Scene four: the tragedy of orientalist magic

The audience gazes in admiration at the lush, silken curtains, resplendent with the image of a giant green dragon, apparently the sacred emblem of the Manchus. The silk ripples slightly as the curtains settle, having dropped over the stage after the antics of a Japanese acrobat – colourful yet ascetic – who had astonished everyone by walking across the naked blades of swords with bare feet. Truly it seemed that there was nothing an Oriental magician could not accomplish.

Silence falls, and an air of expectation gradually fills the auditorium of the Wood Green Empire in London. The audience shifts in anticipation of the show's headline feature. And just as the tension seems to become unbearable, a faint note of gentle, eerie music wafts out from behind the curtains. The instrument is exotic, unrecognisable, and unearthly. Strings play at bizarre intervals forming a melody that seems both alien and beautiful. Silence falls into the theatre once again, as the audience hold their collective breath. The heady scent of incense insinuates itself into their lungs. The beat of a drum sounds, as though from far off. But it gathers in strength and power, beating the methodical march of an approaching army.

As the curtain rises suddenly, the audience gasps involuntarily, as though taken by surprise. But the stage is empty. While the drums pound louder and more emphatically, the sound of marching feet seems to blend into the beat until, just as the audience thinks the invisible army can't get any closer, two files of magnificent Chinese soldiers parade onto the stage. Their demeanour is austere and awe-inspiring, while their ornate, antique armour glistens like gold in the stage-lights. They are a vision of another world, conjuring the audience's imagination of the legendary Boxers and the spirit warriors of ancient China.

The soldiers stamp to attention in two crisply parallel lines across the stage. The snap of their salute silences the drums and the audience's eyes widen, waiting. From the silence, a glorious fanfare of trumpets. From off stage emerges a gloriously colourful palanquin, glittering with gold and studded with jewels. It is borne by a gorgeous coterie of Chinese attendants, bedecked in flowing silks, each bearing the legendary crest of the Mandarin of the One Button.