Washington Post, May 3, 1902


DELVED INTO THE OCCULT.
Count de Sarak's Demonstrations Proved Puzzling to Spectators


    Count Albert de Sarak, Doctor of Medicine, and General Inspector of the Supreme Esoteric Council of Tibet, is the name of a small, nervous, dark-complexioned gentleman, who delivered a brief lecture and a series of demonstrations of and upon the occultism of the Orient, last night, on the tenth floor of the Raleigh, assisted by Miss Agnes E. Marsland, graduate of Cambridge University and member of the Esoteric Society of Tibet, a tall, blond lady, who acted as his interpreter.
    The entertainment, seen through worldly eyes, was not above the average of such performance.   Judging from his attire and his introduction to the audience by Miss Marsland, who referred to him as "my illustrious master," the impression was left on those present that the count was a Hindoo, his name and title thus proving a puzzle to the audience.
    His pupil in occultism, Miss Marsland, stated to the audience that "her illustrious master" could not speak English, and that she would translate what he said.   When he began his exposition of the doctrine of Brahma, it was not in the classic language of the Rig-veda or the Zend-Avesta, nor even in modern Hindostanee, but in plain every-day French.
    In his lecture on occultism he thrashed out all the old straw that has been worked over time and again by Theosophists, Buddhists, Brahminists, White Mahatmos, and the like, ladling in a good deal of Bulwer Lytton now and then, and finally leading up to his first demonstration.
    In this two members of the audience took chairs on a platform opposite each other, one holding a spoonful of sugar, the other an empty glass.   Then the count went through a pantomime lasting a full twenty minutes, ending by his directing the man with the sugar to pour it into the glass in the hands of the one opposite.   As he did so the count tapped the glass with his wand, whereupon a column of flame shot up from the glass, lasting about a minute.  This fire was the "electric fluid" &c., which he created by means of the vast current of electric force contained within himself.
    Following this he caused grains of wheat to be planted in soil held in the hands of one of the audience.  After the same lengthy laying on of hands, facial contortion, &c., as in the former "demonstration" with frequent waterings and loosening of the soil, his pupil announced that the count felt somewhat exhausted and would not carry the matter further, as the grains had germinated.   Such was the case.  A number of the grains had taken root.   Some had roots and stalks an inch long.
    The next act was similar to the old Davenport Brothers' dying [sic] trick.   The demonstrator's hands were tied behind his back by a member of the audience, and he promptly extricated himself.   Just as this happened a small bird appeared from where, no one could tell, adding to the excitement caused by his demonstration.  This and several other tricks filled out the evening's entertainment.   While each demonstration was in progress, soft low music was played on the piano, Miss Marsland explaining that "musical vibrations" helped matters along immensely.
    The count was very much fatigued after each demonstration.

Commentary: The first mentioning of Miss Marsland!  And she's a Cambridge graduate... must add that piece of info to the pile.  Reading between the lines, I think the author of this article thinks Sarak's magic is probably a bunch of durned tommyrot.  Mental note: research Bulwer Lytton.   I love the spoonful of sugar trick.  Ten bucks says it wasn't sugar at all but some sort of combustible material set aflame by a trick wand...?  Sorry, I should refer to the flame by its technical name: "electric fluid".   You haven't heard?  Fire comes in many varieties, all with different names, and this particular fire from a glass of sugar water is called "electric fluid".  You'll learn.  Sarak had a lengthy "laying on of hands" for the germinating seed trick.   You think he might have replaced the seeds with already rooted plants during all that "loosening of the soil"? ... Nah!  And how about that spontaneous bird materialization?   Nice touch.  Final word: This article gets extra points for its use of "&c." as an abbreviation for "et cetera". Kudos!


Update:
My friend Eugenia has alerted to me the fact that the Bulwer Lytton in question is the same guy who inspired the bad fiction contest. :)



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