Chapter XVI: Part II: The Dark Séance.--The scenic arrangements of this

exhibition are of the simplest possible character. The cabinet and its trestles are removed and put on one side, and are replaced by a small table, on which are placed two guitars and a tambourine, which we have already seen employed in the first part of the performance.

These preparations, which are very deliberately made, have given the two Brothers time to take a little rest in an adjoining room. They speedily return, and seat themselves on two slightly made chairs, one on each side of the table. Each places at his feet a coil of rope.

At their request, made through their interpreter, some fourteen or fifteen members of the audience come and take seats near the Americans, and, joining hands, form an impenetrable circle round them. Two gas-jets, one on each side of the enclosed portion of the hall, are alone lighted. A person is posted beside each of these burners, to turn the light up or down as may be required.

At a signal given by one of the two Brothers, the room is placed in complete darkness for a space of about two minutes. A solemn silence prevails throughout the assembly; so much are all present impressed by the weird singularity of the scene. The privileged spectators who form the protective circle are so close to the mediums, that the least movement on the part of the latter, the slightest rustle of their garments, would be distinctly audible. Each lends an attentive ear, and seeks to catch the slightest sound of a suspicious character; but, in the very midst of this strained attention, the light is suddenly turned up, and the two Americans are seen securely tied; their legs, arms, and bodies are alike covered with a network of cords binding them to the chairs on which they are seated; their wrists are pinioned behind their backs, and lashed to the “stretchers” of the chairs. The chairs are likewise firmly tied to the table. Spectators gather round, they examine the various knots, and are constrained to admit that they are honestly tied.

Again we are placed in darkness, and instantly the musical instruments placed on the table are heard in mysterious harmony. Suddenly, the gas is turned up, and, simultaneously with the appearance of the light, the concert ceases. The instruments show no sign of having moved from their places, and the mediums are tied up as before.

The spectators begin to experience an indescribable sensation of “all-over-ishness.” There is very little applause: a performance of this kind is not calculated to produce a feeling of exaltation. On the contrary, it rather tends to make one feel a kind of nervous depression. True believers regard the phenomena in question as the genuine work of spirits; and even the incredulous and the sceptical are forced to admit that these pretended supernatural manifestations are, to say the least, remarkably well executed. As yet, moreover, we have by no means arrived at the most remarkable phenomena of this mysterious performance.

In order to afford the company absolute certainty that the ligatures are not unfastened, one of the spectators who happens to be nearest is asked to apply some melted sealing-wax to the knots which bind the wrists, and to impress a seal thereon. Meanwhile, the guitars and the tambourine are smeared with a phosphorescent liquid which renders them distinguishable in the dark.

The moment that the room is again placed in darkness, the guitars and the tambourine begin to move, and leave the places they occupy, at the same time producing the most lugubrious sounds. They are seen to rise in the air, and to move about in luminous curves; then, to take an erratic course, and wander about the hall, flitting just over the heads of the spectators. One guitar just ruffles this gentleman’s hair, another brushes against that gentleman’s coat; and yet, though frequently moving in an abrupt and jerky manner, neither of the instruments comes in actual contact with either the spectators or the ceiling; at most, as they pass close to your face, you feel a sudden draught, a puff of wind which causes you instinctively to draw your head back, for fear of receiving a blow. The situation is rather painful than pleasant. One experiences a sort of indefinable feeling of _dread_, which for the time being paralyses the reflective faculties.

In the middle of these eccentric evolutions the lights are turned up, and the instruments are found resting on the laps of the spectators. The seals on the knots are examined, and are found to be unbroken.

A further precaution is now taken to guarantee the spectators against any trickery, if they still entertain a doubt on the subject. A sheet of paper is placed under the feet of each of the mediums, and the outline of his boots is traced with a pencil thereon. If by some mysterious means they manage to get free from their bonds, and to leave their seats, this sheet of paper will betray them. If it has shifted but a quarter of an inch, trickery stands confessed. The public appear to put complete faith in this test. In addition, a spectator is requested to take off his coat or overcoat, and to lay it across his knees.

