The Double-sighted Scotch Phenomenon
Little wonder!
In 1831, a London playbill announced the arrival of a new wonder.
He was an eight-year-old boy from the Scottish highlands. He had a mysterious ability that ‘defied the research of all the Medical men’. They called him the ‘double-sighted Scotch phenomenon’.
The boy’s name was Louis M’Kean. He stood on a stage, dressed in a tartan costume, and performed feats of clairvoyance. His ‘double-sighted’ faculty was meant to resemble the gift of Second Sight.
(Louis M’Kean, who was sometimes billed as the ‘Double-sighted Scotch Youth’. Image courtesy of the late great Ricky Jay, who was a source of wonder)
This is what the eight-year-old did:
He was blindfolded with a handkerchief, then turned his back towards the audience. His father collected objects from the crowd, then held them up one at a time, and asked his son what they were. The boy described the objects in detail, including the dates and types of coins. When members of the audience wrote down messages, which were out of sight, he knew what they were. When they whispered softly, out of earshot, he repeated what they said.
The double-sighted Scotch phenomenon immediately attracted attention. The London press reported that, ‘even when an attempt was made to mislead him, he instantly detected it’. They explained that ‘he never made any mistake’ and answered ‘without a moment’s hesitation’. He ‘excited the very highest degree of wonder’.
However, the wee wonder had to compete with other novelties. He was already sharing the bill with ‘Two Orang Utans and a Chimpanzee’. And, before long, there was Don Carlos, ‘the Double-Sighted and Beautiful Dog’. It was claimed that the dog could perform card tricks. It was promised that he ‘will also select the handsomest Lady in the Room, according to his judgement (which is seldom questioned) … and the Gentleman most partial to the Ladies’.
With so many novel attractions – every one of them competing for attention - the double-sighted Scotch phenomenon struggled to sustain interest.
Can you imagine what that would have been like? Imagine a world in which everyone is being bombarded with novel and exaggerated claims, based on questionable facts. Publicity-hungry showmen make sensational announcements and extravagant promises. They know that novelty attracts attention. They also know that novelty doesn’t last. So, they keep making new announcements. They flood the zone with endless noise, until the public begin to drown in a bewildering sea of hullabaloo.
In a world where everyone is drawn to novelty, of course, this is inevitable. However, it’s distracting and confusing. Our minds, unable to keep up – unable to sustain interest in any particular thing - flit from one novelty to another. The latest announcement. The newest sensation.
In such a world, the double-sighted Scotch phenomenon was unable to survive. The newspapers moved on to more novel sensations. They now ignored the boy. However, they found the time to report some juicy news about the father, when he drunkenly assaulted a member of his audience:
When a customer asked for his money back, the father assaulted the man ‘by breaking a violin across his nose’. The father, who wasn’t merely tipsy but ‘in a glorious state of intoxication … took him by the collar, and nearly shook the breath out of his body; at the same time spluttering forth some Scotch’. Later, when the magistrate found him guilty of assault, the father ‘put his hat on in a rage’ and, when he refused to remove his hat in court, ‘it was pulled off for him, in doing which his wig came off with it, which put him in a greater rage than ever. He was conveyed to the lock-up’.
The double-sighted Scotch phenomenon had recently ‘excited the very highest degree of wonder’. However, he was soon eclipsed by his father, the excited double scotch phenomenon.
Little wonder! That’s the problem. Novelty is short-lived. For wonder to survive, it needs sustained interest.