CHAPTER III

MISDIRECTION

THAT time-worn fallacy, "the quickness of the hand deceives the eye," might well form the text for the present chapter. As an example of how not to do it, the catch-phrase in question cannot easily be surpassed. Its falsity is so glaring, the principle it embodies is so impossible-and for obvious reasons-that one can only marvel at the audacity which first offered such a flagrant howler for public acceptance. Yet in spite of its palpable absurdity, that ancient legend has not only been accepted as gospel by the public, but has also received professional endorsement, times out of number. This is misdirection, with a vengeance; but it is not the kind of misdirection which, as we have said, constitutes the fundamental basis of magic.

No! The form of misdirection represented by the phrase we have quoted can only be described as lying, pure and simple. The quickness of even a highly skilled hand cannot deceive an attentive eye, however untrained the latter may be. In fact, of all possible movements, one that is rapid is most likely to attract attention. Still, the world undoubtedly believes that a magician's success largely depends upon the quickness of his movement. And it may be whispered, one occasionally meets with professional magicians who entertain much the same belief. This fact is typical of the confusion associated with matters magical, in every department.

The misdirection which forms the groundwork of magic does not consist in telling lies, with the object of deceiving the spectator's intelligence. It consists admittedly in misleading the spectator's senses, in order to screen from detection certain details for which secrecy is required. It militates against the spectator's faculties of observation, not against his understanding. Broadly, it may be said to comprise three general methods, viz.-Distraction, Disguise, and Simulation. Every means employed by magicians for misdirecting the senses of an audience, will be found allied to one or other of those elementary principles.

The principle of distraction is, perhaps, that most commonly utilized. It operates by direct appeal to the spectator's observation, whereby the latter is drawn away from whatever the performer wishes to conceal. It is a "red herring drawn across the scent," so to speak; and the introduction of such red herrings is often an important item in the procedure connected with a magical experiment. The more direct the challenge, the more certain is observation to be drawn toward the quarter in which the distraction arises. The more haphazard the distraction appears to be, the less likely it is to arouse suspicion as to its true purpose. A carefully prearranged "accident" is the most perfect form of misdirection--for one occasion only. It will not work efficiently twice, with the same spectators.

For point-blank distraction, we can recall no better example than that provided by a foreign performer, who appeared in London some years ago. Speaking no English, he employed an interpreter, who spoke some English-though not anything excessive. Holding up, say, a borrowed ring, the performer would remark "Voici la bague!" the interpreter immediately following on with "And here is a piece of paper!" The latter sentence, being uttered in a very loud voice, created a distraction which took away all observation from the performer, giving him an opportunity to submit the ring to a process of transposition. When the eyes of the audience had returned to the performer, the original bague was represented by deputy.

It is, however, very seldom that distraction of so direct a nature as this can be employed. More often than not, the distraction is derived mainly from some action on the part of the magician himself. Hence, we learn the importance of the maxim that, when a magician has anything "magical" to do, he should never look at what he is doing. For, above all other actions, a movement of the performer's eyes is the most certain to be followed by an audience--a very fortunate thing for the magician, too, so long as he bears the fact in mind. If, owing to nervousness or uncertainty, he permits his eyes to glance at what he does not want the audience to see, hundreds of eyes will take the same direction at once.

A magical performer should practise the art of "looking out of the corner of his eye." It is not a difficult art to acquire; and, at times, may be found extremely handy. The schoolmaster, with head bent down and eyes intently fixed upon the answer he is correcting, has no difficulty in detecting Smith, junior, who is playing the goat behind the end form. In like manner, a magician should be able to see almost everything he can need to see, without actually looking at it. No doubt some eyes are better adapted than others for this purpose, while in most eyes there is one particular direction in which this sidelong vision is easiest to manage. But, in any case, it is worth a magician's while to see what can be done by practice. There need be no time wasted over it, as the method can be practised anywhere and at any odd moment.

A familiar example of misdirection by gaze is that of looking at the wrong hand, during manipulative feats. The billiard ball, let us say, has been passed (apparently) from the right hand to the left. Both hands have their backs to the audience, the left fingers being closed as though grasping the ball, and the right fingers outspread as though the ball were not still in that hand. Meanwhile, the performer stares hard at his left hand until such time as the supposed ball has been dribbled away to nothingness. It would be interesting to know if any spectator is ever misled by this particular maneuver. Not very often, one would imagine. Anyhow, it illustrates our point very forcibly. No matter how unskilful a performer may be, when presenting this little feat of manipulation he feels instinctively the urgent need for keeping his eyes fixed upon the hand which does not contain the ball. It is not until his right hand drops to the bend of his right knee, or rises to the tip of his left elbow, that he feels safe in looking where the ball really is.

