Modern Magic: A Practical Treatise on the Art of Conjuring

by Professor Hoffmann

The arithmetical reason for this curious result, though simple enough in itself, is somewhat difficult to explain on paper, and we shall therefore leave it as an exercise for the ingenuity of our readers.

Fig. 101.

To Bend a Borrowed Watch Backwards and Forwards.—This little deception is hardly to be called a conjuring trick, but it may be introduced with good effect in the course of any trick for which a watch has been borrowed. Looking intently at the watch, as though you noticed something peculiar about it, you remark to the owner, “This is a very curious watch, sir; it is quite soft.” Then taking it (as shown in [Fig. 101]), with the dial inwards towards your own body, and holding it between two fingers of each hand on the back, and the thumb of each hand on the face, you bend the hands outwards, at the same time bringing the points of the fingers nearer together, immediately bringing them back to their former position. The motion may be repeated any number of times. By a curious optical illusion, which we are not able to explain, but which we assume to be produced in some way by the varying shadow of the fingers on the polished surface of the metal, the watch appears, to a spectator at a little distance, to be bent nearly double by each outward movement of the hands. The illusion is so perfect, that great amusement is occasionally produced by the consternation of the owner, who fancies that irreparable injury is being done to his favourite “Waltham.” If, however, his faith in your supernatural powers is so great as to resist this ordeal, you may test it even more severely by means of

The Watch-mortar and the Magic Pistol.—The watch-mortar is an apparatus in the form of an ordinary mortar, with a pestle to match. Suggesting to the owner of the borrowed timekeeper that it wants regulating, you offer to undertake that duty for him. He probably declines, but you take no notice of his remonstrances, and, placing his watch in the mortar, bring down the pestle with a heavy thump upon it. A smash, as of broken glass, is heard, and, after sufficient pounding, you empty the fragments of the watch into your hand, to the horror of the owner. You offer to return the fragments, but he naturally objects to receive them, and insists that you restore the watch in the same condition as when it was handed to you. After a little discussion, you agree to do so, premising that you can only effect the object through the agency of fire. Fetching a loaf of bread, you place it on the table in view of the company. Then wrapping the fragments of the watch in paper, you place them in a pistol, and, aiming at the loaf, request the owner of the watch to give the signal to fire. The word is given, “One, two, three—Bang!” Stepping up to the loaf, you bring it forward to the spectators, and tearing it asunder, exhibit in its very centre the borrowed watch, completely restored, and bright as when it first left the maker’s hands.

The seeming mystery is easily explained. The mortar has a moveable bottom, which allows the watch at the performer’s pleasure to fall through into his hand. There is a hollow space in the thick end of the pestle, closed by a round piece of wood lightly screwed in, which, fitting tightly in the bottom part of the mortar, is easily unscrewed by the performer, or rather unscrews itself, as he apparently grinds away at the ill-fated chronometer. In the cavity are placed beforehand the fragments of a watch, which, thus released, fall into the mortar, and are poured out by the performer into his hand, in order to show that there has been “no deception.” When the performer goes to fetch the loaf, he has already obtained possession of the watch, which, after giving it a rub upon his coat-sleeve or a bit of leather to increase its brightness, he pushes into a slit already made in the side of the loaf. When the loaf is torn asunder (which the performer takes care to do from the side opposite to that in which the opening has been made), the watch is naturally found imbedded therein.

If a regular conjuring-table is used, the loaf may be placed in readiness on the servante. The performer in this case, having got possession of the watch, and holding it secretly palmed, borrows a hat. Walking carelessly behind his table, he asks, as if in doubt, “Who lent me this hat?” holding it up with one hand, that the spectators may see that it is empty. While all eyes are thus drawn to the hat, he with the other hand forces the watch into the loaf, and then, in bringing the hat down on the table, introduces the loaf into it, after the manner of the well-known “cannon-ball” trick, to be described hereafter. The hat is then placed on the table as if empty, and the pistol fired at the hat. This little addition heightens the effect of the trick, but demands somewhat greater address on the part of the performer.

The pistol employed, being of constant use in magical performances, will demand a special explanation. It consists of two parts, viz., an ordinary pocket-pistol, and a conical tin funnel, measuring about five inches across its widest diameter, and tapering down to a tube of such a size as to fit easily over the barrel of the pistol. This tube is continued inside the cone, and affords a free passage for the charge, which consists of powder only. Any object which is apparently to be fired from the pistol is pressed down between the outside of this tube and the inside of the tin cone, where it remains wholly unaffected by the explosion. The outside of the cone is japanned according to taste, the tube and the rest of the interior being always black.

There are numerous other ways of finishing the trick, with or without the use of the pistol. The watch-mortar has discharged its duty when it has apparently reduced the borrowed watch to fragments, and has placed it in reality in the hands of the performer. The sequel of the trick, with which the mortar has nothing to do, will depend on the ingenuity of the performer and his command of other apparatus.

There is another form of watch-mortar, which is frequently used, though to our own taste it is very inferior to that above described. It consists of a cylindrical tin box or case, about four inches high and three in diameter, open at the top, standing on a broad flat foot. Within this fits loosely another similar cylinder, of about an inch less in depth. The upper edge of this latter is turned over all round, giving the two the appearance of being both of a piece. The whole is closed by an ornamental cardboard cover, also cylindrical. If this cover be lifted lightly—i.e., without pressure—it will come off alone; but if its sides are pressed, they will clip the turned-over edge of the upper or moveable compartment, and lift this with it. In this form of the trick the borrowed watch is placed in a little bag, and the two together deposited in the upper compartment. In the mortar proper—i.e., the space between the two compartments—is placed beforehand a similar little bag, containing the broken fragments of a watch. The cover being under some pretext put on, the upper compartment is lifted off with it, and the pounding consequently falls on the prepared fragments.