These arrangements being completed, the gas is extinguished, and during some few minutes of darkness, the guitars again strike up their unearthly music, and recommence their eccentric movements. But, even while these musical will-o’-the-wisps are still hovering in space, one spectator finds himself suddenly deprived of his hat, which is wafted several yards away; another has his hair dishevelled by mysterious fingers; a third feels his hand shaken by an invisible hand; the coat, above referred to, is whisked away from its owner, while another spectator finds on his lap some indistinguishable garment-like object. When the gas is re-lighted, the two Brothers are seen perfectly composed, still bound, and apparently quite innocent of any concern with what has just taken place. A rush is made to examine the seals, they are found intact; the sheet of paper is inspected, the sole has not shifted by a hair’s-breadth from the outline traced around it. But the fact which puts a climax to the general astonishment is, that one of the Brothers, though still tied up and the knots sealed, is wearing the spectator’s missing coat, while the other has a hat on his head and a pair of spectacles on his nose. These three articles belong to three different spectators. The medium’s own coat is found in the hall on the lap of one of the spectators.

At this stage of the proceedings, the astonishment, indeed, one might say the stupefaction, the bewilderment of the audience reaches its utmost limit; spiritualistic manifestation or imposture, supernatural phenomenon or mere conjuring tricks, the performance is perfect of its kind. Putting aside for the moment reflection or investigation, we simply make up our minds to pay the performers a well-earned tribute of applause.

EXPLANATION OF THE ARTIFICES WHEREBY THE PRETENDED
SPIRITUALISTIC MANIFESTATIONS AND THE
“INEXPLICABLE” PHENOMENA OF THE BROTHERS
DAVENPORT ARE PRODUCED.

Ordinary conjurors, as a rule, use special apparatus to facilitate the execution of their marvels. The Davenports have, strictly speaking, nothing but their “ropes.” The cabinet lends no assistance whatever in the actual execution of the tricks. An ordinary screen and a couple of chairs might, on emergency, be used in its stead. It serves, in truth, simply to cover the manipulations of the mediums. The musical instruments may be considered as mere accessories.

The ropes used are of a cotton fibre; their make is the same as that of the cords which are used to draw curtains backwards and forwards, and they present therefore smooth surfaces, adapted to slip easily one upon another. In length they are about ten feet each.

When, at the outset of the performance, a certain number of spectators are invited to step upon the platform, and to surround the cabinet, they are requested to join hands, under the pretext of establishing a magnetic circle round the mediums. In reality, the object is to preclude the possibility of individual attempts to solve the mystery. For the same reason, the spectators in the front row are required to join hands in like manner.

The two Brothers place themselves on the seats of the cabinet, and each hands three ropes to the person selected to secure him to his seat. At first sight it may be imagined that this is a very easy matter, but in truth it is quite the reverse. To begin with, upon what system will you proceed, and where will you commence? You have in all probability never before had occasion to bind a prisoner. Sometimes the person appointed is of an easy-going disposition; he thinks less of creating difficulties for his victim than of getting his task well over: he ties his man up “anyhow,” so to speak. In such case everything is in favour of the success of the trick. But very often, on the other hand, the medium has to do with a keen and vigorous antagonist, who takes a serious view of the duty he has undertaken, and considers his own reputation for smartness at stake. His first proceeding is to place the hands of the patient behind his back and to fasten them there securely. He next brings the cord to the front, thence back again; passes it under the arms, and finishes off with a knot which he regards as invincible. With the two remaining cords he surrounds the feet, the thighs, and arms of the medium, and lashes these parts also firmly to the seats of the cabinet. Vain precaution! Every knot, every form of ligature is necessarily capable of being again untied.

While he is being tied up, the medium places himself in any position which may be required of him; but with his keen Yankee eye, he sees at once the kind of person with whom he has to do. The easy-going representative he does not trouble himself about; he lets such a person do just as he pleases. But with the other kind of delegate he is keenly on the watch, and strives silently to neutralize his hostile intentions. If he finds himself being too tightly tied, he utters a faint cry of pain, which, however, he makes believe at once to repress. This little piece of acting nearly always succeeds; the rest of the ligatures are almost invariably tied with a certain amount of forbearance. Or again, the medium, without appearing to do so, expands various portions of his frame, either by slightly raising his shoulders, holding the arms away from the body, or lastly, by opposing a secret resistance in the direction in which the pressure is the strongest.

