It might seem that if the public became familiar with the methods of the magicians who give public entertainments, their business would be gone. But this is not the case. As a peep behind the scenes and a knowledge of the machinery of the stage only help us to appreciate scenic effects, so an insight into the tricks of the prestidigitateur will only serve to whet our appetite for seeing him perform his tricks. The prestidigitateur will be forced to improve his tricks before an intelligent audience; he will be obliged to invent new methods, but not to abandon his art.
Moreover, it is not the trick alone that we admire, but the way in which it is performed. Even those who know how things can be made to disappear by sleight of hand, must confess that they always found delight in seeing the late Alexander Herrmann, whenever he began a soirée, take off his gloves, roll them up and make them vanish as if into nothingness.
It is true that magic in the old sense is gone; but that need not be lamented. The coarseness of Cagliostro’s frauds has given way to the elegant display of scientific inventiveness and an adroit use of human wit. Traces of the religion of magic are still prevalent to-day, and it will take much patient work before the last remnants of it are swept away. The notions of magic still hold in bondage the minds of the uneducated and half-educated, and even the leaders of progress feel themselves now and then hampered by ghosts and superstitions.
We believe that the spread of modern magic and its proper comprehension are an important sign of progress, and in this {xix} sense the feats of our Kellars and Herrmanns are a work of religious significance. They are instrumental in dispelling the fogs of superstition by exhibiting to the public the astonishing but natural miracles of the art of legerdemain; and while they amuse and entertain they fortify the people in their conviction of the reliability of science.
ZÖLLNER’S ILLUSION
In speaking of modern magic, we refer to the art of the prestidigitateur, and exclude from its domain the experiments of hypnotism as well as the vulgar lies of fraud. There is no magic in the psychosis of an hysterical subject, who at the hypnotizer’s suggestion becomes the prey of hallucinations; nor is there any art in the deceptions of the fortune-teller, whose business will vanish when the public ceases to be credulous and superstitious. The former is a disease, the latter mostly fraud. Magic proper (i. e., the artifices of prestidigitation) is produced by a combination of three factors: (1) legerdemain proper, or sleight of hand; (2) psychological illusions, and (3) surprising feats of natural science with clever concealment of their true causes. The success of almost every trick depends upon the introduction of these three factors.
The throwing of cards is mere dexterity; Zöllner’s famous figures of parallel lines having an apparent inclination toward {xx} one another is a pure sense-illusion (see cut here reproduced); so is the magical swing; while fire-eating (or better, fire-breathing) is a purely physical experiment. But it goes without saying that there is scarcely any performance of genuine prestidigitation which is not a combination of all three elements. The production of a bowl of water with living fishes in it is a combination of dexterity with psychology.
The trick with the glass dial (which is now exhibited by both Mr. Kellar and Mr. Herrmann, the nephew of the late Alexander Herrmann) is purely physical. The machinery used by them is entirely different, but in either case no sleight of hand nor any psychological diversion is needed, except in letting the accomplice behind the stage know the number to which he should point.
As an instance of a wonderful trick which is a mere sense-illusion we mention the magic swing, which is explained by Albert A. Hopkins in his comprehensive book on magic[1] as follows: