Rather, we wish to aid originality by giving original
explanations and suggesting original ideas.
CHAPTER II
GENERAL ANALYSIS
e have already pointed out that magical technics may be
dealt with under three principal headings, according to
the nature of the processes involved. Thus, we have the
three Orders of Magic—Manipulative, Mental and Physical.
Manipulative Magic is that which depends upon what is called
“sleight-of-hand.” In other words, it is a form of jugglery.
Mental Magic is the branch comprising, mainly, the various secret
processes which a performer “works out in his head,” during his per­
formance.
Physical Magic, by far the most extensive and most important
branch, includes those processes which depend upon the use of me­
chanical appliances, or other adaptations of the physical sciences in
general.
These three groups, as we have previously stated, are fixed and
determinate only so far as concerns the typical processes used in
magic. They must not be regarded as a classification of magical experi­
ments. In fact, very few of such experiments are dependent upon one
order of magic alone; while, in many cases, they involve a combina­
tion of all three orders. These subdivisions of the subject relate to the
general character of magical processes, rather than to the feats or
presentations in which those processes are employed. The due dis­
tinction between experiments and their associated processes is of
considerable importance in magical theory.
Passing on to the subdivision of respective orders according to
class or type of process, we find that Manipulative Magic has four
departments. These may be set down under the headings of Pre­
arrangement, Concealment, Interposition, and False Handling.
Mental Magic is not so readily divisible in accordance with the
actual type of processes employed, since the matter is so largely com­
plicated by extraneous assistance of various kinds. Still, for prac­
tical purposes, there are three subdivisions which will be found
satisfactory. These are Thought Transference, Memorization, and
Divination.
Physical Magic can be appropriately subdivided, according to the
departments of science or invention to which its component types
respectively may be assigned. Thus, there are six classes in this branch
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114 OUR MAGIC
of magic, viz., the Mechanical, Optical, Acoustic, Electrical, Chemi­
cal, and Molecular.
The foregoing classes or types may, again, be subdivided into
groups according to the various principles or methods involved, as
follows: —
Manipulative Magic
CLASS OR TYPE PRINCIPLE OR METHOD
Collusion
Prearrangement Disposition
Preparation
Covering
Concealment Disposal
Retaining
Loading
Interposition Duplication
Substitution
Forcing
False Handling Securing
Transposition
Mental Magic
CLASS OR TYPE PRINCIPLE OR METHOD
Code Work
Thought Transference Secret Speech
Secret Conveyance of Documents
Duplicate Reading
Memorization Artificial Memory
Counting Down
Clairvoyance
Divination Discovery
Prediction
Physical Magic
CLASS OR TYPE PRINCIPLE OR METHOD
Outer Casing
Concealed Access
Secret Cavity or Receptacle
Diverse Formation
Mechanical Double Facing
Concealed Mechanism or Motive
Power
Concealed Connection
Invisible Suspension
GENERAL ANALYSIS 115
Mirror Masking
Reflected Images
Optical Transparent Reflectors
Lantern Projection
Background Work
Chiaroscuro
Misdirection by Sound
Acoustic Conveyance of Sound
Disguise by Sound
Conveyance of Motive Power
through Supports
Electrical Trigger Action by Current
Ignition
Electrotelegraphy and Teleph­
ony
Apparent Transformation of Sub­
stance
Chemical Ignition
Change of Color by Chemical Re­
action
Invisible Writing
Change of State, from solid to
liquid, from either to gaseous,
Molecular or vice versa
Change of Color, Properties, or Di­
mensions by variation in tem­
perature, pressure, etc.
Beyond this point we do not propose to carry the classification of
magical technics. The two remaining subdivisions, although un­
doubtedly essential to the theory of magic, can only be dealt with in a
general sense. The items are in fact too numerous for tabulation and
fortunately there is no need for attempting the work. The foregoing
analysis will suffice for all purposes in which detailed classification is
really necessary.
In this connection, there is one matter that well deserves attention.
We have made an exhaustive analysis of the principal components
embraced in the subject of magic. We have set down a list of the
general principles, methods, and types of process comprised in the
technical side of magic. Yet in this catalog of essential constituents,
forming the very basis of magic, there is not included one single
trick. We commend this reflection to those who believe magic to
consist wholly in “tricks.”
116 OUR MAGIC
It is not until we have classified the principles and methods em­
ployed in magic, that we come to the particular tricks or devices in
which those technical principles and methods are embodied. Thus a
“trick” is but a very small thing, in comparison with other essentials
in magic. It is but a particular detail in the general scheme—an im­
portant detail, no doubt, but not of supreme importance. More often
than not, it could be replaced by an entirely different device, which
would answer the same purpose equally well.
This fact becomes evident when we pass on to the final subdivision,
according to the results attained by means of magical tricks—the
final subdivision, it must be remembered, from a technical stand­
point. On artistic and other grounds, it would be possible to continue
the subdivision of magic indefinitely. Technically, however, the im­
mediate result produced by the employment of a certain trick repre­
sents the ultimate basis for classification.
By way of practical illustration, we shall suppose that some member
of a magician’s audience has chosen a card from a pack handed to
him. The performer takes the pack, and begs the spectator to replace
his chosen card therein. The card, accordingly, is replaced. In the act
of turning toward the stage, the performer makes the “pass,” and
brings the chosen card to the top of the pack ready to be produced in
any manner preferred. Now let us analyze this procedure, which is
common enough, in all conscience.
To begin with, we have a certain result—the finding of a chosen
card. In producing this result, a certain trick was employed—the
“pass.” That trick embodies a certain principle or method—trans­
position. The principle in question belongs to a certain class or type
of process—false handling. And, finally, the type of process described
as “false handling” belongs to the order of manipulative magic.
In like manner, every magical operation may be subjected to tech­
nical analysis, and thereby a clear understanding may be gained of its
true nature and position in the general theory of magic. Of course,
not every result attainable by magical processes is so simple as the
foregoing in its genesis. Some results are due to a combination of
processes, each of which has its own separate origin. But, however
simple or however complex may be the operations concerned in pro­
ducing a given result, their source or sources can be traced quite
readily. It is in such systematic forms of investigation that the science
of magic has its foundation. And it is by such means alone that ac­
curate conceptions are to be obtained, and rational progress facili­
tated, in consequence.
CHAPTER III
MISDIRECTION

T
hat time-worn fallacy, “the quickness of the hand deceives
the eye,” might well form the text for the present chapter.
As an example of how not to do it, the catch-phrase in ques­
tion cannot easily be surpassed. Its falsity is so glaring, the principle
it embodies is so impossible—and for obvious reasons—that one can
only marvel at the audacity which first offered such a flagrant howler
for public acceptance. Yet in spite of its palpable absurdity, that
ancient legend has not only been accepted as gospel by the public,
but has also received professional endorsement, times out of number.
This is misdirection, with a vengeance; but it is not the kind of mis­
direction which, as we have said, constitutes the fundamental basis of
magic.
No! The form of misdirection represented by the phrase we have
quoted can only be described as lying, pure and simple. The quick­
ness of even a highly skilled hand cannot deceive an attentive eye,
however untrained the latter may be. In fact, of all possible move­
ments, one that is rapid is most likely to attract attention. Still, the
world undoubtedly believes that a magician’s success largely depends
upon the quickness of his movement. And it may be whispered, one
occasionally meets with professional magicians who entertain much
the same belief. This fact is typical of the confusion associated with
matters magical, in every department.
The misdirection which forms the groundwork of magic does not
consist in telling lies, with the object of deceiving the spectator’s
intelligence. It consists admittedly in misleading the spectator’s
senses, in order to screen from detection certain details for which
secrecy is required. It militates against the spectator’s faculties of
observation, not against his understanding. Broadly, it may be said
to comprise three general methods, viz.—Distraction, Disguise, and
Simulation. Every means employed by magicians for misdirecting
the senses of an audience, will be found allied to one or other of those
elementary principles.
The principle of distraction is, perhaps, that most commonly
utilized. It operates by direct appeal to the spectator’s observation,
whereby the latter is drawn away from whatever the performer wishes
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118 OUR MAGIC
to conceal. It is a “red herring drawn across the scent,” so to speak;
and the introduction of such red herrings is often an important item
in the procedure connected with a magical experiment. The more
direct the challenge, the more certain is observation to be drawn
toward the quarter in which the distraction arises. The more hap­
hazard the distraction appears to be, the less likely it is to arouse
suspicion as to its true purpose. A carefully prearranged “accident”
is the most perfect form of misdirection—for one occasion only. It
will not work efficiently twice, with the same spectators.
For point-blank distraction, we can recall no better example than
that provided by a foreign performer, who appeared in London
some years ago. Speaking no English, he employed an interpreter,
who spoke some English—though not anything excessive. Holding
up, say, a borrowed ring, the performer would remark “Voici la
bague!” the interpreter immediately following on with “And here is
a piece of paper!” The latter sentence, being uttered in a very loud
voice, created a distraction which took away all observation from the
performer, giving him an opportunity to submit the ring to a process
of transposition. When the eyes of the audience had returned to the
performer, the original bague was represented by deputy.
It is, however, very seldom that distraction of so direct a nature as
this can be employed. More often than not, the distraction is derived
mainly from some action on the part of the magician himself. Hence,
we learn the importance of the maxim that, when a magician has
anything “magical” to do, he should never look at what he is doing.
For, above all other actions, a movement of the performer’s eyes is
the most certain to be followed by an audience—a very fortunate
thing for the magician, too, so long as he bears the fact in mind. If,
owing to nervousness or uncertainty, he permits his eyes to glance at
what he does not want the audience to see, hundreds of eyes will take
the same direction at once.
A magical performer should practise the art of “looking out of the
corner of his eye.” It is not a difficult art to acquire; and, at times,
may be found extremely handy. The schoolmaster, with head bent
down and eyes intently fixed upon the answer he is correcting, has
no difficulty in detecting Smith, Junior, who is playing the goat
behind the end form. In like manner, a magician should be able
to see almost everything he can need to see, without actually looking
at it. No doubt some eyes are better adapted than others for this
purpose, while in most eyes there is one particular direction in which
this sidelong vision is easiest to manage. But, in any case, it is worth
MISDIRECTION 119
a magician’s while to see what can be done by practice. There need
be no time wasted over it, as the method can be practised anywhere
and at any odd moment.
A familiar example of misdirection by gaze is that of looking at
the wrong hand, during manipulative feats. The billiard ball, let us
say, has been passed (apparently) from the right hand to the left.
Both hands have their backs to the audience, the left fingers being
closed as though grasping the ball, and the right fingers outspread
as though the ball were not still in that hand. Meanwhile, the per­
former stares hard at his left hand until such time as the supposed
ball has been dribbled away to nothingness. It would be interesting
to know if any spectator is ever misled by this particular maneuver.
Not very often, one would imagine. Anyhow, it illustrates our point
very forcibly. No matter how unskilful a performer may be, when
presenting this little feat of manipulation he feels instinctively the
urgent need for keeping his eyes fixed upon the hand which does
not contain the ball. It is not until his right hand drops to the bend
of his right knee, or rises to the tip of his left elbow, that he feels
safe in looking where the ball really is.
When, in addition to looking in a certain direction, the performer
points toward and calls attention to a particular object, the distrac­
tion thus created is very potent indeed. However seasoned to magic
a spectator may be, the three-fold challenge thus issued to his observa­
tion is practically certain to attain its end. It would be strange
indeed if he failed to glance at least in the direction indicated.
In the main, distraction may be said to consist in the interpolation
of non-essentials; i.e., matters which occupy the attention of the
audience, to the exclusion of essential details in procedure or con­
struction. Sometimes the distraction may consist in simple inci­
dentals, such as the entrance of an assistant at a critical moment.
Sometimes it may consist in the introduction of suspicious-looking
actions or accessories, which have nothing to do with what is going
on. But at all times, a magician should remember that the least
efficient form of misdirection is anything which depends upon
insisting upon the obvious. To call attention to something that all
may see for themselves may distract the attention of a few—or perhaps
not. At the best, it is a risky procedure, and one to be avoided. To
be efficient, a distraction must present some element of surprise,
interest, or novelty, either in itself or in reference to what has gone
before.
Misdirection by disguise consists in a skilful blending of suspicious
120 OUR MAGIC
and innocent details in such manner that the former are overlooked.
In other words it depends upon making “fakey” things look as
though they were free from sophistication. The real inwardness
of this principle is far too often unrecognized by magicians, though
an audience will never lose sight of it.
Some magicians, indeed, seem to act upon a principle entirely
opposite to the foregoing. Instead of doing all they can do to disguise
the “fakey” nature of their accessories and movements, they seem
to think that everything they use, and everything they do, should
be made to look as “fakey” as possible. All their appliances are
obviously “conjuring apparatus”; all their movements are designed
to convey the impression of manipulative skill. Every object exhibited
upon their stages is fashioned and decorated like nothing else under
the sun. It is done “for effect.” They cannot take up any object
without proceeding to juggle with it—even the very objects they are
about to use for magical purposes. If the next experiment is to be
with billard balls, they begin by showing how easy it is to make
a billiard ball seem to be where it is not. If they are about to use
cards, they preface the experiment with feats of dexterity which
will impress upon their audience the idea that the false handling
of a pack is, if anything, easier than rolling off a log. These jugglings
are also introduced “for effect.”
But what is the true effect created by such unnecessary padding?
Simply to make an audience feel that, whatever happens, there can
be no cause for surprise or wonderment. Having seen how readily
the performer can handle his accessories for the production of extraor­
dinary results, spectators are bound to regard the subsequent pres­
entation as a natural consequence. Their further interest can be
only of an academic order because, after witnessing the performer’s
manipulative fireworks, everything else he may do seems to follow
as a matter of course.
In like manner, the use of obvious “apparatus” is bound to detract
from the success of a magical performance. When appliances are so
designed as to show that they are mere covers for mechanical trickery,
a spectator’s only possible source of interest is in wondering how
the machinery is constructed. Granting the existence of mechanism,
it only needs the skill of an inventor to produce the results obtained.
There can be no impression of magical occurrences when, in the
appliances a magician uses, there is clear evidence of sophistication.
In fact, a magical effect can be created only when there is no apparent
MISDIRECTION 121
existence of trickery, either manipulative or otherwise. It is bad
business for a magician either to display skill in jugglery or to
use accessories which arouse suspicion as to their internal structure.
Such things are utterly antagonistic to the principle of misdirection
by disguise.
The simplest embodiment, perhaps, of this principle is the familiar
“covering” of one action by another. When, for instance, a performer
has to make the “pass” with a pack of cards, it is absolutely essential
that the necessary movements of the fingers be covered by an ap­
parently natural and unsuspicious action. He cannot face his specta­
tors and deliberately make the pass, unscreened, before their eyes.
At least, he cannot do so and hope to create an impression of magical
results. He is therefore bound to do something that will disguise the
real nature of his actions, and prevent the trick from being disclosed.
It is absurd for a magical performer to imagine that, because he
has acquired a certain deftness of manipulation, a facility in juggling
with the accessories he uses, he must necessarily be an expert in
magic. Such is far from being the fact. In gaining that kind of skill,
he has travelled only half the journey he must take before reaching
his goal—by far the easier half, too. The technical perfection of his
sleights has but little value in itself. To be made valuable it requires
the aid of ingenious and effective disguise. Without the latter, it
can only serve to make the spectators think the performer is clever
with his hands, and to prevent that idea from being lost to sight.
It thus emphasizes the very point which a capable magician wishes,
above all, to keep in the background. When, however, by continued
study and practice the performer has added to his mechanical skill
the refinements of disguise, clean and artistic, then only is he in a
position to claim the title of magical expert. And then, also, he will
find that claim disputed by none capable of forming just conclusions
on such points.
In the same way, it is not enough that a magical performer shall
provide himself with trick-appliances which will bear more or less
examination without the precise nature of their tricks becoming
evident. It is not enough to have the sophistications hidden by blobs,
thicknesses or deformities of “decoration,” so that spectators cannot
see what is underneath. On the contrary, magical appliances should
be so constructed that their inner devices are not concealed by a
mere covering of some sort, but are disguised by blending with the
general structure. In fact, so far from suggesting the possibility of
122 OUR MAGIC
there being anything discoverable, a magician’s accessories should
rather look like objects of normal construction, which nobody would
associate with trickery.
This is particularly the case where an appliance is intended to
resemble some article in general use, or the shape of which is familiar.
For example, can there be anything more palpably absurd or more
utterly unconvincing than the “feather-flowers” one so often sees
produced by magical performers? They are like nothing else under
the heavens, and are as innocent of any suggestion of magic as a
child’s rattle. There is no misdirection associated with the use of
things like these. There can be none. They are obviously made of
feathers; they obviously close up into very small compass; and no
amount of ingenuity could ever make an audience even regard their
production as clever. As to throwing an audience off the scent in
reference to the modus operandi of such a production, that is clearly
impossible.
On the other hand, as an example of efficient disguise, let us take
de Kolta’s little dodge of concealing a small silk handkerchief within
a half-opened match-box. No device could be simpler than this; nor,
in its way, could anything be more perfect. A common match-box
stands half-opened upon the table. With his sleeves rolled up, and
his hands undoubtedly empty, the performer takes up the matches,
strikes one, lights a candle, blows out the match and closes the box,
replacing it on the table. It must be admitted that the act of con­
veying a handkerchief into one’s previously empty hand could
scarcely be disguised in a more unsuspicious manner. Unfortunately,
the trick of thus concealing a small object soon became known, and
consequently has now but little value. That, however, does not
detract from the merit of the original device.
In connection with disguise, which is in reality nothing more than
a special form of concealment, the question of display becomes of
importance, by contrast. While the magician must use all his art
to disguise and cover up what he does not require to be seen, he is
equally bound to make sure that every moment and every detail
that ought to be seen shall be seen. If, after having effectually secured
himself in the matter of disguise, he so bungles his procedure and
stage arrangements as to prevent people from seeing, half the time,
what is going on, his good work will be wasted.
Simulation is a form of pretense. In disguise, we have the principle
of making one thing look like another and entirely different thing.
In the misdirection of sense by means of simulation, we have the
MISDIRECTION 123
principle of giving apparent existence to things that do not exist,
or presence to things that are absent.
The billard ball feat, already cited in this chapter, serves to
illustrate the three basic principles of misdirection in magic. In the
gaze of the performer, and the pointing of the fingers of his right
hand, we have the principle of distraction. In the extended position
of his right hand, intended to convey the idea that the ball is not
held therein, we have the principle of disguise. Lastly, in the partially
closed fingers of the left hand, we have the principle of simulation.
There appears to be something where, in reality, there is nothing.
In mechanical devices also, simulation often plays a most important
part. Usually it is employed for the purpose of retaining the form
of something or somebody already removed. Examples of this method,
from “The Vanishing Lady” to the coin dropped into a tumbler
of water, will occur readily to all who know anything of magic. The
converse method—that of simulating the form of a person or object
not yet present—though not so much used as the former, is suf­
ficiently familiar to need no special illustration.
Upon this form of misdirection, little need be said. Its employ­
ment, both in manipulation and construction, must be governed
by the circumstances of each particular case. The one important
point in every instance alike, is to make sure that the working shall
be “clean.” On one hand, the simulation in itself must be efficient;
and, on the other hand, all evidence that the person or thing simu­
lated has either gone or not yet arrived must be entirely lacking.
It is of no use to cover a bird-cage with a handkerchief containing
a “fake” and expect the audience to believe that the cage is still
there, if one effects the removal clumsily, or allows the fabric to
blow under, as it could not were the cage not removed. If the simula­
tion is not good, spectators cannot be expected to believe that the
object simulated is where it is supposed to be. Nor can they be
expected to believe, no matter how perfect the simulation, that an
object still remains or has previously been in a certain place, if the
getting-away or getting-in of that object is more or less in evidence.
Cleanness, both in actual simulation and the procedure connected
with it, is the one great essential.
Misdirection, in either of its branches, is not confined to one
particular sense. Sight, of course, is the sense most frequently con­
cerned; but other senses also come in for their share of attention.
Hearing, for instance, is misdirected when, in “The Aerial Treasury,”
coins appear to fall into the hat from the performer’s right hand,
124 OUR MAGIC
when they really fall from his left. Touch is misdirected when a
spectator thinks he drops a coin into a tumbler of water, though
he drops in reality a disc of glass. Taste is misdirected when specta­
tors believe themselves to be drinking innumerable choice beverages
when, in reality, their drinks are merely compounds of a few special
ingredients contained in a “Magic Kettle.” In short, every sense is
open to misdirection, and thus may be made to serve the ends of a
skilful magician.
CHAPTER IV
STYLES OF MAGIC

I
n magic, as in every other calling, the modern tendency is toward
specialization. And, as may readily be imagined, each specialist
is apt to regard his own particular branch as the most important,
and to adopt a high-sounding title by virtue of his hypothetical
supremacy. In any profession this latter tendency is objectionable,
for obvious reasons. But in magic it has also the disadvantage of
being utterly ridiculous. The technics of magic, as we have shown,
are readily capable of classification according to the processes em­
ployed, but are quite incapable of reduction to any sort of system
according to respective styles of practice. Since almost every magical
experiment includes processes of various types and orders, it is im­
possible to classify performers according to their respective lines
of work.
Yet, for instance, there are performers who pride themselves
upon being exponents of pure sleight-of-hand, and nothing else.
There are others who boast of being stage illusionists, pure and
simple. And so on, ad nauseam. What, after all, do such claims
amount to? Nothing whatever! There is no such thing as a pure
sleight-of-hand performer. Or, if there is, may the gods have pity on
him. There is no such thing as a stage illusionist, pure and simple.
Stage illusions which can be presented without the aid of some con­
siderable amount of manipulative ability represent a class of inven­
tions yet to be produced. And so on and so forth, throughout the
whole range of magic. It is necessary that every performer shall
specialize, more or less, but there is no such thing as a true specialist
in any given style of magic.
By way of example, consider what can be done with pure sleight-
of-hand. It is true, there are some classical experiments, such as “The
Cups and Balls’’ and “The Aerial Treasury,” in which sleight-of-hand
alone is employed. But when one has exhausted the very limited
resources represented by such experiments, “pure sleight-of-hand”
ceases to exist. In order to show his audiences anything worth show­
ing, the performer has to use contraptions which at once place his
feats outside the limitations of pure sleight-of-hand. He becomes an
“apparatus conjurer,” a “stage illusionist”—or what you will. What-
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126 OUR MAGIC
ever he may think to the contrary, he is no more a pure sleight-of-
hand man than is the boy who has bought a half-guinea box of tricks.
Similarly, the performer who prides himself upon being an “il­
lusionist,” and professes to look down upon the man who "does
sleight-of-hand” is entirely at fault. His performances involve as
much sleight-of-hand as do those of the man he pretends to despise.
He is no more an “illusionist” than is his confrere, who scorns the
title. He is as much a sleight-of-hand man as the other, who regards
sleight-of-hand as the acme of magic. Such considerations, if only on
account of their extreme novelty, may appear somewhat difficult to
entertain. Nevertheless, in view of their undoubted truth, they have
to be faced, and dealt with in the light of common sense.
The final conclusion which facts compel one to adopt is that, on
the whole, the most important order of magic is the physical. It is
only by keeping abreast with the progress of physical science that
magic can retain its hold upon the public. In ancient times, magic
and progress were one. Today, the progress of physical science
constantly tends to outrival the marvels of magic. Such being the
case, it is hopeless for a magician to rely upon mere jugglery to
maintain his art in the position it should hold in public regard. The
day has gone by, and rightly so, when “hanky-panky” and “hocus-
pocus” were powerful fetishes. To obtain and retain worthy estima­
tion, the modern magician needs to be something of a scientist, and
a thorough artist into the bargain. He should bring to bear upon
his work every resource of modern progress that can be made
available.
Antagonism between various styles of magic is an idea that ought
to be inconceivable. In every essential point of art and theory, all
styles of magic are as one. When we come to the bedrock of the
matter, we find there are only two definite styles in existence; and
even these have no precise line of demarcation between them. They
are, respectively, Parlor Magic and Stage Illusion. The considera­
tion which mainly determines the category to which an experiment
belongs is a particular suitability for presentation before either large
or small audiences, as the case may be. But, as we all know, many
experiments are suitable for audiences of any magnitude; and will
prove effective upon a big stage, in no less degree than among a few
guests at a private house. So even this broad basis of classifying magic
according to style of work gives way, if too hard pressed.
A performer, of course, may specialize in experiments with cards,
coins, balls, mirrors, cabinets, glassware, threads, electricity, second-
STYLES OF MAGIC 127
sight, acoustics, peg-tops, tiddlywinks, or anything else that may
suit him. But in specializations of that kind, there is nothing so
vitally characteristic that any one of them can be said to represent
a special branch of magic. In theory and in art alike, such differentia­
tions are too slender to sustain any real class distinction. Still less
are they capable of conferring upon their exponents any special claim
to eminence in the art or practice of magic. Minor details concerning
the methods or accessories a performer employs, and to which his
procedure is confined, are too insignificant to create a definite style,
to be set apart from the general practice and constitution of magic
as a whole.
The question of discriminating between the two legitimate styles
of magic is one of great importance to every performer, without ex­
ception. Obviously, the choice of experiments must be governed
by the conditions in which they have to be performed. Experiments
that prove effective in a drawing-room are usually quite the reverse
when presented upon the stage. On the other hand, those which
create the greatest impression when exhibited upon the stage are
usually either unsuitable for a drawing-room, or impossible to present
in such cramped quarters. Size, of course, is the chief factor, though
by no means the only one, in deciding whether an experiment is
better suited to stage work or private performances. If the appliances
and accessories requisite for an experiment are very large, they cannot
readily be displayed in an ordinary room. If very small, they cannot
be seen properly upon a large stage. In either case, there can be no
good effect produced, owing to inappropriate conditions. Thus, the
drawing-room magician, as a rule, confines his work to such objects
as may be held in the hand, while the stage illusionist relies upon
effects in which large objects are employed.
This question of size, however, as we have said, is not the sole
consideration involved in the selection of experiments adapted to
the exigencies of a particular case. “The Aerial Treasury,” for in­
stance, is an excellent item for inclusion in a private performance.
Nevertheless, we must not therefore conclude that it will not be
effective on the stage. As a matter of fact, we all know that when
properly performed it is most effective as a stage illusion. Conversely,
there are many experiments, notably those with playing-cards, which
are capable of being made very effective upon the stage, and yet are
not on that account unsuited for private performance. On the con­
trary, experiments with playing-cards, in particular, can be shown
in private with enhanced effect as compared with that produced on
128 OUR MAGIC
the stage. This is not because, as a rule, the audience in private can
see the cards better than they can be seen by an audience in public.
The latter can generally see such distinct objects quite well enough.
No, it is because the average man believes there is some special virtue
in being close to a magical performer while he is at work. One hears
it said, again and again, “I stood within a yard of him all the time,
and yet—.” The rest can be filled in by the reader, from memory.
Of course, anyone who knows anything of magic is aware that,
more often than not, the spectator who stands at a performer’s
elbow, or faces him at the opposite side of a table, is far less likely
to detect trickery than is the man who views him from the seat of
a theater. It stands to reason that the man who has a performer in
view from head to foot, is far more dangerous than one who is too
close for making a comprehensive inspection. Matters of this kind,
however, are only of importance in so far as they serve to impress
upon magicians the fact that, when giving public performances, care
in the exercise of misdirection is of far greater importance than is the
case with performances given in private. Whatever belief to the
contrary may be held by a large majority of persons, a magician
ought never to forget that, on the stage, he is at a disadvantage in
comparison with his favorable situation in private performances,
as a rule; that is to say, of course, so long as he uses rational judgment
in the choice of experiments for drawing-room work. Naturally, if
he should be so ill-advised as to attempt feats which can be properly
accomplished only in stage conditions, he would necessarily be
handicapped in a dwelling-house of average size. Our comparison
has reference only to such experiments as are effective either in
public or in private.
Briefly, then, in deciding the style of effects suitable for a certain
occasion, every magician must be a law unto himself. There is no
other law to guide him, beyond the very indefinite and often de­
batable rule that, for private work, small effects are usually prefer­
able; and for stage work, large effects which involve the use of objects
which can be seen easily at a distance. So much also depends upon
the performer himself, upon his ability to turn certain situations
to his own advantage, and upon the limitations which particular
conditions impose upon his skill, that nobody but himself can
decide this question. There are two styles of magic—large work
and small. But there are also many experiments of an intermediate
character; so many, in fact, that we have a regular gradation from
the smallest effects to the largest. Therefore, in point of magnitude,
STYLES OF MAGIC 129
it is quite impossible to draw a precise boundary line between
parlor magic and stage illusion. The distinction is not exact, but
unquestionably is only approximate.
Apart from prejudice, one is bound to conclude that a performer’s
claim to exclusive specialization in any particular branch of magic
must, to say the least, be very difficult to sustain. The sleight-of-hand
man has to employ mechanical and other devices, which bring his
work within the scope of physical magic. The stage performer or
illusionist is equally dependent upon manual dexterity; for the
simple reason that a mechanical experiment usually requires “work­
ing” no less than one that is purely manipulative. One may have
all the requisite apparatus but, without the skill wanted for its
proper handling, that apparatus can only be so much useless lumber.
As for the specialist in mental magic, his work includes so many
devices belonging to the manipulative and physical branches that
his position in the art is, perhaps, the most difficult to define with
accuracy.
So much for the problematic classification of magicians according
to style of work. We may now pass on to the surer ground of dis­
tinction based on the characteristic features of magical processes.
In our next chapter we shall deal with the principles and methods
which constitute the various types of process comprised in magic.
The types themselves, being merely convenient groupings of more
or less similar principles, need no special comment. Their respective
characteristics are sufficiently illustrated by the general nature of
their components.
CHAPTER V
MANIPULATIVE PRINCIPLES
eginning with manipulative magic, it will be seen by referring
to page 114 that this branch of the subject includes four
types, the first on the list being Prearrangement. This, again,
has three subdivisions with certain characteristics in common. They
all relate to matters which the performer has to set in order before
his experiment begins. We shall consider them in the order given.
The principle of Collusion is one in which little merit exists.
An effect depending upon this principle is simply a put-up job,
by means of which the audience is actually deceived, instead of
being dealt with legitimately. Nothing can be simpler than to
employ an agent, who pretends to be an ordinary spectator and
plays into the performer’s hands in some preconcerted manner.
This can hardly be regarded as a genuinely magical principle, though
there may arise occasions when its use may be justified. As a rule,
it is to be avoided as a form of procedure unworthy of a magician
whose repute is of any value to him.
Disposition, the principle next on the list, represents the pre­
arrangement of accessories in a certain place or order, as required
for the experiments about to be performed. Examples of this prin­
ciple are provided by the stocking of cards, the loading of pockets
or other receptacles, and the manifold details incidental to putting
things where they will be wanted during a performance.
Preparation relates to processes employed in tampering before­
hand, in some unobtrusive manner, with accessories to be used
later on. All devices by means of which articles are “doctored up’’
for some special purpose that has to be served later on, come under
this heading. Marked cards give a familiar illustration of the prin­
ciple. A more familiar, though less direct, illustration is found
in the constant insistence by magicians upon the fact that their
accessories are w i t h o u t preparation. We may remark, in passing,
that this custom is more honored in the breach than in the ob­
servance. A direct repudiation, such as this, only serves to arouse
suspicion about things in general, even though the article in question
is proved entirely innocent. Better far, in most cases, is the indirect
proof of honesty which allays suspicion instead of tending to create
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MANIPULATIVE PRINCIPLES 131
it. In certain instances, when an experiment depends for its success
upon a strict examination of accessories, the disclaimer is bound
to be made, in some form or other. But even then it is well to avoid
direct reference to preparation or any other form of trickery. To
assure the audience that a receptacle has no trap or false bottom,
is about the surest way to make people think there may be some­
thing of the kind; whereas, had nothing been said about the matter,
they might never have given it a thought. If the thing to be examined
can be given into the hands of a spectator and, upon some pretext,
he is caused to handle and inspect it in a manner that indirectly
suggests the absence of trickery, that is bound to be more satisfactory
than the common plan of bluntly inviting the man to satisfy himself
that there is no trick in the thing. When, for instance, it is necessary
to show that a pack of cards is free from preparation, rather than
to ask a spectator to see that such is the case the performer would
be wiser were he to request that some stranger oblige him by count­
ing and shuffling the cards. Left at that, every useful purpose is
served and no harm done.
Under the general heading of Concealment, the first principle
on the list is Covering. It includes all processes in which one action
or object serves to screen another from view. Thus, any device
for passing one object behind another, or performing an action
that is required not to be seen, under the cover of a different move­
ment altogether, is included in this type. Thus, dropping the hands
while making the pass, or holding two cards together so as to appear
but one only, may be cited in illustration of this principle.
Disposal, the principle next in order, refers to processes by means
of which objects are finally put out of sight during the course of
an experiment. Dropping an article into the profonde, or other
convenient receptacle, is a process of this type. Other examples
will readily occur to the reader’s memory.
Retaining, the last of this particular group, is the principle of
withholding from transit any object which should normally pass
from one position to another. Palming a coin in the right hand,
while appearing to place it in the left, is a process belonging to this
category.
In the general type of processes grouped under the heading of
Interposition, the first principle set down is that of Loading. Inter­
position, of course, is the direct antithesis of Concealment. It has
to do with bringing into play something not employed previously;
whereas Concealment indicates the putting away of things already
132 OUR MAGIC
at hand. The principle of Loading is eminently characteristic of its
group. It is the most direct and most obvious method of bringing
new material into a magical experiment. To cite examples in this
instance would be superfluous. Even those who have but a nodding
acquaintance with the principles of magic must well understand
the nature of this particular item in our catalog. To prevent
misunderstanding, however, we may point out that the process
of loading consists in transferring a load from its hiding-place to
the receptacle from which the contents of the load are to be produced.
It does not consist in placing a load in a place where it can be got
at when the time comes for loading it into the receptacle intended
for it. A process of the latter type comes under the heading of Dis­
position. It is well to make this point clear, as there appears to be
a certain amount of confusion about it. A performer may sometimes
find it convenient to say that a chair, for instance, has been loaded,
when he means that a load has been set behind a chair, ready for
loading. In actual fact, his statement is quite correct; but, in a
magical sense, it is not so. Still, so long as the point is clearly under­
stood, and the disposition of a load is not taken to be the same thing
as the act of loading, there is no importance in mere choice of words.
The only thing that matters is that the meaning of magical terms
shall not be subject to confusion, on account of the mixed medley
in which their casual use is liable to involve them.
We now come to the principle of Duplication. This includes all
processes in which two objects are used where there is supposed to
be only one. The familiar experiment in which a coin is apparently
made to pass from one hand to another, usually through the per­
former’s knees, is a good example of the uses to which this principle
is applied.
The principle of Substitution is nearly allied to the foregoing.
The actual difference between them is that, while Duplication
interposes an additional object to be used in conjunction with one
exactly resembling it, Substitution brings in a new object to replace
one that has been destroyed or otherwise put out of use. The experi­
ment in which a card is torn up and apparently restored, with the
exception of one piece held by a member of the audience, is based
upon this principle.
The last on the list of types comprised in manipulative magic is
False Handling. Though not so precisely defined as the other types
in this order, it is still sufficiently definite to warrant its standing
MANIPULATIVE PRINCIPLES 133
as a special subdivision. As a matter of fact, several of the principles
which belong to other groups may be said to represent modes of false
handling. The three principles—Forcing, Securing, and Transposi­
tion—are, however, so distinctly different in their mode of application
that they obviously form a separate group. For the characteristic
feature common to them all and denoting the type they represent,
we can find no better title than False Handling.
Forcing is the principle of controlling the selection of a particular
object from among a number, while appearing to allow an entirely
free choice to be made. It is, in fact, a covert form of “Hobson’s
choice’’—take which you like, but you will only get the one I intend
you to have! Its most familiar application is the forcing of a certain
card from a pack, spread out fanwise. Another method is that em­
ployed in what is called “The Four Ace Trick,” wherein a spectator
is allowed to make a selection, and the performer interprets the
meaning of the choice to be either that the chosen cards shall be
used or set aside, according to whether or not they are those he
wants to use.
Securing is the principle involved in all manipulative processes
for insuring the availability of a certain article in the event of its
being required for use. It is closely allied to the principle of Re­
taining, already discussed. The latter, however, is based upon the
concealment of an object; whereas the securing of an object does
not necessarily imply that it is concealed. Further, a retained object
is merely held back when being apparently passed on, while a secured
object is one that is covertly held fast. Thus, when, in the act of
passing a pack to be shuffled, certain stocked cards are palmed off,
those cards are said to be retained. In a false shuffle, on the other
hand, when certain stocked cards are prevented from being mixed
with the others, the cards thus held in place are said to be secured.
Again, in the trick known as “dealing seconds,” the top card is
secured, and by a process of substitution the second card is dealt
instead. The principle, of course, is not confined to tricks in the
handling of cards. It is the basis of every manipulation in which the
position of an object, or the arrangement of objects in a particular
order, is prevented from changing.
The last principle in this group is that of Transposition. It
implies the secret reversal of positions respectively occupied by two
or more objects. The well-known card trick called the “pass” il­
lustrates this principle; being a device for transposing the relative
134 OUR MAGIC
positions of the two half-packs. Any other manipulative process
by means of which two objects are secretly made to change places
will necessarily represent an embodiment of this principle.
This brings us to the end of those principles and methods which
are applicable to sleight-of-hand. They represent all that can be done
in magic, by means of a performer’s hands, apart from other physical
aid. The limited number of such principles undoubtedly serves to
indicate the fact that, in pure sleight-of-hand, a magician has but
slender resources upon which to draw for his effects. Even so, the
principles enumerated are not all purely manipulative in their
application. A comparison of this list with that of principles available
in physical magic will emphasize the limitations of unaided dexterity,
in a manner that cannot fail to strike even a casual observer.
CHAPTER VI
PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL MAGIC
urning to the order of mental magic, under the general head­
ing of Thought Transference, the first principle on the list
is that of Code Work. So-called “second sight” is an example
of the manner in which this principle is applied to a code of words.
There are, however, in addition to verbal devices, many other tricks
in which the code principle is employed. Audible and visible
signals of many kinds have been arranged to form a variety of codes,
for the general purpose of conveying information secretly. Signals
by touch are equally available, when circumstances permit.
The most familiar code, of course, is the Morse, in which signals
consisting of long and short sounds, movements or other impulses,
are combined in various ways to form signs representing letters and
numerals. By such means, messages can be spelled out more or less
slowly. The usual method is to employ, in conjunction with the
signal code, a tabular code similar to those used in cable telegraphy,
in which the entries represented by brief signs, contain a compara­
tively large amount of information. This device is too well known
to need special description. The most efficient application of the
principle known as code-work is found in the performance of those
who combine various devices, or at any rate do not confine themselves
to one particular device or form of code. Such performances are
necessarily more effective and more inscrutable than can possibly
be the case with but one single device. The so-called “silent” thought
transference is very often silent only in the name, the performers
talking almost as much as in the case in the ordinary “second sight
business. But, where the feats are actually performed in silence,
visible signals are generally used. In fact, some exponents of the
truly silent device, when presenting their experiments, might almost
be mistaken for playmates in the game of “Here we go round the
mulberry bush,” so pronounced are the signals they adopt. In other
instances, the silence is only apparent, not real. The signals are con­
veyed by audible means, but not such as are evident to the audience.
Secret Speech is the principle of conveying messages from one
person to another by means of some concealed device, such as a
speaking tube. When this principle is employed, it usually neces-
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136 OUR MAGIC
sitates the intervention of a third person, by whom the actual speak­
ing is done, from some position more or less remote. In this case,
obviously, additional means are requisite for conveying to the inter­
mediary the information to be transmitted.
Secret Conveyance of Documents is a principle which, like the
preceding, can only be used with the assistance of some physical
device. It consists in the actual passing on of written or printed
matter, the recipient having facilities for reading it in private. “Billet
reading,’’ as usually performed by two persons, illustrates the applica­
tion of this principle to a device for learning the contents of sealed
envelopes.
Duplicate Reading is the principle of using two similar books,
newspapers, or what not, one being in the hands of the audience
and the other made available secretly to a performer. A certain page
or paragraph having been selected, particulars are signalled to the
performer, who turns to the place notified and proceeds to read
out the chosen words, apparently from the publication held by the
spectator seated at a distance.
Under the general heading of Memorization, there are only two
principles which have any claim to special characteristics. These are
Artificial Memory and Counting Down. The former, of course, con­
sists in the adaptation to magical purposes, of the methods of
mnemonics or other systems devised for assisting or training one’s
memory. The principle is useful, not only in combination with
devices of other kinds, but even as the basis for experiments in which
memory alone is involved. The memorization, for instance, of a
number of articles in prescribed order, the list being read over once
only to the performer, has proved to be a most interesting item in
magical entertainments. There are some persons whose memories
are sufficiently retentive to enable them to perform this feat without
the aid of artificial memory. They are, however, few in number.
Counting Down is the principle of committing to memory the
order in which certain objects in a series are arranged. The purpose
is to enable the performer to know what will follow in succession,
should circumstances render that knowledge useful to him. This
principle is largely adopted by gambling sharps in connection with
card games. When it is the sharp’s turn to deal, he memorizes the
names and order of as many cards as he is able, while in the act of
collecting the pack together. Making a false shuffle, he leaves the
memorized cards undisturbed in the middle of the pack. When the
pack is cut, the known sequence is brought, in all probability, near
PRINCIPLES OF MENTAL MAGIC 137
to the top. Thus, when the cards are dealt, a glance at his own hand
will show him a great deal about those of his partner and opponents
alike. The method may readily be adapted to magical purposes,
and should be more generally recognized as a valuable aid in the
invention of new experiments with cards.
The principles relating to the type of magic called Divination,
are three in number, viz.—Clairvoyance, Discovery, and Prediction.
They are, however, subtypes, rather than actual principles—forms
of divination rather than fundamental methods embodied in the
devices used for divination. Nevertheless, it is difficult to prescribe
any form of classification more suitable in the present instance. As
they stand, the terms speak for themselves. In practice, the devices
assignable to each particular group are, primarily, related to prin­
ciples of other types, and therefore need no special comment in this
place.
CHAPTER VII
MECHANICAL PRINCIPLES
e now come to magic of the physical order, and processes
of the mechanical type. The principle first on the list is
that of Outer Casing. This consists in the covering of an
object with a superficial casing, removable at will. The casing may
form a double or extra thickness, in exact replica of the real object,
or may have a shape entirely different from the object it encloses.
The first of these forms is illustrated by the “half-shell” used in
billiard ball manipulation, and by the metal cover fitting closely
over and painted to resemble a large wooden die. The second form
of casing is represented by the “Passe-Passe” experiment, in which
a bottle covers the glass with which it apparently changes place.
Numerous examples of both forms will readily occur to the reader.
The next mechanical principle is that of Concealed Access. This
may not be, perhaps, the best title available for the principle to
which it relates, but we can think of none better. It implies a secret
device by means of which any person or thing is enabled to pass
through something that appears impenetrable, or to get at some­
thing that seems isolated beyond all human possibility of approach.
Traps, sliding panels, removable parts et hoc genus omne, are
devices in which this principle is involved.
Secret Cavity or Receptacle is the principle upon which all devices
for the concealment of an object within an apparently solid structure
may be said to depend. False bottoms, secret drawers, bellows tables,
hollow stems, double lids, and so on, are examples of tricks upon
this principle.
Diverse Formation is a principle of very common use in magic.
It relates to appliances which, though apparently similar in every
respect, are either wholly or in part unlike in structure. It is a
principle common to many kinds of “prepared” apparatus. Thus,
bevelled coins, for example, are of diverse formation. In external
appearance they resemble genuine coins, with the ordinary square
edges. The bevelling is so slight that it can be detected only by careful
examination. It is, however, sufficient to insure that, when spun, the
coin shall fall with its larger diameter upward. Cards with dissimilar
halves, with convex or concave sides, with ends of different widths,
and so forth, are devices upon this principle.
A good example of Diverse Formation is to be found in “The
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MECHANICAL PRINCIPLES 139
Chinese Rings.” Here we have a number of rings, apparently
identical in structure and condition. But, in reality, the case is far
otherwise. Some few of the rings, it is true, are what they appear to
be—genuinely solid and single. Of the others, one has a gap in it,
and the rest are linked up in pairs and threes. It depends upon the
adroitness of the performer to convey to his audience the impression
that each and every ring is given out singly for examination, appar­
ently proving the whole number to be identical in every respect. Any
contrivance in which an unobtrusive alteration in shape is the essen­
tial feature will come under this heading.
Closely allied to the foregoing is the principle of Double Facing.
It is sufficiently familiar, in connection with playing cards, to render
comment superfluous.
Concealed Mechanism or Motive Power, also, is a principle that is
well known, even to those who know little else of magic. There are
innumerable devices and places for the concealment of mechanical
trickeries. So vast, indeed, is the range covered by this section that,
without unduly occupying space, it is impossible to give even a list
of the chief forms of apparatus in which the principle is commonly
embodied. Broadly, we may say that most appliances in which a trick
is concealed are included in this group. Thus, the trick by means of
which the performer is enabled to escape from a locked and corded
box is an example of such mechanism; since concealed access alone
cannot meet the case. A mere trap or sliding panel is out of the
question—assuming, of course, the relative dimensions of box and
performer entail a close fit, and that the rope is sufficient and properly
applied. There must, necessarily, be some form of concealed mechan­
ism comprised in the trick, whereby the performer releases himself
and restores the box to its former state. In this, as in other instances
where the trick by which a magical result is produced consists in
mechanism, the existence or nature of which is unknown to the audi­
ence, that trick comes under the present heading. Incidentally, we
may remind the reader that a “box trick” is the trick embodied in a
box—not the feat of escaping from a box.
Concealed Connection is another mechanical principle, of the
utmost familiarity to magicians and public alike. It is one of the
three principles usually quoted, by that section of the public whose
only delight at a magical performance is to explain (?) how every­
thing is “done.” The explanation given by such people, when fully
engaged in showing their cleverness at a magician’s expense, as a rule
consists in either “wires,” “machinery,” or “mirrors.” It may be that
140 OUR MAGIC
the effect could not possibly be produced by either wires, machinery,
or mirrors, but that is of no consequence. The fact that, if the effect
were actually produced by such means, it would be an absolute
miracle, does not matter in the least. “Make it wires!” says the
busybody, and “wires” it is, unless it may happen to be machinery
or mirrors. This sort of chatter, if loud enough, will always enhance
the enjoyment of surrounding spectators. In some cases of the kind,
we have seen printed on the faces of those around a chatterer, enjoy­
ment so unspeakably sincere that it would be unspeakable—in public,
at any rate. But, if they only had that nuisance alone—my word!
However, these common occurrences serve to show that the principle
of concealed connection is one of the most familiar in the whole
range of magic. From the slender thread that lifts the “rising cards”
to the heavy “pull” that snatches away the cloth thrown over a
vanishing lady, the purposes to which this principle is applied in the
service of magic are infinite in number and variety.
Last on the list of mechanical principles, we have Invisible
Suspension. This, of course, is closely allied to concealed connection.
The precise difference between the two is this: In the case of con­
nection, invisibility is by no means essential and some form of
apparent action at a distance is implied. On the other hand, invisi­
bility is the first essential in the present case, and no action other than
that of sustaining a certain weight in mid-air is implied. Partial
suspensions, such as that associated with “The Fakir of Oolu,” more
correctly belong to the group of concealed mechanism; since the
upright rod provides obvious possibilities for the intervention of
mechanical support. A truly invisible suspension is one in which the
weight supported is apparently isolated from all possible contact with
material objects by which mechanical connection may be concealed.
For this reason, the method of suspension in which the support is
derived from a rod passing through the stage, behind the performer
who “assists,” is a concealed mechanical device, rather than an in­
visible suspension.
The application of this present principle is not entirely confined
to the professed purpose of mysteriously causing a person or object to
float in space. It is also of great utility in giving to heavy objects the
appearance of lightness. This method was first introduced in con­
nection with the illusion called “Cleopatra’s Needle,” in which a
light framework, containing one or even two performers, could be
handled with ease—the weight contained within being invisibly
counterbalanced. De Kolta afterward adopted the method in his well-
known illusion “Le Cocon.”
CHAPTER VIII
OPTICAL PRINCIPLES
mong principles of the optical type, the first is Mirror Mask­
ing. It is well known in connection with devices such as
“The Sphinx,” where mirrors radiating from the center of
a curved or polygonal recess, and having their edges hidden by the
legs of a table, are used to conceal a person behind them.
The Reflected Image principle is the converse of the preceding.
Instead of masking an object, the mirrors serve to make an object
appear where, in reality, none exists. The illusion introduced by
Professor Pepper at the London Polytechnic, and known to magicians
as “The Walker Illusion,” illustrates this principle excellently.
With Professor Pepper and the Polytechnic is also associated the
introduction of Transparent Reflectors. The mention of “Pepper’s
Ghost” is a sufficient description of the method and its mode of appli­
cation to magical purposes.
Lantern Projection has been employed in magic, almost from the
date of its invention by Kircher. It is, however, seldom employed by
modern magicians. Except in an unusually clear atmosphere, the
beam of light from the lantern is so distinctly visible, and the need
for complete or semi-darkness so objectionable, that the possibilities
of this principle are limited within very narrow bounds.
Background Work is the principle of masking by means of a screen,
having the same color as a plain background against which it is seen.
It has long been used in small effects, such as the appearance of
objects within frames with black centers; the objects produced being
temporarily concealed by pieces of black material, snatched away at
the proper moment. Its adaptation to stage illusions proper was
made by de Kolta, at the Egyptian Hall, London, in 1886. The title
of “Black Magic,” adopted by him for the act in which this invention
was employed, has since become a technical term, denoting the use
of the background principle with black material. In this sense, how­
ever, the term is liable to create false impressions. Firstly, it suggests
that the use of black against black, in any way whatever, is a device
which de Kolta claimed to have invented. Secondly, it suggests that
de Kolta’s invention was limited to black alone. Such ideas are by no
means in accordance with the facts. Reference to de Kolta’s patent
will show that his invention relates to the obliteration of visible
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142 OUR MAGIC
contour by the destruction of shadow, and that any color whatever
may be used in connection with it. In practice, the distinction be­
tween de Kolta’s invention and previous applications of this principle
may be said to consist in the production of effects upon a large scale,
as compared with the concealment of small objects.
Chiaroscuro is a principle depending upon variations of shade and
tint for the creation of deceptive appearances. The painting of a flat
surface to resemble a concavity or convexity will represent an appli­
cation of this principle. Similarly, the disguising of a hollow or
projection to resemble a plain surface will equally fall within this
category of devices. An example is the sunken cavity, used as a
receptacle for small articles, in what appears to be a flat table-top,
decorated with a painted or inlaid pattern.
CHAPTER IX
ACOUSTIC PRINCIPLES

