“Well, Houdin,” he said to me, “how do you like your examination? does the audience please you?”
“It is delightful, my dear Mitchell; I may add, it is the first time I ever performed in a theatre to such a brilliant audience.”
“Brilliant is the very word, my friend, for you must know that, among your admirers” (pardon me this word of praise, but I am quoting Mitchell), “is the whole of the English Press, which possesses a numerous staff. We shall also have as spectators some gentlemen whose opinion exercises a very great influence in London drawing-rooms. And lastly, a great number of places are occupied by artistic celebrities, who will justly appreciate the Robert-Houdin whom, to employ the champagne phrase, we have made ‘sparkle’ as he deserves.”
It may be imagined that, after this explanation, my performance seemed to me a solemnity, and that I employed the utmost care and zeal in executing my tricks. I am justified in stating that I obtained a legitimate success.
Shall I now speak of the kindness and encouragement I received from the audience of St. James’s Theatre? I will appeal to the celebrated artistes who have performed on this stage before me: Rachel, Roger, Samson, Regnier, Duplessis, Déjazet, Bouffé, Levassor, &c.; have they ever found in Europe spectators comparable to those of St. James’s? Here there are no paid clappers; they would be superfluous, for the audience take upon themselves to encourage the performers. The gentlemen are not afraid of bursting their gloves, while the ladies make as much noise with their tiny hands as their strength allows.
But I must stop, for I should fear, were I to continue, drifting into the style of the Great Wizard.
My performances went on at St. James’s, and amply consoled me for my losses in Paris. Although I only performed three times a week, their produce exceeded that of my best days at home. My readers might imagine that such unequivocal success ought to have satisfied me, but, as I have said before, I am naturally ambitious, and I longed for one decisive triumph—I wished to have my performance honored by the presence of the Queen. Under happier auspices I doubt not that the honor would have fallen to my share, but at the moment there was a peculiar difficulty, which I saw no mode of overcoming. I will describe it in as summary a manner as I can.
After the revolution, the French theatres, as I have already said, found their receipts reduced to worthless free tickets; hence they sought in neighboring countries, just as I had done myself, a public less engaged with politics, and consequently more apt to yield to the attraction of amusement.
England was the only country that had made no change in its habits of luxury and pleasure, and hence many managers turned their longing eyes towards this El Dorado.
The Palais Royal Theatre, which, by the way, was not the worst off, was one of the first to draw a bill at sight upon the rich metropolis of England.