Paris Savages

Hilda stayed by Bonny’s side at the hotel. She fed him, talked to him, treated his wounds, sang even, as best she could. She sent her father for trips to the markets to buy whatever it was that Bonny felt like eating. She herself had no appetite. When Haeckel came to the door to check on Bonny’s progress, she sent him away.

Slowly, Bonny regained his strength. He opened his eyes and, very occasionally, to Hilda’s surprise, smiled at her.

From the doorway, her father thanked her for her troubles and care of Bonny. She looked at him there, his paunch touching the frame. He was at his best on K’gari, Hilda thought. She remembered loving him then. She had thought him capable and clever.

Would her mother disapprove of her coldness if she were here? Hilda shook her head at the thought. Christel would have made a stand before now.

When Bonny was finally strong enough, Hilda walked with him outside. They strolled in the autumn air through the Parc de la Tête d’Or, unconcerned by the stares of passers-by, some of whom recognised Bonny from the shows he had performed a month before. Louis insisted the three of them walk together, yet Hilda spoke only to Bonny.

They made a habit of stopping at a park stall and ordering hot crepes with chestnut cream, Bonny’s favourite.

‘The hotel here is expensive and we are again running very low on funds,’ Louis said.

‘You must leave the finances to me, Hilda. Which reminds me …’ He broached the subject tentatively, their crepes steaming in their hands. ‘We have been made a good offer. A most handsome offer. There is to be a large scientific meeting here in Lyon, the biggest of its kind, in fact, and we have been asked to attend the presentation of Bonny’s cast.’

‘You said the cast-making would be the end of it!’ She paced. ‘I cannot support this!’

‘Just hear me out, please,’ her father continued. ‘I have thought about what you said, and you are right. It is time to act on our goal of a reserve. The scientists who will attend the meeting are convinced of the uniqueness of Bonny’s type. I will ask them all to make a collective call for protection. I will write a letter, a petition, for them to sign, and we will then take it to the English Queen, along with a copy of the cast. This will be the absolute last appearance.’ He looked at Hilda. ‘It will help our case to attend with Bonny this final time.’

‘Professor Virchow, of course, has been invited, too,’ her father said. ‘We need his support.’

‘No doubt.’ Her father smiled only slightly, shaking his head. ‘I don’t like him either, Hilda.’

The meeting was held in the lecture room of the Musée d’Histoire Naturelle.

Bonny entered wearing his beret to cover a bald patch where the hair had not yet regrown. The full cast stood in the corner of the lecture theatre. It had been painted brown and was extraordinarily lifelike. Bonny went to it and regarded it curiously, tracing the veins on the cast’s arms with his finger and noting the fine skin pores. Professor Virchow, Manouvrier and Chantre were already in attendance, along with several Africans and Eskimos, who were all standing silently at the side of the small stage.

Unexpectedly, Bonny’s face lit up in a smile, and Hilda followed his gaze. Dorondera was in the audience with Monsieur Perouse, seated five rows back on the left side. Hilda’s heart soared. Dorondera appeared radiant in a vivid blue dress and waved a gloved hand in their direction, beckoning them.

Hilda ran up the stairs and embraced her friend before kissing Eric Perouse, once on each cheek. ‘She wanted to surprise you,’ the Frenchman said. ‘And, Bonny, are you well?’ he asked, shaking Bonny’s hand.

Hilda had written to Dorondera every week, in French, which Dorondera was learning to read. Bonny’s shameful plaster burns were not mentioned in the letters.

‘We are well, thank you, yes,’ she answered when Bonny did not.

Hilda remembered that deep in her purse was the handkerchief containing Dorondera’s pearls. She had guiltily thought of selling the jewels and using the money to take Bonny to England.

‘Your pearls, Dorondera,’ she said, returning them. ‘For a necklace.’

‘Welcome!’ Manouvrier announced loudly from the front of the room. Hilda’s father was standing tall at the man’s side. ‘May we all take our seats to begin?’ Manouvrier continued. ‘We are fortunate to have with us people from four distinct regions: Southern Africa, Somalia, the northern Arctic and Australia. Some have even made homes for themselves in our country, and I welcome them, too.’ He smiled at Dorondera. ‘We are fortunate also to have in our presence esteemed anthropologists and doctors of medicine from across Europe.’ He looked to Professor Virchow to his right. ‘Germany,’ he said, ‘is well represented, as always.’ There was a small wave of laughter. ‘Let us start first with the Aborigine.’ Manouvrier called Bonny to the front of the room. ‘Of whom we now have a most excellent copy!’ He pointed at the cast, then back at Bonny. ‘Could we ask that you remove your shirt and the hat please, Bonny?’ Manouvrier asked, giving Bonny’s shirt a gentle tug. Bonny tugged Manouvrier’s shirt in reply.

