Pyg (13 page)

The next morning, as the first of Phoebus’s beams was peeping over the ancient walls of Chester, we set out upon our way. And a weary way it was to be, for in nearly every
town upon our route we were obliged to rethread the needle of our plans, as the authorities of every place unravelled them. We could only perform on a market-day, and these varied greatly from town
to town; we could only perform within the market-square, or we could only perform
outside
it; we had to pass inspection of the Mayor, or the Bailiffs and Aldermen, or the Nuisance Authority,
or the Examiner of Showmen and Van Dwellers. With each inspection, as a matter of course, came a Fee—sometimes as little as ten shillings, but often as great as five pounds, such that we were
only rarely able to leave a town with any more money than we had had at the moment of our arrival, and frequently with less. What with lodging and food for our company, our twenty pounds were soon
whittled down to twelve, to ten, to eight and to four. As we left Banbury for Oxford, we had but twelve Shillings to our name.

As for Audiences in these towns, I may say (I hope) without giving offence to any one place in Particular, that they were almost without exception raucous, disorderly and Rude. The Questions
they posed to me were shouted and strewn with obscenities; the noise and the clatter of carts and street-sellers often quite overwhelmed my Benefactor, even when he declaimed at the very Top of his
Voice. Small children poked me with carrots and twigs, threw rotted vegetables at the Cats and Monkeys, and took great delight in banging pots and pans to frighten the Horses. It was here, I
believe, that our training by Mr Bisset proved its worth, for despite our Animal natures, we were not half so
Beastly
as the Humans in our midst. As for Sam, while these days were indeed a
great Trial, they were also a sort of Crucible in which his baser Metals were by degrees burnt away, and his purer and Nobler substance Proofed against the corrosive contents of the human Stew. A
showman’s life, alas, is not all
Glory
, for beneath the glitter and the tinsel lies much heartache, and the open road is often strewn with Thorns. Never the less, it is not a life that
few who have come to know it would willingly set aside, even if Easier and Quieter occupations were softly to offer their Alternatives. Perhaps if our road had come to an end
Prematurely
,
and our appearance in Banbury had been our last, we might have felt a twinge of Regret, but it was a wise chance that brought us next to Oxford Town, where our mutual Fortunes were to take a
strange turn that neither of us could have anticipated.

The city of Oxford possesses a distinction that, even before I laid eyes upon it, places it in a most Favourable light: it contains within it the name of an
Animal.
You
may prate if you will of other such towns, and scribblers may speculate all they like as to the origins of Shrewsbury, Ramsgate, Swanage, or Sparrows
Green.
I have heard tell even of a town
named Swindon, whose name is said to derive from a Saxon compound meaning ‘the swine’s hill’. But of all these fair places, there is none that remains so dear to me as Oxford, for
it was there that my
Education
, having already proceeded as far as my Benefactor’s little learning could take it, was so much further Developed that I could at last answer honestly to
the Sobriquet of ‘the Sapient Pig’.

Yet another—and, at the time, seemingly more significant—feature of the town of Oxford was St Giles’s Fair, held from the first of September since the days of Queen Elizabeth,
at a site adjacent to the Church of St
Giles
, where the Woodstock and Banbury Roads converged. It had taken diverse forms over the centuries, with sundry trades—the Gypsies with their
heaps of China plates, the husbandmen of Oxfordshire with their livestock and cider, the toy-merchants with their dolls and miniature theatres—having precedence for sundry epochs, but with
all being given at least
some
portion of the
Pitch.
The tariffs for this fair were not inconsiderable, and indeed our entire remaining purse of twelve shillings was thus
forfeited—but the takings were likely to be far greater, for the officials were more welcoming than at other such Fairs, and its fame went far and wide. One hears now and then of the tensions
between ‘Town and Gown’ in such places, but falling as it did within the Long
Vacation
, St Giles’s Fair was unequivocally a
Town
affair, and thus all the better
attended by the common folk for miles around.

We arrived the night before its commencement and, having paid our Tariff, found lodgings nearby at a small Inn adjacent to a cider-house known as the Spotted Cow, which suited us well. For,
although Sam and Bannon were put up in a cramped room with three other men, it had a leaded-glass
Window
that overlooked the Inn-yard, such that they could keep a watchful Eye upon myself
and the other
Animals.
The whole place was filled with exhibitors, many of whom regaled the crowd with previews of their Attractions; among them we saw a Gypsy dancer who played with great
skill upon the Tambourine, a Juggler who managed five flaming Torches at once, and an operator of the
Lanterna Magica
who threw macabre pictures of Skellingtons and
Witches
upon the
Walls. My Benefactor fancied at first that he might give some Demonstration of my abilities, but thought the better of it after we narrowly escaped being
Trampled
by a passing party of
Revellers carousing down the road. And so, rather than risking our necks in the crowded streets, we retired Early to our beds, that we might be the better
Rested
for our show.

