Pyg. Russell Potter
by Samuel Croxall for the use of the eldest Son of Viscount Sunbury, who had been at the time just Five years of Age. It featured small wood-cuts at the Head of each tale, which were of great help in my Understanding their Sense, and since the Characters within were all represented as Animals, I readily learnt their names. It struck me at once that these so-called Animals were far more Foolish in their nature than any in my Acquaintance, but I soon realised they were but Figures, standing in for the Folly of Man—and, as Men are very foolish, the stories were many, and a great source of Pleasure. I should note here that our usual Practice was for Sam to read the tale aloud, directing me to the New or harder words as he did so, and repeating them until he was sure I had their Sense. By this means, we proceeded far more Quickly than if, as Human children do, I had to manage to Speak before I could Read.
Before long, we could see the signs that Mr Bisset was at last Preparing to set his Show before the Public. By turns, the Cats, the Dogs, Finches, Monkeys, a Hare and, finally a group of Turkeys were all led into the Practice room and marched through their routines at double-time. All had been instructed along similar lines to those I had experienced, with Repetition being the Key, and a series of soft, sharp signals the Prod for them to go through their Paces. The doors were now left open, and I was able to see the Monkeys dance, walk a tight-rope, and play a Barrel-organ, observe the Cats at play upon their Dulcimers and regard the poor Hare beating a drum with a Mallet attached to his Tail. The only group of Animals that had no training as such was the Turkeys, and here I must confess that Mr Bisset hit upon an expedient that did him little Justice, and would have greatly Dimmed the applause had anyone Known of it: he simply placed them in a small wire enclosure, the floor of which was heated to the point where it became uncomfortable to Stand, and the efforts of these poor Birds to avoid scalding their Feet produced the ‘Country Dance’ advertised.
Each day of the week that followed, we were visited by a constant stream of tradesmen with their vans, who delivered specially built cases for the Animals, loads of fresh Straw, canvas dividers and drop-scenes, and stacks of handbills printed on brightly coloured paper. A large wagon, hitherto covered and hidden in a far corner of the Barn, was brought forth, and carefully painted and refurbished. A much-Splattered man with an immense bucket of brushes appeared one morning; although a carriage-painter by trade, he fancied himself a far worthier artist than that, and approached the task at Hand with the gusto of a minor Michelangelo. On each side of the wagon, he painted several oval cartouches depicting scenes of Mr Bisset’s performing Animals; I am somewhat Ashamed to say that I was Delighted to find Myself the subject of the central, and largest of these. ‘THE REMARKABLE SAPIENT PIG,’ he wrote in letters of red edged with gold, and had I the ability not merely to Read but to Speak, I am certain I could have given him the Shock of a Life-time, by quoting those very words back to him. The next day, the word was given out—or the Sense of it, at any rate—that we were to Leave on the Morrow, and once again, I wondered at the capacities of the World, and at the Strange and Singular path my way through it had so far Taken, and appeared very likely to take Again.
6
My next Progress through the World was far more Comfortable than my Last. Rather than being jostled about in utter darkness in a gloomy enclosure filled with foetid Straw, I was ensconced in a lovely wooden Case, so spacious one might almost call it a Room, fitted with a small Trough of clear water and a stack of fresh Carrots, with clean grass for my Bed and a view of the Road before me. This Case was cleverly fitted with a wooden Rim about the bottom, so that it held close to, and stayed secure atop, the other Crates beneath and beside it, all of which were secured with heavy leather Straps. The Horses trotted along in their curious Manner, directed by Mr Bisset without the use of any Whip or other device such as a coach-driver would employ, but only by his Voice, and in a manner so efficient that he never needed to Shout, but that the Horses would speed, or slow, or turn, or halt, in such a Natural manner that it seemed almost as though the idea was their Own, and not an act of Obedience to another.