I
n the field of acoustics, the principles available for magical pur­
poses are but few. But those are extremely valuable, principally
in combination with methods of other types. There are, it is
true, one or two well-known inventions in which this branch of
physics has been made the basis for illusionary devices; but, as a rule,
it is applied to magic only as an adjunct, and by way of subsidiary
effect.
The first principle of this type is that of Mock Sound. It comprises
all devices for the simulation of characteristic noises, such as normally
occur in certain circumstances but would be lacking when things are
not precisely what they seem. In magic it often happens that, since
the things done and the things used are not exactly what they appear
to be, sounds that would naturally accompany certain operations do
not necessarily occur at the appropriate moments. Thus, if what
appears to be a heavy weight is in reality nothing more than an in­
flated envelope, no sound will accompany the action of putting it
down upon a carpeted stage. Therefore, in order to complete the
illusion, it is desirable that, at the proper instant, the sound of a
weight coming in contact with the floor be imitated.
In this case, of course, the best imitation is the real thing, a weight
being dropped off-stage, as near as may be to the imitation article.
The chief point would be to make sure that sound and action coin­
cide. Otherwise, the “artistic verisimilitude’’ must become not a
trifle worse than useless. In some cases, the sound accompanying
a secret operation resembles that incidental to the operation appar­
ently performed, thus avoiding all need for other simulation. An
instance of this is the chinking of coins when conveyed into the palm
of one’s hand, while they appear to be thrown from one hand to the
other. The devices for imitating characteristic sounds are many and
of various kinds. Some are mechanical, like the “ticker’’ which gives
the sound of a watch. Others are manual, like the simple devices used
for imitating the rattling of covered objects which are not under the
cover. Such methods, in common with the generality of this type, are
well understood and require no particular reference in this place.
Conveyance of Sound is a principle which, at first sight, would
seem to be capable of wide development in connection with magic.
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144 OUR MAGIC
The fact is, however, that the practical difficulties to be overcome in
rendering the mode of conveyance secret or (at the least) not easy of
detection, are very great. The conveyance of messages by speaking-
tube, a method formerly used in certain forms of so-called “second-
sight,” can scarcely be regarded as an adaptation of the present
principle. This particular group of acoustic devices, properly speak­
ing, includes only those intended for the conveyance of sounds
audible to the audience. The illusion known as “The Invisible
Orchestra” is an example of tricks upon this principle. In that inven­
tion, the sound was conveyed by wooden rods from instruments below
the stage to their counterparts above. Another trick belonging to
this group is that which was used in connection with “The Speaking
Head” illusion. In that instance, the sound was carried by tube to a
wide-mouthed orifice, and received in another attached to the head
itself and thence to the mouth, from which the sounds were supposed
to emanate. The device, however, was not very satisfactory in its
operation. As may be anticipated, sounds so conveyed would obvi­
ously have their origin elsewhere than in the head itself. These two
examples will suffice to indicate the nature of the drawbacks inherent
to this principle, from a magical standpoint.
The Disguise of Sound is a principle seldom employed in magic,
except in so far as it relates to drowning one sound by another. The
converse application is that of preventing the occurrence of sounds,
which would otherwise disclose operations intended to be kept secret.
The latter object, however, is usually attained by physical means,
rather than by the aid of acoustic principles. Thus the disguise of
sound would ordinarily consist in the prevention of sounds not
wanted and the substitution of sounds required.
C H A PT E R X

ELECTRICAL PRINCIPLES
n , we have a branch of physics that has rendered
electricity

substantial aid to the cause of magic. The vast reputation gained

by Robert-Houdin was in no small degree due to the facilities
which, in its early days, electricity placed at the disposal of magicians.
At the present time, no doubt, the continual spread of scientific
knowledge has robbed electrical processes of their former mystery to
a very great extent. We cannot now hang up a drum with electrical
tappers concealed inside it, and expect an audience to be mystified
by hearing that drum played invisibly. The day for that sort of thing
has gone by, never to return. Yet, in spite of its shorn grandeur, elec­
tricity still remains a most valuable servant to the magician who takes
the trouble to become its master.
Among magicians at large, there exists some prejudice against
electricity, on the ground of its supposed uncertainty. There is an
idea that electrical devices are essentially unreliable, and are subject
to frequent failure at critical moments. It may be said at once, so far
as electricity itself is concerned, that this charge of alleged unre­
liability is entirely without foundation. And with regard to electrical
appliances, when a failure occurs it is due to some mechanical fault,
ninety-nine times out of a hundred; and the fact of electricity being
used as the motive power has nothing to do with the matter. If only
the apparatus is properly constructed and installed, the electricity
upon which its operation depends may be relied upon absolutely.
There is no form of energy more certain in its action. But if the
construction and installation of the mechanical devices are not
efficiently carried out, there are bound to be failures and many of
them. Then, in all probability, the blame will fall unjustly upon the
electricity; instead of falling, as it ought, upon the tinker who made
the appliances and the landscape gardener who put them in place.
It may be admitted, without argument, that the conditions in
which electricity has to act when used for magical purposes, differ
immensely from those with which it is normally associated elsewhere.
The devices it has to control, when used in magic, are necessarily
“tricky” in both structure and operation. For this reason, a motive
power such as that of electricity, which depends for its efficiency upon
the making of proper connections, necessitates some care in adapta-
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146 OUR MAGIC
tion to the special circumstances of the case. This simply means that,
if worked by electricity, tricky devices of faulty construction are more
liable to play tricks than if they are operated mechanically. The
moral is that string and sealing wax, not to mention elastic bands and
tintacks, are not fit associates for electricity. Primitive materials of
that nature may consort well enough with a box of conjuring tricks,
as advertised; but an agent so refined as electricity demands other and
better means for its employment.
The first principle set down in this group is the Conveyance of
Power through Supports. Here, of course, entirely stationary and
solid supports are understood. In other types of physical magic, there
are devices by which power is conveyed through pillars, legs, cords,
chains, or what not, to the appliances thereby supported. But in
those other types, the devices must include some mechanical trickery
in their construction, and some movement of or within the support
itself. In the case of electricity, no such requirement exists. Electrical
energy demands for its conveyance nothing beyond a continuous
metallic circuit—a “line-wire” leading the current from a battery to
the device it operates and a “return-wire” completing the circuit by
leading back again to the battery. Thus two conductors are always
necessary for electrically operated mechanism. These may readily be
formed, either in or by the supports themselves. If the support is in
itself a conductor, it will require to be insulated from all other con­
ductors except the battery connection. If it is a non-conductor, a
metallic core or other conducting attachment must be provided.
Obviously, there must be two supports at least, if the current is actu­
ally conducted thereby. If there is only a single support, an insulated
path must be provided internally. The double path being available,
all that remains is to make sure of good contact between the ends of
the two conductors and their appropriate connections. All being in
order, one has only to press the button and electricity will do the rest.
The next electrical principle on the list is that of Trigger Action
by Electric Current. In this, we have a means which should be useful
for many purposes in the practice of magic. We say it should be so,
because it has not as yet been adopted as frequently as its merits
appear to deserve. The principle consists in the use of an electro­
magnet for releasing a motive power already stored up in a piece of
apparatus. Thus any form of clockwork may be started or stopped, by
moving its detent electrically. A supply of compressed air may be
turned on and off, a spring released, or a weight allowed to fall. In
short, there are a thousand and one operations in which trigger-
ELECTRICAL PRINCIPLES 147
action is used, that may be most conveniently controlled by an electro­
magnet. There is also a great advantage in the fact that the magnet
need have no contact with the device it moves. Its attraction will pass
through all substances save those which are themselves magnetic.
Therefore, so long as the distance across which the action has to take
effect is not too great, the magnet and its “keeper” may be insulated
from each other entirely.
The “Crystal Casket” of Robert-Houdin had another form of
trigger-action by electric current. At a given instant, a wire, electri­
cally heated, was caused to release coins concealed within the struc­
ture of the casket. Many devices of a similar character have been
employed from time to time. The modern tendency, however, appears
to be to rely upon threads, and primitive contrivances of that nature,
rather than to adopt the more refined electrical methods. In some
instances, no doubt, limitations of space would prevent the use of an
electro-magnetic release; but, more often than not, it is possible to
find room for some compact form of magnet. Therefore, it seems a
pity that this convenient agency should be allowed to fall into such
undeserved neglect.
The principle of communication by means of Electrotelegraphy
or Telephony is so well understood, and its utility and convenience
for special purposes of magic are so obvious, that nothing need be
said about it by way of explanation or illustration.
CHAPTER XI

CHEMICAL AND MOLECULAR PRINCIPLES

he application of Chemistry to the production of magical
effects is of ancient date. Among the earliest technical records
are to be found descriptions of experiments upon a chemical
basis. Not always strictly magical, it is true; but, very often, of a
nature well adapted to the requirements of magic, as we regard it
today. Of the former kind, the experiment sometimes described as
being designed “To terrify with a great Noise without Gunpowder”
is an example. “To seem to turn Water into Wine,” however, is one
of the very old experiments which are not yet out of date, and
probably will survive for many generations to come. Indeed, so far as
chemical magic is concerned, many of the older books strike one as
being very nearly as up-to-date as are some of the most modern. The
ancient textbooks, of course, contain descriptions of hypothetical
effects, presumably supposed to have a chemical basis, but which, in
the light of common sense, can be regarded only as survivals of super­
stition. Such an experiment, or series of experiments, is that “Of
Magical Lights, Lamps, Candles, etc.,” quoted in “The Conjuror’s
Repository a book published toward the end of the eighteenth
century. The weird and wonderful effects attributed to the burning
of certain oily compounds prescribed in the description given, seem
to a modern reader the conceptions of a disordered intellect. Still,
there is every reason to suppose that the authors who wrote that kind
of nonsense had implicit faith in the nostrums they mentioned. We
are bound to believe that, in describing some impossible and horrible
thing as “both easy and pleasant to do,” they had every confidence
in their own veracity. Not only so, they had equal confidence in the
reliability of those other persons, from whom their information had
been derived. Needless to say, the writers could never have tried the
experiments for themselves; or the failures they must inevitably have
experienced would, at least, have convinced them that the word
“easy” was out of place in their account of the matter.
The first chemical principle in the list is the Apparent Transfor­
mation of Substance. In most cases, the transformation is not only
apparent, but also real. An illustration of this fact is seen in the
experiment, already mentioned, of turning water into wine. The
transformation is brought about by effecting a real change of chemi-
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CHEMICAL AND MOLECULAR PRINCIPLES 149
cal combination. The effect, however, is only apparent, in the sense
that the supposed water and wine are not both what they appear to
be. The water, perhaps, may be genuine—perhaps not. But, in any
event, one may feel certain that what is apparently wine has nothing
of the grape in its composition. Still, even that characteristic is not
uncommon among commercial vintages, unrelated to the practice of
magic.
What we mean, then, by the “apparent” transformation of sub­
stance is the changing of what appears to be a particular material or
product (e.g., water) into what appears to be one of entirely different
nature or composition (e.g., wine). This principle is often employed
in combination with mechanical devices, whereby the chemical
changes are supplemented and rendered more impressive. By such
means, the effect produced is made far more striking than would be
the case were chemistry alone employed. It may be accepted as a
general rule that, with a mechanical amplification of some suitable
kind, skilfully contrived and efficiently manipulated, any form of
chemical change is likely to become far more valuable in magic than
it could possibly be made apart from such embellishment.
The principle of Ignition by chemical means is especially familiar
in connection with chlorate of potash and sugar, the igniting reagent
being sulphuric acid. Undoubtedly, the cleanest and safest method
for bringing the acid into contact with the other ingredients, as and
when required, is that of confining it within capillary tubes of glass,
sealed at either end. One of these tubes, together with a pinch of
chlorate mixture, being twisted up in a scrap of “flash-paper,” a slight
pressure serves to break the tube and, thus liberating the acid, to
ignite the whole.
The principle of chemical ignition, however, is by no means con­
fined to this special device in magic. There are many other reactions,
by which heat or flame may be produced, and which are equally
adaptable to the magician’s requirements. Notably, the spontaneous
combustion resulting from the application of water to potassium is
commonly used in connection with “fire-bowls,” as they are called.
These appliances are, generally speaking, made in the form of shallow
dishes, the edges of which are deeply recurved, and their centers
fitted with upright metallic points. A pellet of potassium being im­
paled upon the central pin, the bowl is turned edgewise up and a
sufficient quantity of water and sulphuric ether poured into the hol­
low rim. So long as the bowl remains edge up, nothing happens
beyond evaporation of ether. But as soon as the vessel is turned into a
150 OUR MAGIC
horizontal position, the water comes into contact with the potassium;
the hydrogen liberated by the chemical combination that ensues is
ignited by the resultant heat and in turn sets fire to the ether.
Whatever form of chemical ignition is adopted, the means for con­
veying the flame to the material finally burned must receive some
consideration. Usually the ignition is applied to some readily com­
bustible substance, such as the flash-paper or ether already mentioned.
In some special cases, handkerchiefs or other fabrics of cotton are
treated with the nitro-sulphuric acid used in making flash-paper—
thus being converted into a true gun-cotton. These, of course, are
readily fired by chemical reagents. But when some slow-burning sub­
stance has to be ignited, the semi-explosive combustion of such
mixtures as that of sugar and potassium chlorate is too short in
duration to act with certainty. Instead of setting fire to the substance
that requires burning, the sudden flash may only produce smoldering.
Therefore, it becomes necessary to supplement the chemical device
by some material, sufficiently rapid in combustion to be instantly
lighted, but not so rapid as to burn out before the intended substance
has caught fire. For this purpose, there is probably nothing better
than an ordinary match. Consequently, if the latter is used, mechan­
ical ignition may be found no less convenient and far less compli­
cated than any chemical method.
Change of Color by Chemical Reaction is, properly speaking, and
apart from change of substance, a principle seldom used in practical
magic. It relates exclusively to change of color without change of form
or substance; and must not be confused with such incidental color
changes as occur in experiments that relate to the apparent changing
of one substance to another. The general mode of application con­
sists in treating a fabric or other material with some chemical which,
when acted upon by another and thus modified either in chemical
composition or physical condition, changes its former hue completely.
The blue coloration of litmus in the presence of an alkali, and its
change to red when acted upon by an acid, may be quoted as an
example of such effects in general. Again, the bleaching action of
sulphurous acid, either in the form of vapor or in its nascent state, as
liberated by chemical reaction is a well-known means for destroying
color. It is commonly used in experiments with supposed ink and
water, the acid being liberated from sodium hyposulphite, as a rule.
In fact, many of the reagents used in producing apparent change of
substance or composition are equally applicable to change of color
alone.
CHEMICAL AND MOLECULAR PRINCIPLES 151
Invisible Writing is a principle almost as old as the hills. Ovid, for
instance, mentions several devices by which messages can be written
invisibly, even upon a vehicle so unsuspicious as the skin of a lady’s
serving-maid, and rendered legible by the person for whom they are
intended. The ancient textbooks of magic contain numerous recipes
for secret writing; a large proportion, however, being manipulative in
character rather than chemical, come under the heading of prepar­
ation. Still the principle of invisible writing by chemical agency was
perfectly familiar to the ancients, as the recipes for “Sympathetic
Inks’’ and so forth clearly prove. In a general sense, it may be said
that this present principle is but a special application of that relating
to color changes in general. Chemical reactions which are applicable
to change of color upon a larger scale, will often apply equally well
to the writing of messages with colorless liquids, which may be
colored by special treatment.
Molecular principles, in so far as they relate to magic, are so nearly
allied to those of chemistry that it is difficult to dissociate one from
the other. We have an illustration of this general difficulty in the
color changes produced in litmus by the action of acids and alkalies,
respectively. Although the litmus becomes blue in the presence of
an alkali and red when made acid, there is no reason to suppose that
any definite chemical change accompanies the change in color. Again,
when the mixture of two chemical solutions produces a solid com­
pound, the physical difference is undoubtedly due to a change in
chemical combination. The change of color in litmus, and the change
of state from liquid to solid in the chemical mixture, are both molecu­
lar in character. Yet the first cannot occur in the absence of chemical
reagents, while the second is absolutely dependent upon chemical
combination. Therefore, it is advisable to limit the molecular group
of magical processes to those in which chemistry has clearly no promi­
nent part.
CHAPTER XII
MAGICAL INVENTIONS

T
he importance of the subject dealt with in this chapter can
admit of no argument whatever. Both practically and theo­
retically, it is one of the most vital topics comprised in the
whole range of magical studies. From a technical standpoint, it rep­
resents the goal toward which the aims of every honorable magician
are directed, when seeking to add to his repertoire—and, incidentally,
to his reputation.
Like all else in the world, magic cannot stand still. It must either
advance with the times, or fall behind them. And, in this connection,
the one quality which above all others is essential to progress is
novelty. Without novelty in some form or other, nothing can be
achieved in the way of progress. Every step forward is necessarily a
new step. It breaks new ground, opens up new views, and involves a
definite change of position. In short, it represents novelty in every
sense of the word. In magic, as in all other forms of applied science,
the terms novelty and invention are synonymous. Without invention
there can be no novelty; and without novelty there can be no inven­
tion. In view of these facts, it is evident that any treatise upon magical
technics, in which the subject of invention is not dealt with, must be
incomplete and unsatisfactory.
In the present chapter, therefore, we shall discuss the nature of
magical inventions, and the means by which such inventions may be
evolved. Not, let it be understood, the means whereby all the inven­
tions in magic have been and are to be made. There are constantly
being produced, in every branch of human activity, inventions which
even their own inventors could not trace to a definite origin. It is
quite possible, however, to demonstrate certain means, available to
those who seek real advancement, by the aid of which the work of
invention may be greatly facilitated, and in some instances actually
brought to completion. It is in this connection that the value of
theoretical study is most prominently displayed.
There can be little doubt that, however interesting in itself the
theory of magic may be, it will receive but scant attention from those
who live by magic unless the study of this particular branch of the
subject can be shown to have a monetary value. It is not in human
nature to adopt any other attitude upon such a question. The man
[152]
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 153
who has his living to gain is bound to give his chief attention to the
making of profits. So, if there is no money to gain by the study of
theory, most men will give theory the coldest of cold shoulders. But,
as it happens, technical theory usually is worth money to those who
understand it. In the case of magic, no less than in other callings of a
professional character, the results to which theoretical knowledge
may lead can be valued in shekels of gold and shekels of silver.
That novelties connected with magic are extremely valuable, must
be patent to all. The avidity with which such novelties are sought on
every hand, to say nothing of the importance attached to them by
their inventors, would suffice to prove their value even if all other
evidence were lacking. Hence, if it can be shown that the theory of
magic constitutes a substantial aid to the production of novelties, its
importance to the welfare of magicians will need no further demon­
stration. That is what we propose to show.
We feel sure that much of the plagiarism, too common among
magicians, is due to the fact that writers upon magical topics have
usually given but little incentive to original effort. Instead of putting
forward stimulating suggestions, the rule has been to deal only with
bald statements and descriptions which, apart from higher knowledge,
can only foster a spirit of servile imitation. In the unwarrantable
glorification of “how it is done,” the far more worthy consideration
of “how to do what has not yet been done” seems to have been almost
entirely forgotten. The beaten track, and that only in disconnected
sections, is what the student of magic apparently is expected to regard
as his sole field of investigation. The need for seeking new paths, or
even for tracing the connection between familiar sections of the old
track, is an idea of which one seldom if ever receives a hint. To some
extent, at any rate, we hope to remedy this very prevalent fault. By
indicating sources of inspiration available to all, and pointing out
systematic methods of working, we may possibly aid original effort on
the part of some who have hitherto been content to snatch at crumbs,
so to speak, from the tables of other men.
In the first place, then, we must define what constitutes an inven­
tion, magical or otherwise. This is extremely necessary, because so
many people have but vague ideas upon the subject. Some do not
realize the difference between an invention and a discovery. Others
do not even realize the difference between an invention and an idea.
Yet it should be obvious to all that an invention must necessarily be
an example of applied science. Therefore, even the newest discovery
or the newest idea cannot be regarded as an invention. It is only when
154 OUR MAGIC
the discovery has been embodied in some particular device, or the
idea has been worked out in some practical form, that we have an
invention. And even then the invention relates to the particular
construction or method involved, and not necessarily to the discovery
or the idea upon which the invention has been based.
For example, let us take the case of the steam-engine. It is com­
monly said that this invention was made by James Watt. But, was it?
Certainly not! Hero of Alexandria constructed a steam-engine two
thousand years before Watt’s invention was made. Must we then,
ascribe to Hero the invention of the steam-engine? By no means. His
invention and the nineteenth century steam-engine are as unlike as
chalk and cheese. The simple fact is that nobody invented the steam-
engine, but various persons have invented various kinds of steam-
engines. Among those persons, James Watt takes a prominent place
as the inventor of that form of engine in which the pressure of steam
is utilized by means of cylinder and piston. Thus, the use of steam
pressure as a source of energy is a general principle, to which nobody
can lay claim. It is an obvious application of the discovery that steam
can produce pressure. The utilization of a reciprocating piston, as a
means for converting the molecular energy of steam into mechanical
or kinetic energy, is a specific principle, with the development of
which James Watt must for all time be associated. Hero’s invention
was based upon another specific principle, differing entirely from that
of Watt, viz.:—the reaction, upon a movable arm, of steam escaping
at right angles to it. It is the same form of reaction that causes a sky
rocket to ascend, and which, as derived from water pressure, was
utilized in the invention known as Barker’s Mill. The converse
principle, that of producing motion by the direct action of escaping
steam instead of by its reaction, has been adopted by Parsons in the
invention of his admirably efficient steam-turbine.
From the foregoing instances, most of which must be entirely
familiar to the majority of our readers, the true nature of an inven­
tion may readily be deduced. For example, it is entirely wrong to say
that the steam-engine was ever invented at all. “The steam-engine”
implies and comprises all steam-engines; or, at any rate, a common
basis which all inventors of such engines have utilized. There is only
one such basis—that of steam-pressure. The use of steam-pressure as a
means for supplying power, however, is an idea which must inevitably
occur to anyone knowing that steam can produce pressure. Left un­
developed, that idea would remain a mere idea, and nothing more.
In any event, it could not represent an invention. When that obvious
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 155
idea had been developed by the invention of a steam-engine, it be­
came a general principle to which all possible forms of steam-engines
are referable. In like manner, the specific principles evolved by
successive inventors must each represent a particular basis upon
which subsequent inventors might found new inventions. Thus, the
cylinder and piston principle of Watt was applied by Stephenson to
land locomotives, and by Fulton (though his claim to priority is
contested) to the propulsion of vessels. Yet we cannot say that
Stephenson invented the locomotive engine, or Fulton the steamship.
All we can say, with truth, is that Stephenson invented a locomotive
and Fulton a steamship. The application of the specific principle,
originated by Watt, to the propulsion of vehicles, either on land or
on water, is a mere idea which any booby might conceive. And any
booby, having conceived that idea, would believe that he had made
an invention. So far, then, we have arrived at the following defini­
tions:—
A General Principle is a basis for classification of inventions in
definite groups, according to fundamental characteristics common
to each group respectively.
A Specific Principle is a basis for invention, and may itself consti­
tute an invention.
An Invention consists in the production of some novelty, in either
principle, construction, method, or purpose, not merely put forward
as a vague idea but worked out in practicable form. The novelty it
comprises, but that novelty alone, can be protected by patent.
An Idea is a conception, which may or may not turn out to be
practicable or valuable, but which has not been developed by em­
bodiment in an invention. It cannot be protected by patent because
it discloses no inventive achievement, no practical application of a
specific principle; and, therefore, is not an invention. It is simply
a suggestion or notion, which some inventor might perhaps think
worthy of development. But until that inventor’s work has been
done, the idea itself must remain but a suggested possibility—at the
best a problem which, in the end, may prove to be not worth the
trouble of solving.
Having these definitions for our guidance, we may justly believe
that we stand on safe ground. Since an invention essentially comprises
some definite element of novelty, not merely in conception, but in
the practical application of a specific principle, it is quite easy to indi­
cate certain sources from which inventions may be derived. The
common impression that inventive genius necessarily consists in a
156 OUR MAGIC
faculty for conceiving new ideas, is quite erroneous. It depends
primarily upon a faculty for exercising the imagination upon possible
combinations hitherto unknown. The man who possesses the latter
faculty, by accident of birth, is a born inventor. But inventors are not
necessarily born. They can also be made. What has been withheld by
nature may to a great extent be supplied by training. The man
who wants to invent, but does not know how to invent, can learn to
invent if he will but take the trouble. There are few men who need
despair of becoming inventors. So long as a man has sufficient imagin­
ation to form some idea of what would be the immediate result, for
example, if it were known for certain that the world would come to
an end tomorrow, or if the whole of mankind suddenly turned
vegetarian, he has an inventor’s chief qualification. The man who has
no imagination cannot expect to gain the power of foreseeing possi­
bilities and anticipating results, without which no invention can be
made.
In the training of an inventor, then, the first essential is the culti­
vation of that most valuable of all mental gifts—imagination. There
is a very common notion that time spent in imagining things must be
time wasted. Yet the actual fact is that the most successful men are
those who are able to imagine things not yet in existence, and the
means for bringing those things about. Such men are not dreamers;
they are men of imagination. Between the two classes there is a vast
difference. The dreamer is one who dallies with mental images—with
hazy visions of what might be, if only somebody else would do
something or other. The man of imagination, on the other hand, is
one who exercises his brains upon problems relating to work which
he himself intends to carry through, when those problems have been
mentally solved. That is the kind of imagination an inventor wants.
The faculty next in importance to that of imagination is the power
of observation. It is undoubtedly true that inspirations seldom come
to those who do not look for them. Equally true is it that there is
little use in looking for inspiration unless one knows where and how
to look. Therefore, it is necessary that an inventor’s power of ob­
servation be well trained—not only in looking out for inspirations,
but also in recognizing the channels through which inspiration may
possibly come.
One of the most extraordinary facts concerning invention in gen­
eral is the evolution of conceptions in unbroken sequence. The
inventor begins working out a certain problem he has conceived;
and, as he proceeds, there grow out of his work suggestions which may
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 157
lead to many new inventions. Each of these, again, may lead to
further inspirations; and so on indefinitely. As a general rule, inven­
tions are not derived from accidental ideas, happy thoughts, or
heaven-born revelations. Their origin is in the fact that inventors
are always on the lookout for sources of inspiration, and always
endeavoring to imagine novel combinations and novel applications
of familiar devices. When in the course of his work an inventor finds
some detail lacking, which known devices or methods cannot supply,
he is led to seek out in imagination a new device or a new method—
it may be even a new principle—that will fulfil his requirements.
Having a definite aim in view, and the ability to imagine possible
means for achieving that aim, the chances are a hundred to one
that he will find what he wants. Thus, an inventor’s work consists, not
in a happy-go-lucky waiting for inspiration, but in laborious effort
devoted to the building up, mainly from fragments of existing
knowledge, of complete structures which possess the element of
novelty, in some form or other. It is for this reason that the art of
invention is capable of being taught; or rather, learned. Although
there is much to be learned, very little instruction can be given. That
little, however, is the small key which opens a very big door.
In the present instance, what we have to do is to point out to the
would-be inventor of magical novelties, where to seek for inspiration,
and how to make use of it when obtained; always provided, of course,
that the aspirant to inventive ability has learned to use his eyes and
to exercise his imagination. Of course, the man who has a native
talent for invention is bound to be more successful than one who has
not that advantage. That goes without saying. Nevertheless, a wide
field exists for the work of those who, without special gifts, are willing
to do their best toward inventing things for themselves.
In magic, as in all other directions, the chief source from which
inventors derive their inspirations is the work already done. But this
is where one wants to know where and how to search. It is absolutely
useless to read magical works, or inspect magical devices, and then
confine one’s attention to what has been read or seen. One must not
look at just what is directly in view; one must look all round it,
above it, and beyond it. One must not look at each invention singly,
just for the sake of admiring or copying it. One must seek for what
may be got out of it, put into it, or suggested by it. In almost every
case there will be found something that may prove useful, if not
immediately, then at some future time.
The most desirable discovery, of course, is a new specific principle.
158 OUR MAGIC
That is, therefore, the first thing for which one should be on the
lookout. Next to that comes the suggestion of a novel combination
of details, or a novel application for existing devices or principles.
After having conceived a basis upon which some novel invention
may be produced, the real work of an inventor begins. So, at the
outset, it is advisable to attempt something not too elaborate. In this
respect, at all times, an inventor must be guided by a knowledge of
the facilities he has for doing the necessary work of design and con­
struction, or of getting it done by others. And, further, it must be
remembered that such work, to the uninitiated, usually seems a lot
easier to do than they will find it if they try to do it themselves. Still,
if it is worth doing, a man of energy will always find means for put­
ting it through.
Since an ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory, according
to the proverb, we cannot do better than to show that an ounce of
theory can be made worth many pounds in practice. For this purpose
we propose to invent a magical novelty, for the reader’s benefit; and
to describe, step by step, the process of its evolution. Having done so,
we will, further, point out such possibilities of future development as
may be suggested by the invention as it stands. At the same time, we
give our word of honor that the invention shall have been solved
precisely in the manner described; and shall not be one already
existing, that has been dissected and analyzed for the purpose of
making up a story.
In order to begin at the most elementary condition possible, we
take for our starting point a general principle; preferably, one that
is not commonly employed. We shall select that of trigger-action by
an electro-magnet, and see what can be done with it. To this end, of
course, our first aim must be to ascertain, so far as possible, what
has already been done upon the principle we have adopted. Accord­
ing to our present knowledge, it would appear that there is but one
specific principle upon which magical apparatus embodying an
electro-magnetic trigger has ever been constructed. That is the princi­
ple of concealing, within the appliance containing mechanism con­
trolled by trigger, an electro-magnet to which the current is con­
veyed through suspending wires. Such being the case, we must get
away from that principle if possible. The most obvious way of so do­
ing is to put the magnet somewhere outside the apparatus contain­
ing the trigger mechanism, and do away with the suspending wires.
Here we arrive at two perfectly definite conclusions. Since the
magnet must be outside the appliance containing the trigger, we must
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 159
devise some means for effectually concealing or disguising the mag­
net; at the same time, bringing it sufficiently near the trigger it has
to operate. And since hanging supports must be discarded, the
trigger apparatus must stand on a table of some kind. Electricity
being our motive power, the best form of table to use will be one
through which electricity will not pass, and in which electrical

conductors cannot be concealed. At once, we recall to mind the glass-

topped tables commonly used by magicians. The very thing! The
central screw which fastens the glass top to its supporting pillar may
form one pole of an electro-magnet concealed within that pillar. And
if the hollow head of the pillar is made of iron, it will form the second
pole of the magnet it contains. We thus obtain a “concentric” electro­
magnet most efficiently disguised, and brought within effective range
of anything standing upon the table-top. Fig. 1 will serve to show the
actual construction of this device.
The next consideration will be the means of exciting the electro­
magnet from without. The most convenient connection, of course,
is through the feet of the table. The tripod and pillar, being of metal,
160 OUR MAGIC
will provide one of the conductors; the other may readily be made by
passing an insulated wire down the hollow stem, and thence (in a
groove on the under side of one of the legs) to an insulated metal
stud fixed into the foot. With this method, one end of the bobbin
wire would be connected to the metal tube, and the other end to the
wire passing down within it. Two metal discs on the floor, apparently
carpet pins, would form the terminal ends of the battery circuit.
Upon one of these would stand the insulated stud, and upon the other
would be placed either of the solid feet of the tripod. Fig. 2 shows the
method of fixing the insulated block, with a metal stud connected to
the inner wire which, in Fig. 1, is seen passing down from the bobbin.

