Part V Chapter 2 Doctor Dolittle's Circus by Hugh Lofting
ANIMAL PLAYS
When the Dolittle household awoke next morning they found that the wagon was moving. This was nothing new for them. It only meant that the circus had got under way very early while they were still asleep--as it often did in moving from town to town. It was a part of the life, this, that Gub-Gub greatly enjoyed--waking in the morning and looking out of the window to see what kind of new scene lay around their moving home.
Gub-Gub used to boast that this showed he was a born traveler, that he loved change, like the Doctor. As a matter of fact, he was really by nature much more like Dab-Dab; for no one loved regular habits, especially regular meals, more than he. It was just that the gipsy life provided a continuous and safe sort of adventure for him. He liked excitement, but comfortable excitement, without hardship or danger.
Matthew Mugg came in while the family was still at breakfast.
"Doctor," said he, "that Mr. Bellamy is still with the outfit. Said he might as well come along with us, as we was going the same way as him. But, if you ask me, I reckon the real reason is because he's afraid he may lose sight of you. He's just crazy to get you do a turn at his theatre--don't care nothin' about the rest of Blossom's show. But he's willin' to pay any amount to get you to give a performance of your own with animals."
"Well," said the Doctor, "it isn't as easy as it sounds, Matthew. My own pets here are anxious to do a play. I wrote a sort of comedy last night after they had gone to bed. But, of course, it will have to be rehearsed over and over before it is in shape for him to see it. The animals must know their parts properly. You might go forward and tell him, will you, that I will try to rehearse it while we are traveling, and that I will let him see it to-morrow, if we are far enough on with it."
"All right," said Matthew, and he stepped out of the back of the moving wagon and ran forward to overtake the ringmaster's caravan with his message.
Doctor Dolittle had, as you know, written plays before for animals-- dozens of them. I have told you of his very famous little book called One-Act Plays for Penguins. He had also written longer dramas for monkeys and others. But all these had been intended for audience of animals and were written in animal languages. The penguin plays were (and are still, so far as I know) performed during the long winter nights in the open-air theatres of the Antarctic, where the vast audience of quaint birds sit around on the rocks in solemn groups, clapping their flipper-like wings when anything said by the actors strikes them as particularly sensible.
The plays for monkeys were of a much lighter kind. They preferred comedies and farces to the more serious and thoughtful drama that the penguins liked. The monkey plays were enacted in clear places in the jungle and the audience sat in the trees all about. The seats in the boughs right over the stage were the most expensive in the monkey theatres. And a family box, which consisted of a whole branch of a tree, cost as much as a hundred nuts. There was a special rule that families occupying these places should not throw their nutshells or banana peels down onto the performers' heads.
So, you see, John Dolittle was quite experienced as a playwright for animals. But the thing needed by Mr. Bellamy, which was to be shown to an audience of people, had to be different, because people don't understand animal languages. And after much thought the Doctor decided to do away with language altogether. The whole play was to be action. And he called it The Puddleby Pantomime.
The rehearsals for the pantomime were greatly enjoyed by everyone except Dab-Dab. The poor housekeeper, who had herself a part to play in it, was continually stopping the performance to row someone about upsetting the furniture or breaking the teacups or pulling down the curtains.
The inside of the wagon was very close quarters, as you can easily imagine, for acting a play. Added to this, the caravan was moving all the time; and whenever the horse who was pulling it went around a curve or a sharp bend in the road everybody on the stages sat down on the floor; and a squawk from Dab-Dab would show that some new piece of damage had been done to her home. But the rest of the animals got almost as much fun out of the accidents in rehearsal as they did out of the play itself.
The pantomime was just like the old-fashioned Harlequinade. Toby played the part of Harlequin, Dab-Dab was Columbine, Gub-Gub was Pantaloon, Swizzle was the policeman and Jip was Pierrot*. The dance by Harlequin, Columbine and Pierrot caused a lot of merriment, because whenever the dancers were on the tips of their toes, that was certain to be the time when the wagon would give an extra bad lurch and throw the dancers under the bed.
Swizzle, as the policeman, was always arresting poor Pierrot (Jip) and anybody else he met. For a club he used a cucumber--until he broke it in half over Pantaloon (Gub-Gub), whom he was supposed to chase all around the wagon for stealing the string of sausages. Then the prisoner took the policeman's club away from him and ate it. And the Doctor decided to put that idea into the real show and to use a cucumber in Manchester.
