[At rise is seen the entrance to a tent, out of which steps an animal-tamer, with long, black curls, dressed in a white cravat, a vermilion dress-coat, white trousers and white top-boots. He carries in his left hand a dog-whip and in his right a loaded revolver, and enters to the sound of cymbals and kettledrums.]
Walk in! Walk in to the menagerie,
Proud gentlemen and ladies lively and merry.
With avid lust or cold disgust, the very
Beast without Soul bound and made secondary
To human genius, to stay and see!
Walk in, the show’ll begin!—As customary,
One child to each two persons comes in free.
Here battle man and brute in narrow cages,
Where one in mockery his long whip lashes,
The other, growling as when thunder rages,
Against the man’s throat murderously dashes,—
Where now the crafty, now the strong prevails,
Now man, now beast, against the flooring quails.
The animal rears,—the human on all fours!
One ice-cold look of dominance—The
beast submissive bows before that glance,
And the proud heel upon his neck adores.
Bad are the times! Ladies and gentlemen
Who once before my cage in thronging crescents
Crowded, now honor operas, and then
Ibsen, with their so highly valued presence.
My boarders here are so in want of fodder
That they reciprocally devour each other.
How well off at the theater is a player,
Sure of the meat upon his ribs, no matter
How terrible the hunger round his platter,
And colleagues’ inner cupboards yawning bare!—
But if to heights of art we would aspire,
We may not reckon merit by its hire.
What see you, whether in light or sombre plays?
House-animals, whose morals all must praise,
Who vent pale spites in vegetarian ways,
And revel in a singsong to-and-fro
Just like those others—in the seats below.
This hero has a head by one dram swirled;
That, is in doubt whether his love be right;
A third you hear despairing of the world,—
Full five acts long you hear him wail his plight,
And no man ends him with a merciful sleight!
But the real beast, the beautiful, wild beast,
Your eyes on that, I, ladies, only, feast!
You see the Tiger, that habitually
Devours whatever falls before his bound;
The Bear, who, gluttonous from the first sally,
Sinks at his late night-meal dead to the ground;
You see the Monkey, little and amusing,
From sheer ennui his petty powers abusing,—
He has some talent, of all greatness scant,
So, impudently, coquettes with his own want!
Upon my soul, within my tent and trammel—
See, right behind the curtain, here—’s a Camel!
And all my creatures fawn about my feet
When my revolver cracks—
[He shoots into the audience.]
Behold!
Brutes tremble all around me. I am cold:
The man stays cold,—you, with respect, to greet.
Walk in!—You hardly trust yourselves in here?—
Then very well, judge for yourselves! Each sphere
Has sent its crawling creatures to your telling:
Chameleons and serpents, crocodiles,
Dragons, and salamanders chasm-dwelling,—
I know, of course, you’re full of quiet smiles
And don’t believe a syllable I say.—
[He lifts the entrance-flap and calls into the tent.]
Hi, Charlie!—bring our Serpent just this way!
[A stage-hand with a big paunch carries out the actress of Lulu in her Pierrot costume, and sets her down before the animal-tamer.]
She was created to incite to sin,
To lure, seduce, corrupt, drop poison in,—
To murder, without being once suspected.
[Tickling Lulu’s chin.]
My pretty beast, only be unaffected,
Not vain, not artificial, not perverse,
Even if the critics therefore turn adverse.
Thou hast no right to spoil the shape most fitting,
Most true, of woman, with meows and spitting!
Nor with buffoonery and wry device
To foul the childish simpleness of Vice
Thou shouldst—to-day I speak emphatically—
Speak naturally and not unnaturally,
For the first principle, of earliest force
In every art, has been Be matter-of-course!
[To the public.]
There’s nothing special now to see in her,
But wait and watch what later will occur!
She coils about the Tiger stricter—stricter—
He roars and groans!—Who’ll be the final victor?—
Hop, Charlie, march! Carry her to her cage,
[The stage-hand picks up Lulu slantwise in his arms; the animal-tamer pats her on the hips.]
Sweet innocence—my dearest appanage!
[The stage-hand carries Lulu back into the tent.]
And now the best thing yet remains to say:
My poll between the teeth of a beast of prey!
Walk in! The show’s not new, yet every heart
Takes pleasure in it still! I’ll wrench apart
This wild beast’s jaws—I dare—and he’ll not dare
To close and bite! Let him be ne’er so fair,
So wild and brightly flecked, he feels respect
For my poor poll! I offer it him direct:
One joke, and my two temples crack!—but, lo,
The lightning of my eyes I will forego,
Staking my life against a joke! and throw
My whip, my weapons, down. I am in my skin!
I yield me to this beast!—His name do ye know?
—The honored public! that has just walked in!
[The animal-tamer steps back into the tent, accompanied by cymbals and kettledrums.]