Our Tour, for so it was to be, commenced in the smaller Market towns along the road that led from Manchester to Liverpool, passing through Warrington, Newton-le-Willows, Wigan and Prescot. By this Progress, or so I inferred, Mr Bisset hoped we might work the Rough edges off our Act in smaller venues, where audiences were more forgiving, before we unveiled our Production to the more Discriminating show-goers of the larger Towns and Cities. There was, I discovered, a regular Calendar-full of Charter fairs in each of these towns, held for time out of mind on certain set dates, typically the Feast-day of some local Saint. Apparently these Saints must all have been Patrons of Commerce, for they very conveniently arranged that their Festivals would follow in perfect sequence, so that a travelling showman, such as Mr Bisset, could attend each one of them in Sequence, without having to backtrack or sit idly, from the middle of May to the end of June.
Being relative Upstarts in the show-world, we were generally relegated to the less frequented part of the Pitch, as a fairground is known, while more experienced showmen had the advantage of the best Ground, where the greater number of people would Pass. Never the less, I believe we readily overcame this disadvantage, due in large part to Mr Bisset’s canny nature, and Sam’s limitless energy. The Horses were our chief Ambassadors: outfitted with colourful Caparisons advertising our Show, they processed through the fair, pausing every so often to perform a series of Tricks. They were so well trained that, at a single Word, they would execute their full routine, as well for Sam as for their Master. Sam had only to learn the bit of patter that accompanied their act, and to lead them from place to place. By the time they returned to their Stalls, they had each brought a dozen or more fair-goers in their Train, and as every showman knows, having a Crowd is the best way to attract a larger one.
The opening routines with the dogs and monkeys were, to my mind, of a very Ordinary sort, but they were colourfully arranged, with each calculated to be just slightly more impressive than the last. The final scene, where one of the monkeys rode upon the back of a Dog, which executed a series of Leaps while the second monkey played a Barrel-organ, excited Universal shouts of pleasure, especially from the Children present. This was followed by the ‘Cat Opera’ in which a line of three Felines sat on silken cushions and struck at Dulcimers, all the while seeming very earnestly to read the Sheet-music set before them. At the same time, a series of Tom-cats would come a-caterwauling, yowling along with the music in a very tuneful manner—for Cats, at least. This opera then gave way to a brief Circus, in which cats rode a Barrel down a Rope, climbed a pole and sprang into a Net, and batted a great Wicker ball around a Ring. The Hare then beat upon the Drum with his Tail, while the Turkeys executed their ‘Country Dance’; it required only a Modicum of Imagination to suppose that they actually moved to this Music, rather than leaping about to avoid burning their Feet.
All this was but a Prelude to my Appearance, which at first gave me a considerable fit of Anxiety. A performer is fortunate, I have since felt, if he struts upon the Stage only in the opening Act, like the guards of Elsinore in Hamlet: they have no one to follow, but all else must Follow them. Whereas, if one’s Cue comes late upon the Bill, one must follow, and seem to Exceed, every Act that has come before. On my very first performance, I was most Reluctant to emerge from my Compartment, so much so that Mr Bisset rapped upon the Enclosure with his Cane, which sent me scurrying forth quite abruptly, and to much Laughter on the part of the Crowd. Happily, I soon recovered my Composure, and turned my mind entirely to the Task at hand, for which Mr Bisset was an admirable Guide. He had taken the Precaution of asking those who wished their Questions addressed by the wonderful Sapient Pig, to fill in cards with their names and their questions written upon them (if they Could not write, then Sam would take down their Particulars). Mr Bisset held these cards in his hand quite Openly, for of course it did not occur to anyone that he had any means of Communicating their contents to me. He would shuffle them up a bit—in fact, making sure that there were not two persons named ‘John’ or similarly common names as ‘Tom’ and ‘Tim’ as these would risk, however slightly, the audience catching on to his Signals. He varied the words he chose quite astutely, and occasionally would use his Shoe to scuff out the