It only remains to explain the mode by which the nest of boxes, with the handkerchief therein, is placed upon the servante. Some performers employ the rather too transparent expedient of making the assistant bring in, then and there, a small round table, behind which, on a servante of its own, is placed the closed nest of boxes. A better plan, where the size of the nest permits, is to have it placed open, before the performance commences, on the servante of the centre table. It is then an easy matter for the performer or his assistant (as the case may be) to slip in the folded handkerchief, and close the boxes, the remainder of the trick proceeding as already described.
Some performers use for the purpose of this trick a special mechanical table, which, by means of a lifting apparatus, itself introduces the nest of boxes through a trap into the bottomless box, without the necessity of tilting the latter.
Fig. 108.
The Reversible Canister.—This is another piece of apparatus more particularly designed for changing a handkerchief, though equally available for many other exchanges. In appearance it is an ordinary cylindrical canister, closed with a cap, and similar in shape to those in which tea is kept, but of smaller size, being only five to six inches in height. In reality, however, that which appears to be the body of the canister is a mere tube, within which slides up and down an inner canister, which is made double-headed, i.e., like two shallow canisters placed bottom to bottom. (See [Fig. 108].) The pattern of the outer tube is alike at top and bottom, so that whether the combined canister is as shown in the figure, with compartment a uppermost, or turned upside down, with compartment b pushed into view, the appearance to the eye of the spectator is the same. The canister is prepared by placing beforehand in one or other of the compartments, say b, a piece of cambric, as much like a lady’s handkerchief as possible. Compartment a is then pushed upwards, as shown in the figure. Borrowing a handkerchief, the performer requests the owner to place it for safe keeping in the canister, which he brings forward for that purpose. As he turns to replace it on the table, he takes advantage of the moment during which his back is towards the spectators to push down a (thus pushing out b at the opposite end of the tube), and at the same time to turn over the canister, which, when placed on the table, will still look as shown in the figure, but will have, in reality, b uppermost. Presently taking out the prepared cambric, which the spectators take to be the handkerchief, he burns or otherwise disposes of it, to be subsequently reproduced by the simple process of again reversing the canister.
This is a simple and inexpensive piece of apparatus, but it will not bear examination, and the process of reversing is a little awkward. For these reasons it is rarely employed by professional performers, who for the same purpose more generally use what is known as
The Burning Globe.—This is a hollow brass globe of four to six inches in diameter, mounted on a foot of about the same height, and surmounted by a cap or lid, so that it forms, in fact, a spherical canister. A raised band, also of brass, passes horizontally round the globe; and this, which is apparently a mere ornament, is really designed to conceal the fact that the globe is divided into two separate hemispheres, revolving one upon the other. Within this external globe is an inner one, divided into two compartments, each having a separate opening, and so contrived that each of these openings in turn is made to correspond with the opening of the external globe, according as the upper hemisphere of the latter is moved round from right to left, or vice versâ. The globe is, like the canister, prepared by placing a substitute handkerchief, or piece of cambric, in one or other of the inner compartments, and then bringing the other compartment into correspondence with the external opening. A borrowed handkerchief being openly placed in the empty compartment, the performer, by merely giving a half turn to the foot of the apparatus, brings the compartment containing the substitute uppermost, the action being so little noticeable that it may be used with impunity before the very eyes of the audience.
