Seven or eight years ago, the great ‘sensation’ of the London music-halls was a balancing feat of a novel character, which was exhibited by an acrobat named professionally Sextillian, but whose real name is James Lee. He arranged about a score of glass tumblers in the form of an inverted pyramid, and balanced the fragile structure on his forehead, the base being formed by a single tumbler. But this was not all. He changed his position several times, constantly assuming attitudes which would have won the admiration of the world, if they could have been perpetuated in marble, and even passed in various positions through a hoop, all the time maintaining the equilibrium of the glittering pile that rested upon such a narrow base upon his forehead. If any of my readers should be disposed to attempt the performance of this feat as a private drawing-room entertainment, they must be prepared with a good supply of tumblers, for I am able to assure them, on the excellent authority of Sextillian himself, that the wondrous dexterity with which he performs it was not attained without an extensive destruction of glass.
Another performance which excited a large amount of public attention, partly through the mystery in which the _modus operandi_ was enveloped, and partly by reason of the excitement previously produced by the Brothers Davenport’s exhibition of alleged spirit-manifestations, was the ‘rope-trick,’ shown first by an expert performer named Redmond at Astley’s, and afterwards at most of the music-halls. The performer was enclosed in a cabinet about three feet square, and five or six feet high, with a door facing the spectators, and provided with a small aperture near the top. In a few minutes an attendant opened the door, when Redmond was seen within, securely bound in a chair. The spectators were allowed to satisfy themselves that he was bound as securely as if a second person had bound him, and then the door was closed. In a few moments he rang a bell, then he showed one hand at the aperture; in a few seconds more he began to beat a tambourine, and in a minute and a half from the time he was shut in the door was opened again, and he walked out, with the rope in his hands. This performance proved so attractive that it soon had many imitators, but none of them did it in so genuine and puzzling a manner, or displayed equal dexterity in its exhibition.