‘You, too,’ Bonny said in French. It was not a question but a proud command.

Manouvrier laughed. Then, realising Bonny was serious, the Frenchman dipped his head in agreement.

‘Very well,’ he said and began to unbutton his own shirt. Again, a wave of laughter rippled through the crowd. Hilda turned and saw Dorondera, in profile, smiling. There was a swelling in Dorondera’s belly. Hilda felt her cheeks flush at the realisation and returned her gaze to the front of the room. Only when Manouvrier was shirtless did Bonny remove his beret and shirt.

Manouvrier hung the items on the coat rack and bowed at the joking applause from the audience. Unclothed, the French scientist appeared smaller. His slender white torso was only lightly muscled compared with Bonny’s, and his bright red nipples were positioned, Hilda thought, too low on his chest, like those of a female monkey. She laughed to herself at the thought and at the man’s sudden vulnerability. Still, she respected the fact he had complied with Bonny’s request. Many in the room would have refused.

Manouvrier approached Bonny and shook his hand, noting aloud the anatomical features that he said distinguished Bonny’s type from the other groups in the room. Manouvrier claimed further that in the hot climate of Queensland, these characteristics would have been advantageous. He looked quizzically at the bald patch on Bonny’s head but did not comment.

The Frenchman continued his lecture for some minutes concluding that if the gathered group could work together to collate their findings concerning all the living Australians who had visited their shores over the last year, with findings on the Zulus, Asiatics and South Americans, then they would have a scientific paper that could be highly influential in developing an improved understanding of race.

‘Would there be any objections to such sharing? Have any of you anything you would wish to add?’ he asked.

‘Papa, please raise the topic of protection. The reserve.’

Louis stood. ‘For those who are unaware, Bonny, the Australneger before you, is from a group in Queensland, a people, who are under threat. It is my hope that this audience writes to the Queensland government supporting calls for a reserve,’ he said. ‘I intend to also petition the Queen of England.’

‘I think you are confusing us with the Quakers,’ Haeckel said. ‘I hear they have established an Aborigines’ Protection Society. That is the forum for such action …’

‘I have been in touch with the Quakers in London, and they are supportive of –’

‘Let us first establish our findings,’ Haeckel said, leaving his seat. He placed a square box on the counter at the front of the lecture theatre. ‘I noted in my last research paper that there are differences in the nasal region between some of the related Aborigines we have examined. For example …’

He went to open the box but paused. ‘Actually, before I show you this, it occurs to me that we are fortunate to have casts of the entire group of three taken in Dresden and Berlin, not just the exceptional full-body replica of this man. You have copies here in Lyon. Can those be brought out also, please?’

Manouvrier signalled to the museum worker to bring the busts in. ‘They are just inside the door of the storeroom,’ he said. ‘Yet to go on display.’

Moments later, three men arrived, each carrying a cast: the faces and torsos of Bonny, Jurano and Dorondera.

‘So, here again is Bonny, also his compatriots Alfred and Susanne …’

Hilda’s hand went to her mouth. Dorondera’s distress during the casting process was evident. Had her father been present that day in Dresden? She looked at Jurano’s cast and saw nothing of the man with the high-pitched laugh. She knew at once the cast had been made after his death, at a different time from the casts of Bonny and Dorondera. Only Bonny’s mask resembled him. Hilda spun around to see Dorondera, who had buried her face in her husband’s shoulder. Monsieur Perouse, Hilda could tell, was incensed.

‘Now,’ Haeckel said, lifting the lid on the box behind Bonny’s back. ‘This man who we knew as Alfred …’ He held up a skull.

A wave of panic washed over Hilda.

Haeckel continued, ‘He had a nose that was less broad than that of the man before us. People have argued that some of these features are typical, but I say there is great diversity, even on the same small island.’