When the tying-up is complete, the first endeavour of the medium is, by dint of a particular movement which it is impossible to describe, to work up towards the shoulders the cords which are round the forearms, so as to give these last a little freedom. Next comes a process of pulling and straining; the wrists drawn vigorously apart operate as levers straining against the loops through which they pass, and by persistent pulling, they stretch such parts of the cord as may be susceptible of such extension. A quarter of an inch, or little more, of play, will suffice for the deliverance of one or the other hand. It should be stated, that by dint of special practice on the part of our mediums, the thumb is made to lie flat in the hand, when the whole assumes a cylindrical form of scarcely greater diameter than the wrist.

The first to get free of the four hands is passed through the opening, and shows itself to the spectators, while the three others still labour for the common deliverance. The hands once free, the remaining cords and the knots are then untied; the teeth rendering valuable service in this particular.

Ira Davenport (who in Fig. 24 is represented as being to the right hand of the spectator) is cleverer and more active than his brother, and is almost invariably the first to release himself. When this is so, he helps William. In any case, the first to get free assists the other.[45]

When the mediums bind themselves in their cabinet, the mode of tying which they employ enables them to free themselves and again secure themselves in an extremely small space of time. Fig. 25 will give some idea of the arrangement of the cords.

To produce such arrangement they proceed as follows: They take one of the cords by the middle, and form at that point a bow or double loop, as represented in Fig. 26.[46]

The reader will perceive that this is in fact a double slip-knot, the loops of which may be diminished or increased in size, according as the ends A and B are drawn tight or released.

Leaving the two loops open as above, the performers pass through two holes, bored purposely in the seat, the two ends of the cord, which is long enough to be tied round their feet, and attached to the cross-bar in front. With the two other cords, they bind their thighs to the side rails, and sometimes also the arms close to the body. This done, they pass their hands through the loops, which they then draw tight by extending their legs slightly forward. Upon this “dodge” rests the whole pretended intervention of the spirits and the racket in which they indulge. In point of fact, no sooner are the doors of the cabinet closed than the two Brothers draw back their legs a little and slacken the knot, thus enabling themselves to draw out their hands and to become free. The violin, the guitars, the tambourine, and the bell are almost instantaneously set in motion, making a row of the most hideous description, which is still further enhanced by occasional kicks and thumps on the sides of the cabinet itself. After a short interval the instruments are restored to their original positions, the wrists are replaced in their ligatures, the doors are flung open, and all appear in due order as at first.

A representative selected by the audience is requested, as already described, to step upon the platform; he takes his place in the cabinet upon the seat in the middle. One of his hands is tied to Ira’s shoulder, and the other to William’s knee. But is it not obvious that this precaution, which is ostensibly taken _against_ the two Brothers, is really in their favour? They have no need, in truth, to stir either knee or shoulder in order to carry out their mischievous pranks; and the stranger, having his hands tied, has no control whatever over their proceedings. He becomes a mere dummy; and under such circumstances, there is not the least difficulty in removing his spectacles (if he wears any), his necktie, or his pocket-handkerchief, and in crowning him with the tambourine.

Placing flour in the hands of the two Brothers does not at all interfere with their drawing them out of the slip-knot. The hands once free, they pour the flour into a pocket made on purpose in their coats, wipe their hands on the inside of the pocket, then pass them one after another through the opening in the door, to show that they are free, and finally indulge, as before, in their noisy _concerto_; after which, one of the Brothers takes from a side-pocket a little paper bag filled with flour, pours some into the hands of his companion and into one of his own, replaces the empty bag in its hiding-place, and then gives his other hand its due proportion of flour. The doors are opened, and the two Brothers, freed from their cords, come forward to show the public that their hands are still full of flour.

* * * * *

This little “flour test” terminated on one occasion in a manner which was rather embarrassing to the mediums, though highly diverting to the spectators. The person deputed to place the flour in the mediums’ hands hit on the cute idea of using _snuff_ instead. The mediums saw nothing of the change, for at the moment in question their hands are held behind their backs. The two Brothers reappeared with flour in their hands. The trick which had been played them was then explained, and there was a hearty laugh all round, except, indeed, on the part of the discomfited tricksters.[47]

The explanation of the second portion, or _Dark Séance_, will be readily understood, inasmuch as the tricks still mainly rest on the famous “slip-knot” of which we have already spoken. The two Brothers are seated on either side of a table, on which are laid the guitars and tambourines; they have at their feet a heap of cords; around them is formed the magnetic circle of spectators, each holding the hand of his neighbour. The lights are turned down, and forthwith the two Brothers lash themselves to their chairs after the manner above described, and in the position depicted in Fig. 25. The only difference lies in the form of the seats used. Just as in the case of the cabinet, they can at pleasure fasten or unfasten themselves, and play the instruments which are on the table.

