Paris Savages

Hamburg’s paved port area was a welcome change from creaking wooden planks, and the proximity of the crowd bothered Hilda less than she had feared it might. She was surprised that her friends attracted little interest, but then supposed black people were no novelty amongst the dock workers. Hilda studied Bonny and Dorondera, and tried to glean what they made of the bustling workers and the onlookers in their finery.

Two of the Wilhelm’s crew delivered the surviving wallabies to shore, their crate covered with a heavy canvas sheet, and it was this that passers-by were most interested in.

‘Come and see us at Hagenbeck’s Thierpark,’ Louis answered, patting the boy on the head fondly. Hilda wondered for the first time if her father had longed for a son. ‘I don’t want to frighten the wallabies by removing the cover here,’ he said.

‘Wallabies! Do they jump?’ the boy asked, excited. ‘How many are there?’

‘There are two,’ Louis laughed. ‘And yes, they jump. Come to the thierpark and see.’

Hilda looked about her for a few blades of grass to feed through the cracks in the crate, but there was no grass nearby. Her own stomach growled, and she craned her neck to better see the market stall some twenty yards away.

Louis nodded at Bonny and Jurano. ‘We men will wait here for Herr Hagenbeck,’ he told his daughter. ‘His telegram said he would meet us.’ Louis smiled at her. ‘Go and buy the fruit you said you wanted, hellish expensive though it will be. They will have brought it up from Italy or the south of France but if it brings the colour back to your face …’ He handed her some coins, corroded from their time on K’gari. ‘An orange for each of us.’ He looked at Bonny, Jurano and Dorondera in turn, trying to again hide his sadness as he regarded his wife’s reanimated dress. Dorondera and Hilda were both now wearing the fashionable bonnets Mr Sheridan had gifted them. ‘Be sure to write to Mr Sheridan to thank him for the hats once we are settled, Hilda,’ Louis said.

Hilda kissed her father on the cheek, hitched her skirts and, linking arms with Dorondera, steered her quickly down a laneway towards the fruit stall.

‘Five oranges, please,’ she said, speaking slowly and holding up five fingers to the African seller. Hilda studied the brightly coloured cloth the woman had artfully wrapped around her head. At the stallholder’s neck was a brooch with a peach-coloured image of the German monarch. The stallholder eyed Hilda strangely as she gave her the fruit, asking in rapid-fire German for payment. Hilda studied the coins in her hand before passing them across, making sure she was giving the correct amount. It was so long since she had seen German currency, and it was the first time she had charge of it.

Disbelieving, and wondering if the seller was trying to distract her from overpayment, Hilda looked towards the wharf and was astonished to indeed see a colourfully painted elephant at the end of the laneway. The beast swung its trunk from side to side, at ease amongst the following crowd.

A brown-skinned man wearing a loose white turban sat on the creature’s back. He was dressed in a brilliant white shirt and matching knee-length trousers. A second man, similarly dressed, walked just ahead of the elephant, holding up a placard. Hilda read aloud the flamboyant circus lettering, then translated it into English for Dorondera:

See the Sinhalese riding elephants
One week only!
Carl Hagenbeck’s Thierpark

There were four elephants in total, all cloaked with colourful decorative rugs and strung together by a rope. Hilda counted six riders and handlers, the last rider sporting a moustache that put the Wilhelm captain’s whiskers to shame. A horse-drawn carriage followed some distance behind, the words ‘Carl Hagenbeck’s Thierpark’ across the side.

Clutching the oranges to their chests, Dorondera and Hilda skirted the back of the slow procession and made their way towards the ship where Louis was waiting with Bonny and Jurano. Hilda’s father waved his hat to a tall man in a suit, seated atop the thierpark’s carriage. Hilda recognised Carl Hagenbeck immediately from the carte de visite the missionary had delivered. The showman was holding a short cane, wore a grey homburg, and was clean-shaven but for a goatee. He held up his hands in a gesture of long-awaited welcome, and Hilda watched her father’s posture straighten with pride and his chin lift. The showman blew a loud whistle and the elephant drivers advanced the procession towards the ship, the last elephant in the line defecating generously and causing the crowd to draw back and inspect their shoes.

