MY DÉBUT
We started early the next morning. The sky was blue and a light wind had
come up in the night and dried all the mud. The birds were singing
blithely in the trees and the dogs scampered around us. Now and again
Capi stood up on his hind paws and barked into my face, two or three
times. I knew what he meant. He was my friend. He was intelligent, and
he understood every thing, and he knew how to make you understand. In
his tail only was more wit and eloquence than in the tongue or in the
eyes of many people.
Although I had never left my village and was most curious to see a town,
what I most wanted to see in that town was a boot shop. Where was the
welcome shop where I should find the shoes with nails that Vitalis had
promised me? I glanced about in every direction as we passed down the
old streets of Ussel. Suddenly my master turned into a shop behind the
market. Hanging outside the front were some old guns, a coat trimmed
with gold braid, several lamps, and some rusty keys. We went down three
steps and found ourselves in a large room where the sun could never have
entered since the roof had been put on the house. How could such
beautiful things as nailed shoes be sold in such a terrible place? Yet
Vitalis knew, and soon I had the pleasure of being shod in nailed shoes
which were ten times as heavy as my clogs. My master's generosity did
not stop there. He bought me a blue velvet coat, a pair of trousers, and
a felt hat.
Velvet for me who had never worn anything but cotton! This was surely
the best man in the world, and the most generous. It is true that the
velvet was creased, and that the woolen trousers were well worn, and it
was difficult to guess what had been the original color of the felt hat,
it had been so soaked with rain; but dazzled by so much finery I was
unconscious of the imperfections which were hidden under their aspect.
When we got back to the inn, to my sorrow and astonishment, Vitalis took
a pair of scissors and cut the two legs of my trousers to the height of
the knees, before he would let me get into them. I looked at him with
round eyes.
"That's because I don't want you to look like everybody else," he
explained. "When in France I'll dress you like an Italian; when in
Italy, like a French boy."
I was still more amazed.
"We are _artistes_, are we not? Well, we must not dress like the
ordinary folk. If we went about dressed like the country people, do you
think anybody would look at us? Should we get a crowd around us when we
stop? No! Appearances count for a great deal in life."
I was a French boy in the morning, and by night I had become an Italian.
My trousers reached my knees. Vitalis interlaced red cords all down my
stockings and twisted some red ribbon all over my felt hat, and then
decorated it with a bunch of woolen flowers.
I don't know what others thought of me, but to be frank I must admit
that I thought I looked superb; and Capi was of the same opinion, for he
stared at me for a long time, then held out his paw with a satisfied
air. I was glad to have Capi's approval, which was all the more
agreeable, because, during the time I had been dressing, Pretty-Heart
had seated himself opposite to me, and with exaggerated airs had
imitated every movement I had made, and when I was finished put his
hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed mockingly.
It is a scientific question as to whether monkeys laugh or not. I lived
on familiar terms with Pretty-Heart for a long time, and I know that he
certainly did laugh and often in a way that was most humiliating to me.
Of course, he did not laugh like a man, but when something amused him,
he would draw back the corners of his mouth, screw up his eyes, and work
his jaws rapidly, while his black eyes seemed to dart flames.
"Now you're ready," said Vitalis, as I placed my hat on my head, "and
we'll get to work, because to-morrow is market day and we must give a
performance. You must play in a comedy with the two dogs and
Pretty-Heart."
"But I don't know how to play a comedy," I cried, scared.
"That is why I am going to teach you. You can't know unless you learn.
These animals have studied hard to learn their part. It has been hard
work for them; but now see how clever they are. The piece we are going
to play is called, 'Mr. Pretty-Heart's Servant, or The Fool is not
Always the One You Would Think.' Now this is it: Mr. Pretty-Heart's
servant, whose name is Capi, is about to leave him because he is getting
old. And Capi has promised his master that before he leaves he will get
him another servant. Now this successor is not to be a dog, it is to be
a boy, a country boy named Remi."
"Oh...."
"You have just come from the country to take a position with Mr.
Pretty-Heart."
"Monkeys don't have servants."
"In plays they have. Well, you've come straight from your village and
your new master thinks that you're a fool."
"Oh, I don't like that!"
