Pyg (16 page)

He measured and weighed me most carefully (I was relieved to discover I was now eighteen stone and six pounds, only a modest loss of weight since my days as a Prize Pig), and interviewed me as
to my life and background; here Sam was of great assistance, as I had to confess my earliest life to have been a period of absolute Ignorance.

We passed a most pleasant Evening, and the next morning enjoyed a large and hearty Breakfast. I was relieved to see that, the Cook having rather thoughtlessly prepared a large Sausage, Mr
Morgann refused it, sending it back to the kitchen with the wry request that it be given ‘a decent burial’; in its place he and we enjoyed oaten bread, accompanied by fresh milk and
Cheese from His Lordship’s estates. Our next day’s journey brought us still nearer to the outskirts of the Great Metropolis, passing through Uxbridge, whose high street was lined with
solid buildings of timber, brick and stone. On the edge of the town, we came upon a large brick building of several storeys in height, which we were informed was a Factory for the making of
Chairs
; a Blacksmith’s forge, a large Brewery and Malt-house stood immediately adjacent, each pumping out its differing
Fumes
into the Sky. The whole area seemed to be a
veritable Hive of industry, and the people, bee-like, were so engaged with the buzz of their Business that the arrival of a wagon proclaiming a Learned Pig within was hardly worth a glance. In
their dark monotony, these men reminded me of the poor folk of Drumcondra in Ireland, save that they seemed a more purposeful, hardened, sharp and Flint-like clan as they clanked along the cobbled
streets in their hob-nailed boots; theirs was not a life of lassitude but of
Labour
, the sort of men whose motto might well be
absque labore nihil
.

We stayed that night at an Inn with the curious name of the Crown and Treaty; it was here, I was given to understand, that King Charles I had negotiated with the leaders of the Parliamentary
forces. Being conveniently situated to the highway, and equipped with large and well-run Stables, it was a favourite among coachmen; our stay there was pleasant enough, although I was constantly
awakened through the night as tired horses were brought In, and fresh horses
Out
, it being the first and last stop for all travellers to and from London to points West and North. We were
quite ready to leave the next morning, and took our Breakfast cold, and found that a heavy mist lay upon the road, which shrouded us from the Views of the approaching Metropolis, had there been
any. All we could tell was that, the moment the way grew wider, it grew more crowded, as the throng and jostle of carts, horses, pedlars, costermongers, beggars, street-performers and errand-boys
grew ever so much faster than the Street (for so it had now become) could manage to accommodate. It was a market-day, and this, I suppose, made things the worse for us, though the natives were so
inured to such Bustle, that they had long ago ceased taking Notice of it, and carried on through the
Chaos
just as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

We soon found ourselves in the neighbourhood of Kensington, where the traffic grew (if possible) still denser, and we began to despair of making much further progress. Before long, we came upon
a narrow Inn, with the name of the Half-Way House, though what points it stood between we did not know; in any case, Dr Adams had advised us explicitly to avoid it, as it was, in his opinion, a
frequent resort of Highwaymen and pick-pockets. Instead, we battled our way eastwards, twisting through the narrow avenues of Piccadilly, where the ever-more-malodorous Mist took on the scents of
urine, smoke and rotting vegetables. Finally, we came to Drury Lane, passing by the venerable portico of the Theatre Royal, and arrived at last at the hostelry Dr Adams had recommended, the White
Hart Inn.

The proprietor, one Mr Lockyer, welcomed us most warmly, and brought us to a pair of rooms conveniently situated near to the Stables, such that Sam and I shared a communicating Door; these were
the usual quarters of the Stablemaster, but had been vacated in our Favour. This singular kindness, our host informed us, was entirely due to Dr Adams, who had written some weeks in advance with a
request with which he was very glad to Comply, the learned man having so often been a Guest of his. There was, we later learnt, more to their connection: Mr Lockyer’s eldest son had been in
large part supported by Dr Adams while an undergraduate, a favour his father had never forgotten.

