Works of Jules Verne/Round the World in Eighty Days/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT'S NOSE IS LENGTHENED ENORMOUSLY
The next day Passepartout, tired out and hungry, said to himself that he must eat at any cost, and the sooner the better. He had this resource, to sell his watch, but he would rather die of hunger. Now was the time, or never, for this good fellow to utilize the strong, if not melodious, voice with which nature had favored him.
He knew a few French and English airs, and he determined to try them. The Japanese ought certainly to be lovers of music, since everything with them was done to the sound of the cymbals, the tam-tams, and drums, and they could not but appreciate the talents of a European amateur.
But, perhaps, he was a little early to organize a concert, and the dilettanti, unexpectedly wakened, would, perhaps, not have paid the singer in money with the Mikado's likeness.
Passepartout decided, then, to wait a few hours; but in sauntering along the thought came to him that he would look too well dressed for a wandering artist, and the idea struck him to exchange his clothing for a suit more in harmony with his position. This exchange would besides produce a sum which he could immediately apply to satisfying his appetite.
This resolution taken, it only remained to execute it. It was only after a long search that Passepartout found a native clothes dealer, to whom he told his want. The European garments pleased the man, and soon Passepartout came out wrapped in an old Japanese robe, and on his head a sort of one-sided turban, discolored by the action of the weather. But in return, a few small pieces of money jingled in his pocket.
"Good!" he thought, "I will fancy that we are in the carnival!"
Passepartout's first care, thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea house of modest appearance, and there, with some remains of poultry and a few handfuls of rice, he breakfasted like a man for whom dinner would be still a problem to be solved.
"Now," he said to himself, when he had taken hearty refreshment, "the question is not to lose my head. I have no longer the resource of selling this garment for another still more Japanese. I must then consider the means of getting away as promptly as possible from this country of the sun, of which I shall preserve but a sorry recollection."
Passepartout then thought of visiting the steamers about to set sail for America. He counted on offering himself in the capacity of cook or servant, asking only his passage and his meals as his entire compensation. Once at San Francisco, he would see how he would get out of his scrape. The important thing was to traverse these four thousand, seven hundred miles of the Pacific stretching between Japan and the new world.
Passepartout, not being a man to let an idea languish, turned towards the port of Yokohama. But as he approached the docks, his plans, which had appeared so simple to him at the moment when he had the idea, seemed more and more difficult of execution. Why should they need a cook or servant aboard an American steamer, and what confidence would he inspire, muffled up in this manner? What recommendations would be of any service? What references could he give?
As he was thus reflecting, his eyes fell upon an immense placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets of Yokohama. This programme was thus worded in English: Acrobatic Japanese Troupe of the
Honorable William Batulcar.
Last Representations, Before Departure for the
United States of America
Long Noses! Long Noses!
Under the Direct Protection of the God Tingou!
Great Attraction!
"The United States of America," cried Passepartout, "that's just what I want!"
He followed the man with his placard, and thus soon re-entered the Japanese quarter. A quarter of an hour later, he stopped before a large house surrounded by clusters of streamers, and whose exterior walls represented, without perspective, but in violent colors, a whole company of jugglers.
It was the Honorable Batulcar's establishment, who was a sort of American Barnum, director of a troupe of mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, gymnasts, which, according to the placard, was giving its last performance before leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.
Passepartout entered under the porch in front of the house, and asked for Honorable Mr. Batulcar. He appeared in person.
"What do you wish?" he said to Passepartout, taking him at first for a native.
"Do you need a servant?" asked Passepartout.
"A servant," cried the Barnum, stroking his thick gray beard hanging heavily under his chin. "I have two, obedient and faithful, who have never left me, and who serve me for nothing, on condition that I feed them. And here they are," he added, showing his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a bass viol.
"So I can be of no good to you?"
"None."
"The devil! It would have suited me so well to leave with you."
"Ah, I see!" said the Honorable Batulcar. "You are as much a Japanese as I am a monkey! Why are you dressed in this way?"
"One dresses as one can.
"Very true. You are a Frenchman?"
"Yes, a Parisian from Paris."
"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
"Indeed," replied Passepartout, vexed at seeing his nationality call forth this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is true, but not better than the Americans."
"Just so. Well, if I do not take you as a servant I can take you as a clown. You understand, my good fellow? In France, they exhibit foreign clowns, and abroad, French clowns."
"Ah!"
"You are strong, are you not?"
"Particularly when I have been at the table."
"And you know how to sing?"
"Yes," replied Passepartout, who had formerly taken part in street concerts.
"But do you know how to sing on your head, with a top spinning on the sole of your left foot, and a saber balanced on the sole of your right?"
