Pyg (6 page)

There was a Hush, always, as I picked out the letters and numbers, and a great Cry of amazement when I spelt out just the answer. Besides getting the names, the Questions were all fairly Common:
young Maids wanted to know if they would be married, and how many Children they would have, and would they have a lovely Home; Boys wanted me to guess their Age, and never complained if I Added to
the Figure, while
Men
—who rarely participated, unless at the Insistence of their Wives—asked about only the most practical sorts of things, such as what price Apples would bring
at Market this year, or what Horse they should wager upon at the
Races.
And my Master, since he made it his business to know a great deal about exactly such matters, was always able to give
me a serviceable Reply, and when a Guess had to be made, one that pleased the Querent. At the end of my performance, I was to make a little Bow, and spell out ‘G-O-O-D-B-Y-E’, which
always led to a great round of Applause, and a great take at the Nobbins (which is what we showfolk call the Money that is dropped in as a
Hat
is Passed).

We did a very good business indeed at these Fairs, and by the time we arrived at the town of Prescot, we had taken in nearly a hundred
Pounds
, and Mr Bisset gave it out to Sam that we
might consider carrying on to Liverpool, where he had a Friend who was the Proprietor of a
Garden,
said to be a veritable
Vauxhall
in Miniature, where we might draw far larger Crowds.
There was only one Difficulty with this Plan, and that was the matter of Licences. The Magistrates in those days were often simply Men of the Town, of some Age and Dignity, whose usual purview was
small disputes over Property, or minor civil offenders such as Disturbers of the
Peace.
When the time came each year for the Fair, they quite naturally extracted a Fee from all who would
exhibit there. The fee was a standard one—amounts of five pounds or thereabouts were common—but the Magistrate was quite free to Increase it, for any arbitrary Reason, or, should the
mood take him, to
deny
a Licence, even when a man was quite Ready to pay for it. Agricultural exhibitors, and vendors of food, were passed through quite Routinely, but as showmen we often
faced a much more lengthy, and sometimes capricious, line of
Questioning
. Was the show harmful to public Morals in any way? Were the Animals treated in a
Humane
manner? Was there any
Trick or
Deception
by which the poor honest fair-goer was to be taken for his hard-earned money? We sometimes had to run through our whole routine for the Magistrate’s benefit, and he
and his Men might demand to see, and Inspect, any part of our Apparatus for signs of trickery.

Nearly all of the time, we were eventually allowed to put on our Show, though we were often assessed a higher Rate, to reimburse the Town for the trouble of examining us, or to stand surety
against any later Discovery of deceit. Mr Bisset was a charming man, although I must say his power to charm
Magistrates
was as nothing before his gift with Animals. And this, as it happened,
was precisely the Issue with
Liverpool
, as the Lord Mayor there, who was in charge of licences, was widely known to be especially Hostile to showmen. Never the less, with a ready venue, and
the promise of great
Profit
, we hazarded the Journey, and the next day arrived in the little hamlet of
Wavertree
. From here, it would be but a short journey on foot into the City, and
we could at least make Enquiry, to ‘test the waters’, as humans say, and see whether our
Hopes
might be given something to Feed upon. In the mean-time, our Bodies, at least, were
well watered and fed, as we were lodged at Green Bank, near Mossley Hill, where an acquaintance of Mr Bisset kept a small dairy farm. Sam remained with me, thankfully, for I should not have liked
to be left with Strangers, and we waited anxiously to see what the Result of our Master’s enquiries might be.

It was late that night when he returned, and his Mood was darker than I had ever known it. The Lord Mayor’s secretary had kept him waiting the better part of the Afternoon, and when at
last he was Admitted, had given him only a very brief and
Dismissive
interview. Mr Bisset had exerted all his power, and with the assistance of some Friends of his in the City, had persuaded
him to reconsider, but only to this extent: he must examine the Pig in question, without any interference, and all alone—nothing else would do!—and if at last he were satisfied that
there was no Deception, he would consider granting permission for its Exhibition. Our Master was, of course, gravely Troubled at this, for he believed that without his Presence, and his Signals, I
would be unable to Demonstrate my intelligence, and all would be Ruined. Of course Sam and I knew better, but we could not, even at this juncture, bring ourselves to Disclose to Mr Bisset my true
Knowledge of Letters. We feared either that it would Break his Spirit, by making it seem that he was no longer
Needed
, or cause him to fly into a Rage at this betrayal of his
Secrets
.
Never the less, Sam at least persuaded him that he should come along; perhaps the Lord Mayor would not mind if a young boy, said merely to be the pig’s keeper, stayed by him.

This thought so delighted Mr Bisset that he at once agreed, and proposed that, in a single night, he would train Sam with at least a perfunctory set of signals, so that he could, if permitted,
transmit them to me in His Lordship’s presence. Sam, of course, already knew them all, but went along with the ruse, as being the easiest Solution to both his and Mr Bisset’s
Predicament
, and of course, so did I. We ran through the signals for ‘YES’ and ‘NO’ and even risked ‘MAYBE’, which, at five letters, was as far as our
Master ventured to trust us. By means of these three replies, he hoped, we might be able to Convince His Lordship that, under the strictest measures, there was neither Fraud nor Deceit in this our
Show, but that it was in fact an innocent, and indeed an
Instructive
, demonstration of the Native Wit of the
Porcine
race. It was quite late by the time we had completed our
exercises, and as we were due in Town at ten the next Morning, we all retired at once, Mr Bisset to his Friend’s cottage, and Sam and myself—as had become our habit—to a common
bed of
Straw
in the back of the Wagon. And there we slept, deeply and Soundly, as we had never slept before, and woke
Refreshed,
as though we had drunk the waters of Elysium, and
wandered the hills of
Paradise.