"What does that matter if it makes the people laugh? Well, you have come
to this gentleman to be his servant and you are told to set the table.
Here is one like we shall use in the play; go and set it."
On this table there were plates, a glass, a knife, a fork, and a white
tablecloth. How could I arrange all those things? As I pondered over
this question, leaning forward with hands stretched out and mouth open,
not knowing where to begin, my master clapped his hands and laughed
heartily.
"Bravo!" he cried, "bravo! that's perfect. The boy I had before put on a
sly expression as much as to say, 'See what a fool I can make of
myself'; you are natural; that is splendid."
"But I don't know what I have to do."
"That's why you are so good! After you do know, you will have to pretend
just what you are feeling now. If you can get that same expression and
stand just like you are standing now, you'll be a great success. To play
this part to perfection you have only to act and look as you do at this
moment."
"Mr. Pretty-Heart's Servant" was not a great play. The performance
lasted not more than twenty minutes. Vitalis made us do it over and over
again, the dogs and I.
I was surprised to see our master so patient. I had seen the animals in
my village treated with oaths and blows when they could not learn.
Although the lesson lasted a long time, not once did he get angry, not
once did he swear.
"Now do that over again," he said severely, when a mistake had been
made. "That is bad, Capi. I'll scold you, Pretty-Heart, if you don't pay
attention."
And that was all, but yet it was enough.
"Take the dogs for an example," he said, while teaching me; "compare
them with Pretty-Heart. Pretty-Heart has, perhaps, vivacity and
intelligence, but he has no patience. He learns easily what he is
taught, but he forgets it at once; besides he never does what he is told
willingly. He likes to do just the contrary. That is his nature, and
that is why I do not get angry with him; monkeys have not the same
conscience that a dog has; they don't understand the meaning of the word
'duty,' and that is why they are inferior to the dog. Do you understand
that?"
"I think so."
"You are intelligent and attentive. Be obedient, do your best in what
you have to do. Remember that all through life."
Talking to him so, I summoned up courage to ask him about what had so
astonished me during the rehearsal: how could he be so wonderfully
patient with the dogs, the monkey, and myself?
He smiled.
"One can see that you have lived only with peasants who are rough with
animals, and think that they can only be made to obey by having a stick
held over their heads. A great mistake. One gains very little by being
cruel, but one can obtain a lot, if not all, by gentleness. It is
because I am never unkind to my animals that they are what they are. If
I had beaten them they would be frightened creatures; fear paralyzes
the intelligence. Besides, if I gave way to temper I should not be what
I am; I could not have acquired this patience which has won their
confidence. That shows that who instructs others, instructs himself. As
I have given lessons to my animals, so I have received lessons from
them. I have developed their intelligence; they have formed my
character."
I laughed. This seemed strange to me.
"You find that odd," he continued; "odd that a dog could give a lesson
to a man, yet it is true. The master is obliged to watch over himself
when he undertakes to teach a dog. The dog takes after the master. Show
me your dog and I'll tell you what you are. The criminal has a dog who
is a rogue. The burglar's dog is a thief; the country yokel has a
stupid, unintelligent dog. A kind, thoughtful man has a good dog."
I was very nervous at the thought of appearing before the public the
next day. The dogs and the monkey had the advantage over me, they had
played before, hundreds of times. What would Vitalis say if I did not
play my part well? What would the audience say? I was so worried that,
when at last I dropped off to sleep, I could see in my dreams a crowd of
people holding their sides with laughter because I was such a fool.
I was even more nervous the next day, when we marched off in a
procession to the market place, where we were to give our performance.
Vitalis led the way. Holding his head high and with chest thrown out, he
kept time with his arms and feet while gayly playing his fife. Behind
him came Capi, carrying Pretty-Heart on his back, wearing the uniform of
an English general, a red coat and trousers trimmed with gold braid and
helmet topped with a plume. Zerbino and Dulcie came next, at a
respectful distance. I brought up the rear. Our procession took up some
length as we had to walk a certain space apart. The piercing notes of
the fife brought the people running from their houses. Scores of
children ran behind us, and by the time we had reached the square, there
was a great crowd. Our theater was quickly arranged. A rope was fastened
to four trees and in the middle of this square we took our places.