But, it may be asked, how do they manage when the knot which attaches them is sealed? The reader will note on inspection of Fig. 26, that it is quite possible to put wax on the middle of the knot, and even to seal the two portions of the cord at this point firmly together, without the movement of the ends A or B, or that of the loops themselves being at all interfered with. When the wrists are placed in the loops, this portion of the knot is always uppermost. And, further, the interpreter takes good care to indicate the precise point at which the seal is to be applied, adding a request that the investigator will be careful not to allow the melted wax to touch the wrists. This remark is sure to induce an amount of reserve which is very favourable to the success of the trick. Finally, it should be remarked, that the cord being as thick as the little finger, the impression of the seal cannot possibly extend beyond the point of junction of the two fixed portions.

We have, however, still sundry marvels to explain, viz., the fantastic evolutions of the guitars, the sheet of paper under the feet, the coat taken off and replaced, &c.

The guitars and the tambourine are smeared with a phosphorescent liquid whose faint glimmer does not shine brightly enough to reveal the outline of surrounding objects. The company are therefore in total darkness. Ira frees himself from his bonds, and, by the aid of a faculty which he has acquired of seeing in the dark,[48] he seizes one of the luminous guitars by the neck, steps forward with it as close as possible to the circle of spectators, and waves it over their heads, at the same time twanging the strings with the third and fourth fingers. The absence of any other object wherewith to compare prevents the spectator forming any decided judgment as to the _distance_ of this vaguely luminous body; indeed, I have myself known a guitar which was almost touching my head appear to be several yards away. Meanwhile, the other medium, having also sufficiently freed himself from his bonds, holds up the other phosphorescent guitar and tambourine as high as he can, and with these two instruments makes as much noise and as much movement as possible.

The trick of the outline of the feet marked on the sheet of paper is very ingenious. Ira, after the above measure of precaution has been duly taken, quits his position on the sheet of paper in order to approach the spectators, but when he returns to his seat, takes care to _turn over_ the sheet of paper before placing his feet upon it; and then, by means of a pencil, which he takes from one of his pockets, he traces _another_ outline, which is taken to be the same which had been made by the public.

The “coat” trick is worked as follows:--Ira, freed from his bonds, takes off his coat, throws it into the middle of the hall, and catching up one which he has had placed on the lap of a spectator in the front row, puts it on instead, then replaces himself in his ligatures, and the trick is done.[49]

FOOTNOTES:

[44] The motto of the _Théâtre Nicolet_ was “_De plus fort en plus fort_”--“From one marvel to a greater.”--ED.

[45] Hence the preference of rope-tying mediums for working in couples. Were they always to perform single-handed, the failure of a medium to get free would be a matter of much more frequent occurrence than at present; but the chances, which in any case are considerably against the medium being tied so securely that he cannot escape, are almost infinite against _two_ mediums being so tied by different persons on the same occasion. If one gets free, it is obviously merely a question of time to release the other, however securely tied.--ED.

[46] To produce this knot, all that is necessary is to wind the cord once round the fingers, and through the ring thus formed to draw a small portion of the cord on each side, in opposite directions.--ED.

[47] The _naïveté_ of the “flour test” is about on a par with that of the “water test” as applied to the “direct spirit voices.” The medium fills his mouth with water; the lights are turned down, and ghostly voices are heard. The lights being turned up again, the medium shows that his mouth is still full of water; _ergo_, he could not possibly have produced the uncanny sounds which have just been heard. The intellect of the average spiritualist seems to be incapable of conceiving that the medium may have swallowed the original water under cover of the darkness, and refilled his mouth from a pocket flask.--ED.

[48] This (medically known as _nyctalopia_) is a faculty which may be cultivated or developed by circumstances: witness the instances of prisoners confined for a long period in dark dungeons, who have thereby acquired this peculiar sense.--ED.

