THE BLACK ART.
The black art, as the art of magic is termed, has arrived at a degree
of perfection that is amazing. The magicians of the Orient for a long
time were held up as superior to any rivals outside their country. They
sat in the streets, and without paraphernalia caused flowers to burst
from pots of earth and spring into instantaneous growth; they had their
then wonderful basket trick, in which a boy, having entered a basket,
to all appearances just large enough to receive him, remained there
while the magician ran his sword through the basket in all directions,
after which the boy came forth unharmed; there were sword swallowers
among them, and altogether their skill in and knowledge of the art of
mystifying was considered beyond reproach. The Chinese, too, profess
to be good jugglers and magicians, and so they are. But the Europeans
and the Americans have stepped in, and the Hindoo and the Chinaman may
now go to the rear in magic. Houdin, Heller, Macallister, and Hermann
have done tricks far superior to anything the Eastern wonder-workers
are capable of, either in the way of mechanical intricacy or manual
dexterity. The latter feature is cultivated entirely, and you no
longer see the magician's stage covered high and low with glittering
paraphernalia, whose brightness was beautifully set off by the black
velvet hangings in the background. Now there is nothing presented to
the view of the audience except a small table in the centre of the
stage. Taking Mr. Hermann, for example: This magician comes out in full
evening dress, with coat sleeves pushed back revealing his immaculate
shirt cuffs and gorgeous sleeve buttons. Whatever articles he will
inject into his tricks he carries in the capacious pockets of his coat
or in the palm of his hand. He introduces himself pleasantly to the
audience in his broken English, and at once the performance begins.
From that time on until the last illusion is given the audience remains
in darkness as to his methods. He seldom leaves the stage, going only
up to the last entrance, where, by standing against the projecting wing
his confederate can fill his pockets with what he needs. A magician's
coat looks like a very common-place effort at the swallow-tail article.
That's all it is exteriorly, but if you get a glimpse of the side the
lining is on, you will find from eight to a dozen large and small
pockets in the garment. Two of the pockets are huge affairs, running
from the front edge back under the arms, thus leaving a wide mouth, so
that large articles can quickly be dropped into them.
Hermann is a great trickster, not only on the stage, but off. He walked
into a barber-shop in Memphis one day, went up to the place where the
razors were kept, and taking up one, calmly cut his throat, standing
before the glass after the gash had been made, and with evident
pleasure regarding the profuse flow of blood from the wound. The
barbers and their customers ran wildly into the streets yelling like a
tribe of Feejees around a barbecue of roast missionary. They called the
police, and raised a small riot in their immediate neighborhood. The
police came and entered the shop, only to find Hermann coming forward
to greet them, laughing and remarking that it was only a little
practical joke. There was not the slightest sign of any wound upon his
throat, and it was only when the barbers were told that it was Hermann,
the magician, that they could be brought to believe that he had not
really cut his throat through, and then by some wonderful healing art
closed the gap again.
[Illustration: HERMANN'S "SELL."]
During his engagement in New York last season, the famous magician
demoralized a waiter and the proprietor of a German beer saloon by
making the foaming glass appear and disappear, and in receiving the
accurate change of a five-dollar note counted it before the chagrined
proprietor and made it appear that the amount returned was $12, which
he coolly pocketed. But his best trick was the "sell" he perpetrated
on the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. He had it
announced that he would resume his old feat of blowing a child from
a cannon, and making it appear safe and sound in the gallery of the
theatre. This set the society in arms at once. He was notified that
if he tried it the child (an apprentice) would be taken from him. He
replied that he was going to rehearse the feat on Thursday morning,
anyhow; whereupon an agent of the society, with a writ of _habeas
corpus_, rushed upon the scene. Just as he was about to ram the child
into the piece of heavy ordnance aimed at the gallery of the Grand
Opera House, the agent seized it and a tussel ensued between him
and the magician. In the pulling and hauling one of the legs of the
disputed youngster came off, and it was discovered that it was only a
gigantic, well-made-up doll. The agent escaped amid roars of laughter,
leaving his trophy behind. The press, too, had been sold by the trick,
so none of the papers published the item.
Much as Hermann has sold others, he has been pretty badly sold himself.
I remember one night while Hermann was playing South, and doing his
cabinet trick, some of the boys around the theatre put up a job on
him that resulted disastrously as far as the trick was concerned.
