The preparation of coffee, milk, and sugar, may be easily explained; for if the vessels containing respectively the unground coffee, the rape-seed, and the horse-beans, always placed under a cover, be put on a part of the table having a circular trap-door—and for this there is full provision in the cover of the table extending to the floor—a confederate may readily substitute one for the other.
The Rev. W. Arthur, in his work on the Mysore, directs us to results of a different kind:—“Whilst walking in the verandah,” he says, “some snake-charmers approached, and forthwith began to show us their skill. They produced several bags and baskets, containing serpents of the most poisonous kind—the cobra di capello; then blew upon an instrument shaped like a cocoa-nut, with a short tube inserted, and producing music closely allied to that of the bag-pipe. The animals were brought forth, raised themselves to the music, spread out their head, showing the spectacle mask fully distended, and waved about with considerable grace, and little appearance of venom. The men coquetted with them, and coiled them about their persons, without any sign of either dislike or fear. This power of dealing with creatures so deadly is ascribed by the natives to magic. Europeans generally account for it by saying that the fangs are extracted. But the most reasonable explanation seems to be, that when the snake is first caught, by a dexterous movement of the charmer, the hand is slipped along the body, until it reaches the neck, which he presses so firmly, as to compel an ejection of the virus; thus destroying, for a time, all power to harm; and that this operation is repeated as often as is necessary, to prevent the dangerous accumulation. If this be true—and I believe it is—nothing is necessary to the safe handling of these reptiles, but a knowledge of the laws which regulate the venomous secretion. The wonder seems to lie in the power they possess of attracting the snakes by their rude music, and seizing them in the first instance. But enough is known to make it evident that, in what all natives and many Europeans regard as mysterious and magical, there is nothing but experience, tact, and courage.”
A strange and repulsive feat is thus described by the Rev. G. Smith, in his recent work on “China.” “Aquei conducted us into a room, where he was sitting with his two wives, handsomely attired, looking from a window on the crowd assembled in the street to witness the performances of a native juggler. The latter, after haranguing the crowd with much animation in the Nanking dialect, (as is usual with actors,) proceeded to one part of the crowd, and took thence a child, apparently five or six years old, who, with struggling resistance, was led into the centre of the circle. The man then, with impassioned gesture, violently threw the child on a wooden stool, and, placing him on his back, flourished over him a large knife; the child all the time sobbing and crying as if from fright. Two or three older men from the crowd approached, with earnest remonstrances against the threatened deed of violence. For a time, he desisted, but, soon after, returning to the child, who was still uttering most pitiable cries, he placed him with his back upwards, and, notwithstanding the violent protests of the seniors, he suddenly dashed the knife into the back of the child’s neck, which it appeared to enter till it had almost divided it from the head; the blood meanwhile flowing copiously from the wound, and streaming to the ground, and over the hands of the man. The struggle of the child grew more and more feeble, and at last altogether ceased. The man then arose, leaving the knife firmly fixed in the child’s neck. Copper cash was then thrown liberally into the ring, for the benefit of the principal actors. These were collected by assistants, all of them viewing the influx of the coins with great delight, and bowing continually to the spectators, and reiterating the words, ‘To seoz,’ ‘Many thanks.’ After a time, the man proceeded towards the corpse, pronounced a few words, took away the knife, and called aloud to the child. Soon there appeared the signs of returning animation. The stiffness of death gradually relaxed, and at last he stood up among the eager crowd, who closed around him, and bountifully rewarded him with cash. The performance was evidently one which excited delight in the bystanders, who, by their continued shouts, showed their approbation of the acting.”
It is almost superfluous to add, that the deception consisted in the construction of the blade and the handle of the knife, so that, by making a sawing motion on the throat of the child, a stream of coloured liquid, resembling blood, is pumped out; a little acting on the part of the performer and the child is amply sufficient for all the rest.
