Returning to the prepared cards, it may be asked how it is possible to change the cards, for in all society where play goes on the cards are only taken out of the paper just before beginning.
Well! this is simple enough. The Greek finds out at what shop these houses buy their cards: at first he will make some small purchases, so that he may be regarded as a regular customer: then, on one fine day, he says that a friend has commissioned him to buy a dozen packets of packs. The next day these are brought back under the pretext that they are not of the color required, and as the packets are still sealed, the tradesman, full of confidence, changes them for others.
But the Greek has spent the night in undoing the bands and sealing them up again by a process known to conjurers; the cards have been all marked and properly arranged, and as the tradesman has them now in his shop, the trick is accomplished. Before long, they will reach the house where they are wanted.
All these swindling arts are very shocking, but there is another even more so in the shape of “imperceptible telegraphy.” Without the slightest appearance of collusion, a Greek can tell his partner every card his opponent holds in his hand by a system similar to that of my “second sight.”
I could describe many other tricks, but I will stop here. 1 believe I have said enough about card-sharpers and their swindling to induce a person never to sit down but with persons whose honor is unimpeachable.
CHAPTER XII.
The Inventive Genius of a Sugar-baker—Philippe the Magician—His Comic Adventures—Description of his Performance—Exposition of 1844—The King and Royal Family visit my Automata.
THE long looked-for change in my fortunes had at length arrived; my automata had gained me a certain degree of reputation, and I was making arrangements to commence my performances. Before describing these, I must devote a few pages, however, to some account of my immediate predecessor in the conjuring art, whose success in Paris at this period was most brilliant: I mean Philippe, the renowned magician, sorcerer, sleight-of-hand performer, and conjurer.
Philippe Talon was born at Alais, near Nîmes; after having carried on his sweet trade of confectioner for some time in Paris, his want of success compelled him to expatriate himself. London, that pays de Cocagne, the perspective El Dorado, was close at hand; so our tradesman proceeded thither, and soon set up again in trade in the capital of the United Kingdom. The French confectioner had fair chance of success, for in addition to the English liking for sweet-stuff, French confectionary has ever enjoyed a reputation in that country, only comparable with that which real English blacking has so long held in France. Still, despite these advantages, it seems that fresh difficulties arose; the fogs of the Thames, or, as some say, dangerous speculations, melted the fragile wares; the comfitures suffered a decided discomfiture.
Talon packed up a second time and went to Aberdeen, to ask shelter from the Scotch mountaineers, to whom he offered in exchange his seductive cates. Unfortunately, the Scotch of Aberdeen, differing greatly from the mountaineers in La Dame Blanche, wear neither silk stockings nor patent leather shoes, and consume very few jujubes and tarts. Thus, the new shop would soon have undergone the fate of the other two, had not Talon’s inventive genius found an issue from this precarious position.