Fig. 3 shows the complete arrangement, with battery and operating

key represented diagrammatically. In Fig. 1 is indicated approxi­
mately the position in which a catch or detent should be placed for
operating by the concealed electro-magnet.
Fig. 4 is a plan of the table-top. The central screw, marked a, is the
inner pole of the magnet, and the annular ring b is the outer pole.
Fig. 5 shows the best way of applying the arrangement to the release
of clockwork or other source of energy within a case of any kind.
Needless to say, the parts concerned in conveying magnetic force
between the two poles should be of iron, and should form the
shortest magnetic path. For this reason the metal disc which forms
the upper cheek of the bobbin should not be nickeled. Otherwise,
nickel being a magnetic metal, a coating upon the disc which fills
in the mouth of the magnet would tend to form an alternative path
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 161
of their magnetism, and thus minimize the attraction of anything
outside.
Having reached this point, we can imagine some magicians saying
that they do not see much in the device above described. It is all very
well, in its way, but what can one do with it? To this we answer that
one may do with it so many things that it is impossible to foresee
more than a minute fraction of the number. This is a question

which involves one of the most important points we have in view,

the insistence upon which is one of our chief objects in writing this
book.
The common tendency among magicians is to appreciate only those
devices in which some practical application has been cut and dried;
which have been definitely embodied in the production of some
particular effect. When every detail has been worked out, when the
stage business has been organized, the manipulation arranged and the
effect obtained, then only is a device worthy of consideration. The
possibilities associated with a device, the purposes to which it may be
applied, the money to be made out of it by the exercise of thought
162 OUR MAGIC
and initiative, are passed over as of no account. So long as the device
has not been actually used in connection with some successful pro­
duction, it has no value in the eyes of far too many among those who
practise magic, either professionally or as amateurs. This tendency
we most earnestly wish to combat; for it is the chief obstacle to be
removed before magic can take its proper place in the world’s prog­
ress. So long as an appreciable contingent of magical performers re­
main content merely to buy, beg, borrow, or steal from others—to do

nothing beyond that which others have done, to aim at nothing

higher than a slavish imitation of original work, to have no use for
anything that does not come to hand complete, lock, stock and barrel
—so long will magic remain condemned to unmerited disrepute.
The little invention we have described will show how small is the
need for reliance upon other people, in obtaining novelties. In the
whole description there is not included one single detail that is new,
in actual fact. Yet, taken as a whole, it constitutes a novel method,
capable of being patented. Not only so, it comprises a specific princi­
ple that is quite new and may be made the basis of many further in­
ventions. Nevertheless, it has been arrived at by no stroke of genius,
but merely by the putting of this and that together, in connection
with a general principle selected haphazardly. It is an example of the
facility with which inventions may be made, by systematic use of the
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 163
advantages gained by studying the theory of a subject, instead of
blindly trusting to luck for possible inspiration. If, instead of waiting
for something to turn up, one looks around upon what already exists,
to note the directions in which there appears some promise of useful
development, the aid of theoretical knowledge will always render the
creation of novelties a matter of no great difficulty. So vast an amount
of knowledge and so manifold an array of inventions are already
common property, that one need only ring the changes upon existing
combinations, to produce something novel in one sense or another.

There is also another point worth considering and one to which we

do not remember any reference being made in works dealing with
magic. It is this. The work of originating an invention is, by far, the
most pleasant and least laborious of all that has to be done in the
course of its evolution. The work inseparable from the perfecting of
minor details is the most tedious and the most trying. Thus the man
who invents something original has compensations of no mean order,
which are denied to one who merely takes up the threads, woven by
another man, at the point where all originality ceases. It follows that,
since the man who appropriates a magical invention has still to do all
the detail work connected with it, he would be far more agreeably and
profitably employed had he taken the little extra trouble required for
bringing out something of his own creation.
Returning to our present invention, it is obviously capable of being
adapted to two general purposes. One is the operation of a detent, or
trigger device, the other is the direct production of movement. In the
164 OUR MAGIC
latter case, of course, the range of movement must not be greater than
the magnetic attraction will bridge with certainty. These two pur­
poses, it will be seen, relate to a wide range of existing effects in
magic, and will yet relate to a far wider range in the magical inven­
tions of years to come. Although it is impossible here to deal with
this side of the question in any adequate manner, we shall just
glance at one or two applications of the principle, and point out one
or two ideas which those applications suggest.
Among well-known trigger devices, the “Crystal Casket” of Robert-
Houdin naturally occurs to mind. The reader will remember that
this casket was a small box, rectangular in shape, having glass sides,
bottom and lid, mounted in a framework of metal. In the center of
the lid was an ornament of embossed metal, sufficiently large to con­

ceal a few coins. The inner plate of this ornament formed a cover for
the coins, holding them in place and being secured with a piece of
thread. The latter was in contact with a fine wire, which became red
hot when a current of electricity was passed through it. Thus, at the
proper moment, the coins were released, and allowed to fall upon
the glass below. In an apparatus of this kind, if placed upon the
table above described instead of being hung upon wires, a simple
catch could replace the burnt thread. Probably more effective would
be a device loaded into (say) a borrowed hat standing upon the table.
Then the coins would be heard to fall upon the table itself.
In the case of an appliance with glass sides and metal edges, such
as Robert-Houdin’s casket, it might be possible to utilize the familiar
“split coins,” folding them up within the metal framework. The
glass would then be absolutely free from opaque excrescences, be­
hind or within which the coins could be hidden from view. A florin,
when cut into four strips, would require a cavity only five-sixteenths
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 165
of an inch in width. This might readily be provided within
the metal framing of a small glass box. A simple flap, magnetically
released, would be all the mechanism required for securing the coins
until the moment of their production.
In connection with the second class of applications (where the
magnet, instead of controlling a release, produces direct and visible
motion), an example is illustrated in Fig. 6. That figure shows an
adaptation of the present invention to de Kolta’s tapping hand. It
will be seen that the only addition to the hand itself consists in a
thin strip of iron concealed within the wrist. The lower end of the
strip is placed in proximity to the outer pole of the magnet, while
its other extremity stands above the central screw which forms the
inner magnetic pole. The attraction between the center screw and
the iron strip, which will occur whenever a current flows through
the bobbin wire, draws down the wrist and tilts up the fingers of
the hand. On interrupting the current, the magnet ceases to act,
and the fingers fall again upon the table-top. A small glass bead
or other hard substance, attached to the middle finger, will
give the required “tap,” readily heard in all parts of a large theater.
So long as the object to be moved can be made light enough, the possi­
ble amplitude of motion, obtainable by systems of leverage, may be
comparatively large. For example, it would be quite practicable,
given plenty of current, to produce an effect such as “The Rising
Cards,” by direct movement from the table magnet. Or, again, it
might be practicable to load on to an article standing upon the table
a card or other flat object lying unobserved upon the table-top.
Another idea suggested by this device is the use of a steel magnet
in place of the iron armature. In that case, two different movements
could be made to occur at will, in accordance with the direction of the
current passing through the magnet-bobbin. Thus, when the poles of
the table magnet are given the same sign as those of the permanent
magnet nearest to them, the latter will be repelled. Reversing the
current, of course, reverses the polarity of the electro-magnet, and
then the permanent magnet is attracted. In this way, two distinct
motions may be finally produced, two distinct trigger actions released,
or two distinct motive powers controlled.
This magnetic form of control has an advantage that no possible
device of a mechanical nature can possess. It enables one to produce
effects such as those we have just mentioned, in an absolutely clean
manner, even under a stranger’s very eyes. This in itself is no small
matter, seeing how much depends, very often, upon the impression
166 OUR MAGIC
a performer can make upon “the man from the audience.” When in
addition the method involves nothing likely to arouse suspicion, and
also reduces risk of detection to a minimum, there is good reason
for believing that it is a good thing, well worth turning to account.
Before concluding this section of our book, we would once again
impress upon magicians of repute, and also upon aspirants to that
rank, the need that exists for original work. No doubt it is very in­
teresting to reproduce effects that other men have originated, to
practise manipulations that other men have introduced—in short, to
do clever or effective things with which other men have achieved
success. But looking at the matter fairly and squarely, it becomes
evident that achievements of that subordinate character are of no very
great account. So far as personal merit is concerned, second-hand
magic at the best cannot do more than show a performer’s ability to
repeat a lesson he has learned. With regard to the art of magic and
its progress, such work can have but little value indeed. Those who
are constantly looking out for novelties to imitate should remember
these facts. In truth, one had far better take up old inventions, which
give no chance for imitating any living artist, than to stand con­
fessed a second-rate performer who can do nothing unless dry-nursed
by abler men. Not only so, it is most likely that nine spectators out
of ten will assume that the new but second-hand productions have
been appropriated illegitimately: in other words, have been stolen
from the original inventors. That kind of practice can do but little
good to the performer himself, and is bound to do great harm to his
calling. People can have but small respect for a profession in which
the chief aim of its members, as a rule, is to acquire other men’s
ideas, instead of being to emulate the success of other men, while
avoiding the blind imitation of things already done.
There is only one course of action by which the art of magic can be
advanced and the repute of the magical profession enhanced. That is,
for each one of us to put his shoulder to the wheel, and do all he can
toward pushing forward. It is beyond question that time and effort
given to the mere imitation of another man’s work can be nothing
more than time and effort misspent, in going over old ground; where­
as, by striving to break new ground, every step and every effort must
be of some service to the art and to its followers alike. Not only so, it
must be clear to everybody, either in the magical profession or out of
it, that there is far more money in original work than in the un­
necessary repetition of past history. Not that the average imitator con­
MAGICAL INVENTIONS 167
siders his work unnecessary. On the contrary, he feels that, by
scrambling after colorable imitations of all the latest novelties, he is
“keeping up to date.” That is a curious fallacy, since, beyond all
question, the man who works on those lines must always arrive a day
after the fair. He can never be up to date, because he perpetually
lags behind, waiting his chance to follow in the wake of somebody
else.
The simple fact is that to condemn oneself to an arduous struggle
for existence and a second-rate position at the best, when better for­
tune lies within reach, can only be described as sheer folly. To the
man who will arouse his mind to some sense of initiative and will
open his eyes to facts that stare him in the face, the doing of original
work in magic requires scarcely more effort than would be necessary
in imitating work already done. We do not question the fact that
some men, more than others, have the faculty for conceiving new
ideas. That is so in every calling that gives men a chance of using
their brains. In every kind of work, mental or physical, there are
bound to be degrees of skill, higher and lower, to which various
workers respectively attain. In no case can all be equally skilful.
Even the roadsweeper, who displays a positive genius for scavenging
the open roadway, may prove incompetent when confronted with the
task of clearing the gutters.
In magic, as in all other forms of human activity, it cannot be
expected that all workers will have an equal facility in carrying out
the work that lies before them. At the same time, it may be expected,
with justice, that every individual magician shall add his contribu­
tion to the sum of magical achievement, according to the talents with
which he has been endowed by nature. That is all we have a right to
expect; but it is the least he has a right to give, in exchange for the
value he receives from others. The man who is absolutely incapable
of original work in magic is unfitted for practising the art, and should
seek for a more appropriate calling. The man who could but will
not do such work, should be sent to Coventry by all magicians who
have self-respect, and, therefore respect their profession.
In magic, as in all else, the greatest aid to success is a complete
understanding of the subject, so far as available knowledge extends.
In any technical subject, such as magic, a complete understanding
cannot possibly be possessed by anyone who lacks theoretical knowl­
edge. Unless the theory—the inner constitution of a technical subject
—is known, no man, however well qualified otherwise, can realize the
present state of knowledge, or plan his future course with any confi­
168 OUR MAGIC
dence beyond that due to blissful ignorance. The theory of magic, as
such things go, is comparatively simple. It is, however, none the less
important on that account. Its very simplicity renders a lack of knowl­
edge the less excusable on the part of those who ought to possess it.
And seeing how useful that knowledge becomes, when one is seeking
for novel suggestions and inspirations, the magician who neglects
this branch of his subject must be accounted blind to his own
interests, to say no more than that.
PART III
THE PRACTICE OF MAGIC
CHAPTER I
WITH PLAYING CARDS. THE TRIANGLE
ith playing cards, the conjurer has countless experiments
but surprisingly few different effects, although these
have been exploited in innumerable ways. We shall take,
as an example, the effect which depends upon a certain card or a
number of cards being chosen or selected from a pack, and being
afterward discovered in another part of the pack or in some other
place altogether.
This effect has been repeated over and over again, in a great many
ingenious ways. Probably the most striking of these is that known as
“The Rising Cards,’’ in which the chosen cards rise in a mysterious
way, one at a time, from the pack, which is isolated by being placed
in a glass tumbler or some other receptacle.
Another very successful and therefore very much copied (and, for
that reason, hackneyed) feat of magic with cards is called “The Torn
Card.” A chosen card is torn to pieces by the selector who is asked
to retain one piece. The other scraps are usually loaded into a
conjurer’s pistol, which is aimed at some such object as a plate, or a
bottle, a candle, or the crown of a hat. After the pistol is fired, the
card (apparently restored, with the exception of the missing portion)
appears on the aforesaid object, as though it had been shot there and
had become whole again in its flight. By conjurer’s logic, this is
proved by the missing part fitting exactly into its place. As a final
effect, the major part of the card is usually placed in a prominent
position, and the small piece is apparently thrown toward it, or again
fired at it, and the audience is duly surprised to see it visibly join
itself to the rest of the card which, on examination, is found to be
whole and without flaw.
Causing a card, or several cards, to pass from one place to another
is a favorite effect. So, also, is the changing of a card for one of a
different denomination. A pretty example of this feat used to be ex­
hibited by Verbeck, who would take (say) a ten of clubs and, touching
a green tie with it, cause the pips to turn green. When the card was
passed over a yellow rose the spots would turn yellow, and thus,
chameleon like, the ten printed signs would change to the color of
any object touched. Finally, on Verbeck touching his forehead with
the card, it became his photograph. We quote this as a brilliant and
[171]
172 OUR MAGIC
original variant of the changing of a card, a feat which usually takes
the form of transforming an indifferent card into one that has been
previously selected.
Causing a number of cards to diminish in size, by manipulation of
the conjurer’s fingers, and convincing the onlookers, at various stages,
that the cards are becoming smaller and smaller, is a charming effect.
The converse of this, the enlargement of the cards, or the multiplica­
tion of them, has been described in print, but we do not remember
ever having seen it.
Feats of arrangement, such as dealing oneself all the trumps at a
game of whist, or causing particular cards to be found in a certain
given order, may be classed as another kind of effect.
Catching cards from the air (or, rather, appearing to do so) and
making them vanish, one at a time, from the fingertips, are also
effects much in vogue. They are apt to appear akin to the feats of
jugglery often exhibited by conjurers, such as throwing cards boom­
erang fashion, or spreading them deftly along the forearm, springing
them from hand to hand, and various eccentric shuffles, which can
hardly be called feats of magic. In our opinion, they are incomplete;
they may impress the onlooker with the fact that the card manipula­
tor is very clever, very dexterous; but the feats convey no mystery, and
all idea of watching a real magician is destroyed by such diversions.
A bogus scientific explanation is an excellent excuse for a feat of
magic, but it should always have a basis of probability—or, rather,
possibility. Otherwise, it is a mere insult to the intelligence of the
audience, and will be resented by the more educated. It should take
a natural physical law as its basis, and show what wonderful things
can be accomplished by that law, plus magic. The experiment should
be quite possible, granted that magic was true. An example of this
method of presenting an illusion with cards is the following, per­
formed by Dr. Herschell, a distinguished amateur. He called it
THE PERMANENCE OF RETINAL IMPRESSIONS
The performer brought forward a pack of cards, and selected from
it the ten of hearts and the ten of spades. The former he placed at
the bottom of the pack, which he inserted in a box attached to a little
easel standing on the table. The front of the box was cut away, so as
to disclose the ten of hearts. The top of the box was closed and
fastened, so that it was impossible for a card to leave its position in the
pack. He then explained to the audience that any impression upon
the retina of the eye lasted for an appreciable time, and illustrated
THE TRIANGLE 173
this by showing the common toy, the thaumatrope, in which a horse
and its rider upon different sides of a card are combined into one
image when it is rotated.
He then explained that if anyone looked at an object attached to
the center of a flat surface, colored black by a certain magical pig­
ment, the length of the persistence of the retinal image would be
greatly increased. He attached the ten of spades to the center of a
small black thin piece of wood about ten inches square, and held it.
in front of the box containing the pack of cards, so as to hide it from
the audience. The eyes of the audience having been kept fixed upon
the ten of spades for a few seconds, he moved the board away and the
image persisted in such a manner that this card was seen to occupy
the place in which previously was the ten of hearts. When the per­
former lowered the board and instantly removed it, the ten of hearts
reappeared. This change was repeated several times, and lastly both
the cards in the box and the ten of spades attached to the blackboard
were passed for examination. Granted the existence of the magical
pigment, there is no reason why the illusion should not have been a
genuine experiment.
Books on magic nearly always devote pages to manipulative de­
vices for use with playing cards, but only seldom does one read of a
really new plot. We maintain that a really good illusion with cards
is not simply a repetition of an effect which has been worked to death,
however new and ingenious may be the means by which it is accom­
plished. We shall not content ourselves with describing a series of de­
vices, and leaving the student to combine them into a presentable
feat of magic; in fact, we do not propose to set down here numberless
ways of gaining one effect, or any dodges or sleights whatever except
those which form part of the one illusion which we propose to place
before our readers as an example—and simply as an example—of feats
of magic with playing cards.
Our plan for the following chapters of this work is this. We have
discussed the Art of Magic, have attempted a definition of the Theory
of Magic, and now we wish to give a general idea of the Practice
of Magic. But, in the same way that the Japanese art collector does
not confuse the senses of his visitors by exhibiting several specimens
of one class of object but submits one, and one only, at a time, so it
is our intention in each of these chapters, to give one example of a
complete and practical illusion with the object or objects named at
the beginning of each chapter.
To give a rough idea of the number of sleights, devices, and tricks
174 OUR MAGIC
with playing cards, we refer our readers to a catalog of a great many
of them which they will find at the end of this chapter. This index is
the work of our friend, Professor Hoffmann, and was intended only
for his private use. In giving us permission to publish it, he wishes it
to be distinctly understood that it is not in any way complete, How­
ever, with the indexes to the card chapters of Modern Magic and
More Magic —books indispensable to any student—the list would be
nearly complete.1 As our catalog stands it will be most helpful, for
there will be found all, or nearly all, the sleights available for any
new effect that the reader may have in mind.
We have pointed out how few really new effects there are in the
whole range of conjuring with playing cards, and we should like to
give an illustration of what we mean by a really new effect with cards.
This one was described to us by Mr. G. W. Hunter, some years ago.
Whether it has ever been presented we do not know, but it struck us
forcibly as being quite a novel departure, exhibiting marked origi­
nality, in illusions with cards.
The performer shows a table standing away from anything else
on the stage. The table is one of the small round-topped variety with
a single leg which terminates in three feet. The central upright is
formed of glass tubing, and between it and the tripod below is a
small box or drawer large enough to hold a pack of cards.
A large handkerchief is thrown over the table, and serves as a table
cloth. A pack of cards is put into the box. Now, at the word of
command the cards are seen travelling up through the glass tube,
apparently journeying from the box to the top of the table. At the
same time, the handkerchief slowly rises and a mysterious form is seen
to be shaping through its folds. This goes on until the invisible struc­
ture is about two feet high, and then the movement stops. Very care­
fully the conjurer removes the silk handkerchief, and discloses a
Castle of Cards formed in the same way as those castles which most of
us as children used to build, stage by stage, with infinite patience. To
prove to the audience that the Castle of Cards has no solid founda­
tions, the conjurer gives the table a shake and the whole frail building
collapses.
We have not obtained permission to divulge the secret of this
1 To these citations may be added the following references, which will bring the
student of card magic more fully up to date: Hilliard’s Greater Magic (pp. 1-580);
Hugard and Braue’s Expert Card Technique; The Tarbell Course in Magic (rev.
ed.), Vol. I (pp. 193-295), Vol. II (pp. 157-267), Vol. Ill (pp. 181-267), Vol. IV (pp. 113-
189); Annemann’s Full Hand of Impromptu Card Tricks; and Gaultier’s Magic without
Apparatus (pp. 61-242). P.F.
THE TRIANGLE 175
Castle of Cards. We have simply described it as a sample of the sort
of thing that would be welcomed by audiences as something fresh,
and we predict that the man who presented a feat of magic as novel
and as good would be quite a lion among his brother wizards, so rare
is a new effect. Unfortunately, as is the case at the Zoo, when the
lion roars all the other animals make a noise; and when a conjurer
produces a novelty, too many other conjurers seem to have no other
object in life but to copy it, and thus surfeit the public with that
particular feat.
We most earnestly commend to these over-zealous disciples the
wisdom of producing some combination or new effect of their own.
To demonstrate how really easy it is to evolve a new combination
from most simple means and materials, we shall describe an illusion
with cards which has been proved successful by hundreds of presenta­
tions before thousands of spectators.
The illusion is called “The Triangle,” a title which conveys to the
mind many possibilities, but little information as to what is actually
to be displayed. At the same time, it is concise and trips easily off the
tongue; therefore, it has all the qualities of a good title, either for
the magician’s program or for his advertisements—a most important
consideration. Furthermore, the spectators are apt to remember the
feat afterward, and speak of it by name, a distinction not easily ob­
tained.
We fancy that our readers are getting somewhat impatient with us.
They wonder why we digress to write of this and that. We will tell
them. When we undertook to write this book, we determined to make
it as helpful to the student, and as illuminating to that portion of the
public willing to read it, as we possibly could. That is why! There are
scores of textbooks giving descriptions of tricks and devices, good,
bad, and indifferent. There is a mine of information before the
would-be wizard. We hope to show him how to exploit this mine to
the best advantage.
In Fig. 7 the appliances used for “The Triangle” are depicted.
They are simply a pack of cards set out on a blackboard, which is
fitted with four small shelves, a few yards of broad ribbon of any color
the performer fancies, and a chair on the seat of which is lying an
ordinary oblong Japanese tray.
We shall now describe, as carefully as possible, the working details
of what the performer does with these everyday articles. We hope
that after the student has read our description he will be in a position
to copy the illusion exactly, but unless the foregoing pages have been
176 OUR MAGIC
written in vain he will not (except, perhaps, as a matter of practice)
do anything of the kind; rather will he set to work to evolve a very
much more effective piece of magic, which will be his own.
For the explanation of the secrets of “The Triangle,” we shall
adopt the plan of inserting a number at each point at which the con­
jurer has something to do that is not known to the audience. These

numbers will be repeated at the end of the chapter, with full direc­
tions as to what he is to do.
The performer commences by inviting a member of the audience
to sit on the chair. When he is seated, the conjurer calls this gentle­
man’s attention to the fifty-two cards displayed on the board behind
him and points out both to him and to the rest of the audience that
there is no card missing; the pack is complete. Casually showing that
his hands are empty, the conjurer gathers together the cards on the
top row and then those on the row beneath. He drops them face
THE TRIANGLE 177
down on the Japanese tray, which he holds in his left hand, having
taken it from the chair to allow the visitor to sit down.
To facilitate the taking up of the cards neatly, the right-hand edge
of each card was placed just over the left-hand edge of the one before
it, so that by placing the fingers of his right hand under the card at
the right-hand end of the row, and then running his hand along
from right to left, the conjurer picked up all the cards with one
movement.
Half the pack is now on the tray. The performer asks his assistant to
take them off the tray, cut them, and turn the two packets thus formed
face to face. Handing him the ribbon, the conjurer asks his assistant
to twist the center part of it several times around the cards. The
conjurer then offers the two ends of the ribbon to two ladies in the
front row of the spectators. One end should be given to a lady on the
right and the other to a lady on the left, as in Fig. 8.
Proceeding to explain that the experiment is called “The Tri­
angle,” the prestidigitator asks his assistant if he minds being called
The Apex.
“Here,” says the conjurer, “we have what dramatic critics call the
eternal triangle, which I am told forms the basis of most of the plays
of the present day. It consists of two ladies and one gentleman, and
very surprising are the plots which can be evolved from such a com­
bination. The other half of the cards I shall spread out on this tray.”
Suiting the action to the word, the conjurer takes them from the
board, in the same way as the others, but spreads them all over the
tray, face up (1).
Advancing to the ladies who are holding the ribbons, the conjurer
requests them to look at the twenty-six cards on the tray and to think
of any one of them, without indicating to him in any way what cards
they decide upon.
Here it is well to point out that it is quite possible that both ladies
may fix upon the same card, and also to impress upon the audience
how impossible it is for anyone to know of which cards the ladies
are thinking. It is quite impossible, says the conjurer, for any man to
know what a lady is going to do until she has done it; and he begs the
ladies who are helping him to forego, for this occasion, that privilege
of the fair sex and not to change their minds!
When both the ladies have indicated to the performer that their
choice is made, he places the tray on the nearest convenient chair or
other object, and gathers together the cards in a packet which he
squares up. In doing this, he makes it very plain that he does not
178 OUR MAGIC
tamper with the cards in any way, or use any sort of manipulation;
he simply picks up the cards in a natural manner. Having done this
he asks the ladies, each in turn, to hold the pack for a moment in the
same way that the ribbon is held, and to wish the cards they thought
of to leave the rest of the packet (2).

At this stage, there is an opportunity for the performer to prove for

himself the wisdom of the maxim: “Although no good conjurer leaves
anything to chance, he should take advantage of all opportunities.”
Let us suppose that when the conjurer asked a lady to think of a
card, he also glanced at them and made his own guess as to which
one she would select. Say that the King of Clubs seemed to him—by
reason, perhaps, of the way it lay among the others—the one most
likely to be chosen. He might then address the lady in the following
way:
THE TRIANGLE 179
“Will you please wish the card you have only thought of to leave
the pack? Of course, it is impossible for me to know which card it is,
but supposing it is the King of Clubs, just wish it to go.”
If by a lucky chance the King of Clubs was the card, the lady will
almost surely admit the fact by some exclamation or movement of
surprise, and the artist will appear to be a veritable thought-reader.
We have often known this ruse to succeed, but whether it does or
not matters little. The conjurer continues in this strain: “Will you
say ‘King of Clubs go away, come again another day,’ or words to that
effect? Of course, I mean you to say them to yourself. I do not wish
to incite you to give a recitation.”
The second lady is asked to wish her card to go in the same way,
while she is holding the half-pack near the ribbon.
The wizard explains that, if the experiment has succeeded, the two
cards that the ladies only thought of will now have left the pack he
is holding. Handing another person the tray, the conjurer asks him to
act as “scrutineer,” and now for the first time he asks the ladies what
cards they thought of. We shall presume that the cards were the King
of Clubs and the Four of Hearts.
“Very well,” says the performer, “I shall deal all the cards I hold
before this gentleman, and if he or those seated near him see either
of those cards among the named, will they please say so? "
From the moment that he asked for the names of the cards, the
conjurer has been particular to hold the cards in such a way that all
present are convinced that he is not tampering with them in any way.
He now deals them very slowly and deliberately, one by one, face up
on the tray, and those watching bear witness that neither the King
of Clubs nor the Four of Hearts is among them (3).
“You hear, ladies and gentlemen,” the conjurer continues, “the
clever cards have gone; the inference is that they are not here. As a
matter of fact, when the ladies wished them to depart, they traveled
invisibly along these ribbons and will now be found in the hands of
The Apex.”
Having by this time picked up the cards in his left hand and the
tray in his right, our necromancer now approaches the gentleman
who has been so patiently holding the other half of the pack and,
placing the tray upon his knees (4), requests him to unwind the rib­
bon from the cards and deal them on the tray for the purpose of find­
ing the King of Clubs and the Four of Hearts.
Of course, the two cards in question are found and exhibited and
the gentleman is bowed off, although, before he leaves, if he evinces
180 OUR MAGIC
any desire to examine the whole pack, now lying on the tray, he is at
liberty to do so (5). Gathering up the ribbons, the conjurer may re­
mark that doubtless the experiment has been successful because the
ladies wished, for when ladies wish a thing to be done it usually is
done.
If all this has been carried out with the confidence and ease
essential to good conjuring, the audience will be puzzled, enter-
tained, and surprised, and they would be still more surprised to know
by what simple means their senses had been deceived. But then, so
would the invalid often be astonished to know what very simple
things really cured him when those things were administered prop­
erly and prescribed with the judgment of the expert.
The experienced conjurer knows that the secret of any good practi­
cal illusion is simple, and he admires it accordingly. It is only the
novice who scoffs at simplicity and hankers after complexities, be­
cause he does not realize the amount of work that has to be done to
attain what he is apt to treat with contempt as being too simple. Dear
amateur, the bicycle is a simple machine, as it is now. But glance
back at the history of its evolution, and consider! So it is with a good
illusion.
TRICK OR DEVICE
Double-faced cards. Half of the pack (namely, the twenty-six cards
forming the two lower rows on the board) are backed with duplicates
of the other twenty-six which form the upper rows.
PREPARATION
Take a whole pack of thin cards and neatly paste them back to
back. Place them on the two lower shelves. Take a second pack, and
select from it the twenty-six cards requisite to complete the display
on the board. It will be seen that they must be duplicates of the backs
of the prepared cards.
The other half of the ordinary pack is put in the pocket marked E
in the diagram of a conjurer’s dress-coat on p. 195.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) During the passage of his hand from the board to the tray, the
conjurer turns each row of cards over so that the backs are face up
when laid on the tray.
(2) When he squares them up, he turns them over again and pre­
sents one end of the pack only to each lady to hold. He grasps the
THE TRIANGLE 181
other end with his finger and thumb, and also keeps them down low
so that no one near catches a glimpse of the under side.
(3) Again he keeps the cards down so that only one side of each
is seen; and for the same reason the persons asked to assist should
all be seated in the front row.
(4) The performer has the gentleman on his right. When about to
place the tray on the gentleman’s knees with his right hand, he drops
his left hand to his side, drops the prepared cards into pocket G (Fig.
9, p. 195) as the gentleman is approached, and takes the half-pack out
of the pocket E when bending the body in the act of depositing the
tray.
(5) The unprepared half-pack is thrown on the tray when the
gentleman has found the chosen cards.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL INDEX OF CARD TRICKS

CARD SLEIGHTS
The Pass.
The Double-handed Pass. New Era Card Tricks, p. 7.
The Double-handed Pass, Herrmann’s. New Era Card Tricks, p. 10.
The Double-handed Pass, Morritt’s. Stanyon’s New Card Tricks, Vol.
2, p. 5.
The Double-handed Pass, C. O. Williams’. Modern Card Manipulation,
p. 28.
The Single-Handed Pass.
The Charlier Pass. New Era Card Tricks, p. 13.
The Charlier Pass, a la Bertram. The Modern Conjurer, p. 38.
The Erdnase Shift. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 99.
Force and Pass Combined. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 89.
To neutralize the cut without using the Pass. Card Sharping Exposed,
pp. 191, 193.
Card Sleights (and Tricks therewith).
The Mexican Turn-Over. The Expert at the Card Table, pp. 22,
122, 158.
A Marvelous Coincidence. New Era Card Tricks, p. 158.
Three Card Trick (De Manche). The Modern Conjurer, p. 107.
Three Card Trick. An Addition. Mahatma, Vol. 7, p. 68.
The Back or Reverse Palm (and Tricks therewith).
Cards placed in two hats change places. Magic, Vol. 3, p. 3.
182 O U R M A G IC

Trick with six cards. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 122.

New Multiplying Cards. Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 24.
Change by means of back hand palm. Mahatma, Vol. 4, pp. 20, 88. Vol.
5, p. 16.
A new move. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 20.
Concluding surprise. Mahatma, Vol. 5, pp. 54, 64.
Card Catching by means of back palm. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 81.
To vanish the pack. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 89.
Card Manipulation. Modern Card Manipulation, p. 55.
Manipulation of Ten Cards. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 10.
The Journeying Card. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 52.
How to Give a Conjuring Entertainment, p. 11.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 145.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 32.
The Modern Conjurer, pp. 46-50, 97-101.
Howard Thurston’s Card Tricks, pp. 21-39.
The Magician’s Handbook, p. 119.
Stanyon’s New Card Tricks, Vol. I, pp. 8-10.
Tricks of C. de Lion, pp. 5, 6.
Magic, Vol. 1, pp. 23, 56. Vol. 3, pp. 59, 91.
Mahatma, Vol. 4, pp. 58, 67, 75, 85, 94. Vol. 5, pp. 14, 83, 89. Vol. 6,
p. 15.
The Palm Proper.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 29.
Buatier Palm. New Era Card Tricks, p. 31. Medrington, p. 1.
Top Palm. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 144.
Bottom Palm (in left hand). The Expert at the Card Table, p. 137.
Maintaining Bottom Palm while dealing. The Expert at the Card
Table, p. 93.
Palming from Bottom of Pack. The Modern Conjurer, p. 45.
Palming. The Modern Conjurer, pp. 40-45.
Palm Hold-Out. London Magazine, May, 1903, p. 435.
Change Over Palm. Stanyon’s New Card Tricks, Vol. I.
Palming. Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 10.
De Lion’s Pass Palm. Stanyon’s Original Tricks of C. de Lion, p. 3.
Hal Merton’s Pass Palm. Mahatma, Vol. 5, pp. 13, 51.
Palming Cards with fingers open. Magic, Vol. 3, p. 75.
New Palm. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 82.
Replacing card or cards. The Expert at the Card Table p. 113.
New instantaneous front palm and tricks therewith. Mahatma, Vol.
}

8, p. 42.
To Change a Card.
New Era Card Tricks, pp. 17-22, 27, 148, 162.
TH E TRIANGLE 183

Howard Thurston’s Card Tricks, p. 19.

Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 95.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 7.
The Expert at the Card Table, pp. 147-159.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 57.
Goldston’s Secrets of Magic, p. 14.
Change made in replacing card in pack. New Era Card Tricks, p. 87.
Vice Versa. A good trick dependent on the change. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 185.
The Mysterious Hat. A good trick dependent on the change. New Era
Card Tricks, p. 190.

To Change the Pack.

Howard Thurston’s Card Tricks, pp. 43, 45-
Magic, Vol. 2, p. 75. Vol. 3, p. 19.
Card Sharping Exposed, pp. 205, 262.

The Color Change.

New Era Card Tricks, pp. 24-29.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 62.
Addition by means of faked card. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 34-
By Charlier pass made under cover of right hand. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 138.
To Force a Card.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 16.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 55.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 6.
Magic, Vol. 1, p. 11. (Hoffmann method.)
New method of forcing three cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 176.
Another method. Magic, Vol. 1, p. 83.
New method of forcing by turning over pack. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 176.
To Force the Thought of a Card.
New Era Card Tricks, pp. 34-37.
Magic, Vol. 3, p. 31.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 165.

False Shuffles (To keep whole pack in prearranged order).

