CONJUROR
DICK
by Professor Hoffmann
This work has been kindly donated to
The Learned Pig Project by Jim Hoy.
Conjuror Dick was published in 1885
and is not autobiographical as stated in
"
In the first edition--not this one--both
"Angelo Lewis" and "Professor
Hoffmann appeared on the title page.
This was corrected in all subsequent
editions. The "Professor" did not feel
that it was good for his legal practice to
have it generally known that he wrote
books on conjuring and related topics.
The first edition of this novel is the only
time his real name (Angelo Lewis) and
his nom de plume (Professor Hoffmann)
appeared in the same work.
"Conjuror Dick" is Professor
Hoffmann's only novel, although he
wrote numerous short stort stories, some
of which won literary awards.
Conjuror Dick
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
CONTENTS.
Early Recollections—-My Uncle Bumpus and the Plate-Warmer—-My
Aunt Priscilla—-An Interrupted Banquet—-Our Own Household—-Jemima
Jackett—-Domestic Diplomacy—-Our First-Floor Lodger—-An
Unfounded Suspicion
My First School—-A Sad Humiliation—-The Misses Potter and their Little
Weaknesses—-An Unrequited Attachment—-An Effectual Cure—-My
Second School
My First Introduction to the Major—-The "Other Things"—-A Delightful
Promise—-A Deadly Combat
Athletic Exercises—-The Noble Art of Self-Defence—-Our New
Gymnasium—-My First Pantomime Harlequin Der Freischiitz and the
Seven Bad Shots—-In Love with Columbine—-An Unexpected
Rival—-Disillusion
My First Visit to a Conjuring Entertainment-—My
Enthusiasm-—Extraordinary Indifference of Peter-—Early Studies in
Prestidigitation-—The Tribulations of a Neophyte
Dumpton College--A Rash Promise--The Major's Parting Advice--Showing
my Colours--A Struggle for Religious Liberty--An Unexpected
Victory--Wanted by the Vice-Principal--All Well that Ends Well--The Last
of Gunter.
My First Appearance as a Conjurer—Preliminary Preparations—My
Programme—A New Remedy for Nervousness—Grandfather's Clock—A
Breakdown in the Musical Department—A Flying Egg—The Wanderings
of a Halfpenny—Curious Effects of the Human Breath—The Mysterious
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Die—The Magic Hornpipe
The Second Part of my Entertainment—The Phoenix Card—A Mysterious
Disappearance—The Inexhaustible Bottle—A Cure for Greediness—The
Doctor's Speech
Home for the Holidays—Peter in Low Spirits—Attempts at
Consolation—Peter Runs Away—Breaking the News—Return to Dumpton
College—At Home Once More—Showing Off—An Awful Retribution—A
Moral Safety Valve
The Last of my Reprieve—The Modern Cagliostro—An Unexpected
Opening—Testing my Capabilities—Assistant to a Conjurer
My Flight—A Wizard at Home—The Professor and his Family—Madame
Linda and the Duchess—My New Quarters—A Big Box and a Small
Bedroom—The Difficulty Solved
Reconnoitring the Premises—Lily and her Dog Tip—The "Second Sight"
Trick—Beginning Work—Gimp the Money-Taker—The Professor's
Programme—Opinions of the Press—Behind the Scenes—Learning my
Business
Breaking the News of my Flight—Mistaken Suppositions—The Lack of a
Dress-coat—My First Experiences as a Gentleman Usher—Awkward
Customers—Money-making Extraordinary—A Sceptic Convinced—An
Enchanted Handkerchief—A Light-headed Gentleman
The Clairvoyance Trick—Mesmeric Influence—The Suspended
Wand—The Obedient Ball—The Fairy Violante—The Morality of
Conjuring
Professor Ledoyen—Card-Conjuring Extraordinary—Appealing to the
"Spirits"—A Transformation Trick—A Dazzling Promise
The Sober Side of Conjuring—A Magician at Rehearsal—Exhausted
Energies—A Dangerous Remedy—A Remarkable Hat—An Enthusiastic
Amateur—Lessons in Magic—A New Occupation
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Starting for a Country Tour—Brighton—Walks with Lily—The Professor's
Religious Opinions—A Visit to Oxford—A Liar Exposed
Crossing the Channel—A Life on the Ocean Wave—Gimp on Steamboat
Travelling—A Visit to Ostend—The Chevalier d'Arras—Poor Fred
Howard—A Tragical History—Pointing a Moral
Bruges—Ghent—Brussels—A Serious Dilemma—The Only Way out of
it—A Bed-chamber Rehearsal—The Mysteries of "Make-Up"—My first
Public Show—Washing the Paint off—An Unexpected Meeting—Putting
Things in a New Light—Letters from Home
Arrival in Paris—Gastronomic Experiences—Gimp Missing—The
Morgue—Return of the Prodigal—The History of his Adventures—An
Epicurean Banquet—Presenting the Bill
The Gingerbread Fair—A Trip by Rail—Merry-go-Rounds
Extraordinary—Sea on Land—A Montagne Russe—The
Shooting-Galleries—The Encyclopedie Methodique—The Tonquinese
Dwarf and the Fair Cleopatra
A Spiritualistic Seance—Harmonising the Influences—Too Much
Light—Remarkable Manifestations —The Sceptical Doctor—The
Professor open to Conviction—The Third Sitting—A Sudden
Illumination—Discomfiture of the Medium—"How it was
Done"—Supplementary Revelations
Departure from Paris—A Round of Watering-Places—The Professor going
to the Bad—Lily—Hopes and Fears—A Terrible Verdict—Returning to
Brighton —The Beginning of the End—A Last Promise—Lily's
Legacy—Dust to Dust—A Faithful Friend
Stricken Household—A Gallant Struggle—Victory at Last—A Council of
War—Shall we go to America?—Hesitation—A Letter from the
Major—The Death of Uncle Bumpus—Attending the Funeral—The
Reading of the Will—Refusing a Legacy—A Family
Conclave—Unexpected Revelations
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
|
CHAPTER I.
Early Recollections—-My Uncle Bumpus and the Plate-Warmer—-My Aunt
Priscilla—-An Interrupted Banquet—-Our Own Household—-Jemima
Jackett—-Domestic Diplomacy—-Our First-Floor Lodger—-An Unfounded
Suspicion.
I
NTERROGATING my memory for the purposes of this history, I find
that the most prominent positions among my early recollections are
occupied by my Uncle Bumpus, and a plate-warmer. I should be disposed,
indeed, to give the place of honour to the plate-warmer, as involving the
pleasanter associations. It was a small sheet-iron cupboard on four legs,
japanned red externally, and black internally. I am inclined to believe that
the outside had been originally red and gold, but on this point I feel bound
to speak with caution. It had shelves inside, and a door in front, but,(herein
resembling the poor savage)
"Whose untutored mind
Clothes him in front, but leaves him bare behind,"
it was open in the rear, in order, no doubt, when placed before a fire, to
allow free access of caloric to the plates within. People don't make such
plate-warmers now. Possibly they passed away with the open
kitchen-ranges; or possibly they were not found, as plate-warmers, a
success. The calm judgment of maturer years suggests that they would be
apt to make one edge of the plate unpleasantly hot, while leaving the
opposite extremity comparatively cold, but no such irreverent doubts
troubled my juvenile mind; indeed, I question whether I ever regarded our
plate-warmer in the light of a plate-warmer at all. In its normal position it
figured as a Punch-and-Judy Show, a pulpit, a robbers' cave, shops of
various kinds, and even, on emergency, as a light-house. Laid on its face it
became a boat, an open carriage, or a railway truck. On its back it
represented an old oak chest or the entrance to a subterranean passage, and
on its side a wine cellar, a house to let, and a wild beast-show. Once, it was
Spurgeon's Tabernacle. We hadn't the least idea what a tabernacle was; and
in later years, on actually visiting the edifice in question, I remember
thinking, with almost a sense of injury, that it wasn't a bit like the
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plate-warmer. On one occasion, in our very early days, my brother Peter
caused me great anguish of mind, and made me weep bitterly, by
suggesting that the plate-warmer should represent a Catacomb. Why I
should have drawn the line at catacombs, I don't know, for I had never seen
one, but the proposal caused me so much distress that Peter, who was a
good-natured boy, gave up the point at once, and we compounded for an
Asylum instead.
Quite recently, at an evening party, I was introduced to a partner, with the
words "This young lady is an old acquaintance of yours, Mr. Hazard." The
lady gave me her hand with a blush and a smile, saying as she did so, "You
haven't forgotten your old friend Nelly Barnes, Mr. Hazard?" I looked at
her, and began to ransack the outlying districts of my memory, but in vain. I
would have given a great deal, under the circumstances, to be able to say
that I had not forgotten Nelly Barnes, for Nelly Barnes was a remarkably
pretty girl, but for the life of me I could not recall even her name. As for my
having intimately known the fair damsel whose laughing eyes were
enjoying my discomfiture, it seemed impossible. "You must help me," I
said at last. "Crushing as the confession is, I really don't remember you." "It
is too bad of you to have forgotten," she said, "though it is a good many
years ago. Don't you remember Tilbury Street, and the fun we used to have
with the dear old plate-warmer?" The allusion to the plate-warmer lighted
up the darkened chambers of my memory. The mystery was solved. Many
years before, my fair friend's parents and mine had been next-door
neighbours, though I might well be excused for not having at once
recognized my little playfellow of six in the white-shouldered Juno of
six-and-twenty who stood beside me. Explaining my lapse of memory on
this ground I soon obtained absolution, and we spent a great portion of the
evening very pleasantly in reviving old recollections. I tried to drift away
from the plate-warmer, which somehow seemed to spoil the romance of the
thing, but it was to no purpose. We could no more keep it out of our joint
reminiscences than Mr. Dick could keep Charles the First's head out of his
Memorial.
The second figure, as I have stated, that stands out prominently in my
recollections of my early years is that of my Uncle Bumpus. Strictly
speaking, he was my great uncle, having been an uncle of my father, but he
was always called by the shorter title. Viewing Uncle Bumpus (like the
plate-warmer) with the more impartial judgment of later years, I am
inclined to believe that he may have been a harmless, well-meaning old
gentleman, but to my childish fancy he appeared a sort of malevolent Djinn,
an incarnation of the all-work-and-no-play (and-very-little-pocket-money)
principle, which of all things is most abhorrent to the healthy juvenile mind.
He was a draper in the Tottenham Court Road, and a deacon of a religious
fraternity known as Particular Baptists. What may have been their tenets I
haven't the remotest idea, but I am clear about the name, because I
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remember wondering whether all the other Baptists were as particular as
Uncle Bumpus. He was a little man, with a tendency to what is politely
known as a "corporation," walked very upright, dressed always in black,
with a white necktie, and wore his hair very short and brushed upwards,
without any parting, suggesting to the casual spectator an angry hedgehog.
He wore a gigantic silver watch, which he hauled up from the depths of a
mysterious pocket (known, I believe as a 'fob') by means of a bunch of seals
attached to a broad black ribbon. His increasing stoutness made this a
matter of increasing difficulty; indeed, it was only by holding his breath and
drawing in his waist that he was able to extract it at all, and the same
process had to be gone through to replace it. Knowing this, my brother
Peter and myself took a mischievous pleasure in asking him the time
whenever we could find the slightest excuse for doing so. He was very deaf,
but it was not safe to trust to his deafness, for like a good many deaf people,
he had an aggravating knack of catching just the word or sentence which
was least intended for his hearing. His house was kept for him by a maiden
sister, known to us youngsters as Aunt Priscilla, or more shortly, Aunt Pris.
She was, in her way, quite as great an oddity as her brother. She was very
tall, and made herself seem taller still by wearing three large braids of
obviously false hair, arranged in tiers above her forehead, and an immense
cap, profusely decorated with flowers and ribbons, above all. Though not
far short of sixty, and looking her full age, she always regarded herself as
one of the "young people," and took every occasion to intimate by such
phrases as "if I ever marry," or even sometimes, "when I marry," that she by
no means considered herself out of the matrimonial running. I noticed that
she did not usually make any remark of this kind in her brother's presence,
but on one occasion, I remember, she chanced to use the latter sentence just
as Uncle Bumpus entered the room, and with his usual knack of hearing
what was not intended for him, he caught the words. He looked sternly at
her, grunted, rather than said, "When—pigs—fly!" and went out again.
Aunt Priscilla made no reply, but she was evidently wounded, for she
sniffed audibly, and made little surreptitious dabs at her eyes with the
corner of her pocket handkerchief, at intervals during the remainder of the
evening. She affected to be in very delicate health; indeed, I never knew her
to admit that she was perfectly well. We boys used now and then, for the
sake of fun, to compliment her on her appearance. "Yes, my dear, I look
well, I daresay," she would reply; "it's the misfortune of highly nervous
organisations, like mine, to look well, even under the most unfavourable
circumstances. But I'm far from strong, far from strong, I assure you."
Another little fiction in which Aunt Pris. indulged was that of having an
extremely small appetite. "Thank you, it must be the 'weeniest' little bit in
the world," she would say, on being asked to partake of anything at table;
but the succession of "weeny" little bits mounted up, before the close of the
meal, to a very substantial total. Uncle Bumpus, who understood her
weaknesses, was accustomed to ignore altogether her expressed desire for a
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very minute allowance, and to help her, on the contrary, to very liberal
portions; but when, as occasionally happened, she was served by a stranger
who took her at her word, poor Aunt Priscilla's little manoeuvres to
supplement the deficiency were most amusing. She was extremely
good-natured, and though a careful housekeeper, was always very kind and
liberal to my brother and myself. Many a shilling and half-a-crown have we
had slipped into our hands by Aunt Priscilla, and to go to tea with her was
quite an event in our juvenile lives. After one of these occasions (this must
have been something special, I think) Peter declared that he had counted no
less than eleven sorts of cake and pastry on the tea-table. I could only
remember nine, myself, and am inclined to think Peter must have been
drawing the long bow a little, but there were very frequently six or seven
varieties, and Aunt Priscilla enjoyed them as much as anybody. These little
festivities were always arranged to take place when Uncle Bumpus was
absent, for he was as closefisted as his sister was liberal. She would never
admit that he was stingy, but allowed that he was a little "near." I have
never quite understood how this particular expression comes to have the
meaning of parsimonious, but it was so far appropriate to Uncle Bumpus,
that we constantly wished him farther. He owned some houses, let to
weekly tenants, in the neighbourhood of the Old Kent Road, and devoted
every Monday afternoon to the collection of his rents. This was Aunt
Priscilla's opportunity, and her little festivities generally took place at five
o'clock on a Monday evening, which allowed of tea being well over and the
tea-things cleared away before Uncle Bumpus returned at half-past seven.
On one memorable occasion (it was a Whit-Monday, I think, and most of
the tenants had gone on the spree, and had taken their rent with them) he
returned at half-past five, in a very bad humour, and appeared
unexpectedly, like a corpulent skeleton, in the middle of our banquet.
"Hullo, hullo, hullo-o-o," he said. "What's all this, and how come you boys"
(he invariably alluded to us as "you boys") "here? And what's this
extravagant spread for?" I hardly know which of us was most discomfited,
Aunt Priscilla or myself. Peter, who was a boy of unusual presence of mind,
had slipped a basket of strawberries under the table, and was surreptitiously
eating them, with the view, as he afterwards explained, of just "getting them
out of the way." Aunt Priscilla began a troubled apology to the effect that it
was Peter's birthday last Tuesday fortnight, intending it, I suppose, to be
inferred that we were keeping it then. "Birthday, fiddlesticks!" said Uncle
Bumpus, fortunately overlooking the slight discrepancy in point of date. "If
it is his birthday, there's no need to eat us all out of house and home. And
what's all this pastry-cook trash for? Why can't you give the boys good
wholesome bread-and-butter? That's what I was brought up on, and look at
Me!" We did look at him, though without experiencing the dazzling effect
which he seemed to anticipate.
"You may as well give me a cup of tea," he continued, plumping down on
the horsehair sofa, and wiping his face with a lively red-cotton
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pocket-handkerchief. "All the way to the Old Kent Road and back for a
beggarly fifteen shillings, confound 'em! Not a soul at home but old Bodger
the tailor, and the lame charwoman at number eleven, and both of them
drunk! All the rest out spending their money(their money! (my money!
(every man Jack of them; and now they'll all be a week behind, and want
me to take it out in greengrocery, or shrimps, or watercresses, or some such
fiddle-faddle. I'll give 'em a taste of the brokers, or my name's not Peter
Bumpus. (What's this rubbish?" The "rubbish" referred to was a plate of
three-cornered jam tarts, of a kind Peter and I particularly affected, and
which we had not yet touched. Uncle Bumpus took one of them between his
finger and thumb, and made a comprehensive bite at it.. Not being prepared
for the fragility of the structure, he squeezed it a little too hard, and it went
to pieces under the shock, leaving a jammy wreck between his fingers. He
looked at it with scorn, and cleared the remainder at another mouthful.
"Regular imposition!" he grunted, taking up another, but handling it this
time more tenderly. "What's the good" (here one third vanished) "of an
empty thing" (another third went the same way) "like this?" (the last
fragment disappeared). "And they're all alike. Look at this one,(worse than
ever! A downright fraud, I call it." He punctuated his sentences by
successive bites. "And nasty bilious trash,"(here he picked up the last
remaining tart("in the bargain, without a particle of satisfaction in a whole
plateful of 'em." We at any rate had experienced very little satisfaction from
them, and looked at each other with expressions of countenance far beyond
my feeble power to depict. If an elderly Ghoul had suddenly dropped into
the midst of our little party, we could hardly have been more disgusted.
Having finished the three-corners, he turned his attention to the jam-roll,
which he was pleased to consider not quite such an imposition as the tarts.
He did not pronounce rashly, however, but confirmed his first impression
by a series of tests which reduced the dish in a most heart-rending manner.
Peter had disposed of the strawberries, or they would doubtless have met a
similar fate. Finally, adding insult to injury, he declared that the whole lot
wasn't worth a slice of good wholesome bread-and-butter, and he begged
Aunt Priscilla that the next time she had us to tea (his tone implying that he
hoped it would be a considerable time first) she would give us good stale
bread-and-butter, and if we wanted a relish, we could sprinkle a pinch of
salt over it. Stale bread-and-butter, and a pinch of salt! And this from the
man who had just devoured the whole of our three-corners, and the best part
of our jam-roll! I don't think I am naturally of a vengeful disposition, but if
some good fairy had offered, on that evening, to confine Uncle Bumpus
(irrespective of size) in the plate-warmer for the rest of his natural life, I
believe I should have accepted the offer without hesitation.
Of our own household I need not speak at any length. My father died when
I was a baby in arms, and our family consisted of my mother, my brother
Peter, myself, and last, though not least, a faithful but occasionally
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tyrannical domestic of Cornish origin, named Jemima Jackett. My mother
was a good little soul and most devoted parent, with an intense desire
always to do the right thing, but rather weak, and apt to change her mind,
sometimes two or three times in an hour, as to what was the right thing. She
was always greatly swayed by the last speaker. It frequently happened that
after Peter and I had persuaded her to allow us some coveted indulgence,
Uncle Bumpus would drop in, and hearing what was intended, forthwith set
himself (as I verily believe out of pure aggravation) against it, and in the
course of a few minutes persuade her into an exactly contrary way of
thinking. Fortunately we had a powerful ally in the person of Jemima. She
was short, squat, and scant of breath, but of dauntless courage, and in such a
case she was always on our side. She ruled us with a rod of iron herself, but
Uncle Bumpus was her abomination, and whatever he resisted she
supported, and vice versa I once heard her call him (behind his back, of
course) "a interfering old armadillo." Where she got the expression, I
cannot say. Zoologically speaking, perhaps it can hardly be justified, but
Peter and I thought it admirable, and privately referred to Uncle Bumpus as
"the armadillo" for many months afterwards. As soon as Uncle Bumpus had
departed, after upsetting our plans on such an occasion as I have referred to,
say a cricket match, or a boating excursion we wished to take part in, we
forthwith betook ourselves to Jemima, and enlisted her sympathies. The fact
that Uncle Bumpus considered that the thing could not and should not be
done was sufficient to convince her that it could and should. "Lor, mum,"
she used to say, "the poor dear boys, they do have so little pleasure. It's a
dull house for 'em, mum, with only you and me, and young people will be
young people, mum. It's nateral, ain't it, now? Some people forgets, I think,
that they ever was young (an' I don't believe they was, neither). An'
Wednesday, mum, was just the day I'd set apart in my own mind to scrub
out the young gentlemen's room, and they'd be terrible in the way if they
was at home. I was just thinkin', mum, hoar we could manage to get rid of
'em for the day, and just in the nick o' time this little trip turns up, quite
providential-like. I do hope you'll let 'em go, mum. Lor' bless 'ee, they won't
take no harm, they'm too careful for that. And tell 'ee what, mum, I'll make
a couple o' nice pasties Tuesday evening, for 'em to take with 'em. There
now." Peter and I said nothing, for we knew by experience that it was best
to leave all argument in the hands of our advocate, but we put on the most
appealing expression of which we were capable, and my mother almost
invariably gave in. "Oh dear, oh dear, I don't know what to do," she would
say. "Mr. Bumpus has gone away with the understanding that they are not
to go on any account, but if you are really going to clean out their room on
Wednesday, Jemima, perhaps it would be as well to have them out of the
way. I must think it over, and perhaps, when the time comes(" She never
finished the sentence, keeping up the fiction to the last of treating the matter
as an open question, but when we got to this point, we knew we were all
right. Jemima was too good a tactician to press her victory further, but with
a significant grin at us, and "that's right, mum, you just turn it over in your
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mind," to my mother, disappeared down the kitchen stairs. When the time
came there was generally no further question, but we started off on the
coveted excursion, with the tacit understanding that nothing was to be said
upon the subject to Uncle Bumpus. Whether this mode of doing things
tended to promote a high moral tone I will not stay to inquire, but I don't
think it did us much harm, Uncle Bumpus being regarded by Peter and
myself as a sort of exceptional enemy, to circumvent whom all possible
means were lawful, and his perpetual and gratuitous interference in our
doings really gave some ground for our so regarding him.
My father had been an artist. It was a family tradition that he lived beyond
his income, but candour compels me to admit that if his income was solely
derived from the sale of his works, as exemplified by the specimens in our
front parlour, it is not at all surprising that he did live beyond it. He died
when I was so young that I have no personal recollection of him. My
mother's income was very limited, consisting of a life interest in some small
houses, and a couple of thousand pounds in the Funds; which, after her
death, would become divisible between Peter and myself. She had,
however, great expectations, on our behalf more than her own, from Uncle
Bumpus, who, by dint of constant saving and screwing, had amassed a
considerable fortune for a man in his station of life. Next to Aunt Priscilla,
we were his nearest relatives, and the remembrance of this, I daresay,
contributed a good deal to the somewhat excessive deference my mother
paid to his opinions. Peter and myself were of an age which, happily, is not
much affected by mercenary motives, and were not at all disposed to
worship the golden calf, even in the person of Uncle Bumpus.
We lived in a small house in the neighbourhood of Camden Town, my
mother supplementing her income by letting the first floor to a lodger. He
was an elderly gentleman of very quiet habits, but Peter and I regarded him
with great awe, not to say terror, arising from the belief that he was a
Dentist. The only evidence in support of our theory was the fact (reported
by Jemima) that he had some very curious and bloodthirsty-looking
instruments in a cabinet in his bedroom. We used to ask Jemima every now
and then, in an awe-struck whisper, whether she had seen "the instruments"
again, and made her describe them for our edification. I am afraid she drew
a good deal on her imagination, for on Peter and myself (in later years)
organising ourselves into an exploring party, and making a private search,
during his temporary absence, in the old gentleman's apartments, we could
find nothing but a pocket set of carpenter's tools, and some mathematical
instruments. Jemima stoutly maintained that these were not the instruments
she meant, and that Mr. Digby must have taken them with him, but she
seemed a good deal confused; and it has since struck me that she invented
the story as a kind of pious fraud in order to keep Peter and myself out of
the old gentleman's apartments. If so, it certainly had the desired effect, for
we regarded the rooms in question as children in the good old times may
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have regarded the parochial torture-chamber, and even shrunk close to the
wall whenever we met Mr. Digby on the stairs, in deadly fear lest he should
ask to look at our teeth, a request which we knew, by painful experience, to
he the precursor of much personal discomfort. If he attempted to pat our
heads fled in terror. My mother has since assured me that Mr. Digby was a
retired architect, and never pulled a tooth out in his life; but to this day I
cannot completely dissever him, in my own mind, from the sanguinary
associations connected with his imagined occupation, and on making a
recent visit to Antwerp, and inspecting the horrible dungeons of the Steen,
used as places of torture by the Inquisition under Charles V., I was instantly
reminded of Mr. Digby's first-floor.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER II.
My First School--A Sad Humiliation--The Misses Potter and their Little
Weaknesses--An Unrequited Attachment--An Effectual Cure--My Second
School.
T
HE first event of any importance in my youthful history (as, indeed, I
suppose, in most people's youthful history) was the being sent to school.
There was no meddling School Board in those days, and Peter and I
received our education at my mother's hands up to the age of about nine or
ten. Peter must have been about the latter age, or a little more, I myself
being a year and a half younger, when it was decided, under pressure, I
fancy, from Uncle Bumpus, that we were getting too big for home tuition,
and must be sent to school. Peter was sent to a regular boys' school, but in
consideration of my tender years it was thought by my mother that I had
better undergo a little preliminary preparation at a hybrid establishment,
kept by the Misses Potter. It was professedly a ladies' school, but admitted a
few young gentlemen of very tender age to share in the instruction given. I
felt keenly the ignominy, as it appeared to me, of being sent to a girls'
school, and pleaded hard to be allowed to go to the same school as Peter.
Uncle Bumpus, on this occasion, was on my side. "What d'ye want to
mollycoddle the boy for?" he said; "they'll always take two cheaper than
one;" but in this instance, backed by Jemima, my mother stood firm. There
were no kindergartens in those days, and she would not send a delicate
child like myself to be knocked about among a parcel of rough boys. (I am
not aware that I was delicate in the least, but that was her way of putting it.)
She did not like sending even Peter to a boys' school, but the Misses Potter
would not receive any boy over ten, so she had no alternative. Accordingly,
one fine day, Peter marched off in one direction, and I, attended by Jemima,
in another. My mother had made each of us a green tammy bag, wherein to
carry our books, and at the bottom reposed a packet of sandwiches, in case
we should feel faint during school-hours(a rather excessive precaution, by
the way, seeing that we were to return home for dinner at mid-day. Peter so
far justified my mother's extra care for myself as to return home with a
black eye, but otherwise in the best of spirits, and much pleased with his
new school. I was inclined to envy him, for I had in those days long golden
ringlets, and the girls had been pulling them, more or less, all the morning.
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My school was a very small one, consisting of seven girls and three boys, of
whom I was the oldest. The school was held in a couple of rooms,
separated, when needful, by folding doors. The back room was used as a
class-room for the repetition of lessons; the other contained two long desks,
and two very hard forms, on which we sat at other times. Miss Patience or
Miss Patty Potter, and sometimes both of them, sat at a table in the front
room, elevated on a little platform, about ten inches high.
What the platform was for I really can't say. It could hardly be to give them
a better view of the pupils, the most distant of whom was not more than
fifteen feet off. I am inclined to think that the Misses Potter somehow felt
taller on the platform, and that it formed a part in their own minds of the
"moral suasion" on which they laid great stress in the prospectus, and which
formed a stock topic of conversation in discussions with parents and
guardians. Miss Patience. who was the elder, took charge of history,
geography, and French. She had once been told (by a Native) that her "Oui"
was perfect, and this little incident was invariably mentioned to the friends
of pupils whenever the subject of French could by any possibility be led up
to. The ingenuity displayed by Miss Patience in this particular was
remarkable. Starting from the most unpromising regions (say, Miss
Thompson's chilblains, or Miss Simpson's loss of her pocket-handkerchief),
the conversation would work round and round, Miss Patty dexterously
assisting, until Miss Patience was able to say, quoting the very words (and
accent) of the native, with his hand on his heart, "Truly, madame, your 'Oui'
is pair-r-rfect."
Miss Patience was inclined to be stout, and wore a cap. Miss Patty, on the
contrary, was very slim, with little corkscrew curls, and a red pointed nose,
and always smelt powerfully of coffee. Miss Patty took charge of the
arithmetical, drawing, and writing departments; and the smell of coffee, as
she bent over our shoulders to correct our sums or set our copies, was
almost overpowering. Even at this distant date, I am satisfied that I could
not write "Procrastination is the thief of time," or "Evil communications
corrupt good manners," without holding my breath to avoid the scent of
coffee which I should instinctively expect to accompany them.
Notwithstanding Miss Party's penchant for coffee, and a corresponding
weakness on the part of Miss Patience for snuff, they were a pair of very
charming old ladies, who did their duty most conscientiously by their
pupils, and I shall always remember them with respect and affection.
Here, by the way, I experienced my first love affair. The course of true love
never does run smooth, it is said, and the proverb was certainly verified in
my case. I, Dick Hazard (aged nine), was smitten with a devouring passion
for the head girl, Carrie Owen. There were two or three of the smaller
pupils who would have been quite ready to reciprocate my affection, but
(such is the way of the world) I treated them with the profoundest
indifference. Carrie Owen was four years older, and nearly a head taller
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than myself, and I regarded her (possibly on that account) with a feeling
bordering on adoration.
I had never told my love, but I strove to show it by various little delicate
attentions; I even concealed half-pennyworths of acidulated drops in her
desk, and watched, with intense eagerness, to see her find them. The first
time all went well. She did not, it is true, exhibit any particular anxiety to
know whence they came, but merely remarking, "I say, here are some
acid-drops," divided them with her special friend, Bertha Rogers. The
second, time I was less fortunate. It was very warm weather, and I had
carried my little offering in my pocket for a day or two before I could find
an opportunity to place it in Carrie's desk unobserved. Meanwhile, the
acid-drops had grown gradually stickier and stickier, until at last they had
settled into a sort of gummy lump, of by no means appetising appearance.
However, I carefully separated them, stuck them one by one upon a nice
clean sheet of paper, torn out of my own ciphering-book (for which I got an
imposition, by the way), and slipped them surreptitiously into my beloved's
desk. As ill luck would have it, Carrie was in a hurry to get home that
morning, and as soon as school was dismissed, popped her books quickly
into her desk, without looking into it. Down came the books on my
unfortunate acid-drops, and by the time Carrie went to her desk in the
afternoon, they had attached themselves, like so many limpets, to the
binding. Carrie was furious, and declared that if she could only find out
who put the nasty sticky things in her desk she would slap her face for her.
She quite made up her mind that one of the other girls had done it to play
her a trick, and Miss Patience further harrowed up my feelings by
describing my little delicate attention as a disgusting practical joke.
I had quite intended, on the strength of this second offering, to make an
open declaration of my affection, but under the circumstances thought it
better to wait for a more favourable opportunity. Not many days afterwards
an opening seemed to present itself. We were having a geography lesson;
Carrie was at the top of the class, and I was second. Carrie was asked what
was the capital of Prussia, but not having learnt her lesson quite as well as
usual, failed to answer, I knew, but wouldn't answer, lest I should be
compelled to take my beloved one down, and the answer was given by the
next in order, a little girt named Mary Tracy, who forthwith "went up" to
the top of the class. Of course I lost a place too, but I gloried in the thought
that I had done so for my beloved's sake, and I determined that she should
know that it was so. Accordingly, after school was over, I took the
opportunity of saying to her privately, "I say, Carrie" (we usually prefaced
any very important announcement with "I say"), "guess why I didn't answer
the capital of Prussia, in geography class just now." "Because you didn't
know it, I suppose, stupid," she replied. "No, indeed," I said, drawing nearer
to her, and speaking with great impressiveness, "that wasn't the reason at
all. I knew it all the time, but I wouldn't say it, because I didn't want to take
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you down." "Then if you did know it," she rejoined, "you are a nasty little
toad for not whispering it to me, and saving me my place, instead of letting
that little conceited puss Mary Tracy get to the top. So just take that!"
"That" was a slap, which made my face tingle for several minutes; but even
this did not cure me of my misplaced affection. I have always had an
instinctive love of fair play, and I reflected that after all there was
something to be said for Carrie's view of the matter. My devotion had not
saved her place in the class, and if she was to lose it, it did not very much
matter whether I was the gainer, or Mary Tracy. Again I thought it better to
postpone my declaration, but one Wednesday afternoon as we were going
home, I took heart of grace, and said boldly, "Carrie, I love you." The
heartless girl's only reply was "You Shrimp!" after which she tossed her
head, and running on to overtake her friend Bertha Rogers, who was a few
yards in front, she unmistakably told her the whole story, at the same time
pointing me out with derisive gestures. This last straw broke the back of my
affections. Like the swain in the ballad, who complains
"She might have been right in rejecting my love,
But why did she kick me down stairs?"
I felt that my honest affection had been treated with unwarrantable
disrespect. Shrimp! indeed! The cure was painful, but it was complete.
From that day forward, to a comparatively advanced age, I became a
confirmed misogynist, and regarded girls in their proper light, as a rather
inferior kind of boys.
The only other incident that stands out with any clearness from my school
life at the Misses Potter's, is my being kissed and called a "nice little
fellow" by a lady who came to visit the school. She was a very
good-looking lady, and I don't think I should mind it so much now, but at
the time it took me down tremendously. I felt that as long as I continued at
a girls' school I should be constantly exposed to such outrages, and I
plagued my mother, without ceasing, to take me away and put me at a
"proper" school. In spite of my remonstrances, however, I remained for two
years under the care of the Misses Potter, after which, in consideration
partly of my own entreaties, and partly of my having passed the canonical
limit of age for male pupils at that academy, my mother did take me away,
and placed me at the same school with Peter. At the same time, my
obnoxious ringlets, against which I had long protested, but in vain, were cut
off, and I felt that I had now really made a fair start on the road to
manhood.
My new school was a large middle-class establishment, numbering over
two hundred pupils. As usually happens in these big schools, the amount of
progress made depended mainly on the pupil himself. A clever and
hard-working boy was pushed forward, and got on rapidly, while the dull
and indolent were left to lag behind. Fortunately for myself, I was fairly
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bright and fairly industrious and I made pretty good progress. In other
respects, too, I got on very comfortably. The tone of the school was good.
There was very little bullying, though I found, now and then, that having a
big brother to take one's part was a decided advantage. I stayed at this
school for three years, and was lucky enough to carry off, at each
Midsummer examination, one or more prizes. I was slow at arithmetic and
mathematics generally, but I was pretty good at history and geography, and
I had further rather a talent for languages, which, on two different
occasions, won me a prize for French, and afterwards proved of
considerable service to me.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER III.
My First Introduction to the Major--The Other Things--A Delightful
Promise--A Deadly Combat.
O
N RETURNING home from school with Peter one afternoon, we found
sitting with my mother a gentleman, at that time a stranger to us, but who
was destined to have a very great influence on my life. Such mixture of
good as there may be in the queer piece of patchwork that serves me for a
character(the instinctive love of what is good and true, and hatred of what is
mean and base(I owe, under God, chiefly to Major Manly. He had been a
schoolfellow and special friend of my father, and now, after spending the
greater part of his life in India, had returned to end his days in England.
Almost his first act, on returning to his native land, had been to look up the
widow of his old friend, and the tears with which my mother's eyes were
filled showed what tender memories had been recalled by his visit. He rose
at our entrance, and gave a hand to each of us with a hearty grip. "And these
are your boys, poor Dick's boys? Good boys, too, I'll be bound, or they're
not like their father before them. Come, lads, let's have a good look at you."
We looked at him with a smile, half gratified, half shamefaced, and he
looked, not at us, as it seemed to me, but through us, in return. The first
thing one noticed about the Major was his eyes(they were grey, and clear,
with a pleasant twinkle; ordinary eyes enough to describe, but by no means
ordinary eyes to look at. If ever a brave white soul looked out of a man's
eyes, it did so from Major Manly's. You felt instinctively that the man who
owned those eyes did not know what fear was, and that through storm or
sunshine, evil repute or good repute, he would hold to what he believed to
be the right. And the clear gaze of the Major's eyes seemed not only to
indicate his character, but, by some mesmeric power, to control one's own.
As for telling a fib or a scandalous story with those eyes fixed upon you, it
would have been simply impossible. And his voice was just what you
would expect from his eyes, cheery and pleasant, with the unmistakable
ring of truth and honour. One felt that whatever that voice affirmed was
true, and whatever that voice ordered must, somehow or other, be done. An
old brother-officer of the Major has told me that in their Indian battles with
the Sikhs, in the most desperate emergency the soldiers would always rally
round the Major. Wherever his clear tones were heard, new spirit seemed
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infused into the men, and more than once, though himself severely
wounded, the magic influence of his presence and assistance had snatched
victory out of the very jaws of defeat. This, however, only came to my
knowledge long afterwards. My first impression of him is that of an upright,
active-looking gentleman of middle height, deeply tanned with the sun, and
from fifty to sixty years of age. His hair, which he wore very short, was
nearly white; his moustache and eyebrows iron-gray. With the exception of
his moustache, he was closely shaven. There was a deep, white scar, as
from a sword-cut, on his left temple, and he walked somewhat stiffly, from
the effects of a gunshot wound in the right knee.
My mother answered for us (a little overstating the facts, perhaps) that we
were very good boys. "That's right," said the Major, drawing us down on
the sofa beside him, and placing an arm round each of us. "Dick Hazard's
sons must have sadly degenerated, if they were not good boys. Not too
good, you know, lads; we don't want old heads on young shoulders; but
brave honest lads, leading pure lives, and telling the truth, and honouring
the dear, good mother here, as mothers deserve to be honoured. That's the
sort of boy I like to see." (I can't answer for Peter, but somehow the Major's
words seemed to sketch in my mind a sort of ideal boy, distinctly superior
to any boy of my acquaintance, and made me feel that I should very much
like(I don't know that I went further than that, for the moment(to be that
kind of boy.) "Well," he continued, "and now let's hear what you are
doing(let's see, what's your name, old fellow?"
"Peter," replied my brother.
"Peter?" echoed the Major, turning to my mother. "How's that? why not
Richard, like his father?"
"Peter is called after an old bachelor uncle," replied my mother. "This is
Dick."
"Oh," said the Major, with a twinkle in his eye. "Metallic reasons, eh? Well,
they're not to be despised. And so you're Peter, and you're Dick. Now we
start fair. Well, Peter, what are you doing at school? Plenty of arithmetic, I
hope. A boy isn't worth his salt if he isn't good at arithmetic." Arithmetic
happened to be Peter's strong point, and he was therefore enabled to give a
pretty good account of himself on this score. (Arithmetic, as I have said,
was not my strong point, but I mentally resolved to pay more attention to it
for the future.)
The Major further proceeded to make inquiries as to our progress in other
branches of education, which we answered as favourably to ourselves as
circumstances would permit. With anybody else we might have been
tempted to give perhaps a rather more flowery account of ourselves, but
with those eyes looking straight at you, there was simply nothing for it but
to stick to facts.
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However, the Major seemed very well satisfied with our account. "That's all
right, so far," he said, "but how about all the other things?" Peter and I
looked at each other with some degree of alarm, as a vista of new and
abstruse studies seemed to open before us, but our apprehensions were
speedily quieted. "The boxing, I mean, and the single-stick, and the
swimming, and the gymnastics, and the cricket." We told him that we
occasionally played at cricket, but knew nothing of the other
accomplishments he referred to. "This won't do," said the Major, "this won't
do at all. Books are very well in their way, Maria; but they're only half an
education, after all. We must alter this." And Peter and I felt an instant
conviction that it should and would be altered.
"Well, to tell the truth," said my mother (as if she ever did anything else,
dear soul), "I have always regarded those things as being rather luxuries.
They charge extra for them at the school, and with my limited income"(
"Quite right," said the Major; "I see, of course! Not to be thought of but yet
they must know all about those things, and they would be a pleasure to
them into the bargain. Look here, boys, you would like to be tough and
wiry, and to know how to use your legs and arms, and your fists, when
occasion requires?"
We both answered "yes," with great heartiness.
"Well then, it is clear that you must learn boxing, and fencing, and
gymnastics, and as the dear mother can't give you all that (those
confounded metallic reasons again), we must manage it some other way.
Suppose I teach you myself."
"You, Major!" exclaimed my mother.
"Why not, Maria? I'm pretty active still, in spite of my fifty-seven years.
My knee won't let me do very much in the gymnastic line, but I can manage
to put a couple of youngsters through their facings, I dare say; and you
know I used to be reckoned rather a dab with the gloves and the sticks. So if
these young scamps," he gave us a friendly hug,( "like to give up a
half-holiday now and then to take a lesson, I'm their man, and if I don't
make smart boxers and fencers of them, call me a Dutchman. Here, boys,
let's see what sort of muscle you've got. Hum! Site for an intended biceps.
That's about all you can call it, at present. Now feel mine."
Peter and I simultaneously took hold of his arms, one on each side, and
uttered a simultaneous "Oh" of astonishment. The Major's muscles were
like iron bands. He laughed merrily at our note of admiration.
"That's the result of training," he said. "Wholesome food, and not too much
of it" (I made up my mind on the spot, thenceforth only to have one helping
of pudding at dinner), "and plenty of exercise in the right way(that's the
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whole secret. Well, boys, what say you? When shall we begin?"
"To-morrow," said I.
"To-day," cried Peter.
"No, no. Not quite so soon as that. There are one or two things to do first. I
must look up some gloves and sticks, and so on. Let me see, to-day is
Monday, and Wednesday, I suppose, is a half-holiday? Good; then we will
make a beginning on Wednesday afternoon. You give us permission,
Maria?"
"If I didn't, I'm afraid you would take it, Major. I know your ways of old.
But I shall be only too thankful. I know the boys cannot be in better hands.
What you teach them can only be to their advantage."
"Hum! 'praise undeserved is scandal in disguise,'" quoted the Major. "You
put me on my mettle. Well, boys, we'll do our best to deserve your mother's
confidence, won't we? And now, Maria, tell me about some of our other
friends."
Finding the conversation drifting into a channel which had no interest for
us, Dick and I made our escape. We were wild with delight at the prospect
of learning boxing and fencing, which had always been the objects of a
cherished, but hitherto hopeless ambition. We were even constrained to
work off our excitement by means of an anticipatory combat with
walking-sticks in the front garden. We both suffered a little, and the
walking-sticks a good deal, from the fierceness of the contest. When the
fray was over, and we were returning our weapons to their sheaths (the
umbrella stand), Peter remarked, for about the fifteenth time, so far as the
sentiment was concerned(
"I say, though, isn't he just stunning?"
"He's the finest fellow I ever saw in my life," I rejoined.
And neither of us ever found occasion to alter our opinion.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER IV.
Athletic Exercises--The Noble Art of Self-Defence--Bound to do our
Best--Our New Gymnasium--My First Pantomime--Harlequin Der
Freischiitz and the Seven Bad Shots--In Love with Columbine--An
Unexpected Rival--Disillusion.
T
HE Major kept his word, and many a pleasant half-holiday did Peter and
I spend in the back-garden, acquiring, under his tuition, the arts of
self-defence, and gymnastics generally. We were tolerably apt pupils, both
having a great liking for active sports, particularly where there was a
sprinkling of the pugnacious element. The Major was an admirable
instructor, and trusting in his assurance of their ultimate value, we
cheerfully underwent the drudgery of drill and dumb-bell exercises,
thinking ourselves amply rewarded by being allowed a good, smart
give-and-take bout afterwards with the gloves. Even in our most
hotly-contested encounters, however, the Major made us adhere strictly to
line and rule. In respect to boxing, for instance, it is a curious but
well-ascertained fact that the uninstructed man, boxing by the light of
nature, endeavours to add force to his blows by swinging his arms round, as
if he were bowling at cricket. As, however, a straight line is considerably
shorter than a semicircle, a blow from the shoulder naturally takes a shorter
time to deliver, and by the time the round-armed hitter has got half-way
round, the straight hitter has already reached his mark, probably on the
round-armed hitter's nose. A contest, therefore, between a round and a
straight hitter is therefore a foregone conclusion for the latter.
It may readily be imagined that the Major would tolerate none but straight
hitting, and never would overlook even the smallest shortcoming in this
particular. "No, no," he would say, "that won't do. You can do better than
that. We must have that little bit over again." And I, who flattered myself
that I had punched Peter's head quite secundum artem, or Peter, who had
punched mine to his own complete satisfaction, was obliged to repeat the
process in a more scientific manner, and not always with the same result.
At first, it seemed rather tedious to have to repeat the same movement over
and over again in order to correct some apparently trifling fault; but soon
we began to appreciate, and insensibly to copy the Major's guiding
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principle, never to rest satisfied with any achievement short of one's very
best. At the outset, this higher conscientiousness on our part was a good
deal dependent on the Major's presence with us; but, little by little, his
steady persistence in doing the right for the right's sake infected our own
minds, and we made it a point of honour, even in his absence, instantly to
do over again anything which we felt might have been done better. Nor did
this effect cease with our athletic exercises. Before long we found ourselves
applying the same principle to our school work. Before we knew the Major
we had been accustomed to think that "pretty well" was "well enough," and
to act upon that assumption; and just at first, our new-born devotion to
athletics rather tended, I am afraid, to the prejudice of our book-work. But
such was not long the case. The steady habit of doing our very best for the
Major, and, later on, for ourselves in the exercising ground gradually made
us feel intolerant of "scamping" in any shape, and many and many a time I
have got up at daybreak to re-write an exercise or to re-learn a lesson, to
which I felt I had not done full justice the night before; and Peter frequently
did the same.
The effect on our progress at school was very marked, procuring us an
amount of praise from our masters Which now and then made us feel
almost uncomfortable, from a consciousness that the credit really belonged,
not to ourselves, but the Major. In truth, Peter and myself were both very
ordinary boys, with the usual boyish disposition to take life easily, and to be
satisfied, if we had been left to ourselves, with a very moderate standard of
excellence. Uncle Bumpus' moral platitudes, and exhortations to "stick to
it" failed to impress us in the smallest degree, but all boys worth their salt
are instinctive hero-worshippers. The Major was our hero, and his constant
striving after the best possible was so completely the key-note of his
character that it is small wonder if, in some degree, it became the key-note
of ours; and such measure of success as I have met in after life I attribute
mainly to this cause.
Our back garden, a gravelled space with high walls, facetiously known to
Peter and myself as the "tank," had gradually assumed the aspect of a
regular gymnasium. The various posts, swings, and bars had been erected
by Peter and myself, acting as a select corps of engineers, under the
command of the Major. It was rather hard work at first, but wherever the
Major led we were bound to follow, and we soon learnt to handle mattock
and spade like a pair of youthful navigators. My mother was a little alarmed
at seeing the tall poles and swings which began to rear their heads in view
of her hitherto peaceful back-windows; but her confidence in the Major
prevailed. My brother and I were more seriously exercised by the doubt as
to how Jemima would take it, and what would happen in the event of a
difference of opinion between her and the Major. If there had been such a
conflict, the problem of the old schoolmen as to what would happen in the
event of an irresistible force (the Major) coming in contact with an
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immovable body (Jemima) would have had a chance of being solved.
Fortunately, however, the difficulty was unintentionally settled for us by
Uncle Bumpus, who, in Jemima's hearing, stigmatised our athletic exercises
as "a pack of tomfoolery," whereupon she forthwith became their
staunchest supporter, and I really believe would even have essayed, with
very slight encouragement, to climb one of our poles herself. Thenceforth
all went smoothly. Not only the majority of our half-holidays, but a good
many of the long summer evenings were spent in our outdoor gymnasium, a
perpetual source of entertainment to the neighbouring maidservants, whose
heads were constantly to be seen protruding from the adjoining
back-windows. There was nobody to cry out, as at the tournaments of old,
"Largesse, largesse, noble knights; bright eyes look on your deeds!" nor
indeed did Peter or I much concern ourselves whether we had spectators or
not, but thwacked each other with the single-sticks, and contended who
should soar highest on the swing, solely for our own and the Major's
satisfaction. A year's steady practice in this way made our muscles nearly as
tough, on a smaller scale, as those of the Major himself, and we had further
learnt, by habit and hard training, to bear hard knocks without flinching, as
became the hardy, fear-nothing youngsters which the Major sought to make
of us. Occasionally, by way of variety, he would go with us to some large
baths in the neighbourhood, and give us a swimming-lesson. His lameness
prevented his being himself a very active swimmer, but he was an
admirable teacher, and we were soon as much at home in the water as on
land, and could not only swim, for our age, a tolerably fast stroke, but keep
it up for a very considerable length of time without fatigue.
Meanwhile, our constant intercourse with the Major was doing us, though
without our knowledge, incalculable good in a moral sense. He was by no
means a "preaching" man; indeed, he very rarely spoke of religious matters,
but we soon got to feel somehow or other that there was a very deep and
earnest vein of religion under-running his quiet, simple life. When the
Major said, as he often did, "Please God," it was not, as with many persons,
a mere phrase or expletive, but meant, in all seriousness, "if God pleases."
If he chanced in the street to pass a funeral, he always raised his hat, in the
reverent foreign fashion. His manner to women was full of the most refined
courtesy, and he would speak as politely to a beggar-woman as to a
duchess. This is perhaps a figure of speech, for duchesses were not plentiful
in our circle, but it is proverbially impossible to gild refined gold, and the
Major's habitual politeness was so perfect as to leave no margin for further
improvement.
To the Major we were indebted for our first experience in another direction,
an event of never-to-be-forgotten splendour. For a long time past we had
been worrying my mother to take us to a pantomime; and she had even
promised that she would do so some day, but again and again the
pantomime season came to an end, time went on, the clowns retired into
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private life, and we had not seen them. Meanwhile, we had heard from
more fortunate schoolfellows the most excruciatingly tantalising accounts
of the wonders of the fairyland in question, and I cannot say to what
desparate deed we might not have been driven to get there; but fortunately
Peter chanced to ask Jones Major, the most graphic of the narrators, how
big Drury Lane was, and whether (by way of pinning him to something
definite) it was three times as large our biggest schoolroom. On Jones
Major replying that it was "a hundred times as big" we made up our minds
that our young friends were simply "stuffing" us, and thenceforth our
interest fell off, and we troubled ourselves comparatively little about the
matter.