[49] Readers who chance to have had the opportunity of witnessing the Davenports’ performances will be impressed by the fairness and accuracy of Robert-Houdin’s description of the effects produced, not less than by the extreme simplicity of the mystery when explained. We may add that there is no possibility of question as to the correctness of the explanation given, which fully accords with the conclusions formed by all skilled observers of the Davenport “phenomena.” It must be conceded, in favour of the Brothers, that their performance of their difficult task was perfect of its kind, and far ahead of the majority of their imitators. One of their most successful rivals on their own ground, _i.e._, working wholly without mechanical aids, is Dexter, “the Man of Many Mysteries.” This gentleman equals the Brothers themselves in the quickness of his manipulations, while in one particular he may even claim to have surpassed them, viz., that his manifestations, including the startling “coat” feat, are produced without apparent disturbance of the _original knots tied by the audience_. The Davenports, it will be remembered, only produced their most startling effects after they had freed themselves from the original ligatures, and _tied themselves_ in their own fashion, thereby gaining the benefit of the slip-knot described at page 205. Working in a somewhat different direction, the ingenuity of Messrs. Maskelyne and Cooke and others, by the introduction of mechanical aids, has developed the rope-tying and other spiritualistic “business” to an extent never dreamt of by their original promoters. Handcuffs, sacks, and locked and corded boxes have been added to the original appliances of bondage, and yet the captive is free to “manifest” in a variety of eccentric ways. We are indebted to Mr. Bland, of Oxford Street, for the opportunity of examining one of the latest appliances in this direction: a substantial brass collar, by means of which, after the closest and most careful scrutiny, the performer is secured to an equally substantial staple. It would seem that nothing short of a skilled locksmith could effect his release; but no sooner are the lights lowered than the captive is free, again instantly securing himself after completing his “manifestation” for the time being. The mechanism of this collar, which we must own completely baffled our most careful scrutiny, is a marvel of ingenious simplicity. In examining this cleverly constructed piece of apparatus, we could not avoid the reflection that large numbers of very honest people, (even including fellows of learned societies, and others who ought by profession and practice to know better) constantly accept, as conclusive, so-called “tests” offering infinitely less assurance than this deceptive collar; and we are led to suggest, as an almost obvious moral, that, human intelligence being fallible, wherever there is a sufficient motive for deception, means will always be found to deceive.

It would scarcely be possible, within the limits of a footnote, even to enumerate the thousand-and-one dodges of the professed medium. We will, however, give one or two examples, selecting our illustrations from such of the so-called “phenomena” as appear more particularly to stagger unbelievers.

A party of inquirers engage a medium to come to the house of one of their number. He comes, we will suppose, alone (this, by the way, no medium will ever do if he can possibly help it).

The other members of the party are all known to each other, and above suspicion. All sit round the table, joining hands in the usual manner (_i.e._, the hands laid flat on the table, the little fingers of each person crossing those of his neighbours on either side). The medium is placed, say, between Mr. A. and Mr. B. (_see_ Fig. 27), both thorough sceptics, and both fully determined that he shall not stir a finger without their knowledge. And yet, the gas being extinguished, sundry mysterious things happen, which, the members of the party being _ex hypothesi_ innocent of complicity in the matter, can only be the work either of the medium or some unknown agency. Mr. A. and Mr. B. are both absolutely certain that the medium’s little fingers have rested beneath their own during the whole performance; and therefore the “supernatural agency” solution is only too frequently accepted.

Now for the true explanation. After the party have sat long enough in darkness (possibly singing “Hand in hand with angels,” or some similarly inspiring strain) to begin to feel chilly and uncomfortable, the medium is seized with convulsive starts and twitchings, which are understood to be the premonitory symptoms of the approaching “influence.” Little by little, in the course of these convulsive spasms, he brings his hands gradually nearer and nearer, till they are at last quite close together, those of Mr. A and Mr. B. conscientiously accompanying them. At last, in the course of a more than ordinarily violent spasm, the right hand is drawn away with a jerk. The hand of Mr. A. (the guardian on the right) makes an instant effort to regain its position over the emancipated little finger, and apparently succeeds, really coming down on the outstretched left _thumb_ of the medium, which is only a couple of inches distant. The condition of things is now altered as shown in Fig. 28. Mr. A. and Mr. B. are both carefully mounting guard over the _left hand_ of the medium, while the right is free to pull hair, tweak noses, ring bells, rattle tambourines, or otherwise “manifest” as maybe desired. Still the convulsive twitching on the part of the medium continues. Presently the left hand also is jerked away. Mr. A. and Mr. B. each make a “grab” to regain it, and each meeting the other’s hand, settle down, in the calm assurance that they still command the movements of the medium, though in reality they are each carefully guarding the fingers of the other, while the medium is free to fetch chimney ornaments from the mantle-piece and place them on the table, personate “John King” or “Peter,” ring bells, strum guitars, or execute any other piece of tomfoolery which he may deem most adapted to the gullibility of his audience (_see_ Fig. 29). If it is desired to jingle tambourines against the ceiling, or to execute any other manifestation requiring special length of reach, the performer calls to his aid a light, handy instrument made after the manner of the “telescope” toastingfork. This may be drawn out for use to a length of several feet, but when closed may be concealed in the pocket without difficulty. With this apparatus the enchanted tambourine or musical-box may be made without difficulty to describe a circle of fifteen or sixteen feet in diameter above the heads of the audience. When the medium has “manifested” sufficiently, he has only to resume his seat, and give a violent upward lurch to the table. This necessarily breaks the chain, and enables him to make a plunge to his original position, the hands on either side immediately closing on his own, in blissful unconsciousness that they have ever lost control of them.

