Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SHOES THAT DANCED, by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH Poet's Biography First Line: Blossoms perish in the snow Last Line: Even to destruction and to utter death. Subject(s): Dancing & Dancers; Paintings & Painters; Shoes; Watteau, Antoine (1684-1721); Boots; Sneakers; Shoemakers | ||||||||
SCENE: WATTEAU'S Studio. LANCRET, his pupil, works at a painting. WATTEAU'S portrait of the QUEEN, which has recently gained for him the appointment of Court Painter, occupies a prominent position. There is a burst of singing, a clamor of voices, and PIERRETTE and FAUSTINE, ballet dancers, accompanied by COURTIN, an artist, frolic into the studio. VOICES (singing outside) Blossoms perish in the snow Columbine won't kiss Pierrot.(Shouts) The New Academician! Court Favorite [Enter COURTIN with FAUSTINE and PIERRETTE] ALL (Singing) Blossoms floating in the wine, Harlequin loved Columbine COURTIN Watteau! FAUSTINE Where is Watteau? LANCRET He's out. PIERRETTE To-day? FAUSTINE Why, sir, to-day the queen comes to the studio To see her portrait! COURTIN (looking at WATTEAU'S portrait of the QUEEN) Oh, majestic Lady! With all her pride and beauty painted here As real as life. Insolent loveliness! And in her hands -- for woman's vanity -- Watteau has sketched the world! What she will have, That she will have, -- most arrogant of queens, That never knew denial. God himself Refuses her not anything at all Save lovely meekness. So in very truth This Lady has for hers the great round world To give or take. FAUSTINE To-day she only gives, And Watteau has the bounty. COURTIN (saluting the portrait) To the queen -- That rescued him from an oblivion Thick as Egyptian darkness. Yesterday He hired out to a confectioner And painted little Cupids upon bonbons -- PIERRETTE On bonbons! FAUSTINE Cupids! PIERRETTE Watteau's masterpieces! COURTIN To buy him bread. LANCRET Or painted -- Columbines! FAUSTINE (indignantly) The Columbine! PIERRETTE What is there in that creature That artists all pursue her! FAUSTINE (humming) Blossoms lead the April in! Columbine flounced Harlequin! COURTIN Now fortune changes, and in one brief day This portrait charms the eye of royalty, And makes Watteau the painter to the queen. FAUSTINE (in acclamation) Watteau! PIERRETTE (joyously) Court painter! COURTIN Lancret, you are silent. LANCRET I am at work. FAUSTINE On what, Monsieur Lancret? LANCRET I paint -- the queen. FAUSTINE Like great Watteau! COURTIN Disciple! You catch the master's spirit. LANCRET(morosely) No -- not yet! -- The dance, the dream, the fire, the poised music! [WATTEAU enters the studio, and joins the group unseen] If I could see his heart -- WATTEAU Look to your own. FAUSTINE Watteau! LANCRET The master! WATTEAU To your own, I say. And find perchance some spelling writ thereon By the hand of God. 'T will prove instructive, maybe, As aught of mine .LANCRET (pointing to WATTEAU'S portrait) Nay, master, I can never Accomplish -- that. WATTEAU True! Who in all the world Can paint such splendor? I am the one Watteau That Heaven has achieved. And yet -- poor humdrum! Thou art not what I dreamed! What is success? Since all our triumphs are but shadows at noon Whereby we measure failure. Let it be! I hate the work of my hands. I am not like God. I look upon it and do not find it good. LANCRET Not good! FAUSTINE (gazing at portrait) I beg of you, Monsieur Watteau, Paint me! PIERRETTE Yes -- make us beautiful, Watteau -- The little ballet dancers! FAUSTINE Oh, Watteau! Have you grown scornful now you go to court? PIERRETTE He only strives to please great ladies! FAUSTINE Called To deck the boudoir of the queen with Cupids PIERRETTE To charm her walls with fauns that dance! FAUSTINE To wreathe Her fan with roses! WATTEAU No. LANCRET To what then, master, Has the queen summoned great Watteau? WATTEAU My friend, The queen has bade me to the Sistine Chapel -- FAUSTINE Never! PIERRETTE For what? COURTIN What would she have you