As the carriage drew to a stop, Hagenbeck made a theatrical leap to the ground, his arms outstretched to the new arrivals. Louis was already shaking hands with the showman and had introduced Bonny and Jurano by the time Hilda and Dorondera reached them and distributed the oranges.

‘Ah, and here is my daughter,’ Louis said, proudly introducing her. ‘Hilda.’

Hagenbeck raised his hat and kissed the back of Hilda’s hand, but his eyes went swiftly to Dorondera. ‘And your female Australneger.’ It was his turn to smile.

‘Yes,’ Louis said. ‘Dorondera.’

Dorondera bowed slightly, and Hilda felt a deep affection for her friend as she tried to negotiate the new expectations.

‘Wilkommen.’ The showman bowed in return.

Up close, he was a bony-faced, lean man. A thin neat line of beard made a border of his jawline and congregated in a white island on his chin. He had alert, intelligent eyes and the confidence of the stage. It occurred to Hilda that Herr Hagenbeck bore an uncanny resemblance to the writer Emerson, whose photograph she had seen in the newspaper. She thought of the line her mother had most liked of his: Build your own world. Hagenbeck was doing exactly that with his zoo, Hilda reasoned, and the idea of it struck her for the first time as noble if not heroic.

When Hagenbeck bowed again, Hilda noticed a small bald patch on the crown of his head. It made him appear more human, not immune to the injustices of life. Like her father and her, he was just a person with a vision, doing his best to make it come true. The showman smiled at them, and Hilda smiled back, consciously softening her expression so that she, too, made a good first impression.

‘Wilkommen,’ he said again to them all.

‘Danke,’ Bonny responded.

Hagenbeck appeared surprised. ‘Do they speak much of our language?’

‘Some, yes. A little English, too,’ Louis answered, proudly. He took Hilda’s hand. ‘We have been teaching them.’

Hagenbeck’s surprise faded to disappointment as he turned his back to the crowd.

‘And I see they are wearing our clothes,’ he said quietly, almost without moving his lips. ‘The girl’s hair is neatly done, and the young man here even has a French beret!’ Hagenbeck laughed away his displeasure and hardened his gaze. Hilda felt her father’s grip tighten. She feared she had misread the showman after all.

‘For the journey,’ Louis explained, suddenly aware of his mistake. ‘They have other clothes for the performances.’ He released Hilda’s hand and pointed to the suitcase.

‘Good,’ Hagenbeck said. ‘“Natural” is the word we all need to keep in mind. That is where the interest lies. Natural. Exotic. Picturesque.’

Louis nodded. ‘Of course.’

Hagenbeck lowered his voice further so that Louis and Hilda had to lean in to hear him. ‘Particularly with regard to the Australneger. Others,’ he said, pointing up to the elephant riders from Ceylon, ‘less so. People expect them to be more culturally advanced. It is all about expectations.’

Louis rocked his head from side to side, stretching out his neck. ‘The Aborigines are more than capable of learning –’

‘Ja, ja …’ Hagenbeck cupped his beard in his hand. ‘But let me assure you, the scientists will insist on the Australneger being not just genuine examples of their type but as untouched by our ways as possible, and it will serve all our interests to keep the academy on side. Their opinion will determine the success or otherwise of your shows. If they refuse to sign certificates of authenticity … well, some venues will refuse to show your group, and you will not enjoy the benefits of scientific audiences. The educational lectures.