When, however, the Major arrived one evening with the intelligence that he
had. secured a box at Drury Lane, and was going to take us all to the
pantomime, our excitement revived with ten-fold intensity. Even the smell
of straw in the stuffy cab which took us the theatre seemed ambrosial to us,
and the vehicle itself a fairy chariot. Its only fault was that it did not go half
fast enough for our wishes and if we could have been permitted to jump out
and work off our superfluous energy by pushing behind, I am sure we
should have cheerfully done so. When we reached the theatre, and looking
out from our pigeon-hole saw the great expanse before us, with the rows
upon rows of boxes like our own, and the great green curtain filling the
whole of one side, we were completely "flabbergasted." The phrase is not
classical, but I know no other which so exactly expresses our state of mind.
"Astonished," "bewildered," "thunderstruck," are doubtless more elegant
phrases, but none of them give the full effect of being mentally doubled-up
and sat-upon, which I desire to convey. Peter whispered to me in
awe-struck tones, "Jones Major did tell the truth, after all!" I had been
thinking the very same thing, and an uneasy consciousness that we had
done Jones Major an injustice, and owed him an apology, crossed my mind.
Still, notwithstanding its unexpected vastness, the theatre so far did not
quite come up to the descriptions of our friends. The house was very dim,
and the gentlemen with the white neckties and the big fiddles were making
anything but musical noises in the region below. I remember thinking what
a pity it was that they didn't have the place a little better lighted, and a little
nicer music, when suddenly, as if in response to my inward thought, the
great chandelier in the middle of the house suddenly became a blaze of
sparkling diamonds, the whole theatre was filled with a flood of light, and
the orchestra started with a crash, and the big and little fiddles, the cornets,
the flutes, the saxhorns, and the drums went off hurry-scurry in a brilliant
overture. Still I wondered where the performance was to take place, for
every corner of the enormous house seemed filled. The great green curtain
had by this time been rolled up, but only, as it seemed to me, in order to
show a highly coloured picture behind it. I remembered I was just
wondering whether the actors would come out and talk in front of that
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picture, when suddenly the picture itself was mysteriously rolled up, and
revealed an awful valley, with great grim overhanging rocks on either side;
on the ground, in the centre, a circle of grinning skulls, wherein an
uncanny-looking personage (whom I somehow suspected to be
unmentionable to ears polite) kept watch and ward. The pantomime was
Harlequin Der Freischiilz and the Seven Bad Shots. I am afraid a good deal
of liberty was taken with the original story, and that the ghost of Weber, if
he had chanced to be in attendance, would have been rather puzzled to
recognise his own opera; indeed, since seeing the original, I have always
got the two a little mixed myself. I remember, however, that on the police
making a sudden descent on the Wolf's Glen, the grinning skulls became
instantaneously transformed into quartern loaves, and the magic bullets into
patent pills; that nearly everybody proved to be somebody else's long lost
uncle or aunt, and that the villain came to an untimely end by inadvertently
taking one of his own pills, but was ultimately resuscitated, not a penny the
worse, as Clown.
That gruesome Wolf's Glen! I can call up now, almost as vividly as the day
I saw it, the horrible owls with the grey blinking eyes, the bloated bats with
their great expanding wings, the slimy-looking serpents that squirmed along
the ground, the lizards, frogs, and toads that hopped or crawled round the
enchanted circle. I can recall even now the delicious horror that we felt
gazing on these terrific shapes, and our sensation of relief, and yet
disappointment, when, at the entrance of the police, they all turned into
something of a harmless, not to say ridiculous, character; the great bats into
gingham umbrellas, the owls into family portraits, the serpents into
garden-hose, and so on. Even now I can recall our excitement at the
shooting match, and the way we clapped our hands when the right man won
(rather a milk-and-water sort of young man, if I remember right) and the
machinations of the villain were brought to an untimely end. But all these
memories seem dim beside the glories of the harlequinade, the antics of the
Clown, the perpetual misfortunes of Pantaloon, the mysterious entrances
and exits of Harlequin, and last, but oh! not least, the graceful pranks of
Columbine. For the first time for many years(indeed, since my cruel
experience with Carrie Owen(I felt that I loved again. Come what might,
that fairy-like being in the pink tarlatan would henceforth reign sole queen
of my affections. I conceived an instant and violent hatred of Harlequin.
The way my charmer(chiefly on one leg(followed him about stung me to
the verge of frenzy. I had a sort of dim idea, partly suggested, I fancy, by
her conduct, and partly by her costume, that she wasn't quite what she
should be, and I remember thinking that my mother or Jemima wouldn't go
on like that. But I loved her still the same. I was disgusted to find on
reaching home, and exchanging notes with Peter, that he also had
developed a passion for the same object; and he added insult to injury by
reminding me of my extreme youth, and making a prior claim, so to speak,
on the ground of his trumpery year and a-half of seniority. This caused a
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coolness between us for some days. I had some thoughts of challenging him
to mortal combat in the back garden, with the understanding that the lady
was to be the prize of the survivor. What would have come of it I cannot
say. Perhaps I should not have lived to write this simple story; but we
fortunately discovered, from a casual remark of the Major to my mother,
that the object of our joint adoration was a married lady with several
children, some of them considerably older than myself. At the outset I
resented the assertion as a gross calumny, and was more than half inclined
to challenge the Major instead of Peter, and wipe out the falsehood with his
blood, but knowing his habitual truthfulness I restrained myself, and
subsequent inquiries satisfied me that the story was correct. The shock was
severe, but it was salutary. After a few days my mind recovered its tone,
and reverted to its former misogynist attitude. By tacit consent Peter and I
avoided the subject as one too painful for discussion, and in a short time our
little unpleasantness was completely forgotten.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER V.
My First Visit to a Conjuring Entertainment--My
Enthusiasm--Extraordinary Indifference of Peter--Early Studies in
Prestidigitation--The Tribulations of a Neophyte.
A
LITTLE later I was indebted to the Major for another experience,
without which I should probably never have acquired the nickname which
gives the title to this book, and this eventful history would never have been
written. A conjurer was exhibiting his marvels at a hall in our
neighbourhood, and the Major goodnaturedly asked my mother's
permission to take Peter and myself to see them. Peter, to my surprise, took
the performance as coolly as if it had been a common concert or
magic-lantern entertainment, but I was spell-bound. The performer was a
stoutish little man in a dress coat rather too tight for him, and rattled off his
"patter" in a thin, squeaky voice, as if he was trying to combine
ventriloquism with conjuring. I don't think he was a man of any special
repute in his profession, but his performance seemed to me miraculous. I
have seen so much of the same kind of thing since that I cannot profess to
recall the precise details of his achievements, but the way in which he made
torn-up cards reappear whole as at first in various parts of the room,
collected money from the air, cooked a pudding in a hat, and then produced
therefrom a host of heterogeneous articles, went far to justify, in my mind,
the belief that he practised unlawful arts. If anybody in the audience had got
up and proposed that he should be burnt as a wizard I should have been
deeply sorry, but not in the least surprised. Fortunately, no such
contratemps occurred. The Major was delighted at my enthusiasm, and
related to me very much more wonderful things which he had seen done by
the native conjurers in India. Subsequent experience has satisfied me that
even with the most truth-telling persons, not initiated into the secrets of the
craft, the description of a conjuring trick must be accepted with a very
liberal discount, but I received the whole with the most implicit faith, and
from that moment my most cherished ambition was to be a conjurer. On our
way home an anxious fear struck me. I remembered the Columbine
incident, and dreaded lest Peter should have been smitten with a similar
yearning, and should again put forward his right of primogeniture. I could
hardly expect that my mother would tolerate two conjurers in one family.
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The next morning, I cautiously led up to the subject.
"Peter," I said, "I wonder how long it takes to learn to be a conjurer."
"Oh, a year or two, I suppose," said Peter, airily. "I expect it's easy enough
when you once know how the things are done. It's all a lot of bunkum."
"Bunkum or not," I replied, feeling my way, "I expect you'd be jolly glad to
be able to do it yourself. Come now."
"I shouldn't mind, just for curiosity, knowing a few of the old chap's tricks.
But as for doing them myself, I wouldn't be bothered with 'em."
"Come, I say; you'd like to be able to make a pudding in a hat. Wouldn't
you now?"
"Yes," said Peter, thoughtfully, "I shouldn't mind that. But I'd a jolly sight
rather have the pudding right off, without the bother of pretending to make
it. Of course he only sticks it into the hat when you're not looking."
"But how can he?"
"How? Ah, that's his secret. I expect he goes on jabbering till you're all
looking at something else, and then in it goes(bang!"
"But where does he get it from?"
"I'm sure I don't know, and what's more, I don't care. I'd a jolly sight sooner
go to a good magic-lantern or Christmas-tree entertainment. There's some
sense in that. But conjuring is jolly humbug. The chap says, 'You see me
put a thing here, and now it's gone away, and it's here.' Well, what if it is? I
don't care; I'd just as soon it had stopped in the other place."
"But all the tricks are not like that," I said. "Look at that one where he tore
up the lady's pocket-handkerchief, and brought it back again as good as
ever."
"I'm sure I didn't mind, as long as it wasn't my handkerchief he tore up,"
rejoined Peter, "I'd just as soon it had stopped in pieces. And if he was
going to mend it again, I don't see what was the good of tearing it up at all.
Why couldn't he leave it alone?"
Not being prepared to argue the question from this point of view, I changed
the subject, much relieved to find that at any rate I had nothing to fear from
Peter as a rival in this direction.
I could not understand Peter's indifference at that time, and almost thought
he was "selling me," but subsequent observation satisfied me of his good
faith. Incredible as it must naturally appear to every well regulated mind,
there are persons in whom, from some deficiency of organisation, even the
most perfect of tricks excites no enthusiasm. As the finest concerto is caviar
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to the man who has no musical ear, and the most soul-tickling of jokes is
inanity to the man who does not possess the sense of humour, so conjuring
seems to demand a special faculty, a bump of philo-prestidigitation, so to
speak, for its complete enjoyment. Given the magic "bump" (a gentle
hillock, compounded probably of "wonder" and "ideality") and a clever
magical entertainment is a season of delight, both to the actor and the
spectators. As Butler tells us:
"The pleasure is as great
Of being cheated as to cheat;"
or to borrow a quotation from a less known writer: "For those who like that
sort of thing, it's just the kind of thing they like." This was my case. Peter
was an example of the opposite temperament, and in so far as it removed a
possible rival from my path, I regarded his indifference as a providential
circumstance.
Encouraged by the fact that I had the field all to myself, I began steadily to
practise the arts of the conjuror, so far as I could discover them. Magical
literature was rare in my school-days, but I managed to get get hold of a
"Boy's Own Conjuring Book" and one or two other treatises professing to
deal with the subject. I cannot say that they were satisfactory works. The
authors either didn't know, or wouldn't tell, any of the more important
secrets of the craft. In those days I believed the latter, but greater
knowledge of the world inclines me at present to believe that the former
was the true interpretation. However, I greedily devoured such information
as I could extract from them. Though they were not very clear as to what
you had to do they all agreed that you must steadily practise doing it; and
accordingly I did practise morning, noon, and night, considerably to the
detriment, I am afraid, of my graver studies. In particular, I never lost an
opportunity of practising what is called "palming," i.e., holding a coin or
other article in the palm of the open or half-open hand without attracting
observation. Even during school-time I was rarely without a penny, a cork,
or an india-rubber ball, concealed in the palm of my hand. Now and then
the article dropped on the floor, and this led to unpleasantness; indeed,
sometimes even to personal violence, and to my finding myself unable to
hold anything at all in the palm of my hand with comfort for a considerable
period. On one occasion, in taking out my pocket-handkerchief, I had the
misfortune to pull out with it a whole pack of well-worn playing cards, and
to scatter them broadcast over the floor of the schoolroom. I would not have
believed, if I had not seen it with my own eyes, that one poor pack of cards
could have made such a tremendous display. That pack, judging from
appearance, must have had at least a hundred and fifty cards in it. I have
often wished I could do the same thing since. I had not the opportunity of
verifying this remarkable increase of the number, for the cards were
forthwith confiscated, and I draw a veil over the remainder of the incident,
which was of too painful a character to be reproduced in print.
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On another occasion I had taken a raw egg to school with me, in order to
practise the palming of oval objects, and Bobus Minor, who was always on
the look-out for a practical joke, picked my pocket of it when my attention
was otherwise occupied, and when I next stood up slipped it quietly on the
seat behind me. The effect, when I resumed my seat, can be better imagined
than described. "Hallo! What was that?" said the master in charge, as he
heard the crash-cum-squash of the shell and its contents. Nobody answered;
we all looked as grave as judges(I, in particular, as solemn as the Lord
Chancellor himself (and the incident passed over without further notice, but
oh! the mental agony of that next half-hour! and oh! my mined pantaloons!
"Don't get eggcited, my dear fellow," whispered the hateful Bobus in my
ear.
I could have killed him with pleasure, but I was compelled for my own sake
to preserve a calm exterior (I had nearly written eggsterior, but the subject
is too painful to make a jest of). The lesson came to an end at last, and, it
being fortunately the last of the day, I was enabled to push the form
temporarily out of sight under a desk, and with the aid of a friendly
comrade, who masked my retreat with a slate held in my rear, I retired to
the lavatory to repair damages. In the first flush of my wrath I vowed the
.deadliest vengeance against Bobus Minor, but he had made the best of his
way home, and between that and the next morning's school I had come to
appreciate the humorous aspect of the matter, and was more mercifully
inclined towards him. I therefore contented myself with slapping his head
and kicking him slightly, just to teach him better manners, and let him go. I
wish I myself could have escaped as easily, but for some weeks afterwards
ribald youths would come up and ask me, with apparent seriousness, what
was the price of eggs; when I intended to "sit" next; and similar impertinent
questions.
Even such untoward experiences as these, however, failed to check my
prestidigitatorial ardour. Still I practised, and in spite of my many
difficulties found myself beginning to attain, in an amateur sort of way, a
fair amount of dexterity in sundry minor tricks, simple enough to the
initiated, but marvellous in the eyes of my less instructed schoolfellows,
who forthwith christened me "Conjurer Dick," and "Conjurer Dick" I
thenceforth remained to the end of my school life.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER VI.
Dumpton College--A Rash Promise--The Major's Parting Advice--Showing
my Colours--A Struggle for Religious Liberty--An Unexpected
Victory--Wanted by the Vice-Principal--All Well that Ends Well--The Last
of Gunter.
I
WAS midway between fourteen and fifteen, when I suddenly developed a
hitherto unsuspected talent for headaches. Our doctor gave me nearly all the
medicines in the pharmacopoeia ([ don't know how many there are, but I am
satisfied that I must have taken most of them) without effecting any
improvement, and finally said that I was growing too fast, and that what I
really required was change of air, preferably at the seaside. I quite agreed
with him, and only regretted that he hadn't mentioned it earlier. A
committee of ways and means was held by my mother and the Major, and it
was finally decided that I should be sent to Dumpton College, a
boarding-school near Margate. Uncle Bumpus condemned the scheme as
mollycoddling. Nobody ever sent him to Margate when he was a boy, he
observed, and look at Him! However, his appearance did not carry that
conviction he seemed to anticipate; and he finally "washed his hands" of the
matter. Jemima remarked that she wished he would "wash his head, and
wash it off." This was no doubt intended merely in a Pickwickian sense; but
her further observation, that the old skinflint would rather do anything with
his hands than put them in his pockets was really a good deal to the
purpose, my mother having, as I afterwards discovered, made an attempt to
get him to defray Some part of the extra expense of sending me from home.
I need hardly say the attempt was a failure, and of itself sufficiently
explained his disapproval of the project. However, the difficulty was met
somehow or other, the Major, I strongly suspect, lending the helping hand
which Uncle Bumpus refused to extend. In due course my outfit was got
ready and my belongings packed up (not forgetting my collection of
conjuring apparatus, carefully wrapped in a small pocket-hankerdchief),
and I was ready to depart.
The Major volunteered to see me off at Charing Cross, mother, who had a
vague impression that fatal accidents were nearly as frequent as trains,
having wept so freely as to render her, quite unfit to be seen in public. She
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was tearfully impressing on me her last wishes in the contingency of her
never seeing me again, not realising apparently that as I was the person to
be smashed I should have but little opportunity to attend to them, when the
Major conceived a happy thought. With an almost imperceptible wink at
Peter and myself, he said, "Cheer up, Maria, I'll make it all right. I'll take an
insurance ticket for him. It's only three-pence, and then he can't come to any
harm." "Of course, how foolish of me not to think of it!" said my mother,
greatly relieved. "You will, Major; won't you? and then my mind will be at
rest." My mother, good simple soul, fancied that in some mysterious way
(as I have known old ladies tap the barometer to make the mercury go up,
and so insure fine weather) the fact of being insured prevented an accident
happening. The major's pious fraud, therefore (for which he would never
have forgiven himself if an accident had really happened to me), gave her
unspeakable comfort, and she bade me farewell without any further
breakdown. Peter was not in the least affected, but said good-bye to me
with rather envious eyes, for he was shortly about to leave school and be
promoted to a high stool in a square wooden cupboard, and the dignity of
"Cash" in Uncle Bumpus' drapery establishment. I knew he would have
much preferred Margate, and I felt for him sincerely. "Good-bye Peter old
boy," I said; "I'll send you some stunning fish, when I catch 'em." The
saving clause had more significance than I imagined. I merely put it in to
provide for the possible delay of a day or two, fondly imagining that where
there was such a lot of water as there must naturally be at Margate, there
must also be lots of fish, and that it would merely be a question of dropping
in a hook and something tasty (I didn't quite know what), at the end of a
string, to catch as many as I might desire. A very few days' experience,
however, proved to me that, in the first place, angling is not regarded as
part of the regular curriculum of a Margate boarding-school; and secondly,
that even when I did get the chance of an afternoon's fishing, the fish were
infinitely more wide-awake than I was. I tried them with every conceivable
kind of bait, from shrimps and periwinkles even to such strange meats as
hairy gooseberries and peppermint lozenges, but all in vain. They
obstinately declined to be tempted from their native element by any
inducements I could hold out to them. Herein, however, I am anticipating. I
can only say that my promise to Peter was made in all good faith, and that I
should certainly have kept it, if I could. It is a relief to me to remember that
he did not appear to attach any very great importance to it, but simply said,
"Good-bye, old fellow, and luck go with you!" The Major and I got into the
hansom at the door, my box was hoisted on the roof, and we were off(my
mother waving a very wet pocket-handkerchief to us till we were out of
sight. Jemima stood on the area-steps, and waved her adieux with a rather
dirty apron. Now that the start was fairly made, I felt an uncomfortable
lump in my throat, and a strong desire to get at one corner of my
pocket-handkerchief. However, I sternly repressed the feeling as a discredit
to my manliness, and the cab rolled on.
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For some minutes we rode on in silence. I myself was not inclined for
conversation. The Major cleared his throat once or twice, as if he was about
to speak, but changed his mind and said nothing, and I became aware, by a
sort of instinct, that he wanted to say something to me, but didn't quite
know how to begin. Nervousness is catching, and I found myself
anticipating something unpleasant, and hoping he wouldn't say it. However,
the Major wasn't the man to shirk a duty, and having made up his mind that
he ought to give me a parting word of advice, he began at last.
"Well, Dick, my boy, you're making your first plunge into the big world.
It's a bit of a wrench, leaving home for the first time, and harder sometimes
to those who stay behind, than to those who go. You have a very loving
mother, Dick, and I hope you'll do her credit."
"I'll try my best, Major."
"Well said, lad; that's a good way of putting it. But what's more to the
purpose still, don't forget Who helps the trying. We're poor sticks, the best
of us. We want a bigger and better strength than our own, if we are to do
any good. Remember that, Dick."
"I will, Major."
"And don't be ashamed to ask for the help, lad, and never be ashamed,
either, to let others know that you do ask for it, trust in it. Show your
colours, like a good soldier. We despise a fellow who pretends to be better
than he is, but that won't be your temptation, Dick. A boy at school is much
more often tempted to pretend to be worse than he is, and if he gives way to
it, he's as big a humbug as the other fellow, and a coward in the bargain.
You won't be a coward, will you, old boy?"
"Not if I can help it, Major."
"You can't help it, boy, if you try to fight it out alone. But you go to the
right quarter for help, you may defy the devil all his works. I'm no hand at a
sermon, but just remember three things :(Tell the truth, live a pure, chaste
life, and never be a coward. And when you're in danger of failing, ask God
to help you." He raised his hat in reverent salute. "Stick to that, my lad, and
you'll do. And now my sermon's over, Dick, and here's something to
remember it by."
The something was a bright sovereign, the first I had ever possessed in the
whole course of my life. Something in the manner of the gift, more than the
gift itself, found a very tender place in my heart(I gripped the Major's hand
very hard, and he returned the pressure heartily. A big tear fell on my
hand(I thought it was my own, but I chanced to look up, and found it might
just as well have been the Major's, for the fellow to it was rolling down his
nose.
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Young lads and lasses, who have been "lectured," as you call it, by loving
friends and relatives, you don't know how hard such lectures are to give
sometimes. I don't mean the cold formal jobation, such as Uncle Bumpus,
for instance, might have given, but such a little quiet talking-to as the dear
old Major had given me, unveiling a little bit of the lecturer's own heart. A
profound observer has said that no man ever considers any one capable of a
profound and romantic sentiment(except himself. I am very sure that the
best impulses of a man's character, his truest reverences, his loftiest hopes,
his highest aspirations, his bitterest self-condemnations, are generally those
which he wraps closest in his own heart, even from his nearest and dearest.
And when the veil is lifted, it comes to us like a revelation. I had never
doubted that the Major was a good man. No one who knew him could do
so, but it never struck me that he required any assistance from prayers. I
thought, so far as I thought about the matter at all, that his sterling
character, his dauntless courage and unswerving integrity came somehow
by nature, and were so firmly established as to need no higher help. In those
few words he had proved the falseness of my fancy picture, and shown me
the true guiding principle of his simple, noble life. And the revelation did
me an infinity of good. I had hitherto regarded the Major as some raw
conscript might have regarded the great Napoleon; as a hero demigod, to be
worshipped at a distance, but scarcely to be imitated without presumption.
Now my good old friend had shown me the secret of his strength, and I
determined that, God helping, I would try to be, in some small degree, like
him.
My good resolve was destined to be very speedily put to test. There was no
regular work the first day, which was devoted mainly to assigning each
pupil his position in school, and getting things straight for the coming
quarter. At eight o'clock, P.M., a bell rang, and we flocked into the hall,
where a light meal of bread-and-cheese and cold water was served out. At
half-past eight the bell again rang for prayers, which were read by the Head
Master, Dr. Grimsby, after the formal school fashion, and not improved in
point of impressiveness by the fact that, from his tongue being too large for
his mouth, or some similar cause, he spoke with a portentous lisp, every s
sounded as a th. At a quarter to nine we were dismissed to respective
dormitories, and by nine we were expected to be bed, and the gas turned
out. I was assigned to a small dormitory containing six boys only, the head
of the room being a big fellow named Gunter, whom I instinctively put
down, as soon as I him, as a bully. The other occupants of the room
exchanged good deal of rough chaff, interspersed with occasional bad
language, the senior, Gunter, being the chief offender. I had hitherto been
fortunate in belonging to a school where bad language was extremely rare,
and (as with all boys in whom the healthy natural instincts have not been
corrupted) I never heard it without a hearty and profound disgust. I did not
feel called upon to make any test against it here, but I made up my mind,
with perhaps a little too much of conscious virtue, that nothing should ever
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induce me to talk like that.
I was half undressed, when it suddenly struck me that neither I, nor any of
the others, had said our prayers. Perhaps it was considered that taking part
in the general school prayers precluded the necessity of any private
devotions. I could not, however, quite feel that this was so, at any rate, in
my own case. The school prayers were read from a book, and I dare say
were excellent in their way, but they had about as much reference to my
individual needs as the Collect for Rain, or the prayer for the High Court of
Parliament. I felt that prayers of that sort wouldn't give me much help
towards keeping straight in my school life, and I made up my mind that as
soon as I was fairly in bed, I would silently offer up a more practical
petition upon my own account. But a second thought suggested to me that
this would be rather an underhand way of doing things, and scarcely
following the Majors counsel to "show my colours." If it was a duty to say
my prayers, it was equally a duty not to be ashamed of doing it. Come what
might, I resolved I wouldn't hide my colours.
I must own it was hard work to screw my courage to the sticking point. I
put it to myself whether I couldn't let things go for just that one evening,
and begin the next night, when I shouldn't be quite such a stranger. But I
felt it wouldn't do. If I didn't do the right thing now, I knew instinctively
that I should never do it at all. It was like standing on the edge of a
swimming-bath on a cold day, and hesitating to take the plunge. The longer
I waited, the harder it would get, and so, without allowing my resolution
any time to cool, I turned to my bedside, and going down on my knees, I
began my usual evening prayer, though with rather a discursive mind, and
thinking, I am afraid, quite as much of the possible effect on my
companions as of my own occupation. There was a momentary check,
occasioned, I fancy, by astonishment, in Gunter's flow of profanity, and
then he remarked, in a sneering tone:(
"Hullo, what's this little game? What's the new chap boring the bed with his
nose for?" And then, as if he had made a discovery, "Dash my buttons, if he
isn't saying his prayers!"
"What an unreasonable chap he must be!" said Bullock, second in seniority.
"After all those nice prayers old Grimsby says every evening, to want more;
I call that downright greedy."
"Couldn't you say 'em out loud, old fellow?" said Boodle, a third boy.
"We'll make you chaplain to the room, and you shall do the goody-goody
for the lot of us."
"I should like to know what he's asking for," rejoined Bullock; "if it's all for
himself I call it taking a mean advantage of the rest of us."
"Look here, youngster," said Gunter, giving my hair a tug, "it's moved and
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seconded, and carried unanimously, that if you want to say any of your
prayers here, you must say 'em aloud, and then we'll see whether we can
conscientiously say 'Amen' to them. D'ye hear?"
The last words were accompanied by a pretty severe kick, and at the same
time a slipper from another quarter came in contact with my head. This was
rather too much for my endurance. I suspended my devotions, and jumped
up and faced my tormentors.
"Look here, I'm not interfering with you, and I don't see any reason why
you should interfere with me."
"Oh! you don't, don't you, young Praise-God-Barebones. And if we don't
quite see it in that light, what does your reverence propose to do? Tell the
Doctor, or write home to your ma, I suppose!"
The sneering tone in which the last words were spoken made me forget
discretion. "No," I retorted, "I never tell tales. I leave that sort of thing to
cowards and bullies, like you."
The retort was not very neat, but it was appreciated.
"Take that, you young devil, for cheeking your betters," replied Gunter,
giving me a sounding slap in the face. "And there's plenty more where that
came from."
"Take that to put to it then," I said, hitting out in return, and striking the
bully on the mouth.
"What, you dare strike me, you venomous little reptile! You had better say
your prayers again, my young friend, for what you are going to receive,
which is the biggest thrashing you ever had in your life."
I squared up, determined to make the best fight I could. I never doubted that
I must ultimately be licked, for my antagonist was a couple of years older,
and far taller and heavier than myself, but I was determined that at any rate
he should not have an easy victory. In the first round or two I fought on the
defensive; but I found, to my great surprise, that, thanks to the Major's
instructions and my frequent sparring practice with Peter, the advantage
was in reality on my side, both in skill and endurance. My antagonist had
no notion of straight hitting, but charged at me with his head down, trying
to reach me by semicircular sweeps, after the "natural man" school of
boxing, which in our own case the Major had taken so much pains to
eradicate. I found that I had only to keep my guard well up to protect my
head with perfect ease, while Gunter left his headpiece perfectly exposed,
as if actually inviting me to hit it. I found, too, that he was no match for me
in point of training. After a couple of rounds he began to puff and blow,
while my dumb-bell and other exercises had left me, in sporting phrase, "as
fit as a fiddle." I must admit that my first thought was self-congratulation at
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the prospect of giving the bully the thrashing he had so kindly promised me.
But as I gradually became more and more confident, a feeling came over
me that it would be a poor sort of victory, after all. Accordingly I took the
opportunity of a momentary pause in the contest, to drop my hands, and
say,
"Look here, Gunter, we may as well stash it. I don't mean to be cocky, but I
know more about boxing than you do, and I tell you fairly I can lick you.
Come now, just let me alone, and I'll let you alone." Gunter, however, was
far too angry to hear reason.
"You impudent little beast!" he exclaimed, and making a sudden dash
forward struck me in the face unawares. This was too much. At it we went
again, hammer-and-tongs, Gunter hitting in his semicircular fashion, and
more wildly than ever, scarcely guarding his head or chest at all. After his
cowardly blow I no longer felt inclined to spare him, and he was getting
severely punished, while I had scarcely a bruise. At last I caught him with a
straight left-hander full on the chin. The blow was delivered with right good
will, and it knocked him on to a bed which chanced to be behind him, and
over the other side. He picked himself up again, looking very crestfallen,
and showed no inclination to resume the contest. "Do you intend to leave
me alone for the future?" I asked. He made no answer, save a savage grunt,
and sitting down on his bed took a wash-hand basin, and began to bathe his
face, which was a good deal damaged by the encounter. His fall had made a
tremendous noise, and I was hardly surprised to see the door open, and the
Vice-Principal, Mr. Macarty, walk in.
"What was that dreadful noise?" he said. "Hallo! what's this? Gunter with a
black eye and his nose bleeding! Who has done this?" "I did, Sir," I said,
"but he struck me first." "What was the quarrel about?" said Mr. Macarty,
looking from one to another. Gunter and myself were both silent. "I insist
on knowing. What is the meaning of it? Terry, you are a truthful boy. Tell
me at once, what it all means." The boy appealed to, a pleasant-looking
fellow of about my own age, who had taken no part in my persecution, said,
"It was Gunter's fault, Sir. He would not let Hazard say his prayers; and
they had a fight, and Gunter got the worst of it." "So it seems! though one
can hardly believe it. A struggle for religious liberty, was it?" (I fancied I
saw a twinkle in his eye.) "Gunter, this is not the first time I have had to
complain of your bullying propensities. You ought to have been ashamed to
strike a boy so much younger and smaller than yourself, and I am sincerely
glad to see that, to all appearance, you have had a sound thrashing. I shall
enquire into the matter further in the morning. Now you will all please get
into bed without delay, and do not let another word be spoken till getting-up
bell."
So saying, he departed.
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The next morning, the bell rang at half-past six. We had twenty-five
minutes to dress in, being expected to be in our places downstairs at five
minutes to seven. There was therefore little time for conversation, and
Gunter and his friends maintained, so far as I was concerned, a sulky
silence. Terry, and another boy named Blake were friendly enough, and I
made up my mind I should like them. When I knelt down at my bedside
both of them did likewise. There were a good many sneering glances from
the Gunter faction, but no open opposition. After morning school, in which
I acquitted myself fairly well, I was told by a monitor that I was to go to
Mr. Macarty's private room. I did so with some trepidation. A good-looking
muscular gentleman was with him, whom I afterwards found to be Mr.
Vernon, the mathematical master, a Cambridge B.A., and very great at all
athletic exercises. They both looked at me, by no means severely, as I
entered, and I fancied somehow that they had been speaking of me as I
came in.
"This is the champion of freedom of conscience, is it?" said Mr. Vernon.
"He's a very light weight, to have given a big fellow like Gunter such a
thrashing. Where did you learn to use your fists to such good purpose,
young gentleman?"
"From an old friend of my father's, Sir, called Major Manly. He has taught
us boxing and singlestick on half-holidays, and I have practised a good deal
with my brother."
"Well, a knowledge of the art of self-defence is not to be despised," said
Mr. Macarty, "so long as it is made a good use of. I have enquired into last
night's disturbance, and don't find that you were much to blame, though
prayers and pugilism are rather a peculiar combination."
"Church militant," suggested Mr. Vernon.
Mr. Macarty shook his head at him, with a queer expression, half smile,
half frown. "I respect your courage, Hazard, moral as well as physical, and I
will take care that in future you have full liberty for your private devotions,
but you must please avoid all occasion of pugilistic encounters. And now
you may be off to the playground."
"Hi, stop a bit," said Mr. Vernon. "You play cricket, I suppose, youngster?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Can you bowl?"
"Yes, Sir, a little."
"Come to me in the cricket-field after afternoon school, then, and we'll see
what you can do."
Much relieved to get off so easily, I ran off to the playground, where I was
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intercepted by Terry. "Hullo, Hazard, I was just looking for you. I say, old
fellow, you are a trump."
"What do you mean?" I said.
"I mean for what you did last night. There isn't another fellow in the school
would have dared to stand up to that brute Gunter as you did. I am so glad
you thrashed him!"
"Much obliged, but what good does it do you?"
"More than you think. Didn't you see that after you had licked him, I knelt
down and said my prayers too? Well, I haven't dared do that since I have
slept in that room. In all the other rooms it's a matter of course, but Gunter
and those two other fellows, Bullock and Boodle, never would have it in
our room. Of course I said 'em in bed, but that don't seem the same thing.
However, it'll be all right for the future. Has Macarty spoken to you?"
"Yes, I have just come from him, but he didn't say very much to me.
Nothing to mind, anyhow; he's a jolly sort of fellow, isn't he?"
"A regular trump. But he can be pretty severe, too. I wouldn't be in Gunter's
shoes, for something. He had us all in, one by one, to get at the truth of the
matter, and last of all Gunter was sent for. He was in there for twenty
minutes, and when he came out he looked awful. He wasn't very ornamental
before, with his black eye and his cut lip, but he looked worse still after
Macarty had been talking to him. I rather suspect he's had a hint to take his
name off the books."
"I hope not," I said; "I should be awfully sorry if any fellow got into trouble
on my account."
"You needn't distress yourself, my dear fellow, it isn't on your account,
except that your knocking him over the bed brought up Macarty. Gunter's
not only a bully, but a regular bad lot, and the school will be well rid of
him. There isn't a fellow in the school, except just his two or three pals, that
isn't jolly glad you licked him. But I say, Hazard, what a muscle you must
have! I thought Gunter would have knocked you into smithereens, but it
seemed as if he couldn't hit you at all. How on earth did you manage it?"
"No particular credit to me," I said. "I have learnt boxing, how to hit, and
guard, and all that, though I never struck anybody in anger till last night. It
makes a lot of difference, even the little I know about it."
At this point a number of the other boys came up, and one and all began to
congratulate me on my victory over the detested Gunter. They insisted on
feeling my biceps till I felt as sore as a prize beast at a cattle show.
The general belief at the outset was that I had overcome Gunter by dint of
superhuman muscular strength, but learning from Terry that I knew
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something of boxing, my admirers forthwith changed their minds and
credited me with the possession of supernatural skill. If I had acceded to
one half the requests made to me for instruction in the "noble art," I might
have set up a pugilistic academy on the spot, I don't know that I am
particularly modest, but their admiration at last became seriously
embarrassing, and I was quite thankful when the bell rang for afternoon
school.
As soon as I could get away after afternoon school, I went into the
cricket-field behind the house, where I found Mr. Vernon and two or three
of the elder boys practising. "Hallo, young Ironsides," was his greeting,
"here you are, are you? We'll see presently what you can do with a bat. Can
you keep wicket?"
"After a fashion, Sir."
"Very good. Smithers, you move to long-stop. Now then, youngster, let's
see whether you can keep wicket to my bowling."
This was rather a trying post, and as I afterwards found, was rather shirked
by most of the boys, Mr. Vernon being a very fast bowler. It so happened,
however, that I had had a good deal of practice in wicket-keeping, and the
indifference to hard knocks which I had acquired under the Major stood me
in good stead, the position of wicket-keeper to a fast bowler being one in
which hard knocks are extremely plentiful. It was hot work, but I was lucky
enough to acquit myself both in this, and in a subsequent trial of batting, to
Mr. Vernon's satisfaction, and I was forthwith drafted into the second
eleven, with a hint that if my future play continued equal to sample, I
should stand a good chance of being shortly transferred into the first. I was
greatly delighted with my success, and felt two inches taller as I left the
cricket-field. The proverbial "dog with two tails" could hardly have been
prouder, and Blake and Terry, who had witnessed the trial, seemed nearly
as pleased as myself. "You're all right now," said the former; "if Vernon
once takes a fancy to a fellow he always sticks to him. His favourites are
generally of the right sort, though, I'll say that for him."
The rest of the day passed without any event worth recording. When
bed-time came, there was no repetition of the previous night's molestation,
and Gunter and his friends gave me a very wide berth from that time
forward. My acquaintance with the former was but brief, for he left at the
end of the current quarter, and was not again heard of. It was reported by
Dibley Secundus, a rather imaginative boy, that he had gone to be a Pirate,
but this was never confirmed, and we afterwards discovered that he had
been articled to a solicitor. I regret to say that Dibley Secundus, on being
reproached with his mis-statement, showed no contrition whatever, but said
it was very much the same thing.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
|
CHAPTER VII.
My First Appearance as a Conjurer-Preliminary Preparations-My
Programme-A New Remedy for Nervousness-Grandfather's Clock-A
Breakdown in the Musical Department-A Flying Egg-The Wanderings of a
Halfpenny-Curious Effects of the Human Breath-The Mysterious Die-The
Magic Hornpipe.
I
HAD not been very long at Dumpton College before it became known
among the boys that I could "do tricks," as they called it, and my talents in
that line were in frequent requisition, sometimes to an inconvenient extent.
Hardly a day passed without somebody starting the cry, "I say, Hazard,
show us a trick, old fellow." Having seen one trick, they generally wanted
another, and another. Now, to give a conjuring trick a fair chance of
success, the first desideratum is that the spectators shall not know what is
coming, for if they do, they know exactly what to look for, and have a much
greater chance of detecting the trick. For this reason no prudent conjurer
ever repeats a trick in exactly the same shape to the same audience, if he
can possibly help it. Not having the faculty of unlimited invention, I soon
found that my repertoire was getting rather stale, and that if I did not
economize my performances, my secrets would very soon be public
property. Accordingly, I decided to enlarge my programme, and meanwhile
excused myself whenever I could, on the plea that I should have some new
tricks shortly, but that they must wait till I had practised them.
This gave rise to a rumour that I was reserving my energies for some grand
occasion, when I was going to show all my tricks at once, with new marvels
hitherto undreamt of. I found at last that my expected "show" had been so
talked about, that I should be compelled to make it a reality. The final
stroke was put by Mr. Vernon, who remarked to me one day towards the
close of the half-year, "Well, Hazard, when are we to have this grand
magical performance of yours? I hear you are quite a prestidigitateur. When
you are ready, you can have the dining-hall any evening you like, and if
there is anything in reason you want for your tricks, let me know, and I'll
get it for you." "You are very kind, Sir," I said; "some of the boys have
been bothering me to give them a performance one evening, and I have half
promised that I would, but I haven't thought seriously about it." "You had
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better think seriously about it, then," he rejoined. "I should think very
seriously about it myself, if I had to do such a thing. However, that's your
look out."
Finding that I really was expected to give a performance, I determined to
make it as good as I could. I fixed the date as far off as possible, so as to
give myself the longest available time for preparation; and thenceforward
found myself thinking about the matter with a seriousness which might
have satisfied even Mr. Vernon. I never heard of anybody's hair turning
grey at the age of fifteen, but I quite wonder that mine didn't. However, it
kept its colour, and the eventful evening came at last, all too soon for my
comfort. Terry had undertaken to act as my assistant, and Goles, a boy who
played the German concertina, had offered to supply the incidental music.
Dobson, a penman of surpassing skill and flourish, popularly supposed to
be very nearly the equal of the writing-master himself, undertook to copy
out the programme for me in his best style. I had plenty of other volunteers,
most of them coming to me privately and asking me whether I didn't want a
"confederate," as if I would have condescended to the dishonest expedient
of collusion with a spectator. I declined such offers with the contempt they
deserved, but I fear my refusal did not always carry conviction, more than
one of the rejected having the audacity to hint that I only declined their
assistance because I had already made a similar arrangement with
somebody else. Mr. Gilbert touchingly remarks,
"It's human nature, p'raps; if so,
O, isn't human nature low!"
Dobson's programme was really a work of art. It might perhaps have been
as well if he had not introduced quite so many swans; the swan tending to
have rather a goosey effect when too often repeated; but the swooping
hawks, one at each corner, were very effective, and the crossed quills at the
foot were a master-piece in their way. In reference, I presume to the nature
of the performance, little devils, skulls and cross-bones and other uncanny
emblems were introduced at intervals with highly picturesque effect, my
only fear being that my performance would not come up (by a good way) to
the diabolical standard suggested. The text ran as follows :-
DUMPTON COLLEGE.
On Thursday, December 18, 18-,
At Eight o'clock precisely,
Will take place, in the Large Hall, an entertainment of
MAGIC AND MYSTERY,
By the Wizard of Nowhere in Particular!!
Comprising the following startling illusions :-
PART I.
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THE TRAVELLING EGG.
THE ENCHANTED HANDKERCHIEF,
THE MYSTERIOUS DIE.
THE MAGIC HORNPIPE.
--
An Interval of Ten Minutes.
PART II.
THE PHOENIX CARD.
THE INVISIBLE TRAVELLER.
THE INEXHAUSTIBLE BOTTLE.
Dobson had added on his own responsibility
MUSIC BY THE BAND,
which seemed to me rather a florid expression for the performance of one
concertina. However, there was no help for it now. The programme was
hung up in a conspicuous position. The few items of apparatus to be used in
my first part were arranged on a small table in the centre of the platform,
which was made by combining the stands of the three principal masters'
desks; and I retired, with Terry, behind my screen close by; to wait, with
such equanimity as I might, the arrival of the audience.
Blake and another boy had undertaken to act as door-keepers, and it was
understood that no one was to be allowed to enter the room until half-past
seven. At a quarter-past we were warned by a scuffling of feet outside the
door that the company were beginning to arrive. There was considerable
difficulty in restraining their impatience until the hour named for opening;
but the doorkeepers were faithful to their duty. When the doors were
opened, there was an instant rush of juveniles, and in a moment all the front
rows were filled; the occupants casting eager glances at my table and
screen, as though they could a tale unfold, and reveal the coming mysteries.
Terry had cut a couple of little peepholes in the screen, through which we
could survey our audience.
"I don't see any of the masters," I said to Terry, in a whisper. "Perhaps they
won't any of them come, and so much the better."
"Awfully caddish of them, if they don't," returned Terry, in the same tone,
"and a jolly shame, too, after the trouble you've taken to get up the
entertainment. But Macarty will come, never fear; and so will Vernon. I
don't know so much about the Doctor. But why do you say, 'All the better if
they don't come?' I say, old man, you're not funking, are you?"
"Not exactly that, I hope. But I can't help feeling just a little bit nervous. It'll
go off as soon as I have fairly begun."
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"You're quite certain?" said Terry, anxiously. "It'll never do to be funky
now, you know. Have a peppermint drop. They're quite fresh. I bought 'em
this afternoon."
"Thanks, old fellow," I said, rather tickled by the idea of peppermint
lozenges as a remedy for nervousness. "I think not. You'll find I shall pull
through, somehow... By Jove, here's Macarty!"
"So he is," said Terry, applying his eye to the peep-hole, "and Vernon, too,
and a lady with him. My! isn't she a stunner! And by the Holy Poker, here
comes the Doctor and Mrs. Grim, and Monsieur" (the French master). "I
say, old fellow, you'd better have a peppermint."
"Not if I know it. None of your Dutch courage for me. I didn't expect quite
such a distinguished audience-but never mind.
"Come one, come all, this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I." Here I struck an attitude, and very nearly
knocked over the screen. Happily, Terry was just in time to save it.
Meanwhile, a move had been made to accommodate the distinguished
visitors with seats in the front row. These, however, being on a low form
specially designed for very small boys, they declined, and took up a
position at the side; Mr. Vernon's lady friend being seated next to Mrs.
Grimsby.
"Nearly time to begin," said Terry, looking at his watch. "It only wants
three minutes of the quarter. Shall I signal Goles to play up?"
Goles was the boy who had undertaken the part of Orchestra. He was
seated, with his concertina, in the corner just below our screen, and it was
agreed that the waving of a hand in a particular manner from the side was to
be his cue to begin or leave off playing.
"Wait a moment. You're quite sure that everything is in order? Well then,
just give me the hair-brush a moment, and hold the glass for me." Terry
obligingly held up the glass (a three-cornered one without a frame), and I
imparted a few finishing touches to my personal appearance, brushing my
hair well upwards and backwards, and pulling my collar up and my
wristbands down, in order to give myself as manly an air as possible. "Now
then," I said, picking up my magic wand, "Goles may begin as soon as he
likes."
Terry waved his hand as agreed at the side of the screen, and Goles tuned
up accordingly. He had assured me that he knew one or two little things that
would just do, and I had left the items to his own discretion. For my own
part, I don't think I should have selected "Grandfather's Clock" by way of
Overture. That, however, is a matter of taste. Goles went off in fine style,
swinging the machine right and left, and evidently determined to get the
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very maximum amount of tone out of the instrument. For the first minute or
two all went swimmingly, and I was beginning to congratulate myself on
my Orchestra, when the character of the music suddenly changed. It was
still "Grandfather's Clock," but somehow "gone wrong." I had heard of
minor keys, and began to wonder whether Goles had stumbled into one by
accident. As a matter of fact, his Herculean exertions had overstrained the
instrument, and one note had become altogether silent, the effect being to
make Grandfather hiccup in a most disreputable manner.
For a few moments there was an astonished silence, then somebody
laughed, and lastly, everybody laughed. I don't wonder at it, but if it was
sport to them, it was death to Terry and myself, who were personally
involved in the absurdity. I was annoyed, but Terry was furious. "The idea
of that idiot," he said, "bringing in a rubbishing broken-winded affair like
that. And then to have the cheek to keep on playing notwithstanding. We
must stop this." Accordingly, he waved his hand at the side of the screen,
with the agreed signal to stop playing; but Goles, absorbed in his
occupation, did not see it, and ground away at Grandfather and his
asthmatic timekeeper with a perseverance worthy of a better cause. Terry,
exasperated beyond measure, ceased to wave his hand, and shook his
clenched fist instead at the unconscious Goles. The audience caught sight of
it, and entering into the humour of the joke, applauded lustily; Goles taking
the applause to himself, and pounding away more energetically than ever.
At last Terry succeeded, by throwing a paper pellet at him, in attracting his
attention. Grandfather died at last, a blessed release to all concerned, and
the music ceased. Somewhat ruffled by the contretemps, but determined to
do my best to redeem it, I advanced to the audience, and making my best
bow, began my address, which was to the following effect :-
"Ladies and Gentlemen,-In introducing my little entertainment, I am
reminded of what Dr. Johnson (or somebody else) once said of a pun. If it is
a good one, we laugh at the pun; if it is a bad one, we laugh at the fool who
made it. Now that applies pretty closely to conjuring. If all goes right, you
laugh at the tricks; if anything goes wrong, you laugh at the performer; so
in any case I hope you will be able to get a little amusement somehow or
other out of my entertainment. If you don't find anything to laugh at in my
tricks, I can only assure you that you are very welcome to laugh at me!
"My first experiment will be one of a very simple character. You are aware
that birds fly, but you are probably not aware that eggs also can fly, that is,
if you know how to make them do it. Here is an egg, a common hen's egg,
at sixteen a shilling. I don't know how the hens can do it at the price, but
that's their affair. "Here is a wooden egg-cup, with a cover, and here is a
little bag, of the material known as tammy. I will turn it inside and out to
show you that it has no preparation; in fact, it is as free from deception as I
am myself."
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(As a matter of fact, one side of the bag was made double, so as to form a
sort of pocket with the mouth downwards, opening nearly at the bottom of
the bag. In turning the bag, the performer of course takes care not to show
this pocket.)
"Having shown you that the egg-cup is empty, I will place the egg in the
bag. No deception, ladies and gentlemen. You see I simply drop it in. Now,
waving my Wand, I command the egg to leave the bag, and pass into the
egg-cup. Pass! The bag is now empty "-(in turning it upside down I caused
the egg to run into the pocket)-" and the egg has passed, as you see, into the
cup." Taking off the cover, I showed, apparently, the egg in the cup (really
a half shell, previously concealed in the lid, which could be taken off with
or without it at pleasure). "It's a poor rule that won't work both ways. Again
I cover the egg, and I command it to pass back into the bag. Attention!
Presto! Pass!" I showed that the egg had returned to the bag, beside which I
laid it; then taking off the cover of the egg-cup, with the half shell, I
showed the cup empty.
"You did not see the egg pass from the one article to the other? Perhaps I
did it a little too quickly. I will repeat the experiment, and if you watch me
carefully, no doubt you will see the egg fly from the bag to the cup. See, I
place it in the bag once more." I pretended to do so, but really palmed it
(i.e., concealed it in the palm of my right hand), and a moment later laid it
down softly in a drawer behind my table, which was drawn out a few inches
for that purpose, and in which I had placed a thickly folded handkerchief to
receive any article without noise. "I take the empty cup, and close it-so.
Once more, I command the egg to pass. The bag again is empty" (this time I
crushed it up and: drew it between my hands), "and here once more"
(uncovering the half shell in the cup) "is the egg. Again I cover it over, and
command it to disappear, but this time it shall not pass back into the bag,
but will fly into the middle of the audience." I made a gesture of throwing it
with the left hand, opened the egg. cup and showed it empty, meanwhile
secretly palming the egg from the drawer in my right hand. "Which way did
it go? Did anybody see it? Ah, here it is," producing it from under Mr.
