THE SAD CIRCUS

Waipawa Mail, Volume L, Issue 43, 28 December 1928, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE SAD CIRCUS

We have just seen what I think must be the saddest circus on the roads. Certainly it is the saddest I ever saw, and I suppose a sad circus is a thing hard to beat in this sad world for sheer sadness.

It arrived, as other circuses do in this rather out-of-the-way “almostisland” of South Brittany, with & flourish of trumpets, and the children of our party (there are nine of them under twelve) begged one and all to go. The battcreil-looking lousy old motor-car of uncertain make passed slowly along the sea-front with four men inside, thin and shabbily-dressed (one of them with a black band round his arm) blowing dispiritedly upon biass instruments. Later in the day two strong-looking horses (released from thc work of hauling the tent along the Breton coast during tho night) appeared harnessed to a vehiclo resembling a shabby hearse. An emaciated man with a huge moustache, wearing a faded red flannel jacket, was driving. A pale man with a red nose tooted a mournful solo upon tho liombonc behind. There were none of the usual attractions in the way of monkeys or dwarfs, pretty ladies, or even knowing-looking mongrels. Yet a circus is u circus, and the children were fascinated and clamorous. Wo inspected the tent which had been erected in the town square. It was small and our town happened to bo en fete. The programme was advertised to open at eight-thirty, which meant nine o’clock with luck. Wc promised the children seine other treat some other day instead and packed them off to their beds. But when the time came after supper tW us grown-ups to stroll through the lamp lighted tree-encircled square in search of a buvette where we could drink our coffee in peace the sight of the tent Was too much for us. Thc sound of it, too, no doubt. For, after ail a circus is a circus all the world over, and a really small, really travel* ling circus is more of a circus than any Wber kind. We reproached each other, with our childishness and also with what we felt to be a betrayal of our Iwn children. What would they say if they discovered we had been and gone without them? Wc decided never to let them find out. Association is strong. As we entered the little sea-green tent with its lovely braced and drooping lines, and smelt the ring, saw the circle of naphtha lighted faces eager for laughter, and watched the worn carpet being unrolled for the tumblers we were caught bv the old charm. What the sleeping children were missing! Two clowns came on with their back-chat, which they turned out in wheezy, hurdyOne (easily recognised by his moustache anil flannel bedjacket) was the driver of the hearse. The other was tho red-nosed tromboneplayer. The latter was telling the former how pleased he was that a lion had devoured his mother-in-law. Presently they went off, and the red-nosed one, seemed to be the animal trainer, returned with two geese. With a whip he made the geese run round the ring. They ran round and round, sometimes stretching out their wings in their anxiety to avoid the whip. Barriers of wood, half a foot high, were put up at intervals. Tho red* nosed man shouted and flourished his whip. Tho peese. after a slight pause, stepped over the barriers. Thy did not fly or jump. They merely stepped lumboringly over as geese upon a common would cross a piece of wood lying i* their way The man who had worn tho mourning band was a good acrobat, but he was surely the most melancholy of God’s creatures. His face was drawn, grey, obviously suffering. He looked ill ns well as bereaved. Not to weep one lad to avert one’s eyes. Of the two women trapezists only the younger even attempted a set smile. The elder, her cheeks deeply lined, her eye» hopeless, missed the bar once and made an awkward descent. I shall not soon forget her gesture of despair nor tho expression of tho red-nosed man '1 mouth as he tried to turn her miss into a joko. The chief thing about the performing mule was that it was continually trying to kick the red-nosed man and pitting n cut with the whip for doing ; o. nly wo decided that we had had i ur sixpennvworth and left. It was too late for coffee so we went sadly home to bed. While wc slept the red * * »d men and the man in thc flannel rocket the acrobat, and the two trar»oz‘ ds were dismantling the tent, digging up the heavy posts, packing everything into the hearse and the lous - motor car to take the road again. Next day T heard one of our circusgoing party talking to a still resentful child. “T assure you didn’t miss anything,” she was saying. ”It was a very poor show and not a bit funny.” The answer came quickly, “How do you know?” It was a situation that needed saving, so I interposed quickly. “Why. we had a peep at ’t from under the tent-flap and we decided that it certainly wasn’t worth goin" to.” To avoid arousing further suspicions I refrained from adding, “Tt wag not a circus at all but a I’ttlc tra'-oHing hell upon earth.” But that is whrt I really think. (C.C in the Manchester Guardian.)