‘Sadly,’ Hagenbeck continued, ‘there are many examples of ex-performers begging on our streets. Or finding what work they can in places like this.’ He held out his hand to the crowds that had gathered around piles of goods, haggling over prices. ‘And it’s worse in London, from what I hear. The poverty there …’ He looked at Hilda and his expression eased, she suspected, intentionally. He knew how to read his audience. ‘As I say, it is very sad.’

‘It is terrible what is happening to natives in the colony also,’ Hilda said. ‘There have been very many deaths. My father I am sure has told you, but it is our hope to –’

‘Our guests are authentic, I can promise you,’ Louis said. His hands were in his pockets.

Hilda was dismayed her father had steered the conversation away from the reserve, the very reason they were here. But perhaps now was not the time.

‘They are very excited to show you their dances and songs, Herr Hagenbeck,’ Hilda said, looking at her friends.

‘And we also have the wallabies,’ Louis added, pointing to the covered crate.

Hagenbeck’s eyes shone as he extended his cane under the sheet of canvas and drew it back. A wallaby struck the side of the crate in alarm and a tuft of grey fur escaped on the cold wind. The showman dropped the cover again.

‘Just two. How many did you start with?’ He gently tapped the top of the crate with his cane as a magician might, as if hoping the numbers might multiply.

‘Three,’ Louis answered.

Hagenbeck nodded knowingly. ‘The perils of transporting wild animals,’ he said. He cast his cane along the shopfronts of the pier. ‘Hamburg is a veritable entrepôt for such trade. My father had a store here …’ He laughed to himself. ‘A funny story. It all started by accident. Luck, really. Four seals …’

Hilda’s father raised his eyebrows for him to continue.

Hagenbeck pointed in the direction of the fish markets further downriver and addressed his tale mostly to Hilda.

‘My father was a fishmonger,’ he began, apparently in no hurry to leave. The crowd was enjoying being close to the elephants, and some of the onlookers were now paying attention to Bonny, Dorondera and Jurano. ‘One day a fisherman delivered to him four seals, which he kept for me – I was just a small boy then – and it turned out there was money in it,’ Hagenbeck continued. ‘Rewards far greater than merely the smile of his son. In short, an audience.’ Without taking his eyes from Hilda, he again cast his hand around the surrounding crowd. A young woman was trying to converse with the Badtjala group. Bonny was doing his best to answer in German, something Hagenbeck hadn’t appeared to notice, so engrossed was he in the story he was telling.

‘My father collected more animals, creatures of all shapes and sizes, from jungles to deserts and everything in between. Exotic specimens with stripes and spots and in all the colours of the rainbow.’ Something in Herr Hagenbeck’s romantic storytelling reminded Hilda of Old Jack. Hagenbeck continued, ‘People here had never seen such incredible sights. It sparked their imaginations, made them feel they had travelled to distant corners of the globe. I have merely followed in his footsteps. Like you, Fräulein, I have travelled widely.’ He nodded at Louis, as if to congratulate him for having shown Hilda the world.

‘Our thierpark soon outgrew the grounds my father was using and is now located past these gardens, up near the Neuer Pferdemarkt.’ Hagenbeck indicated inland from the river Elbe. ‘About twenty minutes’ walk. Ten on elephant or by coach. The garden is located behind our house, which I hope you will find convenient. It is, I believe, a beautiful and exotic universe away from all this noise.’’

‘We look forward to seeing it,’ Louis said. ‘And, again, thank you for –’

‘My point is,’ Hagenbeck interrupted again, tapping the top of the wallabies’ crate, ‘it takes years of experience to learn what is required to house animals, but many traders are lazy and omit the basics. They crowd creatures together in cages. Feed them wrongly.’ He looked at the crate and back at Louis. ‘You have brought their local food of course?’

‘Some grain, yes, but they eat mostly grass,’ Louis answered.

‘Spring is here, it is true, but our thierpark is more a courtyard than a garden. We will do our best. One day we will expand further. There is land outside of the city – I have great dreams. The Völkerschauen are proving a success, by and large …’ His voice trailed off as he studied the Badtjala trio again. ‘As soon as we can, we will tour your group. There is great interest all across Europe in such shows. Enormous interest. You will be surprised at the scale.’