We were very glad of it the next Morning, for we took our Breakfast while the other denizens of the Inn slept on, oblivious to the dawning of the day. We reached the pitch well before them and
were able to lay claim to an excellent Position, in the midst of a patch of green near the foot of St. Giles’s cemetery, just opposite Black
Hall
. Here we soon drew a considerable
crowd, as we were very nearly the first outpost of the Fair that travellers from the North encountered. Indeed, on several occasions, the town officers had to come round and clear the road of
carriages, many of which had pulled over so that their passengers could take in our Show. We now greatly expanded our Bills, as much for our own relief as to add Variety to the programme, and
brought back some parts of our Act—such as the telling of time and the reading of minds, which had been abandoned in the course of our Provincial tour. The result was that on the second day
of the Fair we were even better attended than on the First, and were near to Exhaustion with Encores.

It was near the end of this day, and thus of the Fair itself, that we were approached after one performance by an elderly gentleman, dressed in the plain frock coat and bands of a churchman. As
he conversed, he seemed to be smiling quietly to himself, as though he knew, or suspected he knew, some secret about us. He particularly wished to be introduced to me, and his manner was
surprisingly natural. He bowed slightly, then turned to my Benefactor, whispering something in his Ear. Poor Sam blushed a bit but, not wanting to give offence, nodded—evidently agreeing to
something the man had proposed, after which he stept back, permitting the old gentleman to examine the pasteboard Letters employed in my Performances. The man did not, as did most, turn them over
in his hand to look for tricks or ruses, but instead quickly selected a great handful of them, which he then turned and placed upon the ground. I approached with great Curiosity, and saw that he
had from them formed this Sentence: I-S I-T T-R-U-E T-H-A-T Y-O-U C-A-N R-E-A-D A-S W-E-L-L. At which, quite without thinking about it, I dashed over and spelt out: Y-E-S. The old fellow then took
out a book from his satchel, and laid it before me. I saw that it was a copy of
Ruddiman
’
s Rudiments of the Latin Tongue
, a common school primer of the day. This time he did not
spell, but asked me directly: ‘Mr Toby, are you acquainted with the Latin language?’

To which, of course, I spelt out: N-O.

‘Remarkable! Truly remarkable. To know the limits of one’s learning is knowledge indeed, and as scarce—I dare say—among Humans as those of the
Porcine
race.’
He then turned from me to Sam. ‘Mr Nicholson, have you trained this pig?’

‘I have, sir—well, my former master, Mr Bisset, gave him his first training, but I continued it. He taught him only to spell out words on command. I was the one as taught him to
read, sir.’

‘And you did not think it a Waste of learning to bestow it upon a pig?’

‘Not at all, sir. Why, he had a liking for it from the start. Besides, what good is it, to pig or man, to spend one’s whole career following commands in ignorance of their meaning or
effect?’

‘And to what purpose?’

‘Why, for his enjoyment, sir. And mine.’

‘And for the Exhibition of these talents to the Public, you mean.’

‘Well, yes. We all have to make a living, sir. But I never made reading part of the Act, sir. You see, if people had known that Toby could
read
, they’d have thought the
less
of him, odd as it seems. Better they think it a miracle, or some Trick they can’t see through.’

‘Yes. A showman must please the multitude. But what of yourself? What, more to the point, of Toby? Is there not a certain weariness in being bound to the Stage? Is there no more nectar to
be had in other Pastures?’

‘Why, surely there is, sir. But how should we have it? We have to pay our costs and our carriage. All must have their food, their straw and their shelter.’

‘Yes, indeed. Well! You know the history of this University?’

‘I know it’s old, sir.’

‘Yes—more than six hundred years old. But in its day, it was little more than such a pasture. The hunger and thirst for learning made men linger here, and to sustain themselves in
that endeavour, they made arrangements for food and shelter. The spirit must lead the mind, and the mind the body, not the other way about.’

‘I’m sure you’re right, sir. But not all of us have the ability to follow your good advice.
Stomach
calls, and the legs must needs follow, carrying mind and spirit with
them—if you take my meaning, sir.’

At this the old gentleman let out a long and hearty laugh, and clapped Sam on his back, at last declaring, ‘Well said, well said. I must be off now, but if you would do me the courtesy of
calling upon me before you leave Oxford, I would very much like to receive you.’

To this Sam readily agreed, and was given an address upon a card. Having several more shows to do, we did not examine it until long after his departure, when we were gathered about a table in
the yard of the Spotted Cow, myself having (for the occasion) a pint of Porter in a bowl set beside my customary meal of Oats. It read simply:

This name meant nothing to us, though we assumed he was some Fellow or Tutor, and we decided to call upon him the next morning, as we were due to move on to the Salisbury Arms
in the village of South Weston for a show the following day. It was only by chance that Sam mentioned the name to the Innkeeper, who at once let out a low whistle.

‘Dr Adams! Don’t you know? Why he’s the Master of Pembroke, and a great man, for he was the Tutor of a still greater man.’

‘And who would that be?’

‘Why, Dr Johnson, of course! You know, he as wrote the
Dictionary
, and many another book besides.’

Which news amazed us both, for while we might know little of the doings of
Schollers
in their Gothic alcoves, it seemed that
everyone
knew of Dr Johnson. Indeed, among the modest
shelf of books I could claim to my credit, his
Rasselas
was one of my favourites, and I had a neat little copy in
Duodecimo
among my personal Belongings.