Macarty's beard, which, the egg being already in my hand, was not difficult
to do, but the applause was tremendous.
I had had rather a nervous feeling when I first began, but I was encouraged
by my success, and now felt as cool as the proverbial cucumber. I bowed
and proceeded.
"For the purpose of my next experiment, I shall require to borrow a
pocket-handkerchief and a halfpenny." A score of hands were at once held
up with the required articles. Among them was a handkerchief belonging to
Dibley Secundus, with an ornamental border of little black devils chasing
one another all round the edge. For magical purposes nothing could have
been more appropriate, and I gave it the preference, to the great satisfaction
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of the owner, who, I am persuaded, thenceforth took credit in his own mind
for a large share in the trick. I took the first halfpenny that came to hand,
first having it marked so as to be identifiable; and as I returned to my
platform slily dropped it into an open ink-pot on Mr. Macarty's desk, which
chanced to lie in my way. I had already substituted for it (in apparently
transferring it from the one hand to the other) another of my own, which I
had ready in my hand and now held up boldly, so that no one knew what I
had done. Carrying the substitute, still held aloft, to my table, I called
attention to a little round boxwood box, like a large pill-box, but of a more
ornamental description, and of such diameter internally as just to admit a
halfpenny, lying flat. It was about three-quarters of an inch in depth, and
was lined at top and bottom with bright red paper. This I handed for
examination, inviting the company to satisfy themselves that it had no
opening or other mechanical contrivance. When the box was returned to
me, I placed the halfpenny in it, letting everyone see that I did so, and put
the lid on. I then shook the box, the rattling of the coin within proving that
it was really there. "Now," I said, "I have merely to touch this box with my
wand. and the coin will instantly leave it, and pass-where shall we say? into
Monsieur Dupont's waistcoat-pocket'" (I named the French master, because
he happened to be standing close beside the inkpot into which I had
dropped the coin.) "One, two, three! Pass!" I touched the box with the
wand, and again shook it. All was silent. I took off the lid, and showed that
the box was empty, the red paper at the bottom being clearly visible. I
turned it upside down on the end of my wand. "Now, if Monsieur Dupont
will look in his pocket, no doubt he will find the coin."
All eyes were turned on the French master, who began with great
deliberation to search his pockets. "Vat is it zat you say-ze halfpenny in my
poche?" He took out in succession a tooth pick, a trouser-button, a stumpy
pencil and a bit of chalk, and turned the pocket inside out-" But no, my
friend, it must be zat ze coin he have miss his way, I have him not." I put on
an expression of discomfiture-" You cannot find it, Monsieur? Perhaps it is
in some other pocket?" Monsieur obligingly searched all his other pockets,
producing in so doing a very snuffy pockethandkerchief, which set every
one near him sneezing. "I am desolate, my friend, but I find him not," he
said, good-naturedly, compassionating my apparent failure. "It is strange," I
said, "for you can see for yourse!ves that the coin has left the box; but
perhaps the mesmeric influence was not strong enough to carry all the way.
Will some one look, please, on the floor? The coin is sure to be somewhere
between me and Monsieur Dupont." Nothing, however, was found on the
floor. "Will some one look on that desk, please? It might be there, or
perhaps it has fallen into the ink-stand." There was an incredulous snigger
among the boys, the suggestion being evidently regarded as a put-off, to
cover a failure. However, the ink-pot was emptied, and the coin was found
in it. It was carefully wiped, and the mark identified, and the applause
revived with renewed vigour. "If you will hand it to me, I will pass it back
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into the box again." I closed the box, shook it to prove it empty, and handed
it to Terry, making him hold it well above his head, that all might see it. I
then spread the borrowed handkerchief squarely upon the table, and laid the
marked coin in its centre. "Observe, please, that I lay the coin fairly in the
centre of the handkerchief-I will now turn down the corners one after
another over the coin. Once again I touch the coin through the
handkerchief, with my wand, and now command it to go back into the box.
One, two, three! Pass!" Hooking the first and second fingers of each hand
within the fold formed by the two nearest corners, I shook out the
handkerchief. The coin had disappeared. Then taking the box from Terry, I
rattled it; the sound showed that the coin had returned, and opening it, I
turned it out into the palm of my left hand, and handed the box to the
nearest spectator for examination. I then restored the coin to the owner, who
again identified his mark.
The secret of the trick is simple enough, though it sorely puzzled the greater
part of my audience. A duplicate halfpenny is used, one side of which is
covered with red paper, corresponding to that which lines the box. If the
box is shown with the coin in it, Papered side upwards, it naturally appears
to be empty. If shaken up and down, the coin rattles within it; but if shaken
laterally, as the coin exactly covers the bottom, it has no play, and is silent.
A coin, prepared as above, was concealed in my hand before I began the
trick, and when I dropped the borrowed halfpenny into the ink-pot, I
showed this one, the unpapered side upward, in its place. I then put it into
the box so that it might fall with the papered side uppermost. The supposed
disappearance and re-appearance of the coin will be readily understood. By
thrusting my wand into the box, so as to keep the coin in place, and then
inverting the whole, I was able to confirm the impression of the box being
empty.
To make the marked coin disappear from the handkerchief, I used a little
pellet of wax, while I pressed against the corner of the handkerchief nearest
to my right hand as it lay on the table. In turning down the corners in
succession over the coin, I turned down this corner first, at the same time
pressing it, so as to make it adhere to the coin. In lifting the handkerchief as
described, this corner, with the coin attached, came naturally into my right
hand, and on shaking out the handkerchief I was able to show it empty.
When I reproduced the papered coin from the box, the act of pouring it into
my palm made it fall with the unpapered side upwards, and, while attention
was drawn to the box, I secretly exchanged this coin for the genuine one
already in my right hand, which I then returned to the owner.
"Is that all?" some reader may be tempted to exclaim-"Why, anybody could
do that." No doubt they could, if they gave sufficient time and attention to
it, but it will be found upon trial that these little processes, which seem, and
indeed are, so very simple, demand a very considerable amount of practice
to perform them neatly. The mere exchange of a coin as described, though
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perfectly easy and completely illusive in practised hands, would be detected
in a moment in the hands of a bungler. To gain the necessary "finish" I had
taken Terry into my confidence, and had rehearsed the trick repeatedly
under his eyes, he acting as spectator, pointing out defects, and making me
repeat and correct any movement which seemed likely to arouse suspicion.
I had laid the handkerchief, as if carelessly, spread out upon the table, with
about one-third of its length extending over the open drawer (of whose
existence, be it remembered, the audience were unaware). In picking it up
again, I took up within it, from the drawer, a conical muslin bag filled with
bon-bons, which was placed there, small end upwards. The mouth of the
little bag, which was therefore downwards, was kept closed by two pieces
of steel spring. So long as these remained straight, the bag remained closed,
but the slightest pressure on their ends would cause them to bend outwards,
thereby opening the bag, and releasing the contents.
"The handkerchief having served my purpose, I will return it, with many
thanks. Or stay, if the owner will allow me, I will retain it for another
experiment-" (Dibley Secundus magnanimously signified his approval). "I
will now show you a curious effect of the sweetness of the human breath. If
some one will be kind enough to breathe on this handkerchief, we shall
see-what we shall see." Taking a plate from my table, I advanced to the
pretty-looking lady who had come in with Mr. Vernon, and said, "May I
ask you, Madam, to hold this plate, and to breathe upon the handkerchief?"
The young lady took the plate. I held the handkerchief over it, suspended
gracefully between my second finger and thumb, the four corners hanging
down, with the bag concealed within. As she breathed, I stroked down the
handkerchief with the other hand, thereby causing the springs to open, and a
shower of bon-bons to fall on the plate. "Sweets to the sweet. A very pretty
compliment," said Mr. Vernon. The young lady handed me back the plate
with a smile and a blush. I heard murmurs of "Like his cheek" from Jones
Primus and two or three of the elder boys, who, after the manner of their
kind, had conceived sudden and violent passions for the fair visitor, but
their jealous feelings did not prevent their doing full justice to the bon-bons.
Meanwhile, under cover of the sensation produced by the appearance of the
sweets, I had slipped the little bag into my pocket, and "palmed" a small
onion which I had placed there in readiness. I remarked, "I like to ask the
assistance of a lady in this experiment, as the result is generally more
satisfactory, but any one can perform it, if they go the right way to work.
Suppose we try it again; Monsieur Dupont, will you breathe on the
handkerchief this time? I have not another plate, but, perhaps you will hold
your hands beneath to receive the result." He did so, and heaved an audible
sigh over the handkerchief; when I let fall into his extended hands-the
onion, the result being an universal shout of laughter. My selection of
Monsieur Dupont was a mere afterthought, but it happened to be specially
appropriate, inasmuch as it was a standing belief in the school that onions
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formed the leading item of his diet; and the joke therefore told
tremendously. The old gentleman was not in the least disconcerted- "My
faith," he said, good-naturedly, "zat is one ver good trick. One, two, tree,
blow, and he come! I wish I always get ze leetle onion so easy as zat. I keep
him for my dejeuner." And the onion went into his tail-pocket (along with
the snuffy pocket handkerchief) accordingly.
My next trick was the well-known "Hat Die," a wooden die, two and a half
inches in diameter, which is made, apparently, to pass through the crown of
a borrowed hat. This is achieved by the use (unknown to the audience)of a
hollow or "shell" die of tin, painted to match the solid die, and of such a
size as just to slip easily over it. One side, of course, is wanting. An
ornamental cover of stiff leather or pasteboard, just fitting over the hollow
die, completes the apparatus. When first shown, the "shell" is placed over
the solid die, so that the two appear like one only. In this condition they
were placed upon my table, the cover standing close beside them. On my
asking the loan of a gentleman's hat, Dr. Grimsby, the Principal, graciously
handed up his collegiate square cap. This was a tremendous act of
condescension on his part, but the honour was embarrassing, for what I
wanted was the familiar "chimney pot." I explained, in my most persuasive
accents, that that wasn't quite the sort of hat I required; and finally a tall hat
was fetched from Mr. Macarty's room, but I felt that I had lost prestige by
my refusal, and I made up my mind, that thenceforth, whenever the greatest
gun in the company offered his co-operation, I would always accept it,
whatever the result. I have never yet performed before Queen Victoria, but
should I ever do so, and Her Majesty were graciously to volunteer the loan
of her crown, I would make a pudding in it without the smallest hesitation.
To shake off the painful impression produced by my temerity in declining
the Doctor's cap, I dashed boldly at the trick. "Here, ladies and gentlemen, I
have a hat-a borrowed hat. I prefer to borrow on these occasions, because if
anything happens to the hat, it isn't of so very much consequence. This time
I shall merely want to cut a little piece out of the hat just large enough to let
this die go through." I saw some of the boys look at each other with a
knowing smile, as much as to say, they understood now why I wouldn't use
the Doctor's. "You don't object, I suppose, sir?" to Mr. Macarty. "Well, I'd
rather you didn't." he replied, "but I suppose I must leave it to you." "Oh,
you would rather I didn't? Then I must try some other method. I was going
to pass this die" (here I picked it up with the "shell" over it) "through the
crown of your hat. It is pretty solid, as you see" (I brought it down with a
whack on the table), "and I was going to pass it into your hat. I don't mean
like this" (here I dropped it openly into the hat, and immediately took it out
again), "but through the crown. However, if you object to my cutting a hole
in the hat, I can't very well do it that way, so I will pass it through this slate
instead." (I picked up one of the school slates, and laid it across the mouth
of the hat, placing the die upon it.) "Observe, I am going to make the die
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pass through the slate, and fall into the hat. Watch very closely, please, or
you won't see how it's done. Of course, I must first conceal the die, which I
do by placing this cover over it. Pray satisfy yourselves, by the way, that it
is a mere pasteboard cover, and nothing else. You are satisfied? Then I will
place it over the die. One, two, three! Pass!" I lifted the cover, and showed
its interior; the die was gone, and I rattled my wand within it. Taking off the
slate, I inverted the hat, and out rolled the die with a bump on the floor. It
was picked up and handed back to me. "I shall now attempt a much more
difficult feat, namely, to make the die pass upwards, through the slate and
under the cover again. You see" (handing the slate for examination) "that
the hole made by the die in its passage has already healed up. Once more I
place the die in the hat. Again I place the slate across the top, and on it the
empty cover. This time I reverse the formula. Three, two, one! Pass! Once
more the die has changed places, and is again under the cover." I lifted the
cover, and there was the die.
The acute reader, being aware of the existence of the "shell" die, has
doubtless guessed the working of the trick. I dropped shell and solid die
into the hat together, but took out the shell only. When I placed it on the
slate, the open side was downwards, and picking up the cover with a gentle
pressure, I picked up the shell with it, and, showing the inside of the shell
within the cover, proved the latter (apparently) empty. In the second phase
of the trick I lifted the cover without pressure, and the shell, which the
spectators took to be the solid die, again appeared on the slate. The solid die
remained in the hat, and was afterwards secretly removed by Terry, before
returning the hat to its owner.
The above is by no means the neatest or most artistic method of working
the trick in question, but it was the best I knew at the time, and fortunately
my audience were not very critical. I saw one or two of them afterwards
examining Mr. Macarty's hat and the slate with great minuteness, and
Johnson Primus remarked to me afterwards. "I say, old fellow, you had that
other die up your sleeve." It appears to be an article of faith with the
uninstructed public that a conjurer carries everything (from packs of cards
to cannon-balls) up his sleeve. I have even known the remark made with
every appearance of conviction, by an old lady, respecting a Hindoo
conjurer performing in his native costume, and with whom sleeves (and
indeed most other garments) were conspicuous by their absence.
My next trick was that of the "Dancing Sailor," a little cardboard figure
with very loose joints, which being placed on the floor, suddenly stands
erect and begins to dance, keeping time to music. The secret lies in the use
of a black silk thread fastened to a point a few inches above the floor at one
side of the stage. This lies on the floor till needed, when the free end is
taken hold of by the assistant behind the scenes, and the thread drawn taut.
There is a little notch in the cardboard on each side of the head of the sailor,
which enables the performer to hook it on the thread. This being alternately
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pulled and slackened with a series of gentle jerks, makes the figure dance,
throwing its arms and legs about in what, if you "make believe very much,"
like the Marchioness of immortal memory, may be regarded as a hornpipe.
Against a fairly dark background the thread is invisible, and the illusion
perfect. It had been agreed that at this point Goles should strike up, by way
of accompaniment, a piece of music known as the "Row Polka." He did
strike up accordingly, though in the disabled condition of his instrument,
the "row" element was very much more perceptible than the polka. I verily
believe that if there had been half-a-dozen notes short instead of one, Goles
would still have attempted the performance; in fact, he reminded me
afterwards that Paganini used to play the fiddle with a single string, and I
could not get him to see that a concertina with one note would not be
exactly a parallel case. In mercy to the audience, I cut the Magic Hornpipe
very short indeed, and announced that in consequence of an accident to the
"band," the music which was to have enlivened the Interval would be
omitted, and the interval itself cut down to five minutes instead of ten. This
announcement appeared to give lively satisfaction to all present save Goles
himself, who eyed me with an expression which I will not attempt to
describe. I don't think he was naturally a ferocious boy, but if he could have
killed me at that moment, I feel sure he would have done so with pleasure.
His baleful glance even pursued me behind the screen, whither I retired to
make my final preparations for the second part. Terry meanwhile cleared
my table of the articles already used, his proceedings being watched with
breathless interest by the smaller boys.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
|
CHAPTER VIII.
The Second Part of my Entertainment--The Phoenix Card--A Mysterious
Disappearance--The Inexhaustible Bottle--A Cure for Greediness--The
Doctor's Speech.
I
HAD arranged to commence the second part of my entertainment with a
card trick. Card-playing was strictly forbidden in the school, and when I
came forward with a pack of cards in my hand there was quite a sensation. I
saw one or two of the juniors glance furtively at the Doctor, evidently more
than half expecting that the performance would be stopped, and the
professor sent immediately to bed for his temerity. Mrs. Grimsby, who had
not yet forgiven me, I fancy, for daring to refuse her lord and master's cap,
glanced at him also in a meaning way, as if he really ought to draw the line
at that; but fortunately he made no sign of displeasure. I thought it best (if
one may be permitted so daring an expression with reference to a
head-master) to take the bull by the horns, and after shuffling the cards,
spread them out before him, and asked him to favour me by selecting one. I
then asked him to tear up the card he had chosen into eight pieces. He
looked at me doubtfully.
"But if I tear the card, I thall thpoil your pack!"
"So much the better," said Mrs. Grim (as we boys called her) in an
undertone.
"It will be of no consequence," I said, "I can easily make another."
"Oh! well, if you thay tho, tho be it," he said, and tore the card in half.
"Will you kindly tear the pieces in half again; and again, sir, and give the
fragments to me."
He did so. I gave him one of them back again.
"Will you keep one of them, sir, just to identify the card by presently? I will
now take these fragments of the card, and burn them. Meanwhile, perhaps,
somebody else will take charge of the pack," which I handed accordingly to
Mr. Vernon. "You observe, ladies and gentlemen, I burn the fragments of
card to ashes in this plate. Having done so, I just touch the ashes with my
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wand, and the card will instantly be restored, and will pass back to the pack.
Will you say what the card was, sir?"
"The Knave of Thpadth," said the Doctor.
"Will Mr. Vernon kindly see whether the card was returned to the pack?"
"Yes, here it is, but one corner is missing."
"Missing!" I exclaimed. "Oh, yes, of course, I forgot. The Doctor retained
one corner. May I ask you to see, sir, if the corner fits?"
The Doctor adapted the piece he held to the card; "Yeth; it fitth right
enough," he said.
"Then, ladies and gentlemen, you can have no possible doubt that that is the
identical card, so far restored. But the card would be useless in its present
condition, and I must therefore make a further effort to restore it
completely. May I ask you, sir, to place the card and the loose corner in this
little box?"
This was a little walnut wood box about an inch deep, and of such a size as
just to contain a card, lying flat. I closed it, and touched it with my wand.
"Presto! be restored."
Again I opened the box, and the card was seen fully restored. I took it out,
and handed it to the Doctor, who turned it over, and looked at it back and
front, with a comically puzzled expression.
"That ith really very thurprithing," he said, and this was the signal for a
louder salvo of applause than any I had yet received.
If the reader is not acquainted with the trick he may be of the same opinion,
but the seeming marvel is capable of a very simple explanation. I had torn
off, and held concealed in my hand, one corner of a Knave of Spades. The
mutilated card I had returned to the pack, which I placed in an outside
pocket of my jacket. The pack which I offered for the Doctor to draw from
was what is called a "forcing" pack, consisting entirely of Knaves of
Spades, so that there was not the least risk of his drawing any other card.
When I gave him back, apparently, one of the pieces of the card he had just
torn up, I really substituted the corner already in my hand, and while
general attention was attracted to the tearing up of the card I exchanged the
"forcing" pack for the one in my pocket, and handed the latter to Mr.
Vernon. The finding of the card with the corner missing, and its being
found to fit, will therefore easily be understood. For the final restoration I
used what is called a 'card-box,' in which, by turning over the box a loose
slab of wood is made to transfer itself from the one side to the other,
covering the mutilated card just placed therein, and revealing a complete
card, secretly placed there beforehand.
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I was greatly pleased at my success, but tried to look as modest as I could,
and as soon as the applause had subsided, proceeded to my next trick. In
this I introduced a little wooden doll representing an old woman, five
inches high, and a red cloak, closed in front, so as to be in truth, more like a
petticoat, with just space to put the head of the little figure through what in
the case of a petticoat would be the waist. I explained that this little figure
represented the celebrated Mrs. Guppy, a lady who had the faculty, in
spiritualistic language, of dematerialising herself, vanishing, and
re-appearing in a most mysterious manner. I whacked her head on the table
to show that she was pretty solid, and called attention to her cloak of
invisibility, which she was wont to wear on her travels. I slipped it over her,
her head just showing above her drapery, and beaming amiably on the
company.
"Mrs. Guppy will now disappear," I said, but the good lady made no sign of
leaving. "Are you not going, madam?" but still she made no sign of
departure. "Oh, I see what it is, you are waiting for your travelling
expenses."
Placing my hand in my pocket, I made the motion of taking out and
offering her money. "Here is a sovereign for you" (the coin being
imaginary, expense was no object); "will that be enough?" The figure
nodded, and then the head suddenly sank into the cloak and disappeared.
"She is gone, you see, ladies and gentlemen." I drew the cloak through my
hands (I had previously turned up my sleeves) and even turned it inside out.
The figure was obviously gone, vanished into empty air, and yet a moment
later, the old lady had returned, and was nodding away again in her cloak
with all possible geniality.
This little trick, formerly very popular with the mountebanks at country
fairs, is one of the oldest in the repertoire of the conjurer. The figure is
solid, but is in two portions, the head being attached to the body by means
of a wooden peg, which forms a prolongation of the neck. The cloak or
petticoat has a little pocket on its inner side. When the performer is about to
make believe to offer money to the figure, he is holding the figure in his
right hand, the hand being under the cloak. For greater convenience of
getting to his pocket, he transfers the figure to his left hand, and in doing so
draws away and palms the body, which in taking out the imaginary coin he
leaves in his pocket; the left hand meanwhile supports the head in position
from below the cloak, holding it by the peg, and making it nod and turn
from side to side as he pleases. Having disposed of the money difficulty,
the performer lets the head drop within the cloak, and receives it in the little
pocket, of which the spectators know nothing. He is thus enabled to show
his hands really, and the cloak apparently empty. When he desires that the
figure shall re-appear, he has only to place his hand under the cloak, take
the head from the pocket, and slip it up through the opening again.
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My concluding trick was that of the Inexhaustible Bottle. For this I was
indebted to Mr. Vernon, who had asked me if I knew this particular trick. I
told him that I knew the trick, but did not possess the necessary bottle,
when he very kindly volunteered to remove that difficulty by presenting me
with it. It need hardly be said that I had gladly accepted so good an offer,
and the "bottle," one of the very best make, had arrived a fortnight
previously. I may here explain that the Inexhaustible Bottle is really of tin,
japanned, though it has the appearance of an ordinary black glass bottle. It
has a number of separate compartments, each holding a different liquid, and
each having a minute air-hole, which is covered by one of the fingers of the
performer. When all the air-holes are closed the bottle may be inverted and
nothing will run out, but the moment the finger is lifted from a given
air-hole the liquid in the corresponding compartment begins to flow. My
bottle had five compartments, the air-holes being covered by the four
fingers and thumb. The liquors contained in the bottle (also procured for me
by Mr. Vernon) were port, sherry, milk, plain water, and a strong solution
of Epsom salts, disguised in appearance by the addition of a grain or two of
cochineal. I had on my table a large tray of glasses, several of which, kept
discreetly in the background, were specially prepared with a few drops of
tincture of orange-peel, some in like manner with essence of ginger, and
some with lemon syrup. These enabled me to increase the range of choice,
for by pouring sherry into one of the glasses prepared with the orange or
ginger flavours it became orange wine or ginger wine accordingly. The
water poured into a glass containing lemon syrup became lemonade, or by
letting milk and sherry run together into one of the orange-flavoured
glasses, it would pass muster, after a fashion, for milk-punch. I was thus
prepared, exclusive of the Epsom salts, to take orders for eight different
liquors, and I had to trust to my own ingenuity to meet, or evade any other
demands that might arise.
I came forward, bottle in hand, and stood by my table, on which Terry
placed the tray of glasses. These, by the way, were of very small size, so as
to make the liquids go the farther. "You have been listening to me so long,
ladies and gentlemen, that you may be in need of a little refreshment. What
may I offer you, madam?" (addressing Mrs. Grimsby)-"port, sherry, orange
wine, ginger wine, anything you please." Mrs. Grim looked at me
doubtfully, half inclined to think I was hoaxing her. "If you really have all
those things, I will take a glass of sherry." I poured out a glass of sherry,
and handed it to her. She put it to her lips. There was a moment of
breathless interest. I am afraid some of the younger spectators hoped it was
ipecacuanha, but if so, they were disappointed. The liquid evidently gave
satisfaction. Mrs. Grim smiled graciously, and looked, for the first time
during the performance, as if there was some good in conjuring, after all.
Turning to her fair companion I repeated the invitation. "I am very sorry,"
she said, "to be obliged to decline, but I never take wine-I am a water
drinker." "Water," I replied, "certainly, madam, you shall have water, if you
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wish it, or would you prefer lemonade, or milk? It is all the same to me." "I
should prefer plain water," she said, looking a little surprised at the extent
of my powers. I supplied her accordingly. "What may I offer you, sir," said
I, addressing the Doctor. "Well, Mithter Profethor, if it'th the thame to you,
I'll take a glath of good old port." "Certainly, sir." He took the glass, and
smacked his lips with unction. "Very good port, too." His approval was the
sign for a tremendous burst of applause. Mr. Vernon decided for
milk-punch and Mr. Macarty for lemonade. I was afraid Monsieur Dupont
would have asked for claret, which was beyond my resources, but he
fortunately followed Mr. Vernon's example, and demanded a "ponch." Next
came the turn of the boys, and a pretty clamour they made, each shouting
out his selection. If they asked for anything I didn't know, or couldn't give
them, I gave them a combination of two or more liquids, at a venture, and
passed rapidly to somebody else. Finding at last that one or two of my
compartments were running low, I ceased pouring, and addressed the
company as follows :-
"You will readily understand, ladies and gentlemen, that when one
possesses a bottle like this, it becomes merely a question of time to procure
as much liquid as you like, and of what kind you like. This evening,
however, the chief demand has been for intoxicating beverages, and I feel
bound to stop the supply. To prove to you, however, that I do not do this
because the power of the bottle is exhausted, I will now call upon it to
produce a few glasses of the celebrated Rosolio cordial, a beverage of
which you may partake without any fear whatever of its producing
intoxication." Here I poured out two or three glasses of the Epsom salts
solution, whose beautiful pink colour produced a murmur of admiration.
"Who will take some?" "I say, give me a drop, will you," said a boy named
Preedy, holding out his hand eagerly. "I haven't had anything yet." To my
own knowledge this was a fib, for I had served him twice to different
liquors, and I was not sorry to have the opportunity of punishing his
greediness. I handed him the glass, and he took what the Germans call a
cow-gulp, after which his countenance was a study; in the immediate
presence of the Doctor and the ladies, who were close beside him, he could
not very well spit the liquid out again, but was compelled to swallow it.
"What b-b-beastly muck!" he sputtered. "I'll pay you for this to-morrow,
Master Dick;" but I had little fear of his vengeance. "Will anyone else try a
little of the Rosolio cordial?" I asked, with my blandest expression, "I do
not say that it is exactly nice, but I assure you it is extremely wholesome."
Preedy's experience had made his neighbours cautious. One or two put their
lips to the rosy fluid, but passed it on with a grimace and a shake of the
head, and there were no further demands on the Inexhaustible Bottle. "You
are quite sure none of you would like a little more of the cordial. There is
plenty more," I said. "You won't? Then, ladies and gentlemen, nothing now
remains for me but to thank you for your kind attention, and to beg that if,
as I don't doubt, you have discovered my secrets, you won't tell them to
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your wives and families." There was a grand final round of applause, and
then the Doctor, holding up one hand for silence, and placing the other
under the tail of his gown (his favourite attitude), delivered himself as
follows:-" Well, boyth, we've had a very pleathant evening. I had no idea
that the thcool pothethed thuch a withard. I mutht confeth that Hathard hath
even puthled ME" (Mrs. Grimsby shook her head at him, as if she thought it
very unwise to make such an admission), "but we muthn't have too muth of
thith kind of thing; one conjurer in a thcool ith quite enough. I have no
complaint to make of Hathard, but if he had devoted the thame time to his
thtudies ath he mntht have done to practithing all thith nonthenth he would
no doubt have made still better progreth."
And I dare say the Doctor was right.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER IX.
Home for the Holidays--Peter in low spirits--Our attempts at
Consolation--Peter Runs Away--Breaking the News--Return to Dumpton
College--At Home Once More--Showing Off--An Awful Retribution--A
Moral Safety-valve.
T
WO days after the great event recorded in my last chapter Dumpton
College broke up for the Christmas holidays. I had had to fence with
innumerable questions as to how this and that was done. The wildest and
most startling theories were propounded to account for the most simple
results, the theorist generally winding-up with "Come now; that is right,
isn't it? you might tell a fellow." As I knew perfectly well, however, that if I
did tell a fellow the fellow would immediately tell some other fellow, I
preferred to keep my own counsel, and Terry, who was the only one in my
confidence, seconded me admirably. The most gorgeous bribes, ranging
from unlimited penny ices to a nearly new cricket-bat, failed to tempt him
from his allegiance. Indeed, he was so proud of being known to be in my
secrets that he even wrapped himself in a sort of atmosphere of mystery,
and went about ostentatiously dissembling, like a villain at an east-end
theatre. If he had unexpectedly been made a Freemason or a Thibetan
Brother he could hardly have looked more mysterious.
I expressed to Goles, the hero of the concertina, my regret at the
break-down of his instrument, but found him in a very unconciliatory state
of mind. "All jolly fine for you," he said, "bagging all the applause for your
old tricks; you might have let me do my little bit. After practising all one
half-holiday, to be stopped in the middle, I call it a jolly shame; that's what
I call it, so there." "But, my dear fellow," I said, "one note was gone."
"Well, what of that" he said savagely, "a concertina with one note short is
better than no concertina at all, ain't it? And it was only a B flat." Why the
fact of the missing note being only a B flat should be regarded as an
extenuating circumstance I don't know, but Goles evidently considered that
it was so. I did my best to bring him to a better frame of mind, but in vain,
and he concluded by saying that the next time I showed any of my "jolly
old tricks" (the repetition of this phrase seemed to comfort him) I might
play the concertina myself, and see how I liked it.
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On returning home I was received with tears of delight by my mother, and
by the Major and Peter with equal demonstrations of affection, though they
did not take the same form. My six months at Margate had done me
physically a great deal of good, and Jemima volunteered the remark that
Master Dick was now quite "a man grown." I believed it at the time, and
was gratified accordingly, but truth compels me to admit that I kept on
growing for a very considerable time afterwards. Peter and I resumed our
athletic exercises under the supervision of the Major, who was pleased to
find that I had lost neither in strength nor agility. Poor Peter, however, was
in the lowest of spirits. He had now definitely left school, and immediately
after Christmas was to assume his seat on the long threatened stool in Uncle
Bumpus' counting-house. He had the warmest sympathy of the Major and
myself, neither of whom had any taste for the mill-horse routine of a
tradesman's life. The Major gave him good advice, trying his best to
reconcile him to his prospective occupation, but it was only in a
half-hearted way, and ever and anon a word or phrase would slip out that
showed how little liking he himself would have for such a destiny. At the
close of our last morning in the gymnasium Peter remarked with a sigh :-
"I wonder how a fellow feels when he's going to be hanged the next day.
Just about as lively as I do, I should fancy."
"Cheer up, old man," I said, "it's no use grizzling. One must earn a living
somehow, and you've got a rare good opening with Uncle Bumpus. Make
your fortune, I shouldn't wonder."
"Bother the fortune," said Peter gloomily. "Anybody's welcome to the
fortune, for me. A pretty sort of occupation, to sit perched up all day in a
cupboard, giving change for sixpences."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of in that," said the Major, "so long as you
give the right change. Let's see, what is it the man says,
'Honour and shame from no condition rise,
Act well your part; there all the honour lies.'
That's the true secret, Peter."
"It's all very well for you, Major," rejoined Peter. "You wouldn't like it
yourself, you know you wouldn't."
"My dear boy, we can't always do what we like in this world. I have had to
do a good many things in my time I didn't like, I can assure you."
"Oh, yes, I daresay," said Peter, still unconvinced, "but nothing so beastly
as this."
"I don't know. I fancy I have had to do things quite as distasteful to me as
this is to you. We all think our own troubles the biggest, you know. Put a
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good face on it, my dear boy. Perhaps you won't find it so unpleasant as you
think."
"I can't find it worse, that's one comfort. Such a life would be bad enough
anywhere, but with Uncle Bumpus constantly at one's elbow, it will be too
awful. Why couldn't mother have made me a soldier or a sailor, as I wanted
her to?"
"You wouldn't find it all beer and skittles, my dear boy, either as a soldier
or a sailor. It's a roughish sort of life in both cases."
"Anyhow, it's a man's life, and not a mollycoddle's," said Peter. "I do think
you might have persuaded her, Major. She always listens to you."
"My dear Peter, shall I tell you a secret? I did my best, knowing your strong
distaste for mercantile life, to get her to give you a chance at sailoring or
soldiering. But it was no go. You know how nervous she is, and for once I
couldn't move her. So you must e'en make the best of it, and go in for the
fortune Dick talks about. It'll be irksome at first, I daresay, to be tied to a
desk, but you'll soon get over that."
"Never!" said Peter, with conviction. "But if it must be, it must be, and
there's an end of it." And thereupon we went indoors to supper.
The foregoing conversation took place on a Saturday. On the following
Monday morning Peter took a solemn farewell of us and departed to assume
his new position at Uncle Bumpus'. He was to sleep, like the rest of the
apprentices, in the house, only spending Sunday at home. On the Friday
evening, however, a letter addressed in Peter's hand-writing, reached me
through the post. It ran as follows :-
"Dear Dick,
"I'm off. I can't stand it any longer, and I'm going to be a sailor. Tell mother
to keep up her spirits, I shall be all right at sea, but I should have come to an
Early Grave if I had stayed at Uncle Bumpus'.
"Your affectionate brother,
"Peter."
My mother happened to be out when this letter arrived. I took counsel with
Jemima, who agreed to help me to break the news to her. Her mode of
doing so, however, was somewhat peculiar. The moment my mother
returned she began, putting on her most cheerful manner.
"I told you he'd never stand it, mum. Them was my very words, if you
rec'lect. I know'd he couldn't. And they've come true."
My mother looked inquiringly from me to Jemima, and back again. "Who
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couldn't stand what, and what has happened? I'm quite bewildered. Don't
keep me in suspense, pray." And she began to cry.
"It's all right, mother," I said. "It's only that Peter didn't like Uncle Bumpus',
and he's gone to sea."
"Gone to see! Gone to see who?" said my mother, whose emotion
overpowered her grammar.
"Sea, mother, s-e-a. He has gone for a sailor."
"Yes, mum; he's gone for a sailor, what he ought to a been at first, if you'd
took my advice and the Major's, instead of that there Mr. Bumpuses. Ah!
the Major, he is a gentleman, he is, and knows what's what. The idea of a
nice, pleasant-spoken young gentleman like Master Peter, being put
apprentice to a interfering old "-I am convinced Armadillo was on the tip of
her tongue-"a interfering old Image like that there Mr. Bumpus. It wasn't in
natur'!"
"And he has run away, he has run away," sobbed my mother, "and I shall
never, never see him again."
"Oh yes, you will, mother, never fear. He's sure to come and see you after
every voyage, and he'll send you all sorts of lovely things from foreign
countries, ostrich feathers, and-and cocoanuts, and parrots, and monkeys."
"No monkey shall ever come inside my doors," said my mother, with
decision, and, suddenly drying her eyes. "If I thought he'd do such a thing,
I'd, I'd-I don't know what I wouldn't do."
My well-meant attempt at consolation had its effect, though in a different
way to what I intended. My mother's determination to resist the invasion of
her dwelling by a possible monkey had for the moment put in the
background the immediate affliction of Peter's flight.
"No," she resumed, "no monkey shall come inside my house. Oh dear, oh
dear, that I should have lived to see this day!"
"Lor, mum, don't take on so," said Jemima. "Fancy how smart he'll look
with his nice uniform, and his lovely gold eppylettes... Jemima evidently
supposed that Peter would be made a naval captain at once. I did not think
this quite likely, myself, but it did not seem to strike my mother as
improbable, and I let it pass.
"And learn to smoke, and swear, and chew tobacco, and smell of rum, like
that sailor with a wooden leg, who used to sweep the crossing at the
public-house round the corner, and shiver his timbers if you didn't give him
a penny."
"Lor, mum, he won't be that sort of sailor, Master Peter won't. He'll be one
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of the tip-toppers, never fear!"
"If he would only promise not to use tobacco, and never to go up those
nasty masts and things. But he will, I know he will, it's just his nature to be
venturesome."
At this moment, the Major's knock was heard at the door. He, too, had had a
note from Peter, and came to aid in the task of consolation. Under our
united endeavours, my mother became more reconciled to the inevitable,
and with a final protest that she would have no monkeys, succumbed. The
Major promised that as soon as we heard further from Peter he would
endeavour to lend him a helping hand. My mother was very anxious that he
should demand a promise from Peter, never, under any circumstances, to go
aloft, but on the Major suggesting that this might interfere with his
prospects of promotion, she unwillingly submitted, begging the Major,
however, to entreat him, for her sake, to keep downstairs as much as
possible, which the Major promised to do.
A few days later, I returned to Dumpton College. The recollection of my
conjuring entertainment had by no means died out, and a good many of the
boys had been investing all their spare pocket-money, during the holidays,
in magical apparatus. As, however, as a rule, they had never troubled
themselves to acquire the first principles of the art, they did not produce any
very startling effects with their purchases; and such of them as were not
confiscated during the first month or so for irregular exhibition during
school-hours were soon in the market, to be disposed of at a tremendous
sacrifice. There was a popular movement in favour of my giving another
entertainment at the earliest possible date, but this was negatived by the
Doctor, who was of opinion that such excitements, too frequently repeated,
had a tendency to take the attention of the boys from their proper work. He,
therefore, caused it to be understood that no licence would be given for
another entertainment until the following Christmas. I dare say he was quite
right, but his decision, for the time, caused our estimate of his intellectual
faculties, never unduly high, to be even lower than usual. However, there
was no help for it; we were compelled to acquiesce in his decision, and my
performances were limited, as before, to the occasional exhibition of a trick
or two to a select audience of half-a-dozen. I still, however, practised
diligently, being determined that my next entertainment, when it did come
off, should be a much more striking affair than its predecessor. Whether it
would have been so is an open question, for, so far as Dumpton College
was concerned, it was destined never to take place.
I returned home at Midsummer with a couple of prizes, one for French, and
another for arithmetic, in which I had made great progress of late. I was
pretty fair at history and geography, and had a smattering of German; but of
my Greek and Latin the less said the better. I was tolerably quick at picking
up a spoken language, but had not the patience for rummaging among the
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bones of dead ones. We had just finished tea on the evening of my return
home, and I was giving my mother the latest fashionable intelligence from
school, when Uncle Bumpus came in, his hair brushed up more fiercely
than ever.
"Well, Master Dick," he said, after the first greetings had been exchanged,
"so you've come home from school with a pretty good character, hey?"
"I hope so," I said.
"Been getting prizes for parley-vooing and arithmetic, hey?"
"Yes, Uncle Bumpus."
"Mind you stick to the 'rithmetic, never mind the parleyvooing. I never did
any parley-vooing, and look at me! But 'rithmetic, that's your sort. That's
what folks make money by. But you must have it at the tips of your fingers.
None of your dot-and-carry-one business. I wonder if you could tell me
now, what three dozen neckties at four and a half come to?"
"Thirteen and six," I replied, with a smile at the simplicity of the question.
"And same number of pocket handkerchiefs at one, four, and a-half?"
"Two pounds, nine shillings, and sixpence."
"Good lad! And seventeen yards of ribbon, at elevenpencehalfpenny?"
"Sixteen and threepence-halfpenny."
"Very good. And ten and three-quarters of cashmere, now, at four and
nine?"
I had to think a minute or two for this. "Two pounds, eleven, and three
farthings."
"Very good, very good indeed! I didn't think the boy had so much in him.
He deserves to be encouraged; he does, indeed, Maria."
My mother looked pleased, and said she was glad that I should have
deserved his good opinion. He looked fixedly at me for a minute or two,
with his hands in his breeches' pockets, and I began to anticipate a
handsome tip for the holidays, and to wonder how much it would be. But he
took his hands out again without the expected coin, and stuck them in the
armholes of his waistcoat.
"Yes," he said again, "he deserves encouragement, and he shall have it. I
gave that ungrateful Peter the chance, but he hadn't the sense to make use of
it. I'll tell you what I'll do for him, Maria. I'll take him into the shop, and he
can begin to-morrow. He must do his best to learn the business, and make
himself useful as he can, and, perhaps, in a year or two, if he gives
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satisfaction, I may pay him a trifle of salary."
Young people, beware of vanity. I had rashly been tempted into showing
off my arithmetical capabilities, but this was an awful retribution. To be
taken into Uncle Bumpus' shop, the establishment which poor Peter couldn't
tolerate even for a week, and the very first day of the holidays too! Even the
prospect of the trifle of salary in a year or two failed to reconcile me to the
prospect.
"Oh! Uncle Bumpus, not to-morrow," I said. "Why, it's only the beginning
of the holidays." My mother came to my assistance upon this point.
"To-morrow would be rather soon, I think. Of course, I am immensely
obliged to you, Uncle Bumpus, and so is Dick" (I hope she was forgiven),
"but I think we must let him have a little holiday first."
"Holiday!" grunted Uncle Bumpus. "What do people want with holidays, I
should like to know. I never take any holidays, and look at me! You'd much
better let him come at once."
For a wonder, however, my mother remained firm on this point. She was
determined that I should have the same length of holidays as if I had been
going back to school. When that time was fully expired I was to be handed
over to Uncle Bumpus.
For the remainder of those holidays I was a sadder and a wiser boy. Never
again, I resolved, should youthful vanity tempt me to display my
acquirements, but the deed was done. It was of little avail to lock my
educational stable after the steed was gone. The Major sympathised with
me, I knew, but his consolations were mostly of the grin-and-bear-it order,
which being the case I would nearly as soon have been without them.
Jemima's sympathy was very hearty, but scarcely more practical, taking the
form of wishing that she had "that there old Bumpus" in her copper with the
lid on, and similar pious but impracticable aspirations. Her greatest resource
about this time was the knife-machine. The energy which she turned the
handle was positively terrific, and only to be accounted for upon the
supposition that she was at such times, in imagination, polishing off Uncle
Bumpus. But for the moral safety-valve afforded by that valuable invention
I should have trembled for her intellect.
I should here mention that we had heard occasionally from Peter. He was
not yet a captain, but the Major's influence had procured him a rather better
position than that of cabin-boy, in which he had originally started. It was
evidently a very rough life, but Peter seemed to take pretty kindly to it, and
by no means to repent having given up his brilliant prospects at Uncle
Bumpus' establishment. To my mother's great relief he had not as yet sent
home any monkeys or other wild animals, and she began, I think, to hope
that this might possibly be avoided.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER X.
The Last of my Reprieve--The Modern Cagliostro--An Unexpected
Opening--Testing my Capabilities--Assistant to a Conjurer.
T
IME ran on, after its usual habit, and the last week of my holidays
arrived. Seven short days more, and I must surrender my cherished liberty,
and take my post, like a new Simeon Stylites, on the dreaded stool in my
uncle's counting-house. How I envied Peter! I did not desire to follow his
example exactly, for I had no special liking for the sea, but I fancied even
that would be more tolerable than a life-long captivity in that horrible shop.
So matters went on, and I counted the days to what, in my own mind, I
termed my penal servitude. With the greater knowledge (and I hope, better
sense) I now possess, I am inclined to think that it would have been a very
tolerable captivity, not at all worse than the conditions under which
ninety-nine out of a hundred have to earn their daily bread, but I was, in
plain language, a young fool who did not know what was good for me, and
I was in the mood to welcome any alternative that gave me a chance of
escape.
I was in this state of mind when, two evenings before my purgatory was to
commence, I saw advertised the performances of a conjurer, Professor
Victor Vosper, described as "the modern Cagliostro," at a hall at Islington.
On the principle of the condemned criminal, who is allowed a few little
extra indulgences at the last meal he takes before his execution, I
determined to give myself a final treat, and went to the entertainment. The
modern Cagliostro was a very good specimen of the craft, with a bright and
pleasant manner, and a very neat and finished method of performing his
tricks. I enjoyed myself more than I should have thought possible under the
circumstances, but the item that interested me most was a casual remark
made by the Professor, in apologising for some slight change in the
programme, that he had recently lost his assistant, and had not been yet able
to replace him. A sudden thought flashed across me. What if I were to apply
for the vacant post? If the Professor would accept me, I should not only
escape from the hated drudgery of Uncle Bumpus' establishment, but be
earning my bread and gaining fresh knowledge in the occupation which, of
all others, I considered the most delightful. The prospect was too good, I
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feared, to come true. I felt so excited that I scarcely saw the rest of the
entertainment. I had a dim idea of a sylph-like being in gauzy costume
(described in the programme as the Fairy Violante) being led on by the
Professor and made to float in air in exquisite attitudes, and without (as the
police reports say) "any visible means of support," but I seemed to see it all
as in a dream. The momentous question, "Will Professor Vosper accept me
as his assistant?" overpowered all other reflections. I determined to put the
matter to the test without delay, and as soon as the performance was over
asked the doorkeeper if I could say a word to the Professor. I found him in
his shirt-sleeves in a sort of cupboard behind the scenes, beside which,
candour compels me to admit, Uncle Bumpus' counting-house was light and
airy, but to me it seemed the vestibule of fairyland. The Professor made me
a polite bow.
"You must excuse my receiving you here, sir, but we are rather limited for
space. You wish to take a few lessons, I suppose?"
"Not exactly that," I replied, "but I heard you mention in the course of your
performance this evening that you were in need of an assistant. Do you
think I should do for the place?"
"I'm afraid not", he said, looking me over with a quick glance; "you might
do for the place right enough, but the place wouldn't do for you."
"Why not?" I said, rather crestfallen.
"Because it isn't the sort of thing you're accustomed to. No one need look
twice at you to see that. It isn't only the stage business and selling the
programmes, mind you; that's the gentlemanly part of the work, but there's
a lot of rough work as well. How would you like to put on an apron and a
pair of calico sleeves, and sweep the hall and dust the chairs every morning.
That's got to be done, you know-and the assistant has to lend a hand in it."
I winced a little at this prospect, but after all, I thought, I couldn't be sure
that I mightn't have to do the same thing at Uncle Bumpus', so I spoke up
boldly. "If it's part of the regular work, of course I should be prepared to do
it."
"And when that's done," the Professor continued, "there are the preparations
for the evening's entertainment. Not hard work, but a lot of niggling little
things. Cleaning up apparatus from the last night's show, and putting things
ready for another."
"Just the sort of thing I should like."
"Ah, that's what beginners always fancy. I thought so myself once. But wait
till you've done the preparations for the same tricks a couple of hundred
times or so, and you wouldn't be quite so fond of it."
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"I think I should. I have such a love for conjuring that nothing in relation to
it ever seems hard work to me. I practised a good bit at odd times, and I
have had no help what-ever, which made it harder."
"Let's see you palm a coin," said the Professor, taking crown from his
pocket, and handing it to me.
I executed one or two simple passes. "Now the French drop," said the
Professor. I looked at him inquiringly. "Perhaps you don't know it by that
name. Some call it the tourniquet, which is the French name for it. You
don't happen to know French, I suppose?"
"I have never had much practice in speaking it, but I can translate it pretty
well," I said; "I took a French prize last half at school.
"Ah?" The Professor looked more interested. "Let's hear you give the
English of this, now?" The book he offered me was a little paper-covered
affair, called the Almanach Manuel du Magicien des Salons. He opened it
haphazard, and took a page at random. I translated a dozen lines or so
without much difficulty, and he nodded approvingly. "Yes, that's about it.
Can you make the pass?"
I took up a pack of Cards which was lying before him, and made the
required movement. He nodded again: "It's rough, but you've got the
movement, after a fashion. You have never had any lessons, you say?"
"Never in my life."
"Can you face a room full of people without feeling nervous?"
"I have not had much opportunity of knowing. But I have given a show at
school before a couple of hundred boys."
"That's a pretty fair test. You'll make a conjurer some day, if you stick to it;
you've got it in you. All you want is practice, and a little good teaching. But
if you were ever so good at it it wouldn't be much use to you here. I do the
conjuring, and the assistant has to hold his tongue and look pleasant. That's
about his share of the show."
"So I suppose. But I should like to learn what I could, notwithstanding.
"And about money, now? Conjuring isn't a trade you must expect to make
much money at. The most I could give you would be a pound a week, and
find yourself. It isn't what you've been accustomed to, I dare say, but that's
the best I could do for you."
"I don't mind the amount," I said, "if I can manage to live on it. But I'm
afraid I should be rather bothered as to finding myself. I've always lived at
home or at school until now."
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"Well, then, I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I like your looks, or I shouldn't
make the offer. I'll give you five shillings a week for clothes and
pocket-money, and you shall live with us. We don't live like fighting-cocks
exactly, but we never run short of good wholesome victuals, and what we
have, you shall have. Will that suit you?"
"Capitally," I said, "and I'll do my best to give you satisfaction."
"I don't know," he continued, stroking his chin thoughtfully; "I'm almost
afraid you're too much of a gentleman for the berth. However, that cuts both
ways. One other thing, by the way; how about parents and guardians? I'm
not going to get into any bother, mind; so if there's any fear of anything of
that sort, please say so, and we'll cry off at once."
I explained frankly to him my exact position. That my mother could not
afford to keep me at home, and that the alternative to his engaging me was
my becoming cashier at nothing a-year in Uncle Bumpus' counting-house. I
told him that Peter had run away to sea to avoid the same fate, and that no
effort had been made to recall him.
He looked at me thoughtfully for a little while. "I think I may venture to
risk it," he said at last. "I wouldn't let you chuck up anything better to come
to me, but, 'pon my word, you don't seem to stand to lose much. So if you're
willing, I'm willing, and there's an end of it. When can you begin?"
"The day after to-morrow," I said, that being the evening on which I was to
have gone to Uncle Bumpus. I had already been turning the matter over in
my mind, and it had struck me that the easiest way to make my flitting
without detection would be to start as if actually going to Uncle Bumpus',
and when half-way there to turn aside, and go to the Professor's residence,
which for the time being was in a small street in Islington, not far from the
hall where he was performing.
