Summary

The narrative recounts the life of Emilija Ulmanis, a circus performer known for her daring tightrope walks, and the tragic fate of her sister Iveta, who fell to her death during a performance, impacting their family's legacy.

Abstract

Set in the world of the Ukraine State Circus, the story centers on Emilija Ulmanis, a young tightrope walker who performs without a net, and her sister Iveta, a trapeze artist. Emilija's talent and fame bring attention from important figures, including party officials, which fuels their father's ambition to take the act to the West. However, their father, Gregor Ulmanis, favors Iveta and believes she should be the star, despite her fear of the wire. On the night Iveta is to replace Emilija on the tightrope, she falls to her death, an event that devastates the family and leads to their mother's fierce rebuke of their father's ambition. The story concludes with the elderly Emilija reflecting on the past, her family's history, and the enduring memory of her sister.

Opinions

The narrator suggests that Emilija's talent was natural and that she was the true star of the Ulmanis family, despite her father's preference for Iveta.
Gregor Ulmanis's ambition is portrayed as a driving force behind the family's success but also as a contributing factor to the tragedy that befalls them.
The mother's protective instincts and grief are evident in her reaction to Iveta's accident, blaming her husband's ambition for the loss of their child.
The community of circus performers is depicted as a close-knit group, with references to other performers like Madame Zosimov and old Petrov the clown.
The story reflects on the idea that the pursuit of fame and the pressure to perform can have severe consequences, particularly in the context of a family dynamic.

The Authentic Eclectic

The Feet That Walked in the Air

Wilhelm Simmler (1840–1914), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The old lady at number seventeen whom none of the neighbours claim to know sits in a patch of afternoon sunlight, her eyes closed.

‘…fore.’

Not sleeping but watching that floating syllable.

For seventy years she has watched that floating syllable.

In their red tartan slippers her feet remember- Mama rubbing cream into them every night to keep the skin supple; they can still feel the bone-deep impression of the wire. The body adjusts its posture, upright and in perfect balance with a single point of focus, in response. The toes curl, stretch and remember when “they called us The Feet That Walked in the AIr.”

In the sideboard Mama’s scrapbooks, keepers of the family history, identify the quote at once. ‘That was after the performance in Kiev when your star shone so bright your name was even mentioned in Moscow.’

But that was not how Papa thought it should be.

On the little cabinet in the corner grandmother’s samovar emits Mama’s patient sigh. Her only form of complaint until …

‘You! D’you hear me? You, not your sister.’ Gregor Ulmanis thundered at his trembling fourteen year old daughter and she answered him as she always did. ‘Yes, Papa.’

Emilija sidled close and took her sister’s hand.

‘I can’t! I’m terrified.’

‘Hush, Iveta, he might hear you. Come away.’

They spoke in whispers but Emilija never took her eyes off Papa’s back.

Tickets for the opening night of the Ukraine State Circus were selling fast. The main attraction was The Little Ulmanis, who first walked the wire when she was twelve years old.

Now Emilija was sixteen and walked without a net. Up there was another world, nothing but her and the wire. The terrified, expectant hush that fell over the audience rose like a mist and became the net, under, around, over them, as she crossed foot before foot before foot.

The papers wrote things praising her, important people including party officials wanted to meet her. The Ulmanis troupe were trapeze artists and tightrope walkers for five generations. She, The Little Ulmanis, had made them famous.

Papa was not pleased.

Ducking under ropes, avoiding swinging hammers, exercising elephants and old Petrov the clown who liked to tickle, accepting cherries from Madame Zosimov, the bareback rider whom every man in the circus was in love with, Papa included, the two girls made their way to the back of the big tent.

Gentle, tractable, Iveta. Papa’s favourite. Papa thought she should be the one the papers wrote about, she should be the one to meet the party officials who could further his dream of being allowed to take the act to the West, her not rebellious, argumentative Emilija. Iveta was a trapeze artist but tonight she would walk the wire.

“Watch me now, see how I do it. Foot before foot before…’

‘Oh, anyone can do that on the ground, but up there…’

‘It’s just as easy if you never pause and never look down. Only ever look at the end of the wire, it is waiting for you so just walk toward it and never think about any other thing’

‘I can’t!’

‘But you have when we practiced.’

‘But then you were at the far end waiting for me. Will you come up and wait for me tonight?’

‘Of course, I will.’

There was a silence and then one said what both were thinking:

‘If Papa will allow it.’

‘She doesn’t need you up there. She’s an Ulmanis, the wire is in her blood.’

So Emilija had to watch from as close as Papa would allow her to go.

‘Foot before foot before foot.’ She willed the words to reach Iveta. ‘Foot before foot before…no, don’t pause, keep walking, foot before foot be…’

The unspoken syllable hovered in the air meeting her sister as she fell.

Mama’s only complaint until, cradling Iveka in her arms, she turned on her husband with uncharacteristic fury.

‘Your ambition and your stubbornness have taken one of my children from me. You shan’t have the other. Emilija’s feet walk only on the ground from now on ‘

A single tear on the old lady’s cheek touched by the late afternoon sun is like the crystal drop of a chandelier.