Et qu’on frappe au rideau trois coups,
Elle attend . . . Hélas! on les frappe,
Mais c’est sur des têtes de clous.”[4]
A man who has so many strings to his bow is not anxious about the future. One day when I hinted before Clam that old age might surprise him, without any provision for it, he replied:
“When I am no good for anything else my friends will [p096] make a politician of me. But I have still some chest left, and I shall put off the death of the show for many years yet.”
The improvements, the tricks of every kind which have destroyed the “outside shows,” have enriched the entertainments given inside the booths, and have most successfully transformed the conjuring performances like those found in the establishments of Adrian Delille and Pietro Gallici.
Since Delille bought the theatre and tricks of Laroche he is the king of showmen conjurers. He is third representative of the name. The first Adrian, the grandfather, was conjurer to King Charles X., and, since that remote date, at every fair held in Paris or any large town, a magician bearing the name of Delille has been seen making omelettes in hats, juggling with balls, &c., without the aid of pointed hat, long sleeves, wand, or cabalistic words—a modern sorcerer in evening dress and lavender kid gloves. The Delilles first introduced the trick of the Speaking Head into France. They bought the patent for 4,000 francs, never hesitated to bring a lawsuit against any one who infringed it, and always won their case.
The science of white magic has made great progress since that date. There are always some means of improving an old trick, and every year Adrian Delille spends his six months of enforced rest in preparing for the summer season.
Like all his comrades, he disbands his troupe in the month of November, and takes up his winter quarters in Paris, where he has a study devoted to experiments. He must [p097] be ready to renew the campaign at Easter, to astonish the Parisians at the Fair du Trône. In his youth the conjurer worked almost alone, and for hours he would keep the public breathless with interest and wonder. For this he required great facility of speech, a mind always on the alert, and the [p098] skill to draw the eyes of the spectators in any direction he wished away from his secret manipulations. Conjuring implies a constant struggle against the malicious curiosity of the audience. “I am not strong enough now,” Delille observed to me, “to bear the strain during a succession of tricks; I was obliged to divide the performance. Besides, now, the public like that best.”