New Era Card Tricks, pp. 44-46.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 53.
Stanyon’s New Card Tricks, Vol. I, pp. 4, 5.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 13.
Sharps and Flats, p. 131.
False Riffle. Sharps and Flats, p. 138.
To leave order of pack undisturbed. The Expert at the Card Table,
p. 159.
184 OUR MAGIC
“Arranging” Shuffles. (Stocking the cards.)
Sharps and Flats, pp. 133, 144.
Position for overhand shuffle. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 28.
To retain top stock. The Expert at the Card Table, pp. 30, 31.
To retain bottom stock. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 32.
Blind Riffle to retain top stock. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 34.
Blind Riffle to retain bottom stock. The Expert at the Card Table, pp.
36, 39.
False Shuffles ( T o keep certain cards in position).
New Era Card Tricks, p. 46.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, pp. 12, 13.
Sharps and Flats, p. 140.
For securing a selected card. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 141.
De Manche’s Shuffles. The Modern Conjurer, pp. 52, 53.
Sleight for keeping two cards in view. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 63.
To get Sight of a Card.
New Era Card Tricks, pp. 37-40.
Sharps and Flats, p. 121.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 168.
The Bridge.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 40.
Sharps and Flats, pp. 129, 142.
The “Slide” or “Drawback.”
New Era Card Tricks, p. 42.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 168.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 60.
False Cuts.
Sharps and Flats, pp. 116, 123, 127, 128, 148.
Blind Cuts. (Various.) The Expert at the Card Table, p. 46.
The Crimp. The Expert at the Card Table, pp. 48, 113.
Second Dealing.
Goldston’s Secrets of Magic, p. 45.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 58.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 59.
Sharps and Flats, p. 118.
Tricks dependent on second dealing. Goldston’s Secrets of Magic, p. 44.
Top and Bottom Dealing.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 52.
Sharps and Flats, p. 116.
Tricks dependent on bottom deal. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 9.
THE TRIANGLE 185
The Revolution.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 43.
Card Throwing.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 15.
To make card thrown return to hand. New Era Card Tricks, p. 194.
Card Balancing.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 198.
The Ruffle.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 14
Springing the Cards from Hand to Hand.
Stanyon’s Conjuring with Cards, p. 17.
Bridge of Cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 170.
Bridge of Cards. Mahatma, Vol. 7, p. 137.
Card Servantes
New Era Card Tricks, p. 149.
Fan, for production of cards. Mahatma, Vol. 7, p. 53.
Diminishing Cards.
Single diminishing card. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 225, 226.
Changing and diminishing card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 229.
Changing and enlarging card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 230.
Various Methods. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 270-278.
Bertram’s Method. The Modern Conjurer, p. 92.
The Vanishing Pack.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 269.
Five Card vanished from tips of fingers, Sphinx, Vol. 4, p. 6.
Special Pockets for Cards (and Tricks therewith).
New Era Card Tricks, pp. 63-67.
“Walking Pip,” and other changing cards.
Pack of Cards showing four changes. New Era Card Tricks, p. 251.
Various forms. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 220-225, 230, 233, 243, 244,
246, 260.
Card changing into flower. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 234, 236.
Card stencilled with vermilion. New Era Card Tricks, p. 254.
Card for Ink Trick. New Era Card Tricks, p. 256.
Card changing to envelope, and vice versa. New Era Card Tricks, p. 258.
Quadruple changing card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 233.
Cards with missing pips. New Era Card Tricks, p. 260.
Card for passing through hat. New Era Card Tricks, p. 238.
186 OUR MAGIC
Envelope changed into chosen card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 258.
The Re-united Card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 263.
Marked Cards (and Card Marking appliances).
London Magazine, May, 1903. In Article on Race Course Swindles.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 16.
Sharps and Flats, pp. 26-59.
Apparent Second Sight. New Era Card Tricks, p. 76.
Card Sharping Exposed, pp. 228-235.
Card Frames.
Magic, Vol. 2, p. 34.
The Sand Frame. New Era Card Tricks, p. 165.
Robinson’s Improved. New Era Card Tricks, p. 167.
Holdouts.
Sharps and Flats, pp. 73-111.
The Vest Hold-Out. Magic, Vol. 2, p. 42.
Sleeve Hold-Out. Sharps and Flats, pp. 77, 94.
The Bug. Sharps and Flats, p. 81. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 14.
The Cuff Hold-Out. Sharps and Flats, p. 82.
The Ring Hold-Out. Sharps and Flats, p. 87.
The Vest Hold-Out. Sharps and Flats, p. 88.
The “Kepplinger” Hold-Out. Sharps and Flats, p. 100.
The “Take” Hold-Out. Sharps and Flats, p. 107.
Card Targets (of various kinds).
Magic, Vol. 2, p. 69.
Card appearing on neck of unprepared bottle. New Era Card Tricks,
pp. 112, 114, 116.
Card fired against crown of hat. New Era Card Tricks, p. 80.
Card fired against handkerchief. New Era Card Tricks, p. 89.
Magic Orange Tree. New Era Card Tricks, p. 151.
Three Cards attach themselves to mirror. New Era Card Tricks, p. 171.
Card Changing, Vanishing, and Producing Appliances.
The Lantern of Diogenes. New Era Card Tricks, p. 73.
Improved Card Table. New Era Card Tricks, p. 83.
Card Boxes. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 138-143.
Folding Cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 247.
Envelope, for the production or changing of cards, etc.
Nest of Envelopes, each disclosing name of a chosen card. New Era
Card Tricks, p. 100.
Envelope for vanishing or changing card. Mahatma, Vol. 8, p. 41.
C. O. Williams’ Card and Envelope Trick. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 141.
Another Card and Envelope Trick. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 153.
THE TRIANGLE 187
Card Reading.
Reading cards behind back. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 67, 71.
Elliott’s Method, Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 2.
Apparent Second Sight. New Era Card Tricks, p. 76.
Card Read in Envelope. Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 40.
Reading top cards of shuffled pack. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 16.
Reading cards in sealed envelopes. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 144, 145.
Reading Cards in Spectator’s pocket. New Era Card Tricks, p. 191.
Card Mnemonics and Thought Reading.
Magic, Vol. 3, pp. 19, 31.
Sharps and Flats (counting down), p. 149.
Magic vs. Mnemonics. New Era Card Tricks, p. 61.
Mnemonics applied to cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 177.
Card Thought Reading. New Era Card Tricks, p. 85.
All but one card of a pack being named to discover missing one. New
Era Card Tricks, p. 155.
Spirit Envelope. New Era Card Tricks, p. 173.
Eight Chosen Cards Foretold. New Era Card Tricks, p. 135.
New Card Ladle, for reading cards. Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 133.
The Mysterious Remainder. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 188.
A Good Thought-reading Trick. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 123.
Another Good Method. Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 102.
Ne Plus Ultra. To pick out a number of selected cards. New Era Card
Tricks, pp. 48, 57.
To Discover at a glance the particular card removed. Magic, Vol. 5,
pp. 27, 44.
Card Thought of Produced in Envelope. Miracles of Modern Magic,
p. 19.
COMPLETE CARD EFFECTS
The Rising Cards (or floating cards).
Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 121.
Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 57.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 113.
Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 112.
Magic, Vol. 1, pp. 11, 35.
Magic, Vol. 2, pp. 27, 35, 43.
Magic, Vol. 3, p. 89.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 209.
Robinson’s. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 44.
Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 61.
Buatier’s New Method. Magic, Vol. 4, pp. 55, 80, 179.
The Queen of the Air. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 4.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 69.
188 OUR MAGIC
To Produce any card in the pack. (Conradi.) New Era Card Tricks,
pp. 108, 111.
Worked by horizontal thread. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 111, 205.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 119.
Cards jumping out of hat. New Era Card Tricks, p. 181.
Houlette a la Main. New Methods. New Era Card Tricks, p. 202.
Excelsior Rising Cards. With mechanical table. New Era Card Tricks,
pp. 108, 207.
Cards changing as they rise. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 211-217, 262.
The Hand of Cagliostro. New Era Card Tricks, p. 217.
Mechanical Rising Pack. Mahatma, Vol. 6, p. 125.
A la Thurston. Howard Thurston’s Card Tricks, p. 77.
Mahatma, Vol. 8, p. 104.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 205.
Magic, Vol. 5, p. 71.
Elliott’s Method. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 123.
Mahatma, Vol. 6, p. 97.
Cards rising in original wrapper. Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 14.
With bamboo stick. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 105.
Devant’s version. Magic Made Easy, p. 50.
Sundry variations in rising cards. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 88.
The Blowing Houlette. Magic, Vol. 5, p. 36.
Cards rising out of original wrapper. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 10.
Miscellaneous Card Tricks
The Card that will come to the top. Modern Card Manipulation, p. 40.
Drawn card made to vanish from pack. Magic, Vol. 3, p. 11.
Production and vanish of cards with empty hands. Modern Card
Manipulation, p. 52.
The Three Card Trick. New Method. The Modern Conjurer, p. 107.
To bring a given number of cards into the middle one of three heaps.
Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 74.
Elliott’s Card Plates and Goblets. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 9.
The Mysteries of the Zodiac. New Era Card Tricks, p. 116.
Ne Plus Ultra Trick. To pick out seven chosen cards. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 48.
Chosen card passing through handkerchief. New Era Card Tricks, p. 61.
The Lantern of Diogenes for producing card. New Era Card Tricks,
P- 73-
Drawn card made to appear under collar of drawer’s coat. New Era
Card Tricks, p. 78.
The Dancing Card. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 92, 146.
Chosen card pierced by pins fired at the pack. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 95.
TH E TRIANGLE 189
The missing ace found in performer’s pocket. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 133.
The Card, Ring and Ribbon. New Era Card Tricks, p. 153.
Handkerchief produced from card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 157.
Multiplication trick. New versions. New Era Card Tricks, p. 195.
The Fountain of Cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 200.
Shooting feat. To cut the pip out of the ace of hearts. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 249.
The Card and Broken Mirror. New Era Card Tricks, p. 265.
A trap for a troublesome spectator. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 112.
Cards marked by means of a wafer. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 91.
New Ways of discovering chosen card. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 20.
The Sympathetic Cards. Card selected from one pack shown to be
identical with one chosen from another. New Era Card Tricks,
pp. 167-169.
Predestination. New Era Card Tricks, p. 192.
Ink poured into glass, yet cards rise clean. Mahatma, Vol. 8, p. 18.
Upper half of pack laid on table, lifts and reveals drawn card. New Era
Card Tricks, p. 68.
Two cards freely chosen, to make either rise first. Magic, Vol. 5, p. 44.
Cards picked out Blindfold, and Clairvoyant Tricks.
Bertram’s Method. Isn’t it Wonderful? p. 259.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 174.
Mile. Patrice’s Method. The Modern Conjurer, p. 102.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 136.
Ne Plus Ultra. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 48, 57.
Torn Card Trick (or card destroyed and restored).
Magic, Vol. 1, p. 6.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 75.
Magic, Vol. 4, p. 105.
New Form. Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 4.
Goldston’s Secrets of Magic, pp. 34, 43.
The Halved Card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 130.
The Phoenix. New Era Card Tricks, p. 132.
Four Cards reproduced in four oranges. New Era Card Tricks, p. 151.
Card cut in four pieces and restored. New Era Card Tricks, p. 263.
Hal Merton’s. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 24.
Torn card on end of wand. Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 85.
Found in cigar. Mahatma, Vol. 2, p. 162.
Herrmann’s Pocket Trick.
Mahatma,Vol. 3, p. 82.
See also “Rapid Transit.” New Era Card Tricks, p. 151.
190 O U R M A G IC

Out of four drawn cards to place one in pocket which proves to be one
selected by spectator. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 100.
New “Card in Pocket” Trick. Medrington, p. 3.
Card Sword, and Similar Tricks.
Magic, Vol. 3, p. 11.
Magic, Vol. 2, p. 93.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 82.
Cards caught in hand. The Modern Conjurer, p. 69.
Sphinx, Vol. 3, pp. 76, 77.
Modern Card Manipulation, p. 41.
Card caught in tambourine. Mahatma, Vol. 7, p. 101.
Card caught on plate. New Era Card Tricks, p. 72.
Four Cards caught at finger tips. New Era Card Tricks, p. 103.
Cards caught on billiard cue. Medrington, p. 5.
Four Ace Trick (or equivalents).
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 172.
A la Bertram. The Modern Conjurer, p. 124.
De Vere version. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 2.
J. N. Hilliard’s version. Magic, Vol. 5, p. 63.
An effective addition. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 94.
Excelsior Four Ace Trick. Medrington, p. 7.
The Acrobatic Aces.
With Knaves. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 191.
Two or more Cards Changing Places.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 177.
Mahatma, Vol. 1, p. 124.
Aces and Kings in separate envelopes change places. Goldston’s Secrets
of Magic, p. 7.
Card passing from one sealed package to another. New Era Card Tricks,
pp. 91, 185.
Card on table changes place with one on pack. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 148.
Queens and Jacks change places under two plates. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 160.
Chosen cards leave pack and pass into hat. New Era Card Tricks, p. 190.
Houdin’s “Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.” New Era Card Tricks, p. 195.
Card change in glass on table. Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 14.
Four Cards change places with four in tied-up pack. Mahatma, Vol. 6,
P- 57-
Cards in two different envelopes change places. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 34.
New Era Card Tricks, pp. 91, 143.
Card threaded on ribbon changed to another, and itself found in
envelope. New Era Card Tricks, p. 106.
THE TRIANGLE 191
Chapelet Tricks, and Tricks Dependent on Arithmetical Principles.
p. 179.
The Expert at the Card Table,
p. 41.
New Era Card Tricks,
Card read behind back. p. 67.
New Era Card Tricks,
Ne Plus Ultra. p. 48.
New Era Card Tricks,
Cards read in a spectator’s pocket. New Era Card Tricks, p. 191.
Card a la Manche.
p. 185.
The Expert at the Card Table,
Bertram’s Method. p. 83.
The Modern Conjurer,
Finish by passing cards into trousers pocket, just shown empty. Magic,
Vol. 4, p. 20.
Six cards counted from hand as seven. Magic, Vol. 4, p. 20.
Suggested new finish. Mahatma, Vol. 8, p. 41.
Discovering Chosen Card, and Reproduction in Various Ways.
Telegraphing by manipulation of cigar. Secrets of Magic, p. 7.
Clairvoyance Mysterieuse. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 167-170.
Drawn Card extracted from wrapped-up pack. Mahatma, Vol. 6, p. 127.
To name cut cards of a new pack. The Modern Conjurer, p. 67.
Chosen Card caught on a plate. New Era Card Tricks, p. 72.
Chosen Card passed through plate. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 142.
Chosen Card found under coat collar of drawer. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 78.
Chosen Card made to adhere to hand mirror. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 171.
Chosen Card found at chosen number. New Era Card Tricks, p. 102.
Chosen Card passed into spectator’s pocket. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 151.
Chosen Card passed through hat. New Era Card Tricks, p. 238.
Chosen Card passed into sealed envelope. Mahatma, Vol. 2, pp. 70, 94.
Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 2.
Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 95.
Chosen Card passed into covered glass. Modern Card Manipulation,
p. 47.
Chosen Card produced at bottom of selected heap. Modern Card
Manipulation, p. 43.
Chosen Card produced from performer’s own pocket. Modern Card
Manipulation, p. 46.
Pack wrapped in paper, knife inserted through paper, divides two
chosen cards. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 64.
Cards dropped into hat drawn through crown. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 64.
Card thought of produced on back of performer. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 150.
Two cards, freely chosen, produced top and bottom of two out of three
heaps chosen by spectators. Magic, Vol. 5, p. 35.
192 OUR MAGIC

Chosen Card shaken out of handkerchief. Magician, Vol. 1, p. 52.

To balance cards on hand. Magic, Vol. 1, p. 43.
The “Piano” Card Trick. Magic, Vol. 2, p. 82.
New Disappearing Card. Magic, Vol. 3, p. 10.
The Travelling Ace. Magic, Vol. 3, p. 30.
One Chosen Card Finding Another. Magic, Vol. 3, p. 31.
Cards changed to photos of selected statesmen. Secrets of Magic, p. 51.
A thought-reading trick. The Expert at the Card Table, p. 194.
Card drawn through handkerchief, The Expert at the Card Table,
p. 198.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 57.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 73.
Selected pairs produced at top and bottom. The Expert at the Card
Table, p. 200.
The Hypnotized Card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 68.
A Dancing Card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 92.
Card balanced on hat. New Era Card Tricks, p. 146.
Names of half a dozen drawn cards found in envelope. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 100.
Four drawn cards caught, two in each hand, from pack thrown in air.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 103.
Card changed though threaded on ribbon. New Era Card Tricks, p. 106.
Ace of diamonds made to vanish from pack. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 134.
A striking divination trick. New Era Card Tricks, p. 135.
Cards noted made to vanish from pack. New Era Card Tricks, p. 143.
Reading cards in sealed envelopes. New Era Card Tricks, pp. 144, 145.
Cards made to pass from one person’s pocket to another. Mile. Patrice.
The Modern Conjurer, p. 133.
Card, Ring, and Ribbon. New Era Card Tricks, p. 153.
Three cards thought of written down by performer and, after removal,
made to return to pack. New Era Card Tricks, p. 155.
Everybody’s Card. New version. New Era Card Tricks, p. 162.
Name of chosen cards found in suspended envelope. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 173.
Audacity card trick. Seven of clubs and eight of spades accepted as
reverse cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 182.
A Chain of Cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 186.
Predestination Trick. New Era Card Tricks, p. 192.
The Fountain of cards. New Era Card Tricks, p. 200.
Card passed through hat. Modern Card Manipulation, p. 58.
Shooting feat. To hit the ace of hearts. New Era Card Tricks, p. 249.
Shooting feat. To hit the ace of hearts. Robinson’s. Mahatma, Vol. 2,
p. 61.
THE TRIANGLE 193
The Card and Broken Mirror. New Era Card Tricks, p. 265.
Pack of Cards changed to flowers. Mahatma, Vol. 4, p. 11.
The Card Ladder. Mahatma, Vol. 5, p. 99.
Cards made to turn over in pack. Magic, Vol. 4, pp. 31, 47-
Card vanishes in glass of water. Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 115.
Missing card found on performer’s back. Medrington, p. 2.
Sphinx, Vol. 3, p. 151.
Card production from pocket of spectator. Magic, Vol. 5, p. 47.
Tricks Dependent on Audacity.
Chosen cards instantly reproduced from freely shuffled pack. Magic,
Vol. 4, p. 103.
New Era Card Tricks, pp. 182, 183.

Combined Coin and Card Tricks.

Coins falling through cards into glass. Various methods. New Era Card
Tricks, pp. 125-129.
Single coin produced on face of card. New Era Card Tricks, p. 257.
Vanished coin made to appear on edge of selected card. New Era Card
Tricks, p. 267.

To Produce Drawn Card at a Given Number in Pack.

Elliott’s method. Mahatma, Vol. 3, p. 107.
To produce drawn card at desired number. New Era Card Tricks,
p. 102.
Card thought of found at chosen number. The Expert at the Card
Table, p. 196.
New Era Card Tricks, p. 85.

To Bring Separated Cards Together in Pack.

Magic, Vol. 3, p. 10.
The Expert at the Card Table, p. 197.
Sympathetic Queens. Secrets of Magic, p. 37.
CHAPTER II
WITH BILLIARD BALLS. MULTIPLICATION
n reading over our last chapter, we find that we have not im­
pressed upon our readers the fact that broad effect is the quality
most prominent in the experiment which was under discussion.
To avoid over-elaboration, to know when to leave off, is a valuable
asset to any artist, especially to an artist in magic.
In “The Triangle,” one could just as easily have had a dozen cards
thought of and ultimately found in the other half-pack, as two. But
nothing would have been gained by doing that; in fact, a clue would
then have been offered to the audience as to the secret of the feat. On
the other hand, to obtain the broad effect, the fact of thinking of two
cards in the pack is made the most of. The artist, having chosen the
right tones of color, lays them on thick and with a sure hand. No
finicking movements are called for. Everything that is done is definite
and apparently above board. No sleights with the cards to show off
the dexterity of the performer are interpolated; in every way the
picture as seen by the audience is clearly outlined and easily remem­
bered.
In billiard balls we have a moderate sized object, dear to the heart
of the manipulator. As with the cards, so with billiard balls. The
manipulator finds the temptation strong upon him to linger lovingly
over sleights, passes, and palms galore, while losing sight of the ulti­
mate effect on the mind of his audience. We do not remember having
ever seen an illusion with billiard balls in which the effect was not
blurred by this sort of thing, instead of being made to stand out in
relief like a clearly cut cameo. On being asked afterward what the
conjurer did with a billiard ball, the spectator probably replied, “Oh,
all sorts of things.”
Now, one does not wish to hear a criticism like that, if one has
been displaying a feat of magic; rather would one hear a greatly
exaggerated description. At present, manipulation pure and simple
will not carry a conjurer very far if he is using billiard balls and eggs.
Let us suppose that a modern conjurer was in the power of some
cannibal savages, and that his very life depended upon proving to
them that he was a real magic man. Even the cleverest sleight-of-hand
performer would stand a very poor chance of living if all he had with
him was (say) half a dozen ivory billiard balls and the same number of
[194]
MULTIPLICATION 195
eggs. He would not know one cumulative feat of magic with them,
simply because no genius has as yet invented one.
But give the same conjurer twenty silver coins and a top hat, and he
would know what to do. The natives would be astounded to see him
catching money from the air, picking coins from all sorts of places,
and throwing them into the hat. Even if the savages were so happy
as not to know what money was, they would wonder at this medicine
man who created those shining discs at his fingertips. If, instead of

the money and the hat, the conjurer had three cups and a few cork
balls of different sizes, and three oranges or apples, he might still
convince his audience that he was a genuine magician, because his
play with these articles would have a plot—a beginning, a middle, and
an end. It would be a satisfactory effect.
As a matter of fact, apart from playing cards, there are very few
complete feats of magic which are not dependent on some form of
mechanical aid. We believe that “The Cups and Balls” and the
“Catching Money Trick” are the oldest and best illusions that have
ever been accomplished by pure sleight-of-hand, or manual dexterity,
alone. But, back to our billiard balls and eggs. Given a little help in
the shape of mechanical devices, the modern magician can make a
very good showing with these objects.
196 OUR MAGIC
Disraeli said of description that “it was always a bore both to the
describer and the describee.” We shall do our best to curtail our
description of “Multiplication,” but we feel bound to give our
readers every possible detail that may help them. We believe that
the shortest way, in the case of the deception which is the subject of
this chapter, will be to describe first the illusion exactly as it ought
to appear to the audience, and then follow that with the plan which
we used in the last chapter for imparting the secrets.
Imagine, then, the conjurer commencing by coming forward to the
audience with nothing in his hands, and asking permission to pluck a
billiard ball from a gentleman’s beard, preferably a snow white beard.
After indicating to those near just where the ball is nesting, he
reaches forward with his right hand, just touches the beard with his
fingers, and sure enough a red billiard ball is produced. On the stage,
or in the part of the room which forms the stage, is a table. The table
is on the prompt side—that is to say, on the right-hand side as seen
from the auditorium. The conjurer goes up to the table, and drops
1
the billiard ball on a plate which is lying there in readiness (1).
Everyone can hear that the billiard ball is a solid one. It is, in fact,
an ivory ball. To use wood or other imitation substances detracts
much from the experiment. When the balls are knocked together, one
hears that little click peculiar to real billiard balls. This convinces the
audience that the balls are heavy and consequently difficult to man­
age, which they usually are. But the effect of using ivory balls well
repays one for the extra work required in practising the manipula­
tions.
“I am very glad you brought a white beard,” continues the con­
jurer, “because you see I have a red ball. Now, from a red beard
I usually get a white ball, but it is really all the same to me. You
observe that this ball is distinctly red. I have only to pass my right
hand lightly over it, and it becomes a white one. I will tell you how
that is done. I use two. The red one is hidden behind the white.”
On saying this, the conjurer, with the fingers of his right hand,
takes the red ball from behind the white, which is between the
finger and thumb of his left hand (2).
“I will explain how a conjurer can pocket the white.” Here he
picks up the white ball, which he had dropped with the other on the
1The “prompt side” of the stage in English theaters is, as the author says, the
right-hand side as seen from the auditorium. But in the United States the prompt
side is the l e ft side as viewed by the audience. P.F.
MULTIPLICATION 197
plate, “Look! I throw this into the air, and it seems to disappear.
In reality, it has dropped into this little pocket behind my right
knee.’’
Apparently he throws it up into the air and it vanishes; im­
mediately afterward, he reproduces it from behind his right knee (3).
“I am covered with secret pockets. I had nine tailors to make that
one.” Saying this, he transfers the ball to his left hand. “There is

another thing I can do with a billiard ball. I can cause it to multiply.

I simply touch this one and it becomes two, each quite solid.” Again
he drops them on the plate.
“That is quite easy with two hands, but it is much more difficult
with one hand only. If the ladies will excuse me I will roll up one
of my sleeves, and show you what I mean.” He pulls his right coat-
sleeve over his elbow, rolls up his shirt-sleeve over it, and (picking
up one of the white balls, and rapping it on the table-top to prove
198 OUR MAGIC
again its solidity) he holds it in the position shown in Fig. 10, and is
ready to commence the most important part of the experiment.
It will be noticed that if the body is twisted to the left, without
altering the position of the hand holding the ball, the performer
will naturally show both sides of the hand as well as the ball, and
it will be obvious that nothing but the ball is in the hand. When
a second ball appears suddenly beside it (4), while the conjurer
holds his hand thus outstretched, the full length of his arm from
his body, and when the conjurer further proves that they are both
solid ivory balls by knocking them together (5), then indeed we have
a surprise which savors of real magic.
A rule laid down by Professor Hoffmann, and insisted on by
most other writers, is to the effect that no feat of magic should be
repeated at the same performance. But, as was pointed out in the
first part of this book, that rule does not apply to an effect like the
present. If it is wonderful to see one ball produced, it is more wonder­
ful to see two balls, and then three. The fourth is considered more
wonderful still, but were there a weak point in the trick of obtain­
ing these balls or any suspiciously unnatural movement used, then
it would not bear the repetition which, as it is, forms the perplexing
part of this feat. Our conjurer, having proved the two balls solid,
stretches out the hand containing them, holding one ball between the
thumb and first finger and the other between the second and third
fingers (6). Again he describes a half-circle with his arm, showing
all sides of both hand and balls, and again a new ball appears from
nowhere (7).
The inexplicable thing about this is that the balls are solid ivory,
a fact which the conjurer takes care to impress upon the onlookers
by taking one of the three with his disengaged hand and knocking it
against the other two (8). Having done this, he shows the three
as before. Slowly the hand is turned in every direction; only three
balls can be seen. Again that slight shake of the one hand, and once
more a ball mysteriously joins those already there (9). There are
now four balls between the five digits of the hand. The hand can
hold no more. The balls are dropped on the plate, one at a time,
to show again that they are solid ivory (10).
It must be remembered that we are taking these examples of
magic from an actual, existing repertoire, and therefore (although
the billiard ball feat is now virtually over) there is still a second
phase of the experiment to describe, in which eggs are used. The
conjurer continues:—
MULTIPLICATION 199
“There is still another little thing I can do with a billiard ball.
I can transform a billiard ball into anything that I happen to want.
Suppose I want a mutton chop or a footbath. All I have to do is
to pass my hand lightly over a billiard ball and I get what I require,
which in this case is an egg” (11).
Here the transformation is effected in exactly the same way as
the former change from the red ball to the white. In this case, it is
also as well to use the red ball for the sake of the contrast in color.
It will be found that white balls can be seen by an audience much
better than red ones, and that is why white is chosen for the principal
effect we have described.
Having got the egg, the performer produces the billiard ball from
the back of the hand (12) and throws it on the plate with the others.
Sundry movements are executed with the egg—in dumb show, of
course. During the production of the billiard balls, the conjurer has
been talking. We have only indicated the patter actually used here
and there, because we cannot communicate the manner of speaking
along with the words. The style of delivery cannot be taught here.
For instance, one of the little jokes of the original performer was
to say, “You notice, ladies and gentlemen, that my hand never leaves
the end of my arm.’’ This looks inane in type, but said in a certain
manner it always elicited a laugh.
Placing the egg on the left hand, the conjurer makes it vanish and
reproduces it from the elbow (13). It is then put into the mouth,
swallowed, and reproduced from underneath the edge of the waist­
coat (14). Again it is placed between the lips, swallowed, and found
behind the right ear (15). Once more it is put into the mouth, and
rediscovered in the right-hand waistcoat pocket, B, shown in Fig. 9
(16), and then taken in the left hand and passed from the left side
of the left knee to the opposite side of the right knee. The effect
in this case ought to be as though there were a tube through which
the egg is thrown. It goes in at one end, and is met by the other hand
on emerging at the other (17). It is passed through the body in the
same way. The performer puts the egg in the left hand, smacks
himself on the back, and meets the egg at about the top button of
the waistcoat (18). Now, as a variant, he drops it into his left sleeve
from the left hand, and to all appearances it travels across his back
and visibly rolls out of his right sleeve (19). Lastly he bangs the
top of his head with the left hand in which he has once more de­
posited the egg, and this harlequin of an egg appears between his
lips. Receiving it in the palm of his right hand (20), he places it
200 OUR MAGIC
in his left (21), and then (seemingly to his own great astonishment)
another appears in his mouth. This he also meets with his right
hand, and transfers to his left (22). This is repeated thrice more,
and thus four eggs are produced from the mouth to the accompani­
ment—as a rule—of hearty laughter from the whole audience. (See
Fig. 11.)

The last part of the feat must be done delicately, and with the
light comedian’s sense of humor, but these touches we cannot im­
part. We have described the illusion, and it must be left to the
student as to whether it suits his style. Done in the wrong way,
the production of eggs from the mouth would appear vulgar. Done
in the right way, it is simply amusing and an excellent finish to
multiplication.
TRICKS OR DEVICES
A shell of celluloid to represent half a white ball. It fits neatly,
but not at all tightly over three of the five white balls used. The
remaining two white balls are made a little larger than the others.
One of them is so large that the shell fits over it fairly tightly, and
MULTIPLICATION 201
the other is a little bigger, so that when the shell is pressed on to it
the ball can be thrown about without dislodging the shell.
The exact sizes of the balls before us are as follows: —
A-RED, 1 3/4 inches. B-WHITE, 1 13/16 inches. C-WHITE,
1 25/32. D—, E—, and F—WHITE, 1 3/4 inches. SHELL, 1 7/8 inches.
Celluloid eggs G, H, I, J, and K. We shall refer to the balls and eggs
by these letters.
A very useful device is the wire ball-holder, made of one piece
of brass wire twisted into the form seen in the picture of the ap­
paratus, Fig. 12. Three of these are used, but more may be used
if the performer desires.

Sleights.Two modes of concealing a ball or egg in the hand are

used. The first is what is known as “palming,” and consists of holding
the object between the ball of the thumb and that raised part of the
palm on the opposite side of the hand. (See Fig. 13.) The ball is
held by a slight contraction of the muscles at the base of the thumb.
To learn how to palm the ball in this way, place the ball in the
center of the open hand with all the fingers wide apart, and try to
grip the ball by moving the whole length of the thumb inward
without bending any part of it. After considerable practice, it will
be found that a small object can be held in this way without moving
any of the fingers to any appreciable extent, and the hand can be
turned right over and held in any position without danger of drop­
ping the object. (See Fig. 14.)
The next thing to acquire is the power of using the fingers freely
by handling other things, at the same time that the concealed ob­
ject is palmed. As concealment is the sole reason for this sleight, it
follows that the last and not the least important part of the practice
202 OUR MAGIC
must be devoted to drilling oneself into always holding the hand
in such a position that no one can see any part of the palmed article.
Another and easier way of concealing the ball in the hand is used
in this combination; we shall refer to it hereafter as the “finger
palm.” The ball is held as in Figs. 15 and 16, and the method is learned

in this way: Slightly bend the fingers of one hand, and lay the ball
in the hollow thus formed. (See Fig. 15.) Then bend the fingers
just sufficiently to grip the ball and turn the hand over afterward.
(See Fig. 16.) Practise gripping the ball with the two middle fingers,

leaving the other two free for such use as can be made of them with­
out disclosing the presence of the concealed ball. They can be
stretched out, but cannot be spread wide apart.
There are also two “transfers” to practise. We shall allude to
MULTIPLICATION 203
them as the “single transfer” and the “double transfer.” To acquire
the first, which is used to convey the ball from the finger palm to
the palm proper of one hand, it is necessary to bend the two middle
fingers inward very quickly. This ought to be done without moving
the other fingers. Try it first without the ball, and when the tips

of the middle fingers can be made to touch the ball of the thumb
without much movement of the remaining fingers, palm one of the
balls and make the same movement, which will roll the ball very
quickly into the right position for the palm proper. A pressure of
the fingers must be made simultaneously with the grip of the receiv­
ing palm which holds the ball, leaving the fingers free to be stretched
out again immediately.
The double transfer is easier when once the pupil has acquired
facility in the other sleights. We use it to transfer a concealed ball
from one hand to the other. It consists in finger palming with one
hand and palming with the other. The palm of the receiving hand
is brought over the ball, finger palmed in the other, or the fingers
of the receiving hand are brought over the ball in the palm of the
opposite hand. To do this, the hands must be brought together on
some excuse of other; and in Fig. 17 we have the right hand taking
a visible ball from between the finger and thumb of the left hand,
and at the same time transferring a hidden ball from the palm of
the right hand to the finger palm of the left. In Fig. 18, the hands
are seen together, being taken across the body. In Fig. 19, the move­
ment is completed, and the hidden ball is finger palmed in the left
204 OUR MAGIC
hand (now back to the spectators) while the palm of the right is
exposed. By repeating this movement, one gets the effect of showing
both hands back and front, without pointedly referring to them.

The ostensible reason for doing this is to display the visible billiard
ball.
“Apparent transfers” are also very important sleights. We shall
attempt to describe those used in the illusion of “Multiplication.”
We shall name the sleights (for later reference) “apparent transfer
with palm,” “apparent transfer with finger palm,” and “apparent
transfer with combination palm.” By “apparent transfer,” we mean
the apparent taking or placing of a ball in one of the hands, while
in reality it is retained by the other.
APPARENT TRANSFER WITH PALM
The ball is held on the open palm of the right hand. The left
hand is about to pick it up (as shown in Fig. 20), but the fingers
do not close over it, although they appear to do so. In reality, as
the hands are separated, the right is turned with the back to the
audience to conceal the ball (which is palmed), while the fingers
of the left are made to curl over an imaginary ball. (See Fig. 21.)
APPARENT TRANSFER WITH FINGER PALM
The ball is held in the grip of the fingers (Fig. 22), and the hand
holding it is turned toward the open palm of the other hand, as
though dropping the ball into it. (See Fig. 23.) But the fingers do
not relax; they retain the ball, while the fingers of the other hand
curl over as though they had really received it. Just before making
MULTIPLICATION 205
206 OUR MAGIC

this transfer, the ball can be thrown up

and caught in the hollowed fingers, or
dropped from a position between the
finger and thumb, and thence apparent­
ly tossed into the other hand.
APPARENT TRANSFER BY COMBINATION
PALM
In this sleight, the action of putting
the ball into the opposite hand is simu­
lated, whereas in the first transfer the
ball was apparently taken by the receiv­
ing hand, and in the second it was dropped into the receiving hand.
The ball is held between the finger and thumb of one hand (Fig. 24),
and as that hand travels toward the other the ball is dropped into the
finger palm position (Fig. 25), thence transferred to the palm proper,
and the fingers of both hands take part in an imitation of giving and
receiving the ball. (See Fig. 26.)
We hope that the pictures will help the student to understand
the movements, the explanation of which, in words, is very difficult.
MULTIPLICATION 207
A looking-glass will do more for the student than any written de­
scription. Once he understands the sequence of any given move,
let him try it before a mirror without the secret palms, and then,
when he is quite familiar with the appearance of the real movement,
let him add the necessary hidden manipulations. If he finds that
the real and the imitation appear natural and look alike, then he
will have taught himself how to use the subterfuge. Further, he will

realize just how much difference there is between knowing what

to do and how to do it, just where the secrets sink into insignificance
as compared with the power of acting.
We do not advise the use of the mirror except as a check on pre­
liminary crudities, because one is apt, after long practice before a
glass, to depend too much upon its aid.
PREPARATIONS
The balls and eggs are disposed about the person in the following
way. The holders are hung on to spring hooks sewn to the trousers
in the position seen in Fig. 27; and balls D—, E—, and C—WHITE
are put into them, D and E being nearest to the left hand of the
208 OUR MAGIC
performer. The eggs G, H, and I are placed under the waistcoat
on the left-hand side.
Eggs J and K are put, one in the right waistcoat pocket B2 and
one in coat-pocket A. Balls F—WHITE and B—WHITE (with the
shell on it) are placed in pocket E, F—WHITE being nearer the left
hand. The remaining ball, A—RED, is put under the waistcoat at
about the center.3
To hold the eggs and balls under the waistcoat with safety, the
waistcoat is prepared in the following way. It is first buttoned up,
and then slit up the back seam. A tab with a large button and button­
hole is placed behind the collar, a loop of elastic and a button are
at the middle of the back, and again at the back of the waistline,
as seen in the picture. (See Fig. 27.)4
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) After showing the hands, let the left hand rest lightly upon
the lower edge of the waistcoat, and press ball A—RED down with the
thumb and finger palm it. Act as though you were about to take the
ball from the beard with the empty right hand, and pull up the right
sleeve with the left hand. Then pull up the left sleeve with the
right hand and, as the hands cross, execute the double transfer. To
produce the ball, plunge the fingers into the beard or behind some
other object, and let the ball roll or drop quickly to the fingertips.
Immediately afterward, bring it into view very slowly. When turning
to the table to drop the ball on the plate, bring the left hand (which
is hanging at the side) to pocket E, secure the ball F—WHITE
from there, and finger palm it.
(2) The double transfer is executed once or twice, finally leaving
the white ball in the right hand and the red ball between the finger
and thumb of the left hand. The right hand is placed in front of
the red ball, and finger palms it. The moment the fingers grip it,
2 The designation “B” is not given in the original text at this point, nor is such a
pocket indicated in Mr. Devant’s illustration of the magician’s dress-coat. However,
reference to “pocket B” appears later in the author’s explanation, and we have ven­
tured to include a secret pocket, marked B, in Fig. 9 (p. 195). Mr. Devant may have
placed egg J or K in the regular “right waistcoat pocket” (as his instructions would
seem to indicate); but we suggest that it would be less likely to “bulge” if it were
held3 in a sufficiently roomy secret pocket, such as B in Fig. 9. P.F.
The author tells the reader to place A—RED in pocket E, and F—WHITE under
the waistcoat; but this is obviously an error, and we have revised the instructions (both
here and on later pages) so as to permit the performer to get the effects described by
the 4author earlier in the chapter. P.F.
The original illustration deviates from the text at this point. Our own drawing
shows three tabs at the positions indicated. We believe this arrangement will serve as
well as any. P.F.
MULTIPLICATION 209
the finger and thumb of the left hand leave the red ball and grasp
the white, which has been brought by the palm of the right hand
just underneath. The right hand is lowered away again, taking the
red ball with it, and this is transferred from the fingers to the palm
by the single transfer, and the white ball is displayed. The double
transfer is used, and the red ball is produced from behind the white.
(3) Standing with his right side toward the audience, the con­
jurer throws the ball a couple of feet high. It is caught by the finger
palm, and while the hand makes an upward motion (as though
throwing the ball a second time) the single transfer is executed very
smartly, and the fingers are spread wide apart. While the ball is
being produced from the right knee, the conjurer, using the left
hand, obtains B—WHITE (with the shell on) from pocket E, and
finger palms it. Now an apparent transfer (by the combination
palm) is made with F—WHITE to the left hand, which discloses
B—WHITE at the same instant. Another double transfer is made
to show only one ball, and then F—WHITE is produced from
behind B-WHITE.

(4) Loosen the ball in the shell slightly with the fingers of
one hand. Then hold both shell and ball by the thumb and
first finger of the right hand (Fig. 28), in such a way that the
second finger can be brought down behind and underneath the ball.
(See Fig. 29.) Lift the ball and roll it upward, so that it finally rests
between the upper part of the first finger and the lower side of the
second finger. (See Fig. 30.)
210 OUR MAGIC
(5) The left hand has secured D—WHITE, and finger palmed
it; and, as the performer takes the newly produced ball from be­
tween the first and second fingers of his right hand with the finger
and thumb of his left, he neatly puts the hidden ball into the shell
without any effort further than receiving and holding it with the
finger and thumb that hold the shell.
(6) After knocking the solid balls together without disclosing
the presence of the shell (which is now on D—WHITE), the con­

jurer places B—WHITE between the second and third fingers of

the right hand.
(7) The second finger is kept close to the first finger, and eventu­
ally is slipped behind and under the ball in the shell, and brings it
into view as it did the last ball. The difficulty is greatly increased,
because the movement of the second finger is hampered by the ball
resting above it, which has to be held by the two fingers during
the whole operation.
(8) The conjurer obtains E—WHITE and gets it into the empty
shell as he did D, by taking away from the right hand the last pro­
duced ball for the purpose of knocking it against the other two.
(9) When he replaces the ball, he puts it between the third and
little fingers of his right hand, leaving the space between the first
and second fingers to be filled in the same way as before, but the
difficulty is increased.
(10) He has once more secured a ball (C—WHITE) with the left
hand, which carries it behind the shell under the pretext of taking
MULTIPLICATION 211
the last produced ball away to drop it on the plate. C—WHITE is
the biggest ball, and it is pressed well into the shell, which half
covers it. When the ball is dropped on the plate with the others,
it safely carries the shell with it.
(11) Turning to the left, the conjurer reaches across to the plate
and picks up the red ball with his right hand. Under cover of this
movement, the left hand goes to pocket A and finger palms the egg.
The double transfer and change are effected in the same way as with
the red and white balls.
(12) It is put behind the hand by the apparent transfer with
combination palm done very quickly, and rolled back into view
very slowly.
(13) Apparent transfer with palm.
(14) Apparent transfer with combination palm.
(15) The same.
(16) It is now really put into the mouth and held there while
another egg is taken from waistcoat pocket B.
(17 and 18) The same as 14.
(19) Apparent transfer with combination palm. While the left
hand appears to be dropping an egg down the sleeve, the right-hand
fingers pull the right sleeve over the egg in the palm, so that the egg
actually rolls out of the sleeve on its reappearance in public.
(20) Apparent transfer with combination palm. The palm con­
cealing the egg is brought right over the egg between the lips, and
under the cover thus given the egg in the mouth is drawn back
again into the mouth, and the concealed egg is held for a moment
by the lips and then dropped into the hand which was lowered the
moment the second egg was in position.
(21) Visibly and actually, but during the last movement, the left
hand has secured one of the eggs from under the vest and finger
palmed it. This egg is transferred to the right hand when it places
the visible egg in the left.
(22) The movements of 20 and 21 are repeated. The last egg
to drop into the hand is, of course, the one which has been held
in the mouth from movement 16. The particular egg used for this
purpose must be selected to fit the mouth comfortably, and may
be a little smaller than the others.
CHAPTER III
WITH FIGURES. SIMPLE ADDITION
e have chosen the subject for this chapter as a direct
and striking contrast to the illusion dealt with in the
last.
In “Multiplication,” we used a great number of devices dependent
upon manual dexterity, and the audience will undoubtedly give
the performer credit for phenomenal cleverness with his hands;
especially if he understands how to present the feat with proper
reserve and does not give way to over-elaboration, as, for instance,
causing the balls to disappear again by the same device used for
the production, and running through the movements so quickly
as to give the general effect of beads on a string being played with.
We shall presume that the conjurer has caught the spirit of our
teaching, and makes each movement telling and illusive. Even then,
the spectators will feel instinctively that they are looking at a wonder­
ful feat of manual dexterity, which is to them baffling and perplexing.
Simple addition is of quite a different caliber. Here the spectators
themselves take a great part in the preliminaries, and the impression
made upon their minds is totally different. At the end of the feat,
they should be inclined to look upon the performer as a person
who deals in the supernatural. And yet the tricks used are absolutely
simple, and do not require the arduous practice necessary for sleight-
of-hand. All the cleverness is concealed in the devices used for mis­
direction, and the result is an illusion which is superior to the best
that can be attained by the manipulator. Naturally, that is disappoint­
ing to the man who has spent hours practising sleights. He finds
it hard to believe that some of the best and most striking feats of
magic are independent of manual dexterity, and he is slow to admit
the beauty of their simplicity. In short, he fails to grasp the fact
that sleight-of-hand comprises only some of the means used to pro­
duce an illusion.
In Fig. 31, the performer is seen advancing to the audience with
a number of cards, on each of which is printed a large figure. There
are twenty of them—two sets of figures from one to nought. He also
holds a skeleton wooden case which is meant to contain them. Be­
hind him is seen a table (any ordinary table answers the purpose)
[212]
SIMPLE ADDITION 213
and above the table are hanging two lengths of chain terminating
in hooks, hooked together. On the table are lying a Japanese tray
(1), a lighted candle in a candlestick, and (on the top of some loose
sheets of paper) an ordinary looking school slate (2).

