In Which Passepartout's Nose Becomes Outrageously Long
The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to
himself that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the
sooner he did so the better. He might, indeed, sell his watch;
but he would have starved first. Now or never he must use the
strong, if not melodious voice which nature had bestowed upon
him. He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to
try them upon the Japanese, who must be lovers of music, since
they were forever pounding on their cymbals, tam-tams and
tambourines. They could not but appreciate European talent.
It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert,
and the audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might
not possibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's
features. Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours.
As he was sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem
rather too well dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck
him to change his garments for clothes more in harmony with his
project. In this manner he might also get a little money to
satisfy the immediate cravings of hunger. The resolution taken,
it remained to carry it out.
It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a
native dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange.
The man liked the European costume, and before long Passepartout
left his shop dressed in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of
one-sided turban, faded from long use. A few small pieces of
silver, moreover, jingled in his pocket.
"Good!" thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"
His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a
teahouse of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little
rice, to breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a
problem to be solved.
"Now," he thought, after he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose
my head. I can't sell this costume again for one still more
Japanese. I must consider how to leave this country of the Sun,
of which I shall not retain the most delightful of memories, as
quickly as possible."
It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to
leave for America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant,
in payment of his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he
would find some means of going on. The difficulty was, how to
travel the four thousand seven hundred miles of the Pacific which
lay between Japan and the New World.
Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and
directed his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them,
his project, which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow
more and more formidable to his mind. What need would they have
of a cook or servant on an American steamer, and what confidence
would they put in him, dressed as he was? What references could
he give?
As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets.
This placard, which was in English, read as follows:
ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE,
HONORABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,
LAST REPRESENTATIONS,
PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE
UNITED STATES,
OF THE
LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES!
UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE
OF THE GOD TINGOU!
GREAT ATTRACTION!
"The United States!" said Passepartout. "That's just what I
want!"
He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the
Japanese quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a
large cabin, adorned with several clusters of streamers, the
exterior walls of which were designed to represent, in violent
colors and without perspective, a company of jugglers.
This was the Honorable William Batulcar's establishment. That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of
mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists and
gymnasts, who, according to the placard, was giving his last
performances before leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States
of the Union.
Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.
"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first
took for a native.
"Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.
"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard
which hung from his chin. "I already have two who are obedient
and faithful, have never left me, and serve me for their
nourishment--and here they are," added he, holding out his two
robust arms, furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a
bass viol.
"So I can be of no use to you?"
"None."
"The devil! I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"
"Ah!" said the Honorable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a
Japanese than I am a monkey! Why are you dressed up in that way?"
"A man dresses as he can."
"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"
"Yes. A Parisian of Paris."
"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality
should cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make
grimaces, it is true--but not any better than the Americans do."
"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown.
You see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in
foreign parts French clowns."
"Ah!"
"You are pretty strong, eh?"
"Especially after a good meal."
"And you can sing?"
"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly sung in street
concerts.
"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on
your left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"
"Humph! I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the
exercises of his younger days.
"Well, that's enough," said the Honorable William Batulcar.
The engagement was concluded there and then.
Passepartout had at last found something to do. He was engaged to
act in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not a very
dignified position, but within a week he would be on his way to
San Francisco.
The performance, so noisily announced by the Honorable Mr.
Batulcar, was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the
deafening instruments of a Japanese orchestra resounded at the
door. Passepartout, though he had not been able to study or
rehearse a part, was designated to lend the aid of his sturdy
shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human pyramid,"
executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This "great
attraction" was to close the performance.
Before three o'clock the large shed was crowded with spectators,
Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and
children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and
into the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians took up a
position inside, and were vigorously performing on their gongs,
tam-tams, flutes, bones, tambourines and immense drums.
The performance was much like all acrobatic displays. But it must
be confessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the
world.
One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful
trick of the butterflies and the flowers. Another traced in the
air, with the odorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words,
which composed a compliment to the audience. A third juggled with
some lighted candles, which he extinguished successively as they
passed his lips, and relit again without interrupting for an
instant his juggling. Another reproduced the most singular
combinations with a spinning-top. In his hands the revolving tops
seemed to be animated with a life of their own in their
interminable whirling. They ran over pipe-stems, the edges of
sabres, wires and even hairs stretched across the stage. They
turned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo
ladders, dispersed into all the corners, and produced strange
musical effects by the combination of their various pitches of
tone. The jugglers tossed them in the air, threw them like
shuttlecocks with wooden battledores, and yet they kept on
spinning; they put them into their pockets, and took them out
still whirling as before.
It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the
acrobats and gymnasts. The turning on ladders, poles, balls,
barrels, etc., was executed with wonderful precision.
But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long
Noses, a show to which Europe is as yet a stranger.
The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct
patronage of the god Tingou. Attired after the fashion of the
Middle Ages, they bore upon their shoulders a splendid pair of
wings. But what especially distinguished them was the long noses
which were fastened to their faces, and the uses which they made
of them. These noses were made of bamboo, and were five, six and
even ten feet long, some straight, others curved, some ribboned
and some having imitation warts upon them. It was upon these
appendages, fixed tightly on their real noses, that they
performed their gymnastic exercises. A dozen of these sectaries
of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while others, dressed to
represent lightning-rods, came and frolicked on their noses,
jumping from one to another, and performing the most skillful
leapings and somersaults.
As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which
fifty Long Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut. But,
instead of forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders,
the artists were to group themselves on top of the noses. It
happened that the performer who had hitherto formed the base of
the Car had left the troupe, and as, to fill this part, only
strength and adroitness were necessary, Passepartout had been
chosen to take his place.
The poor fellow really felt sad when--melancholy reminiscence of
his youth!--he donned his costume, adorned with vari-colored
wings, and fastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet
long. But he cheered up when he thought that this nose was
winning him something to eat.
He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who
were to compose the base of the Car of Juggernaut. They all
stretched themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the
ceiling. A second group of artists stood on these long
appendages, then a third above these, then a fourth, until a
human monument reaching to the very cornices of the theatre soon
arose on top of the noses. This elicited loud applause, in the
midst of which the orchestra was just striking up a deafening
air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was lost, one of the
lower noses vanished from the pyramid, and the human monument was
shattered like a castle built of cards!
It was Passepartout's fault. Abandoning his position, clearing
the footlights without the aid of his wings, and clambering up to
the right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the
spectators, crying, "Ah, my master! My master!"
"You here?"
"Myself."
"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"
Mr. Fogg, Aouda and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the
theatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honorable Mr.
Batulcar, furious with rage. He demanded damages for the
"breakage" of the pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him by
giving him a handful of banknotes.
At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
followed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings
and nose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.