"Parbleu!" replied Passepartout, who recalled the first exercises of his youth.
"Then, you see, all is right!" replied the Honorable Batulcar.
The engagement was concluded there and then.
At last Passepartout had found a position. He was engaged to do everything in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not very flattering, but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.
The performance, so noisily announced by the Honorable Batulcar, was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the formidable instruments of a Japanese orchestra, drums and tam-tams, sounded at the door. We understand very well that Passepartout could not have studied a part, but he was to give the support of his solid shoulders in the grand feat of the "human pyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This great attraction of the performance was to close the series.
Before three o'clock, the spectators had crowded the large building. Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women, and children, rushed upon the narrow benches, and into the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians had entered, and the full orchestra, with gongs, tamtams, bones, flutes, tambourines, and large drums went to work furiously.
The performance was what all these acrobatic exhibitions are. But it must be confessed that the Japanese are the best equilibrists in the world. One, with his fan and small bits of paper, executed the graceful trick of the butterflies and flowers. Another, with the odorous smoke of his pipe, traced rapidly in the air a series of bluish words, which formed a compliment addressed to the audience. The latter juggled with lit candles, which he blew out in succession as they passed before his lips, and which he lit again, one after the other, without interrupting, for a single moment, his wonderful jugglery. The former produced, by means of spinning tops, the most improbable combinations. Under his hand these humming machines seemed to be gifted with a life of their own in their interminable whirling; they ran over pipe stems, over the edges of sabers, over wires as thin as hair, stretched from one side of the stage to the other; they went round large glass vases, they went up and down bamboo ladders, and scattered into all the corners, and produced harmonic effects of a strange character by combining their various tones. The jugglers tossed them up, and they turned in the air; they threw them like shuttle-cocks with wooden battledores, and they kept on turning; they thrust them into their pockets, and when they borught them out they were still spinning—until the moment when a relaxed spring made them bud out into a Chinese tree!
It is useless to describe here the wonderful feats of the acrobats and gymnasts of the troupe. The turning on ladders, poles, balls, barrels, etc., was executed with remarkable precision. But the principal attraction of the performance was the exhibition of the Long Noses, astonishing equilibrists, with whom Europe is not yet acquainted.
These Long Noses form a special company placed under the direct patronage of the god Tingou. Dressed like heroes of the middle ages, they bore a splendid pair of wings on their shoulders. But what distinguished them more particularly was the long nose with which their faces were ornamented, and, above all, the use they made of them. These noses were nothing less than bamboos, five, six, ten feet long; some straight, others curved; the latter smooth, the former with warts on them. It was on these appendages, fastened firmly, that all their balancing feats were performed. A dozen of these sectaries of the god Tingou lay upon their backs, and their comrades came, dressed like lightning rods, to make sport on their noses, jumping, leaping from one to the other, executing the most incredible somersaults.
To close, they had specially announced to the public the "human pyramid," in which fifty Long Noses were to represent the car of Juggernaut. But instead of forming this pyramid by taking their shoulders for a point of support, the artists of the Honorable Batulcar made it with their noses. Now, the one of them who usually formed the base of the car had left the troupe, and as all that was necessary was to be strong and agile, Passepartout was chosen to take his place.
The good fellow felt quite melancholy, when—sad recollection of his youth—he had put on this costume of the middle ages, adorned with parti-colored wings, and when a nose six feet long had been put on his face. But this nose was to earn his bread for him, and he took his part.
Passepartout went upon the stage and took his place with those of his colleagues who were to form the base of the Car of Juggernaut. All stretched themselves on the floor, their noses turned towards the ceiling. A second section of equilibrists placed themselves upon these long appendages, a third formed a story above, then a fourth, and on these noses which only touched at the point, a human monument soon rose to the height of the cornices of the theater.
Now, the applause was redoubled, and the instruments in the orchestra crashed like so much thunder, when the pyramid shook, the equilibrium was broken, one of the noses of the base was missing, and the monument fell like a house of cards.
It was Passepartout's fault, who, leaving his post, clearing the footlights without the aid of his wings, and climbing up to the right-hand gallery, fell at the feet of a spectator, crying: "Ah! my master! my master!"
"You here?"
"Myself!"
"Well then, in that case, to the steamer, young man!"
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, who accompanied him, and Passepartout rushed through the lobbies to the outside of the building. There they found the Honorable Batulcar, furious, claiming damages for the "breakage." Phileas Fogg appeased his anger by throwing him a handful of bank notes. Mr. Fogg and Aouda set foot on the American steamer, followed by Passepartout, with his wings on his back, and on his face the nose six feet long which he had not yet been able to tear off!