"We sha'n't stay very long in London," he remarked. "I shall be starting in a
week or two for my autumn tour in the provinces; meanwhile, you'll be safe
enough, unless by some unlucky chance some of your friends happened to
come to one of my performances. But it's no good bothering about that.
Time enough to meet trouble when it comes."
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XI.
My Flight--A Wizard at Home--The Professor and his Family--Madame
Linda and the Duchess--My New Quarters--A Big Box and a Small
Bedroom--The Difficulty Solved.
I
MADE my escape to the Professor's without difficulty. My belongings
had been carefully packed by my mother and Jemima, and my trunk was
loaded on to a four-wheeled cab, which was directed to drive to the
Tottenham Court Road. Before I reached Uncle Bumpus', however, I
stopped the man, and made him pull up at a stationer's, where I made some
trifling purchase, and then instructed him to drive to Ledbury Street. The
Major had given me a sovereign at parting, and my mother had treated me
to a couple of complete new suits of clothes, and had given me two bright
half-crowns in addition to my cab fare, so that I was comparatively wealthy.
I reached Ledbury Street between nine and ten in the evening. The
Professor was away at his entertainment, and the household was
represented by a small maid-of-all-work, who appeared to expect me. She
greeted me with the following message, delivered all in a breath :-"O yes
please sir master's compliments and would you put your portmantle in the
'all and take a seat in the front-parlour till he come back which it won't be
much after arf-past ten." After which she panted violently, and no wonder.
My luggage having been deposited in the passage, I walked into the parlour
as requested. The maid turned up a paraffin lamp which was on the table,
and which had taken advantage of being left alone to smoke abominably,
and left me to my own devices. I began with some interest to examine my
wizard's cave, but found little to indicate its magical occupation. The room
was very plainly furnished, containing a horsehair sofa, half-a-dozen chairs
to match, and a loo table covered with a woollen cloth. The mantelpiece
was adorned with a gilt clock under a glass shade-not going-and a pair of
alabaster vases, also under glass shades, but scarcely worthy of the dignity,
unless by reason of age, for they were in the last stage of decrepitude. An
Infant Samuel and a Moses in the Bulrushes, in china, completed the list of
chimney ornaments. A lithograph of the first Napoleon, oddly paired by one
of the Duke of Wellington, and a couple of views of nowhere in particular,
with a good deal of sky, in oil, adorned the walls. There was a photograph
of the Professor, taken in evening dress, and with so much shirt-front as to
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give one the impression at first sight that his latest feat had been to "vanish"
his own waistcoat. The identical wand which he held in his hand in the
photograph-an ebony rod with an ivory death's head on one end of it-stood
beside the looking-glass. There was a pack of cards on the mantelpiece and
a suggestive-looking black box under the sofa, but beyond these items there
was nothing to indicate that the room was the dwelling of a magician. I felt
a little disappointed. I really don't know what I had expected, but it seemed
to me that the abode of a really conscientious conjurer ought surely to be
more characteristic than this.
The general aspect of the room was not very unlike Aunt Priscilla's, and the
association was depressing. To kill time I took up a scrap-book that lay on
the table, and found it to consist of notices, cut from various newspapers, of
the Professor's performances. They were mostly provincial, and all of an
extravagantly eulogistic description. This may have arisen from the fact that
the Professor did not preserve any of the opposite character, but, be that as
it might, I found them very pleasant reading, and was quite prepared to
believe that, as the papers said, there never was such a remarkable Professor
as the Professor with whom I had the honour to be associated.
The perusal of the cuttings kept me pretty fully employed until half-past
ten, when a latch-key was heard in the street-door, and the Professor
entered, accompanied by his family. They consisted of his wife, a little lady
not especially good-looking, but with very pleasant features; her mamma, a
stout, motherly woman, with her hair dressed in the good old railway-buffer
style; and the Professor's daughter, a young lady of twelve. I had already
seen this young lady on the stage, as Lucilla, the "child Clairvoyante," in
which character she had exhibited extraordinary powers of divination, and
had astonished a stout old gentleman nearly into an apoplectic fit by
revealing the number of his Civil Service Ticket. In private life I found the
name of Lucilla was shortened by some peculiar process into Lily, and the
Professor, though according to the bills his Christian name was Victor,
answered in the bosom of his family to the humbler name of Jim.
"Ah, Mr. Hazard," he said, "so you haven't changed your mind. Well,
barring old Gimp, the money-taker, here you see the whole strength of the
company. We all have a finger in the pie. Here's the missis, who does the
music and the "suspension" department. Lily you have seen in the
'second-sight' business; and Mrs. Carrick, better known as the 'Duchess'
(not a bad sort, though she is my mother-in-law), is prompter, scene-shifter,
bellows-blower, and general utility. Upon my word, I believe, if I didn't
come up to time, she'd give the show herself."
"Jack of all trades and master of none, eh, Jim?" said the old lady, with a
good-natured smile. "Jim will have his joke, Mr. Hazard; you mustn't take
any notice of what he says."
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"Heyday!" said the Professor; "that's a pretty sort of thing to tell one's new
assistant; a good look-out for the maintenance of discipline on the
quarter-deck. If you go on like that, Duchess, 'pon my word, you shall give
the show yourself. But we can talk over our supper. I hope it's ready. I
know I am."
"I should say so, by the smell of it," said Mrs. Vosper, answering, I
presume, the first part of the observation. And truly a fragrant odour of
onions-plebeian but delicious-had for the last half-hour been pervading the
house.
"I know what it is," said Lily, "It's tripe!"
"By a faculty of divination peculiar to herself, this gifted child will discover
and describe the most out-of-the-way articles," said the Professor, putting
on his stage manner, and quoting from his entertainment.
"Really, Jim, mother is right," said his wife. "I never knew such a man for
talking nonsense. Come along, do, into the next room and have your supper.
We're plain folks, Mr. Hazard, and our ways may'nt be quite what you've
been accustomed to, but we're hearty, and if so be you can make yourself at
home with us, we'll do our best to make you comfortable."
"Thank you, ma'am, never fear. I'm quite sure I shall be comfortable," I
replied, heartily; for her bright smile and kindly manner, and the general air
of good-fellowship that prevailed throughout the family would have placed
even a more bashful youth than myself at his ease. We moved into the
adjoining room, where a cloth was laid, and were speedily seated round the
table, discussing a dish of the commodity indicated by the clairvoyant
faculties of Miss Lucilla, washed down by some capital porter. I never
enjoyed a meal more thoroughly. When it was over, the Professor said, as
he lighted a long clay pipe :-
"Supper's the best meal of the day with us show-folk, Mr. Hazard. At
dinner-time we've all our troubles before us-like the young bears. But when
the show's over, and the lights are out, then our time's our own, and we
begin to enjoy ourselves. Don't we, Duchess?"
"Yes, all pro's* (*Short for "professionals.") likes their supper," said the old
lady, who was now sipping a glass of gin-and water, "and a drop o'
something warm after it. Won't you take a drop, Mr. Hazard?"
"Thank you, I never touch spirits," I said.
"That's right," said Mrs. Vosper, "and I hope you never will. No, Jim, I'm
saying no harm, and I mean to have my say. Mr. Hazard, if I had a son, my
prayer, morning, noon, and night, would be that he should never touch
spirits. A young man's not bound to be a teetotaller exactly. A glass of
wholesome beer won't hurt anybody. I like my glass of beer myself; but if
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you wish to be a good and happy man, keep clear of spirits."
"Hold hard, old lady," said the Professor good humouredly. "It don't strike
you perhaps, that your little oration is rather rough on me and the Duchess.
Mr. Hazard will think we're regular lushingtons."
"Not that, thank God," said his wife, "I was'nt speaking for you or mother;
you're old enough to please yourselves. But when a young man is just
beginning life, as Mr. Hazard is, he can't keep too clear of temptation."
"Thank you, Mrs. Vosper," I said, though a little surprised at her emphatic
manner; "I believe you're quite right, and I mean to stick to my beer."
"The missis is right enough, Hazard. By all means keep clear of spirits as
long as you possibly can. But show-life takes it out of one a good deal, and
when you come to my age, you'll be glad enough, I expect, to take a drop of
whiskey-and-water now and then, as I do. Eh, Duchess?"
"I must say I like my little drop at bedtime," said the old lady. "It don't
much matter what it is; just little and good, as the sayin' is."
"Show-life is uncommonly wearing, Hazard, as you'll find when you've
seen more of it, and we are show-folk to the backbone, aint we, Duchess?"
"That's so. Born and bred in the sawdust, I was," said the old lady, "and so
was Linda there."
"Circus," said the Professor, explanatorily, seeing that I looked puzzled.
"You wouldn't think it perhaps, Mr. Hazard, but the Duchess was a
celebrated tight-rope performer in her day. And the missis here used to be
as pretty and as daring a circus-rider as ever jumped through a hoop. I
believe she could do it now. Eh, Linda-Houp la!"
"I shouldn't care to try" said Mrs. Vosper, laughing. "I expect I should come
an awful cropper. But I used to be pretty good at it till I got old and
nervous."
"Old and nervous! Get along with you," said her husband. "The Fairy
Violante: the best and prettiest suspension performer on the boards! Old
and nervous! Come, old lady, you're fishing for compliments!"
The last sentence was a revelation to me. I had been wondering all the
evening where I could have seen Mrs. Vosper, whose features seemed
somehow familiar and yet unfamiliar to me. At last the mystery was solved.
The Fairy Violante, the sylph-like being in pink gauze and fleshings, was
Mrs. Vosper! But still I was puzzled. The Fairy Violante had long fair hair,
and looked at most sixteen or seventeen, while Mrs. Vosper's hair was dark,
and her age must certainly have been three or four and thirty.
"You, ma'am, the Fairy Violante!" I exclaimed in astonishment.
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"You did'nt recognise me?" said Mrs. Vosper. "Very few people do, I
believe. A fair wig and a good make-up make all the difference. Mother is a
capital dresser."
"So I ought to be," said the old lady. "I've had plenty of practice, and I think
I can do as much with the grease-paints as here and there one. I should like
to make up Mr. Hazard for Charles Surface or for Romeo. He'd make a
capital Romeo."
"To your Juliet, eh, Duchess?" said the Professor :-
"'O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!'"
"'That hand' will be making acquaintance with your cheek, if you don't
mind, Jim," retorted the old lady, but by no means angrily. "Linda do make
up well in Violante, though, don't she, Mr. Hazard?"
"You have astonished me so that I have not got over it yet. I am quite sure
the Violante I saw was not more than sixteen or seventeen at most."
"And I am?" said Mrs. Vosper, with a smile. "That's very ungallant of you,
Mr. Hazard."
"The old lady owns to 'more than seven,' Hazard, and that's as far as she'll
go. However, a woman is just as old as she looks, they say, so we'll put
Violante down at sixteen. I'll tell you how we work the oracle. Perhaps you
may have noticed a morose-looking person"-
"Jim, you'll catch it," interposed his wife.
"Who played the piano till the beginning of the second part, and then
retired. That was Mrs. Vosper-Madame Linda in the bills. As Madame
Linda she is dressed in black, with her hair brushed down pretty flat, so as
to look a hundred and fifty or so. As soon as she's done her little bit at the
piano, off she goes, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and
once behind, she whips into her dressing-room, slips off the black velvet
gown, and on with the fancy costume and the fake for the trick-she is
dressed underneath for it all ready beforehand-the Duchess makes up her
face and puts the fair wig on her, and-Houp la! there you are. Enter the
Fairy Violante, before you can say Jack Robinson; and even those in the
front row never suspect that the plain-looking party at the piano" ("Jim, I
shall bite you," interjected his wife)" is the same person as the young lady
of fifteen or thereabouts, who trips on the stage so airily and goes to sleep
on nothing in such an elegant manner. But so it is, sir, and that's how it's
done! You'll see the whole fakement to-morrow night. Linda, my dear, it is
'the very witching hour of twelve,' and something over, and that child is
yawning her eyes out.
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'It's high time,' he said,
'For all elderly devils to be in their bed,'
and middle-aged devils, and young devils too, I'm thinking. Come, Lily,
child, say good-night; and I'll give you a hand with your trunk, Mr. Hazard,
up to your room. It isn't quite as large as the Regent's Park, but it's the best
we can do for you."
Lily departed, looking very sleepy. I said good-night to the rest of the
company, and assisted by the Professor, lugged my trunk up to a little
back-room on the third-floor, which was to be my resting-place. It certainly
was not large. It contained a small stump-bedstead, a wash-hand stand, a
chest of drawers, and a single chair. There was a vacant space of about four
feet square in the centre. The arrangement of the furniture had been planned
with great judgment, for the ceiling sloped in so many directions that the
open space in question was the only part of the room in which I could
possibly stand upright.
"It is a little cramped," said the Professor, as we flopped down my trunk,
which was rather a large one, into this open space. After which he sat down
on the chair, and mopped his forehead.
"I shall have to fancy I'm at sea. I should have still closer quarters then."
"Right," said the Professor. "A very good idea. Fancy you're at sea. Things
might be worse, after all; for you needn't fancy the motion of the vessel."
"Yes, that's a blessing. But about this box. It can't stay where it is, of
course."
"You couldn't have it cut down a foot or so, so as to go under the bed, could
you? Nobody can want a box of that size, you know. What a fellow you
must be for cuffs and collars! If I'd known you were going to bring such a
Noah's Ark as that, I'd have thrown out a bay-window, or built a wing, or
something, but there really isn't a room in the house that'll take it with
comfort, and I'm none too sure about the foundations. 'Pon my honour I
don't know what we can do with it, unless we put the wash-hand stand out
on the landing, and you wouldn't like that, I suppose?"
"No, I'm afraid I shouldn't. I like a wash once in a way, and the landing
would be rather public. But I'll tell you what we might do. We might put the
box itself out on the landing."
"A most excellent thought," said the Professor. "O wise young judge! A
very Daniel come to judgment.' We will! We will place it on the landing. I
know there's one drawer of that chest, if not more, that opens, and in that
you can put your neckties and things. 'Monster, begone!'" We placed the
trunk on the landing accordingly, and the Professor, wishing me
good-night, retired to bed.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XII.
Reconnoitring the Premises--Lily and her Dog Tip--The "Second. Sight"
Trick--Beginning Work--Gimp the Money-Taker--The Professor's
Programme--Opinions of the Press--Behind the Scenes-Learning my
Business.
I
WAS awake betimes the next morning, and forgetting for the moment the
architectural peculiarities of my apartment, bumped my head severely
against the ceiling in getting out of bed. I found, however, that this could be
avoided by the use of extra caution, and that after a little practice I should
probably be able to get in and out without danger.
My first act, after I had got over the unpleasantness of my sudden contact
with the ceiling, was to look out of the window. This sounds simple
enough, but in my case it was a serious and complicated proceeding. The
window was a dormer, and the chest of drawers stood in the recess, and
served the purpose of a toilet-table. There was no room to move the drawers
away from the window, and I had therefore to clamber on the top of them.
My next operation was to draw up the blind, which was on the old
fashioned "aggravator" principle, worked by a pulley-rack and endless cord
at side. When down it looked all that could be desired, but when I
endeavoured to draw it up it insisted, from some organic defect in its
composition, on running up askew, and after a few turns of the roller got
jammed, and would not go up at all. I compromised the matter by drawing
it down again and pinning it up corner-ways, so as to get a three-cornered
space of window clear. I cannot say that the view rewarded my exertions,
inasmuch as it consisted exclusively of chimney-pots and red tiles. But I
felt that I had conquered. Moreover, I was now able to open the window,
which was a great relief, for the sun was streaming in, and the atmosphere
of my castle was getting unpleasantly warm. From my vantage-ground on
the chest of drawers I looked around and took a bird's eye view of my
territory. It was undeniably small; in point of fact it was the smallest
apartment, for the habitation of a grown person, that I had ever seen in my
life, but there was consolation in the fact that I had it to myself. At Uncle
Bumpus' I should have had to share a room with three or four more
apprentices-an arrangement to which I had a great objection. Further, my
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new domain was scrupulously clean, and I made up my mind that when I
had got a little more accustomed to its architectural eccentricities I could
make myself very comfortable in it.
Having completed my toilet, which did not take me long, for shaving did
not trouble me at that period, I went downstairs. I found the table laid for
breakfast in the room where we had supped the previous evening, but
nobody was downstairs, save Miss Lily, who introduced me to her dog Tip,
a halfbred pug of highly intelligent aspect, who, on his mistress'
recommendation, at once took me into favour, and testified his regard by
jumping up on my lap, wagging his tail in my face, and leaving nearly
enough hair on my garments to make a coat for another dog. His name of
Tip was "short" for Tippee Sahib, an elegant cognomen, but found a little
too elaborate for every-day use. I cannot say that he was a good house-dog,
for he had a curious habit of only barking at his friends, whom he
invariably greeted with volleys of canine fireworks, but strangers he treated
with silent contempt, and I am satisfied that burglars might have walked off
with the whole of the family possessions without his uttering a sound of
remonstrance. In society, however, he was a highly emotional dog, and
when excited wagged, not only his tail, but his whole body, as if he had
been bitten by a tarantula spider and was compelled to dance himself into
calmness again. I never, saw a more intelligent dog, or one with a keener
sense of humour. If the family were tickled by a joke-and the Professor's
high spirits made such occasions numerous-Tip shook his sides with the
best of us, and the manner in which he would dance round a hidden biscuit,
and pretend, twinkling the while all over with fun, not to know where it
was, till the least feint to take it away brought him down with a swoop upon
it, was a perfect study in dogsology.
I gained Lily's heart at once by teaching him a new trick, which I had seen
performed by a dog at a circus: namely, to lie down, shamming dead, but at
the words, "Policeman coming," to jump up and run as if in terror. I never
had an apter pupil; Tip understood instantly what was required of him, and
entered into the joke like the most accomplished actor. The look of alarm
with which he got up and sneaked away when the awakening formula was
pronounced was admirable.
"Isn't he a delicious dog?" said Lily, after he had repeated the feat some
half-dozen times.
"He certainly is;" I replied, "a most remarkable dog. But anyone could see
at once that he was not a common dog by the way his hair comes off."
"Doesn't the hair come off common dogs, then?" Lily asked.
"No doubt it does, but not to such a magnificent extent. At the rate Tip's
hair comes off, if he were a common dog there wouldn't be a bit of him left
in a week."
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"Do you really mean it?" the child asked with the utmost gravity. "No; you
are making fun of me, and I won't have it. You had better take care, or Tip
shall bite you."
"I hope he won't; I'm sure I should disagree with him. I really do think him
a very clever dog, and I think it's only proper that such a clever dog should
belong to a conjurer."
"But Tip doesn't belong to a conjurer. He's not papa's dog. He belongs to
me, my very own self. Uncle Harry gave him to me. Didn't he, my dear old
doggie?" Tip responded, with his tail, in the affirmative.
"Well, but you are half a conjurer, you know ;-or shall we say a
conjuress?-or you couldn't do that wonderful clairvoyance trick. You are
very fond of conjuring, I suppose?"
"Fond of it! I hate it."
"Hate it? Hate conjuring!-Why, I think it's the most delightful thing in the
world."
"Perhaps you haven't seen as much of it as I have. Oh! that horrid
second-sight! It's all very nice when you're on the platform blindfolded, and
hear the people clapping, though it's hard work enough even then-but the
real hard work is learning the Code. You know how the trick's done, I
suppose?"
"Not exactly; but I imagine the question tells you in some way the answer."
"Yes, that's right-that's what we call the Code. If papa begins the question
with ' Come,' I know the thing belongs to a certain list, and the next word
tells me which of that list it is; then there are lots of little short sentences
that all have a meaning. Pa will explain it to you some day, I dare say, but it
takes a dreadful time to learn. I began it when I was ten years old, and pa
wouldn't let me try it in public till I had been at it for a year and a half, and
even then I used often to make mistakes at first. Once, I remember, I said a
gentleman's card was a pawnticket, and, the gentleman didn't like it, and
poor papa was quite put out. Sometimes, too, you get all sorts of funny
things handed up that are not in the Code, and then it is dreadfully difficult.
One night, a gentleman handed up a glass eye, and another time there was a
bone, like the niggers rattle about in their hands, and once a boy brought a
live mouse; but I don't often get puzzled now. Almost every week pa thinks
of something or other to make the Code still more complete, and then we
practise till I've got it right."
"But you like the other tricks, don't you?"
"I used to, at first, but I've seen them so many times that I don't care for
them now; and very often I feel so sleepy before the entertainment is over
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that I would give anything to be in bed, and papa and mamma are
sometimes nearly as tired as I am. I often wish papa kept a grocer's shop,
like Uncle Harry. I think it would be ever so much nicer."
The little lady's confidences set me thinking. There was a seamy side, then,
even to the delights of conjuring. However, I had no time to pursue my
reflections, for they were interrupted by the appearance of the Professor. I
had hitherto only seen him attired in evening dress, in which he made a
very gentlemanly appearance. He was a decidedly good-looking man, about
forty years of age, with curly hair, a round, jovial face, grey eyes lighted up
by a lurking spirit of fun, and a well-shaped, mobile mouth. He wore no
moustache and but little whisker. He was small of stature, inclined to be
stout, but remarkably quick and active. He was now arrayed in a rough
tweed suit, with a soft felt hat, of the brigand-cum-butterman order, worn
very much on one side, and compared with his stage appearance, looked
like his own butler, off duty.
We sat down to breakfast, which did not take very long, and when the meal
was finished, he said, "Now then, Hazard, put on the worst coat you
possess, and we'll go round to the hall."
Accordingly we departed, accompanied by Mrs. Carrick, who had donned
an old black alpaca gown scarcely befitting her ducal rank. I remember
thinking that the public would be rather staggered to see the Modern
Cagliostro, with his mother-in-law and assistant, in such commonplace
garb, but if they were staggered they didn't show it, and we reached the hall
without having, to all appearance, been recognised by anyone. The hall,
which had looked smart enough when lighted up at night, by day wore a
painfully shabby and woe-begone appearance; indeed, it was difficult to
realise that it was the same place. It was a gloomy, half-lighted building,
adapted to contain from three to four hundred spectators. An old man in a
green baize apron and a sealskin cap was sweeping under and between the
seats, throwing down occasionally a handful of damp sawdust to lay the
dust, and accompanying his work with a hissing noise, as if rubbing down a
horse. He was a very small man, with features so hard and shiny that they
might have been carved out of lignum vitae; short, scanty, grey hair; thin,
sunken lips; dark, keen eyes, which he screwed up as though the sun was
shining in his face, and a pair of spectacles with almost enough iron in their
frames for the hilt of a Highlander's claymore, worn very much askew. He
had a way of holding his head on one side which reminded me of a tame
jackdaw which I once possessed, and which came to an untimely end by
pursuing a black-beetle under the kitchen boiler and missing his way out
again.
"Well, Gimp, how goes it?" said the Professor, as we entered.
"Mornin', governor," said the old man, touching his forehead
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with a dirty forefinger, but without suspending his occupation. "This is our
new assistant, Gimp."
"Ah," said Gimp, folding his hands on the top of his broom, and resting his
chin upon them, while he examined me at his leisure. Apparently the result
of his inspection was satisfactory, for he continued, half to himself, half to
his master :- "Now he do look to have all his buttons, he do."
"You can teach him a thing or two, can't you, Gimp?"
"I reckon I can, if he's got any sort of head on his shoulders. But as for that
there last assistant, Tuppy, I never see such a animal; you might have biled
him without biling any sense into him."
It struck me that such might not improbably be my own case, but Mr. Gimp
evidently had faith in the process, for he repeated with the greatest
seriousness, "Ah, biled him! And what might your name be, sir?"
"Dick Hazard," I replied with some confidence, for I felt that my
cognomen, at any rate, compared favourably with Tuppy.
"Hazard," repeated the old man, with his head more than ever on one side.
"It ain't a bad sort o' name, and I don't see why he shouldn't answer,
governor. But that there Tuppy!" (harking back to the old grievance) "you
might as well try to teach a donkey the polka."
And therewith the old gentleman resumed the hissing noise, and went to
work again at his sweeping with renewed vigour.
"Gimp's a character," remarked the Professor, aside to me; "it don't take any
one long to see that. But he's the right sort, and takes as much pride in the
show as if it was his own. He knows a good deal of the business, besides
being a very fair mechanic, and if you keep on the right side of him your
work will come all the easier."
"He seems a keen old fellow."
"Keen! He's as sharp as a needle. In his youth he was a super at Drury Lane,
and though, as you can see, he is a man of little or no education, he'll spin
you off whole scenes of Shakespeare with scarcely a mistake. However, we
must get to work. You had better lend a hand to Mrs. Carrick to begin with.
Gimp does the sweeping, and you and she do the dusting. When you've
done come to me, and I'll give you a notion of the stage arrangements.
Gimp will find you a duster."
The Duchess was already at work. She had pulled her dress through the
pocket-holes in the most unassuming manner, and was now hard at work
where Gimp had swept, dusting the backs and cushions of the seats with
great energy. This was hardly what I had expected when I decided to
embrace conjuring as a profession, but obviously it had to be done by
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somebody, so I set to work with a will, and was presently gratified by
hearing Gimp say in an undertone to Mrs. Carrick, with a nod towards me :-
"He'll do. Ain't afraid of dirtyin' his hands, he ain't." Judged by this
standard, Gimp himself must have been a treasure.
"New brooms sweep clean," replied the old lady in the same tone. "But I
think he'll do, too." And I dusted away more vigorously than ever, with the
reflection that the sooner I finished, the sooner I should get to the Professor
and the magical portion of the preparations.
The sweeping and dusting of the hall took three-quarters of an hour, after
which the Duchess put her dress back through the pocket-holes, and
dismissed me.
"What! done so soon?" said the Professor, as I made my way to the
platform, very warm, and nearly as dusty as Gimp himself. "You'll make
work scarce at that rate, and Gimp'll have to retire from business. Well,
now, to give you a little insight into the platform part of the work. First run
your eye over that programme."
I took up the printed programme, which, omitting dates, &c., ran as follows
:-
MAGIC AND MYSTERY.
---
TRANSPOSITIONS! TRANSMUTATIONS!!
TRANSMOGRIFICATIONS!!!
BY PROFESSOR VICTOR VOSPER:
THE MODERN CAGLIOSTRO.
PART I.
THE MAGICIAN'S MINT.
THE WAY THE MONEY GOES.
AN ENCHANTED HANDKERCHIEF.
THE FEAST OF LANTERNS.
----
An Interval of Ten Minutes.
PART II.
PROFESSOR VOSPER will introduce
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LUCILLA,
The Child Clairvoyante:
Who will give her Marvellous Illustrations of
SECOND SIGHT!
After which
PROFESSOR VOSPER will exhibit some Startling Experiments in Animal
Magnetism, including-
THE SUSPENDED WAND AND
THE OBEDIENT BALL.
And finally will introduce
THE FAIRY VIOLANTE:
Sleeping in mid-air, in a variety of graceful positions.
The whole forming
The most MARVELLOUS EXHIBITION ever offered to the
British Public.
Pianoforte-MADAME LINDA.
On the opposite page were:-
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS AND PUBLIC ON
PROFESSOR VOSPER'S PERFORMANCE.
"Not a dry eye in the audience, or a handkerchief to wipe them with. The
Professor had borrowed them all."--Muddleborough Gazette.
"We were told that Professor Vosper's performance must be seen to be
believed. We have seen it, and we wouldn't believe him on his
affidavit."--Slocum-Podger Court Circular.
"We did not wait to see the close of the performance, but hurried home to
lock up the silver spoons till the Professor had quitted the
neighbourhood."--Clapham Junction Advertiser.
"Just the thing to improve the mind of a thoughtful boy. My son Peter was
intended for the Bar, but has now decided to be a conjurer instead. He has
already smashed his Grandmother's watch, and borrowed four half-crowns
from his aunt. It is three weeks ago, and he has not 'restored' them yet, but
expects to be quite able to do so in a week or two."--Solomon Knoodle.
"Professor Vosper is a fraud. He produced three half-crowns from my nose,
and said he could keep on, if necessary, all the evening. I have since blown
my nose eleven hundred and fifty times, and worn out three
pocket-handkerchiefs, without extracting a solitary copper."--An Indignant
Subscriber.
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"A most interesting and instructive performance, but I don't think the
explanations as to 'how it's done' are quite as clear as they might be. My
wife attempted to cook our Sunday pudding after the Professor's method,
but it was not a success. She burnt a hole in my best hat, and I find raw egg
in my hair every time I wear it. We are going to try again next Sunday, with
more eggs, when we hope for a better result."--A Candid Inquirer.
"Professor Vosper's performance is enough to curdle one's hair, and make
one's blood stand on end. I wouldn't be that man's wife! no; not for the
riches of Creases."--Marartha Brown.
"You've got to the 'Opinions,'" said the Professor, seeing me smile. "How
d'ye like 'em? Not bad, are they?"
"Very good indeed," I said. "Where on earth did you get them?"
"All out of my own head, my dear boy. I used to print genuine press notices
on the back of the programme:--'Brilliant assemblage of Beauty and
Fashion on Monday evening in the Town Hall, Little Puddleton, to witness
Professor Vosper's most Marvellous Entertaimnent'--and so on. Got dozens,
hundreds of 'em. Rare flowery chaps, those country reporters! But the
public wouldn't read 'em at any price. So one day a happy thought struck
me. Thinks I to myself, 'Dash it all! Let's give 'em something they will
read.' And I've done it ever since. The jokes are not exactly A-1,
copper-bottomed, perhaps, but they pass muster, and keep people amused
during the waits. It's half the battle if you can keep your audience on the
grin, and a right down good chuckle from one man will often start a whole
row. If I could afford it, I should like to keep a professional chuckler on the
establishment, just to set 'em going, like the claque, you know, in France.
It'd pay--I'm convinced it would. But we mustn't chatter when there's work
to be done. You've seen the programme for the public; now run your eye
over this."
He handed me a sheet of paper, also marked 'Programme.' The different
items of the printed programme were written at the left hand, and opposite
them a list of the requirements for each trick to the minutest detail, so that
they might be instantly to hand as needed. "You'll have to pay attention to
this, for as soon as you've got your hand in a bit I shall leave this part of the
work to you. You see these abbreviations:-C. T., S.T.R., S.T.L., and so on."
"Yes; I was just wondering what they meant."
"All simple enough, when you're used to them. C.T. means centre-table,
S.T.R. side-table, right; S.T.L. side-table, left. Each of these tables, you see,
has a little shelf behind it, called a servante, and on this you have to put the
necessary articles. Sometimes they may be on the top of the table, and not
on the servante. Knowing the trick, of course you know well enough which
of the two it is to be. For instance, against the 'Feast of Lanterns,' you see
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'Lanterns C.T.' That means that the set of lanterns for the trick is to be put
in readiness beforehand on the servante of the centre-table."
"And B.S., O.S., and B.O., what do they mean?"
"B.S. is 'behind the scenes.' B.O. is a mem. for myself, and means that I
have to 'bring on' such and such a thing with me, when I come forward;
O.S. is 'on self.' That means something that I have to bring on with me, but
palmed or otherwise concealed."
"Is this a plan of your own, or do other conjurers adopt the same system?"
"Something like it, most of them; though perhaps not to the same extent.
Some trust to memory; and, of course, if a man's working the very same
programme night after night, without any variation, he soon gets it at his
fingers' ends, and can see at a glance if he has all he wants. I like, myself, to
see things in black and white, and where you have to trust an assistant to get
things ready for you, of course it's doubly necessary not to leave things to
memory. Anything less than 'all right' is 'all wrong' in conjuring, and some
trifling thing not in the right place may put you in a most awful fix."
"Have you ever been sold that way, Professor?"
"Have I? I should rather think I have, my son! But that I haven't time at
present to tell the secret of my mischances, 'I could a tale unfold-'"
He raised his voice as he spoke the last words, and the quotation was
instantly taken up by Gimp, striking an attitude with his broom, and rolling
out the periods in a sonorous bass:-
"'--a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres;
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.'"*
(*Hamlet)
"I thought I should start him," said the Professor. "You haven't forgotten the
old trick, then, Gimp?
"Forgotten, governor! forgotten Shakespeare! Never till the-
"'-last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
In second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans.-everything!'"**
(**As you Like It.)
"That's the worst of Gimp," said the Professor in an undertone. 'When you
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have once turned on his Shakesperean tap there's no knowing when he'll
leave off. I shouldn't wonder, now we've started him, if he fired off a lot of
loose Shakespeare at the company as they take their tickets this evening. I
verily believe he dreams Shakespeare when he's got the fit on him. I've met
him in the dimmets talking to himself about a 'damned spot,' and declaring
that all the perfumes of Arabia wouldn't sweeten his little hand. Fancy
Gimp's little hand and the perfumes of Arabia! Happy combination, isn't it?
But we're frivolling again. Now, look here, and follow me closely. 'THE
MAGICIAN'S MINT.' That's the Shower of Money, you know; catching
money in the air. You see the note is, 'Ten half-crowns, O. S.' That's my
affair. I come forward with two half-crowns palmed, and eight more in this
little pocket here (which is called a pochette, by the way), just behind my
left trouser-leg. I have another on the other side. 'Ten ditto, loaded, and
money-tray, C.T.' You know what 'loaded' means?
"That it has something in it, I suppose."
"Right, so far; but it always means something introduced secretly. The
money-tray-here it is-has a sort of flat tube underneath it, open at one end,
to take four half-crowns, and 'loaded' means that four half-crowns are to be
in it. That we will place on the table. The ten half-crowns will be placed
just at this corner of the servante, so that I can palm them at the right
moment, when I want to double the quantity of the money I've collected
from the air. You'll understand better after this evening's show. What comes
next?"
"'THE WAY THE MONEY GOES. Half-crown casket and green glass
loaded, C. T.'"
"Here is the glass. You see it is nearly opaque, and it is 'loaded' with four
half-crowns, under the false bottom. At present they are held tight, so that
they mayn't rattle, but if I move aside this little catch underneath the glass
the flap is set free, and the coins are left loose in the glass. As I said before,
you'll understand it better when you see me work the trick. By the way, you
see there's a special note here. 'Drop Coins, B. S.' That means that certain
coins are to be dropped into a glass behind the scenes, to make the
spectators believe that other coins drop into a glass in front of the scene, but
Mrs. Carrick will do that. It's too near the beginning of the programme for
you to come behind. You'll be busy showing the people into their seats."
"And the casket, what is that?"
"This elegant little box, like a sarcophagus to bury a tom-tit in, is called 'the
half-crown casket.' You see there are slits for four half-crowns, and if four
half-crowns are placed in them, each time I close the box one of them
disappears, till all four are gone, when you can turn the box upside down,
and nothing will fall out. The mechanism is very clever."
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"A thing of that sort must be costly, I should think."
"So are most good things, and particularly in conjuring. A badly made piece
of apparatus is worse than useless. That little box is Bland's A-1, and cost
me five-and-thirty shillings. What's next? 'THE ENCHANTED
HANDKERCHIEF.' That doesn't want much preparation. 'Pieces of
handkerchief, O.S.' That means a small handkerchief torn into a dozen
pieces, a dozen more sewn together in a long strip, and one separate piece;
all tucked at different points under the front of my waistcoat. 'Smoke-Vase
and cover ready. Cover, C. T.' You see this glass vase and cover. These are
separately prepared by just wetting the inside of the cover with
hydrochloric acid and the inside of the vase with liquid ammonia. The
cover I have ready on the centre-table. The vase I bring on with me when I
come forward for the trick. When the cover is put on the vase the fumes of
the two chemicals unite, and form a dense white vapour like smoke. You
will see how I work the vase into my trick."
"And the 'Feast of Lanterns?'"
"That means the production of lighted lanterns from a borrowed hat. A
first-rate trick, and always goes down with the public. The mem. is
'Lanterns, C. T,' lanterns, centre-table. Here they are, on the servante, you
see. There are eight of 'em, tin at top and bottom, and so arranged that they
will all pack together into this little parcel, only an inch-and-a-half thick,
though when they are lifted out of the hat they are each nearly a foot high."
"And what does 'Hook ready, B. S.,' mean?"
"Hook ready behind scenes. That is a little iron hook like a button-hook,
with a wooden handle, which is used to lift out each lantern by the wire
bow at top. This has to be ready behind the scenes, 'ready' meaning in this
case that the metal part is to be nearly red-hot. It is heated in a spirit lamp
on purpose, and serves to light the candles in the lanterns by just touching
the wicks, which are specially prepared. Of course the spectators don't
know that the iron is hot. You will have to bring on the hook for me after I
have begun the trick. The second part commences with Lily's little bit.
There's no preparation for that, or rather, the preparation's all here," tapping
his forehead, "and pretty stiff preparation it is, I can tell you."
"So Miss Lily was telling me this morning."
"If you want to get prematurely bald, to ruin your digestion and your
temper, and get your brain into permanent knots, with a new set of bumps
in wrong places, go in for the Second-sight business. I almost wish I'd never
touched it; but it goes down with the public. Then we come to the
Suspension Trick. The 'Suspended Wand' and 'The Obedient Ball' are
merely two little tricks to lead up to the grand effect, and to give the missis
the more time to change, and make up her face. The Suspended Wand I
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work by means of a little 'clip,' which just fits round the wand, and sticks
out at right angles to it, so that you can grip it between the sides of the
fingers. See, here it is."
The Professor took up a light black rod, about half an inch thick, which was
standing close by, and showed me how, by means of a little movable clip
which slipped on and off at pleasure, he could attach it to his fingers, and
wave the wand about in any direction, as if suspended by some magnetic
influence.
"And 'The Obedient Ball?'" I said.
"Here is the ball, or rather the balls, for there are two of them, though the
audience only know of one. Here is No. 1: a solid wooden ball, about four
inches in diameter, with a cord loosely threaded through it. "This is the old
'Obedient Ball,' originally a Japanese trick, I believe. You observe that the
cord runs quite loosely through it, with a tassel at each end. See, I put my
foot on one end and hold up the cord in a perpendicular position. The ball
runs down by its own weight, as you would naturally expect. But if I
mesmerise it a little, and then lift it halfway up the cord, you see it remains
suspended. I move it a little higher, and still it remains. Now I will order it
to slip down halfway, and then stop. You see it obeys. Now, ball, go six
inches further, and stop! Again it obeys. You look puzzled?"
"I certainly am."
"And yet it is simple enough. The hole through the ball is not bored straight
through, but is crooked, like an elbow. As long as the cord is slack it slips
through with perfect ease; but as soon as it is tightened it is drawn hard
against the inner angle of the elbow and is held fast. Simplicity itself, you
see, if you only know how it's done. There's much virtue in that particular
'if,' anyhow. When I want the ball to fall I slacken the cord; when I want it
to stop I pull taut."
"But, if I remember right, when I saw you perform the other evening, you
made the ball travel up the cord."
"Quite so; but that was done with this other ball, which I secretly exchange
for the first one. See, when I tighten the cord, the ball begins to rise."
"That is a very extraordinary effect. How on earth is it managed?"
"This supposed cord is in reality two cords, wound on drums within the ball
of different diameters; one cord comes out at top, and one at bottom. When
the one cord is wound up the other unwinds. When the cord is drawn taut
the undermost cord, which is coiled on the larger drum, unwinds, and
thereby winds up the upper cord, and so makes the ball rise. It's simple
enough if you were to see the inside of the ball, but it is rather difficult to
make it clear by mere description. Lastly, we come to the 'Suspension trick.'
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This is the corset," indicating a light iron framework with straps and pads in
various directions.
I turned it this way and that in bewilderment. "I don't quite understand," I
said.
"Don't you? The lady to be suspended (the missis in this case) wears that
iron framework, securely strapped round her body, under her costume. Here
is the rest of the apparatus. Two uprights, one of plain wood, the other also
of wood, but with an iron core. The lower end of this fits into a socket in
the platform, and this hinged steel bolt, which you see comes under the
right arm when the corset is worn, drops into a hole in the top of it. Then
the stool on which the lady has been standing is taken away, leaving her
apparently resting on the two uprights, but really seated on this padded
crutch, which forms the lower part of the corset. Then the wooden upright
is taken away, and in due course she is lifted, first into a slanting, and
finally into a horizontal position, still supported by the framework; this
ratchet-joint under the arm adapting itself to the various positions.
Meanwhile, I give 'em the patter about mesmeric influence, and so on, and
drape the lady, who is supposed to be in a trance all the while, in various
costumes. The effect you have seen."
"And very charming it is. I shall be doubly interested in seeing it now that I
know the secret."
"If you are, you have a genuine love of conjuring for its own sake. That's
the test. To nine people out of ten a trick loses three parts of its interest if
they once know the secret."
"That will not be so in my case, I can assure you. I shall quite look forward
to this evening."
"Very good; I hope you will enjoy it. Your duties 'behind' with the present
programme are only nominal, being limited to giving me the heated hook at
the right minute for the lanterns. In some cases, of course, you would have
a great deal more to do. It all depends what tricks I am working. To-night
your chief business will be to take the tickets as the company come in,
show them to their seats, and sell them as many programmes as you
possibly can. And now we'll go home to dinner."
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XIII.
Breaking the News of my Flight--Mistaken Suppositions--The Lack of a
Dress-coat--My first Experiences as a Gentleman Usher--Awkward
Customers--Money-making Extraordinary--A Sceptic convinced--An
Enchanted Handkerchief--A Light-headed Gentleman.
I
HAD already sent the Major a letter, asking him to break to my mother
the news of my flight, if my prosaic departure in a four-wheeled cab can be
dignified by so poetical a name. I thought it safest not to enter into
particulars, but merely said that I really could not screw up my courage to
enter Uncle Bumpus' establishment, and had been fortunate enough to find
an easy and genteel occupation in a different line. Why this purposely
indefinite statement should have induced my mother to believe that I had
apprenticed myself to a hairdresser I cannot say, but such, it appears, was
her conviction, and for some months she was constantly wasting her money
and diminishing her not too abundant chevelure by having her hair cut at
new establishments, in the vain hope that the tonsorial shears might be
wielded by her wandering son. She even pressed the Major into the service,
and our good old friend, for the sake of humouring her, at first complied;
but having had his already short hair cropped three times in a fortnight, he
began to look so unpleasantly like an escaped convict that he was perforce
compelled to give up the quest. An endeavour to interest Jemima in the
same direction had failed utterly. Jemima scouted the hairdresser theory.
She would have it that I had enlisted as a soldier, and never saw a
lifeguardsman's legs -the utmost she could see of him from the kitchen
window-pass the area railings without rushing up to the front door to see if
the upper part of him corresponded with the missing Dick, who, by the way,
must have grown considerably if such had been the case. Occasionally one
of these gigantic warriors would mistake Jemima's intention in thus
suddenly appearing at the door, and would address her, after the manner of
his kind, in language of affection, but the rout of such warriors was
tremendous to behold. I believe that some of them would sooner have
shared in another Balaclava charge than have faced a second outburst of
Jemima's indignant virtue.
These particulars, of course, I did not learn till long afterwards.
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To return to the incidents of my first evening as assistant to the Professor: I
took care to be dressed in good time, and put on my best suit of clothes,
which chanced to be a black one, deeply regretting the while that I did not
possess a dress-coat, and registering a vow to provide myself with one at
the very first moment that my funds would permit. It is curious how
circumstances alter cases. This remark has, I believe, been made before, but
the bearing of it, as Mr. Bunsby would say, "lays in the application of it."
There was a boy at Dumpton College-a rather fat boy, which tended to
emphasise the circumstance-who was made to wear, for economical
reasons, a cast-off dress-coat of his father's. That innocent garment wrapped
him about with ignominy, and caused his native name of Simpson to be all
but superseded by ribald sobriquets, such as "Waiter," "Coming, Sir," and
"Tails." Even I, in my youthful ignorance, had despised that boy by reason
of his unaccustomed garment. Now, I would have swapped my best jacket
for it with the greatest possible pleasure. However, there was no help for it.
I did my best to give myself an evening-dressy appearance by the addition
of a white tie, and started with the Professor to the hall, where the ladies
were to follow a little later. I peeped in through the ticket-hole on Gimp,
who had just taken up his position in the money-taker's box, and who still
had the Shakespeare fit on him. I chanced to say, thinking he might not
recognise me in my brushed-up and white-tied condition, "You remember
me?--Hazard."
His reply, rolled out in a tremendous bass, from the depths of the
ticket-office, was,-
"'Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe! Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth-'"*
(* Hamlet)
How much further he may have gone on I cannot say, for the effect was so
alarming that I fled, and made my way with all haste into the hall.
There were three classes of seats, costing two shillings, one shilling, and
sixpence, and distinguished by green, pink, and white tickets respectively,
but the Professor had omitted to mention this last point to me. The first
arrival was a party of four, two men and two women, all of rather rough
appearance, who proceeded to take up their positions in the front row of the
two-shilling seats. I had just handed each of them a programme, when,
glancing at the tickets they had given me, I saw that they were for the
sixpenny seats. "I beg your pardon," I said, "but you have made a mistake, I
think. These are not your seats." "Ow d'ye mean?" said one of the party,
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who might have been, from his appearance, a chimney sweep who had just
washed, or a bricklayer who hadn't, "Who says they ain't our seats?"
"I mean that these are two-shilling seats."
"Well, and we've paid two shillings, ain't we?"
"But these seats are two shillings each, and you have paid only sixpence
each. Those are the sixpenny seats, there at the back."
"Then why couldn't you say so at first, young man, instead of waitin' till
we'd took our seats and settled ourselves down comfortable? I'm sure there's
room enough. Why, there ain't a blessed person in the 'All except ourselves.
I tell ye what; here I am, and here I stick. Eh, Bill?"
The party referred to as Bill gave a sort of grunt, and observed In a husky
voice that that was about the size of it.
I was beginning to get rather nervous, for these were clearly not the sort of
people to be acceptable to the expected aristocrats of the two-shilling seats.
Meanwhile two young men had come in with shilling tickets. I showed
them into their places, and then returned to the obnoxious party in the front
row.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, you really must move to the seats you have paid
for. You did not give me your tickets till you had taken your seats, or I
should have shown you to your right places at once. You will get me into
serious trouble."
"That's your look-out, for not taking the tickets fust," said the man who had
already spoken. Fortunately one of the women interposed. "Lor, Dan, it ain't
worth makin' a fuss about. We don't want to get the young man into any
bother. It'll be all the same come Christmas. Here, come along."
The two women got up and moved to the sixpenny seats, and their male
companions, after a final grumble, followed them. They settled themselves
down into their new seats, but none of the party had shown any sign of
paying for their programmes. Meanwhile, a lady and two children had come
in. I showed them to their seats and again returned to the first party.
"Bust my body, if he ain't here again," said my original antagonist. "You
don't want us to move again, mister, do you?"
"The programmes, if you please."
"You don't want 'em back again before the show begins, do ye? Why, you
give 'em to us yourself."
"But you have not paid for them. They are a penny each."
"A penny each! A penny for a little dirty bit of paper like that?
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"That is the regular price, sir."
"Give 'em back to him. It ain't good enough, young man; when I want
literatoor I buy Lloyd's paper. Summut for your money, that is. A regler
imposition, I call it."
And thereupon the whole party handed me back their programmes, but
sadly changed for the worse. They had received them crisp and clean. Now,
they looked as if ham sandwiches had been wrapped in them. I could hardly
have believed that the mere pressure of the human thumb, however warm,
could have produced such richness of effect. Of course the programmes
were now unsaleable, but I thought it best to take them back without demur,
glad to close the matter even on such unsatisfactory terms.
The company now began to come in rapidly. The front seats were not
patronised as freely as they might have been, but the shilling and sixpenny
places were well filled, and by eight o'clock we had a very fair house.
Punctually, as the clock struck, the curtains were drawn aside, and the
Professor, in irreproachable evening dress, came forward, wand in hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "I propose to exhibit for your
amusement this evening a few experiments in Natural Magic. I need hardly
tell you that I don't claim any supernatural powers. There is nothing in all
that I shall show you this evening that you couldn't do yourselves if you
only knew the secret and practised long enough. I should recommend you,
therefore, to take particular notice of everything I do, so that you may see
exactly how it's done, and then, if your inclination lies that way, go home
and do it.
"Let me ask you to remark, however, that my methods of working are
somewhat different from those of most other conjurers. For instance, I
require a little money for the purpose of my first experiments. Most
conjurers, under such circumstances, borrow the amount they want. I don't.
I never borrow money. I prefer to steal it. In Order, however, to keep
myself out of the clutches of the law and to avoid getting 'run in' until it is
absolutely necessary, I never steal any money that belongs to anybody.
There is plenty of loose cash belonging to nobody about, if you only know
where to lay your hand upon it. I really can't say what's the cause; whether
it's unpaid Income Tax, or unclaimed dividends, but the air seems positively
metallic to-night with nobody's money. If some gentleman will oblige me
with a hat I will collect a little." A hat was handed up. "Thank you, sir. A
very admirable headpiece, and just the thing for a money-box. Now, to
begin!
"This evening I shall only, collect half-crowns. A half-crown is a good,
solid, sensible coin, and you can see it without spectacles. What do you say,
sir? You never saw a half-crown with spectacles, did you? No, I thought
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not. Ah, here is one of them, just burning itself in the flame of the candle. I
will drop it into the hat. And here is another, sticking to the heel of my
boot. In it goes! And another, here, floating in the air. In that goes too! And
another close to it! And one on this lady's bonnet. And another in this lady's
handkerchief. I drop each one into the hat. We are getting quite a collection.
More? Oh, dear, yes, plenty more. Here is one on this young gentleman's
head, and-dear me, yes, it is! another on this young gentleman's nose.
Excuse me, my dear, but you have another under your chin. Thank you! In
it goes!"
