8
Our Lodgings in Dublin were of the Best sort imaginable, with my Master and Sam in a suite of Rooms, with a door opening right into the Inn-yard, a portion of which had been fenced off for the accommodation of myself and Mr Bisset’s other Animal companions. The very next morning, we met with a Mr Sweet, who introduced himself as the chief Trainer at Astley’s, and spent some time looking over the Horses. They went through all their paces, but Mr Sweet seemed strangely Displeased by their performance, although he gave their Abilities his grudging Admiration. ‘They may do Tricks, sure, but these Horses aren’t properly Trained—we’ll have to keep them apart from the others in the Ring,’ he declared. From what I could gather, his idea of training had a good deal to do with the use of a Whip, and he considered Horses trained in any other Manner to be a great Hindrance to him as he could not rely upon their Obedience to his commands. He did not bother very much about the other Animals, but did take a good long look at Me, and I felt at once a sort of Chill in his regard. He would just as soon see me cut into Rashers as have me cut Capers on his Stage, I thought, but since there was said to be some Money in it, he snorted, turned, and strode alongside Mr Bisset into his rooms.
Sam told me later that there had been some quite Heated discussion between them as to the Order of the Acts, and their Placement upon the Bills. There was a great number of human and animal Performers, who together filled the stage at Astley’s, and just as in Liverpool, few of them were willing to share their Billing with a Pig. Never the less, the Attraction having been such a success, I was to be given at least a Place, and a by-Line, stating that I had ‘just arrived from France’ (this was meant, I suppose, to lend a sort of Continental cachet to my Appearance), and that, having been examined by the foremost Academicians, I had been declared to be ‘the greatest production of Nature’ as well as ‘The Chief Philosopher of the Swinish Race’. Now I will say that I did not mind these Sobriquets half so much as one might think, but that they were not Honest, gave me considerable Pause. For what kind of Establishment, I wondered, would put in print such claims, so Patently and demonstrably False to anyone of knowledge or Means, unless it were simply to deceive the Poorer sort, who had no Idea of ‘France’ save what they read in the Papers?
All the same, the Realisation that I was about to become a Pig of greater Note was reinforced the next Day when there arrived a Tailor who declared he had been Sent for by the Proprietors. He duly took my Measurements, just as he would for any Human client, and returned the next morning with a Waistcoat of fine red Silk, with a pattern of small Paisley leaves. This garment was so well Fitted, that it seemed almost as Natural to me as my own Skin, only so much more Elegant, that I could not resist strutting about in it, and to this day it remains my most Prized possession. Thusly attired, I was attended that same Afternoon by a Painter, who was preparing a number of large canvas Banners, to be hung about the place depicting my varied Talents. Finally, as if all these other fittings-up for Fame were not enough, I was visited by Mr Sweet’s assistant, who gently Trimmed my Hoofs, then applied something described on its container as ‘Carr & Martin’s Hoof Liniment’. The process of Beautification was completed with an application of ‘Black Jack Enamel’, a sort of shoe-polish for Hoofs, which made them quite nearly as black and glossy as any piece of Human footwear. Had I the Ability, I should have almost wished to ask for a Mirror, in which I might Behold my new Appearance, but once the assistant was satisfied with his work, he Extinguished his lantern and left me in the dim light of the Inn-yard, where I could only Imagine it.
The next morning we went directly to the Amphitheatre after our Breakfast, where Rehearsals were already in progress. Each of the performers was established in a small, roped-in area to Practise while they awaited their Cue, and I was heartily Amazed at the variety of Oddities there Displayed. There was a troupe of Tight-rope walkers, led by a Monsieur Bussart, along with a Tumbler by the name of Monsieur Redigé: these were apparently the Artists in Residence of Astley’s, and conducted themselves as though they Owned the place. In the next area there was a Signor Scaglioni, whose dancing Dogs were a sight to behold as they cavorted, leapt and executed neat pirouettes. Near them, an exceedingly thin young gentleman by the name of Herr Hautknochen stood rehearsing his Singing Duck routine, which consisted of a variety of Comic songs, at key points of which he would Squeeze his Duck, which quite understandably let forth a loud and melodious Honk in response. Last, there was a most remarkable Woman, who went by the name of Signora Spagniola; she was practising an Act that required her to Dance with two Swords tied to her Feet, along with two Eggs—which remained miraculously Unbroken—all the while balancing on her Head a pair of Flower-pots upon a Board!
