"I have taken the liberty of accompanying Madame M---- to compliment you on what you have done for her. It is a good action, for which all her theatrical friends owe you abundant thanks; and, for my part, I hope, sooner or later, to evidence my gratitude in my own way."
While flattered at my visitor's remarks, I was much puzzled as to the sense of his last sentence. He noticed it, and, giving me no time to reply, continued:
"Ah! I forgot to tell you who I am, and I ought to have begun with that. My name is Duhart, and I manage theatrical successes at the Palais Royal. By the way," he added, "were you satisfied with the reception you had last night?"
This confession, I grant, robbed me of a sweet illusion. I had fancied I owed my reception to my own merits, and I now could not guess what share of the applause legitimately belonged to me. Still, I thanked M. Duhart for his kindness, both past and to come. Three months later, I had almost forgotten this incident, when one day, as I was going to give a performance at the Porte Saint-Martin, my friend Duhart called on me.
"Only one word, Monsieur Houdin," he said, without taking the trouble to sit down. "I read in the bills that you are going to perform for Raucourt's benefit, and I have recommended you to P----, who will 'take care of you.'"
I was in fact, "taken care of," for when I appeared on the stage, I was greeted by a reception worthy of the highest artistic celebrities. It was easy to recognize an ovation warmly recommended, but I was glad to notice that the public "followed suit," and that the bravos emanating from the pit radiated through the whole house.
A few months later, when about to perform at the Gymnase, came another visit from Duhart, the same recommendation to his comrade, and a similar result. In short, I rarely quitted my own stage but my grateful protector interested himself in my success.
I am forced to say that I let him do so, and saw no harm in it; far from that, these encouragements were a stimulant for me, and I always redoubled my efforts to deserve them.
I have taken a pride in relating this incident, for it admirably depicts the character of a man capable of being so long grateful for a slight service rendered to a friend. However, the performance at the Odéon was the last in which the worthy Duhart went out of his way for me, as the revolution of February arrived a few days later.