“Don’t be alarmed about your success,” he said; “you have precedents to prove the good taste of the public and their willingness to accept reforms based on reason. Remember Talma appearing suddenly at the Thèâtre-Français clothed in the simple antique toga, at a time when tragedies were performed in silk coats, powdered perukes, and red heels.”
I accepted the reasoning, though I did not recognise the justice of the comparison. In fact, Talma could impose his taste on the public by the authority of his talent and reputation, while I, who as yet held no brevet rank in the army of conjurers, trembled to see my innovations badly received.
We had now reached the month of December, 1844, and, having nothing further to detain me, I decided on striking the grand blow—that is to say, I went out one morning determined on finding a site for my theatre. I passed the whole day in attempting to find a spot combining advantage of situation, chance of receipts, and many other benefits. I stopped through preference at the best spots and before the handsomest houses, but found nothing that exactly suited me.
Wearied with searching, I singularly lowered my pretentions and wants. Here I found an enormous price asked for a room that only in part suited me; there, proprietors who would not, for any consideration, have performances in their houses; in short, obstacles and impossibilities on all sides.
Thus I ran about Paris for a fortnight, passing from the largest to the smallest houses in turn, and ended by convincing myself that fate was adverse to my plans. Antonio relieved me from my difficulty, for that worthy friend, who aided me in the search, came to tell me he had found a room in the Palais Royal which could be easily converted into a theatre. I went straight to 164 in the Galerie de Valois, where I found, in fact, all the conditions I had sought elsewhere, combined.
The proprietor of this house had been dreaming for a long time in vain about a benevolent tenant, who, while paying an exhorbitant price for his room, would come in without expecting any repairs to be done. I was, therefore, most welcome, when I not only agreed to pay the rent asked, but endured passively every sort of imposition. Indeed, I would have given much more, so afraid as I was lest this desirable house should slip from me.
When the bargain was concluded, I applied to an architect, who soon brought me the plan of a charming room, which I jumped at. A few days later he set to work, partitions were knocked down, the ground cleared, and the carpenters began erecting my theatre, which was to contain from 180 to 200 persons. Though small, this room was all I wanted for my style of performance; for supposing, according to my famous calculations, that it was constantly full, it would be an excellent affair for me.
Antonio, ever filled with zeal for my interests, paid constant visits to my workmen and stimulated their activity, but one day my friend was struck by a sudden idea.
“By the way,” he said, “have you thought of asking permission from the Prefect of Police to construct your theatre?”
“Not yet,” I replied, quietly. “It cannot be refused me, as this construction makes no change in the architectural arrangements of the house.”