Today, there are no panthers such as the one observed by Rilke, in the Ménagerie. The largest beasts which had drawn in such crowds from the institution's creation in the 18th century - elephants, girafes, bears, hippopotami, rhinoceros, and of course, the big cats, to name but a few - have slowly been rehoused since the latter part of the 20th century. Zoos better able to meet the needs of these animals could thus satisfy the demands for a more humane approach to their confinement and well-being therein.
Nevertheless, smaller species of the panthera family still remain. And so it is that the snow leopard and the clouded leopard continue to haunt their enclosures, pacing continually. The exotic forms of these creatures ever sweep past a captive audience; we captors.Their soft padding movement, up and down, literally flattens a path that traces their motion, their automation only interrupted when the odd movement in a nearby enclosure catches their attention.
In a flash of feline energy, the animal instinct, dulled but never deadened, surges and the beast is transformed into its ancestral self; panthera - 'predator of all animals'.
|Façade from art-déco Fauverie - 1937 - René Berger
"they registered what went on about them without active attention, and with profound
indifference. They neither conveyed nor felt the feeling of life; they were as insubstantial
as ghosts, and as passive as zombies."
The scene below, from the film based on the book, Awakenings, even refers back to Rilke's Panther.
Unlike the other members of the Panthera family, the snow leopard cannot roar, and so it is literally silent in its confinement, unable to give voice to its existence.
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
Rainer Maria Rilke (translation Stephen Mitchell)