The cabinet is a large contrivance greatly resembling the huge
refrigerators in use in grocery stores, and some who know, say, bearing
a great resemblance to saloon refrigerators. It has a false back and
is so constructed that one or more persons may be hidden in the rear
compartment. In the trick Hermann makes use of two colored boys, who
must be alike in size and facial appearance. Only one of the boys
figures in the trick at first, going through a funny bit of play and
dialogue with the magician, until at last he leaves the stage to get a
knife with which to combat a big monkey that has been locked up in the
cabinet. When boy No. 1 goes off the stage for a knife boy No. 2 comes
back with it and is hurriedly pushed into the cabinet. Meanwhile boy
No. 1 has left the stage-door and is running fast as he can around the
block. The magician after standing at the cabinet a few minutes--just
long enough to allow boy No. 1 to get to the front entrance of the
theatre--opens the door, and lo! boy No. 2 is gone. "Boyee! Boy-ee!"
the magician shouts, "Say boy-ee w'ere are you, boy-ee?" "Here I is,
boss," the boy shouts, rushing breathlessly up the aisle. The trick
surprises everybody, and is a good one. On the occasion I refer to, the
"boys" got a policeman to arrest the lad while he was running around
from the back to the front door. The blue-coat took him to the station
and Hermann shouted in vain for his "boy-ee," and was finally obliged
to close the trick without the appearance of his darkey confederate.
As I have spoken above about the jugglers and tricksters of the Orient
I may as well say that I witnessed the performances of the trickster
who was in Harry French's Hindoo troupe. There was nothing marvellous
in his feats, the boy-and-basket trick alone being the only thing of
an astonishing character that he presented, and that being susceptible
of easy explanation, the boy being light and supple and capable of
moving or contracting his body so as to keep out of the way of the
sword thrusts, which by the way were not of a violent character. In a
private entertainment given by this juggler he appeared more awkward
and clumsier than many an amateur who undertakes to furnish a parlor
entertainment for his friends. It was evident that he would undergo
suffering and pain for the success of a trick, as he took an ordinary
wooden tooth-pick and while pretending to push it, in its entirety,
into one corner of his eye, actually did push part of it in, not having
broken it off short enough in the process of concealing it. Again
he swallowed a yard of black thread, and taking a knife cut a small
opening in his side and brought forth a yard of black thread that had,
of course, been concealed there beforehand. The thread was bloody and
was drawn slowly from its place of concealment.
A correspondent writing from China about the street jugglers to be
seen there, says: "Sword-swallowing and stone-eating appear to be
the commonest feats, and operators of this description may be found
in almost every street. One fellow, however, performed a number of
feats in front of our hotel, which demand from me more than a passing
notice. He stationed himself in the middle of the street, and having
blown a bugle-blast to give warning that he was about to begin his
entertainment, he took a small lemon or orange tree, which was covered
with fruit, and balanced it upon his head. He then blew a sort of
chirruping whistle, when immediately a number of rice birds came from
every direction, and settled upon the boughs of the bush he balanced
or fluttered about his head. He then took a cup in his hand, and began
to rattle some seeds in it, when the birds disappeared. Taking a small
bamboo tube, he next took the seeds and putting, one in it blew it at
one of the fruit, when it opened and out flew one of the birds, which
fluttered about the circle surrounding the performer. He continued
to shoot the seeds at the oranges until nearly a dozen birds were
released. He then removed the tree from his forehead, and setting it
down, took up a dish, which he held above his head, when all the birds
flew into it, then covered it over with a cover, and giving it a whirl
or two about his head, opened it and displayed a quantity of eggs,
the shells of which he broke with a little stick, releasing a bird
from each shell. The trick was neatly performed, and defied detection
from my eyes. The next trick was equally astonishing and difficult of
detection. Borrowing a handkerchief from one of his spectators, he took
an orange, cut a small hole in it, then squeezed all the juice out,
and crammed the handkerchief into it. Giving the orange to a bystander
to hold, he caught up a teapot and began to pour a cup of tea from it,
when the spout became clogged. Looking into the pot, apparently to
detect what was the matter, he pulled out the handkerchief and returned
it to the owner. He next took the orange from the bystander and cut it
open, when it was found to be full of rice."