We found the Inn to be most comfortable, and took our Supper in our rooms, while Sam and I looked over our remaining letters of Introduction, to see what our next step should be. Dr Adams had
written, with great flourish, to Joseph Banks, the President of the Royal Society, whose offices were but a short distance away at Montagu House in Great Russell Street. We were a little abashed to
call upon such a Luminary, but were assured he would receive us; the other letters were addressed to John Sheldon, a leading Anatomist, Richard Kirwan, the Chemist, and William Aiton, the
Superintendent at Kew Botanical Gardens. I declared then and there that I would rather meet with Banks than with any of the others, having no desire as yet to be Autopsied, Analysed, or served up
with a
Garnish
; besides, were Banks to take my case in hand, surely the others would follow, whereas if I had my first audience with lesser men, their fellows might still require
Persuasion
.

Having no other pressing Business, we headed out on foot the next morning, which we were relieved to see had dawned clear and crisp, the pestilent Fog having lifted, and autumnal breezes scoured
the City of its effects. It was but a walk of perhaps ten minutes to Montagu House, which was home to the British Museum as well as the Royal Society; we ascended the front steps, and my Benefactor
handed his Card to the uniformed doorman, mentioning that he had with him an introduction to Mr Banks.

‘Very well, sir, you may go in—but your pig must remain outside,’ added that gentleman, as we moved to enter.

‘He’s not
my
pig, sir—he is entirely his
own
—and it is he, specifically, that Mr Banks will most want to see,’ Sam insisted.

‘Is he then a
Specimen
?’

‘Certainly not! I’ll have you know Toby is an
Educated
pig; he has just completed a year of study at Oxford.’

This was too much for the doorman, who concluded that our visit must be some sort of Prank; he laid his hands on both of us, and forcibly escorted us down the stairs and out of the gate. I urged
Sam to make the attempt alone, assuring him that I would not be in the least inconvenienced to Wait for him outside, but a glance from the doorman seemed to threaten even that attempt, and we
backed off and slunk away down the street. Having failed in our first Foray into the lair of the Learned, we decided that we might fare better with Mr Sheldon. As Sam reminded me, Sheldon was
prominent among those who had insisted that anatomy be pursued by the study of
Human
cadavers, whereas in the past surgeons had had to study Pigs in their place, and thus, despite his skill
with the Knife, he was in fact a benefactor to my Kind. His Anatomical Museum in Tottenham-court Road was not much more than a mile distant, and we arrived there within the hour. The housekeeper
who replied to our knock explained that the Museum was closed, but on Sam’s mentioning our letter of introduction, asked us both in (though not without a bemused glance at my Person) and said
she would deliver our message.

We found ourselves in a room walled with glass cases, within which stood a vast array of anatomical specimens, mostly skeletal and mounted, though there were some hanging from armatures, or
floating within jars. Two or three complete human skeletons reclined—if that is the right word for it—in a corner, while in another recess were set row upon row of skulls. There was a
distant sound of voices, then the determined series of steps that quickly brought to the doorway the figure of Mr Sheldon. He was of modest height, with a sharp but not unfriendly nose; he wore no
wig, and his collar was but loosely tied; over his coat he wore a sort of muslin smock, and his sleeves bore the stains of various powdery substances. He looked at Sam, and then at me, and then at
Sam once more, seeming to suppress a smile, but maintaining a serious and piercing gaze with his two grey eyes.

‘Mr Samuel Nicholson?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And, let me see . . .
Toby
, is it?’

I made a slight and (I hoped) graceful bow.

Mr Sheldon could hide his delight no more, but broke into a wry smile. ‘My good fellows, word of your arrival precedes you—I had a letter from Dr Adams a fortnight ago—you are
most welcome! But I must confess, until I had seen you with my own eyes, I was not certain of you—no, not certain at all! But now that we have met, I am sure we shall do each other great
benefit! Great benefit indeed!’

