Magicians in London: A Recollection

by Oswell Blakeston

This extract was first published in The Uncertain Element, [1950]

And it was in London, and not in Istanbul, that I met my best black magician. People had told me about him. They said: “He’s an old man now, but his hair is still dark and wild. He lives in a tenement. You’d never dream what a lot of magic is still practised there. Why! He can remember when there was a cage of skinned live cats on exhibition in the street, and there was a boy who bit the heads of live rats for a sixpence. It’s atmosphere, isn’t it?”

Well, there was a strange little card on his mantelpiece. I asked him about it. “That!” he shrugged his shoulders. “That’s nothing much. Just a sigil to make it hail tomorrow.”

I did the unforgivable thing. In spite of the atmosphere, I said, “Will it?”

“Umph!” he said reproachfully, of course it does depend on “interferences” by others black magicians.” His face brightened. “Once,” he said, “I put a card up to make it rain. I had to make some days before my influence was sufficiently established to counteract the wishes of others magicians. But when it did rain, my card was so strong I could not get it to stop.

“I said, “That’s all right, I’ve proved my point.” I burnt my card and willed the rain to cease. But I had underrated my own power. I had to will for days before the rain actually stopped. Think of that!”

I thought about it, and he watched me with burning eyes to see if I was impressed.

He said: “Have you a match? I used to light cigarettes without matches, but I found it wasted so much power. I must keep my power for the really big things. For instance, I made the mistake of trifling with horses.

“I once drew a special pack of cards to tell me the winner. A magic pack of cards. If there were a dozen horses in the race, I laid out thirty cards and concentrated to make the pack tell me the thirtieth horse. That forced my conscious mind to give up, and brought my unconscious into play.

“Well, for a bit I couldn’t understand what was wrong. I didn’t seem to be making any money. But then it came to me. My magic was right but – the judges were wrong.

“Judges are fallible human beings, you know, and they make errors about the horses and the tape. My magic could only tell me the horse that really won, not the horse which deceived the judges. Of course, this was in the days before the photo-finish.

“But, you see” it doesn’t do to trifle.”

He leapt to his feet. “I’ll show you something,” he cried wildly, “I’ll show you something.”

He picked up a rusty biscuit tin. I wondered if he was going to produce a dried toad or a dead baby. He took out a piece of cheese. Then, with a pocket knife, he delicately removed some pairings.

“For D.P.”s lunch,” he said, as he dropped the shavings outside a mousehole. “I call him D.P.,” he added; “it’s short for Death Posture.”

“Is he your familiar?” I suggested.

“He is,” the black magician boasted, “the most amazing mouse in London.”

We sat watching the hole. I didn’t know whether I was expected to will anything, so I tried to fill my mind with cheese.

Presently a mouse peered, sniffed, darted forward, gobbled the cheese, retreated.

“There!” shouted the black magician in triumph, “that was D.P. You see I keep a tame mouse instead of a cat. He relies on the lunch I give him, and so he’s jealous of his food he won’t allow another mouse near the place.”

“Yes,” I conceded, “that certainly is magic, But,” I went on as a doubt occurred to me, “would you call it black?”

He despaired of me. “I’ll have to ask you to go,” he said crossly. “There is an inner rite I must perform. But before you go, I wonder if you’d mind giving me a had to rig up this box camera?”

“Elementals, you know, walk in straight lines. You must know that – the Chinese knew it millions of years ago. Well, there’s a demon due to haunt my room tonight. But no elemental can bear to have his photograph taken. That only happens under the pentagram of compulsion. When my haunt sees the camera he’ll automatically turn round. Then he’ll have to walk in a straight line all round the earth before he can get back to my room. It ought to keep him quiet for a bit.”

I did my best to help with the camera, and as I was about to leave the black magician relented.

“Come back one day,” he invited, “and I’ll show you all your future in a vision on the wall. You’ll like that, won’t you? All your future spread out like a map before you”. Yes, do come back. I think D.P. has taken a fancy to you.”

---