Amidst all these Novelties, there was a large troupe of Horses and Trick-riders, who were the Mainstay of the Establishment. Their performances were apparently so Frequent that they scarcely required any Rehearsal, and so they mostly stood about, idly executing handstands and adjusting the colourful trappings of their Mounts. Mr Sweet was their Director, and the Impresario of the place; it was he who was responsible for the entire evening’s programme, and who Announced each act as it was about to Appear. The word was given out that, whatever one did, one should not Cross him: he was known to drop an Act from his Bills at the least offence. For him, there was not one of us—excepting the Horses, of course—which was not Disposable; the public came to see ‘Astley’s’ and the name implied a certain Quality, a certain Class of Entertainment, which was far more Valuable to its proprietors than any mere Pig, or dog, or Duck and his Man.
We found our own place was to be at the end of the first part of the Bill, which was generally reserved for newcomers so that an element of Surprise would mitigate the risk of Disappointment. Mr Bisset, I believe, was somewhat forlorn to find that his own Cats, Dogs and Monkeys could have no place among the rest, but surely if he found Success with me, he might hope to displace the rival Hautknochens and Scaglionis of his trade. His foremost concern, however, was that our Show, modest though it was, not be Lost in the glare and vastness of this new Arena. Accordingly, he made a new set of Letters and Numbers on a much larger scale than the Old, so that they could easily be seen even in the galleries and cheap seats. These I found somewhat difficult to carry in my Mouth but, with some care, I managed to transport them without Mishap; my worst fear was of dropping one prematurely.
Mr Bisset himself had rented a new and far grander Suit, with a brand new silk Topper, and an enormous red velvet bow tie that to my mind stood poised Precariously on the edge of the Comical. I had seen a number of Acts in which Animals were dressed as Clowns, and could hardly think of anything more Degrading; it is bad enough for Humans to disguise their Folly in foolish Dress, but far worse for us, who have at least the dumb Grace of animal Sincerity. Never the less, Mr Bisset wore his Cravat with such style, and animated his Patter with such native Dignity, that I was reasonably confident he would be taken Seriously.
And so at last the moment of our Dublin début arrived. The Amphitheatre was filled to Capacity, though to what degree our Presence had anything to do with this, we could not say with any Certainty. The riding ring was freshly powdered with Sawdust, and bright stage-lights were Beamed upon it from a bank of lamps furnished with highly polished Reflectors; that the whole place did not go up in Flames was a wonder (and indeed, in later years, both this establishment and its London Parent were several times consumed by Fire, and each time Rebuilt). The thumping of the horses’ hoofs was conjoined with my own still faster Pulse, and the noise and lights made it seem an Impossible thing that a lowly Pig such as myself could Enter, and command the attention of the Crowd in so boisterous an Arena. The trick-riders completed their stunts, the Dancing dogs executed their Moves, and the celebrated singing Duck hit all his Notes—and now it was time for us to step forth into that Blaze of attention. Mr Sweet, summoning all the resonant force of his practised Stentorian voice, declared that ‘the Performances of this Animal are so truly
Astonishing, his Intelligence and Instinct so Great, that they appear to be the work of Magic, and his Sagacity leaves all who see him in a Maze of Wonder at this Extraordinary production of Nature—and so, Mesdames and Messieurs, may I present TOBY, the remarkable Sapient PIG!’ And so we stept forth.
In the glare of the Lights, I could scarce see any of the Audience, but only the brightly illuminated portion of the Ring within which my familiar Letters and Numbers were set forth—and so, despite the Enormity of the Crowd, I proceeded about my Act just as I always did, with Deliberation and Alacrity, and my eye always on Mr Bisset. He himself seemed to take a few moments to find his Voice, so vast was the Enclosure; he stood blotting his brow with a silken Kerchief, and blinking a bit in the Glare. Never the less, after my first Trick—which was answering his own Question as to Where we were (this, with a bit of Business, was drawn out into Comic routine, with my first answering, H-E-R-E and when pressed again, D-U-B-L-I-N, and finally spelling out, A-S-T-L-E-Y-S)—the Audience quite Roared its Approval, and he at once Recovered his Bearing in the Warmth of their Applause. Next, I answered a variety of queries he put to me about History and Philosophy, which were all, of course, Rehearsed, followed by an Invitation to take any kind of Question from the Audience.
