Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle's Circus

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.

"He set out 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."

"The footman came out and pushed big cards into them"

"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.