Coming on and off the "stage" was very difficult, because the performers had to go out of the door and stand on the narrow steps while the wagon was still going. Gub-Gub, in his part of the comic Pantaloon, had a hard time. He had to make many entrances and many exits--bounding in and out with the red-hot poker or the string of sausages. And in spite of the Doctor's warning him repeatedly to go out carefully, he always forgot that the wagon was moving, and, making his flying exit, he almost invariably fell out of wagon, upside down, into the road. Then the rehearsal would have to be stopped while Mr. Pantaloon picked himself up and ran after his moving theatre to get on the stage again.
The piece was gone through four or five times during that morning while the circus was traveling on to the next town. And when the train of wagons halted for the night the Doctor sent word to Mr. Bellamy that, although the act was still very imperfect and no customers ready yet, he could come and see if it would do.
Then the pantomime was performed again, this time on the solid ground by the side of the road, before an audience of Mr. Bellamy, Blossom, Matthew Mugg and the strong man. On this stage, that stood still instead of lurching from side to side, the piece went much better; and, although Pantaloon got a bit mixed up and popped on and off the stage many times too often, the audience clapped loud and long when it was over and declared it one of the most amusing shows they had ever seen.
"Perfectly splendid!" cried Mr. Bellamy. "It's just the thing we want. With a little more rehearsing and proper clothes, that should make a great hit. Nobody can say this act it not enjoyed by the animals that take part in it. Now, I'm going on to Manchester this evening. And after Mr. Blossom has played his week in Little Plimpton he'll bring you on to my theatre to open the beginning of the following week. Monday the seventeenth. In the meantime, I'll do some advertising. And I think we can promise you an audience worth playing to."
The circus's week at Little Plimpton was chiefly occupied by the Dolittle household in preparing and rehearsing the Puddleby Pantomime for its showing in Manchester. As for the pushmi-pullyu, the useful Matthew Mugg took entire charge of his stand, leaving the Doctor free to take care of the play.
Day after day the act was gone through until everyone knew his part perfectly and there seemed no possible chance of a mistake. The Doctor wanted the whole performance to be done by the animals, without himself or any person appearing on the stage from beginning to end. During the rehearsals accidents and odd things happened which gave the Doctor ideas, many of which he put into the play itself, as he had done with the cucumber. Then, too, several of the actors thought up comic notions of their own while the show was being tried out. And if they were good enough John Dolittle put them into the pantomime. For these reasons the act toward the end of rehearsals was much longer and quite a little different from what it had been when shown to Mr. Bellamy. It was much better, too. Gub-Gub thought it so comical that often in the middle of it he would get a giggling fit over his own funniness and be so doubled up with mirth that he couldn't go on with his part.
Theodosia Mugg was very busy during these days, making the costumes. Fitting suits of clothes to animals is not easy. Gub-Gub gave the most trouble. At the first dress rehearsal he came on with his suit upside down, and his wig back-to-front. He had his hind legs through the sleeves of the coat, wearing them as pants. His makeup, too, gave a lot of extra work to the stage manager. Mr. Pantaloon liked the taste of grease paint and he would keep licking his chops during the performance. So of course the rouge on his cheeks very soon got smeared all around his mouth and made him look as though he had been eating bread and jam.
But Pantaloon's greatest trial was his trousers. When at last they did make him understand how his suit was to be worn, he at first fastened his trousers to a belt. But his stomach was so round and smooth his belt would keep slipping off it. And at the first few dress rehearsals whenever he ran on to the stage (always chased by the policeman, of course), as often as not he would lose his pants on the way and arrive on the stage wearing only a coat and a wig. Then Theodosia made a special pair of suspenders for him to keep his pants up with, and the Doctor always inspected his dressing himself.
A similar accident happened frequently at the beginning to Dab-Dab, who acted part of Columbine. Theodosia had made her a very cunning little ballet skirt of stiff pink net. But the first time she wore it, the dainty web-footed toe-dancer, doing an especially high kick in her dance with Harlequin, kicked her skirt right over her partner's head. The excitement was added to considerably when Pantaloon, who had just rubbed in, picked up the skirt, and put it on himself in place of the pants he had lost, as usual, in his hurried entrance.
So, as you can easily imagine, Stage Manager Dolittle and Theodosia, the mistress of the wardrobe, had their hands pretty full. Acting as people was hard enough for the animals by itself; but acting in clothes that they were not accustomed to wearing was a tremendous job, when only a week could be taken for rehearsing. Many times the Doctor was in despair over the costuming part of it. However, Theodosia worked out a lot of very cunning dodges, by means of secret buttons, hooks, elastics and tapes, to hold the clothes and hats and wigs in place. Then by making the actors wear their costumes all day long the Doctor finally got his performers so they could move, and run and dance in clothes as easily as they could without them.