At each phrase the Professor apparently picked up or caught with his
fingers a half-crown from the point indicated. The illusion was perfect, and
I watched him with the greatest possible interest, the more so that, from
previous knowledge and his explanations of the morning I had a pretty fair
notion how the trick was done, and was able to appreciate the neatness of
his manipulation. It will be remembered that the working programme
indicated that the performer was to bring forward ten half-crowns, two
being palmed in his right hand, and eight more in a secret pocket, so as to
be instantly get-at-able. In the act of borrowing the hat he dropped the left
hand to this pocket, palmed the eight coins, and immediately transferring
the hat to that hand, grasped it with the fingers inside, the eight coins lying
flat against the lining. The first coin which he apparently "caught" was one
of those palmed in the right hand, and was unmistakably tossed into the hat.
The second of the two palmed coins served , for the remainder of the trick,
the performer by a quick movement bringing it into view at the tips of his
fingers and making believe to throw it into the hat, but instead of doing so,
again palming it, and dropping into the hat instead one of the eight coins in
the left hand, the sound of the coin as it fell into the crown producing a
complete illusion. Two points, however, puzzled me. I noticed that the
Professor repeatedly showed his right hand empty, and yet the next moment
he would "catch" a coin. Once or twice, instead of throwing the coin into
the hat in the ordinary way, he would pass it, apparently, through the side or
crown. This I could understand, knowing that the actual coin shown was not
the one which fell into the hat, but presently came a new marvel, which
staggered me completely. As if for my personal benefit, the Professor
remarked "Perhaps some of you ladies and gentlemen may not believe that
the coin really passes through the substance of the hat. I will repeat the
pass, and do it slowly, so that there may be no mistake about it."
He made a pass towards the crown, and the coin remained sticking in the
substance of the hat, half in and half out. He gave it a gentle rub, and it
passed in altogether. He made a final catch, caught apparently another coin
and threw it up in the air, catching it in its descent in the hat.
"I could go on like this all the evening, ladies and gentlemen, but I am
afraid you would find it rather monotonous after the first hour or so, so
perhaps we may as well go on at once to something else. Let us see how
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many coins we have collected:-One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,
nine, ten. I thought there were more, but I can easily make them more. I
have only to take them up in my hands, and give them a gentle rub, so."
He took them up and rubbed them between his hands, letting them fall on
the tray.
"Ah! that is better. Let us see how many we have now? Two, four, six,
eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty. That will do, I think."
I had noticed that while he was counting the coins for the first time, the
Professor's disengaged hand had carelessly approached the ten half-crowns
on the servante, so I had no difficulty in understanding this portion of the
trick.
"Now, I propose to show you the facility with which money (this particular
kind of money, at any rate) will pass from place to place. Here is an empty
glass."
He turned the green glass upside down, and rattled his wand within it.
"I will place it here, in full view, on this little table, and I want you all to
keep one eye upon it. I will next invite your attention to this elegant little
casket. You will perceive that it has four little slits in it, in each of which I
will place a half-crown. One, two, three, four! No deception, here they are,
you see, unmistakably in the box, and visible to the naked eye. Now I am
going to order these coins to pass one by one out of this little casket into
that glass on the table. If I were to hold the casket myself you might suspect
some deception, consequently I shall ask some one else to hold it. Will you
oblige, madam? Thank you. See, for the last time, that you have all four
coins. Right? I close the box, and leave it in your own keeping. Now, ladies
and gentlemen, you were to keep one eye on the glass; keep the other eye,
please, on the casket. One, two, three! First coin, pass."
There was a chink, really behind the scenes, but so perfect was the illusion
that, but for Professor Vosper's explanations of the morning, I could have
sworn a coin had fallen into the visible glass.
"You saw it go, no doubt? No! Well, you heard it, at any rate. Will you
open the casket, madam?"
The casket was opened, and one coin had vanished.
"Let us try the experiment again. Perhaps some other lady will now hold the
casket?"
The experiment was repeated. A coin was again heard to fall in the glass,
and on the casket being opened two half-crowns only were left in it.
"Let us try again."
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The experiment was repeated, with the same result. There was now only
one coin left. A voice, which I recognised as that of my late opponent, was
suddenly uplifted from the sixpenny seats.
"Here, I say, mister, you wouldn't let me hold that there box, I suppose?"
"By all means," said the Professor, advancing to him with the open casket
in his hand, "if you will promise to take care of the money."
"I'll take care o' un, never fear, but I must see first that I ha' got un."
"You can see that without much difficulty," said the Professor, handing him
the open casket.
"Yes, I ha' got 'un, right enough, and I'm going to keep 'un," said he,
shutting the box, and gripping it with a power of thumb which fully
accounted for the condition of my unfortunate prgrammes. "You don't want
to touch 'un no more."
"Very good," said the Professor, walking away towards the platform.
The man held the box tighter than ever, remarking with a grin to those
around him, "I reckon I've spoilt the old chap's trick this time. If he gets the
half-crown out this time I'll eat un."
"One, two, three! Last coin, Pass!" said the Professor.
The customary chink was heard in the glass on the table, and the Professor,
turning to his antagonist, held out his hand for the casket.
"Oh no, ye don't. There's some hanky-panky about that there glass, but I ha'
got the half-crown right enough."
He opened the box and the coin had vanished.
The face of our vanquished foe was a picture. He looked from the box to
the Professor, from the Professor to the glass, and from the glass back again
to the casket, with the most comical expression of bewilderment, almost
amounting to terror, I ever saw in my life.
"Well, I am--"
The last word was lost, perhaps fortunately, in the shout of laughter which
greeted his discomfiture. He sat down, but almost instantly stood up again.
"Hi, mister!" he shouted, wildly beckoning with his arm in my direction.
"Let's have them there programmes again."
I handed back the soiled programmes to him, nothing loath, and diving to
the depths of his breeches' pocket, he hauled out a handful of coppers and
paid for the whole party. Meanwhile the Professor turned the casket upside
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down, and then, going to the table, picked up the green glass (in so doing
releasing the catch), and poured the four coins it contained upon the tray
with the rest. The applause was tremendous, the sceptical individual being
the loudest in his demonstrations. It is a curious fact, which I have
frequently had occasion to notice in my magical experience, that the most
trivial circumstance enacted under a man's own individual nose will carry
more conviction to his mind than the experience of any number of third
persons, though infinitely more qualified to judge of the value of the
phenomenon. And so with our friend of the casket. From absolute
scepticism he had passed to absolute belief, and I have no doubt that for the
rest of his days he retained a firm conviction of the genuine supernatural
powers of the Professor.
The Professor resumed:-"Some of you, perhaps, may imagine that the glass
or the casket had something to do with the effect produced. To show you
that such is not the case I will repeat the experiment without using either of
those articles. But I shall want the assistance of some gentleman to hold the
money. Will you oblige, sir?" to the hero of the incident just concluded, but
that gentleman shook his head with great decision. "No, thankye. I've had
my whack," he said. "You can give somebody else a turn." A volunteer,
however, was quickly procured, and was asked to count the coins on the
plate. He did so, and reported that there were twenty. He was then asked to
place his hands together cup-wise to receive the coins, which the Professor
accordingly poured into them from the tray. The performer then requested
him to hand back four coins. Being asked how many remained, he naturally
replied sixteen. "Quite so," said the Professor. "I see you have studied
arithmetic; four coins you have given me, and sixteen you have left together
make twenty. Hold those sixteen coins, please, very tightly. I am going to
stand as far as possible away from you and to pass these four coins
magically into your hands along with the sixteen you already hold. Are you
ready? Good. One, two, three, Pass!" He showed his hand empty, having in
the apparent transfer of the coins from the one hand to the other got rid of
them by sleight of hand, and on the coins being counted the young man was
again found to have twenty. Knowing the construction of the tray, I readily
conjectured that when the Professor poured the twenty coins from the tray
into the young man's hands the four concealed in the space below slipped
out, and became mixed with them, so that when he thought he had but
sixteen left he still had twenty; but the mystification of the audience was
complete, and the applause tremendous. The Professor made his bow, and
retired to make his preparations for "The Enchanted Handkerchief." These
did not take long, for he almost instantly returned, holding the Smoke-vase
in his hand. This he placed by the side of the glass lid, which was already
on the table.
"For the purpose of my next experiment I shall have to ask the loan of a
small lady's handkerchief-or I should rather say a small handkerchief
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belonging to a lady. I have one of my own, but if I were to use it, you might
fancy there was a false bottom to it, or a little boy in it, or something of that
kind; so I think it better to borrow. Thank you, madam, a very nice
handkerchief. May I do what I like with it?"
"As long as you don't damage it," was the reply.
"Ah, now you have made me nervous. I was just going to tear it up and
burn it, but if you won't let me damage it, of course I must give up that idea,
so I'll merely cut a little piece out of the middle instead. You won't mind
that, will you?" And without waiting for the reply the Professor rapidly
caught the handkerchief by the middle, drew it between his fingers, and
snipped a piece from the centre with a pair of scissors. All was done so
quickly that the unfortunate owner had hardly time to utter a cry of
remonstrance. She evidently gave up her handkerchief for lost, not knowing
that what the Professor had cut was not really her handkerchief, but a bit of
cambric which he had adroitly placed against it, and then drawn between
his fingers as if it formed part of the fabric. Taking the cut piece, which
when unfolded made a circle about the size of a five-shilling piece, he
remarked, "I shall now burn this portion of the handkerchief in this candle.
Meanwhile, perhaps some one will hold the other portion of the
handkerchief for me."
A volunteer was found in the person of a tall gawky youth, and was invited
on to the platform. The Professor rolled the (supposed) mutilated
handkerchief into a ball and handed it to him, or, I should rather say, made
believe to hand it to him, for he in reality substituted a similar ball
consisting of loose pieces taken from under his waistcoat. He then set light
to the small piece of cambric, and remarking that he should want the
smoke, covered the vase with the lid, and waved about the burning cambric
over it, when the vase was instantly seen to fill with dense white fumes.
"Now, sir," he said to the young man holding the handkerchief on the
platform, "be kind enough to rub that handkerchief gently in a circular
direction from left to right, and you will gradually rub the hole away." The
young man began, but his performance was not satisfactory. "My dear sir,
not so roughly as that. When I told you to rub the hole away, I didn't mean
the whole of the handkerchief, I only meant the hole in the handkerchief;
you needn't rub so savagely as that. Goodness knows what injury you may
have done, and I promised the lady that the handkerchief should not be
damaged. Here, give it to me." He unfolded the handkerchief, which was
found to be torn to pieces. The Professor pretended great annoyance.
"There, sir, you see what you have done. If you had rubbed it gently, as I
told you, the handkerchief would have been all right. Now it is in twenty
pieces. Well, as you have done the mischief you must repair it. You had
better take these pieces while they are still soft and see if you can't rub them
together again." The young man took the bundle, looking even more foolish
than before, and began to rub once more, this time very gently, but still the
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Professor was not satisfied. "No, sir, that won't do! I told you to rub in a
circular direction, and you rub in semicircles. Here; let me show you how to
rub." He took the handkerchief, which, falling apart, appeared in the form
of the long strip, which had been deftly substituted. "There now, sir, you
see what you have done. I'm very sorry, madam, but it is really not my
fault. If the gentleman had done as I told him it would have been all right. I
hope you won't mind. Your handkerchief is all there, though it is a little
altered in shape. What do you say? It is no use to you like that? You hear
what the lady says, sir. She won't take the handkerchief like that. What do
you value the handkerchief at, madam? Eighteenpence? Then, sir, you had
better pay the lady eighteenpence, and keep the handkerchief." The gawky
youth began to look more and more uncomfortable, but the lady came to his
rescue by declaring that she didn't want eighteenpence, she wanted her
handkerchief. Finally, the Professor, rolling it up once more and
dexterously substituting the original handkerchief, dropped it into the
smoke-vase, clapped the lid on again, waved his wand over all, and a
moment later took out the handkerchief perfectly restored, and after pouring
a little eau-de-cologne on it, to remove the smell of the chemicals, handed it
back to the owner. The gawky young man on the platform grinned from ear
to ear, greatly relieved to find that he was not going to be made to pay for
anything, while the lady carefully examined her handkerchief, and seemed
greatly surprised at finding no traces of its various misadventures.
The next item was the trick described in the programme as "The Feast of
Lanterns." I slipped round behind the scenes, where Mrs. Carrick had
already lighted the spirit-lamp for heating the iron hook. The Professor,
meanwhile, had borrowed a hat, and, while discussing its shape and make
with the owner, had deftly introduced the lanterns. He then asked the
proprietor whether he was ever light-headed, as there was something in the
hat which would almost lead him to suppose so. The gentleman pleaded not
guilty, but the Professor called to me for the hook, and forthwith proved his
case by producing eight Japanese lanterns, each about ten inches high by
five in diameter, and containing a lighted candle. These were hung about
the stage in various prominent positions, where they made a very pretty
effect, until concealed by the fall of the curtain, which indicated the close of
the first part of the entertainment.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XIV.
The Clairvoyance Trick--Mesmeric Influence--The Suspended Wand--The
Obedient Ball--The Fairy Violante--The Morality of Conjuring.
T
HE second part of the programme commenced with the "Clairvoyance,"
or "Second-sight" performance. Mrs. Vosper, who had, up to this point,
been seated at the piano, playing a selection of waltzes and other light
pieces, now rolled up her music and quietly disappeared through a
side-door. Meanwhile, the Professor, leading Lily by the hand, came
forward and addressed the audience as follows:-
"The second part of my entertainment, ladies and gentlemen, will exemplify
some of the remarkable effects of the mesmeric influence. The first of these
is what is known as 'Clairvoyance,' or 'Second-sight.' It is found that certain
specially sensitive persons, when placed under the mesmeric influence,
develop a new and mysterious sense, enabling them to see and describe
objects hidden from their physical vision. This young lady is one of those
gifted persons, and I shall proceed to illustrate her powers. She will take her
seat upon this chair, facing the audience. I shall ask some gentleman to be
kind enough to come forward and blindfold her as completely and securely
as he can, so as to satisfy you all that she cannot possibly make any use of
the natural sight. I shall then by a few mesmeric passes throw her into the
magnetic sleep. In that condition, though insensible to any voice but my
own, she will instantly know what I say to her, and will name and describe
any article I hold up, as fully and minutely as if she enjoyed the full use of
her eyes. The most out-of-the-way article will be described as readily as the
most simple, and you are specially invited to bring with you on any future
visit curious and little-known articles, in order the better to test the
Clairvoyante's powers. Will some gentleman come forward and blindfold
her?"
A volunteer was soon found. A handkerchief was tied tightly over Lily's
eyes, in such a manner that any use of the ordinary sight was clearly
impossible. The Professor, then standing before her and looking fixedly at
her, made a few pretended mesmeric passes, and, after a few moments, the
child's head fell back as if in sleep. A pencil-case was the first article
handed up to the Professor, who simply said, "Do you see this article,
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Lucilla? What is it?" After a moment's pause, the answer came, delivered in
a dreamy, unintelligent tone, like that of a person talking in her sleep, "A
pencil-case." "And the letter on the top, what is it?" "B," was the answer,
which proved to be correct. A number of articles were then handed up in
rapid succession, including watches, rings, postage-stamps, coins, scarfpins,
purses, cigar-cases, keys, tooth-picks, railway-tickets, penknives and
knick-knacks innumerable, and were named without hesitation,
supplementary questions as to colour, design, or initial being answered with
equal ease. In two or three instances people had brought specially curious
or uncommon objects with them, in order to puzzle the Clairvoyante.
Among these were a scarf-pin with a death's-head in ivory, a domino, a
cribbage-peg, a whistmarker, a cigarette-making machine, and a little
magnifying glass, known, I believe, as a linen-prover, but all were
described without hesitation. The only failure was over a pair of Chinese
chopsticks, which were declared, not unnaturally, to be knitting-needles.
When a sufficient number of articles had been described the Professor
removed the bandage, showing the child apparently still sound asleep.
Then, taking her two hands, and blowing on her forehead, he said, in a
sharp tone, "Wake, Lucilla, wake!" The child shook her head and rubbed
her eyes in the most natural manner possible, looking about with a
half-dazed expression, as if endeavouring to remember where she was, the
whole being so perfectly acted that, but for my conversation of the morning,
I should have fully believed that she had really been in a mesmeric sleep,
and so, I am satisfied, did the majority of those present. Even when her
father led her forward to receive the plaudits of the audience she still
seemed to be half asleep, and accepted the applause with a shy look, as if
hardly knowing what it was all about, or what she had done to deserve it.
Lily having retired, the Professor resumed:-"You have just seen, ladies and
gentlemen, one effect of the mesmeric influence. I now propose to show
you another, of a still more extraordinary, character. It is found that, by
some mysterious operation of the mesmeric force, bodies submitted to its
influence for the time being lose their gravity, and will even float in air
without mechanical support. I shall first show you the effect of this
principle upon inanimate bodies, and then give you a still more startling
illustration of its power, in the person of a living being. Here, as you
perceive, I have a thin wooden wand. It looks like polished ebony, but
ebony would be too heavy for my purpose. It is in reality of pine, stained
and varnished. Take it in your own hands, sir, and satisfy yourself that it is
devoid of mechanism or preparation. It will bear the closest examination.
"Now, observe; this rod, in its ordinary condition, is just like any other
piece of wood. It is not very heavy, but if I cease to hold it, for however
short a time, it falls, as you see." (In the act of picking it up I observed that
the Professor took the little clip 'from his pocket, but the act was so deftly
done as to be quite imperceptible save to anyone actually watching for it.)
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"I will now make two or three mesmeric passes over it, so as to charge it
with the magnetic fluid. Observe the difference. It hangs to the tips of my
fingers in any position I please. You can see for yourselves that I am not
holding it in any way, and still it remains suspended.
"Now for another illustration. Here is a wooden ball, with a hole bored in it
and a string running through the hole. You perceive that the string runs
through very freely indeed. I will hold the string upright, placing my foot
upon its lower end to keep it steady. However often I raise the ball it falls
again, dragged down by its own weight. But I make a few mesmeric passes
over it, as I did over the rod, and now, if I raise it, it remains suspended at
any given point, the force of gravitation being overcome by the greater
power of the mesmeric fluid."
The Professor raised the ball to various points on the string, where it
remained stationary. After his exposition of the morning I had no difficulty
in understanding this phenomenon, but I was curious to know how he
would manage to exchange the ball in hand for the one with the "rising"
mechanism. I knew that this latter was placed on the servante of one of the
smaller tables, but I could not imagine how he would contrive, under the
very eyes of the audience, to exchange, or, in conjuring phrase, to "ring" the
one for the other. For a little while I was half inclined to think that he was
going to omit this portion of the trick altogether, for, having shown once or
twice that the ball would stop at a given height, he laid it down on the small
table and took up the wand again. "The effect does not last very long," he
said. (Here the ball chanced to roll off the table on to the floor, and he had
to pick it up and replace it.) "This rod was strongly magnetised just now,
but it has now lost all its magnetism and is again an ordinary piece of wood.
If I cease to hold it up it falls, as you see. The ball "-(he took it into his hand
again)-"being more solid retains its magnetism longer. Sometimes, when
the conditions are exceptionally favourable, I can even mesmerise it so
strongly as to make it not merely rest suspended, but absolutely float
upwards at the word of command. I do not know whether I shall succeed in
doing so to-night, but I will try."
Accordingly he made a few more passes in the direction of the ball, which
presently, to the astonishment of the audience, began to move slowly
upwards. The Professor then had changed the ball, but if so, when? I stared
in bewilderment. I had been watching him the whole time, with all the
vigilance of which I was capable, looking out for this particular movement;
and he had made it and I had not seen it! I never felt so beaten in my life.
That so expert a prestidigitateur as the Professor should have exchanged a
coin or a card under my eyes without my perceiving it I could believe
readily enough, but that he should have done so with a ball nearly as big as
my own head passed my comprehension. At last a ray of light struck me;
and I hardly knew which most to marvel at: the Professor's address, or my
own density. The "accidental" fall of the ball was, as I ought to have
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suspected, no accident at all, but a cunningly calculated incident, to enable
the Professor in picking it up again to substitute the ball concealed on the
servante. The Professor had picked up the ball from the floor with his left
hand, and as it reached the level of the table (which masked the change),
had apparently transferred it to his right, but in reality had taken the second
ball from the servante with his right, and left that just picked up in its place.
The fact that the rod, and not the ball, was apparently in use at the moment,
diverted all suspicion from the change.
Having exhibited the upward movement of the ball, the performer
continued:-"I have shown you these little effects, ladies and gentlemen,
merely by way of introduction to the greater marvel I am now about to
exhibit to you; namely, the suspension of a living person in the same
manner. When I say the same manner, I of course except the use of the
string, which if applied in the same way would be productive of
considerable discomfort to the subject of the experiment. I am assisted in
this part of my entertainment by a young lady known as the ' Fairy
Violante,' whom I will now introduce." Here he stepped to the side, and
returned, leading a Vision of whom I will only say that she looked even
more bewitching than the Columbine of my never-to-be-forgotten
Pantomime. I had mentally to take myself by the collar and shake myself,
before I could force myself to believe that that airy being with the short
skirts, the brilliant complexion, and the long, fair hair, was the same person
as the sober-looking Madame Linda, who had been seated all the evening at
the piano, and whom as Mrs. Vosper I had seen partaking, only the night
before, of the prosaic tripe and the plebeian onion at her own fireside. I
could trace in this, her rejuvenated aspect, a marked likeness to Lily, but
few, I am sure, guessed that in that radiant being, of seventeen or
thereabouts, they saw the homely, domesticated wife of the middle-aged
Professor, and the mother of the child who had just puzzled them by her
supposed clairvoyant faculty.
Having saluted the audience, the "Fairy Violante" lightly tripped on to a
small stool, about fifteen inches in height, placed in the centre of the
platform. The Professor, taking a couple of poles or rods, about an inch and
a half in diameter, placed one under each of her arms, which they supported
in a horizontal position. One of these, as I knew from my observations of
the morning, was of iron, and fitted into a socket on the platform, while its
upper end received a bolt which placed it in connection with the framework
round the body of the female performer, but so deftly, and with so little
effort was each dropped into position, that the most watchful spectator
could detect nothing to indicate that the upright in question was anything
more than an ordinary wooden pole. Vosper next began to make the
supposed mesmeric passes, and presently the head of the Fairy Violante
drooped on her shoulder. Her eyes closed, and it became evident that the
Fairy Violante was asleep. After a few more passes, to deepen her trance,
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the Professor removed the stool from beneath her feet. The figure remained
motionless, suspended between the two uprights. A few more passes, and
the Professor removed the left-hand upright. The lady remained-in defiance
of all known laws of gravity-supported in air by a single upright standing
beneath her extended arm. The Professor gently bent the arm upward, and
turned the hand so as to form a support for the head. Renewing the passes,
he placed his hand beneath the body and lifted it to an angle of 45 degrees,
at which it remained. A few more passes, and a few observations to the
audience as to the weight of the body decreasing in proportion as the
mesmeric influence increased, and again placing his hands beneath the
figure, he raised it to a horizontal position, and crossed one foot over the
other, in which position the lady remained, still supported by the single
upright, as if sleeping in mid-air. After a few moments of this position he
again lowered the body gently back again to the perpendicular. He now
began to drape the still motionless figure in various costumes, with flags
and other accessories, adding appropriate head-gear, and posing the head
and arms to correspond, so as to make it represent in quick succession
Britannia, France, America, Little Red RidingHood, The Maid of Athens, a
Colleen Bawn, and many other characters. Finally, replacing the second
upright under the left arm and the stool beneath the feet, he began the
reverse or demesmerising passes, under the influence of which the Fairy in
due time came back once more to consciousness, kissed her hand to the
audience, and retired amid a final salvo of hearty applause.
"Well," said the Professor, as we walked home together after the
performance, "how d'ye like your new trade, so far? And what do you think
of the show? Not bad, is it?"
"Bad! It is charming. And the more I know of the art the better I shall like
it, I'm quite certain."
"Don't be too cocksure, my dear boy. It isn't all play, as I told you once
before. Remember you're a 'new broom' just at present."
"I admit it, but I hope to be an old broom in time, and when I am worn
down to the stump I am convinced I shall still be fond of conjuring."
"I fancy you're fairly bitten," said the Professor. "It's a queer thing, the
fascination conjuring has for those who really have the gift for it, or even
the fancy without the gift, for the matter of that. It's like drink or gambling
in that particular, though fortunately it doesn't play the dickens with your
constitution to the same extent. When you've once begun you feel as if you
must go on, and you run after a new bit of good business like a child after a
new toy. Why! tired as I am, at this moment, I'd walk a couple of miles to
see a good new trick."
"A couple of miles! I would walk five with pleasure. But talking of good
tricks, there are two of yours that beat me completely."
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"I am extremely glad to hear it. Tell me what they were, and I shall be
happy to relieve your perplexity."
"These were both incidents of the 'money-catching' trick. The one was that
you repeatedly showed your hand empty, and yet you immediately
proceeded to catch a coin."
"Because, by dint of considerable practice, I am able to pass a coin between
the fingers to the back of the hand, and bring it back at pleasure. I will teach
you the dodge one of these days. What was the other matter that puzzled
you?"
"The extraordinary way in which you managed to show a coin half in and
half out of the hat. How on earth was that done?"
"With this." He took from his waistcoat-pocket a semicircular piece of
metal, being, in fact, one-half of a half-crown with a needle point,
half-an-inch long, projecting from its cut edge. "That's the little fake, sir. I
just stick that point into the hat, and the coin looks like a whole coin, half in
and half out."
"But then, how did you manage to squeeze it right into the hat. You
certainly did. You just gave it a rub and in it went."
"Did I? If you were one of the outside public I should say 'Of course I did.'
But you ought to know better. I simply made believe to give it a rub,
bringing it away between my first and second fingers, and invited
everybody to observe that it had gone through."
"I'm afraid conjuring involves the telling of a good
many-tarradiddles-doesn't it? Don't you find them lie heavy on your
conscience, sometimes?"
"Not a bit of it. Why should I? It's simply part of the show. What is
conjuring, when you come to think of it, but simply one big tarradiddle-a
fib in action, so to speak, from beginning to end?"
"Well, it does seem pretty much that way."
"'Seems, madam, nay, it is,' as old Gimp would say. Off the platform I
believe I'm a fairly truthful person, but on it I consider that the public have
paid their money on purpose to hear and see what you elegantly describe as
tarradiddles; and, like an honest man, I endeavour to give them full value
for their coin. Every fool knows that a conjurer's assertions are only to be
taken in a Pickwickian sense. Fibs are a part of his professional
stock-in-trade, just as baggy trousers are of a clown's, or burnt cork of a
nigger minstrel's, and it would be about as reasonable to object to the one as
the other. There's one thing the public can always do, if they don't approve
of being humbugged."
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"And what may that be?" I inquired.
"Stop at home," said the Professor.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XV.
Professor Ledoyen--Card-Conjuring Extraordinary--Appealing to the
"Spirits"--A Transformation Trick--A Dazzling Promise.
W
E HAD not long been seated at supper on the evening referred to in my
last chapter, when a very light knock was heard at the streetdoor, and
presently the small maid-servant put her head into the room, and said
"Please, sir, the foreign gentleman, sir!"
"Oh, Monsieur Ledoyen?" said the Professor. "Ask him to walk in,
Wilhelmina."--It is a curious but well-ascertained fact that in London
lodging-houses, the smaller and grubbier the domestic, the more
high-sounding is generally her name.
There were sounds of a person wiping his feet with special care, as if they
were extremely valuable, on the door-mat; a fragrance as of a
day-before-yesterday cigar, and then was seen in the doorway a remarkable
apparition. It was a tall, gaunt figure, clad in a long brown coat. In his left
hand the visitor held a soft felt hat, and in his right a small and rather
shabby black bag, while his head was bent in profound salutation. I felt that
the stranger was a conjurer. Hatchet-faced, lantern-jawed, cadaverous, with
sparse grey hair, extremely straight, hanging down almost to the collar of
his coat, he was the very ideal of a wizard. His face was perfectly clean
shaven, showing the working of a thin-lipped but singularly flexible mouth.
His nose was long, his eyes half closed, and scarcely relieved by a vestige
of eyebrow, but very keen and intelligent, and ever and anon lighted up by a
Mephistophelic twinkle.
Such was the figure that, with hand, or, rather, black bag on heart, stood in
the parlour doorway, and, with a strong foreign accent, though of what
precise nationality I could not for the moment determine, said, "Is it permit
to enter? To ze noble Professor Vosper, and ze gracious lady Vosper, and
all ze honourable company, I make my humble salutation. But I fear me
that I derange you."
"Come in, Monsieur Ledoyen," said Mrs. Vosper, heartily. "We can always
make room for you."
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"It is not zat I demand so much of place," said M. Ledoyen, protruding a
gaunt wrist and arm from his brown coat-sleeve. "I am not much fat.
Hallo!"-to Tip, who was executing a volley of complimentary
fireworks.-"What have you, my leetle dog? What for you make
row-row-row?"
"Be quiet, Tip! you very naughty dog," said Lily. "You must not mind Tip,
Monsieur Ledoyen; all that noise only means that he is pleased to see you."
"Aha! the gracieuse little Meess," said Monsieur Ledoyen, "I kiss your
hand," which he did accordingly. "And Madame Carrick, aussi; and ze
honourable gentleman."
The honourable gentleman was myself. He did not kiss my hand (to my
great relief), but made me a low bow.
"This is my new assistant, Mr. Hazard, Ledoyen," said Vosper. "I fancy he
will make a conjurer."
"Aha!" said Monsieur Ledoyen, with another bow. "And you will be
prestidigitateur? Sir, I make you my compliment."
"Your must show him after supper what you can do with the cards,
Ledoyen. You must know, Hazard, that Monsieur Ledoyen here is probably
the most skilful card-conjurer living."
The old gentleman did not disclaim the compliment. "You like trick with
card?" he said, grasping my hand with emotion, "I show you such trick as
you have never see of your life." (Here Mrs. Vosper handed him a plate of
cold beef.) "I thank you, madame, ten tousand time of your kindness." Then
again to me: "You vill know trick? I show you trick," ('trick' he pronounced
"treeck," and "show" as if it rhymed to "cow,") "so etonnant, so magnifique,
zey pozzle ze sen-ses. De company break de head, bot zey no find dem
out."
The suggestion of breaking the heads of the company rather alarmed me for
the moment, but I fortunately remembered that in French-which I inferred
to be Monsieur Ledoyen's native tongue-se casser la tete signifies merely to
puzzle one's self over a thing. The speaker, with his mouth full, continued:-
"What for shall a prestidigitateur use mecanique? Voila! Here is enof of
mecanique!" He spread his long thin fingers, like eagles' talons, and then
tapped himself upon the forehead. "What for they want mecanique? Yokels!
Bah!"
The expression of scorn and contempt upon Monsieur Ledoyen's face as he
thus disposed of the mechanical school of conjuring, was a study. I
hastened to assure him that I had no partiality for mecanique. My assurance
seemed to relieve him, and he went on with his supper with comparative
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calmness. His politeness was phenomenal. He would not even take a
draught of porter, without drinking to one or other of the ladies, or
sometimes, by way of variation, to all three together.
No sooner was the cloth cleared than he swooped upon his little black bag,
and produced therefrom a piquet pack of cards, neatly done up in
whitey-brown paper. He tore off the wrapper with a flourish and began to
shuffle, then, holding the pack in his left hand, at arms length, face
downwards, and without even glancing in that direction, he said, indicating
the top card:-
"I ask ze honourable company be so kind as tell me vat card is this?
Madame, you tell me? No! Ze leetle Meess? No! Ze leetle dog? No!" Tip,
finding himself appealed to, responded with a bark. "Ze leetle dog, he say,
'wow-wow,' but I do not know any card which call himself wow-wow. You
cannot tell what he is? zen I find out for myself. He is not black card-he is
red card-he is not heart, he is carreau-what you call diamond, knave of
diamond." He took off the card and showed that he was correct, and then
transferred the card to the bottom of the pack. "Ze next card! Vat is dis?
You do not know? I know! He is eight of clobs; see! Vat is dis? Ze queen of
hearts. I shoffle ze cards once more-no mecanique! You can noting
break-noting destroy. Ze mecanique it is here-" and he tapped his forehead
with his bony forefinger. "How many card shall I throw?" "Five," I said, at
a venture, though scarcely knowing what he meant. He threw five cards,
face downwards, on the table, and named the sixth. "You say five card, and
I have throw five card. How many point in dose five card? You do not
know? I tell you. Dere are twenty-tree point" (which, counting two pips (the
actual number), for each court card, proved to be the case). Again he
shuffled and held out the pack to me. "You take so many card as you like."
I took a portion of the cards haphazard. "You know how many cards you
have take? No! You do not know? I tell you. You have take ten card. How
many point? You cannot tell? You have for-r-ty-nine point." Both
assertions were verified, and proved to be correct. "You take some more.
You have take seven card-thirty-one point." Again he shuffled. "What card
you want to know? Tree-four-seven-ten?-Vat you please." I asked for the
name of the thirteenth card down. It was given without a moment's
hesitation, and other cards in like manner. I was permitted to cut the pack
where I pleased, and instantly Monsieur Ledoyen would name the top or
bottom card. Finally, he handed me the pack, and asked me to shuffle,
which I did freely. He then placed his left hand behind him to receive the
cards, and turning his back to us, with his thumb pushed forward the top
card, so that we, the spectators, could see what it was. He then appealed to
us to tell him what it was. "Ze gracious lady-tell me, of your kindness, vat
is ze card. But the "gracious lady," who knew that the request was only part
of the mise en scene, declined to assist him, and declared he must find out
for himself. "Ze leetle Meess, I pray you, tell me ze card." Lily shook her
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head, "No, Monsieur Ledoyen, you must walk about and find it out." The
old man simulated a comical perplexity. "No one will me help. I cannot
know ze card. Ze yong gentleman, ze leetle dog, he will not tell me ze card.
Eh bien, I ask les esprits, ze spirit." He walked to the door and gravely
tapped the panel three times with his bony knuckle, waiting with every
appearance of genuine expectation for the answer. Tip, meanwhile, entered
an emphatic protest against the uncanny nature of the proceedings. There
was no audible reply on the part of the spirits, but it is to be presumed that
they, somehow or other, communicated the necessary information to the
performer, for he presently announced -"Ze Spirit say he is not red card, he
is black card. He is spade, he is ace of spade-" which was correct. He
named a number of cards in succession in like manner, allowing us to
shuffle the pack at pleasure, and each time walking about the room, tapping
solemnly three times, keeping the pack behind him, and waiting the
supposed prompting of the spirits before he gave the answer. There was
something so weird, or unlike every-day conjuring about the whole
performance, that I seriously began to wonder, for the moment, whether the
old Frenchman was merely an unusually skilful performer, or whether he
really possessed some special power of divination, or some private
understanding with the powers of darkness, to enable him to produce such
apparently inexplicable effects. Meanwhile, he had commenced another
feat, with the remark, "Now I make pretty picture for ze young lady." I had
not observed any change of the pack, but he forthwith began to produce a
series of startling transformations. Taking the four eights, he transmuted
them, by the mere substitution of one card for another, into four queens.
Four kings were transformed into four golden suns, on a black ground. Four
sevens into dancing-girls. Four tens into baskets of flowers. Seeing me
watching him with special vigilance he put the four cards he had last used
into my hand. I examined them with the greatest possible minuteness,
thinking to find some special secret in their construction, but they were
quite ordinary cards.
Next followed a series of sleight-of-hand tricks, all of the most bewildering
character. The long, thin fingers seemed hardly to touch the pack, and yet a
given card, or cards, travelled from top to bottom, and from bottom to
middle of the pack; appeared at any desired number, vanished, and
reappeared at Monsieur Ledoyen's pleasure, without the employment-so far
as I could see-of any of the ordinary expedients adopted by conjurers in
such cases. He laid the four aces on the table and gave them into my own
keeping. I saw that they were the four aces, and kept the whole weight of
my hand upon them, and yet, at Monsieur Ledoyen's command the four
aces somehow made their way back to the pack, and I was left with four
totally different cards. I have heard it said of an unusually skilful American
thief that he was clever enough to steal a man's back-teeth without his
knowing it. This I had hitherto considered to be merely a specimen of
Yankee hyperbole, but, compared to M. Ledoyen's performance, I should
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regard it as almost a second-rate feat of dexterity.
When the extempore performance was over, and Monsieur Ledoyen had
settled down to a glass of whiskey-and-water and a cigar, he said,
addressing me:-"And you; you make card-trick?" I assured him with great
truth that my accomplishments in that line were extremely limited. "No
matter-r-r," he said, "show me vat you do. Show me how you make pass." I
executed the movement in question, which is the backbone of all
card-conjuring, but my performance did not give him satisfaction. If he had
suddenly swallowed a large mouthful of unripe gooseberries his
countenance could hardly have expressed more disgust. "Ah-h-h!" he
exclaimed, gnashing his teeth, and snatching the cards out of my hand, "Vat
for you make like that? You break my hear-r-t!" and really, for the moment,
I feared I had done the poor man some serious injury. "You must not do
like dis;-You do like dis!" He himself executed the same sleight for my
instruction, but I did not gain much by it, for so light and delicate was the
movement, that it was practically invisible, and I had to take quite on trust
that it had been made at all. Professor Vosper laughed, "You'll have to do it
a little slower than that, Ledoyen, if you mean Hazard to profit by your
lesson." The old Frenchman accordingly repeated the same movement very
slowly, and I was able to see wherein my own execution had been faulty.
"You must not do like dat!" he continued-the expression of disgust only
fading by slow degrees from his face. "You go away from London soon-is it
not? When you come back, some day, I teach you trick myself."
Imagine the feelings of a young musical aspirant, if Rubenstein were to
offer to give him a few lessons, and you will have a feeble idea of the
delight excited in me by this dazzling offer. When Monsieur Ledoyen took
his departure, as he did soon afterwards, I eagerly turned to Professor
Vosper.
"Who is he? Surely he is a most remarkable man. How is it that he does not
make his fortune?"
The Professor laughed. "Fortunes are not made so easily, my dear fellow,
and poor old Ledoyen is scarcely the man to make one. You are quite right
as to his being unusually clever in his own line. In card-tricks I know no
one to touch him, but an entertainment consisting entirely of card-tricks
would be something like making your supper off Worcester-sauce or
pickles. The human stomach wouldn't stand it. And in other forms of
conjuring he is nowhere."
"But his card-tricks seem to go beyond ordinary conjuring altogether. I
suppose they really are conjuring, by the way? I notice that he talks about
spiritisme, and so on."
The Professor laughed. "You don't mean to say you really thought it
possible that he was aided by spirits? That is part of his 'patter.'"
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"Never mind, Mr. Hazard," said Mrs. Vosper, good-naturedly. "Ledoyen's
performance is really something out of the common. I remember thinking
pretty much the same thing myself when first I saw him give a show, but of
course I know better now."
"I like Monsieur Ledoyen," interposed Lily; "he looks so funny, walking
about the room and tapping the shutters with his great bony knuckles."
"His manner is a good half of the trick," said Mrs. Carrick. "I really believe
he tries to look like the 'old gentleman.'"
"I believe he does, Duchess, and very good business, too. I'd give a hundred
pounds to have Ledoyen's face and manner."
"If you had, you wouldn't have me," said Mrs. Vosper, "for I should be
frightened to live with you. So you'd soon wish your old face back again."
"Don't make too sure about that, old lady," said the Professor: "I've stood a
lot from you in my time, but even worms will turn, if trodden on long
enough and hard enough. You're getting rather heavy, mind you, and if you
did run away, I don't know that this worm would come after you!"
"What, not after the Fairy Violante!" I said.
"Ah, there you have me! No, I don't think I could make up my mind to lose
the Fairy Violante. The husband might be adamant, but the artist would
have to surrender at discretion. I could not part with my Violante, even for
the sake of Ledoyen's deliciously diabolical physiognomy."
"What countryman is he?" I asked. "A Frenchman, I suppose."
"I cannot say with certainty. French is the language he speaks for
preference, but he will answer you in pretty nearly any European tongue. I
don't fancy he would take a first-class certificate in any of them, but still he
can speak them after a fashion, which is more than most people can do. He
is very clever with his fingers, too, apart from sleight-of-hand. He will
prepare a mechanical card with extraordinary perfection. In faking up a
pack of cards for any special trick, I know nobody to touch him."
"But if, as you say, his divination feats are mere tricks after all, how on
earth are they managed?"
"Ah, that is his secret. He has promised to give you a few lessons, and if
you get the right side of him perhaps you may induce him to let you into the
mystery. For present purposes I can only tell you that it is the effect of a
combination of marked cards, special arrangement of the pack on a
mathematical principle, an extraordinary mastery of sleight-of-hand, a
splendid memory, unfailing nerve, and a ready faculty for mental
arithmetic. Add to these his wonderful manner, and you have the elements
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of Ledoyen's artificial 'spiritisme,' as he calls it. He taught me the system
some years back, but I have never made any practical use of it."
"And do you ever intend to do so?"
"Possibly, when I have a few years' leisure for working it up thoroughly. At
present I intend to go to bed, and I should recommend the present company
to do so likewise."
And we went to bed accordingly.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XVI.
The Sober Side of Conjuring.-A Magician at Rehearsal-Exhausted
Energies.-A Dangerous Remedy.--A Remarkable Hat.-An Enthusiastic
Amateur.-Lessons in Magic.-A New Occupation.
A
WEEK had passed, and I had fairly settled down in my new occupation.
If I had needed the Professor's warning that conjuring was a serious and
hard-working occupation, even this short experience would have fully
convinced me of the fact. Vosper himself, though an expert in his art, rarely
let a day pass without devoting an hour or two to the practice of various
sleight-of-hand movements, simply to maintain his dexterity. I have seen
him by the hour together practise the sleight, which had so puzzled me in
the 'money-catching' trick, of passing a coin between his fingers to the back
of his hand, and then into the palm again. By dint of long practice he could
make the movement so rapidly that he appeared simply to show back and
palm perfectly empty, the coin travelling so fast from the one to the other as
to be practically invisible. Sometimes he would roll up a handkerchief into
a ball, "palm" and reproduce it, repeating this same movement many
hundreds of times in succession. At other times he would take a pack of
well-thumbed cards and practise for hours what is known as the "pass,"
(i.e., transposing the top and bottom halves of the pack), sometimes with
one hand, sometimes with both, his watch lying the while on the table
beside him, to enable him to time the rapidity of his performance.
Sometimes, again, the subject of his manipulations would be a glass or
wooden ball, which was made to disappear and re-appear in the most
bewildering manner. To the members of his family these proceedings were
a matter of course; but to any one not in the secret, the spectacle of a
middle-aged and rather stout gentleman standing before a looking-glass
with his coat off, gravely rolling up small pocket-handkerchiefs into little
balls, or swallowing eggs, shell and all, and reproducing them from the
back of his head, the heels of his boots, and other parts of his person, would
probably have suggested uncomfortable doubts of his sanity, and the
propriety of locking up his razors. I dare say any one coming unexpectedly
on Mr. Irving privately working up points for, say, "The Bells," would
leave the room in some trepidation. Even "Box and Cox" rehearsed
single-handed must have rather an uncanny effect, but either of these must
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yield the palm in eccentricity to a conjurer practising his business. In the
case of a new trick, the rehearsals were still more comprehensive. The
Professor worked with his head as well as his hands, labouring to produce
the ne plus ultra of magical effect, and I have known him toil far into the
night at this occupation. I myself did my best, in a humble way, to follow
his example, and under so able an instructor soon found myself making
rapid progress.
This, however, was only a small portion of my daily work. The hall had to
be kept clean, and I had to take my part in this duty, with Gimp and Mrs.
Carrick. The whole of the stage preparations were also now placed in my
hands. I was proud of the confidence reposed in me, and made it a point of
honour to deserve it; but I began to understand that the perpetual doing of
the same little things night after night might in the long run become
somewhat wearisome. The greatest drawback, however, to the delights of
conjuring was one which must weigh heavily on all whose business it is to
entertain the public, namely, that when the time comes, whatever the mood
of the performer, whether he be suffering from headache or heartache, or
any of the thousand "ills that flesh is heir to," the task has still to be done.
The "quips, and cranks, and wreathed smiles" must be forthcoming, even
though they be drawn from the heart's blood of the performer. I have known
Professor Vosper on more than one occasion rise from a sick bed to go
through his nightly task, and still more frequently I know that he was
suffering acute pain from rheumatism or neuralgia, but the audience were
never allowed to suspect the fact. Conjuring at best is extremely hard work,
demanding not only the closest vigilance and presence of mind on the part
of the performer, but a full and steady flow of animal spirits, a failure in
this particular telling instantly upon the morale of the spectators. Vosper
was not a strong man, and the heavy demands of his profession left him
often terribly weak and exhausted. This exhaustion he was apt to remedy by
recourse to stimulants, never to the point of intoxication, but far enough to
give a point to the earnest protest against spirituous liquors, which I had
heard from Mrs. Vosper on the first evening of my arrival.
The remainder of our season at the hall was not very eventful, but it was the
occasion of my making the acquaintance of two rather original characters.
One evening after the Professor had been performing the well-known trick
of the "inexhaustible hat," in which a number of useful and ornamental
objects are produced from a borrowed head-piece, a heavy
countrified-looking fellow, whose hat chanced to have been used for the
purpose, waited after the performance was over, and asked to see the
Professor. As Vosper at the moment was washing his bands, he told me to
ascertain what the visitor wanted.
"What do you desire, Sir?" I asked him, in my best manner.
"I ha' come about this yere hat, that all them things come out of. I ha' had
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this hat a matter o' two year, and I never found none o' them things that
there chap brought out to-night."
"No, I don't suppose you did."
"I s'pose," (cunningly) "ye mun bide ezackly the right time, till all they
things is ready like?"
"What do you mean? Do you really think the things came there of their own
accord?"
"Ecod, I reckon they com'd somehow or other. And seeing as how it was
my hat they come out of, I reckon they belongs to me. So I ha' come for
'em."
"But don't you understand, Sir, that those things were all put in by the
Professor, before he could produce them."
"Eh, noa, noa, that's a good un'. Him put 'em in! Why I was a watching 'im
the whoal time. But I don't want to be hard on 'ee. Cry halves, and we'll say
no moor about it."
"Pardon me, I cannot do anything of the kind. The articles belong to the
Professor, and are used every night."
"And ye woan't cry halves?" said the rustic, looking very chapfallen. "Eh,
then," (his face brightened as a happy thought struck him), "gi' me a pound,
and I'll sell ye the hat."
-=ooOO00OOoo=-
The other individual was a person of a different stamp. He was a young
man of gentlemanly, but scarcely intellectual appearance, with fair hair
parted in the middle, and a scanty moustache of a delicate ginger colour,
which he every now and then fingered nervously, as if apprehensive that
something might have happened to it since his last examination. He wore a
horseshoe scarf-pin set with diamonds, a very high shirt collar, and a double
eye-glass, which was constantly falling down, and which divided his
attention with his moustache. His efforts to crane his neck far enough over
the collar to get sight of the missing eyeglass, were most amusing. I
remember thinking that were I in his place, I would either wear lower
collars, or a securer eye-glass.
He had visited the performance on several occasions, always sitting in the
front row of the reserved seats, and had attracted my attention, and to a
certain extent my respect, by invariably paying silver,-sometimes
threepence, sometimes sixpence-for his programme, and declining to accept
any change. He watched the tricks with extreme interest, but generally
managed to drop his eye-glass at the critical point. He filled up the intervals
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by sucking the knob of his walking-stick, and verifying the condition of his
moustache as before described.
Two or three times, as he passed me on his way out, he had opened his
mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it, and passed on without
doing so. I felt that he had something on his mind, and that it would be a
charity to help him to unburden it; so, on this happening for the third or
fourth time, I said, "I beg your pardon, Sir, you spoke, I think?" He looked
alarmed, and immediately dropped his eye-glass. "Oh no, I didn't say
anything," he replied with a slight lisp. I was determined to bring him to the
point. "But you were going to say something?" "Well, yes, I mean no-that
is, at-at least," here he dropped his eye-glass again, "I was only going to ask
whether Professor Vosper ever gave fellows lessons."
"Yes, he does so now and then," I replied.
"It comes expensive, I suppose?" It struck me that a gentleman with such a
scarf pin, and such a shirt collar would probably prefer something that did
come expensive, and I therefore answered cautiously. "Middling," I said;
"but I dare say you could arrange that point to your satisfaction. Would you
like to see the Professor?" "Ahem!-yes, no. I think,-I mean I don't think I'll
see him tonight. Sm' other evening, perhaps," and down went the eye-glass
again. I felt that the bird was shy, and if not captured on the spot, might
take flight and not return. "The Professor will be disengaged in a minute.
Shall I give him your card?" The suggestion to give his card appeared to
strike the young man as an expedient on which he might venture, and he
accepted the suggestion with alacrity. I took the card, on which was
inscribed "The Honourable J. Tilbury Topper, Parthenon Club," and carried
it to the Professor in his dressing-room.
"Topper," he said, "don't know the name. Who is he?" "The gentleman who
is always trying to swallow his walking-stick," I replied. "He wants to take
some lessons." The Professor nodded. "I might have guessed it," he said.
"It's a funny thing, the very chap who hasn't intellect enough to sweep out a
counting-house, or cut off a yard of ribbon, is just the one who fancies
himself cut out for a conjurer. Well, business is business, if he likes to
waste his money. Let's have a look at him." He came out of his
dressing-room, and advanced to Mr. Topper, who became perturbed in
spirit, and dropped his eye-glass immediately. The Professor bowed, and
waited for him to open the conversation. Mr. Topper bowed also, but
remained rigidly silent. "You were inquiring about lessons, I think," said
the Professor at last.
"Ya-as," said Mr., Topper, "I don't want to learn the whole bag of tricks,
you know, but just one or two little things to astonish the fellows at the
club. They're so jolly conceited, you know, and if a fellow don't happen to
be much of a hand at whist, or billiards, and that sort of thing, they fancy he
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can't do anything at all, which is ridiculous, you know."