A favourite “manifestation” is that of the “icy hand,” a hand which wanders in an erratic manner among the audience, giving to one a clammy touch, to another a sudden grip, the icy coldness of its touch being amply sufficient (in the dark) to prove its supernatural origin, and to compel a shudder of horror from the least nervous of temperaments. This pleasing “phenomenon” is produced by nothing more uncanny than--a damp kid glove! A kid glove is clipped into cold water, and any superabundant moisture squeezed out of it. Thus prepared, it lies _perdu_ in the tail pocket of the medium till wanted--when it is quietly slipped on in the darkness, and the hand, thus attired, begins to frolic playfully about the ears of the company, its clammy coldness having (to the imaginative) a charmingly corpse-like character, and provoking screams of delicious horror from the members of the “circle.”

But what are we to say to the mysterious hand which, in the “dim” but not particularly “religious” light of the all but extinguished gas, creeps from beneath the table-cover, and shows itself above the edge of the table (_testibus_ the late Serjeant Cox and other credible persons)? We do not undertake to give of this or any other “manifestation” an explanation which shall apply to _all_ recorded cases, each medium having his own peculiar _modus operandi_; but it will probably be in the recollection of the reader that this was one of the special “manifestations” of Dr. Monck, originally a Unitarian Minister, subsequently a professional medium, and ultimately adjudged, with unquestionable propriety, a rogue and vagabond, a year or two since. Dr. Monck was confessedly a medium of the first rank; indeed, notwithstanding the exposure at Huddersfield, we believe some of the more thorough-going spiritualists retain their faith in him still. By favour of Mr. Lodge, the gentleman to whose courage and acuteness the public are indebted for the exposure of a peculiarly mischievous impostor, we are enabled to give Dr. Monck’s special method of working this and a few other leading “manifestations.”

A dummy hand of small size, with the fingers slightly bent, is attached to a piece of broad elastic about three feet in length. This in turn is fastened to a belt round the performer’s waist, and thence passes down (say) his _left_ trouser leg, the hand reposing, when not wanted, within the garment, a few inches above the ancle. To the wrist of the hand is appended a kind of elastic sleeve of five or six inches in length. (In Monck’s case, if we remember right, it consisted of the upper portion of an ordinary sock.) The medium, thus prepared, takes his seat at one side of a square table, with an overhanging table-cover, allowing no one else to be seated at the same side of the table. (Those who had the privilege of seeing Dr. Monck produce this particular “manifestation” will remember that the above conditions were always strictly insisted on.) Some one present is requested to lower the gas. “A little lower, please. A little lower yet!” till, as a natural consequence, it goes out altogether. “Dear me!” says the medium, “I am extremely sorry! I did not intend you to turn it out. Pray light it again.” This is done, and it is again lowered, but this time only to a dim twilight. Meanwhile, under cover of the momentary darkness, the medium has quietly crossed his left foot over his right knee, pulled down the dummy hand, slipped the “sleeve” portion over the toe of his left boot, and, with the foot masked by the table-cover, calmly bides his time. Presently, on the right hand of the medium, something is seen to be moving under the table-cover, making apparent efforts to come out. The medium, at the same time, prepares the minds of the spectators by declaring that he sees a hand floating about,--that it has touched him, and so on. Presently he gradually draws his foot, still crossed over the right knee, from under the table-cover, and allows the hand to show itself just above the surface, the effect to the spectators being as in Fig. 30, the ridiculous reality as in Fig. 31. Dr. Monck went so far as to offer a set of “fairy bells” to the touch of the spirit hand, and partly by scraping the hand against the wires (or rather the wires against the hand), and partly by a judicious use of his own fingers, produced sounds which, though not particularly harmonious, passed muster fairly enough as the production of a hand without a body. The manifestation over, the performer has only to place the left foot on the ground, and with the other foot dislodge the dummy hand, which is forthwith spontaneously drawn back by the elastic band beneath the sheltering trouser. The gas being turned up, sceptical gentlemen may search beneath the table, but in vain.

