Part V Chapter 3 Doctor Dolittle's Circus by Hugh Lofting
THE POSTER AND THE STATUE
The day the circus moved to Manchester was a great one for the Dolittle household. None of the animals except Jip had been in a real large city before. On the way there Gub-Gub was constantly at the window of the caravan, watching the road and shouting out word over his shoulder to the others when anything new or wonderful came in sight.
Mr. Bellomy's show place was situated on the edge of the city. It was a big amusement park, with all sorts of sideshows of its own and a large theatre building in the centre. Prizefights, wrestling matches, brass band contests and all manner of entertainments were held in a large open-air place behind the theatre. It was oval in shape and had seats banked up high all around it. This it was that had given it its name, the Amphitheatre, because it was like the great open-air theatres of the Romans.
To Mr. Bellamy's amusement park the citizens of Manchester came out in thousands when they were in need of recreation--especially Saturday afternoons and in the evenings. At night the whole place was lit up with strings of little lights, and very gay and pretty it looked.
The park was so big that Blossom's "Mammoth Circus" could fit into one corner of it and not be seen. The ringmaster was greatly impressed.
"Lor' bless me," he said to the Doctor, "this is the way to run the show business all right--on a grand scale. Bellamy must be rolling in money. Why, the theatre building alone could hold three times as many people as we can fit into our big tent!"
Blossom's Circus party, feeling dreadfully small and unimportant in such a huge concern, were guided to a place where they could halt and settle down. Shortly after the horses were stabled and the great Mr. Bellamy himself turned up. The first thing he inquired for was the Puddleby Pantomime troupe.
"As for the rest of your show," he said to Blossom, "I'll leave you this corner of the grounds, and you can set up and do what business you can on your own. We get the bigger crowds after five o'clock in the evening and all Saturday afternoon--when we usually run a prizefight over in the arena. But Doctor Dolittle's company I am going to take care of separately. Of course, I'll pay the money through you, as I told you, and you divide it in whatever way you two arrange. But from now on he and his animals are under my management, you understand, and are not to be interfered with by anybody else. That's what we agreed on, isn't it?"
Then while Blossom and his men got their own sideshows set up the Dolittle household and its wagon were taken off to another part of the grounds--close to the theatre--and given a space within a high fence, where they could settle down in comfort.
Here they found a few other tents and caravans, the homes of various special performers taking part in the daily, or rather nightly, show which was given in the theatre. Dancers they were, tight-rope walkers, singers and what not.
After the beds were made up and the Dolittle wagon put in order, the Doctor suggested a walk through the city. Jip and Gub-Gub at once asked could they come, and the Doctor consented. Dab-Dab thought she ought to remain behind and finish unpacking and to get food cooked for supper.
Then when the Doctor had been over to make sure that Matthew Mugg had got the pushmi-pullyu comfortably settled he set out, accompanied by Gub-Gub and Jip, to see the sights of Manchester.
To reach the city proper they had to walk about half a mile through districts of ordinary houses and gardens which surrounded the big town.
Of course, John Dolittle and Jip, having been in London more than once, knew what a regular city looked like. But Gub-Gub, when they entered the thronged streets, teeming with traffic, bordered by grand shops and buildings, was greatly impressed.
"What a lot of people!" he murmured, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "And just look at the cabs! I didn't know there were so many in the world--following one another down the street like a parade. And such splendid vegetable shops! Did you ever see such enormous tomatoes! Oh, I like this place. It's much bigger than Puddleby isn't it? And much gayer. Yes, I like this town."
They came to an open place, a big square, with especially fine stone buildings on all sides of it. Gub-Gub wanted to know all about each of them, and the Doctor had to explain what a bank was, and a corn exchange and a municipal hall, and many more.
"And what's that?" asked Gub-Gub, pointing to the middle of the square.
"That's a statue," said the Doctor.
It was a very grand monument of a man on horseback. And Gub-Gub asked who he was.
"That's General Slade," said the Doctor.
"But why do they put a statue up to him?"
"Because he was a famous man," answered the Doctor. "He fought in India--against the French."
They passed out of this square and a little further on entered another, a smaller one, with no statue in it. As they were crossing it Gub-Gub suddenly stopped dead.
"Great heavens, Doctor!" he cried. "Look!"
At the far side of the square, on a hoarding, was an enormous poster --a picture of a pig dressed as Pantaloon, holding a string of sausages.
"Why, it's me, Doctor!" said Gub-Gub, hurrying toward it.
And sure enough, written across the top in large letters was: "The Puddleby Pantomime. A Mystery. Come and see the Unique Harlequinade. Bellamy's Amphitheatre. Next Monday."
The manger had been as good as his word. He had had an artist make pictures of the characters in the Doctor's play and posted them all over the city.
They couldn't get Gub-Gub away from it. The idea of coming into this big town and finding his own pictures on the walls and himself a famous actor already, entirely fascinated him.
"Perhaps they'll put up a statue of me next," he said--"like the general. Look, there's room for one here. They haven't got any in this square."
As they went through the streets they found more pictures of their show--some of Dab-Dab, poised on her toes in a ballet skirt; some of Swizzle, with a policeman's helmet on his head. But whenever they passed one of Pantaloon they had the hardest work dragging Gub-Gub away. He would have sat in front of it all night, if they had let him, admiring himself as a famous actor.
"I really think you ought to speak to the Mayor about my statue, Doctor," said he, as he sauntered homeward with his nose carried high in the air. "Perhaps they'll want to move the general into a smaller square and put me in the larger one."
On the morning of Monday, the day when the Pantomime was to make its first appearance before the public, there was a dress rehearsal of it and the rest of the show to be given in the theatre. This was what is known as a variety show. There were a number of different acts, dancers, singers, jugglers, and so forth. They came on to the stage in turn and went through their performance, with the orchestra playing the proper music for each one.