This part of our Act, as may be imagined, quite regularly brought out all the Wiseacres and Drunkards in Attendance, as they were always quite Keen to prove a Pig a Fraud. My Master knew them well, and had in hand a series of Rebuffs, which generally Shamed them into silence, but here we were first confronted by a lovely young Woman, who simply asked, How I had felt on being Taken from the usual course of a pig’s Life, and obliged to Work for a Living. We had a stock answer, which was R-E-L-I-E-V-E-D, and that I speedily assembled. ‘Relieved in what way?’ persisted our Querent. And it was then, much to Mr Bisset’s lasting amazement, that I took the occasion to Spell out an answer of my own: N-O-T T-O B-E E-A-T-E-N. Everyone was Delighted with this reply, at which both Mr Bisset and I took a Bow, but I noticed as he did so that he cast his Eye on me, and hurled at me a Look—though whether of Wonder, or Disapproval, I could not tell. We then carried on with the remainder of our Act, in which I told the Time, guessed people’s names and Ages, and played a game of Cards, and each new performance drew fresh Applause and shouts. We had, it was apparent, quite won Over the Crowd at Astley’s, and could have hoped for no better result than the general Adulation of that body—for whatever the proprietor’s or the Public’s views upon Pigs, there was no arguing with Success.
The next Morning, we were visited by a Newspaper man, who wished to work up a Piece on us for the Freeman’s Journal, said to be the leading paper of the City. He was a jolly fellow, Mr Robinson by name, and not only interviewed Mr Bisset, but insisted on seeing me, and putting to me a variety of questions. From this latter interview, he learnt that I was from Salford, that I had previously appeared in Liverpool, that I was two Years, one Month and eleven Days of Age, and that I found the accommodations at the Inn most satisfactory. All this was indeed written up in the next Issue, which Sam obtained and brought to me for my Perusal; while, of course, I had always taken some pride in my Handbills, it was a new and very grand feeling to see myself named in a Newspaper. In the meantime, Mr Bisset was making his social calls, and receiving numerous demands for Private performances, every one of which he politely Declined. For indeed, as he said to Sam later, were he to Answer every one of these Calls, the wind would be quite taken out of the Sails of the public Shows, for it was only because our performances were Scarce that they were Valuable. It was not until quite late in the day that he and I found ourselves Unattended, and then he cast me a Look that I shall never Forget.
‘Now listen here, Toby,’ he declared. ‘I don’t know how you’ve done it, or who’s put you up to this foolishness—though I have a fair guess!—but I’ll not have you Upstaging me, not ever again! Man over Pig, that’s how it has always Been, and how it must Be. A little learning is a dangerous thing, it’s said, but Understand me now: any more Learning of that sort will be a far greater Danger to you, so long as you’re in my Keeping. Have a mind! I can always take you to Market, and trade you for another Pig who’ll learn just as Well. There’s money to be had, so long as an Educated Pig minds his Lessons, and his Schoolmaster—that’s what people want to see—but no one will put down a Farthing to behold a Pig as its own master! Now you will Mind your Letters, and take your Cue from me, or I shall do away with you, quick as Thought—do you hear? You may make your way through the World however you like, but were it not for Me, you’d have no Admirers on this side of a Butcher’s window! And as for that worthless, impudent Boy, it’s he who put you up to this, I’ll wager my faith! The ingrate! I’ll not have him about, I tell you! There’s room for only one Master in this room, and I’ll tan his Hide who hinders me!’