The working of the above feat demands of course some amount of lissomness in the lower limbs, but nothing beyond what any ordinarily active man, particularly if of spare build, could readily accomplish after a week or so of practice. The use of the lower limbs in a quadrumanous fashion is a stock artifice among the mediums. There is little doubt that a good many of the manifestations of the notorious “Dr. Slade,” of Bow Street celebrity, were produced in this manner, his unusual length of limb being a great advantage to him. The medium in this case wears light Oxford shoes or Albert slippers, which can be readily slipped off or on. The tip of each sock is cut off, leaving the toes completely bare. Thus equipped, the medium has but to slip his shoe off under the table, and with the great and second toe he is enabled to pull ladies’ dresses, pinch gentlemen’s legs, ring a bell placed under the table, &c., &c.

A second speciality of Dr. Monck was a mysterious power of attraction, by virtue of which, tambourines, photographic albums, &c., moved in the twilight across the table _towards the medium_. If some daring sceptic asked the Doctor whether he could not induce them to move to one side, or in the opposite direction, he was wont discreetly to reply that he found it better “not to attempt to dictate to the spirits in such particulars.” The reader will appreciate the wisdom of this reply on hearing the explanation of the _modus operandi_. Like most great inventions, it is simplicity itself when explained. The trick literally hangs on a thread--a black silk thread of about 2 feet 6 inches long, with a bent pin at each end. One of these is hooked into the elastic side of the performer’s right boot, the other into the cloth of his trousers, at the point which tailors describe as the “fork.” To work the trick, the medium (the lights being first duly lowered), lifts the right foot on to the left knee, thereby slackening the thread, unhooks the upper bent pin, and attaches it to the edge of the tambourine, or hooks it into the surface of a sheet of paper, newspaper, or the like, on which some article has been placed. His hands may now lie motionless on the table, or even be securely grasped by inquirers on either side, for they have no more to do with the matter. A gradual extension of the right leg tightens the thread, and causes the article attached to it to move towards the performer. The arrangement above described does not admit of a movement in any other direction. Doubtless, Dr. Monck found his cool evasion of this little difficulty so readily accepted by the faithful, that it was hardly worth while to seek to conquer it, though an expert conjuror would find but little difficulty in doing so.

Another manifestation was the performance of the “spirit musical-box”: an ordinary musical-box, which, being placed on the table, and shielded from interference by, say, an empty cigar-box placed over it, played or ceased to play at the command of the medium.

This effect was produced by the aid of a _second_ musical-box, playing the same airs as the first, and attached by an elastic band to the leg of the medium, just above the bend of the knee, of course within the trouser. When not in use the box rested beneath the knee, but when required for action it was brought round to the front of the leg, resting above the knee. The box was so arranged that pressure upon a stud at top caused it to play, the music immediately ceasing when such pressure was removed. The working of the trick will now be clear. The box on the table remains silent throughout, but when it is commanded to play, the medium with his knee presses the concealed box against the under surface of the table, again relaxing the pressure when it is desired that the music shall cease. The illusion, so far as sound is concerned, is perfect.

The above explanations, be it remarked, are not merely speculative. Dr. Monck beat such a hurried retreat from the scene of his disaster, that he left all the above appliances, with others too numerous to mention, behind him. They were taken possession of by the chief constable of Huddersfield, and told their own tale to any skilled observer.