Louis’s grin revealed a broken molar. He pointed up at the dark-skinned riders. ‘And these people are from …?’

‘Ceylon. Like the elephants. It is their second time here. Some have returned with more members of their families. We have even had a baby born in our small “village”.’

Louis looked at Hilda and nodded as if to say, See? It is as I said. They are happy. They have returned. He gave the back of Hilda’s neck a gentle pinch.

Hagenbeck lay a hand on the flank of the nearest elephant, patting it. He grew serious.

‘But, of course, having got them here safely is no guarantee … There are many dangers, for the animals and people alike. Things you would never dream of. Things even I never dreamed of. Not in my worst nightmares.’ He appeared to be remembering something unpleasant.

‘Yes?’ Louis asked, his eyebrows raised once more, their long greying hairs forming question marks against his forehead.

‘We lost some elephants in the most unexpected and terrible way …’ Hagenbeck started.

‘Oh?’ Hilda felt sick in her stomach.

‘Maybe later …’ Hagenbeck slapped the nearest elephant gently on the rear. It swayed and took a loping step forwards. ‘It is a story for later.’

Dorondera tugged at Hilda’s arm for a translation. At the same time, a young red-haired girl lifted Dorondera’s dress and attempted to peer underneath.

‘She has legs just like you and I,’ Hilda said, accidentally dropping the orange she was holding as she unfastened the girl’s small fist. The elephant quickly plucked the orange from the ground and ate it.

Hagenbeck laughed and patted the young girl on the head. ‘She is just curious. It’s normal. But we should not let the audience too close just yet.’ He reached into his coat pocket and extracted a vial. ‘With your permission, Herr Müller, I would like to vaccinate the three of them against smallpox without delay, as I said in our correspondence. Or have you done so already?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ Louis said. He appeared shocked and caught off guard. ‘Vaccination was not widespread in Queensland. Not for the Aborigines. I made some enquiries …’ He stepped sideways, obscuring Hilda’s view of the showman. Hilda stepped sideways also, so she could better see. Her father continued, ‘And you had offered. But I’m not sure doing it here on the docks … I thought you would do it at the thierpark. Even back on the ship?’

‘I would like the public to see me doing it …’

Louis shook his head, not comprehending. Hilda felt a creeping nervousness run up her arms. If she could see her skin under the light jacket and long-sleeved dress, there would be goosebumps.

‘You may have heard of the sad fate of the Eskimos who most recently visited,’ Hagenbeck said, placing a firm hand on Louis’s shoulder. ‘It was upsetting for all of us. They had the worst form of the disease, it is true. There is even debate about whether the vaccination protects against that variant, but I must do everything humanly possible to avoid a similar occurrence …’ The showman leaned in and dropped his voice. ‘There was much criticism, and frankly the thierpark can’t afford any more of it. The audience must not be in any doubt that I have taken every step to keep the performers from falling ill.’ The showman looked Louis in the eye until Hilda’s father nodded that he understood.

‘Please, yes,’ Louis said. ‘Without delay.’

Dorondera was peeling her orange and offering Hilda half. Bonny and Jurano were still holding theirs, unopened, the brightest things on the pier.

‘Right now?’ Hilda asked, her voice panicked. Dorondera looked at her, puzzled.

‘Please ask her to stay still,’ Hagenbeck said as he stepped towards Dorondera and took hold of her arm. He drew from his interior coat pocket a needle. Alarmed, Dorondera stepped backwards and took shelter behind her uncle.

‘What is he doing?’ Jurano asked Hilda loudly in Badtjala.

Hilda answered quickly in the same language. ‘It is to keep you well. Powerful medicine against disease.’ She looked again at her father and Hagenbeck, who seemed impressed by her use of the Aboriginal language and pleased at the spectacle the public vaccination had become.

