ECHOS

La Quotidienne

The very serious accident that a Japanese acrobat has just suffered, performing in a circus in Montmartre, has produced, in the public, a sincere emotion, which several of our colleagues have translated.

Mr. Antoine took the opportunity to protest, once again, against the removal of the net; it is a subject that he has already often dealt with; he is surprised, not without reason, by the inertia shown by "the authorities", who are responsible for ensuring that safety regulations are rigorously observed.

It is a fact that we are no longer concerned with protecting music hall and circus artists against their own audacity and temerity: this too often borders on real madness. Antoine rightly observes that it also involves risks for the spectators. Too often, gymnasts perform their exercises, with delirious audacity, above the audience. One fine day, the fall of one of these imprudent tightrope walkers or acrobats will cost the lives of two or three people, who came with the intention of spending a pleasant evening, and who will be carried away on a stretcher.

Not only do the "tricks" of these acrobats become more and more extraordinary, and reveal, on the part of those who have put them together, as much courage as composure, but also the protective measures become more and more illusory.

In reality, they no longer exist. The use of the net, stretched under the gymnasts, is considered outdated. And its disappearance has ended up giving the audience the impression, certainly false and even absurd, that the exercises they are watching present no danger to the acrobat who is performing them.

The spectator has thus come to imagine that habit and training have had the effect of immunizing circus artists against all risks of falling or accidents; they seem to have conquered the laws of gravity and found the secrets of balance, in the most unstable positions; they belong to another species and possess other resources than ordinary mortals. But a news item, having taken place in the ring of a Parisian establishment, comes, from time to time, to remind the public of a less extravagant conception of things. Yesterday, it was, in Montmartre, a Japanese acrobat who fractured his skull by falling from a height of ten meters to the ground. The other week, it was, in rue Saint-Honoré, a graceful tightrope walker, who slipped from a trapeze and suffered multiple fractures that left her forever disabled. A few months ago, it was in Bordeaux, a gymnast who killed himself in the same conditions. It would take the documentation of our excellent colleague Gustave Fréjaville, the historiographer of the music hall, to draw up a list, almost complete, of all those who have met a tragic death, or incurable infirmities, while striving to satisfy or stimulate the jaded curiosity of the public.

Commenting on the accident of which his comrade, the Japanese tightrope walker, had just been the victim, one of the famous Fratellini observed the other day: "What makes the great success of acrobats? It is less, unfortunately, the difficulty of the trick to perform than the peril it presents; a trapeze exercise will not provoke any enthusiasm, performed two meters from the ground; raise the trapeze to ten meters, and there is furious applause,"

Very true! But all the more reason to protect these acrobats against their imprudent temerity, which is stimulated by the unconscious cruelty of the public, against which it is urgent to protect them too! -

PAUL MATHIEX.