When, in addition to looking in a certain direction, the performer points toward and calls attention to a particular object, the distraction thus created is very potent indeed. However seasoned to magic a spectator may be, the threefold challenge thus issued to his observation is practically certain to attain its end. It would be strange indeed if he failed to glance at least in the direction indicated.

In the main, distraction may be said to consist in the interpolation Of non-essentials; i.e., matters which occupy the attention of the audience, to the exclusion of essential details in procedure or construction. Sometimes the distraction may consist in simple incidentals, such as the entrance of an assistant at a critical moment. Sometimes it may consist in the introduction of suspicious-looking actions or accessories, which have nothing to do with what is going on. But at all times, a magician should remember that the least efficient form of misdirection is anything which depends upon insisting upon the obvious. To call attention to something that all may see for themselves may distract the attention of a few-or perhaps not. At the best, it is a risky procedure, and one to be avoided. To be efficient, a distraction must present some element of surprise, interest, or novelty, either in itself or in reference to what has gone before.

Misdirection by disguise consists in a skilful blending of suspicious and innocent details in such manner that the former are overlooked. In other words it depends upon making "fakey" things look as though they were free from sophistication. The real inwardness of this principle is far too often unrecognized by magicians, though an audience will never lose sight of it.

Some magicians, indeed, seem to act upon a principle entirely opposite to the foregoing. Instead of doing all they can do to disguise the "fakey" nature of their accessories and movements, they seem to think that everything they use, and everything they do, should be made to look as "fakey" as possible. All their appliances are obviously "conjuring apparatus"; all their movements are designed to convey the impression of manipulative skill. Every object exhibited upon their stages is fashioned and decorated like nothing else under the sun. It is done "for effect." They cannot take up any object without proceeding to juggle with it-even the very objects they are about to use for magical purposes. If the next experiment is to be with billard balls, they begin by showing how easy it is to make a billiard ball seem to be where it is not. If they are about to use cards, they preface the experiment with feats of dexterity which will impress upon their audience the idea that the false handling of a pack is, if anything, easier than rolling off a log. These jugglings are also introduced "for effect."

But what is the true effect created by such unnecessary padding? Simply to make an audience feel that, whatever happens, there can be no cause for surprise or wonderment. Having seen how readily the performer can handle his accessories for the production of extraordinary results, spectators are bound to regard the subsequent presentation as a natural consequence. Their further interest can be only of an academic order because, after witnessing the performer's manipulative fireworks, everything else he may do seems to follow as a matter of course.

In like manner, the use of obvious "apparatus" is bound to detract from the success of a magical performance. When appliances are so designed as to show that they are mere covers for mechanical trickery, a spectator's only possible source of interest is in wondering how the machinery is constructed. Granting the existence of mechanism, it only needs the skill of an inventor to produce the results obtained. There can be no impression of magical occurrences when, in the appliances a magician uses, there is clear evidence of sophistication. In fact, a magical effect can be created only when there is no apparent existence of trickery, either manipulative or otherwise. It is bad business for a magician either to display skill in jugglery or to use accessories which arouse suspicion as to their internal structure. Such things are utterly antagonistic to the principle of misdirection by disguise.

The simplest embodiment, perhaps, of this principle is the familiar 41 covering" of one action by another. When, for instance, a performer has to make the "pass" with a pack of cards, it is absolutely essential that the necessary movements of the fingers be covered by an apparently natural and unsuspicious action. He cannot face his spectators and deliberately make the pass, unscreened, before their eyes. At least, he cannot do so and hope to create an impression of magical results. He is therefore bound to do something that will disguise the real nature of his actions, and prevent the trick from being disclosed.

It is absurd for a magical performer to imagine that, because he has acquired a certain deftness of manipulation, a facility in juggling with the accessories he uses, he must necessarily be an expert in magic. Such is far from being the fact. In gaining that kind of skill, he has travelled only half the journey he must take before reaching his goal-by far the easier half, too. The technical perfection of his sleights has but little value in itself. To be made valuable it requires the aid of ingenious and effective disguise. Without the latter, it can only serve to make the spectators think the performer is clever with his hands, and to prevent that idea from being lost to sight. It thus emphasizes the very point which a capable magician wishes, above all, to keep in the background. When, however, by continued study and practice the performer has added to his mechanical skill the refinements of disguise, clean and artistic, then only is he in a position to claim the title of magical expert. And then, also, he will find that claim disputed by none capable of forming just conclusions on such points.