"Very true," said the Professor. "What tricks in particular would you like to
learn?"
"Oh! some simple little thing, like that finding the money in the air, and
making the half-crowns fly away out of the box. I suppose it's easy enough
when you know how it's done."
"That depends, partly on natural capacity, and partly on the time you can
afford to give to it. It took me a good many months' practice to work that
trick to my own satisfaction, and the latter part of it, to be effective,
requires a stage."
The aspirant's countenance fell, likewise his eye-glass. "Then you don't
think I could learn it?"
"I don't say that, but I doubt whether it would be worth your While to try.
However, there are plenty of good tricks with cards and coins, and
handkerchiefs, which you might learn much more easily, and which would
equally serve to astonish your friends. For instance-will you oblige me with
your handkerchief? 'This is an ordinary handkerchief, I suppose? I will just
blow upon it, and it is no longer an ordinary handkerchief, for it cannot be
tied in a knot. Look!" The Professor rolled the handkerchief into a rope, and
then tied a knot, or rather began to tie a knot in it in the ordinary way, but
when he proceeded to pull it tight, the handkerchief was simply drawn out
straight, all signs of a knot having disappeared. The process was repeated
several times, but always with the same result.
"Bai Jove! that's awfully good," said the Honourable Tilbury Topper.
"Now, I will reverse the charm," said the Professor, taking one corner of the
handkerchief in each hand, and holding it extended. "By simply blowing on
the centre of the handkerchief, I make a knot appear on it." There was a
wave of movement along the handkerchief, and a large knot appeared on its
centre.
"Bai Jove!" said the Honourable, dropping his eye-glass once more, "that's
awfully jolly; that would astonish the fellows no end. But I suppose it is
awfully difficult."
"Look," said the Professor, "it's all in the way in which I hold the
handkerchief. You see the right-hand end passes outwards between the first
and second fingers, and the left-hand end inwards. You just bring your
hands together, so, and with the right finger and thumb catch hold of the
left-hand end, and with the left finger and thumb of the right-hand end; then
pull, and your knot is made."
"But you didn't bring your hands together like that just now."
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"Didn't I? I did though. The quickness of the hand deceives the eye, you
know. That's how it's done, Sir!"
"Bai Jove! I must learn that, if it isn't too awfully expensive. What are, what
is-I mean how much do you teach a trick like that for?"
"My terms are half-a-guinea a lesson," said Vosper. "Of course you can
take as many, or as few as you like. How much you learn in the time will
depend on yourself."
"Bai Jove! I'll begin to-morrow," said the Honourable. "I'll come to you
directly after breakfast, say two o'clock, or half-past two."
And accordingly the next day the Honourable J. Tilbury Topper came and
took his first lesson. It is generally considered that the patriarch Job had
exhausted all possible trials of patience, but this is clearly an error,
inasmuch as he never tried to teach the Honourable Tilbury Topper
conjuring. I would not have believed, if I had not seen it with my own eyes,
that any one with a head on his shoulders could have been so densely
stupid, or that any one with the ordinary allowance of fingers and thumbs
could have been so phenomenally clumsy. He tried trick after trick, and
gave up each as too difficult, but still he was not discouraged. In the middle
of the lesson, he said,
"I say, Professah! I've an ideah! I fancy I could do bettah, you know, if I
was to smoke."
"By all means," said the Professor, "if you wish it."
Greatly delighted, Mr. Topper lighted a cigar, and handed another to the
Professor, and the remainder of the lessons were generally spent in this
manner;-Mr. Topper with a cigar in his mouth, gravely making the motion
of transferring a coin from his right hand to his left, and twice out of three
times dropping it in transit. Indeed the greater part of his earlier lessons was
spent on his hands and knees, groping under the table for missing
halfcrowns. If by any chance he did not let fall the coin, he was pretty sure
to drop either his cigar or the eye-glass. He appeared to consider, however,
that he was making very fair progress, and paid up his half-guineas with the
utmost cheerfulness, regarding himself as amply repaid if the Professor
would only "talk conjuring," and explain to him the secrets of some of the
best known stage tricks, which however he forgot after a day or two as
completely as if he had never known them. His only regret was that the
Professor's early departure from London would cut short the lessons, and he
discussed the feasibility of joining us at some convenient halting place, in
order to continue his prestidigitatural studies.
Meanwhile, the Professor was making me useful in a new capacity. It will
be remembered that he inquired, when engaging me, whether I had any
knowledge of French. His own knowledge in that direction was extremely
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limited. He did not hesitate when occasion required to give an
entertainment in that language, but he used to boast, and I believe with
justice, that it was the very worst French in the profession. His "patter" in
such cases was prepared for him beforehand, and committed to memory. So
far, he was on pretty safe ground, but when, as occasionally happened, he
was compelled to extemporise a sentence, his attempts were of the most
excruciating description. He had however got together a pretty good
collection of French conjuring books, and I was set to translate for him
portions of these, as he found that he now and then picked up a valuable
hint in this manner. To myself the task was a labour of love, for at that time
the greatest masterpiece in literature, the most thrilling story of adventure,
the most romantic tale of a lover and his lass would not have had for me
one tithe of the attraction I found in even a fifth-rate book on conjuring.
The work did me good moreover, apart from the knowledge I thus acquired
of conjuring matters. My intense devotion to my task, and desire to
understand the exact meaning of every sentence greatly increased my
familiarity with French, and for my own amusement I compiled the spoken
portion of an entertainment in that language, which afterwards proved very
useful to me.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XVII
Starting for a Country Tour--Brighton--Walks with Lily--The Professor's
Religious Opinions--A Visit to Oxford--A Liar Exposed--Reaction.
O
UR London season came to an end very shortly after I had joined the
Professor, and meanwhile my whereabouts had remained unsuspected by
my friends. Professor Vosper called my attention to an advertisement in the
"agony column" of the Times (addressed more particularly to hairdressers),
assuring R. H. that if he would return to his home, all would be forgiven. I
was very willing to be forgiven so far as my mother was concerned, but I
feared that Uncle Bumpus might insist on forgiving me also, and receiving
me into the detested drapery establishment. I therefore contented myself
with writing to my mother, assuring her that I was perfectly happy and
comfortable, but giving her no clue to my address or occupation, and in
order that the post-mark should not tell tales, I posted my letter at
Knightsbridge. This circumstance, I afterwards learnt, was used by Jemima
in support of her own theory that I had enlisted in the Life Guards, who
happened at that time to be quartered in Knightsbridge Barracks.
Our first halting place was Brighton, where we remained for some weeks.
Here we were joined, after a short interval, by the Honourable Tilbury
Topper, who at once recommenced his studies in prestidigitation, and
dropped his eye-glass and his halfcrowns as pertinaciously as ever. Our
entertainment was very well supported, and our sojourn altogether
extremely pleasant. My afternoons were at my own disposal, and I
generally spent them in a stroll with Lily and Tip, with both of whom I was,
by this time, fast friends; indeed Lily and myself were almost like brother
and sister. The precise position which Tip occupied in the trio I will not
attempt to decide; nominally he belonged to Lily; but practically it would
rather appear that both Lily and myself belonged to him. This was
unquestionably his own view of the matter. The manner in which he would
take the direction of our promenades, and calmly insist on going down
streets, and up hills, and into fields which we had not the smallest intention
of visiting, clearly indicated him as the leader of the party. If we did not
follow quite as quickly as he pleased, he would stand and look over his
shoulder in an impatient manner, tapping the ground with his foot, just as
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some testy old paterfamilias might have rapped with his stick under similar
circumstances. If he had whistled for us to hurry up I should hardly have
been surprised. He pursued bluebottles and butterflies with the energy of
the most ardent entomologist, and on one occasion chased a young rabbit,
and laid it with great pride at Lily's feet. Lily's tender heart was deeply
distressed at the thought that the poor little rabbit should have been hurt,
and on this occasion she asserted her supremacy. She scolded Tip so
severely for his conduct that the misguided animal was stricken with
remorse, and tucking his tail between his legs, went straight home to a
retired spot under the sofa, which was his accustomed refuge when in
disgrace. Fortunately the little rabbit was more frightened than hurt; Lily
carried it home and made a great pet of it, and it ultimately attained the
proud position of being magically produced from borrowed hats and other
eccentric hiding-places, in the course of the Professor's entertainments.
These long afternoon walks over the breezy Sussex downs gave me a new
insight into the character of my sweet little friend and sister. There are some
natures in which Religion seems to be a natural instinct, a plant divinely
sown, and Lily's was one of them.
I remember on one occasion asking her father what was his religious
persuasion, as he seemed to attend indifferently the services of high church
or low church, chapel or cathedral. His reply was characteristic. "My dear
boy, I'm what you may call a here-and-there-ian. I have a notion that people
make far too much fuss about small varieties of creed. Christ died for all of
us, not specially for high church or low church, protestant or catholic. I
believe if I am to get to Heaven it will be through Him, quite irrespective of
whether I say my Sunday prayers in a church or in a chapel. There's a
couple of lines I once read in some piece of poetry, I don't rightly remember
what it was, but it was about some poor girl who had gone wrong--
"Owning her weakness, her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness, her sins to her Saviour."
That's my religion." And I believe that he faithfully followed out his creed.
Mrs. Vosper's religious belief was not very far removed from her husband's.
"Religious?" she said, when the subject was alluded to one day. "No, I
suppose I'm not what you would call a religious woman. I haven't time to
do much in the church-going line, except on Sundays; but I try to do my
duty in a humble way, and I'm truly thankful to the good God who helps me
to do it, and gives me my daily bread." Add to this a brave, cheerful, helpful
spirit, unswerving truthfulness, and a charity which knew no bounds, and
you have Mrs. Vosper's religion as fully as the most elaborate confession of
faith could give it.
With parents of such broad views, it was hardly to be supposed that Lily's
mind would be much troubled with the niceties of creeds. She had been
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faithfully taught as to the Great Sacrifice which is the foundation of
Christianity, and round that great central fact had grown up, in the child's
mind, a sweet poetic faith. To her Christ was no mere historical personage,
who had lived and died far back in the past, but a present reality, a personal
friend, whose face she could picture, whose affection she could trust, and
love to whom, in a shy, tender way, was the guiding principle of her
innocent life. Her manual of devotion was a little much-worn book of
hymns. I was surprised to find how many of them she knew by heart
;-learnt, not as tasks, but for the genuine delight she took in them. An
instinctive taste, strange in one so young, seemed to have guided her to the
gems of the collection. Boys of seventeen are rarely enthusiastic admirers
of sacred song, and I was no exception to the rule, but some of the happiest
hours I have ever known were spent on the Sussex downs, sprawling in
what I fear was a very ungainly attitude at Lily's feet, while she repeated
some of her special favourites. The noble poetry of such masterpieces as
"Lead, kindly light," "Abide with me," and "Nearer to Thee," set to the
music of Lily's sweet childish voice, found somehow an answering chord in
my own nature, and awakened aspirations after good which have never
forsaken me. Even now the sound of a sheep-bell and the scent of a patch of
heather will bring back to me the tones of Lily's voice, and the words of
some favourite hymn. At such times I believe she often forgot my presence
altogether. With her chin resting on her hand (a favourite attitude with her),
she would sit with a far-away look in her clear blue eyes, thinking aloud, as
it seemed, one after another of her favourites, till the lengthening shadows
warned us that it was time to be moving homewards, and with a shake of
her long fair hair she would throw off her dreamy mood, and be again only
a light-hearted merry child.
From Brighton we passed to Hastings, and one or two other
watering-places, after which we visited two or three inland towns, coming
at last to Oxford, where the Professor had arranged to give a short series of
performances. I had long had a great desire to visit the noble old University
town, associated with so many historic memories, and through which so
much of the best blood of England has flowed, in some cases to highest
honour, in some to the martyr's doom. Nor was I disappointed. I cannot say
that I found any visible traces of Alfred or Canute, who are said to have
resided in the city, or of William the Conqueror, who took it by storm, but I
saw at least the spot where Wicliffe preached, and the cross in the roadway
in front of Balliol College, where the three martyrs of the Reformation
suffered death at the stake, and, in the words of brave old Latimer, lighted
the "candle which should never be put out." I trod with delight the fine old
High Street, a panorama of architectural beauties. I strolled round the
water-walk of Magdalen, and under the spreading elms of Christ Church. I
knelt with delight in the ancient college chapels, with their sweet-voiced
choristers, their stalls of carved oak, and their "storied panes," where the
robes of saint and apostle cast rich stains of purple and crimson on the
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sunlit pavement. I admired the sculptured effigies of Walter de Merton,
William of Wykeham, Nicholas and Dorothy Wadham, and the other dead
and gone "founders and benefactors" whose gifts, in the far-away past, have
made Oxford what it is to-day. I was especially delighted with the
ceremony of conferring degrees, and the comical rush of the Proctor up and
down the hall, to give any unpaid tradesman the opportunity of plucking at
his gown, and so recording his caveat against the granting of the degree to
his impecunious debtor. Altogether my stay in Oxford was a very delightful
experience, and one to be marked with the whitest of white stones.
The Professor's performances were a great success, though the
undergraduates made rather a turbulent audience. They were good-natured
enough, but quick to resent any fancied slight or disrespect on the part of an
entertainer; and when irritated, their wrath was apt to take rather a noisy
form, and occasionally to result in the storming of the platform and the rout
of the performer. At one of the Professor's performances an incident took
place which looked for a little while as if it were likely to take this
untoward turn. Shortly after the commencement of the performance a party
of eight or ten undergraduates came rather boisterously into the front seats.
They had evidently come from a "wine," or dessert-party following the
usual dinner in Hall, a frequent form of entertainment at Oxford. None of
them could fairly be called intoxicated, but they were what the College
servants call "pleasant," and ripe for a row. They forthwith began to annoy
their neighbours and the quieter portion of the audience by audibly
expressed remarks, ostentatious inattention, or ironical applause, shuffling
with their feet, and generally making themselves conspicuous. The
Professor bore the annoyance for some time, but, at last, seeing that a
couple of ladies, who had been seated near the offenders, and had been
growing visibly more and more nervous, finally left the hall, he could
contain himself no longer.
"Gentlemen," he said, looking straight at the offenders, "some of you, it
would appear, have come here to-night rather with the intention of
annoying others than of deriving amusement from the performance. It
would be a disrespect to the rest of my audience were I to tolerate that state
of things. I must ask gentlemen coming here to behave as gentlemen. If the
entertainment does not please them they are quite at liberty to retire, and
their money shall be returned to them."
The disturbers looked very savage, but the applause that arose from all parts
of the hall showed them that public sympathy was with the speaker, and
they did not make any open demonstration. It struck me, however, that they
were only biding their time, and would create trouble if they could find
opportunity. The Professor was about to perform the well-known stage feat
of catching a drawn card on the point of a sword. He came forward, cards in
hand, with the remark, "I shall now ask some gentleman to be good enough
to. take a card from this pack."
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One of the noisy party rather rudely reached across his immediate
neighbours, and said:-
"Here, I'm your man; let me have a draw."
The Professor complied. The young man drew a card, glanced at it as
secretly as possible, and replaced it in the pack. The card drawn, according
to the pre-arranged course of the trick, was the Knave of Diamonds. The
Professor returned to his platform, and said:
"I shall now have to ask the assistance of some other gentleman, to come on
the platform and throw the pack in the air, when I shall endeavour to catch
the chosen card upon the point of this sword."
A volunteer was soon found, the pack was shuffled, and the cards flung in
the air. The Professor made a lunge among them with his rapier, and a card
was seen impaled on its point. The Professor offered it to the drawer.
"Here is your card, sir, the Knave of Diamonds."
"That isn't my card," said the young man, with the utmost assurance, "the
card I drew was the Ten of Spades."
Vosper knew, and so did I, that he was telling a falsehood, but the audience
did not, and they naturally believed that the trick had failed. The Professor
was not at all the man to accept an undeserved defeat. He said:-
"Ladies and gentlemen, you shall be my judges. Allow me to assure you
that the card this gentlemen drew was the Knave of Diamonds, and none
other."
"You're a liar!" shouted his antagonist.
Instantly there was a scene of the greatest turmoil. There were cries of
"Shame!" and "Order!" Many stood up and began taking part in an excited
way, some with the Professor, some with his opponent. The general feeling
seemed to be with the performer, but there is a strong esprit de corps among
undergraduates, and many were inclined, not unnaturally, to think it more
likely that the Professor should have made a mistake than that a member of
their own body should wilfully mis-state a fact, for, of course, there was no
room for mistake on his side of the question. After a few moments of
tumult, however, the Professor holding up his hand managed to obtain
comparative silence.
"At present," he said "it is merely word against word, my honour against
that gentleman's" (with a strong ironical emphasis). "But I am ready to
furnish proof of my assertion. Here is the pack of cards from which he
drew," and he took the pack from his pocket, where he had placed it after
exchanging it for an ordinary pack. "It is what is known as a "forcing" pack,
and contains nothing but Knaves of Diamonds. You can therefore judge for
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yourselves whether any other card could have been drawn." This carried
complete conviction to the minds of the greater number present, but a
minority, reluctant to believe that a member of the university could have
wilfully lied, still maintained the theory of mistake, and that a Ten of
Spades must by some accident have become mixed up with the Knaves of
Diamonds. The hero of the incident and his party, feeling the weakness of
their case, endeavoured to carry it off by bluster, and abused the Professor
in no measured terms, as endeavouring to cover his own failure by an
unfounded imputation against a member of the "Varsity." Altogether the
row was tremendous, when a clear voice rising above the confusion
suddenly said:-
"Silence! for one moment, if you please."
All turned to look at the speaker, a grey-haired, quiet-looking gentleman,
whom I afterwards ascertained to be a very distinguished professor and
lecturer, second to none in the respect in which he was held in the
university. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "many of you know me, and I
think you will take my word. I chanced to be seated, as you see,
immediately behind the person who drew the card, and I can assure you,
without hesitation, that it was a Knave of Diamonds. To what college this
gentleman belongs I do not know, but I am profoundly thankful that he does
not belong to mine." .
There were cries of "Hear, hear!" "Liar!" "Cad!" "Shame!" mingled with
cheers for Professor Vosper, and for the worthy Don who had borne such
valuable testimony. These finally merged into a general cry of "Turn him
out!" "Out with him!"
A score of stalwart arms were immediately outstretched, and in less time
than it takes to tell it, the convicted liar was passed over the heads of the
company, and flung out upon the staircase like a beaten cur, carrying with
him the hearty contempt of all present.
The little sensation created by the occurrence soon subsided, and the
performance proceeded. The Professor surpassed himself, and the evening
was a magnificent success, but the excitement told severely upon him. He
reached his lodgings completely exhausted, and looking like the ghost of
himself. He could eat nothing, but made up for it by taking a double
allowance of whiskey-and-water, to the manifest distress of his wife; and
when he finally retired to bed his utterance was thick and indistinct, and his
gait unsteady. Mrs. Vosper tried to help him up the stairs, but her aid was
insufficient, and he hiccupped out: "Here, Dick, ole f'ler, give me a helpin'
hand." With Mrs. Vosper's assistance I got him up to his room, where he
stumbled into an armchair, and proclaimed his intention of stopping there
all night. His wife did not reproach him, but I shall never forget her white
face and grieved eyes as she wished me good-night, saying, with a voice
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full of heart-break, "Oh, Dick, pray God that no one you love may ever
become subject to the curse of drink!"
And I said with all my heart, "Amen!"
|
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
|
CHAPTER XVIII.
Crossing the Channel.-A Life on the Ocean Wave.- Gimp on Steamboat
Travelling.-A Visit to Ostend.-The Chevalier d'Arras.-Poor Fred
Howard.-A Tragical History.-Pointing a Moral.
O
UR visit to Oxford was followed by others of shorter duration--and
varying considerably in the amount of support obtained--to sundry other
provincial towns. On the whole, our success did not come up to the
Professor's expectations, and he finally decided to cross the Channel, and to
try his fortune on the Continent. Ostend was to be our first stopping-place,
followed by Bruges, Ghent, and Brussels, with an ultimate descent on Paris.
I had arranged the "patter," or libretto, for an entertainment in French, and
all our spare time was devoted to working it up. I cannot say it was a good
libretto-indeed, I am rather inclined to suspect, judging from the laughter
with which it was generally received by our foreign audiences, that it was,
at the outset, rather the reverse. If they had laughed at the right places it
would not have so much mattered, but, with provoking regularity, they
laughed at the serious parts, while my intended "jokes" appeared to pass
altogether unnoticed. This, however, with the aid of one or two
good-natured foreign friends, I soon rectified. Meanwhile, in any case, I
had the consolation of knowing that it was a good deal better than the
Professor could have done by his own unaided efforts, his French being
very much like the English of that eminent Portuguese pundit, Don Pedro
de Fonseca, the talented author of "English as She is Spoke." He was
perfectly sensible of his deficiency, but it did not disturb him in the least;
indeed, with an extra half-hour for preparation, I believe he would have
undertaken to perform before a tribe of Choctaw Indians, or a party of
long-tailed Chinese, in their native tongue. Before a French audience he
was quite at home, and "Madame, voolly voo oblijay mol de draw a card"
sounded from his lips almost like pure Parisian. A good deal, no doubt,
depended upon his pantomime, which was so good that nobody ever failed
to understand him.
At last the eventful day arrived, when, taking boat at London Bridge, we
started for Ostend. It was my first sea-trip, and I looked forward to it with
delighted anticipation, tempered by a faint streak of apprehension. For some
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hours-the river portion -the journey was delightful. I felt every inch a sailor,
and almost inclined to run away once more and join Peter in a life on the
ocean wave. I had even been singing, by request, a well known song to the
effect that I was Afloat and the Rover was Free, and the Professor and the
whole strength of the company joined in the chorus. All went well till we
had passed the Nore, when it suddenly struck me that the boat was going a
good deal more up and down than it had hitherto done, or than any decent,
sober-minded boat need have thought of doing. At first I did not mind it
much, and continued my song, though in rather a minor key, but the
plunging motion began to increase. There was a downward swoop, and I
felt as if my boots were coming into my mouth; then an upward heave, and
my head appeared to sink into my boots; then a sideways rush which landed
me against the side of the vessel, and there I remained, in anything but
blissful contemplation, until we were in harbour on the other side. I will not
attempt to describe my sensations. Any reader who has suffered
sea-sickness knows exactly what it is, and has no need to be reminded. He
who has not suffered sea-sickness does not know what it is, and no amount
of description will give him even a faint idea of its miseries. The funniest
and most aggravating part of it, to my mind, is the queer hap-hazard fashion
in which it selects its victims. Poor Mrs. Carrick was half dead ere we
landed, and looked like the mummy of a deceased pew-opener. The
Professor had suffered to some extent, though in a less degree, while Mrs.
Vosper and Lily enjoyed a total immunity, and were even playfully
incredulous, in a good-natured way, as to the extent of our sufferings. We
were all so engrossed with our own concerns that nobody thought of Gimp,
who had betaken himself to another part of the steamer, but he was
ultimately discovered under the tarpaulin which covered the luggage, and
crept out more dead than alive, and with a face whose colour reminded me
of a loved and lost (and very dirty) box-wood top which had once been one
of my most cherished possessions.
"Oh, governor," he said, addressing the Professor, "ain't it orful? Never
again! Not for Me. It ain't good enough. No more of your blamed ships for
me. When I go home I'll go by rail, or, if I can't afford that, I'll tramp it."
"You won't be able to do that, I'm afraid," said the Professor, with a sickly
smile.
"I'll try, governor, anyhow. Shanks's pony ain't much of a horse, but he
don't gobwobble your inside out like these plaguey ships does. Oh, lor! my
poor innards!"
"'A sea of troubles,' isn't it, Gimp?" said the Professor, but, for once, even a
Shakesperean quotation failed to elicit a response from Gimp.
"Never mind, Gimp," said Mrs. Vosper, kindly. "You'll be all right as soon
as you get on shore."
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"All right, mum? Me all right! Never no more. What's all the world to a
man when he's lost his innards?" Ill as most of the party felt, Gimp's
conviction that he had parted with the whole of his digestive arrangements
was too much for us, and we burst into a general chorus of laughter. Gimp
withdrew in high dudgeon, and was scarcely appeased until, half-an-hour
later, he was set down before a juicy biftek aux pommes and a bock of beer,
and was able to satisfy himself by that practical test that his digestive
apparatus had survived the shock of his recent experiences.
Our performances in Ostend were fairly successful. Vosper was hampered a
little by the necessity of addressing his audience in an unaccustomed
language, and seemed at first to lose a good deal of the ease and aplomb
which had contributed so much to the success of his English performances.
This, however, quickly wore off, and after the first fortnight or so the
performances were running as smoothly as ever, the Professor's queer
French and occasional blunders rather adding zest to the entertainment. The
"Second Sight" portion of the entertainment was for the time being
discontinued. Lily had not been very well of late, and it was thought
desirable to give her a rest. Moreover, the special code by which the trick
was worked was only adapted for performances in English, and would have
had to be completely remodelled and, indeed, learned anew by the
performers for use in any other language.
At one of the evening performances a tall and rather distinguished looking
man, in a fur-collared coat, and wearing a moustache and long imperial,
after the Napoleonic fashion, presented his card, on which was inscribed
"Chevalier D'Arras." I recognised the name as that of a rival
prestidigitateur, and, in accordance with the accustomed courtesy of the
profession, gave him one of the best seats. I had taken him to be a foreigner,
but as he passed out, he asked me, in unmistakably native English, "Where
is your governor hanging out?" I gave him the address. "All right," he said.
"Give him my card, and tell him I will look him up presently."
Accordingly, scarcely had we reached our lodgings after the performance,
when the Chevalier D'Arras was announced. Professor Vosper received him
very cordially. We partook of a light supper, and then, the ladies having
retired, we lighted our cigarettes, and the two conjurers began to exchange
confidences as to their respective doings since they had last met. I made a
move to withdraw, thinking that they might prefer to be alone, but Vosper
good-naturedly stopped me. "Don't run away," he said, "Hazard, you're one
of us now, you know, and you may as well learn all you can of the ups and
downs of the profession. Conjuring isn't always money in both pockets, is
it, d'Arras?"
"You may well say that," rejoined his friend. "And you get bowled over
sometimes just when things seem to be going smoothest. Look at that awful
affair of mine at Antwerp. I was doing the best of business, crowded houses
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every night, when crac! comes my poor lad's misfortune, and from that time
everything went wrong. In less than a month I had to shut up my theatre."
"What affair are you referring to? I have never heard any thing about it."
"The death of my poor boy, Fred Howard. Surely you heard of it? It was in
all the continental papers."
"I'm afraid we benighted cockneys don't see much of the continental papers.
At any rate I must plead ignorance. Suppose you tell us the story."
"I have no objection, but I warn you it isn't a very cheerful one. Indeed, I
don't care to talk very often about the matter. I was performing, as I told
you, in a pretty little theatre, and was doing very well indeed, particularly
with a dark seance, which took place on the stage after the regular
performance, my wife acting as medium. My theatre occupied the ground
floor, entresol, and floor above, and above that I had my own rooms where
I lived with my family. Next door, on the ground-floor, was a little shop
where I sold magical apparatus. I had a lad with me named Fred Howard, to
sell programmes and make himself generally useful, and a sharp young
chap he was, a cockney born and bred, as cheeky as a London sparrow, and
up to anything. You must remember him, Vosper. He was with me when I
was performing at the Philharmonic Hall."
"A little dark fellow with curly hair, and rather a Jewish cast of features. Is
that the lad, you mean?" said Vosper.
"That's the chap. Well, I had had him with me in London, and when I went
to Antwerp he wrote to me, saying he was out of a berth, and asking me to
let him come over. I was rather shy of the idea at first, because he knew
nothing of the language, but ultimately I agreed to let him come, and to give
him a pound a week. I declare the very first night he sold half as many
programmes again as the Belgian chap I had before him."
"How did he manage that, not knowing the language?"
"Oh, he soon got to know enough for that. 'Governor,' says he, what's the
French for 'this way?' 'Par ici,' I said. And 'programme?' 'Same word,' I told
him. And 'how much?' 'Combien.' And ' a penny?' 'Deux sous.' And 'what
you please?' 'Comme vous voulez.' 'All right,' he said. 'That's good enough.'
So he practised a bit till he got 'em to rights, and at night, there he was-'Par
ici, Madame;' 'Par ici, Mounseer ;' 'Programme, Madame.' He would leave
the programme in the lady's hand, and be off with his 'Par ici,' to some one
else, and do the same business again. Then he would come back to the first
lot with a smile and a bow, and stand waiting till they looked up, and then
he would say 'Programme,' again. The lady or the gentleman would say
'Combien?' and he would say 'Comme vous voulez,' in his comical
English-French way, and many a time he would get half-a-franc instead of
the regular penny."
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"A hint for you, Hazard," said Vosper, nodding at me.
"I'm taking a note of it," I replied, with another nod.
"Then again," resumed d'Arras, "my pianist used to play the newest English
music, 'Sweethearts' Waltz,' or 'My Queen,' and such like, not known over
there, and Howard would sell copies of the music to any one who wanted it.
One way and another I daresay he picked up thirty shillings a week in
addition to the pound I paid him, and he cut a swell, I can tell you. First
thing, he must have over a new ulster coat from England, to swell about on
the "Place Verte." Then, as ill-luck would have it, the pianist that I had first
left me and went back to England. I got another, a Miss Annie Sims, and
what must that fool of a boy do but go and fall in love with her, though she
must have been nearly twice his age. He began to bother her when she was
at the theatre practising, and to follow her home, till it got to be quite an
annoyance to her, and she complained to me about it. I gave Master Fred a
wigging, but it didn't do much good. And then he got into racketty ways. A
lot of English swells used to come to my theatre, and of course they spotted
Fred for an Englishman, for he only knew just a few sentences of French.
And then he would get into conversation with them, and ask them how they
liked Antwerp. Very often it came out that they didn't know much of the
place and found it slow, and he would volunteer to show them a thing or
two, and it would end by his going the rounds with them after the
performance, visiting the night-houses, and being up half the night drinking
champagne and that, and of course the next morning he'd look half dead,
with red eyes, and be fit for nothing."
"It's a poor look-out when a young fellow once takes to that sort of thing,"
said the Professor.
"Yes, when a lad once gets on that road there isn't much hope of him. I did
what I could. I gave him a talking to once or twice, for I could see plain
enough that he was getting into bad ways, and Miss Sims complained again
that he was still bothering her, and told me that either he would have to
leave or she must. Well, things were like this when the crash came. I should
tell you that his hours were like this. First thing in the morning he had to
sweep out the theatre and tidy things up, then from ten to twelve he was in
the ticket-office at the entrance, selling tickets. Twelve to two was his
dinner-hour, and during that time I came down and made my stage
arrangements, which I always did myself, for the evening's performance.
Being in the theatre I was close to the ticket-office, and if anybody rang the
bell I was at hand to attend to them. From two o'clock he was in the
box-office till four, and then he was free till the evening. At two o'clock I
always went up to my own rooms and got my dinner with my family.
"Well, one day, he went out at twelve as usual, but instead of getting back
at two he made it nearly a quarter to three. Meanwhile I had done my work
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on the stage, and my dinner was getting cold, but I couldn't leave till he
came back. As you may imagine I wasn't in the best of tempers, and when
he did come back I gave him a bit of blowing up, and my opposite
neighbour, Madame Veron, saw and heard me giving it to him, and it might
have gone hard with me in consequence, as you will find. He took all I said
to him without making much reply, but I gathered that he had been round to
Miss Sims'. I gave it him pretty hot, and then I went upstairs to my dinner,
leaving him in the office below.
"I had had my dinner and lighted my pipe, and was sitting on a corner of the
table talking to the wife of my advertisement manager, Madame Gaspard,
who had just looked in, when we hard a loud bang in the theatre below.
'Mon Dieu! what's that? ' says Madame Gaspard. 'Some tomfoolery of
Fred's, I expect,' I said; 'larking with one of the pistols.' 'Hadn't you better
go down and see?' says my wife; 'there might have been some accident.' I
didn't think much of the matter. I had two small pistols, which were ready
loaded for the evening's performance, but only with powder. I hadn't a
bullet in the place, so I felt pretty sure there couldn't be much harm done.
However, to satisfy my wife and Madame Gaspard, I went down. The stairs
led into the audience part of the theatre, and when I got there I could see
nothing, for it was all but dark, being only lighted up at night. There was a
sort of sky-light, but that was kept covered up with tarpaulins. You could
just see to move about, and that was all.
"When I got down it was all quiet enough, but I smelt something burning. I
sniffed, and sniffed, and moved about among the seats, but there was
nothing wrong there, and then I went up the two or three steps leading from
the front to the stage. Sniff, sniff, the smell of burning came stronger, and
as my eyes got accustomed to the darkness I could see somebody or
something lying on the stage, right in front of my centre-table. I was a bit
startled, but I made up my mind it was some tomfoolery of Fred's, for he
was always play-acting, and making-believe one thing or another. 'Get up,
you fool,' I said, 'what are you doing there?' but he made no answer, only a
sort of hard, sobbing breathing, 'er, er, er,' and I saw that the front of his
shirt was smouldering. I stooped over him and put it out. Still I only thought
he had had an accident and given himself some trifling hurt, for a man can't
very well shoot himself without a bullet. But when I put the fire out I could
feel my hand all wet, and still he made no sound except that awful
breathing. Even then I thought it was an accident, but I knew it must be
something serious. I rushed out to get a doctor, and as I got into the light I
saw my hands were all bloody. I did not know where to find a doctor, but I
rushed over to my neighbour, Madame Veron, the same that had seen me
jacketing Fred, and said, 'A doctor. I want a doctor; Fred has had an
accident with a pistol, and I'm afraid he's badly hurt.' She gave me a queer
kind of look, for, as she told me afterwards, she thought I had shot him; but
she sent one of her apprentices for a doctor. He wasn't long coming, and
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with him came a Commissary of Police and a couple of gens d'armes, I
expect Madame Veron had given them the tip,"
"Rather a serious position," said Vosper, as the Chevalier paused to light
another cigarette.
"Serious! you may well say so. It might have been a very narrow squeak,
but it never struck me at the time that I could be suspected. We went into
the theatre, and the Commissary and the doctor went up on the stage, and I
stood with the gens d'armes just below. I listened for the hard breathing, but
couldn't hear it any longer, and then the doctor said something which I
couldn't catch to the Commissary, and the Commissary took off his cap, and
the two gens d'armes, seeing him, did the same. I never thought till that
moment that the poor lad was more than hurt, but I knew that meant Death.
I turned quite sick and faint, and with that the Commissary of Police went
off to report, I suppose, to the Judge of Instruction or some such officer,
telling me I must stay where I was till he returned. He locked the doors, and
left me with the gens d'armes. Presently there came a knocking, and I heard
the voice of Gaspard, my agent, asking to come in. I told him the door was
locked, but he could come in through the shop, next-door. And so he did,
and he brought in with him a great, scrawly, ill-spelt letter, written by poor
Fred and addressed to Miss Sims, which he had found on the counter in the
shop. It said he couldn't live without her, and as she wouldn't have anything
to say to him, and others had come between them (I have a notion that
meant me, but I'll swear he had no cause for it) he had made up his mind to
kill himself for her sake, and wishing her good-bye for ever, and all that. I
never thought the poor boy had so much sentiment in him. He was pretty
determined, too, for down behind the counter we found a lot of little
cuttings of lead. We found afterwards that he had been to a gunsmith's
asking the price of a revolver, and he must have picked up a big bullet, of
which there were a lot on the counter, and cut it smaller and smaller till it
would go into one of my little conjuring pistols. Of course, after that, the
police knew I had no hand in it, and they didn't trouble me about the matter.
Madame Gaspard, too, testified that I was upstairs in my own room when
we heard the report of the pistol.
"The bullet hadn't touched any vital part, but it went clean through the
chest, and the loss of blood killed him. He lay in a regular pool of it, just
opposite my centre-table, on my beautiful new carpet, and nothing would
get the stain out. We shut up the theatre for ten days, and when we opened
again I had to stop the Dark Seance, which had been the principal
attraction, for my little woman said she couldn't sit there in the dark raising
make-believe spirits, knowing that that stain was just under her feet, and the
poor boy's blood scarcely dry in the carpet. She declared it would give her
the horrors, and she should fancy him lying there still. And I hadn't much
heart to perform, myself. It didn't seem decent to be standing there,
cracking jokes and rattling off one's patter just on the very spot where the
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poor lad had killed himself. And of course the story got talked about. It
brought a few, I daresay, out of curiosity, but it kept more away, and after a
week or two I turned it up, and made a fresh start in another place. And
that's the true history of poor Fred Howard."
"And Miss Sims," I asked, "what became of her?"
"That's more than I can tell you. I think she felt the poor lad's death a good
bit, though he had been rather a nuisance to her in his lifetime, and not
many weeks afterwards she said she would rather go back to England. I was
willing enough, for business was bad, and she was rather expensive. What
she may be doing now I can't say, for I have never heard of her since."
The Chevalier sat a little longer, and then took his leave.
It was very late, and Professor Vosper had imbibed considerably more than
his usual quantity, but he showed little or no sign of intoxication until he
rose from his chair to wish me good-night. He wavered a moment, but
steadied himself with a fervent grasp of my right hand, and said, with tipsy
solemnity and alcoholic tears in his eyes:-
"A s-ad shtory, Hazard, a s-ad shtory. Dick, my dear boy, you see what
comes of drink and drissi-drink and dissipation. Avoid 'em, Dick, avoid
'em, and you'll be a happy man."
And still shaking his head solemnly, and holding on to the balusters with
both hands, he stumbled up to bed.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XIX
Bruges--Ghent--Brussels--A Serious Dilemma--The Only Way out of it.--A
Bed-chamber Rehearsal--The Mysteries of "Make-Up."--My first Public
Show--Washing the Paint off--An Unexpected Meeting--Putting Things in a
New Light--Letters from Home.
O
UR next halting place was Bruges. I was charmed with the quaint old
Flemish city, once in the very forefront of history, but which for ages past
seems to have stood aside from the march of progress, and let the world go
by her.
It was hard to realise, walking in these quiet streets or on these almost
deserted quays, that in the thirteenth century Bruges was one of the leading
cities in the commercial world, numbering some 200,000 citizens, and
harbouring the representatives of twenty kingdoms within its walls. I tried,
with scant success, I must admit, to imagine it in the heyday of its glories,
and to picture the myriads of craftsmen hurrying to their work, while the
warning bell rang out to caution feeble folk to keep within, lest they should
be trampled by the passing throng. Now, the feeblest might sally forth with
confidence, secure of amplest elbow-room. I sat in the noble market-place,
where
"the Belfry, old and brown,
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still watches o'er the town,"
and tried to bring before my mind's eye the stirring events of which that
broad open square has been the scene, from the Grand Tournament in 1429,
when the strangely mis-named Philip the Good instituted the Order of the
Golden Fleece, to the triumphal entry of Maximilian in 1477, and the by no
means triumphal entry of the same haughty prince a few years later, when,
determined to bring his rebellious burghers to reason, he rode into the
"Grande Place" expecting to carry all before him, but was himself taken
prisoner, and held under watch and ward until by solemn oath he had bound
himself to restore to the citizens their ravished liberties.
In this same "Grande Place," by the way, the Professor and myself had an
amusing illustration of the extreme lengths to which patriotism may
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sometimes be carried. On the day after our arrival we had taken our seats
outside a cafe in the Place, nearly opposite the celebrated Belfry, a lofty
three-storied tower of nearly three hundred feet high, and containing a
carillon, or peal of bells, of European celebrity. For some few minutes no
one appeared to minister to our wants, and we occupied the interval in
admiring the Belfry. Viewing it critically, it struck me that it was a little out
of the perpendicular, and on calling the attention of Vosper to the matter he
was of the same opinion. When at last the garcon appeared, and had taken
our orders, I casually remarked to him in a tentative kind of way, and in the
politest French I could command, "Your Belfry is not exactly upright, is
it?" I never saw a man so angry in my life. If I had cast some undeserved
aspersion upon the character of Mrs. Garcon he could hardly have shown
more excitement. "Mais si, monsieur, c'est tout dr-r-roit," he hissed between
his teeth, continuing with a volley of abuse, of which it is probably
fortunate that we understood very little, but in which the words sacres
cochons d'Anglais were distinctly perceptible, and finally declined to serve
us at all.* (* A fact.) We were not conscious of being sacred pigs, or of
having done anything to deserve such unceremonious treatment, but there
was no help for it, and we forthwith transferred our custom to another
establishment, taking good care this time not to make any disparaging
remarks as to the Belfry, which, by the way, as we afterwards found from
the guide-book, is actually 43 centimetres, or about sixteen inches, out of
the perpendicular. We decided, after due consideration, not to lay the matter
before the British Consul, but if, after this experience, any foreigner were to
remark in my presence that Cleopatra's Needle was not quite so sharp as it
might be, or that the Nelson lions did not appear to have been recently fed, I
should certainly be disposed to make it a personal matter.
In point of architectural beauty Bruges is a queen among cities, being
delightful alike by the memory of its former glories and the charm of its
present picturesqueness. For commercial purposes, however, and in
particular for the purposes of a magical entertainment, it is scarcely a
remunerative abiding-place, and the same may be said of the neighbouring
city of Ghent. Our halt at these two cities was but short, our performances
not meeting the encouragement which in our own opinion they deserved.
In Brussels we met with a warmer reception and better pecuniary results,
and here we pitched our tent for a stay of some weeks. The first week was
fairly good; the second still better, and we began to entertain sanguine
hopes of a really brilliant success, when, as ill-luck would have it, the
Professor one night walked home through the rain, and sitting down to
supper in his wet clothes took a chill. A doctor was called in, who declared
that his ailment was, so far, only a very severe cold, but that he must keep
his bed for several days, or the attack would probably develop into
rheumatic fever. This was a terrible blow; a great deal of money had been
spent in advertising the performances, and the audiences had been nightly
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increasing. Meanwhile the rent of the theatre in which the entertainment
was given was heavy, and must be paid in any case; while it was very
doubtful whether, if the performances were once suspended, the public
could be again induced to take the same amount of interest in them. A
council of war was held round the Professor's bedside; a rather lugubrious
council, for two of the consulting parties, Mrs. Vosper and the Duchess,
were in tears, and the Professor enlivened the Proceedings by an occasional
groan, wrung from him by the acuteness of his rheumatic pains. All were at
their wit's end, when finding that nobody suggested any other expedient, I
said, with some inward perturbation, "Well; Professor, as there does'nt seem
to be any other way out of it, will you trust me to perform for you? I can't
promise to make much of a show of it, but at any rate, I'll do my best."
"By Jove, if you only could," said the sick man, rather doubtfully. "You
know the tricks right enough, and if the show was given in English you
might pull through, but its no joke to have to run it off the reel in French, I
can tell you."
"Don't trouble about that," I said, "I fancy I know the patter pretty well.
We'll have a rehearsal within the next hour, with Mrs. Vosper and Mrs.
Carrick for audience, and if I can satisfy them I think I can manage to face
the good people of Brussels."
Mrs. Vosper, who was standing next to me, put her arms round my neck
and gave me a hearty kiss. "You're a dear good fellow, Dick, and whether
you succeed or not, the kindness is the same, and I shan't forget it, for one."
"Nor I," said Mrs. Carrick.
I instinctively drew back a little, for I was half afraid that she might feel
bound to repeat the embrace, but happily she confined herself to the verbal
assurance.
"Nor I," said Lily, stealing a soft little hand into mine.
"I know you'll do your best," said the Professor, "but it's tremendously
up-hill work to give a show without having regularly rehearsed it
beforehand."
"But I am going to rehearse it," I said, "and, if you don't mind, we'll have
the rehearsal here in this room, so that you can judge for yourself whether I
can pull through, and put me straight where I may be running off the line."
No sooner said than done. The necessary apparatus was quickly fetched, all
present, save the invalid, lending a helping hand. The dressing-table was
drawn out from the wall for my use, and the decks generally cleared for
action. The sick man was propped up with pillows, so that he could see and
criticise my performance; the remainder of the party took seats at the foot
of the bed, and I began. I knew the patter by heart, and from greater
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familiarity with the language was able to rattle it off with considerably
greater fluency than Vosper himself. In the matter of dexterity I was, of
course, very far his inferior, but the majority of the tricks were fortunately
of a comparatively easy character, and I had practised them on and off, at
odd times, sufficiently often to be tolerably familiar with them. Now and
then Vosper interposed with a criticism or a suggested improvement, but
more often with a friendly word of encouragement. On the whole the
rehearsal was a decided success, and the applause when I finished was long
and hearty, even Tip barking his approval.
"You'll do, my dear boy, you'll do," said the Professor, wearily turning over
on his side. "You've only to look to those two or three little things I have
told you about, and keep your nerve, and you'll give a very good show. I
only wish you were ten years older, you do look so terribly juvenile."
"And why shouldn't we make him ten years older?" interposed the Duchess.
"You be ready dressed, Mr. Hazard, half-an-hour before you ring up to
begin, and I'll make you up as old as you like. I only wish we could get you
a dark curly wig. Your own hair's too short and too light to do much with. If
you can get a wig between now and seven o'clock, so much the better. If
not, we must do the best we can without it."
I succeeded in procuring a suitable wig, which in itself very considerably
changed my appearance, but my fair complexion and boyish features, of
course, remained unaltered. I was by this time the possessor of an
unexceptionable dress-suit, which I donned with much satisfaction, and by
seven o'clock all my arrangements were made, and I was awaiting Mrs.
Carrick in the dressing-room of the theatre. I had not long to wait, and upon
her arrival she lost no time in getting to business. Her first proceeding was
to tuck a napkin round my neck so as to protect my shirt-front. Then taking
from a tin box which she had brought with her sundry sticks of a
cosmetique-like substance in various colours, known, as I have since
ascertained, as "grease-paints," she began to smear them scientifically over
my features, rubbing them well in with her thumbs. Then taking sundry
smaller sticks, sharpened to a point like a pencil, she traced lines between
my eyebrows, on each side of my nose, and at the corners of my mouth,
rubbing them down in like manner. She next took a pencil of some dark
colour and rubbed it over my eyebrows. Lastly she took a small portion of a
frizzy substance, known, I believe, as "crape-hair," and after rolling it into
something like a cigarette between the palms of her hands, stuck it, with a
horrible composition which she called "spirit-gum," on my upper lip,
trimming it into shape with a pair of scissors, and twisting the points into a
delicate droop.
I must say I felt horribly uncomfortable; somewhat as the Man with the Iron
Mask might have done if the mask had been permanently cemented to his
visage. There was a nasty clammy feeling all over my face, the grease-paint
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seeming, according to my sensations, to be laid on quite a quarter of an inch
thick, while the feeling produced by the spirit-gum and the crape-hair was
simply indescribable.
Mrs. Vosper laughed at my grimaces:-
"You can fancy now, Master Dick, what the Fairy Violante has to put up
with every night. It's rather a queer feeling, at first, isn't it? but you very
soon get used to it."
"Good gracious!" I said "you don't mean to say that the complexion of the
Fairy Violante--"
"Grease-paint, every bit of it. But hold still, please, we are going to put your
wig on."
I submitted to the operation. A comb was passed through my curls, and the
napkin removed from my neck. I rushed with deep anxiety to the
looking-glass, for I could hardly resist the idea that I had been made a fool
of, and that I should find myself wearing the likeness of the King of the
Cannibal Islands, or some equally eccentric personage. I found on the
contrary, to my great surprise, that I had never been so good-looking in my
life, and was compelled to admit that Art had very considerably improved
on Nature. My objectionable juvenility of feature and expression had
disappeared. What I saw in the glass was the presentment of a rather
good-looking-I am aware that self-praise is no recommendation, but I am
speaking of the illusion, and not the reality-a rather good-looking young
man of about thirty, with an aquiline nose (my natural organ is straight),
and a blase, man-about-town sort of expression. It required a positive effort
to believe that I was looking at myself. The two ladies were much amused
at my astonishment, but I had little leisure to indulge in it, for there wanted
but five minutes to the rise of the curtain, and it was time for Madame
Linda to take her place at the piano. A substitute had been engaged to
discharge my accustomed duty of selling programmes and showing visitors
to their places.
In due time the performance commenced. For the first few minutes I felt a
little nervous, but the sensation quickly wore off, and the more readily as I
reflected on the completeness of my disguise. I began with a few words of
apology for the absence of Professor Vosper, and stated the reason which
had caused me to appear in his place. My explanation was very well
received, and I plunged boldly into my first trick, which fortunately was a
complete success. In the course of the entertainment I made one or two little
slips, obvious enough to an expert, but happily unimportant in effect, and
they did not seem to be detected by the company. I, of course, pushed on as
if all were as it should be. When the curtain fell at the close of the
performance the plaudits were as hearty as they had been at Vosper's own
performances. The congratulations of my friends behind the curtain were
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not less cordial, and Gimp, who had by this time come behind the scenes,
struck an attitude and quoted-
"Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin, new reaped,
Shewed like a stubble land at harvest time;
He was perfumed like a milliner,
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which, ever and anon,
He gave his nose, and took't away again."
"Easy, Gimp," I said, "your description is about as truthful as an epitaph. I
suppose I am to set off the 'chin new-reaped' against the unmerited libel of
the pouncet-box.? But Gimp had started again with a fresh quotation,
"See what a grace is seated on his brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself,
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A stature like the herald Mercury
New lifted on a heaven-kissing hill;
A combination and a form, indeed,
Where every god doth seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a Man."
"'Hyperion's curls,' as you call them, are uncomfortably warm, and, with
your permission, ladies, I will remove them," which I did accordingly.
Lily laughed at my altered appearance, the dark moustache and eyebrows
contrasting comically with the colour of my own hair.
