Indoor displays of horsemanship, where the incentive of betting is lacking, have not been a success in Paris—at least when conducted upon a large scale. The old Hippodrome, founded for track exhibitions, has passed out of existence. It was too big to be popular, and the new Hippo-Palace, a splendid structure forming a spacious angle with the rue Calvalotti and the rue Caulincourt, after a short life proved an absolute failure. Its exterior was vast and exceedingly attractive in color. The whole was done in a scheme of gold and turquoise blue velvet, with a huge stage for ballets at the end of the three-ringed amphitheater. The performance was excellent, and for a while it looked as if the Hippo-Palace might be a success. But the same criticism caused its downfall. There were too many things to watch at once from seats too far removed from the performers.
THE CROWD AT LONGCHAMP
Parisians enjoy the intimacy of a small circus.
Between the acts the pretty stables behind the scenes are crowded with people who enjoy looking at the horses in their neatly kept stalls—indeed, many of these remain in the stables after the bell announces the continuance of the performance, in order to view at leisure the byplay of the performers before they go into the ring.
A pretty bareback rider comes tripping down the stairs from her dressing-room. Her horse is brought out for her from its stall, and, while an elderly gentleman with a ribbon in his buttonhole stands chatting with her for a moment, her groom gives a final cinch to the mare’s white kid girdle and rosins its broad back.
Applause announces the end of an act, and a trained bear, held in check by his keeper, shuffles past you.
It is mademoiselle’s turn now, and the old gentleman with the decoration lifts his opera hat as mademoiselle leaves him and runs into the ring.
From the circular promenoir behind the second tier of boxes you catch glimpses of women in chic toilets who nightly frequent the circuses.
Immortal are the names of the famous of French clowns—Boum-Boum, Auguste and Chocolat. For years they have made Paris roar with laughter, and the little French children kick their bare legs in glee.