The chains may be suspended from anything handy, so long as

they hang in the position indicated (3); and if chains are not avail­
able, lengths of cord will answer the purpose just as well.
Handing the cards to one of the spectators and the case to another,
the conjurer asks that they be examined, to see that there is no
hidden mechanism in the case and that the cards are ordinary. He
tells the gentleman who takes the cards that he may mix them up,
but requests him not to turn them upside down or face to face.
While the frame and cards are being scrutinized, the performer
requests the loan of a handkerchief which he takes and throws on
the table. From the table he picks up the slate (4).
214 OUR MAGIC
Showing both sides of the slate which, if he thinks necessary, he
may rub with his fingers or clean with a damp sponge, the conjurer
says: —
“I am also going to use this slate. You observe there is no writing
upon it, but as it is sometimes suspected that I have another slate
concealed about me I propose to mark this one. Will one of the
ladies suggest which letter of the alphabet I shall write upon the
slate?” (Someone suggests B.) “Very well, we shall put B on this
side. You see there is nothing on this side. I now wrap the slate in
this borrowed handkerchief.”
He picks up the handkerchief from the table with the left hand,
holding the slate in the right hand with the blank side facing the
audience. Finding that he cannot spread out the handkerchief with
one hand, he throws the slate on the table, marked side up, and
lays the top edge of the handkerchief along his right forearm. Then,
picking up the slate (5) and keeping the marked side toward the
audience, he holds it in front of the handkerchief and allows the top
edge of the handkerchief to fall over the edge of the slate, and wraps
the handkerchief round the slate as well as the size of the handker­
chief will allow. While this is being done, he continues speaking: —
‘‘These experiments are very much more interesting when ladies
take some part in them. Will one of the ladies be good enough to
take charge of this slate? Simply let it rest on your lap, and do not
allow it to be touched.”
Giving the covered slate to one of the ladies, the conjurer now
collects the cards and the case, and asks the persons who have been
holding them what the result of their examination is. They can only
reply that they have discovered nothing out of the ordinary. ‘‘That’s
what I mean,” says the conjurer. “There is no mechanism that you
can see.” (6.) Taking the articles up to the table, he calls attention
to the two chains by pointing at them with the packet of cards, so
that the audience notices the figure which happens to be on the top.
He then drops the cards face up on the Japanese tray, and stands
the case on the top of them. This is necessary, because otherwise the
conjurer’s hands would not be free to unhook the chains, one from
the other. Having done that, he immediately hooks the case on to
them, and then picks up the cards, squares them up, and grasping
them by the top edge (with the figure facing the audience) he
slides them into the case, helping the operation by holding the
swinging case with the left hand and tilting it to a convenient angle
for the insertion of the cards (7).
SIMPLE ADDITION 215
“I hope,” he remarks apologetically, “that you are not getting
bored with these preparations. There is not much more to do. The
only other appliances I shall use are this small slip of writing paper,
a playing card to act as a sort of temporary writing desk, and a
piece of pencil to write with.”
Here he takes these articles from his waistcoat pocket and dis­
plays them one by one and then, laying the paper on the card, he
advances toward the auditorium and continues:— (8)
“I want three persons—any three persons—to be kind enough
to write three figures each on this paper. Perhaps you, sir, will be
good enough to write three single figures in a row across the paper.”
The card with the paper on it and the pencil are handed to the
first victim, then to another person who writes three more figures,
and finally to a third who completes the requisite sum of nine
figures.
All these details must seem insufferably dull to our readers, but
there is no choice left to us. We must set them down whether they
are read or not. We can only excuse ourselves by pointing out that
it is on the minute details of any illusion that its success depends,
and they are infinitely more difficult to arrange than to describe.
Of course in practice the performer keeps the thing going by
pleasantries, such as this:—“Perhaps the lady next to you, sir, will
suggest what figures to write. You know that is an excellent plan
in writing figures. Get a lady to suggest the figures, and a man to
write them. It is often done when writing checks.
Addressing a fourth gentleman, the performer, having glanced
at the figures on the paper, says, “Now, I want someone to add
these figures together. You look a good arithmetician, sir. Do you
mind finding the total of this sum, and letting us know what
it is?” (9)
Handing him the paper, card, and pencil, the conjurer continues:—
“You see what has been done, ladies and gentleman. Three per­
sons, strangers to me, have written three figures each on a piece
of paper. Another gentleman is adding them together. You will
admit that it is impossible for me to know the answer to that sum
until our accountant tells us what it is.”
As soon as the information is forthcoming, it is announced by the
conjurer, who shows the paper to the three persons who wrote the
nine figures and repeats the answer to each one. This gives them
the opportunity to recognize their own writing on the paper (10),
and is ostensibly done to impress the total on their memory, because
216 OUR MAGIC
the performer tells them that the experiment necessitates the docu­
ment being burned. Crumpling it up, he sets light to it at the flame of
the candle and lays it burning on the card which he holds in his left
hand.
“So far anyone could have performed this experiment, but now
I shall show you a very curious thing,” says the magician. “You will
remember that a lady over there has been holding a marked slate
which I have not touched. Everyone knows that it is possible
to send pictures by television. What I am going to do is much simpler.
Here is a small piece of chalk. Watch.”
With the chalk he has taken from his pocket, the conjurer points
at the slate and moves it as though he were writing in large figures
the total of the sum, which we will suppose was 1623.
“I might have told you, ladies and gentlemen, that now the paper
is reduced to ashes, my writing in the air is sufficient to write upon
that slate the answer to your sum. Madam, would you mind un­
covering the slate yourself to see whether or not ‘1623’ is now
written upon it in chalk.”
The slate is uncovered, and the figures 1623 are seen to be
written boldly upon it. The performer hands back the handkerchief
to the owner, and displays both sides of the slate. When the ap­
plause and expressions of astonishment have subsided, he continues
with the second phase of the experiment, which is sure to go well
because it is a seasoned and tried success, being nothing more or less
than that classic feat so well known to conjurers as “The Rising
Cards.” But this version has an air of novelty. The large numbered
cards—they are six inches by four—replace the ordinary playing
cards and, to the lay mind, this change is sufficient to give a new
aspect to the old effect. Strangely enough, no one appears to have
thought of altering the size and character of the cards, although
countless means have been devised for the rising process itself.1
“You will admit that so far I have not deceived you—at least, not
much,” the performer continues jestingly, “but the most anxious
part of the problem is still to come. (He leans the slate against the
1At least one American magician thought of altering the size; for we recall having
seen “The Rising Cards” presented in 1902, with cards approximately six by nine inches
in size, by J. P. Culbertson, of Carlisle, Pennsylvania, who performed under the stage
name “Keene.” We are somewhat puzzled by the author’s statement that his numbered
cards were six by four inches in size, and are inclined to think that this is a misprint.
In the photographic halftone in the original edition, the cards held by Mr. Devant
appear to be much larger than the size he has given in his explanation. P.F.
SIMPLE ADDITION 217
candlestick and picks up the tray.) You will remember that a
gentleman over there mixed up these cards which have remained
isolated over there ever since. (To emphasize this, he passes the tray
over and around the frame.) What I shall attempt now is to separate
the figures written on the slate, impossible for me to know before­
hand, from the other figures in this case. I shall use a curious motive
power very little used even by mechanicians.
“For instance, you have heard of Number One looking after him­
self. Now you shall see. Number One, come out. You see Number
One rises to the occasion. (He takes the card out of the case, and
drops it on the tray in his left hand.) The next figure is six. “Six,
come out quickly!” (The card which rises is a nine. The performer
appears to be confused, but only for a moment.) “I see what it is,”
he explains confidently. “It is a six, but it is upside down. I put
it back again, the same way that it appeared. (He does so.) (11.)
Now turn yourself round, Six, and come up properly. (The card
rises with the number showing as six.) Now, Two, come out very
slowly, half-way. (While this card is coming up, a good effect is
produced by the conjurer waving another card over the top of it,
to prove to the audience that the cards are not being pulled up
from above, which is usually their only solution.) That’s right.
Now show your better half quickly.
“The last figure is a three. Three, come out quickly. Three, jump
out.” (The card jumps three or four feet in the air and is, if possible,
caught on the tray.) (12.) The complete total is now displayed on
the tray and our feat of magic with figures is over. Before we close,
it may be well to point out that the numbered cards can be easily
dispensed with when showing in a small room, or where the cords
cannot be conveniently hung up. The latter part of the effect was
designed by the original performer to give spectators at the back
of a large hall or theater something to look at; otherwise, only those
in the front rows, who handled the slate and wrote the sum, would
appreciate what was done, and the gallery might feel a little out
of it. When arranging a conjuring problem, it is well to remember
that it ought to appeal both to the mind and the eye, to old and
young, to gallery and orchestra.
TRICKS OR DEVICES, AND PREPARATIONS
(a) The figures are already on the slate at the commencement,
but are concealed by a false flap made of cardboard, covered on one
218 OUR MAGIC
side with paper, similar to the pieces that are lying on the table
and on the other side with paint to represent the slate. This false
side fits easily (but exactly) within the frame of the slate, and is
kept in position by the performer’s fingertips while the slate is being
handled.
(b ) On one side of the paper (offered for writing the nine figures
upon) is already written a similar sum, the total of which is upon
the slate. The figures are at the top right-hand corner of the paper.
(c) Ten extra cards are prepared. Five of them represent the
numbers in the total, the second number (9 or 6, depending upon
which way it is turned) being in duplicate. Another card is painted
upon one side to represent the inside of the Japanese tray used, and
four more act as partitions.

Fig. 32 shows how the cards are arranged to rise. A length of silk
thread is knotted at one end, and the knot is engaged in a slit made
by a sharp penknife at the lower edge of Card 3. It is then passed
behind Card 3 and over partition B, under Card 2 and over parti­
tion C, under 6 and over D, under 9 and over E., and finally under 1
and over F.2 The cards are laid face up on the Japanese tray, with
F at the bottom; the thread is passed over the back edge of the tray,
down to a screw-eye in a back leg of the table, near the foot, and
thence along the floor to an assistant at the back or side; and the
painted card (representing the inside of the tray) is laid on top.
The tray should be deep enough to receive all the cards; and its
inside measurement should be a trifle greater than the outside
2 In the original edition, the reader was instructed to thread the cards in the reverse
order (that is, beginning with Card 1), but such an arrangement would cause them to
rise in this order—3, 2, 6, 9, 1—which would clearly be wrong. P.F.
SIMPLE ADDITION 219
measurement of the cards, except in length, which should measure
a few inches more than the cards.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) Which contains the cards, prepared as above.
(2) The false side is on the top.
(3) Just over the leg of the table on which the screw-eye is fixed.
(4) Taking care to put one or two fingers on the flap to hold it
in position.
(5) Without the false flap.
(6) If the top card shows one of the figures in the arranged total,
alter it on the journey.
(7) The cards are dropped on the prepared pack in the tray, and
when they are picked up again the prepared cards are taken with
them. The squaring up of the cards—which is done by knocking
the edges of the cards on the tray—is necessary to prevent the edges
of the painted card being observed.
(8) In displaying the paper, the sum is covered by two fingers,
and when the paper is laid on the card the sum is underneath the
lower end of the paper.
(9) When the performer receives the card and paper from the
third person, he takes the paper off the card and (again concealing
the prepared sum with two fingers) glances at it. When he has found
a volunteer to do the addition he replaces the card with the prepared
side up.
(10) On receiving the paper back, the performer again takes it off
the card and turns it, and when he shows it to the persons who
wrote the figures he has his thumb, apparently by accident, over
the place where the total should be written. The persons are satisfied
with this statement, and the rest of the audience will imagine that
they have actually seen the total under their own figures. All the
persons who handle the paper should be some distance apart, so
that they cannot easily compare notes.
(11) Taking care to put it among the unprepared cards in front.
(12) This disengages the thread from the slit, and the assistant
pulls it in out of sight. The thread must, of course, be invisible to
those in the front row of seats. Therefore, the distance and the
background must be considered and chosen beforehand, and tested.
CHAPTER IV
WITH A BORROWED WATCH. THE
FORGOTTEN GUEST
omedy in conjuring usually depends on the apparent destruc­
tion or loss of some confiding person’s property, and in this
class of magic an assistant from the audience is generally
asked to take charge of the borrowed article. A great deal of laughter
is caused when this innocent gentleman is made to appear to lose
valuable jewelry or unwittingly destroy things. In this and the fol­
lowing chapter, we propose to give examples of this kind of work,
which is always popular, especially with juveniles.
Great tact is required by the conjurer who asks anyone to assist
him. The conjurer must always remember that the volunteer helper
is rendering a service, and that it would be very bad taste on the
conjurer’s part to repay this favor by making the stranger feel un­
comfortable or attempting to disconcert him in any way whatever.
The audience expects to be entertained by the conjurer, not by
jokes at the expense of individuals among them. On the other hand,
there is nothing they like better if they feel that the individual is a
willing victim, or if the performer can so arrange the affair that no
one is offended at the finish.
To accomplish this, the wizard will be wise to treat the good-
natured man who usually responds to an invitation to step up and
hold something, not as an inferior and ignorant person, but as a good
friend who is worthy of all consideration. No man cares to look the
fool, but only a foolish person will refuse to take part in a joke when
once he has taken the first step; and, when he understands that he is
playing part of the game, he will rather enjoy it.
An experienced conjurer will not call upon a volunteer assistant
without first obtaining his consent to help. After that he will take
him into his confidence. A whispered word at the right moment will
give the visitor a feeling of importance, especially if the conjurer
conveys the idea that the success of the evening depends upon his
kind assistance.
Manners make or mar any entertainer who gets into personal touch
with an audience, and if our magician lacks the right manner for
managing people he had better leave this particular sort of work
[220]
THE FORGOTTEN GUEST 221
alone and make up his program with problems that do not require
the assistance of the spectators, for alas! we cannot give him the secret
of it.
The presentation of the illusion we are about to describe takes
about ten minutes, and it1 has never failed to keep any audience
laughing the whole time. As the actual feat performed (namely,
passing a watch from a paper-bag into a man’s pocket) hardly seems
important enough to fill that time in a conjuring seance, we propose
in this instance to give every word of the original patter. Once again,
we must impress upon the reader that we are simply giving examples
of how illusions are built up from very simple material and made
entertaining. We do not ask our would-be wizard to wear our second­
hand clothes—that is to say, to use our patter. We are ashamed to see
our clothes thus set out in the light. Still, the student will see the cut
and the workmanship, and he can get his own cloth and cut it to suit
his own figure. Our models would never fit him.
When the conjurer commences this experiment, he has a sheet of
white paper in his right hand, and on a small table behind him a
conjurer’s pistol and a silk handkerchief. A box of safety matches is
secreted behind some other article on the table—say, a candlestick—
and a chair is also provided. The conjurer begins: —
“For one more infliction, I must borrow a watch. Is there anyone
who will lend me a watch? I see lots of chains. A modern watch will
do, any ordinary watch that will last out the experiment!
“Thank you. That lady offers me her watch. Now, I want a boy
to help me with this. Just an ordinary boy; I don’t want a boy over
fifty. I simply want a boy to hold the watch for a few minutes, so that
I don’t touch it myself. It makes the experiment so much more inter­
esting. (Here a boy usually gets up from his seat and advances.)
Make haste, there’s no hurry. You might bring that lady’s watch with
you. That’s right. Now come up here. (The boy puts one foot on the
last step leading to the platform.) Bring the other leg up with you.
Would you mind standing over there (indicating a position on the
left of the platform as the boy faces the audience) and will you please
hold up the watch so that everyone can see it?
“Now do you mind acting as a committee, a committee of one, a
sort of watch committee, and will you do everything I ask you? How
nice to have a committee that does all you ask!”
1 Somewhat similar watch-and-rabbit tricks were presented with great success by
Karl Germain, and by the late Paul Valadon (who once co-starred with Harry Kellar).
P.F.
222 OUR MAGIC
The conjurer is holding the paper with his right hand by the
left-side top corner (1). (See Fig. 33.) He now takes hold of the left-
hand bottom corner with his left hand, and pulls it up toward himself
and over the corner in his right hand. Then he twists the top corner
round inside, and the bottom corner round outside. When he has
done this, he will be in a fair way to form the sort of bag grocers make

to hold a small quantity of sugar. We hope the rest will come

naturally, because we find it beyond us to describe the operation fur­
ther. The bag is finished by screwing the point up in the usual way
(2). The inside of the bag is shown to the boy, and the bag is then
handed to him. All this is done to the accompaniment of a waltz tune
played by the piano or orchestra, and the cue for the music to
commence is: “I am going to make this piece of paper into a sort of
cornucopia.” This information is addressed to the audience, and the
conjurer proceeds to twist up the paper. Turning to the boy, he
unexpectedly addresses him:—
THE FORGOTTEN GUEST 223
“How do you like the weather? It’s rather colder than that warm
weather, isn’t it? What a great many changes we’ve had after the
changes. Such a lot of weather for the time of year. Do you reverse?”
The effect of this should be that the performer has been suddenly
inspired by the waltz tune to give an impromptu burlesque of a
dancing couple’s conversation as heard through the music, and it
must be spoken in a high pitched voice.
“Well, here is my apparatus. (The music stops.) I couldn’t use
anything simpler, could I?” says the conjurer, showing the inside of
the bag to the boy and then placing it in the hand not already occu­
pied in holding the watch. “I want you to hold this bag and to hold
the watch above it by the ring, so that everyone can see it. (Steps a
few feet away from the boy.) Now, when I tell you to drop the watch
into the bag, don’t drop it on the floor, will you? Don’t laugh. This is
serious. Now drop it gently.”
The boy duly drops the watch into the bag, and the conjurer
continues: “I think everyone must be absolutely certain that the
watch is now in the bag. Are you certain?” The question is addressed
to the boy who, as a rule, promptly makes quite sure by looking into
the bag, and the conjurer, amid much laughter, can bow to the
implied compliment. He continues: —
“May I close the bag? I do this myself because I do these things
so gracefully, don’t I? Like an elephant getting off a bicycle on a
muddy day. Now will you hold the bag so, and stay like that for about
three-quarters of an hour, if you don’t mind?” (3.)
A laughable bit of business is now introduced. Having folded the
top of the bag over and instructed the boy to hold it by a finger and
thumb, the conjurer turns to the table at the back to get his pistol and
handkerchief, but before going he whispers to the boy to feel if the
watch is still in the bag. While the performer has his back turned the
boy naturally does so; at least, it appears to the audience to be a
natural thing for a smart boy to do. Attracted by the laughter that
ensues the conjurer turns round, and says, “Well, it hasn’t gone yet,
has it?” This query also appears natural to the boy, and he has no idea
that the episode is looked at in a different way by the audience. To
them the conjurer appears to have been taken at a disadvantage, and
to have stood the test well. Clever conjurer!
Now the performer calls attention to the pistol and handkerchief,
and also announces what he is about to do, in this way:—
“I have here a small pistol! I shall load it with this handkerchief.
When I fire this pistol, the watch in this bag will take an invisible
224 OUR MAGIC
flight round the room, and finally alight in a gentleman’s pocket,
without my touching the boy or leaving the platform. I want one of
the gentlemen in the audience to say that he is willing to receive the
watch in his pocket. If there is anyone who will do this, will he please
hold up his foot—I mean his hand. Of course, I must have a re­
sponsible person—say, a married man. Thank you, sir. It is very kind

of you. (To the boy.) That gentleman over there with a black coat
and two ears is going to receive the watch. Can you see him?”
Then follows the business of aiming the pistol at the boy as though
about to fire, and pretending to discover that the boy is frightened of
the report.
“Don’t look like that. Good-bye.” He solemnly shakes the boy’s
hand in farewell. “You really need not be nervous. I’ve performed
this experiment some hundreds of times, and I’ve killed only one
boy (4). He died, but he was only a very small boy. But I see one of
THE FORGOTTEN GUEST 225
the ladies looking nervous. Well, perhaps it would be better if I
dispensed with the pistol and made a sort of air gun of this part.
Look.”
The barrel of the pistol is pulled away from the butt, which is
thrown on the table. The handkerchief is apparently vanished by the
mere act of blowing through the barrel in the direction of the bag.
The barrel is then shown to be empty, and is laid down with the
pistol. The conjurer now takes the bag, and in dumb show extracts
an invisible watch from the cornucopia and throws it toward the
volunteer who is to receive it. He then unrolls the paper, and only
the handkerchief is seen. (See Fig. 34.) The paper is spread out
under the boy’s nose, and he may pick up the handkerchief and shake
it. (He is invited, in a whisper, to do so.) The watch is no longer there
(5).
The conjurer has, of course, been talking during this business.
After blowing the handkerchief away, he says:— ‘‘You see, the hand­
kerchief has gone and is now in this bag. I will take the watch out of
the bag invisibly and send it flying into your pocket, sir. It’s pretty
sure to arrive; it’s not going on a ‘local.’ Anyway, it has left the
paper. Isn’t that an easy way of passing away the time?”
Crumpling up the paper into a ball and taking the handkerchief
from the boy, the performer politely thanks him for the help he has
given, and cordially invites him to take a seat and make himself
at home. The performer also contrives to whisper one sentence:
“Directly my back is turned, jump up from the chair and look at the
seat.” The boy will usually obey, and the effect will be that he has had
an electric shock or sat on a pin. “Hullo,” says the conjurer, with a
concerned air, “something wrong with the chair?” Pretending to
examine it, he says to the boy quietly: “Try that again for a joke. It
went well. Sit down, and when I touch the back of the chair jump up
quickly.” Then, aloud, he says: “Do try it again; I assure you it’s an
ordinary chair. It must have been your imagination. Please sit down.
There, you see it’s quite all right. Are you comfortable?”
Here he touches the top rail of the chair back, and the boy jumps
up as prompted. Apparently with the idea of reassuring the victim
again, the conjurer sits in the chair himself and persuades the youth
to try it once more. This time nothing happens until the conjurer
advances to the front of the platform, when once more the assistant
jumps up and the chair falls over. The secret instructions have again
been faithfully carried out. The boy had simply been told in a
whisper: “Jump up quickly when I reach the front of the platform,
and kick the chair backward.”
226 OUR MAGIC
All this is a very funny interlude for a popular audience, but of
course it is not suitable for all occasions, and can be left out when
necessary. If it is included in the performance, it is concluded by the
conjurer saying:—“What a restless boy. Perhaps you had better sit
still, standing up.” Then, addressing the gentleman in whose pocket
the watch is supposed to be, the conjurer continues: —
“Now, sir, I think the watch will have arrived by this time. Will
you please look in your pockets, and pass the watch to the lady on
your left, because it is her watch.”
All the attention of the audience will now be concentrated on the
man searching his pockets, and the performer goes up to the table
and deposits the ball of paper and the handkerchief on it (6). Then,
returning, he says:— “Is it the same watch, madam? You haven’t
received it? Haven’t you found it, sir? Isn’t it in your waistcoat
pocket?” In a solemn manner he adds, “Are you serious, sir?”
After a slight pause, during which the conjurer looks suspiciously
at the boy on the stage, he remarks:—“It will make things most
uncomfortable for my committee.” Then he addresses the man
again:—
“You aren’t joking, are you, sir? Oh, you never joke. Scotchman,
perhaps. Whose watch was it? Yes, I remember; it was that lady’s.
Madam, may I ask if you see the joke? You would rather see the
watch? Quite so. But it’s most unfortunate for you, isn’t it? You
remember that I didn’t touch your watch, and of course you will
quite understand that the experiment is over, so far as I am con­
cerned. It is a matter to be settled between yourself and that gentle­
man.”
All this must be delivered as though the conjurer was receiving
answers to questions which, of course, are imaginary. Now he pre­
tends to overhear a suggestion from another part of the room, and
answers indignantly:—
“No! I don’t want to search him.” Then, to the victim, “Someone
over there suggests searching you, sir. Someone who knows you
perhaps.” Again, to the supposed speaker, with rebuke, “I think it is
extremely rude. Really, I see nothing to laugh at.” This said seriously
only adds to the general hilarity.
With a puzzled air, the conjurer turns to the boy on the stage.
“What shall we do, Mr. Chairman? Oh, you don’t know, and you
don’t care, I suppose. But something must be done. Would you mind,
sir, if I put just two fingers in one of your pockets? I am able to tell
whether the watch has ever been there.” This is said to the gentleman
THE FORGOTTEN GUEST 227
in a pleading tone, and now to the whole audience very seriously,
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my word as a conjurer that I
wouldn’t deceive you for worlds. If that gentleman will come here
for a minute you will see. Would you mind stepping here for one
moment, sir, but don’t bring that big stick!”

When the gentleman has accepted the invitation (7), the conjurer
assures him in a whisper that it is only a joke. Getting him to stand
facing the audience, the conjurer takes hold of the right lapel of the
gentleman’s coat, opens it so as to show the waistcoat pocket, which
he assures everybody is his only objective.
To show that everything is above board, he calls upon the boy as a
sort of witness. “Will you come over here, Mr. Speaker?” He places
the boy in a position behind and between himself and the person
who is being operated upon. “Now, sir, watch, and if you find me
putting anything into your pocket will you call out and tell the
228 OUR MAGIC
audience. (See Fig. 35.) Mr. President,” (this to the boy) “if you
detect me putting anything in this gentleman’s pocket except two
fingers, please say so.”
Now to the gentleman the conjurer addresses a totally unexpected
query. “Excuse my asking, but do you smoke?” Whether the answer
is in the affirmative or negative, he goes on: “I really thought you did
because you carry matches.” Here he apparently produces a box of
matches from the gentleman’s beard or moustache (8). These he

throws on one side; the by-play is over. “Now for the watch,” he
continues. The two fingers are thrust into the pocket, and the hand
is brought away half closed as though containing something (9).
“Here it is,” cries the conjurer, but when he opens his hand it is
empty. Without giving time for thought, the conjurer puts his hand
back again, and this time a good-sized live rabbit is brought from
under the man’s coat (Fig. 36). Round the rabbit’s neck is a colored
THE FORGOTTEN GUEST 229
ribbon, and hung from the ribbon is the borrowed watch (10).
Attention is called to the watch. The gentleman from whose pocket
this forgotten guest was produced is politely thanked and dismissed,
and the conjurer puts the rabbit on the smaller table and asks the
boy to identify the watch. The boy duly recognizes the watch, and
the conjurer proceeds to untie the ribbon. Pretending to overhear
the boy asking whether the rabbit is alive, he says:—“Alive? Of course
it is. It isn’t a Welsh rarebit. You never saw a Welsh rarebit with a
watch tied round its neck, did you?” Then, having untied the ribbon,
he asks the boy, “Is this the same old watch—the same watch, I
mean? Would you mind taking it back to the lady with my best
thanks?” Here the conjurer apparently tosses the watch into his left
hand and gives it to the boy, but he receives nothing. The watch has
vanished (11).

“Now, what have you done?” says the wizard. “You haven’t got
it? But I gave it to you. Ah, here it is.” (12.) The conjurer takes it
from behind the boy’s ear, and now really hands it to him to take
back to the owner.
TRICKS OR DEVICES
(See Fig. 37.)
(a) A double paper.
(b ) A pistol with a cup in the barrel.
(c) Two silks handkerchiefs, exactly alike.
PREPARATIONS
The paper with which the bag is formed is made of a stoutish kind,
and measures forty-four by thirty-five inches. It is folded once across,
and the edges are pasted together all round with the exception of
about one-third of one end, which is left open in the middle.
230 OUR MAGIC
A moderate-sized rabbit is placed in the large pocket, D (Fig. 9,
p. 195), under the performer’s left arm, with its head to the opening.
To keep this pocket closed until required, a tab of elastic with a small
metal ring attached is sewn to the front edge of the pocket. Opposite
this, through the coat itself, a hole like a button-hole is made. The
tab is pushed through this and fastened to a hook which is sewn
under the hole, outside the coat, and concealed by the lower part
of the lapel. The hook used is an ordinary large dresshook, fastened
on to the coat with the point of the hook pointing downward. A
ribbon is fastened very carefully round bunny’s neck, as loosely as is
compatible with safety, and tied in a firm bow. In the center of this
ribbon, hanging just underneath the animal’s nose, is a spring hook
such as is used for small dog chains. This must be covered with ribbon
to hide it as much as possible, the idea being that the watch should
appear to be threaded on the ribbon when it is discovered.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) Between the corner of the paper and the middle joints of
his fingers, he holds concealed the duplicate silk handkerchief. It is
neither rolled nor folded, but made into a ball with the corners
inside, so that it springs out directly he lets go of it.
(2) The handkerchief is released, and left at the bottom of the
bag. The secret opening ought now to form half of the circle de­
scribed by the mouth of the bag. The inner side of this is seized and
pressed over to the other side of the bag, and the hand is passed down
into the space between the double paper, which now appears to be
the legitimate inside of the bag.
(3) This folding-over of the top brings back the one edge of the
concealed opening to join the other again.
(4) Saying this, the conjurer lays the mouth of the pistol on his
left hand. The cup is clipped between the first and third joints of
the fingers, and when the pistol is raised again to point at the boy
the left hand is quietly lowered to pocket G (Fig. 9, p. 195), and
deposits there the cup containing the handkerchief.
(5) This is done in a series of definite movements. First the
performer grasps the top of the bag firmly with the finger and thumb
of his right hand, and takes hold of the point with the same fingers
of his left hand. Having unscrewed the lower end, he twists the folded
top toward himself until about half the bag is unrolled. Now he
transfers his left hand and seizes the center of the unfolded part. He
will find that he is holding the watch through the paper. With the
THE FORGOTTEN GUEST 231
right hand he straightens out the folded top. Having done this, the
conjurer transfers his right hand to about the middle of the longest
outer edge of the paper, and the rolled-up edge is allowed to unfurl
into the left hand, which supports the watch. (See Fig. 34.) The
handkerchief is now on the opened-out sheet of paper. The boy
takes the handkerchief, and the performer carelessly shows all sides
of the paper by holding only the edges. Incidentally he contrives to
show that his hands are empty. He then crumples up the paper into a
ball and while doing so presses the watch partly through the paper,
and keeps the parcel, with the watch and the handkerchief, in his left
hand.
(6) Just before this, while addressing the boy, the performer has
taken an opportunity of disengaging the ring from the hook and
pulling the tab through the hole in his coat. Afterward, to the end of
the experiment, he takes care to keep his left forearm over the mouth
of the pocket to prevent a disclosure of the rabbit’s nose. The watch
is attached to the hook on the rabbit’s neck at the moment the paper
and handkerchief are placed on the table. The watch must be at­
tached as quickly as possible, but without any hasty movements to
call attention to the fact that anything unusual is taking place. Most
of the audience are watching the man who is searching for the watch,
and the conjurer has his back to the rest, so that the keenest observer
can only guess what the conjurer is doing. He appears to be adjusting
the set of his waistcoat or something of that sort. After the watch is
safely attached, it is as well to take hold of the left lapel and thus
keep the opening of the pocket firmly closed because the rabbit has
now been disturbed and has seen the light, and will therefore be a
little restless.
(7) While the gentleman approaches, the conjurer coolly walks
up to the table, moves it a little nearer and thus gets possession of the
matches which he clips between the tips and lower joints of the right
hand fingers.
(8) He is holding the gentleman’s coat lapel with the hand in
which the box is concealed. He simply moves it upward and produces
the box with the same movement used for a billiard ball in Chapter
II. When he lets go of the coat with the right hand, he takes hold of it
with the left in readiness for the next movement.
(9) To do this, he approached the gentleman closely and grasped
the lapel of his own coat with the disengaged fingers of the left hand,
which now holds both coats together for the next movement.
(10) The right hand, having been shown empty, is brought back
232 OUR MAGIC
very quickly. Then it swoops down on the ears of the rabbit, and
without pausing takes it from the pocket to underneath the gentle­
man’s coat. The short journey is completely covered by the per­
former’s body, but the moment the rabbit is transferred the
performer moves away sufficiently for everyone to see the rabbit taken
from under the gentleman’s coat. The performer should pretend to
have some difficulty in getting the rabbit away from the coat. Also,
the performer should remember to let go of his own lapel the mo­
ment the rabbit is safely under the other coat, and to close the coat
over the rabbit.
(11) He is holding the watch in the bent fingers of the right hand.
He now simply clips it firmly between the upper and lower joints
of the fingers, and turns the hand over as though he were dropping
the watch into the other hand, the fingers of which apparently close
over it. Now, with the left hand he gives the boy the watch which is
not there, while he takes care to hold the right hand in such a position
that no one catches sight of the watch.
(12) When the boy has realized that he has not got the watch, the
conjurer quickly puts it behind the boy’s left ear and slowly brings it
into view. It can, of course, be equally well produced from any other
part of the boy’s anatomy or clothing. To get the right effect the
conjurer must, of course, keep the watch concealed until he has it
under cover, and his hand travels to the selected spot very quickly.
The moment the watch is covered by putting it behind the ear or
whatever other object is used, all the fingers are withdrawn from the
watch except the first finger, and with this and the thumb the watch
is very slowly and deliberately brought out again.
CHAPTER V
WITH A BORROWED HANDKERCHIEF. A LESSON IN
MAGIC
we are about to describe includes, perhaps,
he combination

the best effects with a borrowed handkerchief that have yet

been invented; and it will be an excellent 1exercise for our
readers to refer to the books of Hoffmann and Sachs, and themselves
peruse the instructions there given for experiments of the comedy
class with borrowed handkerchiefs. Having done this, the student
will have before him all the information which the author of this
combination has made use of. He arranged the series for the special
purpose of complying with his wife’s expressed wish that he should
do one of those “funny tricks in which handkerchiefs are burnt up
and restored’’ at a children’s party which was about to be given.
So great was the success of this series of effects that we thought it
worthy of place in this book, first as an example of the class of con­
juring discussed in the last chapter, and second as a specimen of the
work that can be done with old material without slavishly copying
other performers.
Only ordinary, everyday articles are used. A borrowed handker­
chief is the principal object of attention. The performer also uses
his own handkerchief (a dark red silk one), a pint claret bottle
containing enough wine to fill a small tumbler, a sheet of newspaper,
two dinner plates, a lighted candle in a candlestick, a pair of scissors,
a table knife, and a lemon which is magically produced in the course
of the experiment.
The plot is arranged in this way.2 The conjurer invites a boy to
have a lesson in magic, and he also borrows a white handkerchief
of moderate size. The boy is asked to bring the handkerchief to the
platform. The conjurer receives it, and in doing so incidentally shows
that he has nothing concealed in his hands. The boy is asked to stand
on the conjurer’s left, and is told that he will be taught how to turn a
handkerchief into a lemon.
1 The specific page references to Sachs’ S l e i g h t - o f - H a n d , which are given in the present

work, relate to the f o u r t h edition of Mr. Sachs’ book, published by the Fleming Book
Company in 1946. The third edition, which was cited by Mr. Devant, has been out of
print for many years. P.F.
2 Alexander Herrmann, Frederick Eugene Powell, Karl Germain, and other famous

magicians long presented their own versions of this classic feat, to the amazement
and delight of their audiences. P.F.

[233]
234 OUR MAGIC
The lesson is begun by the wizard rolling up the handkerchief
into a ball, and showing the boy how to knead it between his hands
in a certain way. The boy, being assured that this will have the
desired result, is about to begin, but the conjurer pauses to ask
permission of the owner of the handkerchief, and promises that if
any damage is done to the spectator’s property, his (the conjurer’s)
handkerchief shall be treated in the same way.
Having exhibited his own handkerchief, the conjurer asks the boy
to continue the kneading process with the borrowed handkerchief,
and the surprises then follow each other in quick succession. We
describe them briefly in tabular form.
1. The borrowed handkerchief becomes a number of pieces of
thin cambric.
2. These pieces, being rubbed between the hands of the boy
assistant, become a very long strip of cambric.
3. This strip is gathered up into one hand by the conjurer, and
suddenly becomes transformed into a real lemon.
4. The lemon is put on a plate. A spell is said over it. The lemon
is cut open and found to contain the handkerchief, now restored to its
proper appearance.
5. The boy is shown how to cut a piece out of the center of a
handkerchief, and mend it by the heat of a candle flame.
6. The boy tries it, and the result is the burning of the handker­
chief—apparently by accident.
7. The performer, having promised to submit his own handker­
chief to any process which damages the borrowed one, allows the
boy to try his ’prentice hand on his, with the same result.
8. Both handkerchiefs are now blazing away on plates. The con­
jurer extinguishes the flames by emptying the contents of one plate
into the other, and putting the empty plate on the top of the burning
material. Then he empties the smoldering ashes into half a sheet of
newspaper, and offers the parcel to the spectator who lent the hand­
kerchief. The offer having been refused, the conjurer says a few
words of magical import, tears open the package, and discloses the
handkerchiefs, both apparently completely restored. When the hand­
kerchiefs are shaken out, the colored one is seen to have a white
center and the white one a colored center.
9. The conjurer throws the disfigured handkerchiefs to the boy
in disgust, apologizes to the owner of the handkerchief, and asks
him to have a glass of wine with him, just to show there is no ill
feeling. With this, the conjurer pours out into tumblers some wine
A LESSON IN MAGIC 235
from the bottle, which has been in view of the audience throughout
the experiment. The gentleman having tasted the wine, and pledges
having been exchanged, the conjurer asks him to see if there is any
left in the bottle, and also to recork it. Meanwhile he gives his empty
glass to the boy, and instructs him to wrap the white handkerchief
in the red one and put both together in the tumbler. Then, returning
to the gentleman, who has had ample opportunity to examine the
bottle, he asks him to inform the company how much wine there is
left. “About half a tumblerful,” replies the gentleman. The per­
former takes the bottle and places it on the table. Picking up the
half-sheet of newspaper, he covers the glass containing the handker­
chief with it. The boy is asked to grasp the tumbler with his left
hand, and to hold the paper cover with his right.
10. Taking the tumbler from the boy’s hand, the conjurer whisks
away the newspaper and shows that the tumbler now contains the
claret. And then after tapping the bottle all over with a hammer, to
prove indirectly that it is a whole bottle, he finally smashes it and
instead of the wine the two handkerchiefs are disclosed. They are now
completely restored.
There is so much meat in the meal, the menu of which we have
mapped out above, that we believe it will aid the digestion of our
hungry student if we leave out all sauces and decorations in the way
of patter and artifices of serving, and content ourselves with showing
him exactly how to prepare the dishes.
TRICKS OR DEVICES
The first thing to do is to make a list of the appliances required.
The student is advised to provide everything used, and to keep all the
things for this experiment only. Here is the list.
(a) A lemon prepared with a dummy handkerchief, as described
In Sachs’ Sleight-of-Hand 4th ed., p. 198, or Professor Hoffmann’s
Modern Magic, p. 246.
(b) Two handkerchiefs—a claret colored silk one and a white
one—prepared with the wrong centers. (See Sleight-of-Hand, p. 202.)
(c ) Two whole silk handkerchiefs of the same color as the pre­
pared one.
(d) A bundle of pieces of linen or cambric. There should be about
ten pieces, each about three to eight inches square. (They can be
made from worn dress-ties, pulled out and cut up.)
(e ) A strip of cambric about four yards long. (This can be made
by joining old dress-ties.)
236 OUR MAGIC
(f) A separate piece of white linen about three inches square.
(g) A couple of sheets of paper. A double sheet of newspaper
which can be torn will do; but one side is really two sheets pasted
together round the edges.
(h) Two pint claret bottles of dark color, one containing a
tumblerful of claret.
(i) Three small tumblers, one of which is half full of claret and
covered with a cap, in jam-pot fashion, made of two or three thick­
nesses of the paper used for the sheets and secured by a rubber-band
attached to the cap.
(j) A piece of string about forty-five inches long, with a small lead
weight attached to one end, and an ordinary split key-ring (about
1 1/2 inches in diameter) neatly tied to the other end.
(k) Another ring sewn to the middle of the waistcoat that is worn,
or (if the vest is split up the back as advised) to the center of the
suspenders.
(l) Two plates.
(m) A knife to cut the lemon.
(n) A pair of scissors to cut the handkerchief.
(o) A candle in a candlestick, and a box of matches.
PREPARATIONS
The prepared lemon, containing the white handkerchief, is in
pocket E (Fig. 9, p. 195). The two handkerchiefs with wrong centers
are laid flat in the center of the pocket formed by the double sheet of
newspaper. This sheet, the bottle of claret, the two tumblers, the two
plates, the matches, candle, and scissors are all on the table at the
commencement of the performance.
Behind the scenes is an assistant who has charge of the second
claret bottle into which has been pushed, with a pencil, one of the
claret-colored handkerchiefs. He is also provided with the table knife,
and the separate piece of cambric folded as described. Behind the
table, and close to it, must be a curtain with a slit in it large enough
to admit of the passage of the bottle. The back edge of the table
should cross the center of this horizontal opening, which is concealed
by a natural-looking fold in the curtain.
The prepared tumbler is carried in pocket G (Fig. 9, p. 195), and
the long strip of cambric is rolled lightly round the hand, slipped
off, and the loose end is tucked into the center. The oval bundle thus
formed is carefully placed under the left side of the vest, in such a
way that there is no danger of it slipping down prematurely and
A LESSON IN MAGIC 237
showing a white piece against the black clothes.
The second silk handkerchief is put loosely into pocket D3 (Fig. 9,
p. 195); and on top of this handkerchief is placed the bundle of pieces
of cambric, which is prepared by wrapping the pieces loosely in one
piece that has been made large enough for the purpose. The four
corners of this square are brought forward over the rest of the scraps,
and secured by a small piece of white tissue-paper or stamp-edging,
so gummed on that the slightest pressure will break it.
One point of the split key-ring is opened, and the inside edge of
the right-hand shirt-cuff is inserted in the opening. The ring is then
twisted so that it holds firmly on to the cuff. The weight on the
other end of the string is then passed through the ring at the back of
the waistcoat or suspenders, and thence to pocket E (Fig. 9, p. 195),
where it is laid underneath the lemon.
INSTRUCTIONS
Having borrowed the handkerchief, the conjurer (standing on the
right of the boy) folds up the handkerchief into a small bundle by
putting the corners in the center and then repeating the operation,
if necessary, two or three times, until the handkerchief is in a small
bundle. Without allowing the handkerchief to spring out, the con­
jurer places it on his left hand and then puts his right hand over it.
He rubs the handkerchief between his hands with a circular motion,
and also changes the position of his hands by turning first the left
and then the right uppermost. He tells the boy to imitate these move­
ments, and while the boy is thus employed the conjurer addresses
the lender of the handkerchief and tells him that if any damage
is done to the handkerchief he (the conjurer) will gladly submit his
own handkerchief to a similar experiment.
So saying, the conjurer puts his right hand into pocket D, in
order to get at his handkerchief. It is quite natural that he should
want to show the handkerchief of which he has just spoken. In taking
out his handkerchief, he secretly takes out the bundle of pieces as
well. The rolled-up handkerchief is still in the conjurer’s left hand,
being held there between all his fingers (placed close together) and
3 Unfortunately, through what appears to be the omission of one line of type, the
original text does not indicate which pocket is used for holding the second silk hander-
chief and the bundle of pieces of cambric. However, the pocket employed must be
readily accessible to the right hand, and we learn later that it is a left pocket. For these
and other reasons, it seems probable that pocket D was the one used by Mr. Devant
for this purpose. In any event, there is certainly not the slightest reason why this
pocket should not be so used. P.F.
238 OUR MAGIC
the thumb on the top of the handkerchief. About half the bundle is
seen above the tips of the fingers, and the back of the hand is toward
the audience.