"May I ask, ladies, if this greasy composition will ever come off, or whether
I am condemned to retain it for the rest of my natural life? "Gimp, 'an' you
love me,' bring me some soap and water."
"Stop a bit," said Mrs. Carrick, "don't wash just yet. First rub on some of
this cold cream, and then you will find the colour come off easily enough."
I did as instructed, and found little difficulty in getting off the grease-paint,
but when it came to removing the false moustache my sensations were
excruciating. The spirit-gum, a sort of cement of fabulous tenacity, had so
amalgamated the false hair with the natural down of my upper lip that I
began to fear that I should have to seek the aid of the barber to get it off. At
last, however, with a sensation as if the whole of the skin came off with it,
it did come off, and I was plain Dick Hazard once more, Gimp improving
the occasion by quoting, with imperfect application,
"Off with his head! so much for Buckingham!"
"Thank you, Gimp," I said, "I don't know that it would be much more
painful, but I think I prefer things as they are."
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"And if you'll take my advice, Mr. Dick," said Mrs. Carrick, "you'll have a
nice clean shave before you wear crape hair again."
"I will, madam, you may depend on it," I replied. "I am not exactly 'bearded
like the pard,' as Gimp would say, but I find it is possible to have very little,
and yet too much."
"How you people do chatter!" said Mrs. Vosper. "Hurry up, do, and let us
get home to supper. My poor old man will be on tenter-hooks till he knows
how things have gone. He will be quite jealous when he hears how capitally
Dick has got on."
We found the Professor, however, too ill to trouble himself much about the
matter. He was very glad to find that I had been so far successful, and it was
agreed that I should continue to undertake the performance until he was
completely recovered, which I did accordingly.
It was, I think, on the third occasion that I thus acted as his deputy when I
unexpectedly met an old friend. One of my first tricks was a card-trick, and
on advancing to the company, and asking some one to draw a card, I
suddenly realised that the gentleman to whom I was offering the pack was
my former teacher, Mr. Vernon, and beside him was the lady who had
accompanied him on the occasion of my great school performance, already
described. If I had not been taken by surprise I do not think I should have
betrayed myself, but I forgot for the moment the completeness of my
disguise, and involuntarily made a start and a half-movement of
recognition. I recollected myself instantly, and offered the pack, in my
calmest manner, but the mischief was done. I saw Mr. Vernon look at me
for some minutes in a puzzled manner, when his face suddenly lighted up
with a smile and he made some remark to his companion. I could not hear
what he said, but I felt that he had found me out, and the knowledge did not
contribute to my peace of mind, or to the finish of my performance.
However, I managed to get through my duties without any serious
break-down. At the close of the performance I made my bow and retired, as
usual, and a few minutes later, as I had more than half anticipated, Mr.
Vernon's card was brought to me by Gimp, with a message that the
gentleman would like to say a few words to me. I came down to the front,
for there was no space to receive visitors behind the scenes.
"I knew I could not be mistaken," said Mr. Vernon, as he warmly shook my
hand. "Your make-up is wonderful, but you cannot disguise your voice.
You know this lady, I think. She has assisted at one of your entertainments
once before."
"Miss Sutherland, I think?" as the lady gave me her hand with a sweet
smile.
"Miss Sutherland until about ten days ago; now, happily, Mrs. Vernon. But,
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come, tell us about yourself, and how you come to be here. When you left
school I understood that you were going into some mercantile business."
I pulled a wry face. "So 1 was, sir, but I didn't like the prospect of the
mercantile business, and so, as you see, I struck out another line for
myself."
"And must have made pretty good progress, to be travelling about already
as a full-blown professor, like this."
"That is mere accident," I explained. "I am taking the place, for a few
nights, of the genuine professor, my employer, who is just now laid up with
a rheumatic attack. But for that you would have found me in a much more
subordinate position."
"But your friends at home-your parents-what do they say to your
proceedings?"
"Well, to tell the truth, my mother-I have no father-does not know exactly
what my occupation is. I have told her that I am doing well and am very
comfortable, but she does not know particulars."
Mr. Vernon looked grave.
"Then, in point of fact, you have run away from home?"
"Something like it. But I never could have settled down to the occupation
proposed for me, and therefore I was bound to find some other way of
earning a living. Having a turn for this kind of thing, I naturally drifted that
way, and so far I like it immensely."
"That doesn't quite prove that it is the best thing for you. It's rather-I don't
mean any offence-it's rather a vagabond kind of life, isn't it?"
"Well, I suppose it is, in a sense. But the people I am with are thoroughly
straightforward and honourable, and they have been very kind to me."
"Good, so far, but still I don't think it is quite the life a careful parent or
guardian would select for his son. How old may you be, with the paint off?"
"Not quite seventeen."
"And your mother, if I understand you rightly, does not know either where
you are or what you are doing. That isn't a right state of things, you know;
and I'm not quite sure that it isn't my duty to give her the information."
"You won't betray me, I am sure, sir?" I said, looking, I have no doubt,
rather crestfallen. "I really can't go back."
"It isn't a question of betraying you, my dear boy. I have always been your
friend, as you know, and should be sorry to have a hand in forcing you into
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a distasteful occupation, but right is right, and I am not clear but that I
should be serving your own interests, as well as doing an act of duty to your
mother, by revealing your secret. However, we mustn't do things in a hurry.
Come and breakfast with me to-morrow morning at the Hotel de Vienne,
where we are staying, and we'll talk it over. Meanwhile, you may rely on
my taking no step without giving you full notice beforehand."
With this assurance I was forced to be content. I kept the appointment in
some trepidation, but Mr. Vernon's first words partially reassured me. I
found him alone, Mrs. Vernon not having yet come down.
"I have been thinking over our conversation last night, Hazard. I should be
sorry to use the accident of our meeting to your disadvantage, or even what
you might think to be your disadvantage. But I am quite clear about one
thing. Your mother ought to be informed as to your occupation, and to have
the opportunity of expressing her feelings in relation to it. If you will
undertake to do this, to let her know what you are doing, and give her the
opportunity of communicating with you on the subject, there is an end of
the matter so far as I am concerned. I know I can trust your word."
"Don't you think it might be postponed a month or two longer, sir?"
"Meaning a month or two more of suspense, and consequent heartache, for
your mother. Probably she would be able to endure it, but whether it is right
or kind to make her do so is a different matter."
"I hadn't thought of it in that light," I stammered, with rather a guilty
feeling, for I knew my mother's nervous temperament, and felt that the
uncertainty as to my occupation and whereabouts must have caused her a
good deal of anxiety.
"Probably not. We are all rather too apt to look upon our parents in the light
of useful persons, designed by nature to mend our clothes and keep us
supplied with pocket-money, and to forget that they are sometimes weak
enough to feel a very tender interest in our comings and goings, and to
worry about us occasionally a good deal more perhaps than we deserve. I
fancy you must have a good mother, Hazard."
"As good as ever lived," I said, profoundly thankful that Mrs. Vernon was
not present to mark the tears that somehow would come into my eyes.
"And rather fond of you, probably. Enough at any rate to feel a little
anxious as to where you are, and what you may be doing, and the company
you may be keeping. And even, perhaps-mothers are rather weak, you
know, and I think you said your mother was a widow-a little lonely without
you. Eh, Hazard?"
I had never thought of the matter in that light. I had hitherto regarded my
present way of life as a matter solely regarding myself, -a pleasant way of
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escape from an unpleasant alternative. But Mr. Vernon's quiet reproof
brought up such a touching picture of my mother in her lonely home-my
dear, anxious, timid little mother, perhaps almost breaking her heart for her
two wandering sons-that every word seemed to fall like a sledge-hammer
on my heart, and I felt as if I could never forgive myself for having treated
her so cruelly. I made a desperate effort to assert my manliness, but it was
of no avail. I turned my face to the mantelpiece, leant my head upon my
hands, and sobbed aloud.
Mr. Vernon put his hand kindly upon my shoulder. "Control yourself, my
dear boy; your present distress shows that you would not be wilfully cruel,
but you must remember that, as poor Tom Hood says:-
'Evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart.'
"You will write to your mother, won't you?"
"Yes, sir, this very day."
"That's right; I am sure you will never regret it. And now, pull yourself
together while I go and look for Mrs. Vernon. My lady's toilet is somewhat
lengthy this morning."
He left the room accordingly, and, with a kindly tact, for which I was
deeply grateful, remained absent long enough to enable me to completely
recover my self-control. On his return he was accompanied by Mrs.
Vernon, and we sat down to a pleasant little dejeuner. My hosts encouraged
me to talk about myself and my doings, and got much fun out of my
account of my small adventures.
Breakfast over, we bade each other a cordial good-bye, my kind
entertainers being bound for Aix-la-Chapelle, while I returned to my
lodgings to write the promised letter to my mother. I made it a point of
honour to have no further concealment from her, but frankly gave her a full
account of my doings since the day I left home, and finally made a
complete submission to her will, undertaking to come home at once if she
desired me to do so.
Having despatched this letter, I waited with some anxiety for the reply. It
came in due course, accompanied by a letter from the Major. My mother's
was as follows:-
"MY DARLING BOY,
"Your welcome letter has just arrived, and is a great relief to my mind. I
cannot think why you should want to be a conjurer, as we never had one in
the family before, but I suppose you take after your poor Uncle Thomas,
who invented the Magic Cough-Syrup, and the Magic Black-Beetle
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Exterminator, and a lot of other curious things that nobody else would ever
have thought of. I don't think he made much money by them, but I believe
they were very clever. I must say I am rather glad you didn't take to
hairdressing, though it is a nice clean sort of business, and I should think
decidedly easier than conjuring. Your Uncle Bumpus is very much annoyed
with you for going away, as he says with your talent for arithmetic you
might in a year or two have been earning five shillings a week. Of course I
should like to have you home, but if you are doing as well as you say I
should be sorry to stand in your light. I only hope conjuring is a nice moral
profession. I never saw a conjurer but once, and then the man made a
pudding in your poor dear father's best hat, and he was always sorry
afterwards that he hadn't worn his other hat instead.
"Jemima sends her affectionate respects. We have very good news of Peter,
but he isn't made a captain yet.
"With best and fondest love, from your ever affectionate mother, " MARIA
HAZARD."
The Major's letter ran thus:-
"MY DEAR DICK,
"What's good for nothing, they say, never comes to any harm. I have tried
to comfort your mother with this consideration, but not with the success I
could have wished.
"Seriously, my dear boy, your long silence, and the uncertainty as to your
whereabouts and well-being, have been a great anxiety to your mother. She
will not hear a word against you, and I do not suppose in the letter she is
now writing you will find one word of reproach, but it is right that you
should know that your conduct has been a severe trial to her, and I sincerely
trust, for all our sakes, that you will not leave us so long in the dark again.
We have talked over the question of recalling you home. Your present life
isn't quite the thing we should have chosen for you, but while you are well
and happy, and pleased with your occupation, your mother is unwilling to
withdraw you from it. If, however, you should tire of it, or find it not quite
all you expect, for I suppose all is not gold that glitters, even in the
conjuring profession, don't forget that you will have a hearty welcome
home from a very loving mother, and scarcely less so from
"Your attached friend,
"ARTHUR MANLY."
I read and re-read both letters honestly, and tried to discover which way my
duty lay. Neither of them, at any rate, amounted to a direct recall, and, after
careful consideration, it seemed to me clear that the writers really wished to
leave me free to follow my present occupation until I myself grew weary of
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it. I therefore decided to make no immediate change, but resolved
thenceforth to write home once a week a full report of my proceedings, and
to this resolution I adhered during the remainder of my magical career.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
|
CHAPTER XX
Arrival in Paris--Gastronomic Experiences--Gimp Missing--The
Morgue--Return of the Prodigal--The History of his Adventures--An
Epicurean Banquet--Presenting the Bill.
I
T WAS some days before the Professor was able to resume his place on
the platform. During this time I had continued to perform in his stead, to my
own considerable improvement, and, I am happy to say, without any serious
detriment to our exchequer. While he was away his absence was kept as
quiet as possible, but on his recovery the return of the real Modern
Cagliostro to the stage was made known by a series of flaming
advertisements, and for a short time brought increased audiences. After a
few weeks, however, we found that the attraction began to wane, and the
Professor, like a prudent man, determined not to wear out his welcome, but
to push on to fresh fields of conquest. Easter was approaching, and with it
the great Foire aux Pains d'Epice, or Gingerbread Fair, in Paris, and it was
finally determined, in solemn conclave, that we should try our fortunes in
that quarter. I felt rather scandalised at the idea of our lowering ourselves,
as it seemed to me, by giving our performance at a fair, and I suppose my
face must have reflected my feelings, for the Professor laughed merrily at
my discomfited expression, and asked whether I was afraid of having to
preside over the snuff-box and cocoa-nut department, three shies a penny?
Finally, however, he said:-" I can understand your feelings, my dear fellow,
but you are worrying yourself without reason. You naturally take your ideas
of a French fair from an English one, but you will find that there is a vast
difference between the two. In England a fair lasts at most a week, and
more often only a couple of days, and our eccentric climate very often
knocks the whole concern on the head, so far as any profit to be made out
of it. Under such circumstances it isn't worth any man's while, unless he is a
circus or wild-beast proprietor, to sink money in a big show. The great
Gingerbread Fair in Paris, like that of St. Cloud and a good many more of
the large French fairs, lasts for three weeks, or even longer, and as it falls at
Easter-time you may be pretty sure of a tolerable spell of fine weather.
Then, again, the French people are much better supporters of this kind of
thing than the English, and, as a natural consequence, a fair in France
attracts a much higher class of exhibitors. Why, I'll venture to say you will
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see shows on the ground that would make a big hole in a couple of
thousand pounds. In England I should no more dream of performing at a
fair than of going into the learned pig business; but in Paris nobody will
think any the worse of us, and, with decent luck, we may make a very good
three weeks' work of it."
We accordingly betook ourselves to Paris, arriving there about a week
before Easter. The Professor had to arrange for the hire and erection of a
portable theatre, and he further engaged a couple of French clowns to beat
the drum, blow horns, &c., outside the show, to induce the people to "walk
up" and see the wonders within. These matters duly arranged, we had still
several days wherein to make acquaintance with the Gay City, and very
delightful I found it. In these fast-travelling days, when Paris, like Brighton,
is almost a suburb of London, it would be an impertinence on my part to
attempt to describe any of its thousand-and-one attractions, with which
many of my readers are probably better acquainted than myself. Suffice it
to say that we did as much sight-seeing as we possibly could in the time at
our disposal, by no means neglecting the convenient and inexpensive
"fixed-price" restaurants in the Palais Royal and elsewhere. For the purpose
of improving my French and finding my way about I had purchased an
admirable little hand-book, called Paris en Poche (one of a series known as
the Guides Conty). One of its special features was a section devoted to the
fixed-priced restaurants, tabulated by reference to locality; and armed with
my little book, in whatever quarter of Paris we chanced to find ourselves, I
was rarely at a loss to discover some cheap and convenient place of
refreshment. My success in this particular, and my greater familiarity (so
far as it went) with the language, caused me to be elected by acclamation
guide, interpreter, and dinner-orderer to the party. I made a few mistakes
occasionally, but they only added to our fun. The majority of our party
stuck to English or English-looking dishes when procurable, and the run
upon rosbif and biftek aux pommes was considerable. Gimp in particular
was very severe upon the frivolities of French cookery, and when asked
what he would like to follow his biftek, generally decided for another
biftek, and more "pommes." I myself am naturally of an inquiring turn of
mind, and generally went in, on principle, for any unknown dish which
appeared on the bill of fare, even to such un-English delicacies as
grenouilles a la poulette and the toothsome though somewhat alarming
escargot. The rest of the party watched me on these occasions with interest,
not unmingled with apprehension, but positively declined to share my
banquet. The results were various, sometimes causing me to wish that I had
not ventured quite so far into the regions of the unknown; but now and then
I entertained an angel unawares in the shape of some unexpectedly
appetising dish. Once, I remember, gras double a la Lyonnaise figured on
the bill of fare, and as none of our party had the smallest notion what it was,
I ordered it, on my usual principle, for my own consumption. I heard the
waiter repeat the order, down a sort of lift, as "graddle," or something like
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it, which did not increase our store of information. When the dish arrived it
proved to be some description of tripe done up in a very appetising manner,
but we were much exercised in mind as to the animal from whence it
proceeded. It was clearly not bullock's tripe, being much too small, and
votes were about equally divided between sheep and pig. The Professor
unkindly suggested "dog," which I hope was a libel. In any case it was
remarkably nice, and I repeated the experience on several subsequent
occasions. Even Gimp was induced to try it, and to signify his august
approval, occasionally adopting "graddle," when on the bill of fare, as his
second dish.
We had been about a week in Paris when an event happened which caused
us great anxiety. We rented a small appartement on the Boulevard Voltaire,
so as to be conveniently placed for the Fair, which was to be held in the
Place de la Nation, hard by. Gimp had a bed in an adjoining house, and took
his premier dejeuner, or early breakfast of coffee and rolls, in his own
room. After breakfast he generally strolled up and down the Boulevard,
smoking his pipe, until a little before twelve o'clock, when he came to our
lodgings, and we all turned out together for our midday meal, nominally a
dejeuner, but really our dinner, at one of the fixed-price restaurants. We
preferred these because, knowing beforehand what we had to pay, and how
many dishes we were entitled to, we had no fear of running into
extravagance. On the day I refer to Gimp was expected as usual at twelve
o'clock, but he did not appear, and after waiting three-quarters of an hour
we were compelled to go to our dejeuner without him, leaving, however,
with the concierge a message to let him know where he would find us. We
reached our destination, finished our meal, and returned. Still no tidings of
Gimp, and we began to be very uneasy about him. As may be supposed, his
knowledge of French was absolutely nil, and if he got into any difficulty his
queer appearance and rather irascible temper would not tend to improve
matters. Night came, and still no Gimp. We went to bed in a very anxious
state of mind, and in the morning the Professor and I were up betimes, and
went round to his lodging to inquire after him. We found that he had not
been home all night, a very ominous sign, for Gimp's habits were of the
most regular description. Being by this time seriously alarmed we spoke of
the matter to one of the sergents de ville, who answer in Paris to our police.
The man was very civil; he took our address, and promised that if the police
knew anything of our friend it should be forthwith communicated to us.
Meanwhile, he recommended us to go at once to the Morgue, or public
dead-house, as in the event of any fatal accident to an unknown person he
would at once be taken there. We returned to our lodgings and left word
that Mrs. Vosper was not to wait breakfast on our account, and then, hailing
one of the light open cabs with which Paris abounds, we told the driver to
take us to the Morgue. We were not much inclined for conversation, for the
mere idea of our destination, and the thought of what we might see there,
filled us with a nameless horror.
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After a drive of some length we reached the Morgue, a low, flat-roofed
building, immediately behind the Cathedral of Notre Dame. There was a
door on either side the facade, and a constant stream of the Parisian lower
class of both sexes and all ages, even mothers with children in their arms,
streamed in at the one and out at the other door. No reverence for death, no
sense of the awful sights to be seen within, seemed to be felt by that motley
crowd. They came out as they went in, talking and laughing, and
exchanging ribald jests. "Eh bien," said one man, newly arrived on the
scene, to a friend who had just come out, "Comment ca va-t-il? Combien
y-a-t-il de Machabees aujourd'hui?* (* "How goes it? How many
Machabees" (the slang name for a corpse) "to-day?") "Un seulement," was
his friend's reply. "Les affaires ne marchent pas, a ce qu'il parait. Hier et
avant-hier il y avait relache."** (** "One only. Business is slack, it seems.
Yesterday and the day before there was 'no performance.'")
The cynicism of the man disgusted us, and with a shudder we passed into
the building. We found ourselves in front of a plate-glass partition,
extending from side to side, and behind it, facing the glass and drawn up
close to it, were ranged three or four light wheeled-carriages, slightly
sloping to the front and not unlike costermongers' barrows. The top of each
was of sheet-iron, with rests for the head and arms of its ghastly burden.
One only was occupied, and a single glance was sufficient to show us that
its tenant was happily not the object of our search. The body was that of a
young man, from his costume apparently a mechanic, about three or
four-and-twenty, who had been killed by a blow on the forehead, on which
a terrible mark of a lurid crimson was visible. The eyes were open, and the
orbits around them suffused with blood. The attitude was that of a man who
has been thrown on his back by a sudden blow and is struggling to get up
again, the position of the arms and hands at the side and the sloping
position of the body favouring this supposition. The whole figure was
strangely lifelike, so much so, indeed, that it was difficult to believe one
was looking on a corpse. Probably the poor fellow had been struck down in
some quarrel, and had died where he fell, his slayer seeking safety in flight.
The continued exposure of the body in the Morgue proved that it had not
yet been identified.
Greatly relieved to find that poor Gimp had at any rate not found his way to
this asylum of violent death, we left the building, turning aside with a
shudder from the photographic horrors, portraits of unidentified victims,
which flank its gruesome portals. We deliberated for a few moments as to
our next move, and finally. decided to return home before making any
further inquiries, hoping against hope that something might have been
heard of the poor fellow in the interim.
On reaching the door of our appartement we were agreeably surprised to
hear sounds of laughter within, and on entering found the rest of our party
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assembled round-Gimp himself, with his spectacles as much askew as ever,
apparently not at all the worse for his temporary disappearance, and
recounting with great unction the history of his adventures.
He had extended his stroll, it seemed, rather farther than usual, and had
somehow missed his way back again. His endeavours to find it carried him
still further a-field, and the two or three persons to whom he addressed
himself for information unfortunately spoke no English. Meanwhile, time
went on, and Gimp, always a very respectable trencher-man, found himself
getting hungry. He knew that the charge for a dejeuner at one of our
customary restaurants was two francs only, for which modest sum we
always had soup, a couple of substantial dishes, and some cheese or fruit,
together with a half-bottle of vin ordinaire to each person, and he rashly
concluded that all Paris restaurants were conducted on the same economical
footing. He had two francs and some small change in his pocket, and with
that modest peculium he calmly proceeded to breakfast at a swell restaurant
on the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle. The remainder of the story shall be told
in his own words.
"I walked in, as bold as brass, and one o' them garsong chaps took my hat,
and another my old umbreller. 'You're mighty polite,' thinks I to myself;
'you've got a eye to the poorbore, already.' But I didn't mind, I know'd I'd
got a fairish lot of odd coppers as well as the two francs for the dejoony, so
I says 'All right, my lads, you look after me, and I'll look after you.' So with
that, I set myself down, and tucked the napkin under my chin, and give a
sort of a look round. It struck me somehow that the place was a cut above
them places in the Pally Ryle where we generally takes our dejoony. It was
in a kind of balcony over the bullyvard, and it was smarter like, and the
table-cloths was finer, and the garsongs was more like gentlemen's servants.
Presently, one of the garsongs brings me the bill of fare, and he says,
'Pottage, Mounseer?' like that. And I said, 'Oh, yes, pottage, of course.' And
then he said a lot more which I could'nt understand, but I guessed as he was
calling over the names of the soups, so I says, ' Wee,' at a venture, and
presently he brought me some soup. My word, it was prime! banged any
soup ever I tasted. Thinks I, this is a scrumptious place, I must tell the
governor and Mr. Hazard about this, and we'll come here every day.'!
"You didn't find out the name of the soup, I suppose, Gimp?" I inquired,
with an eye to future contingencies.
"I fancy the chap called it cressy, but there wasn't any cresses in it that I
could make out. But lor, you never do know what's in these here French
dishes. Well, while I was eating the soup another chap comes up with
another bill of fare, and he says, 'Van, mounseer?' I stared at him for a
minute, but at last I made out that he was asking what wine I would take,
and he names two or three sorts, and then he says something about
champagne. 'All right,' I says, ' I never did drink champagne, but there's no
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reason why I shouldn't that I know of, so, all right,' I says, 'I'm agreeable, as
long as you keep the right side o' two francs.'"
"But surely, Gimp," said the Professor, "you must have known that no
restaurant in the world could afford to give champagne with a two-franc
luncheon."
"That's what I thought myself, governor, and that's why I was so partickler
to tell him I wasn't going to spend more than two francs. Of course I
reckoned he would know his own business best."
"But he didn't understand you."
"That was his look-out. I'll take my davy I didn't understand him, so there
we was quits. However, he bows quite polite, and presently he brings a big
bottle of champagne, a sweet, fizzy kind of stuff that goes off 'pop' just
under the bridge of your nose, and takes your breath away like. It ain't bad,
mind you, but not a patch upon a good glass o' beer. Well, by that time I
had finished my pottage, and the other chap he came back and began
another yarn, which I reckoned was about what I would have next, and he
finishes up by saying something about poison, only he said it in the French
way, through his nose. 'No thankye,' I said, 'if there's any of that about, I'm
glad you cautioned me. I'll stick to sartainties,' I says, 'bring me a biftek o'
pumms.' I brought that out quite natural, just like a Frenchman. He nodded,
looking quite pleased-like to find I could speak French, and after a little
while he brought me the most beautifullest rump-steak, done to a turn, and
lor, the taters, they was goloptious. Fried to just a pretty brown, the colour
of Missie's hair, and blowed out like soap bubbles, and that crisp you might
a blow'd 'em away."
"Why, Gimp," said Mrs. Vosper, "you are getting quite poetical."
"Ay, mum; an' I feel poetrical when I think o' them pumms. But that worn't
all. When I had finished the steak the same chap came parleyvooing and
pantomiming again, so I thinks to myself, ' Well, if you can cook a biftek
like that, your graddle ought to be scrumptious.' So I cut him short.
'Graddle,' I says, 'What?' says he, only in French, of course. 'Graddle,' I says
again. I saw he looked puzzled, so thinks I, 'perhaps I ain't got the accent
quite to rights. So I tried him with griddle, and groddle, and gruddle; but
none of 'em didn't seem to do, and at last I give it up. There was a
gentleman at the next table pitching into some dish that smelt uncommon
good, so I jerks my thumb that way. 'I'll take some o' that,' I says. The
garsong nodded, and presently he came back with a dish o' the same sort,
and my word, it was beautiful. It was fish o' some sort-sole, I fancy, with a
rich kind of a sauce, and mussels and shrimps a swimming in it, and with
that and the champagne I began to feel more poetrical-like than ever. By the
time I had finished that lot I didn't seem to want much more; but the chap
came cavorting round me again with his blessed bill of fare. ' What, again?'
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I says; ' Blow me if I know how you can do it for two francs.' But he only
bowed and smiled, and I just pointed out some name at a venture, and he
brings me a plate of French beans. 'You're a day after the fair, my fine
feller,' I says, 'you might ha' brought me these here with the biftek and the
pumms.' But he only bowed and smiled, and brings me the bill o' fare again.
I was beginning to feel as if I'd had enough, but I thinks to myself, 'well, I'll
chance it once more.' So I sticks my thumb on something else in the bill,
and blow me if he didn't bring me a dandelion salad. 'Look here,' I says, ' I
can't eat this, least, ways not by itself. D'ye think I'm a rabbit?' I says, 'let's
have some cheese.' With that he grimaced some more, quite friendly, but he
didn't bring any cheese. 'Cheese,' I says, but he didn't seem to understand.
'Cheese!' I says, louder still. And with that another garsong whispers
something to him, and he says, ' Wee, frummage.' But I says, 'No, I won't
have any frummage. I want CHEESE!' regular shouting at him, for I was
beginning to get a bit aggravated, and I didn't see why I should be put off
with something different. When they saw I wouldn't stand any nonsense
they brought me some cheese, nasty soft stuff, but it helped the salad down;
and after that I had some coffee, with a nip o' brandy in it, and I was just
thinking to myself that I had made an uncommon good dejoony, and
wondering whether it'ud be the ticket to light my pipe, when somehow or
other I fell asleep. I couldn't have had more than forty winks or so, but
when I woke up all the company was gone, and the garsongs was standing
with their napkins in their hands a looking at me, and on the table was a
silver salver with a little bit o' paper on it; but I didn't take much heed o'
that. I pulls out my old silver watch, and I saw it was half-past three. 'Time
to be going,' I says to myself, and I calls the waiter, and gives him two
francs, and three pence for himself, as he'd been rather extra attentive, but
he didn't seem to understand it. He didn't take up the money, but shook his
head, and pointed to the little bit of paper. It had something about Margery
at the top, and I made out it was a bill. I couldn't make out the items, but it
totted up to seventeen francs and something over. 'What's this?' I said.
'Addition,' says he. 'Oh, yes, there's plenty of addition about it,' I says, 'but
what's it got to do with me?' 'Addition,' he says, again; 'beel.' 'Yes, I see it's
a bill right enough,' I says, ' but I ain't going to pay it. I told you all along,' I
says, 'to keep on the right side of two francs, an' if you've made me outrun
the constable that's your look-out,' I says, and I shoves the two francs under
his nose again. And then there was a deuce of a row. I couldn't understand
their French, and they couldn't understand my English, and presently they
fetches one o' them chaps in the cocked hats, and he jabbered a lot in
French, and I give it him back in English, but we didn't seem to come to no
understanding, and presently he puts his hand on my collar, and I found I
was run in. They locked me up all night in a place they called the violin,
though devil a bit of a fiddle did I see there. And this morning I was had up
before some kind of a beak, and luckily for me he could speak a little
English-not to say good English, but enough to swear by. And I told him
where I lived and how it all happened; and the end of it was, he said he
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would let me go, but I should have to pay the money. And he called another
of them sirjohns with the cocked hats, and he brought me here, and the
missus has just bailed me out."
"Bailed him out," said the Professor. "Is that so, Linda?"
"Not exactly," said Mrs. Vosper; "but I have had to pay his dinner-bill,
amounting to seventeen francs and seventy-five centimes. Not a bad lunch
for a single man, I think. The old epicure went to a place called Marguery's,
it seems, which the policeman tells me is one of the very best restaurants in
Paris."
"Well," said the Professor, "all's well that ends well. I'm glad it's no worse.
But I'm afraid Gimp's constitution's shattered He hasn't quoted Shakespeare
once during the whole story."
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XXI
The Gingerbread Fair--A Trip by Rail--Merry-Go-Rounds
Extraordinary--Sea on Land--A Montagne Russe--The
Shooting-Galleries--The Encyclopedie Methodique--The Tonquinese Dwarf
and the Fair Cleopatra.
G
IMP'S little escapade formed the leading topic of conversation for a
couple of days, after which it was lost sight of in the general excitement
attending the opening of the Fair. I found that the Professor was fully
justified in what he said about the vast difference between an English fair
and a French one.
The Foire aux Pains d'Epice is held on an open space on the eastern side of
Paris, covering several acres, and known formerly as the Place du Trone,
but now (thrones being for the moment unfashionable in France) as the
Place de la Nation. This space, however, large as it is, would be utterly
inadequate to the requirements of the fair, whose booths and shows are
numbered literally by hundreds. From the Place de la Nation radiate several
broad, open thoroughfares-the Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine, the Boulevard
Diderot, Boulevard Voltaire, and Cours de Vincennes. These are of great
width, fringed with spreading trees on either side, and along each of these,
for half or three-quarters of a mile, the lines of booths extend. The larger
shows are erected in the Place de la Nation and the Cours de Vincennes,
and when illuminated at night the effect is positively dazzling in its
brilliancy, the blaze of light and colour suggesting the amalgamated
transformation scenes of a dozen pantomimes.
One of the attractions on the present occasion was a circular railway, the
train consisting of nine carriages, accommodating eight persons in each,
and drawn by a genuine locomotive. There was a station whereat to take the
tickets, and a tunnel for the train to pass under on its way. In this and
several other instances the capital sunk in the concern must have
represented many hundreds of pounds. There were merry-go-rounds on a
scale unheard of in the annals of English fairs. Some of them were two
storeys high, with circles of horses three deep on each storey, and lighted
up at night with a couple of hundred gasburners, each with its opal globe. In
France, by the way, the merry-go-round, or carrousel, as it is called, is by
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no means regarded as a mere amusement for children. Comely maidens and
buxom matrons, nay, even middle-aged Frenchmen, broad of girth and
protuberant of stomach, think it no shame to mount the mimic chargers, and
"madly urge their wild career" round the ring, to the inspiring music of the
"orchestra." And such an orchestra! Sometimes it consists of a wheezy
organ, sometimes of an equally wheezy band of brass instruments; but, in
any case, what it lacks in melody is made up in noise, and the noise so
created is considered an important contribution to the "fun of the fair." In
the course of my chequered existence I have heard many varieties of
"music," even to the Javanese Gamelang and a tin on a rosined string, but
for downright fiendishness of discord I should be inclined to give the palm
to the orchestra of a French merry-go-round. The effect is heightened by the
fact that just within earshot on either side a similar instrument of torture is
playing a different tune with equal energy.
In another form of merry-go-round there are no horses. The actors in this
case stand in couples, generally lady and gentleman, each grasping an
upright brass pillar, extending from floor to ceiling of the machine. As the
circle revolves, a smaller circle, cut out of the flooring, and having the brass
pillar for its axis, turns also, so that each couple moves round and round its
own particular pillar with a sort of waltzing movement, pretty enough to the
beholder, though I should think rather vertiginous to the parties
immediately concerned. The movements of the Mer sur Terre, or "Sea on
Land," must be even more trying. Here six good-sized yachts, with sails
complete, are carried round the circle, each pitching fore and aft, and
heaving up and down in the most painfully realistic manner. Each boat
carries ten or a dozen passengers, to whom certainly ought to be added a
steward and stewardess, with the usual professional appliances. To
complete the illusion the affair is worked by a steam-engine in the centre,
so that the fortunate passengers have without extra charge the genuine smell
of the steam and of the fragrant oil used to lubricate the machinery.
In another portion of the fair was a Montagne Russe, or Inclined Railway.
The car in this case rushes violently down a steep incline, and by the force
of its impetus is carried up another, returning the same way. The speed with
which it travels is alarming even to mere spectators, but to enhance the
sensation the car is made to spin round rapidly on its own axis during its
flight.
For persons who were less in love with danger, but yearned for violent
exercise, there was another form of merry-go-round, mounted (instead of
horses) with bicycles, solidly fixed in their places in the circle, the riders
themselves supplying the motive power. Each rider seemed to work his
hardest, and the speed at which they managed to send the machine flying
round was something almost incredible. Another "bicycle" merry-go-round
was constructed after the fashion of the "race-game" so popular at
Continental kursaals, the riders travelling in concentric circles, to the
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accompaniment of the demoniac "orchestra."
The Tir or shooting-gallery is one of the most popular forms of amusement
at all French merry-makings, and a considerable amount of ingenuity is
expended in procuring objects at once inexpensive and attractive for the
marksman to shoot at. At one gallery the display was zoological. The noble
sportsman could enjoy for a nominal consideration (and in perfect safety) a
shot at the most ferocious beasts of the forest. The lion, the tiger, and the
rhinoceros spread their respective broadsides to his aim, and if he hit them
in a vital part (indicated by a neat bull's eye placed on the spot) his prowess
was rewarded by the gift of half-a-dozen macaroons. In another gallery the
choice of the marksman lay between a very large and a very small soldier,
the bull's eye in each case being placed (uncomfortable thought) just in the
pit of the stomach. In others, the marksman took his choice of aiming at any
one of a number of suspended tobacco pipes, hanging so as to form neat
and appropriate designs, and at once indicating, by flying to smithereens,
when the shooter succeeded in hitting one of them. A prettier, but more
difficult mark, was a white ball, or a blown egg, dancing in front of a dark
background on the top of the jet of a fountain.
I pass over the wild-beast and other curiosity shows, which were neither
better nor worse than we find at fairs in England. Of more original character
was a show with the somewhat comprehensive title of the Encyclopedie
Methodique, a collection of working models, all in motion. Here might be
seen ships tossed on a stormy sea, divers at work at the bottom of the ocean,
a factory with workmen of every description in full activity, side by side
with a kermesse or country fair, at which wrestlers, jugglers, rope-dancers,
and out-door performers of all kinds exhibited their feats of strength or
agility. Beside these greater marvels it seems hardly worth while to mention
a "Velocipediste-Sportmann," an automaton swimmer, the electric drum, or
the celebrated Blondin crossing Niagara on his bicycle. The prospectus of
this show was in itself a curiosity. The proprietor, who evidently thought, in
popular phrase, no small beer of himself, after a few introductory remarks
about the dignity of labour and doing honour to the intelligent worker,
proceeded:-
"A man need have some courage to offer, amid the humours of a fair, and
musical tempests running loose, a serious exhibition. I AM THAT MAN!"*
(* "C'est risquer gros jeu que de presenter au milieu des extravagances
foraines, de ce dechainement de tempetes musicales, une exposition
serieuse. J'ai cette audace!")
The phrase "musical tempests" as applied to the orchestra of the
merry-go-rounds appeared to me particularly happy. An adjoining booth
advertised itself as the Theatre d'Attractions du Nain Tonkinois. The
Tonquinese Dwarf, according to the prospectus, was especially remarkable
by his smallness of stature. He was eighteen years of age, and only
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seventy-two centimetres (twenty-eight inches) high. The Tonquinese
Dwarf, however, was not the only attraction. A lady named Cleopatra was
advertised to appear with him, and to perform some magical experiments of
a novel and amusing character. Need I say that I paid an early visit to the
Tonquinese Dwarf and his lady associate, even being guilty of the
extravagance of paying thirty centimes for a front place. Of the Tonquinese
Dwarf I will only say that he looked remarkably young for his age. We
were informed that he would dance and sing a la mode de son pays, which
he did accordingly, suggesting the reflection that the manners and language
of Tonquin were curiously like those of Belleville, but nobody seemed to
mind. Whether the dwarf was a good specimen of Tonquinese I will not
attempt to decide, not being a judge of the article, but as a dwarf he was not
particularly striking, and I waited with anxiety for the appearance of the
lady conjurer, or conjuress. I cannot say that she was by any means the best
conjurer I have ever seen, but she was certainly the fattest. She was a
handsome woman of about eight-and-twenty. She was elegantly attired in
silk tights and a spangled tunic, remarkably short in front, but (from
motives of delicacy, I presume) wore a flowing train behind. She performed
a few very simple tricks, and then made a collection (for her marriage
portion, it was hinted) with a bag at the end of a long stick. A similar bag
and a corresponding stick seemed, by the way, to be part of the
stock-in-trade of most of the booths giving a "variety" performance; the
performer, after finishing his or her turn, regularly coming round among the
audience on what the Professor facetiously described as a "centimental"
journey.
Our own theatre was established in the Cours de Vincennes, where the
majority of the more important shows were situated. Free use was made not
only of gas, but of the electric light, and the scene at night here was
extremely brilliant. The noise was considerable, but all was thoroughly
good humoured, and anything approaching intoxication was conspicuous by
its absence. The vendors of the gingerbread, from which the fair takes its
name, and of the thousand and one other knicknacks which are offered on
such occasions, had taken up their positions in the minor arteries of the fair,
and here the row was positively deafening.
Of our own performance I need not speak at any length. But for the fact of
its taking place in a portable theatre, and of the two clowns making a
tremendous din outside to call attention to the show and to induce people to
enter, there was not much to distinguish it from our ordinary provincial
performances. The fair lasted three weeks, and at the close the Professor
expressed himself very well satisfied with the result. I myself had
thoroughly enjoyed it, partly for the novelty of the experience, and partly
for the opportunity it afforded me of becoming acquainted with the
beautiful city of Paris. I have visited it many a time since then, but have
never enjoyed it half so much as I did in my early Bohemian experience in
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the Cours de Vincennes.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XXII.
A Spiritualistic Seance--Harmonising the Influences--Too Much
Light--Remarkable Manifestations--The Sceptical Doctor--The Professor
open to Conviction--The Third Sitting--A Sudden
Illumination--Discomfiture of the Medium--"How it was
Done"--Supplementary Revelations.
T
HE Gingerbread Fair was over, but we still remained in Paris. The
Professor had been offered a temporary engagement, occupying about half
an hour every evening, at the Cirque d'Hiver, or Winter Circus, and with
this and sundry private engagements we were doing fairly well. For my
own part, I found life in the Gay City so pleasant that I was in no haste
whatever to leave it, and was willing enough that the existing condition of
things should be prolonged indefinitely.
The Professor had just concluded his "turn" at the Cirque d'Hiver one
evening, and we were putting away the few articles of apparatus which had
been used, when we were informed by one of the attendants that an English
gentleman wished to say a few words to Professor Vosper. He was
admitted, and introduced himself as Sir Reginald Thompson. After a few
complimentary remarks upon the excellence of the performance, he
continued:-
"I came in this evening quite as a casual spectator, but while witnessing
your performance it struck me that, if you were willing, you would be the
very man to assist me in a little investigation I have in hand. I and some
half-dozen friends have been 'sitting' with a spirit medium here, and have
been a good deal puzzled with what we have seen. Most of my friends
believe that the phenomena are genuine. Personally, I don't know what to
think, but I rather suspect we are being humbugged, and I should greatly
like to get some clear proof one way or the other. I believe I am pretty wide
awake, and I have kept a sharp look-out, but though I suspect fraud I can't
prove it."
"Is it a light or a dark seance?" asked the Professor.
"The seances are held in darkness, sometimes partial, sometimes total, and
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all present are pledged not to break the circle or to strike a light, which, of
course, makes detection very difficult. However, with your professional
knowledge, you might be able to devise some satisfactory test. In any case,
I should like you to be present at a seance, and I should be happy to pay a
handsome fee for your trouble."
"I am quite willing," said the Professor. "But a single sitting would be of
very little use. And mind, I cannot at all guarantee that I shall discover the
fraud, even if any such is practised. It must be a poor trick that is
discoverable off-hand, and the conditions you name, though to my mind
they in themselves raise a strong suspicion of fraud, of course greatly
diminish the chance of detecting it."
"That I quite understand; I don't ask you to guarantee any result. All I ask is
that you will give me the benefit of your professional knowledge and your
candid opinion of what you may see."
"Upon that understanding I shall be very happy to give you any assistance
in my power. I should like, if possible, to have at least three sittings; I
should also like my assistant Mr. Hazard, to be present, if you have no
objection.
This last request was occasioned by sundry telegraphic signals which I had
been making behind the back of the visitor.
"By all means," said Sir Reginald. "But, now I come to think of it, you have
been in Paris some time, and it is not unlikely that our medium, Mr. Cargill,
may have witnessed your performance, and may know you again."
"That is not impossible," said Vosper, "and if a medium is aware that a
professional conjurer is present the manifestations are apt to dry up in a
most unaccountable manner. We had better come incognito. We shall have
no difficulty in disguising our identity sufficiently to pass muster. Please
consider, for the time being, that my name is Wilkinson and my assistant's
Paulett. We are acquaintances of yours, but strangers to each other. I must
ask you, by the way, to make the meetings tolerably late in the evening.
'Our turn' here lasts till nine, and you must allow us half an hour to make
our arrangements and reach the place of meeting."
"By all means," said Sir Reginald. "I will make an appointment for the first
meeting at once, and let you know by letter what is decided on."
Accordingly, two days later, a note came to hand from Sir Reginald,
informing us that he had appointed the following Monday, at his own
rooms in the Avenue de l'Opera for the first meeting.
Mrs. Carrick's talent in "make-up" had been employed to good purpose on
our behalf, and few would have recognised in the full-bearded Mr.
Wilkinson the smooth-shaven Professor Vosper, or in the
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elegantly-moustached Mr. Paulett his still smoother assistant, Dick Hazard.
We arrived separately, and were formally introduced to each other and the
company by our host. The persons present, other than the medium, were
Major Marjoribanks, a tall, military-looking man; a Mr. Tozer, a florid,
loud-voiced gentleman, who looked like a country squire; a thin, pale
young man, who was introduced as Mr. Vincent; an American gentleman
named Padbury and his wife, and a Dr. Seward, a middle-aged man, with a
slight cast in one eye, and very black hair and moustache. The medium, Mr.
Cargill, was a young man of short build and somewhat heavy appearance,
and spoke with a slight American accent. A second lady, who was
introduced to us as Miss Musgrave, was also present.
There was a large loo-table in the room. We sat around it, our hands laid
flat upon it and our little fingers crossing those of our next neighbours. A
guitar, a musical box, and a couple of tambourines were laid in the centre.
"These gentlemen are aware of the conditions, and accept them, I
presume?" said the medium, addressing Sir Reginald. "That no one is to
strike a light or break the circle?" said the supposed Mr. Wilkinson.
"Certainly; that is always understood." "And the other gentleman?" asked
the medium. Taking my cue from the Professor, I expressed my willingness
to be bound by the same conditions. The gas was turned down to the point
of "darkness visible," and we waited in expectation, the medium sitting
between Dr. Seward, on the one side, and Mrs. Padbury, on the other. Miss
Musgrave sat on the opposite side of Dr. Seward; I was placed between Sir
Reginald and Mr. Padbury, and the Professor between Mrs. Padbury and
Mr. Vincent. For some time we sat without any result, when the medium
suggested that it might be as well to have a little singing, in order to
harmonise the influences. There was a little diffidence as to who should
lead, but Miss Musgrave finally began, in a voice like the bleat of an
asthmatic lamb, "Hand in hand with angels," which was forthwith taken up
by the rest of the company. I cannot say that in a musical sense it was a
very successful performance; indeed, it brought to my mind so forcibly
Goles and his broken-winded concertina that it was with the utmost
difficulty that I refrained from scandalising the company by laughing aloud.
Happily I managed to control my emotions, and presently the medium was
seized with one of those convulsive wriggles which are considered to be
indicative of spirit presence. "Are you here, dear spirits?" asked the timid
voice of Miss Musgrave. The table tilted three times, being the
conventional signal for "Yes." "Are the conditions favourable?" was asked,
to which the reply was a single knock, indicating a negative. "Can we
improve them?" "Yes." "Are we wrongly seated?" "No." "Have we too
much light?" "Yes."
The gas was now turned out altogether, "Mr. Wilkinson" taking upon
himself this service. This done, the seance began to grow much livelier. The
guitar appeared to float about over our heads, the strings being meanwhile
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strummed by some invisible hand. The tambourines also appeared to float
about, the "jingles" making a merry rattling as they flew over our heads. A
beautiful luminous star appeared high above the table; the musical box
spontaneously began to play "Home, Sweet Home"; a hand pinched my
cheek in a playful manner, and others of the company also declared that
spirit-hands had touched them. My own feeling was one of profound
thankfulness that the spirit had not chanced to get hold of my moustache,
which would in all probability have come off in his hand, and thereby
occasioned me serious embarrassment. After some twenty minutes or
thereabouts of this kind of thing, three loud knocks came without any
question having been asked; and it was remarked by the initiated that that
was the spirits' "good-night," and that it was useless to expect any more
manifestations. Accordingly the gas was lighted, and I found the most of
those present considered that we had had a very successful seance. The
majority were evidently believers; the exceptions being Sir Reginald, who
declined to express any opinion, Major Majoribanks, who was politely
incredulous, and Dr. Seward, who was still more outspoken in his
scepticism, and declared that it would take a great deal more than he had
seen hitherto before he should be induced to believe in it. "Why couldn't the
same effects," he asked, "be produced in broad daylight? There would be
some sense in that." The medium reminded him that there are well
ascertained physical phenomena, as for instance in the case of photography,
for which darkness is equally essential. The Doctor was still unconvinced,
and a little ungentlemanly, I thought, in his manner of expressing his
scepticism. At last the medium, showing a shade of annoyance, said, "Well,
sir, if what you have seen does not satisfy you, I don't know what will. You
were seated next me, and you held my hand yourself." "One hand," said the
doctor, rather rudely. "Yes; I will undertake that you did not play any tricks
upon that side, but who is to answer for the other?" "I can," said Mrs.
Padbury, drawing herself up with dignity. "I ain't quite a fool. I reckon I
know well enough whether I'm squeezing a man's hand or not, and I tell
yeou that I never quitted hold of Mr. Cargill's hand the hull time."
"Humph!" said the Doctor, still evidently unconvinced. His scepticism was
so unpleasantly expressed, that the remainder of the company almost
unanimously took part against him, even the Professor remarking that, in
the face of such a decided assurance on the part of Mrs. Padbury, there was
really no more to be said. The company shortly afterwards broke up, the
Professor and myself still keeping up the fiction of being strangers to each
other, and walking off in different directions.
We breakfasted by invitation with Sir Reginald on the following morning.
Our host was extremely anxious to know what we thought of the previous
evening's manifestations, but the Professor was not to be drawn into a
premature expression of opinion. In reply, at last, to a point-blank question
on the subject, he said:-
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"Really, my dear sir, up to the present time I have not formed any definite
opinion on the subject. I warned you, as you may remember, that I expected
to derive very little information from a single sitting. What we saw last
night was curious, and at first sight inexplicable, but I should require very
much stronger evidence before I jumped to the conclusion that it was the
work of spirits."
"That is what Dr. Seward always says. But he seems just as much at a loss
as the rest of us to suggest any other explanation."
"Dr. Seward? Ah, that is the sceptical gentleman. How did you make his
acquaintance, by the way? Is he a personal friend of yours?"
"Well, hardly that. I had chanced to meet him once or twice at the Cafe
Anglais and Galignani's; and something or other came up which showed
that he was interested in spiritualism, and I invited him, or he invited
himself, I hardly know which, to one of our seances. He is a thorough
sceptic, as you have seen, and showed so much acuteness in devising tests,
and so on, that I have since invited him regularly to our meetings. In fact, I
have let him take pretty much the direction of the seances. But he carries
his scepticism a little too far, and occasionally is almost offensive, not only
to the medium, but to the rest of the company. I think, now that I have your
assistance, I shall drop him."
"No, don't do that, please; at any rate just at present. I would rather you
made as little change as possible in your circle. And the other members?
Excuse the question, but I want to understand precisely how far we can
depend upon them. Are they all personal friends of yours, or merely chance
acquaintances?"
"Mostly personal friends. Majoribanks and myself served in the same
regiment, and Tozer is almost my next-door neighbour in Worcestershire.