At the sides of the stage there were little frames, and at the beginning of each act footmen in livery came out and pushed big cards into them. These cards had the name of the new act on them, and were displayed in this way so that the audience could read what was coming. The Doctor suggested that with the Puddleby Pantomime the card-changing should be done by animals, instead of footmen. Mr. Bellamy thought it was a splendid idea. And while the Doctor was wondering what animals he could get Too-Too suggested that he be given the job.
"But we need two," said the Doctor. "You see how the footmen do it --like soldiers. They march out with the cards in their hand-- just as though they were drilling, go to each side of the stage-- pull the old card out and stick the new one in."
"That's all right, Doctor," said Too-Too. "I can soon get another owl and we'll make a better pair than those footmen. You wait till I take a hunt around the country outside the city."
Too-Too flew off, and before half an hour had passed he was back again with another owl who was the dead image of himself, and the exact same size. Then stools were placed on the corners of the stage, so that the little birds could reach the frames and the owl footmen were drilled in their parts.
Even the musicians in the orchestra, accustomed to seeing wonderful things done on the stage, were astonished when Too-Too and his brother owl appeared from behind the curtains. They were really must smarter at the job than the footmen in velvet. Like two clockwork figures, they hopped onto the stools, changed the cards, bowed to the imaginary audience and retired.
"My!" said the bass fiddler to the trombone player. "Did you ever see the like? You'd think they'd been working in a variety hall all their lives!"
Then the Doctor, who was himself quite a musician, discussed with the conductor what kind of music should be played while the pantomime was going on.
"I want something lively," said John Dolittle, "but very, very soft --pianissimo the whole time."
"All right," said the conductor. "I'll play you the thing we do for the tight rope walkers--sort of tense."
Then he tapped his desk with his baton to make the orchestra get ready, and played a few opening bars. It was exciting, trembly* music, played very, very quietly. It made you think of fairies fluttering across lawns in the moonlight.
"That's splendid," said the Doctor, as the conductor stopped. "Now, when Columbine begins to dance I want the minuet from Don Juan--because that's the tune she has always practised to. And every time Pantaloon falls down have the percussion give the bass drum a good bang, please."
Then the Puddleby Pantomime was gone through on a real stage, with a real orchestra and real scenery--the last dress rehearsal. Gub-Gub found the glare of the footlights dazzling and confusing. But he and all the actors had by this time done the piece so often that they could have played it in their sleep. And the show went with a dash from beginning to end, without a single accident or slip.
When it was over Mr. Bellamy said:
"Just one thing more: when the audience is here your actors will be called out before the curtain. You'll have to show them how to take the call."
Then the performers were rehearsed in bowing. The five of them trooped on again, hand in hand, bowed to the empty theatre and trooped off.
In the course o their eventful lives the animals of Doctor Dolittle's household had had many exciting times. But I doubt if anything ever happened to them which they remembered longer or spoke of afterward more often than their first appearance before the public in the famous Puddleby Pantomime.
I say famous because it did, in fact, become very famous. Not only was it reported in the newspapers of Manchester as a sensational success, but it was written up in those magazines devoted to stagecraft and theatrical news, as something entirely new to the show business. Lots of acts with animals dressed as people had been done before, of course--some very good. But in all of them the performers never knew just why they did the things they did, nor the meaning of most of their act. Whereas the Doctor, being able to converse with his actors in their own language, had produced a play which was entirely perfect, down to the smallest detail. For instance, he had spent days in showing Toby how to wink one eye, and still longer in getting Pantaloon to throw back his head and laugh like a person. Gub-Gub used to practise it in front of a mirror by the hour. Pigs have their own way of laughing, of course, which most people don't know of; and that is just as well, because sometimes they find humans very amusing. But to have animals laughing and frowning and smiling at the right places in a play-- perfectly naturally and exactly the way people would do it-- was something that had never been seen on the stage before.
Good weather and Mr. Bellamy's advertising had brought a large crowd out to the amusement park Monday evening. Long before the show was due to start the theatre was beginning to fill.
Of the Dolittle troupe, waiting their turn behind the scene, no one was more anxious than the Doctor himself. None of his animals, with the exception of Swizzle, had ever performed before a real audience before. And it did not follow that because they had acted all right with only Mr. Bellamy and a few others looking on, they would be just as good when facing a packed theatre.
As he heard the first few notes of the orchestra tuning up their instruments the Doctor peeped through the curtain into the audience. He could see nothing but faces. There did not seem to be room to get another in anywhere, but still the people crowded up to the big entrances at the end of the long hall, trying to find standing room in the aisles--or even outside of the doorways, where, on tiptoe, they could still get a glimpse of the stage.
"Doctor," whispered Dab-Dab, who was also peeping, "this at last ought to make us rich. Blossom said that Mr. Bellamy had promised him one hundred pounds a day--and more, if the audiences were larger than a certain number. It would be impossible for it to be bigger than this. You couldn't get a fly into that theatre, it's so packed. What are they stamping and whistling for?"
"That's because, the show is late in beginning," said the Doctor, looking at his watch. "They're impatient. Oh, look out! Let's get off the stage. They're going to pull the curtain up. See, there's the singing couple in the wings, ready to do the first act. Come on hurry! Where's Gub-Gub got to? I'm so afraid that wig of his will slip out of place.--Oh, here he is. Thank goodness, it's all right--and his pants, too. Now, all of you stay here and keep together. Our show goes on as soon as this act is over. Stop licking your face, Gub-Gub, for heaven's sake! I won't have time to make you up again."