Having taken out his own handkerchief and (unknown to the

audience) the little bundle of pieces, the conjurer brings his right
hand up to his left, grips one corner between the first and second
fingers of his left hand, and takes hold of the opposite corner with his
A LESSON IN MAGIC 239
right hand, in which he is, of course, concealing the bundle of
pieces. (See Fig. 38.) Then, still addressing the owner of the handker­
chief, the conjurer takes it in the right hand which releases its hold
of the corner of the conjurer’s handkerchief. In taking the handker­
chief in the right hand, the conjurer places the bundle over it, but
the top of the rolled-up handkerchief is a little way behind the top of

the bundle. (See Fig. 39.) The owner of the handkerchief believes
that he is looking at his property. The back of the conjurer’s hand is
toward the audience.
Now the conjurer can show the inside of his right hand by turning
the hand over toward the audience, holding it well down and mask­
ing there the two bundles joined with his thumb. (See Fig. 40.)
Then, bringing his right hand over to his left, he grasps the bundle
and the handkerchief together with the fingers of his left hand; but
it will be seen that it is the bundle that projects beyond the fingers,
and the handkerchief is now in the palm. The back of the hand is
still toward the audience. (See Fig. 41.) In the act of taking away his
own handkerchief with his right hand, the conjurer places his hand
underneath it (Fig. 42), and, gathering it up, grasps the borrowed
handkerchief concealed in its folds. (See Fig. 43.)
The conjurer then replaces his handkerchief in his pocket. The
audience believe that they still see the borrowed handkerchief in his
left hand, but that handkerchief, of course, is now safely in the
240 OUR MAGIC
conjurer’s pocket. (Directly the conjurer put his handkerchief—and
secretly, the borrowed handkerchief—in his pocket, he quickly got
the latter free from the former, so that when he next wanted to take
out his handkerchief it was ready near the mouth of the pocket.)
The boy is instructed to roll what appears to be the handkerchief
between his hands, and the conjurer pretends to be properly horri­
fied when the pieces become loose and are scattered on the floor. (See
Fig. 44.)

The performer (with his left hand) now secretly takes out the long
slip of cambric from under his waistcoat when, turning to the left,
he stoops down to pick up the pieces of cambric from the floor. When
he has taken the first piece he puts it in his left hand, placing it over
the bundle. He continues to pick up the pieces, and when he has got
them all in his left hand he apparently squeezes them tightly together
and hands them to the boy with the request to try again. Before doing
this, however, the conjurer secretly takes off the pieces with his right
hand (Fig. 45) and, reaching to his pocket, deposits them there, and
takes out his own handkerchief.
“Now, then,” says the conjurer, “let us try again.”
He hands the boy the bundle (consisting now of the long strip
only), and proceeds to illustrate with his own handkerchief how the
boy should rub it between his hands. The boy rubs what he and the
audience believe to be the pieces between his hands and, of course,
when he is asked to see how he is getting on with his lesson the long
strip of cambric is disclosed. But before asking him the question, the
A LESSON IN MAGIC 241
conjurer places the colored handkerchief in his left sleeve, and under
cover of doing so disengages the key ring which is on his right-hand
cuff and puts it between the first and second fingers of his right hand.
Getting hold of one end of the long strip with his left hand, he
places it just within the ring (Fig. 46), holds it there with his thumb,
and proceeds to gather in the rest of the strip in equal folds. Having

done this, the conjurer pushes all the ends he is holding through
the ring, and runs the ring along to the center of the hanging strip,
folded together (Fig. 47). Turning to the left he shows it to the boy
and, under cover of the movement and suitable patter, secures the
lemon from pocket E (Fig. 9, p. 195) with his left hand. Bringing the
hands together in a natural sort of way, he hides the lemon under the
bunch of cambric in his right hand. (See Fig. 48.)
The performer points out to the boy that his attempt to turn a
handkerchief into a lemon has failed, and informs him that he will
try and do it with one hand. Accordingly, he puts his left hand under
his coat behind him, and thus is able to get hold of the other end of
the string which is attached to the weight lying at the bottom of
pocket. Now the conjurer waves his right hand up and down a little,
until he has pulled the string with his left hand enough to draw the
key-ring and folded strip just past the edge of his cuff. Finally the
conjurer gives a sharp tug on the string, which carries the rest of the
bunch up his sleeve and leaves the lemon disclosed. With a quick
turn of the hand, the conjurer displays it to the audience. The con-
242 OUR MAGIC
jurer puts the lemon on a plate and gives the plate to the boy to hold.
He dictates to the boy a burlesque spell, which the boy tries to repeat.

While he is reciting this incantation, the conjurer calls for a knife

and goes to the side of the platform to get it.
While receiving the knife from a hidden assistant, there are two
A LESSON IN MAGIC 243
things to do secretly. The conjurer has to take the borrowed handker­
chief from his pocket and hand it to the assistant, and he also has
to receive from the assistant a small piece of cambric, about four
inches square. This is folded by taking hold of the center and pulling
the corners down; and in this condition it is laid along the handle of
the knife with the center toward the blade. The conjurer takes hold
of the handle of the knife in the usual way, carrying the piece with
him ready for the next phase of the experiment.

With the knife the conjurer cuts open the lemon, and invites the
boy to pull out the handkerchief, which the audience will believe to
be the borrowed one restored. The boy is asked to return it to the
lender, but just as he is going toward the audience to do so the con­
jurer pretends to remember that, after all, the boy has not profited
by the “lesson in magic,” and asks him if he will try again.
“This time,” says the conjurer, “we shall attempt only a very
simple piece of magic. I shall show you how to cut a hole in a hand­
kerchief and mend it again.”
The conjurer is still holding the knife in the right hand, and
between the handle of the knife and his four fingers lies the folded
piece of cambric. Having spread out the handkerchief (and, while
doing so, transferred the knife but not the miniature handkerchief to
his left hand), he holds up the index finger of the closed right hand
and tells the boy that one of the most important preliminaries is to
244 OUR MAGIC
find the exact center of the handkerchief. Saying this, the conjurer
throws the handkerchief over the right hand and, as it hangs from
the tip of the upright finger, arranges it so that all the corners are
level.
By these means the exact center of the handkerchief is found, and
the conjurer now nips the center with the finger and thumb of the
left hand (Fig. 49), withdraws the right hand from beneath it, and

immediately places the fingers concealing the piece around the upper
part of the hanging handkerchief so that the center point of the
folded cambric and the center point of the handkerchief come to­
gether. The fingers and thumb of the left hand now nip both together,
and the right hand is drawn down a couple of inches. (See Fig. 50.)
Now the handkerchief and piece are left in the right hand, and the
conjurer picks up the scissors from the table. But while he does this,
his right thumb slyly pulls down the point of the handkerchief from
behind the point of the piece. Directly it is gathered in behind the
thumb, the hand can be turned any way and the false piece seems to
be part of the real handkerchief.
Handing the scissors to the boy, the conjurer takes hold of the
A LESSON IN MAGIC 245
supposed point of the handkerchief with the left hand (Fig. 51), and
asks the boy to cut across the material between his two hands, thus
apparently cutting a hole in the middle of the handkerchief itself.
This having been done, the mending process is begun. The cut edges
are brought together in the flame of a candle. When they are well
alight they are rubbed together, which not only extinguishes the
flame but appears to restore the handkerchief, which is shaken out
whole. When rubbing the burnt edges together, the conjurer has to

screw them up and finger palm the small parcel while he opens the
handkerchief.
Once again the same movements are gone through, but no dummy
piece is required. When the cutting has been done, the handkerchief
is opened out for a moment to show the hole (this time it is really
there) before the restoration is attempted by the boy. Directly the
boy has set a light to the edges, they flare up because the handker­
chief that was put in the lemon was prepared with a little alcohol to
make it burn easily. The boy is told to drop it, and the conjurer
must see that one of the plates is handy to receive it. While the con­
jurer is making vain attempts to put out the blaze with his fingers,
he also drops the little bundle of burnt pieces which have remained
finger palmed the whole time.
With a regretful air, the performer now takes out his own hand­
kerchief and, according to promise, submits it to exactly the same
process with precisely the same result. The burning handkerchiefs
246 OUR MAGIC
are extinguished by putting the plates together as described. Then
the conjurer remarks that the least he can do is to make a present
of the remains of both handkerchiefs to the lender of the white one.
Thereupon he tears off half a sheet of newspaper (which is the pre­
pared one), empties the burnt pieces into it and screws it up into a
round bundle. This, of course, is refused by the lender of the hand­
kerchief, and the conjurer pretends to be in a dilemma. Eventually he
remembers a spell for the occasion and says it, and, breaking the
paper, pulls out the handkerchiefs with the wrong centers.
Throughout the experiment the conjurer has been talking, and
every movement has been naturally led up to by words. By this time,
he will have found out the importance of arranging every detail
of the “patter” in such a way that the spoken word coincides with the
action it describes.
If the talking has been well and properly done, roars of laughter
will greet the appearance of the “Sun and Moon”—as the centers
wrongly restored are called by conjurers—and the performer becomes
more and more confused and, to smooth matters over, proposes a
glass of wine. He gives the handkerchiefs to the boy, who is now asked
to sit in a chair well forward on the platform and on the conjurer’s
left. Remarking that fortunately he can offer the owner of the muti­
lated handkerchief a glass of excellent claret—or it may be port—the
performer uncorks the bottle and takes it forward with a couple of
tumblers, into which he empties about half the contents of the
bottle. (Therefore about a quarter of each tumbler is filled.) Pledging
the gentleman’s health and promising never to repeat the offense,
the conjurer proceeds to drink the wine and thus empty his tumbler,
ready for the next part of the feat. This provides against the event of
the gentleman not caring to imbibe his portion; whether he drinks
or not, the tumbler which he holds is allowed to remain with him
until after the experiment is finished.
The conjurer now appears to have suddenly thought of a new idea,
and he informs the audience that he will try once more to bring the
lesson in magic to a more desirable conclusion.
Handing the gentleman the bottle, he asks him to see how much
wine there is in it. “If there is about half a tumbler full,” says the
conjurer, “we can be assured of success.” Leaving the bottle where it
is, the conjurer gives the empty tumbler to the boy and instructs him
to roll the white handkerchief inside the red one, and put both in the
tumbler. Going back to the gentleman—who has probably been
holding the bottle up to the light, to judge the quantity of its
A LESSON IN MAGIC 247
contents—and pretending to be most anxious as to the amount of
wine left in the bottle, the conjurer finally takes it back to the stage
and places it on the table. Then, picking up the remaining sheet of
newspaper from the same table, he holds it out in front of him as
though determining its suitability for the purpose he had in mind.
The conjurer stands in front of the table, and his body and the
spread-out sheet of newspaper effectually hide the bottle for a few
seconds. If the audience could see through these opaque substances,
they would see a hand come through a carefully made slit in the
curtain hanging immediately behind the table. The hand grasps the
bottle and takes it through the slit, and then again appears with a
duplicate bottle which is put in the same place. This duplicate bottle
contains two handkerchiefs, one of them being the genuine borrowed
one. The conjurer walks over to the boy and presses the sheet of paper
over the tumbler which contains the handkerchief, which the boy is
left to hold.
The magician proceeds to perform some mystic passes between the
bottle and the boy, using the knife as a magic wand. Then, handing
the knife to the boy, he asks him if he sees anything peculiar about
it, such as a green light reflected in the blade.
In order to take the knife, the boy, who has been told to hold the
tumbler carefully with one hand and the paper on the top of it with
the other, will probably take his hand from the paper.
“Never mind,” says the conjurer, “let us see whether anything has
happened.” Grasping the tumbler by the rim through the paper, he
takes it away from the boy and putting his left hand underneath the
paper takes hold of the glass. Then, uncovering the glass by taking
away the paper with the right hand he shows it to be now half full of
wine. The handkerchiefs have vanished!
This surprising transformation is brought about by the following
simple means. When the conjurer handed the knife to the boy, he
turned his left side away from the spectators and his left hand
dropped down to the pocket G (Fig. 9, p. 195), and caught hold of the
prepared tumbler. When the right hand brought the tumbler and the
newspaper near enough, the left hand quickly carried the covered
tumbler of wine under the newspaper, which had purposely been
left spread out for this purpose. When the right hand uncovered the
glass of wine by taking the paper away, it also took the tumbler
containing the handkerchiefs and the cover from the duplicate glass.
To do this, the conjurer (using his right hand) must grasp the rim
of the “handkerchief” tumbler through the paper in such a way that
248 OUR MAGIC
his first finger and thumb are left free to nip the cover on the “wine”
glass and pull it away. This also has to be managed through the
paper. The moment the glass of wine is exposed to view, the con­
jurer hands it to the boy for examination, and carelessly crumples
up the paper in which the other tumbler (containing the handker­
chiefs) and the top of the “wine” tumbler remain hidden. The
crumpled up bundle of paper should be laid aside with apparent
carelessness; and if the performer pays no more attention to it than
he would give to an ordinary piece of newspaper that he had thrown
away, no audience is likely to show any desire to investigate it. At
the first performance of this deception the bundle of paper evidently
seemed quite ordinary, for the servant who cleared up the room
threw it into the dustbin without opening it, and the glass and hand­
kerchiefs were never recovered.
The two handkerchiefs are now discovered in the bottle in place
of the wine. The performer lifts the bottle by the neck, and before
smashing it taps it in several places with the hammer. This convinces
everyone that it is a genuine glass bottle. It is well to break it over
the plates, and to ask the boy to take the borrowed handkerchief back
to the owner. The conjurer places his own in his sleeve or pocket and
4
makes his bow.
4 In Later Magic (p. 311), Professor Hoffmann mentions that “the military plan of
carrying the handkerchief in this way has now become so common, even among
civilians, that it excites no remark.” He is referring, of course, to an English custom,
which (so far as we know) was never adopted in the United States. P.F.
CHAPTER VI
WITH BELLS. HOMING BELLS
n this and the following two chapters, we shall give examples of
effects of the spectacular order of conjuring feats, which may
be given in dumb show. They will, however, be suitable only
for the stage or platform, but we believe they will be interesting be­
cause of the principles involved.

Bells, the “oldest form of advertisement,” have not been much

favored by conjurers, probably because of the noise that can be made
with them. In professional parlance, they “talk” too much. This very
quality is turned to advantage in the experiment we are about to
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250 OUR MAGIC
describe, and it forms the puzzling part of the feat from the onlookers’
point of view.
Four sleigh-bells are hanging on ribbons in the center of the stage,
as seen in Fig. 52. The performer goes behind the ribbons, bunches
the bells together, and rattles them. (1.) He then detaches them (2),
and carries them to the table seen on the left1 of the picture. He lays
three bells on the table, and retains one in his right hand (3) which he
shakes violently, so that the bell makes a good deal of noise. Then he
suddenly throws the ringing bell toward the ribbons and—ping!—it
becomes attached and pendant to the ribbon (4), the color of which
has been previously announced. He proceeds in the same way with
the other three bells (5) and they all appear to fly—still singing, as it
were—from the magician’s hand to the points of the hanging strips of
silk.
Mr. Oswald Williams, having obtained permission to copy this
effect—a rare courtesy among professional conjurers, we are sorry to
say—elaborated the feat considerably by having a number of bells of
different tones, and picking them up and throwing them at the
ribbons so quickly that they rang out a tune. Each bell sounded a
note of the first few bars of “Home, Sweet Home,” as it reached the
ribbons. This was a very pretty addition, especially for a “dumb”
show.
For the benefit of those who prefer speech, we may as well include
the “patter,” as given. There is very little of it, because as we have
said, the whole effect is meant to be a sort of hors-d’oeuvre to one’s
program of other dishes. Here, then, are the words: —
“My next experiment is with bells. Bells are very difficult to con­
jure with, because one has to deceive the ear as well as the eye. It
would be much easier if one used dumb-bells; but then, of course,
it would not be the same experiment.”
By this time, the bells are gathered from the ribbons, and are being
placed on the table.
“Each of these bells has a different tone, and I can easily tell to
which colored ribbon it belongs. For instance, this one belongs to
the pink-un; it has quite a different tone from any other pap—ribbon.
Now please watch this tinkling bell. You can see it and hear it
wherever it goes. (Here it is thrown at the ribbon.) I thought it
belonged to the pink. You see, these magic bells are trained like
1 The original text reads “right,” but a close examination of the explanation that
follows shows that this must be a misprint. The table in question is the one to the
reader’s left in Fig. 52. P.F.
HOMING BELLS 251
homing pigeons. Will someone choose a color? Red? Very well.
(Picks up a bell, rattles it, and throws it.) I rather like this myself.
Now there are two left, blue and yellow. Which shall I dispatch
first? The blue bell. Good. There it goes (picking up the last). You
know I think this is quite charming—to see pretty bells getting so
quickly attached to smart beaus (bows).” (The remaining bell is
thrown.)
Two attendants now enter and detach the ribbons from the scenery
or walls, that is, one of them detaches the ends of the ribbons while
the other holds one hand on each side of the four bows to which
the bells are hanging (6). Of course, something much simpler than
these ribbons could be devised for a drawing-room performance. For
instance, a man might hold a strip of wood, round which the small
bows of ribbon were tied. But we are describing items from a
repertoire exactly as they exist, and in this case the ribbons are in­
tended to give a touch of color and prettiness to the feat. As the
objects are quite small, it becomes advisable to fill up the picture if it
is intended for stage purposes.
In the days of Houdin and Anderson the stage was crowded with
pretty things—or things which were considered pretty by early Vic­
torians. Although Houdin, in particular, discarded tables draped to
the floor, he did not despise a long shelf at the back of the room
represented by the scene. On this shelf stood all kinds of ornamental
paraphernalia which was not used in his seances. But it served its
purpose; it pleased the eye. Present day conjurers would be well
advised to study the tout ensemble more than they appear to do at
present; and although they need not crowd the stage with useless
apparatus, they can fill it with tastefully selected furniture and
colored fabrics, to give something for the eye to enjoy. They can have
well-arranged music to please the ear, and plenty of movement to
satisfy the taste of most audiences, who like much to look at while
they are listening.
Any attendants or assistants employed must play their parts as well
as the magician plays his own. They must be thoroughly rehearsed in
each movement that they have to make, and do what they are set to
do with precision and smartness. Nothing must be left to chance in
a magical performance. Everything conducive to enhancing the
mystery of the illusions must be arranged with painstaking care and
thought. This is one of the great secrets of all successful performers,
and it is also the reason why an illusion with many people taking some
part in it is a more difficult undertaking than a feat of magic that
252 OUR MAGIC
depends upon the performer alone. The complicated illusion de­
mands much more knowledge of the business than the simpler feat.
In the latter, the performer can trust himself to carry out what he has
arranged, but when assistants are required both his anxiety during
the representation and his work of prearrangement are enormously
increased.
TRICKS OR DEVICES
(a) In Fig. 52 is seen a set of five tables.2 These are
The Tables.
painted in imitation of the Sheraton style. The square table on the
left of the picture is especially prepared for this experiment. If the
reader will turn to p. 85 of Later Magic, he will find a description of a
most ingenious table which has a top covered with black velvet.
There are holes (or “wells”) in the top, the edges of which are con­
cealed by an embroidered pattern. The same idea, slightly modified,
is applied to our table. Instead of the whole top being covered with
velvet, it is painted and French polished to match the rest of the
table, but a square velvet mat lies upon it. This is prepared in the
following way. A square of wood having been neatly sawed out of the
table-top with a fret saw, and laid aside for use when the mat is not
required, four slips of wood are fastened underneath the edges of the
square hole, and a square piece of deal is cut to fit in and lie on these
slips.
Four holes, each large enough for one of the bells to drop through
quite easily, are now cut in the square of deal. Four tubular bags of
black velvet are then required. They must be glued on to the edges of
the holes, flush with the surface, and must be of such length that
when the square of wood is in position the bottoms of the bags do not
quite reach the bottom of the box which forms the table-top. The
lower ends of these bags are closed by stitching them. Now a square
velvet mat is made, an inch larger all round than the square of wood.
This is embroidered, in yellow or gilt braid, with a suitable geometri­
cal pattern which must be so arranged that four circles in the pattern
coincide with the four holes in the wooden base. Lastly, the velvet
within the circles is cut away and the mat is glued on to the square
of wood. The table-top is eighteen inches square, and the table is
two feet, eight inches in height.
(b) The Bells. There are nine bells of the familiar sleigh-bell
2 We have omitted from this drawing the five tables mentioned here by the author
(though they appeared in the photographic halftone in the original edition), because
they play no part in the feat that is being explained. P. F.
HOMING BELLS 253
pattern, round in shape, with a loose metal ball inside the hollow
sphere. For our purpose, the ball must be extracted from each of
four of the bells. Four more of the bells are used just as they are.
The ninth bell is prepared in such a way that it will ring or not
ring, as required. It is managed thus. Cut off the top of the bell, leav­
ing a hole about half an inch in diameter. Take out the bullet, and
attach a small wire ring to it. Then take a piece of stiff wire (about
one and a half inches long) and bend one end into a ring, but before
closing it insert the ring attached to the metal ball. The other end
of the wire is to end in a small knob of brass. Starting from under
this small knob, coil a piece of brass spring wire around the upright.
The lower end of the spiral spring must be attached inside one end of
a small brass tube, about three-quarters of an inch long, and that end
of the tube is then soldered over the hole in the bell. The result
should be that the bullet is pulled up to the lower end of the tube by
the tension of the spring, but a pressure of the performer’s fingertip
on the projecting wire will force the ball down into the bell, where
it has play enough to swing and strike the sides of the bell. When
the pressure is released, the spring pulls the ball up to the mouth of
the tube inside the bell, and it is at once silent. The bells are about
one and a half inches in diameter.
(c) The Ribbons. The ribbons are not so innocent as they appear
to be. Apparently two lengths of ribbon of different colors, and 1 1/2
inches wide, are stretched across the stage, crossing each other
diagonally. Four differently colored ribbons about one inch wide
are apparently tied around these two in the center. Each one is
finished with a rosette or bow, from which hangs one straight loop
of the ribbon, about five inches long, and from the end of each loop
hangs a bell. The shorter ribbons draw the longer ones together for
eighteen inches of their length, and behind them is concealed a lath
of hardwood, 1 1/4 inches wide. The longer ribbons are tacked to the
front of this lath; and over them the shorter ribbons are tacked to the
upper edge of the lath by one end. The loose ribbon is then formed
into a bow which is stitched on a cardboard foundation. These bows
with the covered lath above must be large enough to hide completely
the bells (which are hung behind them), and enough is allowed to
hang down from the middle of the bow and doubled so that the
5-inch loop is formed by tacking the end to the lower edge of the
board behind the rosette. Before finally fastening it, however, two
little wire collars are threaded upon them, and to one of these links
254 OUR MAGIC
is fastened the bell that is to be hidden, and to the other the bell
which is seen at the commencement of the trick.
In the diagram (Fig. 53), showing a portion of part of the board,
the shape of the collar 3can be seen, and also the means used to
suspend the hidden bell. It will be noticed that the S hook is re­
placed by an oval wire ring, and to this again is fastened a thin wire
with a ring bent in it at each end. One of these rings is put between
two small wire staples which are hammered into the board, and a wire

hook passes through all three; namely, the two staples and the
loop of wire which carries the bell. The other end of the wire hook is
formed into a loop through which a wood-screw fastens it to the
board sufficiently tight to prevent it moving unless pulled or pushed.
There is also another loop formed in the middle of this wire hook,
and a thin cord attached to it. The cord is guided along the board by
3 The photographic illustration in the original edition did not show at all clearly
the details referred to in this printed description. We have attempted, in our drawing,
to present what seems to us to be essentially the method used to hold the hidden bell in
place, and then release it at the proper moment. If Fig. 53 should not make this
matter clear, it is in any event no less illuminating than the original illustration, which
was so indistinct that few of the items cited in the text were discernible. P.F.
HOMING BELLS 255
wire staples (the first of which acts as a stop to which to pull the hook
back), and along the back of one of the stretched ribbons, by silk
loops, and finally through eyes soldered on to a metal plate fixed on
to the end of the ribbon.
The cord terminates in a button which is colored to match the
color of the ribbon on which the bell will appear, when that particu­
lar line is pulled by an assistant at the side. It will be obvious that,
when the hooks are pulled back by the lines, the bells drop instantly
by their own weight and the collars slide with them down the farther
side of the ribbon loops. Each one comes to rest at the bottom of the
loop and behind the collar that is already there. In this way the bells
appear to attach themselves instantly to the very loops from which the
audience saw the other bells unhooked.
PREPARATIONS
The four ordinary bells are arranged behind the board as des­
cribed, and the four silent bells (which must be provided with
ordinary S hooks) are hung on the collars on the shorter ribbons. The
trick bell is finger palmed in the right hand. The end of each of the
long ribbons is sewn round a piece of tube, with collars to prevent
its slipping off. These tubes act as reels, upon which the ribbons can
be wound when not in use. They are also made to fit to upright
spindles fixed on metal plates, which can be in turn fixed in suitable
positions—for instance, behind two wings. In setting, the ribbons can
be kept taut by putting two of these tubes on the spindles on one
side, and only unwinding the ribbons from the other two sufficiently
to slip them on to the opposite spindles by stretching the ribbons.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) The performer goes behind the bells, gathers the four short
ribbons together, and shakes them. This shakes and rings the con­
cealed bells, and those that are in view clang together.
(2) The conjurer unhooks the bells with the left hand and holds
the dangling ribbons with the right hand, which holds the trick bell.
The first three bells are transferred to the right hand as soon as they
are detached, and the shaking of the ribbons is continued to keep
the concealed bells ringing, but it is diminished in vigor as each bell
is detached, and stopped altogether as the last bell is taken away.
(3) The right and left hands are brought together, and the bells are
allowed to clang together as they are carried to the table. As they
256 OUR MAGIC
are laid on the table, one of them is allowed to drop into one of the
wells, and the other three are deftly placed so that each is in front of
one of the empty wells. There must be no appearance of placing
them, however. Apparently, the performer must be simply separating
them. The trick bell is now brought into view, and is rung by hold­
ing the small tube by the thumb and the second finger of the right
hand while the first finger presses the knob downward.
(4) With the action of throwing the bell toward the ribbons, the
forefinger is upraised and the second and third fingers are simultane­
ously curled round the bell. Then the first finger is hooked round the
wire plunger, and the thumb releases its hold and is stretched out­
ward. In short, the bell is transferred from the position needful for
the ringing to the finger palm, and the movements are all very nat­
urally covered by the throwing action. Some exclamation such as
“Go!” is given at the instant that the bell would leave the hand if it
were really being thrown, and this word is a cue to the assistant to
pull the line in connection with the colored ribbon announced by
the conjurer, and thus release the hidden duplicate.
(5) The conjurer now reaches to the table, which should stand
near him, and apparently picks up one of the remaining bells. In
reality, he merely pushes it into the velvet well under cover of his
hand, and then immediately brings the finger-palmed trick bell into
view and repeats the process described above. The same ruse gets
rid of the other two bells, but when the trick bell is finger palmed
for the last time, in the act of apparently throwing it at the ribbons,
it is dropped from the right hand to the left under cover of the body,
and the left hand quietly lets it fall into pocket E (Fig. g, 195), and
thus disposes of it altogether.
(6) The attendant who takes hold of the ribbons at each side of
the four hanging bells is careful not to expose the board, and as soon
as the other assistant has detached the longer ribbons he allows the
board to hang down from one hand, gathers the loose ribbons toward
it, and carries off all in a bunch together.
CHAPTER VII
WITH FLAGS. THE NATIONAL COLORS
ur last chapter gave an opening effect with bells, objects
which, like umbrellas, are very little used by conjurers. We
do not mean to say that conjurers never use umbrellas for
protection in wet weather, but that they seldom exercise their magic
art upon them. We know of only one illusion with an umbrella, but
we could enumerate dozens of feats of magic with flags. These rank
with cards, balls, silk handkerchiefs, watches, and rings as being
convenient—we may say conventional—articles with which to conjure.
We are reminded to refer the reader to Professor Hoffmann’s book
Later Magic for other selections from the repertoire with which we
are dealing here. These references are “With Silk Handkerchiefs,
page 303. With a Jar of Water and a Hat, page 538. With Rings,
page 544. With a Flag, page 361.” If the reader will turn to page 357,
he will find there a footnote referring to the very experiment which
we propose to discuss in this chapter. We are going to disclose the
secret of the methods we adopted to handle the same sort of telescopic
staffs that Professor Hoffmann has described in every detail on pages
353 to 357 °f his book. We shall ask our students to read that care­
fully written description, and to treat this chapter as supplementary
to it.
We have selected this item for one of our chapters, because we
believe that the difference between the disclosure of the secrets of the
apparatus as given by Professor Hoffmann and the record of an indi­
vidual artist’s manipulation of that apparatus will be interesting and
particularly instructive to the beginner.
The effect obtained is instantaneous and startling, and it is capital
as a finishing experiment. The author of it began by lighting a small
piece of tissue-paper at a candle, and showing both hands empty. Pull­
ing up his sleeves, he smothered the burning paper by bringing his
his hands together over it (1). Immediately taking his hands away,
he disclosed a bunch of colored silks. Shaking them out, one by one,
he showed that they were silk flags of various countries—France,
Austria, Russia, Holland, Spain, but neither Great Britian nor
America was represented.
The flags were shown to the audience one at a time, named, and
[257]
258 OUR MAGIC
taken in the left hand. The fingers grasped a corner of each flag. In
this manner, the flags were taken down to the audience who were in­
vited to convince themselves, by sense of touch, that the silks were
real (2). Holding the flags at arm’s length, the conjurer then returned
to the stage. Facing the audience, he put the fingers of his right hand
under the flags (which were still hanging in his left hand), and in­
stantly threw both arms wide apart, and in each hand was seen an
eight-foot staff, with a twelve- by eight-foot flag on each (3). One was
1
the Stars and Stripes; the other was the Union Jack. The effect in­
variably brought a round of applause so prolonged that the curtain
was raised again and again—a rare compliment for a conjurer.
TRICKS OR DEVICES
(a) The small flags—four or five are enough—are crumpled up into
a compact parcel, with all the corners inside, and the black part of the
German flag outside. This part should match the performer’s own
coat, and can even be of the same material. When it is made, the
parcel should be about the size and shape of a small tumbler. It is
secured with a broad band of black tissue-paper, fastened with sealing
wax, but no color must be visible in any part of the bundle. The
bundle is placed under the left armpit; while the arm is kept fairly
close to the side, the parcel appears to be part of the coat.
(b) The telescopic staffs are closed up, and the flags are folded in
the following way. First, they are folded in pleats, the folds of which
depend upon where the flag is fastened to the staff. Then, with the
flag laid flat on the floor, similar accordion pleats are made across the
others, but when about two-thirds of the flag is folded it should be
rolled tightly up to the staff. Secure it temporarily by some means
and, having done so, hold them together with the butt ends point­
ing opposite ways. Then secure them by a band of tissue-paper of two
or three thicknesses, wound round the center and fastened with
sealing wax. The ends of the handles should stick out a couple
of inches or so at each end of the bundle, because when the two
rolled-up flags are put side by side they are not kept level with each
other.
If the handles at each end of this compact and easily handled load
are grasped by the right hand above and the left hand below, and the
hands then thrown vigorously apart, the paper will burst, the flags
will unroll and unfold and the staffs shoot out to their full length.
1 The sizes were altered after Professor Hoffmann wrote. D.D.
THE NATIONAL COLORS 259
All this is done so quickly that the eye cannot follow the movements.
One other little detail, we have forgotten to mention. Two pieces
of old silk flags are wrapped over the flags after they are rolled up.
The ends of these pieces are secured under the paper-band, and the
centers of them are over the handles, which are grasped through
them.
(c) We have already described a set of imitation Sheraton tables.2
One of those with a round top is used for the experiment. A black
velvet mat lies on the table. If it were lifted up, one would discover a
hole in the center of it, three and a half inches in diameter. To the
edge of this hole is attached a tube two inches deep, and the velvet on
the top of the mat is carried over the edge of the hole and covers the
inner side of the small tube as well. The whole of this supposed mat
is made of cardboard, covered with velvet and trimmed with bullion
or silk. Behind the hinder legs of the table is a tube made of zinc,
sixteen inches long, closed at one end. The other end is open—four
inches in diameter, and round the edge of this opening is a half-inch
lip or flange, which rests on the table-top when this tube is passed
through the hole cut in the table-top to receive it. There is a slot cut
at one point of the edge of this hole, which allows a pin soldered on
the outside of the larger tube to pass through to the underneath side
of the table. When the tube is dropped in, it is twisted to carry the
pin away from the slot and thus prevent the tube being lifted up. A
plug of wood to match the table-top, and exactly fit the hole, may be
kept for use when the table is needed as an ordinary table.
PREPARATIONS
Knock the plug of wood out of the table, and drop in the tube.
Twist it, and drop the prepared mat over the tube and fit the latter
to the table with three small screws. Then insert the prepared parcel
of large flags on staffs. On top of them, lay a small piece of black velvet
as flatly as possible. On the mat, place a candlestick with a lighted
candle.
The small bundle of flags is put under the left arm, and a small
sheet of tissue-paper is held in the hands. This gives an excuse for
keeping the elbows close to the sides.
2 On p. 252. In Fig. 54, we have pictured a table of pedestal type, in place of the
very unusual style of table shown in Mr. Devant’s original illustration. It will be obvious
that this pedestal-table lends itself particularly well to the concealment of the “load”
used in “The National Colors,” since the single column can be hollow and of sufficient
size to hide the folded flags on their telescoped staffs (prepared as described on p. 258). P.F.
260 OUR MAGIC
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) As the conjurer advances to perform the experiment, the at­
tendant brings forward the table, ostensibly to put the candle within
reach of the performer. Having screwed up one end of the paper, the
conjurer holds it in his left hand, and, turning to the right, takes
the candlestick from the table and applies the light to one corner
of the paper. Then he replaces the candlestick on the farther side of
the table, leaving the mat clear.

Holding the paper upright, so that it burns slowly, the conjurer

takes it by the twisted end in his right hand and runs his left hand
along the under side of his right arm, from the cuff to the armpit,
dragging up the sleeve at the same time. Taking the paper from the
right hand with the finger and thumb of the left and, in doing so,
showing the hands are otherwise empty, the conjurer pulls up the left
sleeve in the same way. When the hand reaches the bundle the arm is
raised, the end of the bundle is clipped by the fingers, and the hand
THE NATIONAL COLORS 261
very quickly makes the return journey and, under cover of the arm,
conveys the “load” to the other hand, where it is immediately clapped
over the flaring paper.
For an instant, the hands are held together with the bundle be­
tween them. In that moment the paper is broken by a squeeze, and
when the hands are opened the silks are allowed to expand, and are
shaken and pulled until the colors are showing. The right hand does

the work, while the left hand holds the flags. (See Fig. 54.) In order
to display the flags, the conjurer pulls one away from the rest and
spreads it out, using the fingers and thumbs of both hands, but still
grasping the bunched-up flags with the other fingers of the left hand.
Having exhibited one flag thus, he lets go of the right-hand comer,
transferring his hand from the corner to the middle of the upper edge
and lays—or rather drops—it on the table, so that the same upper edge
covers the hole in the mat. When he has repeated this movement with
each flag shown, except the last one (which, after it has been spread
262 OUR MAGIC
out, is retained in the left hand), he picks up the flags from the table
in the reverse order.
He does this by catching hold of each one, with finger and thumb
of the right hand, at about the middle of the upper edge. He puts the
flags in the left hand just as they hang; but when it comes to picking
up the last one, the finger and thumb also catch hold of the large
bundle by one of the projecting staffs and carry it (under cover of the

flag) to the other hand, where both are placed behind the other
hanging flags. It will not be found difficult now to hold the flags so
that they completely hide the bundle which hangs in their midst, nor
to allow the silks to be touched by ladies to feel that it is real silk, and
yet not disclose the presence of the concealed “load.” (See Fig. 55.)
(2) The above audacious procedure not only misdirects the minds
of the audience completely, but gives an opportunity for the assistant
THE NATIONAL COLORS 263
to take the table away without being noticed, so that when the de­
nouement is reached no clue is left to suggest a possible hiding place.
(3) To produce the flags, the left hand grips the top handle
through all the loose flags and also the piece of velvet which is still
there, and the right hand grasps very quickly, but also firmly, the
bottom handle, taking care not to catch hold of any of the loose flags
as well. When the hands are pulled apart, one hand takes one of the
big flags, all the small flags and also the covering pieces of silk and
velvet, while the other hand carries away the other large flag and one
of the covering pieces, and the broken paper band usually drops to
the floor unnoticed. (See Fig. 56.) 3
3 The original illustration showed the production of four large flags (two on each
staff), but it has seemed best to include in Fig. 56 only the two flags (the Stars and
Stripes and the Union Jack) mentioned by the author earlier in the chapter. P.F.
CHAPTER VIII
WITH LIQUIDS. THE THREE VASES