This Discourse, which was delivered in an undertone of Rage unlike anything else I had heard from a Human mouth, in an Instant disabused me of what little faith I had in Humanity. I knew, as certainly as I know Now, that there are Degrees of Every thing, but to see Mr Bisset in this light cast a new sort of Darkness over my entire Career. A kind heart he had Not; it was all for his Convenience, his Reputation, his Pride that he had trained me, and as to his avoidance of Meat, I was sure now that was only a Feint designed to Lull his Animal tenants into a False sense of Security. No man ever looked more ready to Slaughter and Eat his interlocutor on the spot than did Mr Bisset on that occasion. I reproached Myself—I should have seen his true Character before, should have trusted the Fear that I first felt on discovering his Demesne, and seeing his Working of it! But most of all, I felt a true Horror at the idea that my Benefactor, the only person upon whose Goodness I could rely Absolutely, was to be sundered from me. Such a thing must not be! But how I could prevent it, I could not at that time Imagine, so bleak and hopeless my Situation seemed.
We completed our run of two Weeks in Dublin, although after that first Night, I scarcely allowed them to Register upon my mind. They passed, instead, in a sort of a Blur, like a rapid series of Dissolving-views thrown upon the Wall by a Magic Lantern. Sam was, in fact, not immediately Dismissed, but forbidden to be Alone with me, and put to work for Mr Sweet at a variety of menial tasks that were, I am certain, Designed to keep him occupied, and unable to assist me. Indeed, I overheard some Talk between my two Masters that they might very well arrange for him to ‘stay on’, which would mean that our departure from Dublin would be my leave-taking of Sam. This thought, combined with the sense of both Fear and Loathing with which I now regarded Mr Bisset, kept me in a sort of cool Terror throughout these weeks; it was only by closing off my Mind to such thoughts, and focusing solely on my business with the Letters and the Numbers, that I managed to keep my Wits.
And after the last evening, when Mr Bisset was paid off, my worst fears, alas, came True. He was a Wealthy man now, with well over two hundred Pounds to his credit, and a bundle of Letters inviting him to engagements in dozens of Towns throughout Britain. He had Promoted himself to a new Frock Coat, and his Cravat was now all of Silk, as were his Hose; a gleaming pair of jet-black boots completed his outfit, and he looked every inch a Man of Parts. For myself, I retained not only my Waistcoat but a small Medallion, given me by one of the Ladies in attendance, in the shape of a red ribbon with a silver Oval. It was, in fact, she told me, a medal that one of her late Paramours had been given for his excellence in Oratory, and she declared that I had a better Right to it than He. Never the less, I would have abandoned both of these idle Adornments, if only they could have purchased the continued company of my Benefactor, without whom I could hardly conceive of continuing in Life. I do believe that, had not Circumstances intervened, I would sooner have allowed my Master to sell me for my Bacon than ever again perform for him, whose cruelty in severing me from my lifelong Friend was Unconscionable.
That night Sam managed to come to me, having crept out of the rooms where the Stable-hands at Astley’s were lodged, scaled a fence
and run round to the Inn-yard where I was caged. Many were our tears, and they would have been matched by Cries as well, had we not known that any Noise would bring the Master’s Wrath upon us. Sam swore repeatedly that he would not Live without me, and I the same to him, using the little cards he still kept in his Pocket. He had grown in the past few months—indeed, he now looked a strapping young Lad—but to me he was still the boy who had clung to that Wagon as it raced down rutted lanes and round sharp corners, the boy who had Stayed when anyone else would have simply Abandoned all Hope. He remained with me almost until the Dawn, and left with the Promise that somehow, in spite of Sorrow, our ways would Cross again. Sam’s last gift to me was my blue Ribbon from the Fair, which, much to my Surprise, he had retained all this time. He now pinned it upon my Waistcoat, gave me a final Embrace, and then was Gone.
9
Mr Bisset was up before the Sun the next Morning, directing the porters at the Inn on how to load up his Wagon. I was soon hefted up in my Enclosure and lashed to my neighbours with strong leather straps, as securely as any Prisoner in Newgate. From the talk I had heard, we were to take a Northern course, stopping in Drumcondra, Drogheda, Dundalk, Banbridge and, lastly, Belfast, these places constituting an impromptu Irish tour on our way back to England. Mr Bisset meant eventually to get to London, where the scales of Fame weighed the Heaviest, but he was loath to pass up any opportunity along the Way. From Belfast, we would take ship, returning by way of Liverpool, Chester, Stoke-on-Trent, Birmingham and Northampton, the old showman’s circuit, before arriving in the great Metropolis where he had already secured a promise of a month-long engagement at Astley’s principal establishment, adjacent to Westminster Bridge.
Pyg Page 5