So saying, he motioned us to join him in a small room adjoining, where some cheese and bread had been set out for a modest luncheon; at his summons, the maid brought out two more loaves, and a
bowl of whey, which was set before me. He asked after our journey, and whether we had found our lodgings satisfactory, and laughed greatly at our account of our reception—or lack
thereof—by the doorman at Montagu House.

‘Well, Banks will see you—of that I have no doubt—but of course, he is frightfully busy, always is. The man’s mind is like a copious index—an entry for every thing,
but once entered, only consulted sporadically. Yes, that’s it. But here, I think, we can do more for you, perhaps arrange for a little demonstration for some select friends. You would not be
averse to that, Toby?’

‘Not at all,’ was my reply (Sam by this time having furnished me with my cards).

‘Still, I must say, I was a little surprised to hear you are engaged upon the public stage as well. Can it be so?’

Sam and I looked at one another, our puzzlement quite evident.

‘What—then is there no truth in the bills? Surely you have seen them.’

So saying, Mr Sheldon produced a handbill whose contents filled me with amazement (at first) and then with rage. The scoundrels! For here were my late fellows from my engagement at
Astley’s in Dublin—none other than Signore
Scaglioni
, Herr
Hautknochen,
and ‘La Belle Espagnole’—and they were appearing with a creature advertised as
‘Toby, the Sagacious PIG, who reckons the number of people present, tells the time by a Gentleman’s watch, and distinguishes all sort of Colours’ and all this was to be seen, this
very evening, at the Theatre Royal at Sadler’s Wells, for a mere two shillings!

‘This is a rank impostor!’ I declared.

‘Aha! I rather thought so. His talents did seem a good deal more rudimentary than yours,’ he replied.

If I could have blushed, I would—my consternation was evident.

‘But what will you do? Surely your name and reputation must be defended!’

‘Maybe,’ said Sam, ‘we should attend the show!’

‘And what then?’ Mr Sheldon shot back. ‘A duel?’

‘No, not a duel, but a Contest. Surely our Toby here would carry away the laurels!’

‘How do you propose to get him
in
?’

This was a more considerable problem. For, however much people would flock to behold an
Educated
Pig, there was (in my experience) nary a Pig in attendance; nor would one be expected. Any
attempt I might make to enter the premises would surely raise unwanted attention, and cause such a stir that the hoped-for contest would be impossible.

‘What if we were to issue a challenge?’ asked Mr Sheldon. ‘Invite this young Pretender, at a place and time of our choosing, and trounce him with your superior Knowledge and
Skill! Surely he could not refuse.’

‘That’s it!’ declared Sam. ‘And we could have learned witnesses—yourself, sir, if you’re willing—to vouch for the Results!’

To this Plan, I quickly gave my Assent, although not without some
Reservations
. For while I had little doubt that I would Prevail, I dreaded a return to my old life of the Shows, to which
I had become quite Unaccustomed, and felt that, whoever the witnesses might be, there would be no preventing such a contest from becoming an untoward
Spectacle
, one at which even a Victory
would not redound to my Benefit. Never the less, assured both by Sam and our new Friend that the circumstances would be most carefully Managed, and that every Care would be taken to ensure that our
contest was purely
Intellectual
in nature, I decided to risk All. At its very base, there is nothing so like to burst that bubble
Reputation
as the Pin of a rival, a
poseur
, a
Doppelgänger
who sits grinning in one’s own Chair, and dares one to be seated!

Mr Sheldon took it in hand to write to the performers at Sadler’s Wells, and had his letter delivered by messenger that same afternoon. We were pleased to receive a reply
the next day, to the effect that our Challenge was accepted. As neutral ground, our opponents proposed the Academy Room at the Lyceum, Strand, where, just in the manner of a
Duel
, each side
could propose its Weapons, and nominate its Seconds. A body of twelve men of good Reputation, six chosen by each Side, would serve as a sort of Jury, and Mr Lingham, the lessee of those Premises,
would be the Chairman of this group
ex officio
, as a non-voting member, of course. Everything seemed to be in order, and we soon sat down to determine
Who
, among the many learned men
we had at our disposal, would be ideal to serve upon our Panel.