T
he experiment we are about to describe ranks with “Hom­
ing Bells,” inasmuch as it is an effective opening number for
a program of magical problems. It may be interesting to trace
its evolution, and thus strengthen our argument that a comparatively
new and original feat may be created from old material, which may
be so completely redressed that even those who are quite familiar
with the plans of the former foundations will gaze upon the rebuilt
edifice and admire it as a fresh design.
What conjurer has not heard of “The Egyptian Pyramids”? We do
not refer to the colossal monuments of ancient Egypt, but to the feat
of magic described under that title at pages 378 of Modern Magic
and 375 of More Magic, both of which volumes our readers will
doubtless have at hand.
We have warned our readers against repeating hackneyed effects for
the mere sake of exhibiting improvements in the methods used for
producing them. We submit, however, that in this case the feat
(which may have been overdone at one time) has been neglected by
at least two generations of conjurers, and therefore there is a reason­
able excuse for showing a new version.
We shall assume that Professor Hoffmann’s descriptions (in the
books to which we have referred) have been carefully read by those
who are perusing these pages, and we shall now describe the effect
which was suggested by reading those explanations.
The curtain rises disclosing three assistants, each of whom is hold­
ing a large glass vase with a glass lid. The vases are similar to those
used by confectioners for displaying sweets or cookies in shop win­
dows, or on the counters. They may be of any size, in proportion to
the size of the room or hall. Those we use are of the shape seen in
Fig. 58, and are made of transparent glass, slightly corrugated.
On a table at one side is a bottle of wine (an ordinary quart claret
bottle), and on another table on the opposite side is a jug holding a
couple of pints of milk, and also a flag on a stick.
The performer, on entering, takes the bottle of wine from the
table, and calls the attention of the audience to it. “Here is a bottle of
ordinary wine,” he says, and then glancing at the label, adds, “very
[264]
THE THREE VASES 265
ordinary! I see that it is grocers’ Burgundy.” He takes one of the vases
from an assistant—who has removed the lid—and adds:—“And here I
have a large vase or goblet. Goblet! How well it sounds. I pour the
wine lavishly into the goblet.” He empties the contents of the bottle
into the vase, and hands the latter to the assistant who replaces the
lid, but, before doing so pretends that he is going to taste the wine.
Seeing this, the conjurer says, “I shall give the wine to the man on this
side then—only to hold, please,” and then adds, apologetically, speak­
ing to the audience, “He’s a new man.” Having replaced the bottle
on the table, the conjurer, crossing over to the other table and taking
from it the jug of milk, and the vase from the man on his right,
proceeds: —
“I have here a quantity of ordinary milk, that is to say, it is partly
milk. I pour this into this. While I am pouring, you will please notice
that these are real liquids, and would be most difficult to get up my
sleeve with any degree of comfort.”
Putting the empty jug back on the table, the conjurer takes the
vase containing the milk and walks over to the man in the center,
who takes the lid off his vase. The conjurer pours the milk into it,
and then returns the empty vase to the man from whom he took it,
who replaces the lid (1). In the same way, the conjurer fetches the
vase containing the wine, pours that into the milk and gives the
empty vase back to the assistant, who replaces the lid (2). The man
holding the mixture puts the lid on his vase.
“Now you notice,” the magician explains, “that I have shown you
wine and milk, and have mixed them together. I think you will
admit that the effect is good. I mean it is such a sweetly pretty color;
it looks like the blush of a negress.”
So far, two facts have been made plain to the spectators. First, they
have seen that the liquids are real liquids and, second, that the
glasses are genuine enough to hold the liquids. Also, it has been
plainly indicated that the wine was on the performer’s left and the
milk on his right, before the mixture was made, and that the mixture
is undoubtedly in the center vase. It is as well to mention here that
the quantity of wine and milk provided is sufficient to almost half
fill each of the side vases, and consequently the mixture nearly fills
the center one (3).
The audience have, up to now, no idea of what is going to happen.
They are simply watching and waiting. The conjurer picks up the
flag from the table and instructs the men to walk forward (4). They
accordingly do so, and the performer waves the flag. All this fills the
266 OUR MAGIC
scene with action. Evidently something is about to take place. (See
Fig. 57.)
The spectators are requested to “look at these four objects.” The
men mutely protest. “I mean the vases and this flag (5); I wasn’t
referring to the other objects,” says the conjurer. “Are you ready? Go!
Now you see the wine has gone back; the milk has gone back, and
here, in place of the mixture, we have the flag.” On the word “Go!”
(6) the flag suddenly vanished from the stick; the milk and wine as

suddenly appeared in their respective vases, and the mixture turned

into the missing flag, which is taken out by the performer, who shakes
it out (7) and remarks:—“I always use a Union Jack for this, because
it gets there every time.” The men march away, and the experiment
is over.
TRICKS OR DEVICES
(a) The Vases. On looking at the picture of the apparatus (Fig. 58),
it will be seen that there are three parts to be specially made—the
two lids for the side vases, and the glass shape. The latter goes into the
center vase and forms a watertight compartment, filling half the space
of the interior of the vase. The flat side of this receptacle is painted
black on the outside, and, in practice, the blackened side appears to
be that part of the man’s black coat which is seen through the goblet,
when it is in position for the illusion.
THE THREE VASES 267
Each lid forms a reservoir for a quart of clear water, and each is
provided with a circular piece of celluloid which fits over the hole
underneath the cover. The circle of glass surrounding the hole is
ground slightly, to prevent the piece of celluloid from slipping about
when it is in position. A small projection or tab is left on the celluloid
disc. A metal eyelet is fixed to this tab, and attached to it is a length

of thread. To the other end of the thread is attached a light metal

ring, large enough to slip easily on and off the glass knob at the top
of the cover.
(b) The flagstaff is made of brass tubing, painted black. The flag
vanishes through a slot cut in this tubing, and is taken quickly out
of sight by a spring-roller arranged in the following way:—
The spring is coiled round a thin rod attached to a solid metal plug,
and is surrounded by a metal tube to which one edge of the flag is
cemented. The spring is tightly wound by twisting the inner rod
while holding the tube, and it is prevented from unwinding by a
short sliding rod which runs from the plug to a hole in one end of
the tube. This rod is carried back and turned at right angles, and
projects through a slot in the shorter part of the outer casing, which
is made in two parts. The longer part has a slot its whole length. The
plug is fixed in the smaller part of the tube (which is about six inches
long) and the longer length is passed over it, the hanging flag passing
through the slot. The outer case is painted black, and represents a
268 OUR MAGIC
stick. The great advantage of this arrangement is that the silk flag
is carried quite out of sight, and much more quickly than would be
the case with an ordinary spring-blind arrangement.
PREPARATIONS
The hollow covers are filled by immersing them in a pail of water,
and putting on the celluloid discs under the water. They are, of
course, kept in position by atmospheric pressure and, with reasonable
care, they can be safely handled. The outside is dried. The rings on
the ends of the threads are put on the knobs, and the lids are put on
the vases.
A duplicate silk flag is tucked behind the glass shape, which is put
into the center vase; and the man holding it is placed in such a posi­
tion on the stage that the spectators at the extreme side of the audi­
torium cannot see any part of the colored material. The flag can be
made into a bundle, so that it occupies only the center part of the
space behind the glass partition.
The wine bottle is filled with a strong mixture of permanganate of
potash and water, but the jug contains only ordinary milk.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) The conjurer leaves about half a tumbler of milk in the bottom
of the vase; that it to say, he does not pour quite all of it into the
center vase. When the man replaces the lid, he takes off the ring at­
tached to the thread and carries it down behind the vase, which he
now holds by the stem and base with both hands.
(2) The same procedure applies to the wine and the other man.
(3) As a matter of fact, the side vases are only a quarter filled, but
appear to be half-filled. This is because the lower part of the goblet is
so very much less in circumference than the part nearer the lid. In the
same way, the center glass appears to be filled, but it really contains
only half the quantity it would hold, because only the receptacle is
filled.
(4) While the side men are going forward, each man inserts the
thumb of his left hand into the light metal ring, which should hang
just within reach of the thumb of the hand occupied in steadying the
foot of the vase. The other hand grasps the stem. The man in the
center must advance only as far as is safe for the side view. He holds
his vase in the same way as the others, but with his left hand reaching
round the front of the foot.
(5) At the words “this flag” the performer stretches out his left
THE THREE VASES 269
hand, which holds the flagstaff in such a way that the hanging flag
entirely conceals the center vase for a second or two, but apparently
without that intention. Under the cover so formed, the man twists the
vase around, so that the receptacle is nearest his body, and the
bunched-up flag faces the audience.
(6) “Go” is the cue for the two men at the side to pull the cords,
which they do by jerking their thumbs sharply downward. Thus the
celluloid discs are pulled sideways, and the water in the lids im­
mediately drops with a splash into the vases and instantly becomes
colored by the liquids left in the bottom of each vase. The men must
appear as surprised as anyone, and must move the vases a little, so
that the audience see that the wine and milk are really liquid. At
the same instant, the performer pulls the catch on the staff and re­
leases the spring roller, which takes the flag out of sight. He then takes
the duplicate out of the center vase.
(7) He carelessly throws the duplicate over the center vase, and
thus effectually covers the whole vase, so that the man, having put on
the lid, can turn and walk out with the others, without disclosing the
presence of the glass shoe. He also carries away the flagstaff.
CHAPTER IX
WITH A RABBIT, A BALL, AND TWO HATS.
THE SILVER BALL

G
iven a couple of rabbits, a six-inch solid metal ball, a sheet
of newspaper, a handkerchief, a lighted candle in a candle­
stick, two ordinary hats (one of which is a commonplace
bowler, or what the Americans call a “derby” hat, and the other a
silk topper), and add to these a feather boa which is borrowed from
a lady among the audience, and what can a conjurer do with them?
That is the question we wish to give an answer to in this chapter;
and as our answer is fully prepared and is properly attested by
experience as a suitable reply, we have no hesitation in putting it
into cold print.
Before proceeding, we should like to call the attention of our
readers to the desirability, merely as an exercise, of trying to evolve
a feat of magic from this or a similar collection of articles. Probably
they will discover that the resultant combination will take the form
of a sort of triple transformation, a kind of general post. All the
articles, having been disposed of in various ways, will be made to
reassemble magically, or change places. The magician will quickly
discover that, to bring about such a denouement, all the knowledge
he has acquired will be brought into play, because three or four
distinct feats must be blended so as to appear as one bewildering
effect.
In Fig. 59, the performer is about to commence the principal part
of the experiment. Having already given both hats for examination,
and having then magically produced the ball from the tall hat, he is
about to drop the ball on a board which lies at his feet. He does this
to prove the weight and solidity of the ball, and thus enhance the
wonder of its presence in the recently examined hat. He also strikes
it with the hammer which lies on the board, to prove that the ball is
solid metal and therefore not easily compressed or manipulated.
The rabbit, which is sitting on a table on the right of the picture,
has just been discovered in a feather boa. This was done while the
hats were in the hands of the examiners.
It will be noticed that all the appliances used are beyond suspicion.
The feather boa was borrowed and has served its purpose to intro­
duce, surprisingly, the rabbit, which is manifestly alive. The hats
[270]
THE SILVER BALL 271
have been scrutinized and found free from trickery. As for the rest,
the tables and chair, the candle and handkerchief, and the sheet of
newspaper—they will be used in such a way that no one will have any
reason to believe that they are anything but ordinary articles. It is
therefore unnecessary to bore the spectators by offering them for
inspection; in fact, it would be distinctly bad art to do so. It is

excusable to make an exception in the case of the metal ball; first,

because it is an unfamiliar object, and secondly because the surprise
of the spectators will be increased by a knowledge of its undoubted
solidity. That is why our magician takes care to prove that it is a
bona fide solid metal ball, by dropping it on the small board with a
resounding thud, and striking it with a hammer.
Having done this, the performer calls attention to all the appliances
he will use—first, the ball and the tall hat. He puts the ball into the
hat, and lays both on the chair behind him. At the same moment,
272 OUR MAGIC
he picks up the sheet of paper. This is the third article. Having
unfolded it, he spreads it over the table, from which he takes the
rabbit. The rabbit is the fourth article, and is placed on the sheet of
newspaper.
Now the performer picks up the tall hat and the ball, and directs
attention to the fifth article, namely, the lighted candle. He does

this in a curious way. Blowing out the candle, he hangs the tall hat
on it like a huge extinguisher. He then disposes of the ball by putting
it into the bowler hat, which it only half fills, and lays both on the
chair, the hat on its side with the ball facing the audience.
The hat which contains the ball is the sixth article, and the silk
handkerchief we have mentioned is the seventh. This the performer
shakes out and exhibits, and then, nipping it by the center with the
four corners hanging down, lays it gently on the balanced hat, hiding
as little of its surface as possible.
THE SILVER BALL 273
In actual practice, this disposition of the various objects occupies
only a very short space of time. Now things begin to happen!
The magician takes the rabbit by the ears with one hand, and
picks up the sheet of newspaper with the other. He walks forward
to the footlights, with the rabbit kicking behind the paper screen.
(See Fig. 60.) All movement of the animal is suddenly arrested by
the performer crushing the paper and screwing it up into a ball
about the size of an orange, which he tosses to the audience.
The bunny has vanished, but it reappears in a totally unexpected
place.
The bowler hat, with the shining metal ball in it, is picked up and
held by the brim with both hands. It is swung to and fro—once,
twice, thrice! The ball suddenly disappears, and in its place is seen
the rabbit. The animal is taken out and put back on the table, and
the felt hat is tossed down beside it, manifestly empty, because the
audience have had a clear view of all sides.
But where is the ball? This question is credited to the nearest
member of the audience by the deceptionist, and is answered by his
picking up the handkerchief by the center with the right hand, and
(after displaying the empty left hand) placing it beneath the folds of
the handkerchief and immediately producing a lighted candle. He
then drops the handkerchief and, lifting the silk hat, shows the silver
ball balanced on the candlestick. Apparently it has usurped the place
of the candle just discovered and now replaced; the solid ball is
dropped with a resounding thud on the board.
The combination ends, as it commenced, with the production of
a rabbit. The conjurer confesses to the audience that he has used
two bunnies, and asks them to admire the ingenious way that one
has been packed inside the other. Then straightway he pulls a second
living animal from the side of the first, in quite a casual sort of way,
as though it were an encore surprise—merely a side issue.
Here is the “talkee talkee” just as it was originally written, with
stage directions, to which are added the reference numbers to the
instructions at the end of the chapter.
“No conjuring entertainment is complete without hats, so I’ve
borrowed two; one of them is my own. I should like someone to
examine them. Will you, sir? And will you take this one, sir? You
will see there is nothing inside it. There never has been much. I’ve
always worn it myself.
“Now, may I borrow a lady’s fur or feather necklet—if there is a
lady who happens to have one that is not pinned on. I know the best
274 OUR MAGIC
way—two pins at the back, isn’t it? Thank you. Do you mind if I
pull a little bit of this off? I mean this little fluffy white piece. (Pro­
duces rabbit) (1).
“The hats are empty, are they not? Thanks.” (Takes the hats and
returns to the stage, carrying the rabbit in the tall hat. The felt hat
is hung on the rail of the chair, center stage) (2).
“It was very kind of that lady to bring this rabbit. Do you always
wear rabbit round your neck, madam? (Takes rabbit out of silk hat.)
Oh, yes, it’s1 alive; it isn’t a Welsh rabbit. (Places rabbit on table on
prompt side and to make room for it takes the candlestick and
handkerchief to other table, O.P. side) (3). You found this hat
empty, sir? Did you look inside it? Really! I suppose you didn’t notice
this. (Takes out ball.) It’s a sort of air ball. (Drops ball on board.)
All the air outside. It’s heavy (strikes it with hammer), as heavy as a
young wife’s first cake, but it is one of the things that I am going to
use for this experiment—this solid ball, this tall hat (puts ball back
into hat), and this newspaper. (Picks up newspaper from chair, and
lays down hat with ball in it) (4). There is nothing much in this;
it’s an evening paper. (Lays newspaper underneath rabbit on table.)
This little rabbit, I put on the newspaper (stroking the rabbit). No,
you’re not to read the police news; you’re too young. (Any cause
celebre may be mentioned here.)
“Now for the experiment. (Picks up hat in right, and ball in left
hand) (5). This tall hat I am going to hang on this candle. (Blows
candle out.) A curious place to hang a hat, but it’s my own hat and
I shall hang it where I like.2 (Hangs hat on candle) (6). The ball I
shall put in the bowler hat. I want you to see that I really do put it
into the hat, and that I don’t slip it up my sleeve. I shall leave it here
in full view. (Replaces hat with ball in it on chair.)
“Here, then, is my apparatus. This solid heavy ball, the little
rabbit, and the tall hat on the candle. There is one other thing I
want to show you—this ordinary handkerchief, which I fold, so, and
lay on the top of the hat—so. (Does so) (7).
1 This description is a little confusing. When the trick begins, the candlestick and
handkerchief are on a table on the right side of the stage, as viewed by the audience.
The performer now moves these articles to a table on the other side of the stage, which
he (being an Englishman) calls the “O. P.” (or “opposite prompt”) side, but which in
the American theater is known as the “prompt side,” as is explained in a footnote
on p.2 196. P.F.
Actually, both hats belong to the performer, though earlier in his patter he speaks
of them as “borrowed.” However, since both are submitted to the audience for exami­
nation, their ownership is not a vital point in the trick. P.F.
THE SILVER BALL 275
“Now I want everyone to keep one eye on that ball, the other eye
on this old hat, and another eye on this young rabbit. I am going to
put this rabbit behind this newspaper for a moment. (Rabbit is taken
in right hand, paper in left) (8). He is rather nervous; he is very
young and comes from the country. Now, look. Go! So much for the
rabbit. They don’t mind this when they’re young. (Smacking the
crumpled ball of paper.) Now, for the ball. That is rather more
difficult. (Picks up hat containing ball, and swings it to and fro.)
One, two, three, go! (Ball disappears, and rabbit is seen in its place)
(9) . Here is the rabbit, but where is the ball? (Puts hat and rabbit on
table.) That is pure curiosity, but I will try and satisfy it. In the
first place, I cover my empty hand with this handkerchef and here is
the lighted candle. Here, in place of the candle, is the ball (lifts hat)
(10) , still remaining absolutely solid. (Drops ball on board, and re­
places candle in stick.)
“I will tell you how I did that. I had two rabbits, but no one knew,
because one was inside the other.” (Second rabbit apparently pulled
from the other) (11).
TRICKS OR DEVICES
(See Fig. 61.)
The ball itself is not so heavy as it appears to be. It is made of
aluminum, and the board upon which it is dropped is raised a little
from the stage by its own frame, and therefore acts as a sounding-
board.
A duplicate trick ball is provided. This is hollow, and is formed of
two separate hemispheres. One is a little smaller than the other, and
is pivoted on it by a couple of pins with washers, so that it will lie
inside the larger hemisphere, but when revolved will form half of
what will appear to be a solid ball so long as the point of juncture is
hidden. A small knob near the lip of one-half of the ball, and a de­
pression at the corresponding side of the other half, form a sufficient
catch to lock them together. When the semi-revolution is made, the
projection is sprung into the niche. The smaller half has the silk
lining of a bowler hat glued into it.
The bowler hat has a lining similar to that fastened inside the
trick ball, and the hat used should have a crown into which the
larger half of the trick ball will fit nicely. A little cotton wool is fixed
under the sweatband of the hat to keep it puffed out a little, so that
when the two half-balls are in the hat, the edges (which should be just
276 OUR MAGIC
underneath the edge of the hat band) would not be noticed by a per­
son looking into the hat. Also, the outer half of the ball should fit
inside the crown sufficiently tight to allow of the hat being dropped
on a table, mouth downward, without fear of the shells falling out.
The table upon which the rabbit is placed has two specialties. The
top is really a shallow box, just deep enough to hold one of the rab­
bits. To this, access is gained by a triangular-shaped lid, the hinges

of which are at the base of the triangle and at the front part of the
table. The spaces between the edges of this flap and the table-top
proper are concealed by corresponding lines in the imitation inlaid
pattern, and other lines in the design conceal another trap in the
triangular board itself. This is cut near the base of the triangle, and
is therefore close to the front edge of the table. To construct the trap
(which is intended for a special purpose), commence by cutting out a
hole a little larger than the circumference of the silver ball. Then
cut the round piece of wood taken out into halves, and fix the two
halves with spring hinges so as to form doors to the hole. The doors
should be so made that they will open inward by pressure, and
immediately fill the aperture when released. They are prevented
THE SILVER BALL 277
from rising higher than the surface of the table by suitable stops, or
tongues, fastened on the underneath side of each door. The two slats
of wood seen in Fig. 61 are arranged to move laterally, and are drawn
together by two rubber bands which pull them under the doors after
they spring up into place; in fact, they are a simple means of locking
the trap after it has served its purpose. At the ends and in the middle
of an imaginary line drawn across the table just in front of this trap,
and extending just beyond its circumference, are fixed three small
sharp pin points bent down, with the points nearly touching the
table-top, and pointing toward the front.
The candle is really a short length of brass tubing, covered with
glazed white paper, with a small “well” at the top into which is put
an inch of real candle. A light spiral spring is arranged in the hollow
candlestick of just sufficient strength to push the “candle” upward,
but when a weight, such as the metal ball, is put on the upper end
of the tube representing the candle, the spiral spring is forced down
and the candle-tube sinks down into the hollow candlestick, which it
fits snugly. At the side of the candlestick (turned away from the
audience) there is a slot, and a screw-head is fixed to the lower end
of the candle-tube. This screw-head projects through the slot, and
forms a stop to prevent the candle-tube going too high. The top of
the slot is just under the ornamental top of the candlestick. The
same screw-head (turned into a small opening cut at right angles to
the slot, and at the lower end of it) locks the candle-tube when it is
required to hold it down out of sight.
A piece of wax candle the same length as the candle-tube is re­
quired. The wick is taken out; a safety wax match, with the head up,
is firmly fixed in its place by melting the wax of the candle round it,
after it has been pushed down to about half its length into the
opening left by the discarded wick.
At the back of the table on the O.P. side,3 there is a hole cut in the
hinder side of the box forming the table-top, and just beneath the
actual top. At the other side of this hole is a holder made of wire
to receive the prepared candle, so that the wick-end rests just beneath
the table-top edge and the remainder goes through the hole into the
holder. In the center of the silk handkerchief is firmly sewn a small
square of the prepared wood upon which safety matches are struck.
Three rabbits are used. Two of them must be duplicates, one
small enough to go into the trick ball and the other small enough to
go into the table-top box.
3 See footnote 1 on p. 274. P.F.
278 OUR MAGIC
The seat of the chair is padded in such a way that a depression is
formed near the back, in which the trick ball can rest without danger
of rolling out with any movement the rabbit might make inside it.
PREPARATIONS
One side of the handkerchief is hooked on to the three bent pin
points, and the handkerchief is then drawn backward over the trap,
which has been prepared by pulling open the slats from underneath
and pressing down the spring doors. The metal ball is now put on
the handkerchief and allowed to sink down into the table, carrying
the loose handkerchief with it. The other half of the handkerchief
is now laid over the projecting half of the ball, and loosely arranged
so that it appears to be simply a crumpled handkerchief lying in a
bunch on the table. The center of the handkerchief is gathered
together over the base of the trick candlestick which stands just
behind, so that the thumb of the hand which grasps the stem of the
candlestick will clip the center of the handkerchief firmly against it
and carry both away together. The candle-tube has been duly pre­
pared with the small piece of candle, which is lighted just before the
experiment commences. The duplicate piece of candle with the
match-wick is placed in its pigeonhole behind the other table.
One of the duplicate rabbits is put into the trick ball, which is
placed in the padded cup in the chair seat, with the larger hemisphere
of the ball toward the audience. This is covered by the half-sheet of
paper, which is simply placed against the ball in the way shown in
Fig. 59.
The second duplicate rabbit is put in the pocket H4 (Fig. 9, p. 195)
behind the waistcoat buttons, with the head pointing toward the
performer’s left; and the third animal is disposed of in pocket D with
the head toward the opening.
The performer carries the two hats with him when he first walks
on to the stage.
4 Pocket H was not actually visible in the original illustration of the dress-coat. The
author’s statement that it is ‘‘behind the waistcoat buttons” leads us to suspect
that it may have been a special pocket devised by Mr. Devant, and inserted inside
the waistcoat for this particular trick. (A comparable instance is his use of the vest
servante.) It should be added that, in most of the pictures in the original edition,
Mr. Devant is shown wearing a black waistcoat, which provided substantially more
“cover” than the more modern white one that is shown in our drawings.
Our inclusion of a pocket H is, then, merely in the interests of completeness. It
would not be a very good hiding place for a rabbit (especially in view of the fact
that pocket D of the coat is similarly loaded), but might serve well enough since the
rabbit is to be produced almost as soon as the performer begins the trick. P.F.
THE SILVER BALL 279
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) Receive the boa in the left hand, and bring it toward the right
which is held quite close to the opening of the vest. The moment the
boa covers the right hand, insert the fingers and pull out the rabbit
by the ears. Take it smartly up to the boa and then, with both hands
held away from the body, take the rabbit from under the covering boa
and exhibit it. If possible, choose a boa of about the same color as the
rabbit to be produced.
(2) The performer then carries the tall hat (with the rabbit in it)
round to the back of the table which holds the candle. When he is
about to take the rabbit out, he must be standing with the table to
his right, his left hand holding the hat with the crown toward the
audience and with the mouth of the hat about level with the ball,
which is concealed under the handkerchief.
(3) This is the most difficult thing in the whole experiment to do
naturally. The performer picks up the candlestick and handkerchief
together in the way described, and (by lifting them upward and
toward the tall hat) rolls the ball into the hat with hardly a sound.
The performer must do this without glancing at the objects; in fact,
at the critical moment he ought to be looking directly at the audience.
When the ball is safely in the hat, the performer walks away from
the table, thus bringing the handkerchief off the hooks.
(4) Having placed the candlestick and handkerchief on the op­
posite table, the performer transfers the hat from the left to the
right hand, and holds it mouth downward while addressing the
examiner. The ball is held in by the two fingers of the same hand.
Then the hat is turned over, and the ball discovered and taken out
with apparent difficulty, as though it fitted tight and was very heavy.
When the ball is replaced in the hat, it is laid on the chair for the
ostensible purpose of leaving the hands free to deal with the news­
paper. The left hand lays the hat on the seat of the chair, crown
outward, just as the right hand begins to draw the newspaper upward,
and not a second later; otherwise, the trick ball will be disclosed.
Should a glimpse of it be obtained by spectators at the extreme sides,
after the paper is withdrawn, they will simply imagine it is the solid
ball which has rolled out of the tall hat.
(5) The performer again holds the hat mouth downward, holding
in the ball as before with the two fingers. He holds the trick ball
close to his body, and carefully keeps the larger half-shell facing the
audience. The joint between the two shells is covered partly by his
280 OUR MAGIC
fingers curled round one side, and by his arm in front of the other
side.
(6) When the hat is lowered over the candle, the ball presses the
candle down into the hollow candlestick, and the hat is really bal­
anced on the ball—the diameter of which is the same as the length
of the candle.
(7) The bowler hat is brought over the ball in the left hand, and
the ball is pushed into the hat, while the crown of the hat is toward
the audience. When the hat is laid on the chair the spectators are
looking at the smaller half-shell, which is now uppermost. The pins
on which it revolves should be at the sides of the hat.
The handkerchief is shaken out and held by the center, with the
striking surface outward. It is laid down on the table for a moment,
so that the folded center just overhangs the place where the piece of
candle is hidden. A pretense is made of adjusting the balance of the
tall hat on the candle, and the opportunity is used for twisting the
screw-head to lock the candle-tube. When the right hand picks up the
handkerchief again, two fingers are placed under the center and
bring the candle up hidden behind the folds, and thus concealed it is
laid on the hat.
(8) When the newspaper was laid under the rabbit, the back edge
of the paper was left only just overlapping the back edge of the
table-top. When the conjurer now lifts up the rabbit with the right
hand, and the paper with the left (he is standing behind the table),
he also lifts the triangular flap, and when he lowers the rabbit behind
the paper he really lowers the rabbit gently, but quickly, into the
hollow box beneath. The moment the rabbit rests on the bottom of
the box, the conjurer’s left thumb lets go of the lid, which is caught
by the right hand and noiselessly closed over the rabbit. Now the
paper is carried forward, as shown in Fig. 60, with the right hand
still behind it, as though holding the rabbit. The fingers of that hand
tap and scratch the paper, and imitate the movements of the rabbit
which is supposed by the audience to be there.
(9) The bowler is taken in both hands, with the fingers curled
under the sides of the brim and the thumbs on the ball. When the
hat is swung, the ball is hidden for a second, and the thumbs press
the half-shell round and force it to revolve. It passes neatly under
the rabbit which immediately sits up, glad to be released from its
captivity. It is at once taken out, and put on the table.
(10) The performer lifts the handkerchief by the center—of course
holding the candle with it—and when he apparently puts his other
THE SILVER BALL 281
hand beneath the folds he really places it behind them and, taking
hold of the candle, strikes the match in the upper end on the card
at the same side of the handkerchief. Then the performer lifts the
handkerchief upward, as though the candle had appeared in his hand
while covered by the silk.
(11) The conjurer now walks over to the opposite table and, dur­
ing the journey, takes hold of the ears of the rabbit in6pocket D with
his right hand. When he picks up the visible rabbit, he brings the
5
two hands together coolly and quickly. For a momentary exhibition
the two animals will appear to be one, and when they are taken apart
slowly the illusion is complete.
5 The original text reads “left,” but this is certainly an error. Since the performer
is moving across the stage with his right side toward the audience, the right hand
is the one which must seize the rabbit from the left “loading pocket” (D) of the coat.
P.F.6
Obviously with the left hand. P.F.
CHAPTER X
WITH FISH AND LETTERS. THE EDUCATED FISH

H
artz, a most painstaking and ingenious conjurer, used to
say: “Give me an idea, and I will find a trick to fit it.” He
realized that the plot of a feat of magic was all-important.
When a story is good, the plot is usually clear and easily described,
and it is the same with an illusion. Furthermore, one cannot easily
add to it, or take away from it; it is fitted together with such nicety
that it must remain whole and unaltered, or its beauty is marred.
When we say this, we refer only to the main idea and plot, and
not to the means used for the illustration—which, in an illusion, may
be controlled entirely by the author. For instance, in our version of
“The Egyptian Pyramids” (described in Chapter VIII), we have not
tampered with the original plot: “Two different liquids are mixed
together in one vessel, and are then magically separated and dis­
covered in two other vessels.” That is the plot, concise, easily under­
stood, a complete tale of magic, which will be told and retold for
generations.
Here is another: “Catch money in the air, and find it everywhere.”
This also is a classical plot for an illusion. Mr. Nelson Downs pre­
sented it under the title of “The Miser’s Dream,” and introduced
many new devices and clever manipulations. But, if we may be per­
mitted a friendly criticism, he rather spoilt the interest of the story by
adding to it a sort of appendix of coin manipulations, which seemed
to be an anti-climax and a distraction. Such manipulations, admi­
rably performed as they were, had no place in the original plot, and
immediately following it (as they did) tended to confuse the minds
of spectators. People were left with the impression that they had
been witnessing an exhibition of marvelous dexterity; they had seen
the “King of Coins” and his obedient subjects, but the mystery of
the original legend was gone. True, they had seen a man making
money, catching it in the air and finding it everywhere, but they had
seen him do so many things with the same magically minted silver
that the impression conveyed by the original plot faded from their
minds and the performer became to them a coin manipulator, rather
than a magician.
At the commencement of his career as a public performer, Servais
[282]
THE EDUCATED FISH 283
Le Roy presented a very fine version of the “Catching Money.” He
commenced in the usual way by catching coins one at a time and
dropping them into a tall hat, but he finished by finding handfuls
of silver in the pockets of members of the audience. Surprised elderly
gentlemen were asked to empty their pockets, and they found fifty or
sixty half-crowns at the bottom of each. They themselves poured the
coins into the hat. The audience were roused to a pitch of enthusiasm.
“Where does it come from?” they asked each other, and none could
answer. Here was a proper finish. The story was told in a way that
listeners would remember. They were left with the rattle, the glitter,
and the jingle of money. Le Roy, having reached the climax, wisely
went on with an experiment of quite a different nature. We ourselves
give away real money to the audience, a convincing proof that we
catch it easily, that we make it out of nothing.
At the time of writing, Owen Clark is practising a new way of
presenting the same plot, which will appeal to those who know it by
heart. He has revolutionized the means by which the money is appar­
ently caught. He will be able to show every side of both his hands
slowly and deliberately, without any of those unnatural movements
which adepts in sleight-of-hand are unfortunately too prone to make.
As a matter of fact, he will not use any sleight-of-hand, because he
has discovered a new trick for producing the illusion. At our sug­
gestion, he has also changed the receptacle into which the coins are
dropped. A tall hat held in one hand has been used by conjurer after
conjurer. Owen Clark will have a large clear glass bowl standing on
a tripod of bamboo rods in the center of the stage. He will catch coins
with both hands and will toss them into the bowl, and thus he will
tell the tale again.
“How very rare a really new trick is,” we hear people remark. We
would reply that they are mistaken. Novel tricks or illusions are
comparatively abundant, but a new plot which at once appeals is
indeed rare; in fact, very few such plots have ever been devised.
“Fish spell words” is our plot for the illusion we are about to de­
scribe, and the title we give it is “The Educated Fish.”
The appliances visible to the audience are a bell-shaped glass
aquarium, set in a slender three-legged stand in the center of the
stage. The bowl is nearly filled with water, and in the water are four
live gold-fish. On the top of the glass aquarium is laid a sheet of
glass, upon which are placed, in little piles, twenty-six small wooden
tablets. Upon each of these is painted a letter of the alphabet. A
current copy of a daily newspaper, a small landing net, and a black-
284 OUR MAGIC
board upon which are printed the words: “Paper, Page, Column,
Line, Word,” complete the equipment. (See Fig. 62.)
When the performer comes forward to present the illusion, he
takes the sheet of glass from the top of the glass bowl, and two
electric lights are directed upon it from the sides (1). This is what he
says: —

“I have here a number of wooden tablets. On each tablet is roughly

printed a letter of the alphabet, and each one is weighted at one end
so that when the tablets are dropped into this aquarium—which I
ask you to notice contains nothing but water and a few fish—they
stand upright at the bottom of the bowl. Otherwise, they are unpre­
pared pieces of wood, and they will be dropped into the bowl, one
at a time, in front of you. (Hands glass slab with tablets to attendant,
who proceeds to drop them in such a way that the audience can
plainly see them sink to the bottom and stand upright there) (2).
“While that is being done, I shall ask members of the audience to
THE EDUCATED FISH 285
choose a word from this newspaper, which is a copy of to-day’s Daily
Telegraph, with twenty pages of words. Will a gentleman choose
one of those twenty pages? Just say which—number 5? Very well. We
shall select a word from the fifth page of to-day’s Telegraph. There
are seven columns. Would you, sir, mind saying which of the seven
columns we shall use? The third—very well. Now I shall ask a lady
to say how many lines we shall count from the top of that column and
then, from that particular line I shall ask someone to choose a word.
Will you, madam, please say which line? How many? Seventeen? Will
the gentleman near be good enough to count them (takes paper
down), and when you have found the line, sir, will you please select
any word in which the letters are all different, because I have only
one set of letters to drop into the bowl. (Goes back to stage.)
“I hope these preparations haven’t bored you. I only wish to prove,
as far as is possible, that the word used cannot be prearranged. (Goes
to blackboard.) In case anyone may wish to verify this for himself
afterward, I shall jot down the particulars on this blackboard. (Writes
‘Daily Telegraph, fifth page, third column, seventeenth line.’ Walks
over to aquarium, and takes up sheet of glass and net which attendant
has left on top.)
“Now, in this aquarium there are four educated goldfish; at least,
two are fish and the other two are fishesses. I think myself that fishesses
are really more intelligent than fish. The only difference between
fish and fishesses is that fish have votes.
“Here is a solid sheet of plate glass which I lay over this, to prevent
anything getting in at the top. You see it stands isolated from any­
thing else on the stage. (Passes net handle all round and under.) (3.)
“Now, to prove how intelligent these fish are, I shall get them to
spell the word that this gentleman has selected. Have you found one,
sir? What is it? (Gentleman replies. We will assume that the word
is ‘bleat.’)
“Well, it was impossible for the fish to have known beforehand
that the word was to have been ‘bleat.’ (Writes it on board.)
“Now Agnes—Agnes is the name of the stout fishess—Agnes, raise
B. If you watch closely, you will see how Agnes separates the letter B
from the others and causes it to rise slowly to the surface of the water.
Look! (4) (Letter rises, is taken out with net and dropped on sheet of
plate glass, which is replaced.) Now, Cuthbert—Cuthbert is that little
chap with the cast in his eye—he brings up the next letter. Cuthbert,
raise L. (Letter taken out as before.) Caroline—the stepsister of
Agnes—next letter, please. Quite right! Horatio, your turn. Horatio
286 OUR MAGIC
is a very clever fish. Raise A! Now, one more letter completes the
word. Agnes, your turn. If you do this nicely you shall have some
nuts. B-L-E-A-T. There is the word correctly spelt. I think you will
admit that my fish are intelligent. Sometimes they answer questions.
Agnes, do you want to spell any more? (N and O rise.) Agnes
doesn’t.” (5.)

TRICKS OR DEVICES

The aquarium is an ordinary bell-shaped glass bowl, without

preparation, set in a special metal stand. Figs. 63, 64, and 65 show
every part of the stand and the secret receptacle upon which the
illusion depends. In Fig. 63, we see the bowl at close quarters, as set
for the experiment, a back view of the same bowl in Fig. 64, and
finally a side view in Fig. 65; and in this last drawing our principal
device is fully exposed.
To construct this, a plate of tin is bent to fit the bottom of the
THE EDUCATED FISH 287
aquarium and cover about two-thirds of the space. On this are fixed
twenty-six metal boxes, each open at one end only, and of such a
size that the tablets used can be slid in and out without friction.
These boxes are arranged in two rows with thirteen on each side, and
it will be observed that a triangular space is left between them.
Attached to the front of the series of compartments is a flat piece of

polished metal, of such a shape that it fits the bottom and sides of
the bowl, and when in position forms an upright partition between
the part of the bowl in which the boxes rest behind it and the
unoccupied portion in front of it. The top edge of this partition is
cut straight; and this straight edge must be at the same level as the
larger of the two metal rings which support the bowl. When the
whole thing is in position it should rest just below the top edge of
the ring. As will be seen in Fig. 63, the strip of metal reflects the
water and glass in front of it and forms a perfect illusion, particularly
as the surrounding ring just cuts off the view at the juncture be­
tween the real and the unreal. The spectators in front of the bowl
will see nothing but what is apparently water and clear glass; while
288 OUR MAGIC
to those in the balconies above the view is the same, because in their
case the top edge of the strip is well concealed by the refractive
qualities of the water.
The letters that rise are painted on paraffin wax tablets made in
a brass mold, and they are exactly the same size as the wooden ones,
namely, 2 3/4 inches by two inches. They are about a quarter of an
inch thick, and are weighted at the bottom end with a few small shot
to prevent them from rising too quickly. Before the tablets have the
letters painted on them with white enamel, they are coated with

green anti-sulphuric enamel. When they are loaded into the boxes,
they are held down by small squares of lead fastened to small wire
arms which, in turn, are fastened to short lengths of tube which
revolve on rods running on each side of the triangular receptacle.
(In Fig. 66, we have a clear view of this minus the front piece.) To
each of these is soldered a small ring, and to each ring is attached
a black silk thread, which runs down through thin copper tubes
which carry each thread, protected from entanglement with its neigh­
bors, from the base of the boxes, underneath the metal plate, to the
top of the curved edge at the back. The threads are then carried
over the rim of the glass bowl, and are guided by a series of small
rings soldered on the back of the supporting metal ring of the stand.
They are finally fastened to another series of rings at the base of
the stand, and above each of these rings is marked a letter of the
alphabet. These letters correspond to those on the metal blocks that
are marked with the letters which are on the tablets underneath them.
The stage is prepared by cutting a narrow trap, or slot, which can
be closed from underneath. When open, it is concealed by the strip
of metal to which the threads are attached, and it is long enough
and wide enough to allow the passage of a small hook—a common
button-hook answers the purpose—with which the assistant pulls the
THE EDUCATED FISH 289
threads as required. A slight pull is sufficient to turn the block over
and away from any particular letter which is wanted to rise. The
tablets shown to the audience are weighted with a slip of lead at
one end, heavy enough to prevent them from rising.
PREPARATIONS
The receptacle is lifted out of the water, as in Fig. 65. The wax
tablets are carefully placed in the marked boxes. Every precaution is
taken against the threads being entangled, or any obstruction being
lodged between the tablets and the sides of the boxes.
This having been done, the receptacle is gently lowered into the
water without disturbing the arrangement. All the metal work should
be nickel-plated, and care should be exercised in choosing a suitable
background for the threads, which of course must remain invisible
even to those who are seated nearest to the front.
Footlights should not be used if they reflect in the glass, as they
are apt to do, for in that case the view of those in the balcony will
be spoilt.
The assistant should be provided with a dictionary.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) These arc lights are directed in such a way that the threads
lying over the back part of the aquarium are not illuminated.
(2) The attendant drops the first two or three tablets, with the
letters facing the audience, in front of the metal partition. The next
six or eight tablets, with the backs toward the audience, are dropped
in front of these, so as to hide the letters completely. All the rest of
the letters are allowed to fall in the triangular space behind the
partition.
(3) The plate of glass will not interfere with pulling the threads.
The handle of the net is rattled between the back and front legs.
(4) After dropping the tablets into the bowl, the attendant goes
beneath the stage and opens the trap. When he hears the word, he
looks it up in his dictionary—should he feel at all doubtful as to the
correct way to spell it—and then carefully takes hold of the right
thread with his hook and, after a short pause, following the per­
former’s words, pulls it. This process is repeated for all the other
letters in the chosen word.
(5) The last effect is omitted if either N or O has been used; or
the answer can be altered to “Yes” by the performer giving the cue
by putting his question in this form: “Are you sure you have spelt
the word correctly?”
CHAPTER XI
WITH DOVES AND RATS. THE POINT OF VIEW
he idea of our next experiment is this: “A conjurer demon­
strates to the audience that they cannot believe their own
eyes when magic rules the roost.”
The plot is as follows: Two doves are placed between two straw
hats and changed into rats, and the birds reappear in the wire cage
from which they are taken.
“Not nearly such a good plot as the last chapter,” our readers may
remark. “Too overloaded. Why not simply ‘Doves changed to rats.’
Why the anticlimax?” Our readers will be quite right, but still we
think that in this case the plot is married to an idea for an original
scheme of patter, and that the twain cannot well be divorced.
We shall not attempt to twist about our work to suit our own
theories. If all our results fitted our theories, of course both would be
beyond reproach. We are willing to admit that the present combina­
tion is not one of those effects that have all the qualities of a really
good plot such as, for instance, that of “The Chinese Rings” (solid
metal rings that are linked and unlinked at will), “The Inexhaustible
Bottle” (any drink called for supplied from one bottle), or “The
Magical Growth of Flowers” (instantaneous germination). These are
plots for perpetuity, masterpieces of the magic art, monuments to
their inventors, themes that lesser men will build reputations upon
so long as there are wizards to bewitch the world.
We shall relate how the combination we are about to explain was
suggested. Mr. Martin Chapender, one of the most promising young
wizards we ever introduced to the public, was overtaken by death on
the very threshold of his career. After this lamentable event, certain
of his properties and pieces of apparatus came into our possession.
Among them was a cage for the sudden appearance of two doves, in
which a principle of our own invention was cleverly adapted. The
cage was from the workshop of Mr. Henry Bate, who had designed
and constructed the ingenious mechanical parts. Mr. Chapender
unfortunately used it only a few times at the Egyptian Hall. His
manner of exhibiting it was as follows:
The cage was hung up in the center of the stage. Two doves were
made to vanish, and when Mr. Chapender fired a pistol they appeared
in the isolated cage. This was an effect of transposition that was
[290]
THE POINT OF VIEW 291
being exhibited at the same time by many conjurers with canaries
instead of doves. Mr. Chapender’s version, however, was on a dif­
ferent principle from the others, and had the advantage of being done
with larger objects.
Now, having that piece of apparatus before us, we cast about for
a mode of presentation which would introduce it differently and, if
possible, without calling direct attention to the cage as the principal
object. We decided that the cage must appear in its usual capacity,
simply as a dwelling house for birds in captivity.
Only a short time before, we had actually seen a conjurer bring
on a cage, take it to pieces, put it together again, and then cause two
canaries to appear in it. He was quite proud of it, and evidently
thought it a vast improvement on the procedure of the man he was
imitating. This man brought on two canaries in a cage, took them
out, and put them in a paper-bag. He then fired a pistol through the
bag, and the birds appeared again in the cage.
In our opinion, the conjurer who took the cage to pieces and
carefully exhibited each section to the audience was not only giving
himself a lot of unnecessary trouble, but was also almost telling them
that he was using a mechanical trick in the cage, by directly calling
attention to it in the way he did. He might just as well have said:
“Here is the cage. Puzzle: Find the birds I am about to produce
in it.”
On the other hand, we think Mr. Chapender called too little atten­
tion to his denouement. When the birds were taken out, the cage
(from the audience’s point of view) was finished with. All eyes were
on the paper-bag, and only when it was blown to pieces was their
attention drawn to the cage once more. By that time the birds had
already arrived, but the spectators had just missed the moment
of the reappearance; in fact, the whole performance was akin to a
pantomime trick, in which the clown jumps through a window and
suddenly springs up through a star-trap on the other side of the stage.
“He we are! Bang! Gone! Here we are again. Ha-Ha!” No more
direction or misdirection of the mind of the audience was attempted
either by words or action.
Again, Mr. Chapender called just a little too much attention to
the cage by having it hung up empty beforehand. He produced the
doves during the performance and then, after causing them to vanish,
pointed a pistol at the cage. The audience undoubtedly saw the
magical appearance of the birds, but the cage was obviously there
for that purpose, and the spectators probably concluded—especially
292 OUR MAGIC
as no other reason was suggested—that they had witnessed a very
clever trick—with a cage.
We wished to avoid the weak points in the three examples we
have quoted, and we were also desirous of bringing in an element of
surprise, and of using some new objects to lend an air of freshness
to the experiment. We had noticed that straw hats had never been
used in any magical feat of which we had ever heard. We decided
to put the doves between a couple of straw hats; and, instead of mak­
ing them vanish, to change them to something of about the same size
and color. We thought of many things, and finally decided upon tame
white rats. These fitted into our scheme or idea, which we entitled
“The Point of View.”
The cage (with two white doves or pigeons) stood on a table in the
center of the stage, and the two straw hats lay on a tray on a table
to the right of the performer. The conjurer, having accepted a white
handkerchief from an assistant, thus addressed the audience:—
“Ladies and gentlemen, my next experiment is called ‘The Point
of View.’ You know, your point of view is a very important part of
your outlook, as it were; in fact, I believe that, in the near future,
people will no longer ask each other how they are in health, but
will greet their friends with the question: ‘How is your point of
view?’
“I have heard that Indian conjurers do not really present the
marvels to which they lay claim; they simply alter the point of view
of their audience. I shall show you what I mean. (Walks up to cage.)
Here, in this cage, are two white doves, and here is an ordinary white
handkerchief. Now, will the audience oblige me by watching these
birds for a second or two? (Twisting up handkerchief he holds it by
opposite corners, and twirls it in front of cage.) Now, I assure you,
your point of view is altered.
“I have here two ordinary straw hats. (He goes to the footlights,
and shows the hats to be empty. He also bangs them together to
show that they are ordinary straw hats.)
“They are very old, but I believe in making use of everything; my
father was Scotch. (He walks up to cage, hands one hat to assistant,
takes doves and puts them into other hat) (1). I put these doves, one
at a time, into this hat. This is Mr. Dove and this Mrs. Dove. No
quarrelling, please. I cover them with the other hat—so (here takes
other hat from assistant and does so) (2). Now, I dare say every person
in this theater really thinks I have put two straw hats between two
doves—I mean two doves between two hats. There is a lady down
THE POINT OF VIEW 293
there who even images that she can hear the doves fluttering. Can
you not, madam? (listening to fluttering himself) (3). I thought so.
Well, I must tell you that, although I put something between these
hats, they were not doves, but rats. (Takes off top hat, and puts it
on tray) (4). Real live rats (takes them out) (5). If there is any lady
here who does not believe that they are real, I shall be delighted to
pass them for examination, tails and all. No? Very well. (Puts hat and
rats on the tray, picks up handkerchief.) Now to restore your point
of view. (To assistant.) Bring that cage. (Here he lifts it up (6); the
performer waves the handkerchief in front, as before, and the doves
appear.) Watch! (Taking cage from assistant, the performer shows all
sides of it to the audience (7) and continues.) You see, the birds have
never been taken out of the cage at all. They have been here all the
time. It was simply your point of view, ladies and gentlemen, that
was changed.”
TRICKS OR DEVICES
The two straw hats are provided with devices which can be seen
in Fig. 67. The hat on the right of the picture is carefully fitted with
a tin lining, or box, which can be pushed into it fairly easily. When