The first numbers on the program consisted of various tricks performed
by the dogs. I had not the slightest notion what they did. I was so
nervous and taken up in repeating my own part. All that I remember was
that Vitalis put aside his fife and took his violin and played
accompaniments to the dogs' maneuvers; sometimes it was dance music,
sometimes sentimental airs.
The tricks over, Capi took a metal cup between his teeth and began to go
the round of the "distinguished audience." When a spectator failed to
drop a coin in, he put his two fore paws upon the reluctant giver's
pocket, barked three times, then tapped the pocket with his paw. At
this every one laughed and shouted with delight.
"If that ain't a cunning spaniel! He knows who's got money and who
hasn't!"
"Say, out with it!"
"He'll give something!"
"Not he!"
"And his uncle left him a legacy! The stingy cuss!"
And, finally, a penny was dug out of a deep pocket and thrown into the
cup. During this time, Vitalis, without saying a word, but with his eyes
following Capi, gayly played his violin. Soon Capi returned to his
master, proudly carrying the full cup.
Now for the comedy.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Vitalis, gesticulating with his bow in one
hand and his violin in the other, "we are going to give a delightful
comedy, called 'Mr. Pretty-Heart's Servant, or the Fool is not Always
the One You Would Think.' A man of my standing does not lower himself by
praising his plays and actors in advance. All I have to say is look,
listen, and be ready to applaud."
What Vitalis called a delightful comedy was really a pantomime;
naturally it had to be for the very good reason that two of its
principals, Pretty-Heart and Capi, could not speak, and the third,
myself, was incapable of uttering two words. However, so that the
audience would clearly understand the play, Vitalis explained the
various situations, as the piece progressed. For instance, striking up a
warlike air, he announced the entrance of General Pretty-Heart, who had
won his high rank in various battles in India. Up to that day General
Pretty-Heart had only had Capi for a servant, but he now wished to have
a human being as his means allowed him this luxury. For a long time
animals had been the slaves of men, but it was time that such was
changed!
While waiting for the servant to arrive, the General walked up and down,
smoking his cigar. You should see the way he blew the smoke into the
onlookers' faces! Becoming impatient, he began to roll his eyes like a
man who is about to have a fit of temper. He bit his lips, and stamped
on the ground. At the third stamp I had to make my appearance on the
scene, led by Capi. If I had forgotten my part the dog would have
reminded me. At a given moment he held out his paw to me and introduced
me to the General. The latter, upon noticing me, held up his two hands
in despair. What! Was that the servant they had procured for him. Then
he came and looked pertly up into my face, and walked around me,
shrugging his shoulders. His expression was so comical that every one
burst out laughing. They quite understood that the monkey thought I was
a fool. The spectators thought that also. The piece was made to show how
dense was my stupidity, while every opportunity was afforded the monkey
to show his sagacity and intelligence. After having examined me
thoroughly, the General, out of pity, decided to keep me. He pointed to
a table that was already set for luncheon, and signed to me to take my
seat.
"The General thinks that after his servant has had something to eat he
won't be such an idiot," explained Vitalis.
I sat down at the little table; a table napkin was placed on my plate.
What was I to do with the napkin?
Capi made a sign for me to use it. After looking at it thoughtfully for
a moment, I blew my nose. Then the General held his sides with laughter,
and Capi fell over with his four paws up in the air, upset at my
stupidity.
Seeing that I had made a mistake, I stared again at the table napkin,
wondering what I was to do with it. Then I had an idea. I rolled it up
and made a necktie for myself. More laughter from the General. Another
fall from Capi, his paws in the air.
Then, finally overcome with exasperation, the General dragged me from
the chair, seated himself at my place, and ate up the meal that had been
prepared for me.
Ah! he knew how to use a table napkin! How gracefully he tucked it into
his uniform, and spread it out upon his knees. And with what an elegant
air he broke his bread and emptied his glass!
The climax was reached when, luncheon over, he asked for a toothpick,
which he quickly passed between his teeth. At this, applause broke out
on all sides, and the performance ended triumphantly.
What a fool of a servant and what a wonderful monkey!
On our way back to the inn Vitalis complimented me, and I was already
such a good comedian that I appreciated this praise from my master.