A GREAT MAGICIAN’S ART.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVII, Issue I, 4 July 1896, Page 28

A GREAT MAGICIAN’S ART.

This ia a story of hands. Not hands east in the mould of fashion, or of labour, or even of manual toil, but hands knotted by jugglery. Hands in which little muscles are developed here and there, and in which hollow] are scooped out for the concealment of rabbits and pigeons and other necromantic things that are usually conjured into visible existence by wizards. In short, the bands are those of Herrmann, that arch conjuror with the cold X ray eye. Thirty-seven years ago a slender, thin faced boy with a Mephisto noee stood before a mirror in a little room on the Rue Montmartre in Paris. His door was locked according to his daily custom, because the good lodgers round about thought him crazy. The youth was Herrmann, and the glass was his audience. It is hard to deceive a mirror, either in the matter of bad looks or bad tricks, fate or fingers.

Yet Herrmann tried to deceive that mirror for one long year. The mirror with the image of Herrmann in it saw everything, and the youthful conjuror was dissatisfied. At this stage he went out on the street and lured one of those sharp featured chattering street gamins of Paris to his room. Then he put forth the charm of his magic, and the boy, thinking him the devil, fled. While the mirror had revealed faults, the street boy had not detected them.

Then the youth with the Mephisto nose felt encouraged. He went to work again, but he let the mirror alone, and devoted himself to his acquaintances. There is nothing so gullible as a man willing to be gulled, and Herrmann found it out.

Sime years ago Herrmann sat at the right hand of James G. Blaine ata banquet given in Washington. He picked up a champagne glass, threw it in the air and it apparently disappeared. Then the wizard, turning to the statesman, drew a brimming glass of champagne from the lapel of his coat. * That beats any political jugglery I ever saw,’ remarked the Maine man.

At this time the juggling bumps and hollows on Herrmann’s bands were fully developed, and he had won a fortune with them.

A reader of hands would call the wizard’s palm remarkable for its lines. They are zigzagged from thumb to little finger, and are crisscrossed in every direction, yet the life line is long and pronounced. This fact should comfort the magician unless by some other sleight of hand or eye he may be able to cheat death. ■ Yes,’ said Herrmann after it was all over; • I have been on the stage for thirtyseven years, and have never missed a performance. All that I have ever accomplished has been in the line of finesse. Position is everything, and almost every trick is performed solely by the dexterity of the hand. Many people claim that the hand is quicker than the eye, and that therein lies the secret of so-called magic. * Why, I can do many tricks very slowly simply because I can make an audience look where I like. This is more than half the battle. I think that one very prominent factor in my success has been the fact that I try my best to please the ladies. I never do anything to offend or shock them, and consequently they come to see me.

• I suppose you have heard of my Indian venture. _ I have just put in £2OOO on a commission to be sent to India. The purpose is to prove that the Yoghis, or Indian magicians, are not what they are represented to be. I shall soon represent all their tricks on the stage without the aid of a rabble of ample skirted women as con federates.

* I shall do the basket trick, the mango trick, and the disappearing boy trick. In the latter, as you know, the boy is placed in a basket, which is securely fastened. Then the magician runs a sword through the basket, and moans are heard. When it is opened, however, the boy is not there. * I am not much of a believer in Indian magic, and will not believe it fully until the camera tells me that it is true.'