7

O
ur journey into Liverpool was not a Long one, for although we travelled entirely by
Foot
, it did not consume more than half an Hour. That
noted City was not quite so Built up in those days as it has since become, save along the
Quays
, where a great deal of Business was done; the greater number of the Buildings were of a Low
sort, and the lanes not much different from those of the smaller Towns, save that they were more Numerous and
Crowded
. We shortly arrived at the Town
Hall
, an impressive stone edifice
with tall vaulted Windows, and a Roman sort of Portico. We were informed that it had once been topped by a square Tower, which had recently been
Dismantled
, in order that a round dome could
take its Place, but at the time of our Visit, this work was
Incomplete
, and the roof quite Flat. Our Appearance on the Steps caused quite a commotion, for although a Pig in the streets of
Liverpool was quite beneath anyone’s
Notice
, a Pig on the Steps of the Town
Hall
was cause of Clamour and Outcry. Never was I more
Offended
, or taken Aback at the human
Prejudice of feeling, than I was when two tall men dressed in the Livery of the
City
, came upon me with great Brooms, as though to
Sweep
me off their stairs!

Fortunately, at just this Moment, the Lord Mayor’s secretary came forward, and motioned us back down the stairs, explaining that our
Examination
was to take place in a
builder’s Yard on the opposite Corner of the Square. Here, with the blank brick faces of the neighbouring Buildings for our Enclosure, we were met by the Lord Mayor, a red-cheeked, huffing
man by the name of James
Blackburn.
He did not exhibit any Sympathy of any kind—which hardly surprised me—but more than that, he seemed to possess a sort of Anti-Feeling that was
so pronounced as to be almost a
Feeling.
My master was dismissed at once, though to his great Relief, Sam was permitted to remain. Mr Blackburn retained only his Secretary, who took his
station at a little Table in the corner of the Yard, quill in Hand, to transcribe the
Proceedings.

‘Ah, so this is the Celebrated “sapient” Pig, eh? Is that correct?’

No one else seeming ready to answer, Sam ventured a ‘Yes, sir.’

‘And of what does his Sapience consist, eh? Can you tell me how many Ounces in a Gill? Name the most prosperous port in the
Antilles
? Tell what disguise Achilles wore when he was
hiding amongst the women in the Palace of
Lycomedes
? Hey! Speak your Wisdom, you learned
Swine
, or for ever hold your
Peace
!’

To this I could not, at first, conceive of any Answer, so dire and Strong were my feelings. But then Sam, who knew a good deal more about these strange
Queries
than I, began his
Signals—as subtly, if not more so, than our
Master
used to. First, he signalled the number
Five
, which I quickly pickt out from the
Numbers
that were among our Cards. So
much for the ounces in a
Gill
! I thought. And then, at his direction, and by Eyes only, he had me pick out P-U-E-R-T-O and R-I-C-O. Last, he had me spell out this phrase:
‘D-R-E-S-S-E-D A-S A G-I-R-L.’

Throughout my Performance, the Lord Mayor looked upon me most Intently, his eyes
Widening
answer by answer. By the last phrase, his jaw quite literally Dropt, such that one could almost
Hear it go
Slack
—here was a Man astonished, as they used to say, Turned to a very
Stone
! It was a long, full minute before he could muster up his Reply, even as his Secretary
sat Poised with his Pen to take it
Down
, and it was this: ‘Hah! I dare say we have here a Pig better schooled than Half the Aldermen of the
City
! Ho! By God, Wilkinson, here
there be
Wonders
! Give this Pig a
Licence
, and tell his Man that he is certainly the Lesser of the Two!’ Thus saying, half Laughing and half Reproaching himself for his Doubts,
Mr James Blackburn the Younger stept Out from the Yard, leaving his Secretary to scribble us up a Licence, for which I was most heartily
Proud
—for This I had done by Myself, with my
Benefactor’s help only. God save the city of Liverpool! To this day, it remains the one place in the World where I can say I proved my Self by my
Self
—and for that I shall ever
be
Grateful.

Our Licence at last secured, we returned to our lodgings at Green Bank, and shortly removed to the Juggler Street
Market
, which was at that time a common place for shows
of all Kinds. It consisted merely of a Widened portion of the main Street, part of which was taken up by a group of
Stalls
, with the rest left open for a varied array of Entertainments. The
cost for erecting our Show here was steep, being £5 6
s
., but Mr Bisset had great Plans, and considered the fee a mere Pittance. Here we would perform but a Reduced version of our
regular programme, and give out handbills and discounted Tickets for our upcoming Engagement at his friend’s place, which was called Ranelagh
Gardens.
I must Confess that, having some
time later attended the Establishment of that Name in
Chelsea
, it Bore no
Resemblance
to Gardens whatsoever. For, despite their grand Name, these ‘Gardens’ would in fact
be better described as a Yard adjoining a Tavern. In its midst there stood a modest Amphitheatre, with wooden benches and a Stage that could accommodate a few Players (though certainly not a full
Orchestra). In a manner that was, at best, a dim
Echo
of its London namesake, each evening commenced with a Concert, followed by a few tawdry Entertainments, and concluded with Fireworks.
Our appearance there, to my Mind, would Raise both the Custom and
Reputation
of the place by a considerable Measure, besides bringing a very handsome
Profit
to Ourselves.