The number of those who cannot escape to the sea or the country during the heat of the dog-days, of those whom work and economy hold prisoners, is greater than one usually feigns to believe. During the whole summer these people have no other oasis of refreshment within a walk than the great hall with its movable glass roof, which gives the Hippodrome a ceiling of stars. It is important to those Parisians who from July to September will go at least once a week to the Hippodrome, to know that each time they will see the new pantomime with renewed pleasure. [p184]
I have frequently overheard the following definition given by very superficial people: [p185]
“The Hippodrome is a circus, of larger size than the others . . .”
There are some degrees of ignorance which should be sent back to learn A B C D. On the other hand, some amateurs may be found who are convinced they are right because they do not quite know what difference exists between the two.
A circus is a circular arena of fourteen yards nine inches in diameter, surrounded by benches. Travel with a yard measure, measure the diameter of the Cirque d’Hiver, of the Cirque d’Été, and of the Nouveau Cirque. Cross the sea towards America, follow Barnum and measure across his arena, continue your journey round the world by exploring Australia and Asia; lastly, return to Europe by the Caucasus, raise the canvas of one of the numerous travelling circuses which erect their tents at Astrakan in the fair time—you will not discover the difference of a fraction of an inch from the rule of fourteen yards nine inches in diameter. Fourteen yards nine inches is the regulation size.
A superstition, perhaps?
Do not believe it.
The unvarying dimensions of the arena respond to a double necessity: the exigency of the man and the exigency of the animal.
You already know that the banquiste is instinctively nomad, both through disposition and interest. It is therefore most important that, although he continually changes his locality he should find the scene of his performance unvaried.