in position, it appears to be the lining of the hat, because the inside

of the receptacle is covered with an exact duplicate of the real lining.
Beside the other hat is seen a tin cover or lid, which fits nicely
into the mouth of this second hat; and when this cover is in position
the crown of the hat forms a sort of box, with ample accommodation
for a couple of doves or small pigeons. On the brim of the hat will
be seen two small hooks which move laterally on two pins riveted
through the straw, and the points of these hooks go through holes
made in the side of the crown. When it is necessary to fasten the lid
to the mouth of the hat, these hooks are pushed through the holes by
294 OUR MAGIC
the thumbs of the performer, and engage in two slots which are cut
in the flange of the lid.
In Fig. 68, it will be seen that the metal lining and cover also form
a box and lid independently of the hats. There is a narrow rim on
each. The one on the box has two lugs (or tongues of metal) turned

or bent over on to the rim, one on each side. The flange on the lid
is carried only half way round the oval; the ends of this half-rim are
at each side, and are beveled so that when the lid is slid on from one

end, as in the picture, the ends of the top flange are pushed under
the lugs on the under one, and wedge pretty firmly.
Now this box (with its lid, which can be taken off only by sliding
from one end) is large enough to contain two large tame white rats.
We shall suppose that in the next picture (Fig. 69) the two rats are
in the box, which is seen in the hat on the left of the drawing. The
performer intends to put this hat over the one at the right of the
picture, which we shall suppose contains the doves. In Fig. 70, the
performer has turned the hats over, so that the rats are now in the
lower one and the doves in the upper, and we see him in the act of
pushing home the hooks. When he wishes to complete the operation,
THE POINT OF VIEW 295
he simply has to slide one hat off the other, as in Fig. 71. The lid is
pushed off by the hat and, being fastened to it by the two hooks, is
carried away with it, with the two doves inside, while the rats are
disclosed in the other hat, and the apparent change is complete.
The cage is seen in Fig. 72 as it appears to the audience when ready

for the illusion, except that there should be two doves inside it. The
principal device is contained in the back panel. This device is based
on a principle invented by us in 1880; it has since been applied to

many effects and illusions, from “The Artist’s Dream” downward. If

a plain, flat, dark-colored velvet curtain forms the background of the
stage or room, and a similar piece of material is hung up (or held)
in front of it; if the edges of the hanging panel are covered by some
sort of frame; and if both panel and background are equally lighted,
the frame will appear to be empty to the onlooker, provided it is
placed at such a distance from the larger cloth and in such a position
that an observer, placed in any part of the auditorium, could not,
even if the frame were empty, see anything through it except the back
cloth.
In the present case, the back frame filling the space between the
296 OUR MAGIC
sides, the floor, and the triangular roof of the cage, is covered with
velvet similar to the background; and over this are arranged dummy
cross-pieces and wires, duplicating the real back of the cage, which is
hidden behind the illusive panel.

A side view in Fig. 73 clearly shows the trick parts. The birds that
are to be produced are held in the annex at the back, and when they
enter the cage proper the panel (which is fastened to a strong spring

hinge) falls very quickly, and lies flat on the floor of the cage. The
back of the panel is similar to the bottom of the cage and completely
covers it. At the same time, the wire chamber closes up and lies flat
THE POINT OF VIEW 297
against the back of the cage; in fact, it actually forms part of it, as
will be seen by looking at the next drawing, Fig. 74, which gives a
back view of the device after the concealed birds have been produced.
This is managed in the following way. About a dozen of the wires
in the center of the back are cut away from between the slats of
wood that run round the cage. These are replaced by a number of
wires fastened to two strips of clock-spring, which are in turn fas­
tened at one end only behind the wooden bars. Normally, this wire
fence lies flat against the back of the cage, but it can be bent into a

semi-circle and held back by two small loops which are formed in
the fourth wire from the right-hand side. This wire terminates at its
base in a small loop projecting at right angles, and it answers two
purposes. It is arranged to slide up and down, and is allowed a move­
ment of about a quarter of an inch. When it is pushed right up, the
two loops in it are brought level with the top and bottom of the
wire fence, the free ends of which can be bent under them. Also, the
top of the same wire goes through a hole in a small plate fixed on
the top edge of the false back, and it is thus held in place. When the
wire rod is pulled down, both the panel and the wire fence are
released, and the latter is quickly pulled into the right position by
two spiral springs, fixed at one end to the wires and screwed at the
other end to the wooden frame.
The semi-circular compartment requires a roof and a floor. These
are provided by soldering graduated lengths of wire at right angles
to two thin strips of metal, which are made into light spring hinges
fastened on to the wooden cross-pieces. When the fence is bent into
position, two hooks formed at the end of the middle wire of each of
298 OUR MAGIC
these flaps are sprung over the top and bottom rails of the fence.
On the collapse of the compartment, the rails of the fence go inward
leaving the hooks, and the two flaps are pulled up and down respec­
tively by the spring hinges; and since the short lengths of wire lie
behind the wires of the cage, they are not perceived. The lower flap
is covered with celluloid to prevent the claws of the birds being
caught in the wires. Being made of clear celluloid, it is hardly per­
ceptible at a short distance.
We trust we have now made it quite clear how the birds are so
suddenly produced in the seemingly empty cage. They themselves
have no choice in the matter. If they do not tumble in when the flap
drops, they are propelled through the opening by the spring fence,
and in either case there is the satisfaction of knowing that they can­
not be hurt or injured in the process.
PREPARATIONS
The cage is set by lifting up the false panel, and (while holding it
against the back) pushing up the wire rod. The wire fence is bent
back, so that the free ends of the top and bottom rails may be inserted
behind the stops on the same wire. The lower flap is hooked into posi­
tion, and the two birds are placed in the compartment and secured
by the top flap. Two duplicate birds (small white pigeons are the
most suitable kind to use) are put inside the cage, which is placed on
a small, thin topped table in the center of the stage. The table is
placed so far back that persons in the balcony can see nothing through
the back of the cage except the back cloth, which must be of plain,
dark-colored velvet hung to show a flat surface.
Two rats are placed in the tin box, which is closed with the sliding
lid. The ends of the box are marked, as also are the hats; this enables
the performer to place both hats and box in the right positions for
the movements which follow.
A second table is required. This stands on the O. P. side,1 halfway
between the center table and the front edge of the platform. On this
table is a tray with two hats upon it.
The box with the rats is left in 1charge of the assistant who has to
enter with it from the O. P. side. The performer has a large white
handkerchief.
1 That is, the left side of the stage, as seen by the audience. See, in this connection,
footnote 1 on p. 274. P.F.
THE POINT OF VIEW 299
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) The assistant has just entered from the O. P. side,1 and is
standing between the two tables with his right side to the audience.
Unknown to them, he is holding the box of rats in his left hand
against his coat, with the box portion nearest his body, in such a way
that no part of the box can be seen by the audience. He grasps it
with the fingers spread over the lid part. When the conjurer hands
him the hat (the one without hooks), he is standing on the conjurer’s
right and a little behind him. Directly he takes the hat, which he
holds by the brim, crown outward, he brings his two hands together
and coolly pushes the box into it. He then turns full face to the
audience, and holds the hat with both hands at right angles to his
body, crown up, grasping it by the brim with thumbs on top and
fingers underneath. He takes this opportunity to push the box well
up into the hat and waits, ready to hand it to the performer. The
audience meanwhile are occupied in watching the performer putting
the doves into the other hat; but even if they were all looking at the
assistant there is nothing suspicious about his movements, if he re­
members to move his hands slowly and himself watch the conjurer.
(2) Here the assistant hands it to him with his right hand, and
the performer (who is holding the hat containing the doves in his
left hand) also receives it in his right hand, taking it by the brim,
with thumb on top and two fingers well underneath, to support the
box until it is safely resting on the second hat.
(3) This is the excuse for turning both hats completely over. This
is done as they are raised to the ear. When they are lowered the brims
are resting on the thumbs; they are allowed to do so entirely for a
moment, while the fingers are slipped underneath and the thumbs
are again brought on top. The performer next pushes home the two
hooks, and then slides the top hat away from him until the lid is
off the box. Both these actions are accomplished with the thumbs.
The necessity for marking the hats and the box, and making each
movement with them definite and always the same, will be obvious.
(4) Having now transferred the left hand from the sides of the
hats to underneath the crown of the lower one, the performer lifts
off the upper one by grasping it by the crown, and laying it on the
tray which is on the table on his right, and near which he ought to be
standing.
(5) The assistant crosses the stage behind the performer, and in
front of the cage, and stands near the cage.
300 OUR MAGIC
(6) The assistant lifts it up from the table, but does not bring it
forward. To lift it without exposing the presence of the panel, he
takes hold of the back and front of the base of the cage, bringing his
hands up to it from beneath. (Hence the necessity for a small table.)
The thumb of his right hand is brought over the projecting loop.
(7) A smart downward pressure of the assistant’s thumb pulls the
rod and releases the catches. The performer takes the cage by the
top handle, and exhibits it freely.
CHAPTER XII
WITH A CANARY AND A TARGET. THE PHOENIX
canary to be cremated and rise from its ashes in imitation
of the mythical Phoenix.” That was the idea of the plot,
but how could the bird be burnt without suggesting roast
canary and the callous cruelty of conjurers?
We decided that the deed must be done quickly and in itself form
a surprise, and our thoughts wandered to flash-paper. What could be
more effective? The little yellow songster should be gently taken
from its cage and carefully transferred to a tissue-paper bag. The
bag and its fluttering occupant should be hung up in an isolated
position and then, at an unexpected moment, a sudden blinding
flash of fire, and instant annihilation of both bird and paper.
Having solved the first difficulty, we boldly faced the next one.
The reincarnation must quickly follow the destruction. Were it long
delayed, the audience would have time to imagine things and trem­
ble for the safety of the bird. Further, when it occurred, all doubts
and fears must be allayed by the canary reappearing obviously un­
hurt and chirping merrily.
Now it occurred to us that a sudden transformation of the paper-
bag to another and totally different object at the time of ignition
would be quite surprising, especially if that object could be found
to contain the bird with unruffled plumage. A cage naturally sug­
gested itself as the most suitable article for the bird to be discovered
in. Anyway, we could think of nothing better; and so the next task
was to invent a means of changing a suspended paper-bag into a cage.
Our attempts to solve this problem were many, and we shall not
weary the reader with a catalog of our failures, although a record of
such trial devices is well worth keeping for future reference. Very
often some of the discarded ideas prove useful for purposes quite
different from those for which they were originally intended.
The result of our experiments was the notion of shooting at the
bag, which was hung up in front of the bull’s-eye of a suspended
target. (See Fig. 75.) This target transformed itself into a cage con­
taining a bird, at the same instant that the spontaneous combustion
of the paper took place. The transformation was to follow the success­
ful shot made by a member of the audience, and (to introduce a little
[301]
302 OUR MAGIC
comedy) we decided to make use of another object which might be
apparently hit by accident. A short time before, the late Mr. Frank
Hiam had shown us a trick candle which would light or go out at
will. This he hoped we would present in our performance, and thus
introduce it to the profession. Here was the opportunity. A member
of the audience might be asked to fire at the target with an air-gun

loaded with mysterious pellets which would work wonders. He fires

and misses the target, but seems to hit the lighted candle standing
near it and out goes the light. We take the gun, and with a second
shot relight the candle. Once more the spectator fires, and this time
successfully.
We then devised and constructed a target which would turn into
a cage automatically, and at the same time set fire to the paper-bag.
We also invented a means by which the canary first shown could be
vanished, and an understudy could take its place in the appearing
THE PHOENIX 303
cage. Then our Phoenix was hatched, and ready to fly in the face of
the British public.
The next thing to do was to write the words, which were as
follows: —
“My next experiment is called ‘The Phoenix.’ I wasn’t able to
obtain a real Phoenix, so I bought this canary; it is a real canary.

The first stage of the trick is to put the canary into this little paper-
bag. I assure you the bird is not, and cannot be, hurt during this
experiment; in fact, it rather likes it. It doesn’t hurt a canary to put
it into a paper-bag; it isn’t like putting a paper-bag into a canary.
(During this speech the bird is taken out of the cage and put into the
bag.) (1.)
“I want to call your attention to that small target which is hanging
quite away from anything else on the stage. (See Fig. 75.) I hook
this paper bag to the top of the target here (Fig. 76), so that the bird
hangs just in front of the bull’s-eye (2).
304 OUR MAGIC
“Now I want the assistance of a gentleman who is a good shootist.
I mean a man who, when he fires, always hits something. Perhaps
there is a member of the state militia present, or a gentleman who has
shot the moon. (The performer goes down to the audience, and per­
suades someone to take the gun.)

“Now, sir, when I say ‘three,’ shoot at the bull’s-eye. You shoot out
of this end, where the little hole is. Aim at about right angles to the
circumference. One! Mind that lady’s ear; she wants it. Two! Three!
(The candle on the stage goes out.) (3.) You’ve put my light out, sir;
that’s a scandalous shot. Allow me. (Performer shoots and candle
lights again.) (4.) There, how would I do for a match? Have another
shot, sir. Three shots for nothing; all the fun of the fair. One, two,
three, fire! (The paper-bag bursts into flames and the target becomes
a bird cage, with the bird inside, as in Fig. 77; the performer goes
to the stage, and unfastens it from the chains.) (5.) That’s a capital
THE PHOENIX 305
shot, sir. It isn’t every man that brings down the birds, let alone
cages with them. Perhaps the ladies would like to satisfy themselves
that the bird is unhurt. (Takes down cage and offers it to a lady to
examine.) No, it won’t tell you how it is done; this is not one of
those little birds that tell things.”

The small cage is an ordinary one, such as can be purchased

at any bird shop, but some additions are necessary. There is a small
board which fits within the roof of the cage and also forms a false
bottom to the cage when required. In Fig. 78 (which shows a rear
view of the stage), it is seen halfway between the two positions.
Projecting from the front edge of the board, through the wires, is
a small metal ring. This is the handle by means of which the performer
carries down the board when he wishes to move it. The ring is also
the terminal of a strip of metal which passes right through the
thickness of the board and emerges at the opposite edge, finishing in
a point which fits into a hole at the back of the cage. When it is
306 OUR MAGIC
desired to fasten the board to the top, the strip of metal (which is
allowed to slide backward and forward) is pulled outward. The board
is placed in position, and the strip is pushed inward. The ring
goes into the notch cut for it in the front, and the point passes
through the hole at the back. There are two swinging perches—cross­
bars of wood hung on strings. One of these is pendant from the false
top, and the other hangs from the actual roof. Space is allowed for
the latter perch to lie between the board and the top. When the
board is at the bottom of the cage, its ends rest on two slips of wood
nailed inside the cage, at such a height that the canary has ample
room.
The candle is an imitation one made of metal. It is simply a piece
of brass tube, covered with glazed white paper, and containing a
small cylindrical lamp, with a wick of about the same size as a
candle-wick. The top of the tube is closed, with the exception of
a small hole through which the wick can pass, and a few air holes
are drilled in it. The latter are very necessary because, although the
lamp rests on a spiral spring which forces it to remain at the upper
end of the tube, it can be drawn down into the tube when the light
is required to disappear or, as the audience imagine, go out. This is
managed by attaching a thread to the lower end of the lamp. This
thread is passed right through the hollow candlestick and a hole
in the table, down to a screw-eye in the floor, and thence to the hand
of the ever-useful hidden assistant.
Flash-paper can easily be obtained ready-made. It is paper dipped
in a solution of nitric and sulphuric acids; it is then passed through
water and allowed to dry. Paper so prepared will, on ignition, prac­
tically disappear, like gun cotton, in a brilliant flash.
The target is practically a folding cage, covered by a spring blind
representing the face of a target. This is so constructed that it opens
out automatically and instantaneously by pulling a thread. We pro­
pose to describe the cage by a series of drawings which, at the same
time, show how it is set for the illusion. We shall therefore at once
pass on to the necessary preparations, commencing with this piece
of apparatus. We ask the reader first to glance back at Figs. 76 and 77
(which show the cage before and after the transformation) and also
at Fig. 78 (giving a back view of the device when ready for exhi­
bition).
PREPARATIONS
The target cage is held upside down, as in Fig. 79, and the tele­
scopic perch, which is hung from short lengths of brass wire, sliding
one on the other, is shaken down into the roof. A stiff piece of wire
THE PHOENIX 307
fastened at right angles to one of the curved wires, forms a special
perch for the bird, which is now put into the domed top; this part
of the cage does not collapse in any way.

Two short lengths of chain are attached to the handle of the cage
by spring hooks. On the front of the wooden frame are a small plate

with a hole in it, and two square-headed staples. These will be on the
top edge of the target when it is prepared. In the next drawing, Fig.
80, the operator is seen folding in the side of the cage. To do this,
308 OUR MAGIC
he has to lift up a wire in the bottom panel, which is bent upward
to keep the side frame pressed against the metal stop. The bent-up

wire offers no obstruction to the side panel falling into place, but
once it has passed the point of the wire the latter must be pulled out
of the way before the panel can be folded back.

The next picture, Fig. 81, shows the folding, in the same way, of
the opposite side. Each of the panels is on spring hinges. The floor
of the cage is now folded against the front, and both together are laid
upon the sides. The tapes stretched from back to front are to support
the bottom when it falls. (See Fig. 82.) Finally, in Fig. 83, the back
of the cage is being laid on the others.
THE PHOENIX 309
In Fig. 84, we see the spring blind being pulled out from its hiding
place in the back of the upper frame. The wire rod upon which the
end of the blind is stitched, and which the operator is holding, has
two small rings upon it, and when the rod is laid on the opposite edge
of the frame and over the folded panels the two short lengths of chain

are brought up to meet it. Now a length of steel wire (with a loop
formed in one end of it) is passed through both the rings on the
blind, and also through a single link in each of the chains.

In Fig. 85, the operator is seen passing a strip of clock-spring—

which has a slip of sand-paper cemented underneath it—over the
head of a wax match and under the two square-headed staples. The
head of the match has been pressed firmly into the little hole in the
frame in Fig. 79. At one end of the strip of metal is an eyelet hole
to which is attached a strong thin silk thread, and this thread is
passed across the stage to an assistant at the side. A second piece of
310 OUR MAGIC
thread is fastened on to the steel wire and joined to the first with
some “slack” between.
In the last drawing (Fig. 86), the preparation of the cage-target
is seen quite complete, and the operator is ready to hook the links
he is holding to the hooks on the hanging chain. These hooks are
small enough to be mistaken for links a short distance away.
When the assistant pulls the thread, the clock-spring is drawn over
the head of the match. This lights the flash-paper. The pull, being
continued, draws out the steel wire and thus releases the blind, which

flies back to its place. Simultaneously, the links being freed allow the
cage to drop over and hang from its proper handle. Finally, the
back, front, bottom, and sides fall down into their places.
The small cage is arranged with the false piece fastened up in the
top, and a duplicate canary is placed within.

The candle lamp is filled with bicycle-lamp oil, and the wick is
carefully trimmed.
INSTRUCTIONS
(1) Having rolled the piece of flash-paper into the shape of a
cornucopia, the performer holds it in the left hand. He then hooks
THE PHOENIX 311
the little finger of the same hand into the wire handle on the top
of the cage, and turns the cage round so that the wooden back faces
the audience. The ostensible reason for turning the cage is to open
the door for the purpose of catching the bird. The conjurer opens
the door with his right hand, while the left hand is employed in
releasing the false top. There must be no hesitation, and no undue
haste. The moment the cage is turned, the left hand leaves the handle
and takes hold of the projecting ring and, pulling it, gently lowers
the square of wood, thus covering the bird. Simultaneously, the little
door is thrown open, and a pretense is made of catching the bird with
the right hand. The left hand (which, even to a keen observer, has
apparently been lowered only for the purpose of steadying the cage
while the catch is being undone) now returns to the wire handle, and
again twists the cage front to the audience, showing the right hand
inside it. The hand is closed, and appears to contain the canary. It is
immediately withdrawn and raised behind the cage to the mouth
of the bag in the left hand. The fingers are inserted, and lightly tap
the inside of the bag and rustle the paper to imitate the movements
of a fluttering bird. Now both hands are brought away from the
apparently empty cage, and the right hand finishes the deception
by withdrawing from the bag very quickly and closing the bag with a
twist.
The performer stands 1 at the left side of the table that is on the
prompt side of the stage. Thus his body masks the operation of low­
ering the false top from that side, and when he turns the cage round
he must twist it a little to his left so that the other end is also safe.
(2) The end of the bag is tucked under the steel wire, and close to
the match. The assistant now hands the performer the gun, and takes
away the empty cage.
(3) On hearing the report, the assistant pulls the line attached to
the lamp, and draws it quickly into the tube forming the dummy
candle and holds it there.
(4) He releases the line slowly; too sudden a jerk would probably
put out the light.
(5) At the next and third shot, he pulls the line which lights the
match, releases the blind, and allows the cage to open.
1 That is to say, he stands between the table and the center of the stage, which
(as the author has said) is “at the left side of the table” as seen by the audience. The
table in question is on the (English) “prompt side” of the stage (the right side, again
as viewed from the auditorium). P.F.
INDEX
INDEX1
Acoustic principles, 143, 144 finger palm, 202
Aerial Suspension, The, cited, 140 regular palm, 201
Aerial Treasury, The, cited, 43, 123, 125, single transfer, 203
127 Bird tricks, 290-311
Analysis of magic, 113-116 Bird-cage, and target, 306-310
manipulative, 113, 114 for production, 295-298, 306-310
mental, 113, 114 for vanishing bird, 305, 306, 311
physical, 113-115 “Black art,” cited, 141
Anderson, John Henry, cited, 251 Box Trick, The, cited, 39, 47, 139
Annals of Conjuring, The (Clarke), cited, Browning, Robert, quoted, 35
xi
Annemann, Theodore, Full Hand of Im­ Cabinet Trick, The, cited, 39
promptu Card Tricks, cited, 174 Cannon-ball and Rabbit, The, cited, 57
Anticlimax, 56-58 explained, 270-281
Aristotle, on art, 6 Card tricks, 171-181, 216-218
on diction, 90 bibliographical index of, 181-193
on justification, 38 Hoffmann’s list of, 181-193
on unity, 20 Rising Cards, The, 216-218
Art, Aristotle on, 6 switching deck of cards, 181
commercial value of, 8 Triangle, The, 171-181
degrees in, 6-19 with large cards, 216-218
false, 8-10 with numbered cards, 216-218
high, 16-18 Castle of Cards, The, described, 174, 175
imitation in, 8-10 Catching Money in the Air, cited, 43
normal, 10-13 See also Coin-catching.
true, 10, 14 Chapender, Martin, cited, 290-292
Art in magic, 3-104 Charlatanism in magic, 110, 111
artistic principles, 101-104 Chemical principles, 148-150
climax, 54-63 Chiaroscuro, 142
consistency, 29-35 Chinese Rings, The, cited, 138, 139, 290
degrees in, 6-19 Clark, Owen, cited, 283
justification, 36-41 Clarke, Sidney W., The Annals of Con­
mental attitude, 98-100 juring, quoted, xi
patter, 84-93 Cleopatra’s Needle, cited, 140
personality, 94-97 Climax, and anticlimax, 56-58
presentation, 64-69 drama vs. magic, 54, 55
real secrets of magic, 3-5 in magic, 54-63
rehearsal, 70-80 Coat, conjurer’s, 195, 208
repetition, 42-48 Cocon, Le, cited, 140
speed in presentation, 81-83 Codes, in mental magic, cited, 135
stage manner, 94-97 Coin-catching, cited, 43, 123, 125, 127, 195,
surprise, 42-48 282, 283
terminology in, 107-112 Conjurer, Robert-Houdin’s definition of, 6
transition, feats of, 49-53 Consistency in magic, 29-35
unity, 20-28 consistent inconsistency, 31
Artist’s Dream, The, cited, 295 requirements of, 35
Artistic principles, importance of, 101-104 Crystal Casket, The, cited, 147, 164
Culbertson, J. P., cited, 216
Ball tricks, 194-211 use of large cards, 216
Excelsior Billiard Ball Trick, The, Cups and Balls, The, cited, 125, 195
196-211
See also Billiard ball sleights; Multipli­ Decanter and Handkerchief Trick, The,
cation. cited, 47
Bell trick. See Homing Bells. De Kolta, Buatier, “black art,” cited, 141,
Bertram, Charles, cited, 44 142
Isn’t It Wonderful!, 44 confused with Charles Bertram, 44
Billiard ball sleights, 201-207 handkerchief production, cited, 122
apparent transfers, 204-207 on importance of surprise, 45, 46
double transfer, 203, 204 Tapping Hand, The, cited, 165
1 Prepared by Paul Fleming.

315
316 O U R M A G IC

Vanishing Lady, The, cited, 42, 46 Hartz, Joseph, quoted, 282

Devant, David, appreciation of, xi, xii Hats, straw, 293-295
portrait of, ii Hero of Alexander, cited, 154
preface by, vii-ix Herrmann, Alexander, cited, 233
Disguise, in misdirection, 119-122 Herschell, Dr., cited, 172
Disraeli, Benjamin, quoted, 196 High art, 16-18
Distraction, in misdirection, 117-119 Hilliard, John Northern, Greater Magic,
Dove and rat trick, 290-300 cited, 174
Downs, T. Nelson, cited, 282 Hoffmann, Professor Louis, bibliographical
Drama, and magic, 54-63 index of card tricks, 181-193
Dress, conjurer’s, 195, 208 cited, 42, 108, 174, 198, 233, 258
coat, 195, 208 Later Magic, cited, 257
vest, 195, 207 Modern Magic, cited, 235
More Magic, cited, 264
Educated Fish, The (with fish and letters), on Our Magic, xii, xiii
282-289 on the term “trick,” 108, 109
detailed presentation, 289 Homing Bells (with sleigh-bells), 249-256
equipment for, 286-289 description of, 249-251
patter for, 284-286 detailed presentation, 255, 256
preparations for, 289 equipment for, 252-255
Egg trick, 199, 200, 211 patter for, 250, 251
egg production, 199, 200 preparations for, 255
Egyptian Hall, cited, xi, xii Hugard, Jean, and Braue, Frederick, Ex­
Egyptian Pyramids, The, cited, 264, 282 pert Card Technique, cited, 174
Electrical principles, 145-147 Hunter, G. W., cited, 174
reliability of, 145
Expert Card Technique (Hugard and Imitation, condemnation of, 32, 33, 175
Braue), cited, 174 Inexhaustible Bottle, The, cited, 290
Inventions, magical, 152-168
“Fakey-looking” apparatus, criticism of, a plea for, 166-168
120 practical example of, 158-166
Fakir of Oolu, The, cited, 140 Invisible Orchestra, The, cited, 144
False art, 8-10 Isn’t It Wonderful! (Bertram), cited, 44
in magic, 8
in painting, 8 Justification in magic, 36-41
Feather-flowers, criticism of, 122 Aristotle on, 38
Fish trick, 282-289
Flag production, 257-263 Keene the magician, cited, 216
Fleming, Paul, index by, 315-318 use of large cards, 216
preface by, xi-xiii Kellar, cited, xi, 221
Forcing, of cards, 177, 180, 181 quoted, vi
of a sum, 215, 218, 219 Kipling, Rudyard, quoted, 18
Forgotten Guest, The (with watch and
rabbit), 220-232 Later Magic (Hoffmann), cited, 257
detailed presentation, 230-232 LeRoy, Servais, cited, 282, 283
equipment for, 229 Lesson in Magic, A (with a handkerchief),
patter for, 221-229 233-248
rabbit production, 232 description of, 234, 235
vanish of watch, 232 detailed presentation, 237-248
Four Ace Trick, The, cited, 23 equipment for, 235, 236
Full House of Impromptu Card Tricks Handkerchief and Lemon, The, 233-243
(Annemann), cited, 174
preparations for, 236, 237
Gaultier, Camille, Magic without Appar­ Sun and Moon, 243-248
atus, cited, J74 Linking Rings, The, cited, 138, 139, 290
Germain, Karl, cited, 221, 233 Lynn, “Dr.”, cited, 44
Ghost Illusion, The, cited, 39
Pepper’s Ghost, cited, 49 McLavy, Jeanne, drawings by, xii
Goldston, Will, Great Tricks Revealed, Magic, art in, 3-104
quoted, xi practice of, 171-311
Great Tricks Revealed (Goldston), cited, xi theory of, 107-168
Greater Magic (Hilliard), cited, 174 tricks. See Practice of magic.
Growth of Flowers, The, cited, 49, 290 See also Art in magic; Practice of magic;
Theory of magic.
Handkerchief and Decanter Trick, The, Magic Kettle, The, cited, 124
cited, 47 Magic Wand, The, cited, xi-xiii
Handkerchief and Lemon, The, 233-243 Magic without Apparatus (Gaultier), cited,
See also Lesson in Magic, The. 174
INDEX 317
Manipulative magic, 113, 114 ungrammatical, 87-90
See also Manipulative principles. Pepper’s Ghost, cited, 49, 141
Manipulative principles, 130-134 Permanence of Retinal Impression, The,
concealment, 131 described, 172, 173
false handling, 132, 133 Phoenix, The (with canary and target),
interposition, 131, 132 301-311
prearrangement, 130 detailed presentation, 310, 311
Maskelyne, John Nevil, cited, xi equipment for, 305, 306
Maskelyne, Nevil, appreciation of, xi patter for, 303-305
preface by, vii-ix preparations for, 306-310
Mechanical principles, 138-140 Physical magic, 113-115
Mental attitude, magician’s, 98-100 acoustic, 143, 144
Mental magic, 113, 114 chemical, 148-150
divination, 137 electrical, 145-147
memorization, 136, 137 inventions, magical, 152-168
thought transference, 135, 136 mechanical, 138-140
Misdirection, 117-124 molecular, 150
Coin-catching, cited, 123 optical, 141, 142
De Kolta’s handkerchief production, Point of View, The (with doves and rats),
cited, 122 290-300
De Kolta’s Vanishing Lady, cited, 123 detailed presentation, 299, 300
disguise, 119-122 equipment for, 293-298
distraction, 117-119 patter for, 292, 293
Magic Kettle, The, cited, 124 preparations for, 298
simulation, 122-124 Pope, Alexander, quoted, 22
Modern Magic (Hoffmann), cited, 235, 264 Powell, Frederick Eugene, cited, 233
Molecular principles, 150 Practice of magic, 171-311
More Magic (Hoffmann), cited, 264 Handkerchief and Lemon, The, 233-243
Multiplication (with billiard balls), 194- Rising Cards, The, 216-218
211 Slate Trick, The, 214, 216
and egg production, 199, 200 Sun and Moon, 243-248
detailed presentation, 208-211 with a handkerchief, 233-248
equipment for, 201 with a watch, 220-232
patter for, 196, 197, 199 with billiard balls, 196-211
preparations for, 207, 208 with canary and target, 301-311
sleights employed in, 201-207 with cards, 171-181
use of ivory balls, 196 with doves and rats, 290-300
See also Billiard ball sleights. with eggs, 199, 200, 211
with figures, 212-219
National Colors, The (with flags), 257-263 with fish and letters, 282-289
detailed presentation, 259-263 with flags, 257-263
equipment for, 258, 259 with liquids, 264-269
preparations for, 259 with numbered cards, 216-219
Nervousness, avoidance of, 78-80 with rabbit, ball, and hats, 270-281
Normal art, 10-13 with slate, 214, 216
with sleigh-bells, 249-256
“Opposite prompt” side of stage, 274, 298 Preface, to first edition, vii-ix
Optical principles, 141, 142 to second edition, xi-xiii
Presentation of magic, 64-69
Palming. See Billiard ball sleights. and adequate practice, 67-69
Passe-Passe Bottles, The, cited, 138 patter in, 84-93
Patter, appropriateness of, 86 personality and, 64-66, 94-97
in billiard ball trick, 196, 197, 199 silent, 85, 86
in Homing Bells, 250, 251 speed in, 81-83
in Simple Addition, 214-217 stage manner, 94-97
in The Educated Fish, 284-286 “Prompt” side of stage, 196, 274, 311
in The Phoenix, 303-305
in The Point of View, 292, 293 Rabbit, multiplication, 281
in The Three Vases, 255, 256 production from coat of spectator, 232
in The Triangle, 177, 179 production from lady’s boa, 279
in The Silver Ball, 273-275 reproduction, 280
in watch and rabbit trick, 221-229 vanish, 280
need for, 84-86 Rabbit trick. See Forgotten Guest, The;
objectionable types of, 91-93 Silver Ball, The.
repetition of catchword, 44 Rat and dove trick, 290-300
silent presentation, 85, 86 Rehearsal, 70-80
styles of, 86, 87 im p ro p e r m e th o d s o f, 7 2 -7 4
318 OUR MAGIC
Tapping Hand, The, cited, 165
Leo Tolstoy on, 72, 73 Tarbell, Harlan, The Tarbell Course in
over-rehearsal, 71
requirements of, 74-78 Magic, cited, 174
Repetition, and surprise, 42-48
Tarbell Course in Magic, The (Tarbell),
in coin-catching, 43 cited, 174
Terminology in magic, 107-112, 113-116
in patter, 44
Rising Cards, The, cited, 39, 140, 165, 171 “experiment,” 111
explained, 216-218 “feat,” 111
Robert-Houdin, Jean Eugene, cited, 6, 251 "magic,” 109, 110
Crystal Casket, The, cited, 147, 164 “trick,” 108, 109, 111, 112
definition of a conjurer, 6, 85, 95 Theory of magic, 107-168
electrical magic, 145 acoustic principles, 143, 144
Rules of magic, specific, 19, 21, 22, 23, 30, analysis, general, 113-116
35. 37, 41, 44. 45, 51, 57, 58, 60, 62, chemical principles, 148-150
electrical principles, 145-147
66, 67, 70
magical inventions, 152-168
Sachs, Edwin T., Sleight-of-Hand, cited, manipulative principles, 130-134
233, 235
Secrets of magic, real, 3-5
mechanical principles, 138-140
mental magic, principles of, 135-137
Shakespeare, William, quoted, 16, 26, 52, misdirection, 117-124
99
Sidney, Sir Philip, quoted, 18
molecular principles, 150
optical principles, 141, 142
Silent presentation, 85, 86 physical magic, principles of, 138-151
Silver Ball, The (with rabbit, ball, and styles of magic, 125-129
hats), 270-281 terminology, 107-112
description of, 270-273 See also Analysis of magic; Manipulative
detailed presentation, 278-281 principles; Mental magic; Misdirec­
equipment for, 275-278 tion; Physical magic; Styles of magic;
patter for, 273-275 Terminology in magic.
rabbit multiplication, 281 Three Vases, The (with liquids), 264-269
rabbit production, 279 detailed presentation, 268, 269
rabbit vanish, 280 equipment for, 266-268
Simple Addition (with figures), 212-219 patter for, 265, 266
detailed presentation, 219 preparations for, 268
equipment for, 217-219 Tolstoy, Count Leo, on rehearsal, 72, 73
patter for, 214-217 Torn Card, The, cited, 171
Rising Cards, The, 216-218 Transition, feats of, 49-53
Slate Trick, The, 214, 216 Triangle, The (with cards), 171-181
use of large cards, 216 detailed presentation, 180, 181
Simulation, in misdirection, 122-124 equipment for, 175, 180
Slate Trick, The, cited, 39 forcing of cards, 177, 180, 181
explained, 214, 216 patter for, 177, 179
Sleights, billiard ball, 201-207 switching of deck, 181
See also Billiard ball sleights. Trick, clarification of the term, 108, 109,
Sleight-of-Hand (Sachs), cited, 233, 235 112, 116
Speaking Head, The, cited, 144 True art, 10, 14
Speed in presentation, 81-83
Sphinx, The, cited, 141 Unity in magic, 20-28
Stage manner, 94-97 Aristotle on, 20
Steam-engine, development of, 154, 155
Styles of magic, 125-129
difficulties of classification, 125, 129 Valadon, Paul, cited, 221
parlor vs. stage, 126-128 Vanishing Lady, The, cited, 39, 46, 123
sleight-of-hand vs. apparatus, 125 Verbeck the magician, cited, 171
Sun and Moon, 243-248 novel card trick, cited, 171
See also Lesson in Magic, A. Vest, conjurer’s, 195, 207
Surprise, and repetition, 42-48
Box Trick, The, cited, 47 Watch trick. See Forgotten Guest, The.
Decanter and Handkerchief Trick, The, Watt, James, cited, 154, 155
cited, 47 Williams, Oswald, cited, 250
De Kolta on, 45, 46 Wine and Milk Trick, The, cited, 23, 24
Switching deck of cards, 181 explained, 264-269