The correct method of performing the trick, which has been handed down through generations of Hindoos, is as follows: The boy subject is placed in a net in which he is firmly tied, after having had his big toes and thumbs fastened down with bandages. Then, with many a grunt and a groan, he is lifted into the basket. The subject, however, pretends that the basket is too small, so he is really seated on one side and keeps his back in the air. This is done to give the appearance eventually that it was impossible for him to crouch down or around the basket. The lid of the basket is now placed on his back, and a large sheet is thrown over the entire apparatus, which conceals from the audience every movement made by the subject.
Now commences the Hindoo “patter,” in reality yells, groans, and incantations, while the magician and his assistant strike the basket with swords or canes, stamp on the ground, gnash their teeth, etc. Gradually the cover of the basket sinks until the basket seems empty, to the spectators at least. The fakir now takes off the cover of the basket, leaving the sheet over it, however. Then he jumps into the presumably empty basket, stamps all around, and takes out the net in which are found the turban worn by the subject and the thumb tie. To prove further that the basket is still empty, the fakir seats himself in the basket, as shown in the illustration. The lid of the basket is now replaced, and under this friendly cover the sheet is taken off and the basket tied up.
Now commences the true Hindoo magic. The magician is a real actor. He apparently adjures Mahomet. He gets very angry and with fierce looks, ejaculations, and muttered curses he grabs up a sword or cane and jabs it through different parts of the basket. During all this time the subject, who is something of a contortionist, is wriggling about on the bottom of the basket, keeping out of reach of the sword, and in fact often guiding its thrusts between his legs, as every movement on the part of the fakir has been carefully thought out and rehearsed in advance.
By this time the fakir has convinced his audience that the basket is empty. To be sure he has not allowed any spectators to come too near him or the basket, nor has any hand save his touched it, but his clever acting almost persuades even an intelligent or sceptical onlooker that the basket is empty.
With the lid of the basket replaced, this time above the friendly sheet, and the basket tied, he resumes his weird incantations. He screams and runs back and forth, playing on a small instrument with a hideous tone which is a cross between the whistle of a locomotive with a cold, and a sawed-off and hammered-down flute in which has been inserted a tin whistle. As this nerve-racking music holds the spectators under its awful spell, the basket begins to rock, the contortionist-subject gradually raises himself inside the basket, and when the noise is at its height he straightens up in the basket and raises it with his back as far as it will go. To the uninitiated it actually appears as if he had returned to an empty basket in his original position. The trick is a marvellous deception, but only a Hindoo can exhibit it with success, for no white person would ever indulge in the screechings, imbecilities, and contortions which are the spectacular and convincing features of the trick.
Sometimes the trick is varied. Instead of the subject being found in his original position he is seen running toward the crowd as from a distance. This is accomplished by having two subjects, one in the basket and one hidden on the outskirts of the crowd, who are “doubles” or at least who show a marked resemblance and are dressed exactly alike.
The earliest programmes of Hindoo jugglers in my collection are dated 1818. The “Mr. Ramosamee” featured on this bill later split his name thus, “Ramo Samee,” and was engaged to perform alone between the acts of “The Broken Heart” at the Garrick Theatre, London. From Ramo Samee, Continental and British magicians learned the trick of juggling brass balls.
On page 135 Professor Hoffmann, in a foot-note, commends Robert-Houdin for the very impartial manner in which he approaches the question of spiritualism and spiritualistic manifestations, in his day a comparative novelty: “In default of absolute certainty, he wisely reserves his opinion. Where, however, as in the case of the Davenport Brothers, he had an opportunity of personally observing the alleged ‘phenomena,’ he has neither difficulty in penetrating nor hesitation in denouncing the imposture. We venture to believe that any of the so-called spiritualistic manifestations which had come under the test of Robert-Houdin’s examination would have met a similar fate.”
With this commendation I cannot agree. Robert-Houdin once had all the leeway he wished at a most remarkable manifestation and made no attempt to hide the fact that he was baffled by the “phenomena.” The “Memoirs of Marquis de Mirville” contain a Robert-Houdin letter in which he admits that he could find no explanation of tests just witnessed. The letter, translated from “Die Magie des XIX. Jahrhunderts von Uriarte,” 1896, published in Berlin, Germany, by Heusers Verlag, is herewith quoted: “I returned from the séance as greatly astonished as it was possible for me to be, and I am thoroughly convinced that it was entirely out of the possibility, and no chance whatever, that it was either by accident or practised trickery to produce such wonderful materializations. Robert-Houdin, May 18th, 1847.”
He further shows his ignorance of séances as offered in his times, by his attempt to describe the methods employed by the Davenport Brothers, to whom he devotes chapter XIII., which might be described as a chapter of errors.