From the same superstition, metals and stones were supposed to be endowed with singular virtues: the opal, to grow pale at the touch of poison; the emerald, to remove intoxication; and the carbuncle, “only to be found in the head of the dragon, the hideous inhabitant of the island of Ceylon,” to shine in the darkness. As the metal called gold always bore the highest value, it was concluded, from an absurd analogy, that its power to preserve health and cure disease must likewise surpass that of all other applications. Multitudes gave themselves to busy idleness in attempting to render it potable, and to prevent it from again being converted into metal. Not only did they labour in obscure situations, but in the splendid laboratories of nobles and sovereigns. Men of rank, impelled by one common frenzy, formed secret alliances; and even proceeded to such extravagance as to bring ruinous debts on themselves and their posterity. The object of which they were in pursuit was “an elixir of life.”
In Italy, Germany, France, and other countries, the common people often denied themselves the necessaries of life, to save as much as would purchase a few drops of the tincture of gold, which was superstitiously or fraudulently offered for sale. So fully did they confide in the efficacy of this imaginary power, that on it generally depended their only hope of recovery. Positively was the desired boon promised, but only to mock expectation. Our times are in the hands of God; and at his will the dust returns to the dust from whence it was taken, and the spirit to him who gave it.
How fearful was the ignorance that prevailed in the bygone times to which a reference has been made! What gratitude should we feel for the advantages we enjoy! Let us, then, constantly remember that as to us much has been given, so of us much will be required; and that one kind of knowledge surpasses all others: “This,” said the adorable Redeemer, “is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent,” John xvii. 3.
CHAPTER II.
Feats of modern magicians—Their wonders explained—The snake-charmers of India—A Chinese delusion—The magician of Cairo.
Wonder-workers have often appeared. Some of them have lately repeated their most remarkable feats in London and various places in England, varied by others of inferior interest. Large and astonished assemblies have witnessed their performance, and public journals have described them as absolutely “inexplicable.” And yet, though the writer has no personal acquaintance with any modern “magician,” he has no doubt that all their feats may be accounted for, from sleight-of-hand, confederacy, ingenious contrivance, or the application of some natural law. A few illustrations shall now be given.
Many delusions are entirely dependent on sleight-of-hand; a rapidity of manipulation being attained by long practice, as in the marvellous movements of the fingers of a highly accomplished instrumental performer; while the power may become so great as to defy the observation of the acutest vision. The late Mr. Walker, minister at Demattar, in the Mears, told sir Walter Scott of a young country girl, who threw turf, stones, and other missiles, with such dexterity, that it was, for a time, impossible to ascertain the agency employed in the disturbances of which she was the sole cause.
A friend of the writer has a remarkable nicety of touch, and, at pleasure, a rapid movement of the hands, by which he can rival many magical feats. Thus he conveys balls under cups, and appears to change them into fruit, to the astonishment of lookers-on. He also takes two horn cups of exactly the same size, and produces the impression that he causes one to fall through the other, when this is impossible, and all that is done is effected by dexterous and rapid manipulation, illustrating the proverb, “The hand is quicker than the eye.”
Many astounding feats, which form a part of all popular magical exhibitions, are performed by this leger-de-main. Apparently, the performer receives a lady’s wedding-ring and breaks it in pieces; burns a five-pound note handed to him by a spectator; reduces a hat to a hideous shape; or crushes a bonnet into fragments, and then restores them uninjured to the respective parties, amidst the acclamations of the multitude. But all that is done is with indescribable rapidity to substitute articles of his own to undergo the process of destruction, and, at the right moment, to exhibit those which have been presented by the spectators, and are preserved in safety.
Another cause of wonderment is confederacy. A modern performer has been accustomed to hand a box to one of his audience, requesting that in it might be placed any article that he had, and that it might be passed on from one to another for the same purpose. While this has been done, he has proceeded to his table, and apparently waited the filling of the box. At length, while the box has been held up at a distance, he has placed his rod to his eye and described the collection that has been made. He has said, perhaps, “I can see in that box a piece of ribbon, a lozenge, a few grains, part, I dare say, of a pinch of snuff, and a lady’s card; I will try and read it—Miss—Clara—Henderson;” and so he passes through the chief part of the series. And yet, as his patrons look on with astonishment, they do not think of what is most likely to be the fact, that a confederate, sitting as one of the audience, made a list of the articles as they were deposited in the box, and despatched it in portions or altogether, so that their names might reach the eye of the performer from some part of his table.