The Art of Iugling or Legerdemaine: Wherein is Deciphered All the Conueyances of Legerdemaine and Iugling, How They Are Effected, and Wherin They Chiefly Consist

In Short

Part instruction manual, part exposé, this work provides a practical survey of "legerdemain"—the art of the nimble hand—alongside warnings against the predatory schemes of alchemists and gamblers. By detailing the actual methods behind stage magic, the text aims to arm readers against the swindles common in the author’s era. It has survived as a historical artifact because it captures the intersection of popular entertainment and criminal enterprise, revealing the elaborate, often hilarious, psychological theater used by street performers and grifters to manipulate an audience’s perception of reality.

The Story

The narrative begins with a modest dedication from the author to his father, Mr. William Bubb, framing the work as a "first fruit" of his labor and a testament to their bond. This sets a tone of intellectual curiosity, positioning the author as someone who prefers to pull back the curtain on "delusions and counterfeit actions" rather than propagate them. The text quickly pivots from this personal overture to a broader historical and social critique, starting with an account of "Egiptians"—a term used to describe nomadic bands who roamed the English countryside. The author details their rise, their penchant for "pilling and polling" the local population, and the government’s futile attempts to suppress them through harsh statutes. This creates a foundation for the book’s central argument: that the world is filled with individuals who, like these vagabonds, survive by obscuring the truth.

From this historical context, the narrative shifts to the technical realm of the juggler. The author breaks down the "art" into its three pillars: the movement of balls, the manipulation of money, and the shuffling of cards. He explains that these feats rely not on magic, but on dexterity, misdirection, and the exploitation of human expectation. Each technical section is punctuated by a "knack"—a specific, actionable instruction on how to hide a coin in the palm or switch a card while the audience is distracted by a "good grace and carriage." He treats these tricks with a mixture of clinical precision and cynical humor, emphasizing that the "miracle" is always a product of preparation and confederacy.

As the text progresses, the focus moves from performance magic to the more sinister world of the professional cheater. The author details the "foppery" of alchemists who promise to multiply gold, illustrating their methods with cautionary tales of country gentlemen ruined by their own greed. He describes how these confidence men recruit confederates, invent elaborate backstories, and use stagecraft to ensure their victims are too enamored with the promise of wealth to see the reality of the theft. The concluding chapters dismantle the various "charms" used by quack physicians and charlatans, dismissing them as superstitious nonsense designed to exploit the desperate. The book ends with a final, theatrical flourish: a story of a performing ass that seemingly understands human speech, serving as a reminder that even the most impressive display is merely a performance. Throughout, the author maintains a steady, cautionary voice, urging the reader to reject superstition and remain perpetually suspicious of anyone offering an easy fortune or an impossible miracle.

How It Unfolds

A family tradition The work opens with a playful, respectful exchange between the author and his "loving father," establishing the scholarly intent of the project. This framing serves as a bridge, grounding a book about deception in a relationship defined by mutual trust and intellectual pride.

The anatomy of the trick The author defines the core principles of legerdemain, emphasizing the importance of "nimble" hands and the necessity of maintaining a "good face" to sell the illusion. He systematically breaks down the physical movements required for ball and coin work, stripping away the mystery to show the mundane mechanics underneath.

The professional con The focus shifts to the darker side of the trade, examining how gamblers and alchemists use these same skills to commit fraud. He provides detailed warnings about false dice and marked cards, urging the reader to recognize that every "friendly" interaction in a gambling den is a calculated setup.

The folly of alchemy The author uses specific, stinging anecdotes to illustrate how alchemists prey on the vanity of the wealthy. By detailing the process of their deception, he argues that the victim's own desire for secret knowledge is the primary tool used against them.

A final warning The book concludes by categorizing various superstitious charms as a corruption of religion and logic. Through a final, fable-like story, the author reinforces that the world is full of actors and that a discerning mind is the only true protection against a performance.

The People

The primary voice is the author, Samuel Rid, a man who positions himself as an educator and a guide. He is motivated by a desire to "decipher" the world for others, acting as a skeptical mentor who values transparency over the "fantasie and foolery" of the charlatans he describes. He views his reader as a "courteous" pupil, someone who might be tempted by the wonder of a trick but needs a steady hand to keep them from being swindled.

The antagonists are a diverse, often shadowy cast: the "Egiptians," the "cosoning knaue" (alchemist), and the "cheaters" who swarm the taverns. These figures are defined by their adaptability; they are chameleons who change their attire, speech, and identity to suit their surroundings. They view everyone they meet as a mark, and they are masters of social engineering, using the victim’s own greed—specifically their desire for gold or a romantic connection—to cloud their judgment.

Then there is the "cosen," or the gullible target, represented by figures like the "Gentleman in Kent." This person is often defined by his "simplicity and abilitie"—a combination of enough wealth to be interesting to a crook and enough naivety to believe in the impossible. By the end of the text, these figures have been transformed from hopeful, perhaps slightly arrogant participants in a "miracle" to the humbled or ruined, serving as living lessons for the reader.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the necessity of confidence in the performer:

"Remember that a Iugler must set a good face vppon that matter he goeth about, for a good grace and carriage is very requisite to make the art more authenticall."

On the nature of the charlatan who promises wealth:

"He that promised the gould, will runne away with the gould, and thou neuer the wiser."

On the ultimate goal of the illusionist:

"It shall suffice to signifie vnto you, that the endeauour and drift of Iuglers, is onely to abuse mens eyes and iudgements."

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the fragility of human perception. It argues that we are all susceptible to being "abused" by our own expectations, whether we are watching a street performer or listening to an alchemist promise us riches. The text posits that deception is not just a collection of manual tricks, but a psychological state; we are tricked because we want to believe in miracles or easy gains. The author’s argument is that the only defense against this "universal" contagion of lying is a commitment to critical observation and a refusal to allow one’s own desires to override the evidence of the eyes. It is a plea for the reader to become a skeptic in an age of enchantment.

Why Read It Today

Reading this work today feels like uncovering a secret manual from a long-lost stage. For anyone interested in the history of magic or the evolution of the confidence game, it provides a fascinating, unfiltered look at the "knacks" that have defined performance art for centuries. You will encounter a world where the line between a stage trick and a criminal act is razor-thin, and the author’s tone—by turns academic, moralizing, and dryly humorous—makes for a compelling, if occasionally demanding, experience.

The book is not without its hurdles. The early seventeenth-century English, with its erratic spelling and archaic vocabulary, requires a patient eye, and the author’s period attitudes—particularly his disparaging view of "Egiptians" and his casual xenophobia regarding "Spanish" or "Italian" tricks—are a stark reminder of the era’s prejudices. You must be prepared to read past the author's moralizing to appreciate the technical descriptions of the card and coin moves, which remain remarkably clear. However, what stays with you is the author’s underlying, modern-sounding anxiety: the realization that even in a world obsessed with appearances, the simplest way to remain safe is to look closer, question the "miracle," and recognize that every performer is looking to keep a little something for themselves.