Within the last few years, we have had accounts of a magician in Egypt, first described in a valuable work on that country by Mr. Lane, which produced an extraordinary impression. The magician, it was said, caused a boy to see certain persons called for, in a little ink, placed in his hand, in the centre of a double magic square, somewhat like the figure. One of the most profound writers of the age even wrote: “There will be no lack of confidence to pronounce; and the authority so pronouncing will assume the name and tone of philosophy, that there was nothing more in the whole matter than artful contrivance; that there was no intervention of an intelligent agency extraneous to that of the immediate ostensible agent. But can this assumption be made on any other ground than a prior general assumption that there is no such preternatural intervention in the system of the world? But how to know that there is not? The negative decision pronounced in confident ignorance, is a conceited impertinence, which ought to be rebuked by that philosophy whose oracles it is affecting to utter. For what any man knows, or can know, there may be such intervention. That it is not incompatible with the constitution of the world, is an unquestionable fact with the unsophisticated believers in the sacred records. And not a few occurrences in later history have totally defied every attempt at explanation in any other way.”[A]
And yet sir Gardiner Wilkinson, who subsequently travelled in Egypt, and visited the magician, says:—
“On going to see him, I was determined to examine the matter with minute attention, at the same time that I divested myself of every previous bias, either for or against his pretended powers. A party having been made up to witness the exhibition, we met, according to previous agreement, at Mr. Lewis’s house on Wednesday evening, the 8th of December. The magician was ushered in, and having taken his place, we all sat down, some before him, others by his side. The party consisted of colonel Barnet, our consul-general, Mr. Lewis, Dr. Abbott, Mr. Samuel, Mr. Christian, M. Prisse, with another French gentleman, and myself, four of whom understood Arabic very well; so that we had no need of any interpreter. The magician, after entering into conversation with many of us on different subjects, and discussing two or three pipes, prepared for the performance. He first of all requested that a brazier of live charcoal should be brought him, and, in the mean while, occupied himself in writing upon a long slip of paper five sentences of two lines each, then two others, one of a single line, and the other of two, as an invocation to the spirits. Every sentence began with ‘Tuyurshoon.’ Each was separated from the one above and below it by a line, to direct him in tearing them apart. A boy was then called, who was ordered to sit down before the magician. He did so, and the magician having asked for some ink from Mr. Lewis, traced with a pen on the palm of his right hand a double square, containing the nine numbers in this order, or in English—making fifteen each way; the centre one being five—the evil number. This I remarked to the magician, but he made no reply. A brazier was brought and placed between the magician and the boy, who was ordered to look stedfastly into the ink, and report what he should see. I begged the magician to speak slowly enough to give me time to write down every word, which he promised to do, without being displeased at the request; nor had he objected, during the preliminary part of the performance, to my attempt to sketch him as he sat. He now began an incantation, calling on the spirits by the power of ‘our lord Soolayman,’ with the words ‘tuyurshoon’ and ‘haderoo’ (be present) frequently repeated.
“He then muttered words to himself, and tearing apart the different sentences he had written, he put them, one after another, into the fire, together with some frankincense. This done, he asked the boy if any one had come. Boy. ‘Yes, many.’—Magician. ‘Tell them to sweep.’—B. ‘Sweep.’—M. ‘Tell them to bring the flags.’—B. ‘Bring the flags.’—M. ‘Have they brought any?’—B. ‘Yes.’—M. ‘O, what colour?’—B. ‘Green.’—M. ‘Say, Bring another.’—B. ‘Bring another.’—M. ‘Has it come?’—B. ‘Yes, a green one.’—M. ‘Another.’—B. ‘Another.’—M. ‘Is it brought?’—B. ‘Yes, another green one—they are all green.’ This boy was then sent away, and another was brought, who had never before seen the magician, having been chosen with another, by Mr. Lewis, on purpose; but after many incantations, incense, and long delay, he could see nothing, and fell asleep over the ink. The other boy was then called in, but he, like the other, could not be made to see anything; and a fourth was brought in, who had evidently acted his part before. He first saw a shadow, and was ordered to ‘tell him to sleep;’ and, after the flags and the sultan as usual, some one suggested that lord Fitzroy Somerset should be called for. He was described in a white Frank dress, a long, high, white hat, black stockings, and white gloves, tall, and standing before him with black boots. I asked how he could see his stockings with boots? The boy answered, ‘Under his trowsers.’ He continued, ‘His eyes are white, moustaches, no beard, but little whiskers, and yellow or light hair; he is thin, thin legs, thin arms; in his left hand he holds a stick, and in the other a pipe; he has a black handkerchief round his neck, his throat buttoned up, his trowsers are long, he wears green spectacles.’ The magician, seeing some of the party smiling at the description and its inaccuracies, said to the boy, ‘Don’t tell lies, boy.’ To which he answered, ‘I do not; why should I?’—M. ‘Tell him to go.’—B. ‘Go.’ Queen Victoria was next called for, who was described as short, dressed in black trowsers, a white hat, black shoes, white gloves, red coat, with lining, and black waistcoat, with whiskers, but no beard nor moustaches, and holding in his hand a glass tumbler. He was asked if the person were a man or a woman? He answered, ‘A man.’ We told the magician that it was our queen! He said, ‘I do not know why they should say what is false; I knew she was a woman, but the boys describe as they see.’