1

Backstage, the Berlin Panoptikum was a jungle of stage props: a stuffed tiger and monkey, several spears and an artificial tree with leaves of cloth. Through cracks in the curtains, Hilda watched as Castan leapt onto the stage. He made a joke of introducing Professor Virchow, the real one, ‘in the flesh’, and the audience laughed. Hilda had heard there was a replica of the professor in the adjoining waxworks museum.

‘I like to think that my shows are not only entertaining but educational and of scientific merit. You come to be amused and amazed, but also to be informed. Let me hand you then to the learned, esteemed professor.’

Professor Virchow bowed to the large audience, which applauded roundly, flashing gold watches and diamond rings.

‘I would like to begin with an account of where the three Aborigines were found,’ Virchow began. ‘They come from the colony of Queensland, north of the twenty-ninth latitude and east of the 145 degrees longitude. The colony is 31,000 square miles in size, hence bigger than Germany, Austria, Hungary and Switzerland combined. When Herr Müller arrived in 1876, there were 173, 283 inhabitants living there, among them 5109 Aborigines. There is a war of extermination between them, so it won’t be long until the natives will be wiped out. We are dealing with the representatives of a disappearing race …’ He paused for effect, looking towards the stage wings. Hilda hoped her friends had not understood.

Dorondera leaned close to Hilda. ‘They won’t want to touch me?’ she asked, pulling back the curtain slightly to see the crowd, who were meticulously dressed and coiffured.

‘No,’ Hilda said. ‘They just want to see your beautiful dances. And Bonny and Jurano will pretend to fight.’

Professor Virchow signalled to the Badtjala group and, clapping his hands, retreated with Castan to the stage wings.

Behind the heavy curtains, Bonny began to rhythmically strike the two boomerangs he was holding, and the clean, sharp sound silenced the audience with what the Hamburg newspapers had called a ‘primitive power’. A smoke machine, an invention Hilda had not seen before, sent a swirling, shifting fog across the stage and out above the crowd. Shhh, listen.

The spotlight searched the haze at the stage edge.

‘Go now, Dorondera,’ Louis urged under his breath.

Bonny began to sing, a lone voice in the darkness, and Hilda watched the confused audience searching for the source of the eerie, magical sound.

‘Dorondera, go!’ Hilda’s father pushed her gently in the back.

Dorondera dropped her eyes to the floor and stepped onto the stage in her possum-skin dress, the collar and hem blood red in the lights. The crowd applauded wildly but still Dorondera did not look up. She began to dance.

‘It is no wonder she is timid, living among savages,’ Castan ventured.

‘She was not timid before …’ Hilda began.

‘She gives a completely virginal impression,’ Professor Virchow whispered. ‘Which is impressive given the early age of puberty in their hot homeland. Really, one could be fooled into believing she had gone to one of the best schools in European society.’

Dorondera slid her hands against each other, then cast them outwards, first to her left, then her right. She stomped her feet and began to clap in time with Bonny’s strikes of the boomerangs. Quietly, she began to sing.

‘Go!’ Louis said, and Bonny and Jurano joined Dorondera. They looked striking, Hilda thought, in their cut-off trousers, their bare torsos striated with white ochre. She thought of the dance she had witnessed on the ship, the way the men had resembled skeletons in the moonlight.

Bonny continued to sing with Dorondera and clapped the bar’gan together as Jurano performed the dance of the Wu’roo’maa, the bird the settlers called the brahminy kite. The wooden stage vibrated under his emphatic stomps.

‘You must make sure to feed them well, Herr Müller,’ Virchow instructed. ‘House them properly. Many fall ill on our shores.’

‘They have been vaccinated against smallpox,’ Hilda’s father answered, as if the idea had been his.

‘That might be, but their environment is more important. Disease strikes damaged cells. It is a social disorder. Something all of society must grapple with.’

Hilda could see that her father was intrigued by the professor and his not always unpalatable views.

Bonny and Jurano began a mock fight, which ended with Jurano holding his spear over Bonny, who was lying on the ground after falling theatrically. The crowd gasped their horror as Jurano thrust the spear hard towards Bonny but instead struck the floor.

‘No! They will ruin the stage!’ Castan said, stepping into the spotlight and clapping to bring the performance to a close.

Bonny bowed deeply and returned to the stage wings, baulking at something behind Hilda. Over her shoulder, Hilda saw an enormous man approaching. She had read of ‘Chang the Chinese Giant’ in an article on Barnum’s circus.

The giant was wearing a vast silk robe intricately patterned with flowers. A long white collar, held together with a decorative silver pin, extended all the way to his waist. Chang’s hair was shaved back to the crown of his head, where it fell in a tight, black plait to the floor. In his hand was a paper fan and a book. He was not only taller than anyone Hilda had ever seen, but larger. His chest and body formed a wall now beside them. On the smallest of his fingers, Chang wore a ring that Hilda would have been able to fit over two of her fingers. From behind him, a dwarf, also Chinese and attired similarly to the giant, burst forth. He reached only to Chang’s knee.

Hilda looked again at Bonny, who was standing stock still, running his right index and middle fingers quickly against each other. It was something he had recently started doing when uncomfortable and wishing to leave, although Hilda had never seen him run from anything. In the shadows of the curtains, she reached out and clutched his fingers to still them. It was the first time they had held hands, and Hilda felt a quickening in her chest. After several long seconds, Bonny and Hilda let go of each other. A white woman and two young children were approaching backstage, and when the woman reached Chang’s side he bent down and kissed her cheek.

Castan announced the act and, remaining on the stage, joined in with the audience’s applause, now a steady and expectant beating.

Chang lifted the dwarf into his arms and made his way to the stage front, where he bowed and shook the hands of several dignitaries in the front row. The simple act of ceasing to bow and again standing tall brought more applause.