Haeckel was talking quickly, as was his habit when speaking French, perhaps an attempt to hide his many mistakes, and Hilda hoped Bonny had not caught the name. Had not registered the full horror. Perhaps Hilda herself was mistaken. Her legs were shaking. Put it away, she thought. Get it out of sight.

‘Alfred,’ Haeckel continued, ‘was not related to Bonny, but he was from the same island …’

Hilda’s father had assured her Jurano had been properly buried. He had assured Bonny and Dorondera. Hilda looked at her father, but he was staring at his shoes, his body tense beside her, his face almost unrecognisable.

Bonny, seeing Dorondera’s reaction, looked behind him, his expression stoic and proud, determined not to be intimidated. He didn’t appear to yet realise whose skull Haeckel had in his hand.

Hilda turned again to Dorondera, who had gone very still. Monsieur Perouse was whispering something in his wife’s ear. He had his arm around her shoulders as she started to cry. They stood to leave, and Bonny watched as his distressed friend was ushered swiftly from the room. He looked to Hilda for an explanation.

‘Some of us here had the good fortune,’ Haeckel continued, moving the skull so that it became animate, ‘to meet this Queenslander, who was known amongst his compatriots as Ju-ra-no …’

Bonny turned back to face Haeckel and charged at the man, shouting at him in Badtjala, ‘Put it down!’ Bonny repeated the instruction in German.

Haeckel pushed his glasses back up onto his nose and suppressed a laugh as Hilda’s father rushed to the stage and tried to placate Bonny. There were murmurs amongst the audience of unprofessionalism on Haeckel’s part. Bonny snatched the skull and held it high over his head, out of reach of the men surrounding him.

‘Please, Bonny,’ Louis said, reaching for the skull. ‘Haeckel, you were a fool to bring that here!’

Hilda glowered at her father, and briefly met Bonny’s eye.

‘Minyang-gu?’ Bonny shouted. Why?

Bonny pushed the men away and ran for the door, his compatriot’s skull now tucked under his arm.

Hilda quickly followed. ‘I didn’t know. I am so sorry.’ But Bonny wasn’t listening. He snatched his shirt from the coat rack, tearing the collar on the hook, and fled from the room.

In the wide corridor outside the lecture theatre, Bonny embraced Dorondera, who was weeping.

‘You said he had been buried,’ Dorondera accused Hilda.

‘I thought he had!’ Hilda turned to her father behind her. ‘You knew about this!’

‘The hospital arranged it. It was out of my hands …’ he said.

Hilda could not bear the sight of the skull, Jurano’s hollow eyes staring back at her, the mouth that had once laughed that high-pitched laugh now a gaping silence. Her father put his hand on her shoulder, but she pushed it away.

‘You are deplorable!’ she told him. ‘I am ashamed to be your daughter.’

Bonny broke from the group and tore down the stairs, the ripped shirt trailing behind him. When Hilda went to chase after him, her father took hold of her arm.

‘You have grown too close, Hilda,’ he said. ‘Let him go. He will come back.’ His face tightened as he whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at Bonny when he performs. And the way he looks at you. Don’t think others haven’t noticed also.’

‘I see I have caused a bit of unrest,’ Haeckel said behind them. ‘It’s not as if it’s the first skull you’ve sold me.’

‘What?’ Hilda asked. She wanted to go after Bonny but needed to hear this.

Her father glared at the German doctor.

‘What are you talking about?’ Hilda repeated.

‘Your father was very generous with what he supplied me when he first arrived. A large crate of skeletal material.’ He held his hands wide, then deep. ‘From the colony of Queensland.’

Hilda thought of the crate they had brought with them from K’gari. She thought, too, of the times her mother had cried over stories of massacre and the horrors of men, and even a German woman, who had stolen bodies from graves and loaded them onto ships for display in Germany, London and Paris. Christel had once caught two English bone collectors disturbing graves on Kgari and had shaken her head at them. ‘Someone has beaten you to it!’

‘Go then. If you must. Go!’ Louis said, releasing Hilda’s arm and pointing down the stairway.

But Hilda stayed as Haeckel continued, ‘You should be proud of your father. I don’t know how he sourced such excellent …’

Manouvrier came into the corridor, buttoning a shirt that was clearly too big for him. Bonny’s shirt, Hilda thought, turning and running down the stairs after her friend.

‘Hilda!’ her father called.

She departed the building without looking back at the man she could no longer call her father.