As regards the taking of poisons by this person, the “Morning Chronicle” account says, “Monsieur Chabert’s first performance was the swallowing a quantity of phosphorus, which, we need not inform our readers, is one of the most violent poisons. Happening to stand near the exhibitor’s table, he invited us to weigh out the phosphorus, and taste the pure water with which he washed down the aconite. We accordingly administered to the gentleman a dose of sixty-four grains, enough, we imagine, to have proved a quietus to even Chuny himself. We observed, however, that the pure water was strongly impregnated with an alkali (soda), and we need scarcely observe, that any of the fixed alkalies would have the effect of neutralizing the phosphorus, and destroying its pernicious effects in the stomach. There was a similar exhibition of swallowing a quantity of arsenic, some of which was fused over charcoal, to convince the bystanders, by the smell, that it was the real poison. To us, however, it appeared that it was merely metallic arsenic, the swallowing of which might be done with impunity—at least, to the extent to which Monsieur Chabert received it into his stomach. We thought this part of the exhibition rather offensive and silly, for it was obvious that the quality of the drugs, professed to be poison, was submitted to no fair test; and there were several links deficient in the chain of reasoning necessary to convince an intelligent person that the professed feat was really performed.” Supposing this statement correct, there is nothing surprising in Monsieur Chabert’s trick.
“But,” the same writer adds, “it was different with the pyrotechnic exhibition.—Monsieur Chabert first poured nitric acid upon metallic filings, mixed (we suppose) with sulphur, to form pyrites; these he suffered fairly to ignite in the palm of his hand, and retained the burning mass some time, although a small quantity ignited in our hand quickly made us glad to plunge it into water. Monsieur Chabert then deliberately rubbed a hot shovel over his skin, through his hair, and finally upon the tongue. This was very fairly done. The next feat was that of swallowing boiling oil. We tried the thermometer in the oil, and found it rose to 340 degrees. Monsieur Chabert swallowed a few table spoonsful of this burning liquid, which perhaps might have cooled to about 320 degrees, between the taking the oil from the saucepan and the putting it into his mouth. A gentleman in the company came forward, and dropping lighted sealing-wax upon Monsieur Chabert’s tongue, took the impression of his seal. This we suppose is what is called sealing a man’s mouth.”
There is nothing more astonishing in this than in the trick with the poisons. The little black-letter “Booke of Secretes of Albertus Magnus, imprinted at London by H. Iackson,” which discovers many “merveyls of the world,” happens to be at hand, and two of them may throw some light on the kind of means by which Monsieur Chabert performed his pyrotechnic exhibition; viz.
1. When thou wilt that thou seeme a inflamed, or set on fyre from thy head unto thy fete and not be hurt.
Take white great malowes or holy-hocke, myxe them with the white of egges; after anoynte thy body with it, and let it be untill it be dryed up; and, after, anoynte the with alume, and afterwards caste on it smal brymstone beaten unto poulder, for the fyre is inflamed on it, and hurteth not; and if thou make upon the palme of thy hand thou shalt bee able to hold the fyre without hurt.
2. A merveylous experience, which maketh menne to go into the fyre without hurte, or to bere fyre, or red hott yron in their hand, withoute hurte.
Take the juyce of Bismalua, and the whyte of an egge, and the sede of an hearbe called Psillium, also Pulicarius herba, and breake it unto powder, and make a confection, and mixe the juyce of Radysh with the whyte of an egge.
Anoynt thy body or hande with this confection, and let it be dryed and after anoynte it againe; after that, thou mayest suffer boldely the fyre without hurt.
This, without multiplying authorities, may suffice to show, that a man may continue to work great marvels in the eyes of persons who are uninformed, by simple processes well known centuries ago. The editor of the Every-Day Book was once called on by a lady making tea, to hand the boiling water in his “best manner:” he took the kettle from the fire, and placing its bottom on his right hand, bore it with extended arm across the room to his fair requisionist, who very nearly went into fits, and some of the female part of the company fainted: they expected his hand to be thoroughly burned; when, in fact, no other inconvenience will result to any one who chooses to present a tea-kettle in that way than the necessity of wiping the soil from the hand by a damp cloth. Some of the most common things are wonderful to those who have never seen them.