‘Tell them it is very important,’ Hagenbeck boomed. ‘I don’t want them falling ill, or worse.’

Hilda looked back at her friends. ‘It will stop you from getting the bad sickness, the one that makes the horrible lumps. You saw the scars on the faces of people in Brisbane. Remember? Many people died. Your people, also.’

The crowd had gone silent, captivated by the unfolding scene.

‘Tell them it is law in France also,’ Hagenbeck said. ‘They will not be able to travel there without proof of vaccination.’

Hilda extended her own arm and wriggled her shoulder out through the neck opening. ‘It is safe, Dorondera. Look,’ she said in Badtjala. There were murmurings in the crowd, and Hilda noticed some of the women turning away. The crewman Fritz had stopped unloading to stare.

‘Hilda,’ her father said, coughing behind his hand. He flicked his eyes upward to suggest that she should again cover her shoulder.

‘You haven’t had the injection either?’ Hagenbeck asked her. He had the crowd’s complete attention.

When Hilda didn’t answer, he looked to Louis.

‘I don’t suppose a second will hurt. Quickly then,’ Louis said.

Hagenbeck vaccinated Hilda, and she made a point of not flinching. Finally, Dorondera stepped forwards and offered up her bare shoulder.

‘Good,’ Hagenbeck said, holding her arm and injecting her. He nodded for Bonny and Jurano to also step forwards, which they did, and the ordeal was soon over. Hilda noticed a man, she supposed he was a journalist, among the crowd, taking notes.

Hagenbeck called Hilda and her father closer. ‘It may seem an odd request, but I would appreciate it if they could please reboard the ship and change into their traditional dress before the parade resumes. The crowd will grow as we near the thierpark and they will expect to see authentic savages. It is important we don’t disappoint.’

Hilda glanced at Dorondera, who looked so lovely in the red dress, her hair braided under the bonnet, and was embarrassed to translate the request. Dorondera came to Germany to sing and dance, yes, but also to be treated as a lady. And what would Bonny and Jurano think? Bonny held himself proudly in his white shirt, coat and trousers, and the beret was keeping his head warm.

‘Of course,’ Louis said, taking the beret from Bonny’s head and asking him to put it in his pocket. ‘It was an oversight, Herr Hagenbeck.’ He nodded at Hilda before turning to Bonny, Jurano and Dorondera.

‘Herr Hagenbeck wants people see your clothes,’ he said in broken Badtjala. He handed Bonny the suitcase with the costumes. ‘And he wants see you with your weapons. Fierce.’

‘We are to dance now?’ Bonny asked in German. ‘To sing? To throw the bar’gan? The boomerangs?’

Hagenbeck coughed. ‘They must speak in their own tongue,’ he said behind his hand.

Louis nodded. He spoke again in Badtjala. ‘No, Bonny. No dancing. No weapons today,’ he said, then reconsidered. ‘Maybe something, yes. But not all. Later. But the people want see you in K’gari clothes. All time. And speak Badtjala. Only Badtjala.’

‘You understand this?’ Bonny asked Hilda, but Herr Hagenbeck was already giving her an instruction that she felt obliged to follow.

‘Let me show you to the carriage, Fräulein,’ he said. ‘You might as well be comfortable.’ He pointed at one of the Sinhalese men and directed him to open the carriage door and load Hilda’s suitcase.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, though gratitude was not what she felt. She ducked her head and went inside. The bench seat was indeed comfortable, and when the Sinhalese man shut the door it blocked out some of the noise. It was a relief to be cocooned away again like this, as if she were once more on the ship, away from the masses. But, as she watched her friends walk away, she felt a gaping separation and a growing unease. She grasped for the happiness and excitement she had thought she would be feeling on this, their first day in Germany. She must give it time, she thought. The crowd gathered around the carriage, obscuring her view.