Miss Musgrave is his niece, and keeps house for him. Vincent is the son of
a very old friend of mine; Mr. and Mrs. Padbury are new acquaintances, but
they brought letters of introduction to me from a man who showed me great
hospitality a year or two back, when I visited the States, and of whom I
have a high opinion. They are not very refined, according to European
notions, but I believe thoroughly square and straightforward."
"Then we may assume, I suppose, that every member of the party is to be
trusted."
"Not a doubt of it, I should say. Whatever Cargill does he must do
single-handed, for I am quite sure he can have no confederates in our case,
and that is what bothers me. I am very reluctant to accept the 'spirit'
hypothesis, and yet I see no other explanation. I suppose, by the way, you
are an absolute unbeliever in such matters."
"Well, I think it is rather a dangerous thing to set bounds to possibility. The
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impossibility of one age is rather apt to become the accomplished fact of
the next. With regard to this spiritualistic question, I am fully persuaded
that nine-tenths of the so-called manifestations are utter rubbish. As to the
remaining tenth, men whose evidence I should feel bound to accept in any
other matter assure me that they have seen such and such things, apparently
supernatural, under circumstances which seem to preclude the possibility of
deception. What is one to say in such cases? It is poor logic to say, because
a man claims to have seen something that I haven't, that he must be either a
fool or a liar, which is the popular way of disposing of the matter.
"That looks as if you were half inclined to be a believer."
"By no means. I am quite willing to believe, on proof, but proof in my case
has never been attainable. I generally put the question, when anybody gives
me some startling account of apparently inexplicable phenomena, 'Would
you have believed it yourself if you had not seen it with your own eyes?' As
a rule the reply is 'No'; in which case it is obviously fair to retort, 'Then you
must excuse my not believing it till I have seen it also.'"
"And you have never been able to confirm such accounts by personal
observation?"
"Never. Either the so-called marvel, when I do come to see it, has shrivelled
down to something capable of a perfectly commonplace explanation, or, as
more frequently happens if a conjuror is known to be present, the spirits
decline to perform at all. There is not the smallest reason why they should,
so far as I am concerned, for as I have just told you, I am perfectly open to
conviction, if conviction were attainable."
"Perhaps you are destined to be convinced on this occasion," said Sir
Reginald. "At any rate your presence last night did not prevent the
manifestations."
"Mr. Wilkinson's presence did not," said the Professor with a quizzical
look. "But I am not so sure that Professor Vosper's would not have done so.
There is something in a name now and then, you may depend; Shakespeare
to the contrary notwithstanding. A conjurer by his professional name does
certainly not smell as sweet in spiritualistic circles."
Our second sitting took place a few evenings later, the same company being
present. The incidents were much the same as on the previous occasion. Dr.
Seward was again almost offensive in his incredulity. He insisted on
himself holding one hand of the medium, and suggested that Sir Reginald
should take charge of the other, which was done accordingly, though
without at all affecting the result, the manifestations taking place as before,
with some additions. For instance, a chair which had been standing outside
the circle was lifted on to the centre of the table. The musical-box played,
as before, and the guitar and tambourines repeated their gyrations over the
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heads of the party. Mysterious hands wandered about under the table and
twitched at the skirts and trouser-legs of the company. The manifestations
were really very surprising, and enhanced as they were in effect by the
lugubrious singing and the surrounding darkness, I myself almost began to
believe that there must be something supernatural about them, and I said as
much to the Professor as we walked home together. Vosper smiled.
"Reserve your opinion, my dear fellow, until after our next sitting."
I tried hard to make him say more, but could not. Fortunately I had not very
long to wait, for our third seance was to take place the next evening.
At the appointed time we met as usual, the party being the same, save that
Mr. and Mrs. Padbury chanced to be absent. The medium was placed
between the sceptical doctor on the one side, and Mr. Tozer on the other.
Sir Reginald as usual locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. The
Professor, as on the previous occasions, undertook the office of turning out
and re-lighting the gas. There was the usual preliminary singing, and
presently one of the tambourines was heard to rise from the table and
commence its buzzing flight over the heads of the company, the
musical-box began to play, and the luminous star made its appearance and
floated above the table. There was a general exclamation of satisfaction, for
on previous occasions it had taken much longer to produce these
manifestations, when suddenly, a bright light illumined the room, and
revealed-the sceptical doctor, no longer holding fast the left hand of the
medium, but holding the tambourine in his teeth and agitating it violently,
while with his own disengaged right hand he held a telescopic
fishing-rod-like apparatus at the upper end whereof dangled a star-shaped
piece of white cardboard. The medium's disengaged hand was grasping one
of the guitars on the table.
There was a scene of indescribable confusion. The first thought, I fancy,
with all present was as to the cause of the sudden illumination, which was
seen on examination to proceed from an incandescent electric light
suspended on the Professor's breast. The so-called Doctor made a dash at it,
but I caught his eye just in time to penetrate his design. As he sprang
forward I instinctively hit out at him and struck him heavily on the lower
jaw. He staggered and fell, and before he could pick himself up again,
Vosper had lighted the gas, and we were no longer dependent on the
electric illumination. The medium seemed dumbfounded, but his
confederate, finding it was hopeless to attempt to keep up the deception,
tried to carry it off with bluster.
"Open that door, Sir Reginald, or I will go to the window and call for the
police. Things have come to a pretty pass when an English baronet breaks
his pledged word, and hires pugilists to assault his visitors."
"What pledge have I broken, sir?" asked Sir Reginald, haughtily.
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"Your promise that the circle should not be broken, and that a light should
not be struck; but you or your accomplices have done both. So much for the
honour of an English gentleman!"
Sir Reginald was about to make an angry reply when the Professor
interposed. "If you will allow me, Sir Reginald, I will answer this fellow.
But first, Mr. Joseph Hayden, alias Dr. Semple, alias Dr. Seward, and
half-a-dozen more, let me recommend you not to be quite so glib in talking
about the police. We will call them in if you wish it, but in such case you
will probably leave in their company.
"I don't understand what you mean," said the soi-disant Doctor; but his
altered expression showed that he did understand, pretty clearly. The
Professor continued, addressing the company:-
"If you will allow me, gentlemen, I will explain all that has happened in a
very few words. As a matter of fact there has been no breach of faith
whatever. My name is Vosper, and I am a professional conjurer. My friend
Mr. Hazard and myself were asked by Sir Reginald Thompson to assist him
in testing the manifestations of Mr. Cargill. From the first I had my
suspicions of that sceptical gentleman there. I am rather sceptical myself,
but I don't say quite so much about it, and it struck me that Dr. Seward's
scepticism was a little too ungentlemanly to be natural. Further, it struck me
that Dr. Seward and I had met before. I remembered a certain Joe Hayden,
who was kicked out of a travelling circus for dishonesty, and afterwards
turned quack doctor, socialist lecturer, and billiard-sharper, and I fancied I
could perceive just at the roots of that blue-black moustache a touch of the
red bristles of Mr. Joseph Hayden. You can verify the fact for yourselves,
gentlemen, if you look at him closely. Putting this and that together, it
struck me that he was probably in league with the medium, and that his
scepticism was assumed to give a fair excuse for sitting next to him and
acting in concert with him. Of course, given the power of breaking the
circle, with one hand of the medium and one of his accomplice free, there is
nothing at all surprising in any of the 'manifestations' you have seen."
"But the star?" asked one of the party.
"The star was a little piece of cardboard besmeared with luminous paint,
and waved about at the end of a little apparatus like a telescopic
toasting-fork. You saw it in use just now, but Mr. Hayden has now returned
it to his pocket. The musical-box was the first thing that verified my
suspicion of fraud. At our first meeting, in examining it, I casually dropped
a pin into the works, so as to effectually stop its movement; but we had the
music notwithstanding, proving that it was actually produced by a second
musical-box, which will be found on the person of one of those gentlemen.
The guitar was waved about by their own hands in the dark, and knowing
that, I was enabled to set my little trap for their detection. I fastened an
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electric lamp here just inside my waistcoat, in conjunction with a battery in
my tail-pocket, but no light could be given without contact, and contact
could only be made by pulling this cord, which as you see ends in a loop.
When I stood up to turn out the gas I slipped the loop over the neck of the
guitar, and at the same time drew out the electric lamp and let it hang on my
breast. Then I joined hands with the rest of you. I knew that as soon as
those impostors began to handle the guitar they would pull the string and
make contact, which they did accordingly. It is they alone who have broken
the circle, and they alone who turned on the light which has led to their
discomfiture."
There was a general murmur of approval. The Professor continued:-
"I don't think you will feel much doubt as to the correctness of my
assertions, but if you please, Sir Reginald, we will make them a certainty by
searching those gentlemen on the spot. I pledge my reputation that you will
find on them the duplicate musical-box and the apparatus for producing the
luminous star. I will also ask you to take off their shoes, which, you will
observe, are of the "Oxford" shape, so as to be readily slipped off and on
again. You will find that one at least of them has his foot bare beneath the
shoe, so as to be able to use the toes for the purpose of pulling at ladies'
dresses and gentlemen's coat-tails under the table."
The two scoundrels strenuously resisted the proposed search, but on Sir
Reginald threatening, in the event of their noncompliance, to hand them
over at once to the police, they submitted, and the Professor's predictions
were fully verified. Both had the tip of each sock cut off, leaving the toes
bare to be used in quadrumanous fashion. A musical-box was found
strapped to the leg of the medium, inside the trouser, so as to be brought
either in front or behind the knee, as might be desired, and in the former
position to play upon pressure against the upper surface of the table. The
jointed metal rod and luminous star were found in the breast pocket of the
so-called Dr. Seward.
The search completed, Sir Reginald threw open the door "You are free to
go," he said to the convicted impostors. "I give you forty-eight hours' grace.
After that time I shall send an account of the whole affair to the police. If
you are wise you will have left France, for it will be too hot to hold you."
The accomplices sneaked out, only too glad to escape upon such terms.
When they had departed Sir Reginald said:-
"Professor Vosper, I owe you a sincere debt of gratitude for your invaluable
service in unmasking these scoundrels; you shall hear further from me in
the morning. But meanwhile there is just one thing puzzles me. I can
understand that when the person holding one hand of the medium is an
accomplice it is easy enough to do all that we have seen, but I have had one
or two sittings with Cargill when none but my own personal friends were
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present, and I know that there was no possibility of collusion. Yet even then
there were manifestations, not so decided, but still inexplicable, unless the
medium could get one hand loose."
"He does get one hand loose," said the Professor. "Under cover of the
darkness, and of his convulsive shiverings, he moves his two hands nearer
and nearer together. Those on either side naturally follow them. Finally,
with an extra violent shiver, he jerks away one hand altogether. The person
guarding it follows it up instantly, and crosses little fingers as before, or
rather he thinks he does, for in reality his own little finger comes down
across the outstretched first finger of the medium's other hand. The medium
has therefore two persons mounting guard over one of his hands (one over
the little finger and the other the first finger), while the other hand is free to
rattle tambourines, pull hair, tweak noses, &c. If two of you gentlemen will
take a seat, one on each side of me, and cross little fingers, as we have done
throughout the sittings, I will show you the method, though of course it
would only be deceptive in darkness."
This was done. The Professor gradually got both hands nearer together,
then freed one of them, leaving his neighbours mounting guard over the
remaining hand.
"That removes my only difficulty," said Sir Reginald. "I remember, now
that it is recalled to me, that precisely the same sort of thing did take place
on the occasions I have referred to."
Shortly after this the company separated. The Professor received on the
following day a highly complimentary letter of thanks from Sir Reginald,
enclosing a cheque for fifty guineas, and so ended my first and last
adventure in the World of Spirits.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XXIII.
Departure from Paris--A Round of Watering-Places--The Professor going
to the Bad--Lily--Hopes and Fears--A Terrible Verdict--Returning to
Brighton--The Beginning of the End--A Last Promise--Lily's Legacy--Dust
to Dust--A Faithful Friend.
W
E DID not long remain in Paris after the incident related in my last
chapter, but after an interval of a few weeks, started upon a professional
tour, embracing Boulogne, Dieppe, Trouville, and other watering-places on
the French coast. We met with varying fortunes, sometimes being very well
supported, while at others, without any apparent reason for the difference,
there seemed to be a lack of public interest, and nothing that we could do
would attract good houses. I continued to be on the best of terms with the
Professor and his family, and my pecuniary position was considerably
improved, but we were hardly so merry a company as of yore, and Mrs.
Vosper's face had begun to wear a Saddened expression, very different from
its former bright happy look. She had two causes of anxiety; first, that the
habit of strong drink was obviously growing upon her husband. He was
now rarely satisfied with his single glass of grog at night, and it was by no
means an uncommon occurrence for him to go to bed completely
intoxicated. As might naturally be expected, the effect of his over-night
indulgence made itself felt the next morning. He rose with aching head and
fevered tongue, could eat little or no breakfast, and did not completely
recover himself until he had taken the proverbial "hair of the dog that bit
him," in the shape of a morning dram to steady his nerves.
Mrs. Vosper made no complaint, and screened him as much as she possibly
could, but it was clear that his irregularities were a constant grief to her. She
had a second cause of anxiety in the health of Lily, who for some months
past had been visibly ailing. She did not complain of any pain, and there
was no sign of any specific malady, but the child daily grew paler and paler,
with an almost transparent whiteness of skin, and seemed to have no
strength for even the smallest exertion. She would spend hours curled up in
one corner of a sofa, her faithful dog lying by her side, and one little thin
white hand resting round his neck. Her beloved hymn-book was never very
far away, but for the most part it lay unopened at her side, even the exertion
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of reading being too much for her enfeebled condition. She had by no
means lost her old love for her favourites, and when alone she might often
be heard singing them to herself, but in so low and faint a voice that it
seemed rather like some elfin echo than the song of a mortal maiden.
At first her parents had not thought very seriously of her condition. They
fancied that she had simply outgrown her strength, and the doctors who
were called in-pleasant smooth-spoken gentlemen-generally contented
themselves with prescribing a course of tonics, fresh air, and perfect rest,
and did not suggest any doubt as to her ultimate recovery. Just before we
left Paris, however, as the child seemed to grow worse rather than better,
Mrs. Vosper decided to take her to a very eminent Physician. She came
back speaking as cheerfully as ever, but I shall never forget the look of
heart-break in her eyes. She controlled herself while Lily was with us, but
as soon as the child had been carried out of the room by her father and laid
on her own bed, she broke into a passion of weeping, and it was some time
before she could even tell us what had occurred. The great doctor had been
extremely kind, but the sum of his opinion was "no hope." He had talked
pleasantly and cheerfully to Lily, but had told her mother privately that the
late hours which the child had been compelled to keep, and the strain of
acquiring and using the complicated Clairvoyance Code, acting on a brain
of unusual sensibility, had done irreparable mischief. Lily was like a flower
broken at the stem, which tender care might keep alive for a little while, but
which must wither only too quickly. And with this dagger in her heart the
heroic little mother had ridden home with her stricken child, not a look or a
tone betraying her bitter knowledge, but doing her best to comfort and
cheer her. Even now, in the first flush of her grief and self-reproach,-for she
felt that amid less trying surroundings the cherished life might have been
spared,-she would not give way to a loud-voiced sorrow, but sobbed and
wrung her hands with a silent agony that was more touching than the most
passionate outburst. The outbreak was soon over, and ere a quarter of an
hour had passed, the brave little woman had dried her eyes and was
comforting the rest of us, and impressing on one and all the necessity for
Lily's sake of controlling our grief, and not alarming the child by any open
display of sorrow. She herself set a noble example in this particular. Many
and many a time I have wondered to hear her speaking in her usual cheery
tone, so brightly sometimes that it has even crossed my mind, "Can she
have forgotten?" But a moment later I caught her eyes resting on the child
unawares, and there was no forgetfulness there. "Truly, as I once heard a
great preacher say: there are crosses by the fireside as well as in the
Calvary, and martyrs by wounded affection not less than by sword and
flame."
Such was the position of affairs when our round of Continental
engagements came to an end. We crossed from Dieppe to Newhaven, being
favoured, happily with a tolerably smooth passage, and once more took up
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our quarters at Brighton, where the Professor had undertaken to give a
series of performances at the Aquarium. We hoped against hope that the
bright, bracing air might do Lily some good, but it was in vain. She was
visibly fading, the French doctor's comparison of the broken blossom
becoming daily more sadly appropriate. Mrs. Vosper was still as solicitous
as ever not to alarm the child by letting her suspect her critical condition;
but I could not help fancying that she already knew it. She showed no sign
of unhappiness or depression, but remained, as before, long hours together
curled up on her sofa, with Tip at her side, now and then crooning to herself
verse of some favourite hymn; and I noticed that she seemed to give the
preference to such as dealt with the life to come. Most frequently of all on
her lips was Faber's joyful aspiration:-
"O Paradise! O Paradise!
Who doth not crave for rest?
Who would not seek the happy land,
Where they that loved are blest?
"Where loyal hearts, and true,
Stand ever in the light,
All rapture through and through,
In God's most holy sight."
Whatever the choice of the moment, the key-note was the same; the
yearning of the waiting soul for the glories of the Better Land.
One day her mother chanced to say in my presence, with respect to some
arrangement for the future, "When Lily is well again." Lily looked at her
with a strange, wistful smile. "Mamma dear," she said, after a moment's
pause; "you don't really think I shall ever be well again, do you?" The
mother's lip quivered; she could not say "no," but she did not dare say
"yes." "Why not, darling?" she said, "you are very weak, but if you could
only gain a little strength-" "But I don't want to gain strength, mamma dear.
Of course I am grieved to leave you, and grandmamma, and poor papa, and
Dick, and my dear old doggie. I wish you could all come too, but, as that
can't be, I'm very happy as it is." "Why, darling, darling!" said her mother,
and then her long brave self-restraint broke down. The floodgates of her
grief gave way, and flinging herself on her knees beside her child's couch,
she wept as, happily, few women do weep, even in this world of tears. A
little white hand stole round her neck and softly fondled her hair, "Hush,
mother darling," said the child. "You must not grieve like that, or you will
make me think that I am going very far away. I like to think that I am only
going a little way before, and that some day soon, in a very few years,
perhaps, we shall all be together again. Don't cry, mother darling; don't cry,
my dear old Dick; it's all for the best. I don't think I should ever have been
very strong, or of much use in this world, and if you only won't grieve I am
perfectly willing to go. See, dear old Tip doesn't cry, and I think I am sorry
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for him most of all, because he won't understand."
But it seemed as if Tip, by some subtle sense, did understand. He stood on
his hind-legs and licked his little mistress's face. His tail wagged with a
sorrowful droop, and he uttered a plaintive whine, so sad, so unlike
ordinary dog-language, that it went to all our hearts. Lily laughed and
kissed the dog's sleek head, but her eyes filled, and a tear fell on his black
snub nose. This little interruption gave Mrs. Vosper time to recover her
self-control. She flung her arms round Lily, and said, "My darling, I will try
to say, 'God's will be done,' but don't speak so hopelessly."
The child's face brightened as she said, "It isn't hopelessly, mamma. Do you
know what I say to myself every night? 'A day's march nearer home.'"
From that day there was no longer any disguise as to Lily's condition.
Indeed her increasing weakness would soon have made any disguise
useless, even if the child's own hand had not so bravely lifted the veil. Soon
she ceased to be carried to the sofa, and remained propped up in bed by
pillows. Her faithful Tip still lay by her side night and day; indeed he could
hardly be induced to leave her for a moment, and whined and whimpered
complainingly unless he could feel her hand resting upon him. It became
daily more and more evident that the end was not far off. The Fairy
Violante's name was withdrawn from the bills, for Mrs. Vosper would not
spare a minute, if she could help it, from the bedside of her dying child.
There was no such respite for her husband. Men must work while women
weep. There were the daily necessities of the household to be provided for,
with the thousand-and-one additional calls which sickness creates, and as
each successive evening came round the Professor had to come up to time,
wand in hand and smile on lip, and crack his jokes and exhibit his dexterity
to amuse a careless crowd, while the shadow of death was hovering over his
household, and the life of his dearly loved child was ebbing fast away. And
yet he had never played better; never was his hand surer, or his jests more
glibly spoken. The Spartan boy, with the fox gnawing at his vitals, scarcely
endured a more cruel ordeal, or bore it with greater fortitude.
His first act, after the performance was over, was to hasten off to inquire the
last news of his dying child; his next, I grieve to say, to recruit his
over-taxed forces and to drown his sorrow in drink. Mrs. Vosper, who had
so deeply felt his earlier irregularities, now hardly seemed to notice his
excesses, the greater sorrow having for the time swallowed up all minor
troubles. On several occasions, however, I saw Lily herself watching him
with a sad, yearning gaze, and I felt sure that his intemperance was an
intense and constant grief to her.
From day to day Lily's weakness increased, and we felt that the end must be
drawing terribly near, when one Sunday morning, after Vosper had been
more than usually overcome by drink the night before, Lily surprised us all
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by saying she wanted to talk to papa alone; and for nearly an hour they
were alone together. What took place between them in that solemn hour is
only known to Him from whom no secrets are hid, but at its close the door
was opened, and the Professor asked us all to come in. His eyes were dry,
but red and swollen, like those of a man who has no more tears to shed.
"Lily has asked me to give her a promise," he said, "and I want you all to
witness it. From this day, God helping me, I will never touch strong drink
again!" "Thanks, darling papa," said Lily, holding out her arms to him, "you
have made me very, very happy. I don't think I could have died in peace if
you had not given me your promise." "And God help you to keep it, my
dear old man," said his wife, embracing him in turn; "we will think of it as
Lily's legacy. She could not leave us a better gift."
Tears stood in all our eyes, but the sick girl's face lighted up with a happy
smile, and she repeated "Yes, let it be Lily's legacy. And here is a legacy for
you, Dick. They were happy times, out on the Downs last summer, weren't
they, Dick? I want you to have my dear old hymn-book to remind you of
them."
I took the book and kissed the little hand that gave it, but my heart was too
full to speak. I knew that Lily would not have given away her cherished
companion until she felt that she had done with earthly things. And so it
proved. For the rest of the day she was only now and then conscious;
sometimes apparently dozing, sometimes lying with half-open eyes, and
babbling of music and flowers, and of a lovely river which seemed to
weave itself into her waking dreams. Sometimes she would murmur a line
or two of one of her favourites. Now and then she seemed to be in distress
because the continuation of a line had escaped her. If we were able to give
her the missing word she would smile contentedly, and go on for another
line or two, till she again sank into a doze, or drifted into a light-headed
dream.
And thus the day went on, we, the watchers, gathered round her bed, half
fearing, at each ebb or flow of consciousness, that the passing minute would
be her last. At last, a little before seven o'clock in the evening, as she lay
with the windows open, and the sound of the neighbouring church-bells
came in upon the evening air, after a longer than usual spell of drowsiness
she opened her eyes; we thought she was going to speak to us, but she
remained silent, and we could see that the mind was far away. For some
minutes she lay thus gazing into space, and a smile like a summer sunset
came into her sweet blue eyes. Then softly her eyelids closed, but her lips
moved once more, and breathed rather than spoke the words, "Peace,
perfect peace." And with those words of happy omen the wearied body
slept, and the freed soul took its upward flight into the perfect peace of
Heaven.
Three days later, we stood, a sorrowful company, in a little country
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churchyard not far from Brighton, and committed all that was left of Lily to
the earth. The sun was shining and the birds singing, as if to rebuke our
grief, but it was not to be restrained. Even to myself, though a stranger in
blood, it seemed for the time that in losing my little friend and playfellow, I
was losing all that made life desirable. The grief of the stricken parents who
shall measure? On the whole, Mrs. Vosper showed the most self-control.
Mrs. Carrick wept quietly but unceasingly. Vosper bore up bravely until the
coffin was lowered into the grave, and he heard the rattle of the earth upon
it, but then he broke down. "My little Lily! My one little Lily! I can't bear it.
Oh, Lily, Lily!" and his frame was agitated so violently by his sobs, that I
feared he would have fallen into the open grave. His wife put her hand
gently on his arm, and said through her own tears, "The Lord gave and the
Lord has taken away; we must try not to forget that, Jim. We shall go to
her, though she cannot come back to us. Come, Jim dear, be brave!" He
looked at her as if the words had no meaning, and sobbed again, "My little
Lily! O my little Lily!" The good old clergyman who had read the service
was touched with his grief, and there were tears in his own eyes as he said,
"Earth is full of partings, my dear friend; I too have a beloved daughter
lying in this churchyard. Try to remember that your great loss is your child's
far greater gain, and may God comfort you." "Come, Jim," said his wife,
putting her arm through his to lead him away, and we turned to quit the
churchyard, when there was a sorrowful wail from under Mrs. Vosper's
cloak. "What is that?" said the clergyman, in surprise, "a child?" "No, sir,"
said Mrs. Vosper, "only a dog, her dog."
Poor Tip had whined so piteously when the sad procession left the house,
and had so unmistakably entreated to be taken with us, that Mrs. Vosper
had not had the heart to leave him behind, but had carried him in her arms,
beneath her cloak, to the churchyard. Up to the present time he had
remained quiet enough, only now and then giving an almost human sob, but
he seemed to know somehow that we were leaving his beloved mistress
behind, and he struggled and whined to be left with her. With great
difficulty we succeeded in quieting him and taking him home. But not for
long. Scarcely had we reached our lodging when Tip was missing. We
rightly guessed where he would be found. I went in search of him, and
found him lying on the new-made grave. I took him home once more, and
we tried our best to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted, and the
next morning he was again missing. Again I sought and found him. A third
time the same thing happened, but this time the faithful heart beat no
longer. Tip lay, cold and still, true even in death to the dear mistress he had
loved so well.
Another new-made grave was close at hand, and the sexton's spade lay
beside it. With tender reverence I dug a little grave at Lily's feet and laid
poor Tip within it. Does Lily know it: who shall say? And if, as the poet
sings, "Love is Heaven and Heaven is Love," who shall say but in the great
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Hereafter there may be some place in the "many mansions" for these our
humble friends, who have neither toiled nor spun, but with whom Love has
been all in all?
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
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CHAPTER XXIV
A Stricken Household--A Gallant Struggle--Victory at Last--A Council of
War--Shall we go to America?--Hesitation--A Letter from the Major--The
Death of Uncle Bumpus--Attending the Funeral--The Reading of the
Will--Refusing a Legacy--A Family Conclave--Unexpected Revelations.
T
IME ran on, and events had fallen back into their accustomed groove so
far as our outward life was concerned, but the brightness of the household
had departed. Even Mrs. Vosper, formerly so light of heart, and to be heard
singing like a bird over her daily work, now went about grave and silent,
smiling once in a while, but with a smile that was almost sadder than tears.
Vosper was an altered man. The death of his child had been followed by an
illness of some weeks, during which I had had to take his place. His wife
nursed him through his illness and recovery with unremitting devotion. He
faithfully adhered to the promise given to his dying child, and had strictly
abstained from all intoxicating liquors, but it was unmistakably a severe
trial to him to do so. At no time, probably, could the struggle have been
greater. He felt instinctively, however, that the more intense the craving, the
more utter and complete would be his downfall if he were to give way to it.
What may have been his inward struggles who shall say? We who knew
him well saw the outward signs and tokens of the conflict, and could form
some notion how fierce it was. Happily, if the tempter was always at his
side, so also was his good angel, in the shape of his faithful little wife. She
herself, though no one could have had less need, had voluntarily taken the
total-abstinence pledge in order to help him, saying, with a glint of her old
bright humour, that what was "sauce for the gander" was "sauce for the
goose," and when she saw him more than ordinarily tried would remind
him, by some little tender allusion, of Lily, the thought of whom never
failed to give fresh strength to his good resolutions. Gradually the struggle
grew fainter and fainter. The devil so stoutly resisted fled at last. The loving
hands of the dead child and the living wife had led their champion past the
dangerous ground. The victory was won, the fatal thirst was conquered, and
Vosper was a free man once more.
The battle, however, had not been bloodless. When the Professor had
sufficiently recovered to resume his place on the platform he looked ten
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years older. His hair, formerly black as the raven's wing, was now
abundantly threaded with silver, and his bright geniality had fled. His
manner was as polished, his jests as witty, as of yore, but they lacked the
spontaneity, the merry humour that had given them life and colour, and had
won him the instant sympathy of his hearers. The change did not fail to tell
upon his audiences, which began to fall off seriously, both in point of
numbers and enthusiasm, with a corresponding decrease in the receipts.
Vosper himself was perfectly sensible of the alteration and of its cause, and
in a family council it was decided, on Mrs. Vosper's suggestion, to try a trip
to America. The little woman wisely fancied that an entire change of scene
and surroundings would be the most likely means of restoring tone to her
husband's mind, and that amid the inevitable excitements of a voyage and
of arranging for performances in a new country he would have at any rate a
better chance of forgetting, to some extent, the past sorrow, and of throwing
off the morbid condition of mind thereby occasioned.
As a matter of course I was invited to accompany the party, but I did not
jump at the proposal so readily as I should probably have done a year and a
half earlier. I quite agreed that the plan was the best that could be adopted
under the circumstances, but I felt that there was nothing to guarantee its
success, and if it was a failure I might be thrown, in a strange country, on
my own resources. I might have considerable difficulty in finding another
berth as assistant to a conjurer, and I could hardly expect at the age of
eighteen to take a more leading position, even if I had been possessed of the
capital to purchase the necessary "fit-up," and apparatus. Further, though it
is humiliating to have to make the confession, I did not regard conjuring, as
a profession, in quite such a rosy light as I had done at the commencement
of my experience. I had been fortunate in falling in with the Vospers, who
were high-minded and honourable people, with the instinctive
good-breeding which comes, not of education, but of kindliness and
unselfishness. Indeed, I never knew a couple who more worthily illustrated
the wholesome sentiment of the poet (written, by the way, before he had a
coronet of his own):-
"Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood."
But I had had occasion in my comparatively short experience to make the
acquaintance of a good many professional conjurers. Many of them were
the best of good fellows, but others left a good deal to be desired, both as to
refinement of manners and integrity of character. Further, I had seen in
Vosper's own case what a hard and fatiguing life that of a public performer
was; what a drain upon the vital energies it occasioned, and what a
temptation to supply that drain by recourse to an even more exhausting
remedy.
I had tasted and appreciated to the full the sweets of popular applause, and I
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had lost none of my love for conjuring in itself, but as a means of earning a
livelihood I could not but admit, in my own mind, that it was not quite all
that my fancy had painted it. I still regarded Uncle Bumpus' counting-house
with undiminished aversion, but, short of that dread alternative, I felt that I
would rather embrace the most prosaic of occupations than face the
uncertain future involved in a trip to America under present circumstances.
And yet I did not see any available alternative. I had been, ever since my
meeting with Mr. Vernon, in regular correspondence with my mother and
the Major, but I had always made a point in writing to them of putting the
best face possible upon my fortunes, and to have to confess that I had
changed my mind, and eat the "humble pie" which, far more often than
"fatted calf," is set before returning prodigals, was extremely distasteful to
me.
How the struggle would have ended I cannot say. I am inclined to think I
should have made up my mind to "chance" it and to go to America, when
an event occurred which materially altered my position. The first intimation
of the news came in a letter from the Major, which was to the following
effect:-
"My DEAR DICK,
"I am sorry to have to tell you that your Uncle Bumpus is dead. He fell
down two days ago in an apoplectic fit, and did not regain consciousness
until a short time before his death, which took place at seven o'clock
yesterday evening.
"The funeral will take place on Saturday, and it is your mother's desire that
you should if possible attend it; also Peter, if we can manage to get him
here in time. I heard yesterday that his ship had just arrived at Queenstown,
and have telegraphed him accordingly.
"After the funeral, your uncle's will will be read, and I am told by Mr.
Gregson, his solicitor, that you and Peter are materially interested in it,
which is an additional reason for your endeavourlng to be present.
"Your mother is greatly excited at the prospect of seeing you, and hopes
you will arrange to stay at home as long as possible.
Between ourselves, my dear boy, her health has not been good of late, and I
think you may be glad hereafter to have strained a point to please her.
"Ever your sincere friend,
"ARTHUR MANLY."
I showed this letter to the Professor, who gave me carte blanche to go as
soon as I thought necessary, but as I could not immediately procure a
deputy, and I would not put him to inconvenience by leaving till I had done
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so, I found it would be impossible to reach London save just in time for the
funeral. I wrote to the Major accordingly, and on my arrival in London,
drove direct to my uncle's house. Here I found assembled the Major, my
brother Peter, Mr. Dossett, an old friend of my uncle, his medical man, Dr.
Todd, and his solicitor, Mr. Gregson. It was two years since I had seen
Peter, who looked very well in his sailor costume, and about half as large
again, it seemed to me, as when I saw him last. I did not grudge him his
increased stature, but I must say I envied him his beard.
The funeral was a very imposing affair, having been arranged under the
personal supervision of Aunt Priscilla, and the refreshments were on a scale
which would have elicited an energetic remonstrance from Uncle Bumpus
himself, if he had been in a position to express an opinion. I made some
little complimentary remark to Aunt Priscilla on the lavishness of her
preparations. "Proper respect, my dear boy," she replied. "Only Proper
Respect. If your poor uncle shouldn't have it I'm sure I don't know who
should." And I am satisfied that the good soul, who was sincerely attached
to her brother, really thought that in some queer way she was paying a
complement to his memory by making the occasion a sort of feast in his
honour. My dear mother was present, dressed in the deepest of crape, but
slightly incoherent, her mind oscillating between regret,-half genuine and
half conventional-for the deceased, and a wholly genuine delight at having
both her wandering sons back with her. What with tears on the one hand
and smiles on the other; with recollections of how Uncle Bumpus had once
given her a pair of plated candlesticks; remarks on Peter's naval costume
and broadened shoulders, and expressions of satisfaction that I had not
adopted the hairdressing profession,-she ultimately got things so mixed that
it was almost a relief when it was time for the funeral procession to leave
the house. There were two mourning-carriages, with a profusion of nodding
plumes, and a perfect host of pages, mutes and other funeral satellites. The
Major, Peter, and myself, with Mr. Dossett, got into the first carriage, while
the two professional gentlemen rode in the second.
The ride to Highgate Cemetery was a long one, and conversation did not
flag on the way, but the only allusion to Uncle Bumpus was a remark from
his friend Dossett, to the effect that the old gentleman ought to "cut up
well," and that he "shouldn't wonder"-this with great unction-" if it turned
out to be a matter of twenty thousand." The service at the Cemetery was
performed with the solemnity appropriate to such an expensive funeral, and
then we all got into the carriages again, not a tear having been shed, or even
pretended to be shed, by any one during the entire proceedings. I could not
forbear contrasting the whole ceremony with that other far different funeral
in the little Sussex churchyard, and the rain of tears that watered our broken
Lily; and I wondered whether the good man now gone to his rest, amid
much respect but scant affection, might not have made a wiser use of life if
he had striven a little less to accumulate Money, and a little more to gather
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Love.
On our return to the house the blinds were drawn up, and after due justice
had been done to Aunt Priscilla's hospitable preparations, we assembled in
the drawing-room to hear the will read. Before the lawyer began, he said,
addressing my mother:-
"You have a servant, I think, called Jemima Jackett?"
"Yes," said my mother. "She came here to-day with me; she is at present
downstairs in the kitchen."
"She is mentioned in the will," said the lawyer, "and therefore she may as
well be present."
"Certainly," said my mother. "Dick, will you go and ask her to step up?"
I accordingly descended to the lower regions. Jemima's first proceeding was
to exclaim, "My dear senses, if it isn't Master Dick!" Her next was to upset
my dignity and rumple my shirtfront by giving me a good hug. I had taken
the same sort of thing as a compliment when I was smaller, but at my
present advanced age such an open demonstration of affection, particularly
in the presence of Aunt Priscilla's cook, was rather trying. However,
Jemima's intentions were so obviously honourable that I pocketed the
affront, and gave her my mother's message, that she was to come upstairs
and hear the reading of Uncle Bumpus' will. If I had told her that she was to
take instant command of the Channel Fleet, or that she was about to be tried
for burglary, she could have hardly have shown more surprise.
"Me!" she said, "me go upstairs along o' the Major, and the Doctor, and that
there lawyer chap! A-sittin' with my mouth open like a mazegerry pattick!*
(* A Cornish equivalent for "idiot.") Get along with you, Master Dick;
you'm poking fun at me!"
"I assure you it is not so, Jemima. From what Mr. Gregson said I imagine
that Uncle Bumpus himself wished you to be present."
"Then the more he wants me, the more I won't come, and so I tell 'ee. A
interferin' old-But, lor, poor man, he's dead and gone, and I won't say no
harm of him. But go upstairs I won't, and that's flat!"
And doubtless she would have persevered in her intention, but the party
upstairs getting, I presume, impatient, my mother herself came to the top of
the stairs, and called "Jemima, I want you." Being thus satisfied that she
really was wanted, and that I was not hoaxing her, she reluctantly followed
me, and took up her position, with a very red face and her hands rolled up
in her apron, on a chair behind the door.
As soon as we were seated, Mr. Gregson said, "You are called together,
ladies and gentlemen, to hear the will of our friend the late Peter Bumpus,
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which I will read accordingly," and he began as follows:-
"I, Peter Bumpus, of No. 501, Tottenham Court Road, hereby declare this to
be my last Will and Testament. I give and bequeath to my sister Priscilla an
annuity of (200 per annum, and to my niece Maria Hazard an annuity of
(100 per annum, for their respective natural lives. I bequeath to my
esteemed friends Sampson Dossett, Phineas Todd, M.D., and Gregory
Gregson Nineteen guineas each, to be expended in the purchase of
mourning rings. I bequeath to Jemima Jackett, in recognition of her many
years of faithful service to my niece Maria Hazard, the sum Of Fifty
pounds."
If a paving-stone had suddenly fallen on Jemima's head she could hardly
have looked more thunderstruck than by this last announcement. Her first
impression apparently was that she had not heard aright, but on my mother
giving her a nod and a smile, and thereby confirming the intelligence, she
threw her apron over her head, and began to weep violently, rocking herself
backwards and forwards. The lawyer looked towards her in a puzzled
manner, and proceeded:-
"And to Major Arthur Manly, if he shall consent to act as trustee in manner
and for the purposes hereinafter mentioned, the like sum of Fifty pounds.
The rest and residue of my property real and personal and of whatever
nature and kind soever, I bequeath to my sister Priscilla Bumpus and to
Major Arthur Manly before mentioned, their executors, administrators and
assigns, upon trust to convert the same (or such part thereof as shall not
already consist of money) into money, and invest the proceeds thereof in or
upon such stocks, funds and securities as are hereinafter mentioned. And to
accumulate the income to be produced therefrom until my two nephews
Peter Hazard and Richard Hazard shall attain the age of twenty-one years.
And if my said nephews shall by that time have abandoned the vagabond
lives they are at present leading, and shall have settled down to any
respectable form of commercial or professional life (of which facts my said
trustees shall be the sole judges), I declare that my said residuary estate
shall be held in trust for the use and benefit of my said nephews in equal
shares and proportions. Or if one only of my said nephews shall be found
willing to abide by the conditions of the bequest then for such nephew
alone. If neither shall be willing to abide by the terms of the bequest, then
and in that case I bequeath the whole of the said trust premises to the
Society for the Relief of Decayed Haberdashers."
The remainder of the will was merely formal, consisting chiefly of powers
to do sundry things (I can't say exactly what) in certain events (which I
didn't quite understand) and concluded by appointing the Major and Aunt
Priscilla Executor and Executrix.
The close attention of the Major, and his pleased nod when he caught a
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sentence, or part of a sentence, which he fancied he could understand were
sights to be seen. Jemima continued to sob audibly under her apron. Finally,
when the reading was completed, she removed the apron from her head and
rolled it round her two arms, then marched boldly up to the table where Mr.
Gregson was sitting, and said in a broken voice, "I can't take it. I won't take
it. Give it to the young gentlemen, mister. Just stick in a bit o' writin' to say
they're to have it. Do 'ee now, there's a good soul."
"Alter the testator's will!" said the lawyer in horror. "My good woman, it
can't be done."
"But I'm willin' of it, I tell 'ee. I don't want the old chap's money, and I
should like the young gentlemen to have it."
"You can do what you like with it afterwards, but the testator has given it to
you, and the gift must take its course."
"But he wouldn't ha' given it me if he'd a known. Why, my dear life, I ha'
called the old chap all the names I could put my tongue to."
"Not to his face, I suppose," said the Major. "I'm afraid we all get a little
abuse behind our backs at times. Look here, Jemima, Mr. Bumpus did not
leave you this legacy on account of any politeness to him. He says
expressly that it is a reward for your many years of faithful service to your
mistress, Mrs. Hazard, and all who know you will admit that that praise has
been fairly earned. Eh, Maria?"
"Yes, that it has," said my mother. "Jemima has been the most faithful and
devoted of friends, and I am sincerely glad of her good fortune."
"There, Jemima," said the Major, "you hear what your mistress says, and
we all thoroughly agree with her, so there is an end of the matter. Go
downstairs and wash your face, and say no more about it."
With any one else Jemima would have still argued the matter, but even her
unruly spirit was awed by the quiet Major. If Uncle Bumpus had heaped
literal instead of figurative coals of fire on her head she could hardly have
looked more uncomfortable or redder of countenance. Still sobbing that
"he'd never ha' done it if he'd a known," she descended to the lower regions;
and, as the newspaper reports say, tranquillity was restored.
The Major was the first to speak after her departure. "I don't profess to
understand much of what you have been reading, Mr. Gregson, but I gather
that, subject to certain conditions, these two young gentlemen are the
residuary legatees, and Miss Bumpus and myself are executors. May I ask if
you have any idea of the probable amount of the estate?"
"That I cannot yet answer with any accuracy," said Mr. Gregson. "But I
think yon may assume that the estate will not be under sixteen thousand
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pounds, and probably nearer eighteen. I shall be able to give you more
precise information in a week or two. The annuities will of course be a first
charge on the income."
"Quite so," said the Major. "And no definite decision is necessary on the
part of these young gentlemen, until they attain, or are about to attain, the
age of twenty-one. Is that so?"
"Quite correct," said Mr. Gregson.
"Very good," said the Major. "Then we have plenty of time before us. We
mustn't let in the Decayed Haberdashers if we can possibly help it."
A few days later Peter and I were invited to meet my mother and the Major
in a family conclave. The Major told me afterwards that he had purposely
avoided all discussion of the matter in the meantime, in order that Peter and
I might have an opportunity, of thinking quietly over the terms of Uncle
Bumpus' bequest, without any risk of our being irritated by good advice
into a foolish opposition. The reader may infer from this that the Major
considered us rather a pig-headed lot; and I think perhaps the extreme
delicacy with which he handled us is open to that interpretation. But he
never would admit it, and I therefore give myself the benefit of the doubt.
The reader, being in my confidence, knows, which the Major did not, that I
was beginning to be somewhat disillusioned as to the desirability of
conjuring as a means of livelihood, and not unwilling to welcome anything
which seemed to offer an honourable opening for escape from it. The
present position of affairs gave me just the opportunity I needed, and I
made up my mind at once to avail myself of it. In fact, I was in the position
of Mr. Gilbert's Curate, driven by threat of personal violence into the
commission of divers pleasant but unclerical actions:-
"For years I've longed for some
Excuse for this revulsion;
Now that excuse has come,
I do it on compulsion!"
My course was clear. I would give up conjuring (professionally speaking)
without a murmur, and settle down to some more prosaic and profitable
occupation, to be hereafter decided upon. But I felt for Peter. I felt very
much for Peter. I knew that he was so passionately attached to the sea that it
would be a terrible sacrifice to him to give it up, and yet he must do so to be
entitled to share in Uncle Bumpus' splendid gift. A happy thought struck
me. Peter should not give up the sea, and yet he should have his full share
of the fortune. If he insisted on sticking to the sea, I should become entitled
to the whole of the fortune, but I would share equally with him.
Accordingly, just before the projected meeting, I went to the Major and told
him my scheme. He heard me attentively, and nodded approval "Very good,
Dick, my boy, very good indeed. A very sensible and generous resolution.
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If Peter should insist on keeping to the sea we shall know how to deal with
the matter."
With this little private understanding established between myself and the
Major, we met in family conclave. The Major constituted himself chairman
of the meeting, and began as follows:-
"My dear Maria, and my dear Dick and Peter, we are met to discuss the
provisions of your uncle's will, which, as you are aware, gives a
considerable fortune to you two young gentlemen, conditionally on your
giving up your present occupations, and taking to what your late uncle
(rightly or wrongly) considered more genteel avocations. You, Maria, I
know, have felt some anxiety lest these young gentlemen, who have shown
a good deal of liking in the past for having their own way, should, in
popular language, 'cut off their noses to spite their faces,' by declining to
entertain any such change. It will be a relief to your mind, Maria" (I saw the
Major's eyes twinkle), "to know that my good friend Dick here has
expressed his willingness to meet the testator's wishes. Further, knowing his
brother's extreme devotion to the sea, he is willing, if Peter likes, to make a
title to the whole, leaving Peter free to follow his present profession, and
will then divide equally with him. This is a very sensible and brotherly
offer, and one which, I think you will agree with me, Maria, does equal
honour to his head and heart."
I felt that I was getting more praise than I deserved, and that I was bound to
interpose.
"It's really no credit to me, Major; I'm tired of the conjuring business."
The Major took no notice of the interruption, but proceeded, with a fresh
twinkle in his eye,-
"By a curious coincidence Peter has also come to me privately, and told me
in confidence that he has had enough of the sea, but if Dick wishes to stick
to the conjuring he will divide with Dick. Which is again very gratifying. In
any case I wouldn't give much for the chance of the Decayed
Haberdashers."
Peter and I looked at each other.
"You jolly old humbug!"
"You venerable old impostor!"
Whereupon we shook hands and laughed heartily. My mother muttered
something about "so very nice on both sides," and burst into tears. I didn't
know why she did so, and I don't think she quite knew herself, but we
understood that her emotion was in some sort a testimony of approval, and
accepted it accordingly.
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Matters having been thus settled to the satisfaction of all parties, I wrote to
the Professor, telling him of my altered fortunes and of the consequent
change in my intentions. I received in return a letter full of the warmest
congratulations. If my good fortune had befallen my kind friends
themselves they could hardly have rejoiced more sincerely over it. A
fortnight later I stood on the deck of the good ship Antiope, bound for New
York, to wish them farewell, and the word was hard to say on both sides.
They had made me so thoroughly one of themselves that it was more like
parting with beloved relatives than mere everyday friends, and the link of a
common sorrow, still fresh in all our hearts, had drawn me still closer to
them. There were tears in all our eyes when the moment came to say
"good-bye," and Mrs. Vosper threw her arms round my neck, and gave me
a motherly hug, saying with a sob, "God bless and keep you, Dick; it's like
losing Lily twice over, to have to say good-bye to you.
The Professor was hardly less moved. "God bless you, my dear boy," he
said, "you have been a true friend to us in a time of sad trouble, and we
sha'n't forget your kindness."
"Nor I yours," I returned, with emotion, "and I wish you, one and all, the
best of good fortune in the new country, and a speedy return to the old one."
The Professor shook his head sadly. "I don't know; I'm half afraid that, as
Gimp would say, 'Othello's occupation's gone.'"
Gimp himself, by the way, had volunteered to accompany the emigrants,
but his horror of the sea was so great that the Professor had declined to
accept his self-sacrifice, and had found him another berth in the old
country. The Duchess, of course, accompanied her daughter, and she too
was warm in her adieux, and in good wishes for my welfare.
I am glad to be able to record that Vosper's apprehensions proved
unfounded. The rest and fresh air of the voyage, acting on a constitution
already gaining strength by virtue of his altered habits, made a new man of
him before he landed in New York, and according to the latest news, he was
nightly drawing crowded houses, and the Fairy Violante was even more
popular than she had been on her native soil.
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Conjuror Dick
Prof. Hoffmann
L'ENVOI.
A
GOOD many years have elapsed since the events I have related. With
the Professor's departure from England I ceased all connection with magic
as a profession, my performances having since that time been limited to
occasional exhibitions en amateur at juvenile parties, where I find myself
greatly respected. A very few words will suffice for the little that remains to
be told.
Aunt Priscilla has gone to her rest. The Major, my mother, and Jemima still
flourish, the Major as upright as ever, but scarcely so active; my mother,
calm and placid; Jemima despotic as of yore, but still troubled in her mind
at having, as she considers, obtained Uncle Bumpus' legacy under false
pretences.
Peter, after a short period of probation, decided to continue Uncle Bumpus'
business, and tells me that he does not find it nearly so bad as imagination
painted it. I myself have been for some years (I will not say how many) in
practice as a solicitor, and am gradually achieving a very comfortable
connection. I am glad to be able, with more intimate acquaintance, to
exonerate the members of that highly respectable profession from the
piratical imputation so rashly cast upon them by Dibley Secundus in my
Dumpton College days. On the other hand, I am constantly tracing in my
new profession some pleasant little trait which reminds me of my old one.
The constant endeavour to make a thing appear something totally different,
the frequent protestations (though couched in more elaborate language) that
there is "no deception," and last, but not least, the rapid disappearance, in
many of its processes, of the coin of the realm, are instances of this
mysterious affinity, and make me feel that, although I no longer wield the
magic wand, I may still fairly subscribe myself
CONJURER DICK.
THE END.
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Document Outline
- Conjuror Dick
- Conjuror Dick
- Contents
- Chapter I
- Chapter II
- Chapter III
- Chapter IV
- Chapter V
- Chapter VI
- Chapter VII
- Chapter VIII
- Chapter IX
- Chapter X
- Chapter XI
- Chapter XII
- Chapter XIII
- Chapter XIV
- Chapter XV
- Chapter XVI
- Chapter XVII
- Chapter XVIII
- Chapter XIX
- Chapter XX
- Chapter XXI
- Chapter XXII
- Chapter XXIII
- Chapter XXIV
- Chapter XXV
Wyszukiwarka
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