Two of the finest tricks now on the stage are the ærial suspension and
the Indian box-trick. The latter I explain in the next chapter. The
ærial suspension, which is best seen in Prof. Seeman's performances,
consists in apparently mesmerizing a young lady while she is standing
on a stool between two upright bars, upon each of which she rests an
elbow. When she is in the mesmeric state the stool is removed, leaving
her suspended upon both elbows; then one of the bars--that under the
left elbow--is removed, and the fair subject still remains motionless,
her entire weight resting upon the elbow of the right arm, which is
extended out from the body, with the hand thrown easily and gracefully
against the cheek. Next, her figure is pushed out from the bar through
various angles, until at last she reclines upon her strange ærial
couch, which is scarcely more than one inch in diameter. The illusion
is a beautiful one, and astonishes all who see it. Occasionally the
creaking of the steel joints under the elbow is heard out in the
audience, "giving away" the feat, for the actual fact is that the young
lady is not in a mesmeric condition, but is held in position by a steel
armor worn under her costume, with a joint at the elbow that fits into
the upright bar, where a powerful system of leverage holds the body in
any position desired.
Hermann's bird trick is a fine one. He comes before the audience
with a living bird in a small cage held between both hands, and
"Wan! Two! T'ree!" with a sudden movement, and without turning away
from the audience spreads his arms, when, lo! the bird and cage have
disappeared. The explanation given by some is that the cage is made of
rubber, which, when released envelopes the bird in a sort of sack which
flies up the magician's sleeve.
Nearly every young man in the land who has seen a magician on the
stage, wants to master the black art. It is very easy for him to do so.
All he needs is a great deal of what is vulgarly known as "cheek," and
termed in theatrical slang, "gall," a quick eye, and ease and rapidity
of movement in handling articles. The first thing to be learned is the
art of "palming"--concealing small objects in the palm of the hand.
Coins, balls, handkerchiefs, etc., are hidden in this way, being held
in the open hand by the pressure of the fleshy part of the thumb. In
this way the shower of coin and many like tricks are done. When the art
of "palming" is understood, rapidity of movement is the next thing, and
then come the mechanical and other tricks.
Only the old-school magicians--the fakirs--retain the fire-eating
trick in their entertainments. Any school-boy can do it now, as the
preparation for it is very simple. By anointing the tongue with
liquid storax, a red-hot poker may be licked cool, or coals taken
from the fire may be placed upon the tongue and left there until they
become black. To any person who has an appetite for flames, or for
whom five-cent whiskey is not fiery enough, a trial of this trick
will be gratifying. And should there be a desire to walk on fire or
on red-hot iron, let the aspiring salamander take half an ounce of
camphor, dissolve it in two ounces of aqua vitæ, add to it one ounce
of quicksilver, one ounce of liquid storax, which is the droppings of
myrrh, and prevents the camphor from firing; take also two ounces of
hematis, which is red stone, to be had at the druggist's. Let them beat
it to a powder in their great mortar, for being very hard it cannot
well be reduced in a small one; add this to the ingredients already
specified, and when the walking is to be done anoint the feet with the
preparation, when the trick may be accomplished without the slightest
danger.
If anybody desires to be ghastly in his trickery, he may cut a man's
head off and put it in a platter a yard from his body. This is done
by causing a board, a cloth, and a platter to be purposely made with
holes in each to fit a boy's neck. The board must be made of two
planks, the longer and broader the better; there must be left within
half a yard of the end of each plank half a hole, that both the planks
being put together, there may remain two holes like those in a pair of
stocks. There must be made, likewise, a hole in the cloth; a platter
having a hole of the same size in the middle, and having a piece taken
out at one side the size of the neck, so that he may place his head
above; must be set directly over it; then the boy sitting or kneeling
under the board must let the head only remain upon the board in the
frame. To make the sight more dreadful, put a little brimstone into
a chafing-dish of coals, and set it before the head of the boy, who
must gasp two or three times that the smoke may enter his nostrils and
mouth, and the head presently will appear stark dead, and if a little
blood be sprinkled on his face, the sight will appear more dreadful.
This is commonly practised with boys instructed for that purpose. At
the other end of the table, where the other hole is made, another boy
of the same size as the first boy must be placed, his body on the table
and his head through the hole in the table, at the opposite end to
where the head is which is exhibited.