The Transformed Handkerchief.—This is one of Herrmann’s favourite tricks, and affords a very good example of his style of working. The performer comes forward, requesting the loan of a lady’s handkerchief. While it is being procured, he produces from the hair or whiskers of one of the spectators a lemon, which he carelessly thrusts under somebody’s nose in order to prove its genuineness. (This lemon, which, of course, was palmed, is a prepared one, from which the pulp has been scooped out, and which contains a substitute handkerchief, so cannot be handed for examination.) Turning for an instant towards the stage, he tosses the lemon to his assistant, who catches it, and places it on the table. The momentary turn from the audience enables him to get from under his waistband, and to palm, a little bundle of pieces of cambric, each about four inches square. Taking the borrowed handkerchief, he rolls it into a ball between his hands, and hands it (apparently) to some one to hold, in reality substituting the torn pieces of cambric. He then turns, and takes a few paces towards his table, meanwhile tucking the handkerchief under his waistcoat, and taking therefrom in place of it a strip of cambric, about four or five feet long and four inches wide, rolled up into a small compass. This he palms. Suddenly turning back, he exclaims, “My dear sir, what are you doing with that handkerchief? I never told you to do that!” The innocent holder looks up in astonishment, but the performer continues, “Will you have the kindness to open the handkerchief?” He does so, and finds it in pieces. After a little chaff about making him pay for the damage, the performer says, “Well, I suppose I must show you how to restore it.” Here he again takes the pieces, and folds them together, saying, “See, you must take them as I do, and rub them very gently with the left hand.” Substituting the prepared slip, he hands it to him; but, when he begins to rub, exclaims again, “Dear me, dear me! what are you doing now? I told you the left hand. You are making matters worse than ever.” The handkerchief is now found in a long strip. The performer endeavours to induce the owner to accept it in this shape, which he assures her is the newest style; but she naturally objects, and begs that it may be restored to its original condition. For that purpose, the performer, rolling the slip into a ball, places it in his magic pistol (see page [215]), and rams it down with his wand. Appearing to reflect for a moment, he says, “Where shall I fire it? Ah! suppose I aim at that lemon on the table?” “Bang!” goes the pistol, and the performer, taking a knife, cuts the lemon all round (flinging the rind carelessly on the stage), and produces the substitute handkerchief (professedly the original). He comes forward to the audience with it, and, after thanking the owner, makes a gesture of returning it; but, as if struck by a sudden thought, checks himself, and says, “I’m afraid it smells rather strong of the lemon. Will you allow me to scent it for you? I have some capital Eau de Cologne here.” Going back to his table, he places the handkerchief on a plate, and pours scent on it, turning as he does so to the owner, and saying, “Please tell me when you think there is enough.” While his back is turned, the attendant, who has been standing by holding a lighted candle, with a mischievous wink at the company, tilts the candle, and sets the handkerchief on fire. The performer apologizes for his assistant’s stupidity, but appeals to the company to bear witness that it was no fault of his, and bringing forward the plate, with the handkerchief still blazing, offers it to the owner. She, of course, declines to take it, and the performer, remarking, “You don’t like it in this condition; well, then, suppose I put it in paper for you,” places the plate on the floor, telling the assistant to put it on the table, and runs off to get the paper. The attendant tries to lift off the plate, but finds that it burns his fingers. However, after several attempts, getting the plate a little nearer to the table at each, he manages to place it on the table. This little by-play amuses the audience, and gives the performer the few moments which he requires for his preparations behind the scenes. Coming forward with a sheet of clean white paper, he wraps therein the still blazing handkerchief, crushing it together so as to extinguish the flames. He offers the packet so made to the lady, who, believing that it contains nothing but ashes, declines to receive it, when the professor, tearing the paper apart, pulls out the handkerchief perfectly restored, while the burnt fragments have vanished.
The effect last mentioned is produced by the use of a double paper, pasted together round three of its sides, and thus forming a kind of bag in the centre. In this bag the performer, during his momentary absence from the stage, places the genuine handkerchief, folded so as to occupy as little space as possible. The handkerchief, therefore, lies between the two thicknesses of the paper, and when the rolled up packet is torn open from outside, may be removed without disturbing the burnt fragments, which still remain inside the paper.
Where it is necessary, as for the purpose of this trick, to introduce some article into a lemon, the necessary preparation should be made as follows:—A lemon with a thick hard rind should be selected, and a plug-shaped piece, about an inch and a half in diameter, should be scooped with a sharp knife out of one end. The pulp may now be removed, leaving the rind a mere shell, while the piece originally cut out will form a kind of stopper, which may be secured in its place by thrusting a hair-pin or piece of wire through the fruit and plug from side to side, and nipping off the ends flush with the outer surface. When the performer exhibits the lemon, he takes care to have the cut end inwards towards his palm; so that the circular mark is concealed by the fingers, and when he desires to produce the handkerchief he cuts the opposite end.