In the same way, it is not enough that a magical performer shall provide himself with trick-appliances which will bear more or less examination without the precise nature of their tricks becoming evident. It is not enough to have the sophistications hidden by blobs, thicknesses or deformities of "decoration," so that spectators cannot see what is underneath. On the contrary, magical appliances should be so constructed that their inner devices are not concealed by a mere covering of some sort, but are disguised by blending with the general structure. In fact, so far from suggesting the possibility of there being anything discoverable, a magician's accessories should rather look like objects of normal construction, which nobody would associate with trickery.

This is particularly the case where an appliance is intended to resemble some article in general use, or the shape of which is familiar. For example, can there be anything more palpably absurd or more utterly unconvincing than the "feather-flowers" one so often sees produced by magical performers? They are like nothing else under the heavens, and are as innocent of any suggestion of magic as a child's rattle. There is no misdirection associated with the use of things like these. There can be none. They are obviously made of feathers; they obviously close up into very small compass; and no amount of ingenuity could ever make an audience even regard their production as clever. As to throwing an audience off the scent in reference to the modus operandi of such a production, that is clearly impossible.

On the other hand, as an example of efficient disguise, let us take de Kolta's little dodge of concealing a small silk handkerchief within a half-opened match-box. No device could be simpler than this; nor, in its way, could anything be more perfect. A common match-box stands half-opened upon the table. With his sleeves rolled up, and his hands undoubtedly empty, the performer takes up the matches, strikes one, lights a candle, blows out the match and closes the box, replacing it on the table. It must be admitted that the act of conveying a handkerchief into one's previously empty hand could scarcely be disguised in a more unsuspicious manner. Unfortunately, the trick of thus concealing a small object soon became known, and consequently has now but little value. That, however, does not detract from the merit of the original device.

In connection with disguise, which is in reality nothing more than a special form of concealment, the question of display becomes of importance, by contrast. While the magician must use all his art to disguise and cover up what he does not require to be seen, he is equally bound to make sure that every moment and every detail that ought to be seen shall be seen. If, after having effectually secured himself in the matter of disguise, he so bungles his procedure and stage arrangements as to prevent people from seeing, half the time, what is going on, his good work will be wasted.

Simulation is a form of pretense. In disguise, we have the principle of making one thing look like another and entirely different thing. In the misdirection of sense by means of simulation, we have the principle of giving apparent existence to things that do not exist, or presence to things that are absent.

The billard ball feat, already cited in this chapter, serves to illustrate the three basic principles of misdirection in magic. In the gaze of the performer, and the pointing of the fingers of his right hand, we have the principle of distraction. In the extended position of his right hand, intended to convey the idea that the ball is not held therein, we have the principle of disguise. Lastly, in the partially closed fingers of the left hand, we have the principle of simulation. There appears to be something where, in reality, there is nothing.

In mechanical devices also, simulation often plays a most important part. Usually it is employed for the purpose of retaining the form of something or somebody already removed. Examples of this method, from "The Vanishing Lady" to the coin dropped into a tumbler of water, will occur readily to all who know anything of magic. The converse method-that of simulating the form of a person or object not yet present-though not so much used as the former, is sufficiently familiar to need no special illustration.

Upon this form of misdirection, little need be said. Its employment, both in manipulation and construction, must be governed by the circumstances of each particular case. The one important point in every instance alike, is to make sure that the working shall be "clean." On one hand, the simulation in itself must be efficient; and, on the other hand, all evidence that the person or thing simulated has either gone or not yet arrived must be entirely lacking. It is of no use to cover a bird-cage with a handkerchief containing a "fake" and expect the audience to believe that the cage is still there, if one effects the removal clumsily, or allows the fabric to blow under, as it could not were the cage not removed. If the simulation is not good, spectators cannot be expected to believe that the object simulated is where it is supposed to be. Nor can they be expected to believe, no matter how perfect the simulation, that an object still remains or has previously been in a certain place, if the getting-away or getting-in of that object is more or less in evidence. Cleanness, both in actual simulation and the procedure connected with it, is the one great essential.

Misdirection, in either of its branches, is not confined to one particular sense. Sight, of course, is the sense most frequently concerned; but other senses also come in for their share of attention. Hearing, for instance, is misdirected when, in "The Aerial Treasury," coins appear to fall into the hat from the performer's right hand, when they really fall from his left. Touch is misdirected when a spectator thinks he drops a coin into a tumbler of water, though he drops in reality a disc of glass. Taste is misdirected when spectators believe themselves to be drinking innumerable choice beverages when, in reality, their drinks are merely compounds of a few special ingredients contained in a "Magic Kettle." In short, every sense is open to misdirection, and thus may be made to serve the ends of a skilful magician.

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