‘I’m Catherine, Chang’s wife,’ said the woman beside Hilda, extending her hand. Hilda failed to hide her surprise and the woman laughed good-naturedly. ‘Yes, many think we make an unusual couple.’

Chang recited a long Chinese poem and then translated it into German as the dwarf roamed around the audience and was passed again to the front.

Hilda introduced herself to Chang’s wife. ‘You were in America recently,’ Hilda observed. ‘With Barnum …’

The woman rolled her eyes. ‘That charlatan. Never agree to work with him.’

Hilda thought she detected a faint Australian accent. She was about to ask when the crowd applauded, and Chang and his dwarf swiftly exited the stage. The giant took his wife’s hand and the family was gone, the dwarf running quickly behind.

Hilda’s father looked at Hilda and winked. ‘You see, some make a profession of it. They have travelled the world.’

‘Catherine is Australian?’ Hilda asked.

‘She is.’

Next in the wings were a group billed as Sioux Indians, whose vast feather headdresses reached a yard above them. Hilda squeezed Dorondera’s arm excitedly, anticipating the spectacle.

‘They are not Sioux,’ Virchow told them bitterly. ‘Look at their faces.’

‘Don’t they have a certificate?’ Hilda asked, her enthusiasm evaporating. ‘I thought it was vital.’ She turned to her father.

‘No, and Castan didn’t ask me for one! He is not stupid,’ Virchow said, clearly irritated. ‘The audience wants Sioux headdresses and war dances, so he gives them Sioux headdresses and war dances. They don’t know one sort of Indian from another. It’s infuriating, and it reflects badly on me, my professionalism. I came here to authorise your group, and he makes it look as if I have verified these people also. I did not even know they would be here, riding on my coat-tails and yours.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I have seen enough. I bid you goodnight.’

Hilda watched the professor disappear into a cloud of pearl-studded plumage, the costumes of a troupe of French acrobats, the next act. She tried to hide her anger over the apparently unnecessary scientific studies.

‘We would not be able to tour without the correct paperwork, Hilda,’ her father said. She didn’t answer.

How many more performances would there be? The number and array were dizzying, and Hilda closed her eyes to listen to the beating of the drums and the low, stirring singing.

‘And now, for some entertainers from closer to home: les acrobates,’ Castan proclaimed in an accent that led Hilda to believe they were the only French words he knew.

One of the dancers handed Dorondera her heavily perfumed fur, which she had been wearing across her front, given the obstacle of angel wings. The dancer used her boot to snub out a cigarette on the wooden floor before being carried on stage on the shoulders of two male performers, who tossed her to breathtaking heights. The other female performers were attached to wires and appeared to fly. Dorondera drew the white fur under her chin as she watched, spellbound. Then the acrobats, too, were gone, the fur coat suddenly snatched from Dorondera’s embrace by its panting, glossy-skinned owner.

‘And our last performance for the evening: the Great Farini and Krao, the Missing Link!’ called Castan, directing the crowd’s attention to the left aisle where a man with dark hair and a neat, triangular beard was carrying a young creature towards the stage. There were cries of astonishment as he passed with what appeared to be a large monkey. The man carried the being up the stage steps, stood it on a stool, and turned to the audience, arms outstretched, taking in their applause. Only then did Hilda see that the object of curiosity was a naked, hair-covered child.

Castan puffed out his chest and referred to his notes: ‘The creature you see before you was discovered in remote Laos and is thought to be evidence of the transmission state, a missing link if you will, between man and monkey; put simply, proof of Darwin’s theory of evolution.’

Many in the audience shook their heads.

‘Although of course this is controversial,’ Castan said, raising a finger in the air. ‘Our own Professor Virchow, for one, disagrees,’ he said, looking up and trying to locate Rudolf Virchow in the wings. ‘Nevertheless, this specimen is intriguing. Come and regard the creature for yourselves as you make your way out. You can make up your own mind. And do not forget that the beer garden is open and serving refreshments.’

The people in the front row were now all standing, and many craned forwards to better see the child. Some touched Krao’s hair, which the placid child let them do. Several patrons crouched low to see if they could confirm ‘the creature’s’ gender, only to stand again, each shaking their head in frustration.

Dorondera, Jurano and Bonny held back the stage curtains and stared at Krao with a mixture of pity and revulsion.

‘It’s just a poor child,’ Louis said, turning away.

Why was no one rescuing the poor little thing, Hilda thought. Her mother would have put a stop to it.

‘Papa …’

‘Your performers are invited to join us in the beer garden,’ Castan called, walking quickly towards them, red in the cheeks from exertion. ‘As you can see, the audiences enjoy very much being close to our acts, and it might be their only chance to see such types as you have kindly brought us. Herr Hagenbeck has arranged a reporter from our newspaper, I believe. What detained Hagenbeck in Hamburg, do you know? Another arrival of animals or exotic visitors?’

‘I don’t know what kept him,’ Louis said.

‘But you will join us?’ Castan asked. ‘In the beer garden.’

‘A beer?’ Louis asked Bonny and Jurano, holding up his index finger to emphasise the amount. He was looking particularly at Jurano. Hilda had heard Herr Hagenbeck say he would not tolerate any news of ‘drunkenness’ or ‘quarrels’.

‘We will be very close to the people?’ Dorondera asked in her own language. She looked across to the crowd gathering around Krao.

Hilda did not know what to say. She was appalled at the behaviour of her fellow Germans, but if she, her father and their Badtjala friends did not meet the journalist Hagenbeck had arranged, the reporter would invent his own story, and Hilda doubted it would be positive.

‘I won’t let them touch you,’ Hilda said, linking arms with her friend. ‘It will be fun. You deserve a celebration.’