We could multiply instances almost _ad infinitum_. There is hardly a professional medium now before the public, who has not been, at some time or other, detected in barefaced imposture; and there is hardly a stock trick of the mediums (slate trick, writing on the ceiling, _et hoc genus omne_), that is not perfectly well known to legitimate conjurors, although, as a matter of professional policy, they find it more profitable to keep, than to expose, the secret. To those who have any lurking doubt as to the real nature of spiritualism, we cannot do better than commend a perusal of Mr. Maskelyne’s clever little book, “Modern Spiritualism,” wherein he has described, in a light and amusing form, the rise and progress of this most discreditable craze, and chronicled the exposures which the leading professors of the craft from time to time have met with. We are glad to note that he promises, at some future time, to supplement this work with another, explaining the whole secrets of the mediumistic art, a task which no man is better qualified to perform. Meanwhile, the seeker after truth combined with amusement cannot do better than pay a visit to the great anti-spiritualist himself at the Egyptian Hall, where he will witness “manifestations,” though introduced in comic guise, to the full as “genuine,” and infinitely more surprising, than the stock achievements of the spiritualists. Here he will see Mr. Cooke--though bound and sealed and enveloped in network from head to foot--ring bells, rattle tambourines, exhibit spirit-hands, &c., &c., finally carrying the cabinet with him in an aërial flight about the hall. Here he will find walking-sticks justify their name by walking spontaneously across the stage, tables defying not only the _vis inertiæ_ but the power of gravitation, tambourines that “rap” visibly in answer to questions, and, finally, see Mr. Maskelyne himself, not under the convenient shade of darkness, but illumined by a very respectable amount of gaslight, float gently upwards towards the roof of the hall. The reader who has carefully followed Robert-Houdin’s description of the “floating table” in an earlier section, may probably make a shrewd conjecture at the nature of the means (of course mechanical), by which this particular effect is produced.

Here we pause to anticipate an objection which will inevitably be raised by “true believers,” if any such chance to peruse these humble pages. “Mechanical means!” it will be said. “Of course! Mr. Maskelyne performs upon a stage, and has full command of stage appliances. But how do you account for the well-authenticated instances of the medium having been floated about the room in a house which he then visited for the first time, and where the use of any mechanical means for such a purpose was clearly out of the question?”

We do not pretend to account for it, gentle reader, for we utterly deny that any such impertinent interference with the laws of nature ever took place. The “well-authenticated instances” referred to have invariably happened in darkness, and the utmost the most positive person can say is, that during such darkness, something or other happened which _gave him the impression_ that the medium’s manly form had quitted _terra firma_, and was floating about the room. Now such an impression can be produced by the simplest possible means. Note the conditions. A circle of persons is seated in a room in total darkness; they are warned to expect something supernatural. They wait in this unpleasant expectation until they perforce become more or less nervous. They are kept in an attitude of fixed attention, which, long maintained, tends to merge, as the physiological student is well aware, into the “hypnotic” or morbidly impressionable state. Every creak of a chair, every sound, however minute, may be the outward and visible sign of a message from another world. Under such circumstances, when the musical-box spontaneously strikes up “Home, sweet Home!” when the medium remarks “I am leaving the floor; don’t notice me; talk of something else;” and then a shadowy something, with an unmistakable perfume of leather, passes over the heads of the assembled group, the heel of a boot perhaps resting lightly on a head or a shoulder in its passage,--who so sceptical as to doubt that the medium has really been “levitated” in the manner suggested? Who so sceptical, indeed? unless in truth he was aware, or was shrewd enough to suspect, that the medium, under cover of the darkness, had quietly taken off his boots, slipped them upon his hands, and gently moved them backwards and forwards over the heads of the awe-stricken investigators (Fig. 32).

The process of reasoning is obvious. “Here are the medium’s boots, floating in the air on a level with our faces. Where a man’s boots are, there his feet must be; and if a man’s feet are floating in the air, his whole body must be floating also. _Ergo_, we are henceforth prepared to make affidavit that the medium did at such and such a time actually float about such and such a room in our presence.”

Lest the simplicity of the explanations we have here given should tend to discredit their genuineness, we may remind the reader that the art of conjuring consists not half so much in doing wonderful things (for what is actually done is often very simple), as in persuading the spectator that wonderful things are done. It is a matter of common knowledge among conjurors, that not one spectator in a hundred, unless he be himself a conjuror, can give even a fairly correct account of what has been _visibly_ done in the performance of a trick. And if such be the case in broad gaslight and with every opportunity of observation, how much more is it likely to be so in darkness or semi-darkness, with scarce half of the physical senses permitted to be used, and the mental vision obscured by the belief or semi-belief of supernatural intervention.--ED.]