Latest Magic, Being original conjuring tricks

by Professor Hoffmann

Closely connected with the subject of patter is the use of the wand, which in my own opinion cannot be too sedulously cultivated. To the cases in which the wand itself forms the prominent item of the trick, I devoted a special chapter in “Later Magic.” To these therefore I need not further refer. More important, however, is the part played by the wand from the point of view of general utility.

In the first place, it is the only remnant of the traditional outfit of the magician. Time was, when the regulation costume of the wizard was a sugarloaf hat, and a robe embroidered with highly coloured mystic symbols. Such a robe is still worn as part of their make-up, by Chung Ling Soo and a few other Orientals, but the orthodox costume of the latter-day wizard is ordinary evening dress. The wand alone remains; the symbol and the professed instrument of his mystic powers, and from its traditional connection with magic, there is a special prestige attached to it.

For these reasons alone it would be desirable to retain the use of the wand, but apart from them, its practical uses are many and various. One of the first difficulties of the novice, as he comes forward to introduce himself to his audience, is to know what to do with his hands. He can hardly advance with hand on heart, within his vest, à la Pecksniff. Held open, with arms hanging down by the sides, the hands look too stiff, and to advance with them in his pockets would hardly be good form. By coming forward wand in hand, he avoids these difficulties. The hand holding it automatically assumes an easy and natural position, and he ceases to think about the other. With the wand held in the right hand across the body, its free end resting on the palm of the opposite hand, he is in an ideal attitude for delivering his introductory patter. Later on, by holding the wand in the hand, he effectually disguises the fact that he has some object, a card, a coin, or a watch concealed therein. If he has occasion to call attention directly to any object, the wand forms the most natural pointer. If he finds it necessary, for some reason connected with the trick in hand, to make a turn or half-turn away from the spectators, the fact that he has left his wand upon the table affords him the needful opportunity.

Lastly, if the wand is habitually used as the professed instrument of a desired transposition or transformation, a certain portion of an average audience gradually becomes impressed with the idea that there really must be some occult connection between the touch of the wand and the effect produced. There is much virtue in what may be called a magical atmosphere, and after the wizard has proved his magical power by performing two or three apparent impossibilities, the mind of the spectator (though in his calmer moments, he knows, or should know, better), is led to adopt in a greater or less degree the solution “forced” upon him by the conjurer. Habitual use of the wand, with apparent seriousness, goes far to create the desired atmosphere.

A good effect may be produced by “electrifying” the wand now and then, by rubbing it with a handkerchief. The main uses of electricity are so widely known, and so little understood by the million, that they are quite ready to give it credit for still more marvellous possibilities.

My friend Mr. Holt Schooling, mentioned in connection with The Secret of the Pyramids, finds an additional use for the wand. He uses, not one only, but half a dozen, of different appearance, each credited with some special magical virtue. At the outset of his show these are arranged horizontally, one above another on pins projecting from a small sloping blackboard. For each fresh trick the wand professedly appropriate to it is brought into action, the one last used being at the same time replaced on the stand. The spectators do not suspect that behind each top corner of the board is a small servante, enabling the performer, under cover of the change of wands, to change a pack of cards, or to effect some other substitution necessary for the purpose of his next item.

Verbum sap, by all means cultivate the use of the wand, and for the sake of effect, let it be of an elegant and distinctive character. An office-ruler or a piece of cane would serve many of its mechanical purposes, but would lack the prestige attached to what is, professedly, the genuine article.

One of the most striking proofs of the extensive use and appreciation of the wand by modern magicians is furnished by the remarkable collection of such implements got together by Dr. Saram R. Ellison, of New York.

Dr. Ellison[20] is an eminent and popular physician, whose ruling passion is wanting to know things, particularly things that other people don’t know. Such being his temperament, it goes almost without saying that at an early period of his career he became a Freemason. Having been duly initiated into the mysteries of the ordinary lodge, and learnt all it had to teach him, he still yearned for “more light,” and accordingly worked his way up step by step through intervening degrees in masonry till he reached what is known as the thirty-third degree, an order even more exclusive than that of the Garter, and claiming to possess secrets as to which the ordinary “blue” mason, even though he be a Past Grand Everything, knows no more than the veriest outsider.

When in this direction there were no more mysteries left for him to conquer, Dr. Ellison naturally turned his attention to Magic: and in accordance with his habitual determination to know all that there is to be known with regard to his hobby for the time being he began to collect books upon the subject. At first there were but few to collect, but the literature of magic has grown, and grown, and side by side with its advance Dr. Ellison’s collection has grown larger and larger till it numbers some hundreds of volumes. Harry Kellar, the dean of American magicians, and himself an enthusiastic collector, yearned to possess it, and offered the doctor for it the handsome sum of two thousand dollars, equivalent in English money to about four hundred pounds. But Dr. Ellison was not to be tempted. In order that the collection should be preserved intact, he donated it, some years ago, to the New York Public Library, also providing a fund for its upkeep and further development.