Above the noisy cicadas and comfy crickets, a lone rasping voice punctuated the stillness of the hot night. Every now and then it spouted unusual words.
“Step inside! Step inside!”
Above the tent’s curving lines sailed two flags, each upon the large uprights from which the canvas was suspended. Upwardly illuminated from the glowing lights inside the ring where the action would later take place, these flags had on them the words ‘Circus’ and ‘Vita’, something that could only be observed when a lazy wind took them one way or another.
“This way, ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin.”
From villages and farms all around, the people drove, cycled and even walked to this show—the only one some had ever seen. The carnival had only yesterday passed through the biggest town in the region, an event of great wonder in itself. This had guaranteed the interest of all but the most intransigent of religious belligerents, of which it must be said there was a sizeable minority. Their response was a dour all-night prayer meeting followed by a daily vigil outside the town hall at noon to demonstrate in no uncertain terms that the good Lord wouldn’t countenance such evil.
“What’s your pleasure? What’s your delight?”
It was, for many, a first time of seeing an elephant beyond the pages of a children’s textbook. No one could ever remember bears and fearsome lions on Main Street. Such exotica confirmed in the hearts of many that the town was rapidly growing and becoming a source of increased revenue for locals and an attractor for visitors such as these. The outside world, with all its influences, was walking through the heart of the town. For most, the slow trickle of hard-working immigrants from back East were welcomed fairly, but strangers such as these carnies and circus types, as alien as the animals themselves, were watched with guarded eyes.
“See the spectacles! Take in the treats! All for your very own performance, ladies and gentlemen.”
The carnival procession that Friday took place after the big top had been set up and the nearby wagons and cages formed into a defensive tabor formation. The uniformed brass band played marches and waltzes as the lengthy parade twirled, sparkled and waved at the dazzled and dozy citizens wholly unused to such visions of razzle-dazzle. Leading them all, and holding tightly the hand of the trapeze artist’s young girl, herself bedecked in spangles and waving the stars and stripes, was the Barker, owner of the circus and commander of his troop and all that went on from day to day.
“Be amazed at the audacity of the magnificent Periculum family as they defy death swinging on the high trapeze. Be stunned at the strength of Robustus, the strongest man alive!”
From outside, the circus seemed to epitomize the very weirdness of human life that existed elsewhere: dwarf acrobats and giant strongmen, stupid clowns and mysterious magicians, beautiful girls baring their stockinged legs on horseback, and terrifying wild animals tamed by man. And it worked, for ticket numbers for each show for the following week were near capacity, the lamplit rows filled with the good and the bad, the quick and the slow, the young and the old.
“And now… for your pleasure and entertainment… the Sollievo Brothers!”
From behind the long red curtains emerged a little car driven at ridiculous speed and from which protruded feet, gloved hands, an outlandish head and loud shiny costumes. It came to a noisy stop and each clown tumbled from a window at once ready to perform. Their first routine encouraged warmth from the audience through the usual tumbling slapstick and interaction. At the peak of an approving roar of laughter, the curtain opened once again to reveal a cycling bear dressed in a little clown costume of his own and making his way towards them. Showing exaggerated panic, each clown leaped into the air, gathered their discarded props and made a run for it through the audience. The bear circled the ring, lightly sniffing the air, but after two circuits followed the clowns’ car being towed backstage.
“Circus Vita is the best circus in the world!”
The progression of acts –dangerous animals, fire-eaters and crack-shots, stylish acrobats and trapeze artists, clowns, perilous skilled horsemen and women– had their moment within the ring; that warmly-illuminated central arena. The country audience, enthusiastic and amazed, smiled, cheered, clapped, and held their breathing at appropriate moments. From the side, the Barker, the mature announcer who knew the show moment by moment, made keen eye movements on all activities. The routines had been endlessly practiced, the animals cautiously trained, the audience watched for undesirables and attention-seekers that might disturb the show. Once in every ten minutes or so, he would bend over to whisper something to one of the stagehands wearing black that were partially hidden behind the curtain. They would run around the back of the band and leave the show in order to carry a message or perform some task.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honour to introduce the entire cast. Give them all a big hand!”
The band struck up a triumphal march as each act returned in a procession around the ring; by now every man in the audience had his favourite and every woman eyed her attractor. The children’s tired late-evening attentions were engaged with a tiger cub carried by a beautiful girl who let some of the front row hands stroke the poor animal’s back and tail.
“That’s the end of the show, ladies and gentlemen. You’ve been magnificent! Be sure to visit Circus Vita next time we pass this way!”
For days children would return to the field within which the circus had camped, tracing out the perimeter of the big top by the large tent peg holes, the circular patch of sawdust of the ring, and the indentations left by the lions’ and bear’s cages. Even the massive dried elephant dung was kicked over with delight. Eventually, even these pleasures were to fade, and other regular attractions were discovered in the usual environment, but the remnant of the circus was the spectacle that fed the imagination. That humans could do this, instead of farming, instead of going to work in the city, proved that life could be exciting. Some children wanted to be the horsemen, swift and daring, others the lion tamers and clowns and even those that risked life daily on the trapeze, but all agreed that to be the Barker, the owner and director of the whole show would be the grandest job of all.
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