Читать книгу Pyg - Russell Potter - Страница 10

2

There is scant Consolation, when regarding one’s life with what Humans, who have a proclivity for accidental doublings of meaning, call ‘Hind-sight’, in saying that what happened was Necessary, and what was Necessary indeed Happened, And yet so it was with me: had it not been for the Fortuitous circumstance of Sam’s youthful sentiment, there can be little doubt that, instead of this my Book before you on your Table, you would have a rasher of Bacon and a Rack of Ribs—and that these would be my only mortal remains. And even granted that, it was a far from Easy thing that I would be able to make my Escape with only a Boy of thirteen years as my Guide, for there were many matters still Hanging in the Balance without any of which, each occurring precisely as it did, I would with equal sureness have met the Fate intended by my owner. Among your kind, such things are quite commonly credited to Divine Providence, but as I recall, the good Lord dealt only once with Pigs—which was when he sent into them a Horde of Demons, causing them to leap off a Cliff to their Deaths—so I will, I hope, be forgiven if I do not give Thanks to that particular Source.

Now, as I say, my Benefactor—that is, young Samuel Nicholson—had no idea in his head of my being bid upon, or sent to be Slaughtered by the highest bidder. On the contrary, much as any other lad his Age, he regarded the Fair as chiefly an occasion for Amusement, for seeing Mr Punch strike Mistress Judy with his long stick, for taking in a Penny Gaff or a Raree show, for wandering the Gypsy stalls amidst great heaps of China plates, and—lastly—for a fine repast of ginger beer and Cake. Of course he had always known there were animals: of the three days of the Fair, one was set aside for Horses, one for Cows, and one for Pigs. Yet his wanderings never brought him to the Pens in which the animals were kept, nor to the auction-yards where they were bought and sold, and least of all to the far edge of the pitch where stood the great wagons, ready to bear their unlucky Passengers on their final Journey to some distant Abattoir.

In my own case, I was favoured by my owner with a stout and capacious Cart, with rails, that I might make my procession into Town in a manner likely to draw the admiration of other breeders and buyers. Sam took it into his head to decorate this cart, hanging streamers and bits of coloured Foil about its sides, along with a banner upon which he had written, in his own boyish hand, ‘TOBY the Celebrated PIG’. Just what it was for which I was Celebrated he did not specify, but doubtless those who saw it made it out in this Sense: that I was celebrated for being Young and Large, and therefore sweet and succulent. Indeed, as the cart wound its way through the narrow, muddy streets of the market, Sam led the way with a Bell upon a stick, declaring, ‘Make way! Make way! Make way for Toby, the Wonderful Pig!’ He did not realise it, of course, but all this fuss was certain to have but one Effect—to raise the interest of the crowd, and to hasten my Sale to an Eager buyer. I myself did not quite discern the Danger since, as with all Pigs, our first trip to Market was generally our Last, but there were rumours enough among my Brothers and Sisters—and occasionally from the few older and wiser Pigs in the yard—that offered various Explanations, none of them Pleasant, for why none who Went had ever been known to Return.

From my Cart, I was unceremoniously turned out into a Pen, with the other contenders for the Prize. A Committee of three Judges, chosen from among those Farmers and Victuallers whose experience in the selling and buying of Pigs was longest, made their way round this pen, Examining each one of us—there were Ten in all—with a quite distressing sort of Professional eye. I was peered at, prodded, poked and pondered over; my Mouth was rudely forced open and my Teeth examined, and the same things were done to each of Us, to the great Interest of all present, which they signified with much muttering and grumbling. You would think that it was only by Degrees of dissatisfaction we were to be distinguished, to hear ourselves discussed in such Undertones, but apparently at this High level of appraisal, it was the Lack of Faults that was wanted, and this could not be measured without Counting each of them. I regard it as a great Blessing that I was not at that time acquainted with Human speech, or else I should have begun with a very Poor opinion of myself, which might have prevented the Progress I was later able to make.

At length, when the judges were apparently satisfied that they had noted down every blemish upon our Characters and Physiognomy, they retired into a little booth to write down their judgment. When they returned, the most senior among them had a length of Blue ribbon in his hand, which he turned and presented—to my great consternation—to Mr Francis Lloyd! Sam, of course, was on his feet in an instant, cheering and proclaiming me the Champion of the Fair, but all I could wonder was Why, after it was I who had undergone such Irksome and provoking examinations, the Ribbon was to be given to my ‘Owner’ and not to me! It is a source of some comfort, despite its Manner of being awarded, that this Prize has since been returned to my Possession, and indeed lies before me now as I undertake to write this, my Life.

After a brief interval, the other Pigs were discharged to their Owners, and I was returned to my Cart, upon which Sam had affixed the prize Ribbon, for a further procession through the Fair, during which, like a new-Crowned Monarch, I received the Applause of my Subjects. All the while this was happening, however, Mr Francis Lloyd was busy talking with potential Buyers, and by the time I had completed my peregrinations, he had apparently settled upon a Price. I was then turned out into a small crate, that could scarcely accommodate me, then hoisted on a Balance with which I was duly Weighed, and found to amount to twenty stone, four pounds, a very good Sum, I have since been told, for a Pig under a year old. At the time, I had no notion of this, but was greatly Alarmed that I might be separated from my Benefactor, and looked about most anxiously for him. Sam, alas, had been detained by a group of his Friends, who proposed that my Championship be celebrated with a quaff of Ale they had procured for the occasion from a nearby Tavern, and as he had no idea of the Danger I was in, he happily accepted their Invitation. My attempt to look about was met with a harsh reproach from my new Owner, who promptly struck me with a Bamboo cane, causing me to squirm about so greatly that I Broke out from the weighing-box and, for a glorious moment, had my Freedom.

It was to be short-lived, as this man—whose name I later learnt was Wilson—was prepared for such Contingencies, and soon had me caught in a sort of Noose at the end of a Pole he kept handy for such Occasions. With this foul Instrument about my Neck, I was led up a narrow ramp into the enormous Cart, which he employed to bring home his new Purchases. I found myself in a dark enclosure, filled with bits of the most filthy Straw, amidst which were not a few of my Brother and Sister animals, in various states of shock and Dismay.

Now, it is a well-known Fact that Humans, being Sons of Narcissus, quite readily—and kindly, they imagine—extend the Mirror of their Sensibility to other Creatures, assigning them the same sort of feeling and Expression as Themselves. Thus, were they to describe such a Scene, they would make it out that the fellow-feeling among such a group would lead to instant Friendship, and mutual Pledges of assistance. But, of course, this was never So; we Pigs are Alien to such things, having no Idea, nor occasion to Construct, that which Men call a Self. In its place, we have only this poor conceit: that we live, we eat, we shudder and we Die to suit men’s tables. Have we voice? None. Have we some sense of what is to Come? Indeed we do, but little it profits us. Most vitally, we have no more Acquaintance with such a Human thing as Language to either Possess or Express such feelings as the more feeling among Men attribute to us. So, in respect of these my Companions, as well as of Myself, I can say only that we possessed a common and a Mute terror that could not be Communicated if we would, save in squeals and grunts that would do no Justice, either to ourselves or to any People who chanced to hear it—and thus we remained Silent.