paint? WATTEAU A great Madonna. FAUSTINE You! PIERRETTE Watteau! COURTIN But man -- To paint -- Madonnas! WATTEAU Well -- COURTIN Who could have thought Watteau had dreamed of this! WATTEAU Yet I have dreamed! COURTIN But can you do it? WATTEAU (Producing from a box a pair of satin slippers, exquisitely painted, and banding one of them to COURTIN) Look! COURTIN But this is -- WATTEAU Shoes! FAUSTINE A lady's slipper! COURTIN Watteau turned shoemaker! PIERRETTE Blue satin! COURTIN For some foolish girl to dance in. LANCRET What craft! WATTEAU I painted Cupids round the edge. COURTIN But man -- LANCRET He 's mad. Let him alone. WATTEAU Why so? LANCRET These figures are perfect! WATTEAU That is what I thought. COURTIN It's worth a thousand francs! WATTEAU Indeed! COURTIN A thousand? It's worth a fortune! Show it to the queen, For what she covets that she surely buys. LANCRET The fineness of it! 'T is a masterpiece. COURTIN You can do all things! FAUSTINE Rosebuds -- butterflies -- And little Cupids round and round about. LANCRET How nonchalant he is! COURTIN Watteau, you fool -- Be all distraught with it! Roll a frenzied eye! Shout out, " I did it! " Be inebriate With the cup of glory. Stagger splendidly. Shout out, " I did it! "WATTEAU Have you seen the sole? LANCRET (turning shoe over) A Madonna! FAUSTINE Ah! COURTIN Watteau, this little shoe Is filled with fortune -- painted o'er with fame And immortality. WATTEAU You compliment me. LANCRET You were born for greatness. WATTEAU Yes. LANCRET (examining painting) But what a face! WATTEAU That is my dream, to fill the Sistine Chapel. COURTIN There's nothing out of reach. The crucifixion! Archangels! Ah -- but how that blazoned chapel Will roar with fiery wings! FAUSTINE Drawn on the sole! WATTEAU What would you? COURTIN Sketched upon a block of gold In lasting lineaments. Why, satin, man, Is a most fragile substance. WATTEAU So they say. PIERRETTE But one time round upon a polished floor Will ruin this splendor. WATTEAU That 's the beauty of it. PIERRETTE But a Madonna! COURTIN On a lady's slipper! WATTEAU To show that she for whom I made this shoe Owns all my craftsmanship! I painted them For Columbine to dance in -- LANCRET (jealously) Columbine! COURTIN (enthusiastically) The prettiest dancer in the whole ballet Rosebuds and Cupids, flower o' thistle down. [Enter COLUMBINE wrapped in a scarlet mantle] Most fragile, fine spun, silver, fitful, fair -- COLUMBINE I thank you, good Courtin! Come here, Pierrette. Take off my mantle. PIERRETTE I will not touch it. COLUMBINE How? She 's jealous! Faustine? (FAUSTINE makes a gesture of refusal. LANCRET and COURTIN assist in taking mantle) Thank you, gentlemen. (She shines resplendent in a ballet gown) I came between the acts of the rehearsal. The queen will be there when I dance to-night. Pray you, does anybody like my gown? COURTIN We all admire it. PIERRETTE Oh, I hate this girl! COLUMBINE She says she hates me! FAUSTINE This air stifles me. COLUMBINE I make her sick! The good Lord made me so. Is it naughty, then, to be so beautiful? Monsieur Watteau -- and have you any news? WATTEAU Look at this portrait.(Displays portrait of QUEEN holding in her hands the world) COLUMBINE Well? WATTEAU So slight a thing -- Yet it has brought me wealth, preferment, honor! And that great world I painted in her hands She gives to me. COLUMBINE What -- does she -- WATTEAU Listen, child. I am made Court Painter. COLUMBINE (as if startled) Oh, Monsieur Lancret! WATTEAU The queen has bade me to the Sistine Chapel To paint -- Madonnas. COLUMBINE(indifferently) But, Monsieur Watteau, Where are the slippers that you promised me To dance in? WATTEAU Child -- but hear me for a moment. This is the day when all my dreams come true, And Poverty no longer with a sword Bids Watteau back from that high Paradise Wherein are mighty deeds. My hour has come. Great barren walls that cry aloud for wings! How I will blazon them with the vast glories Of Heaven and Earth and Purgatory and Hell COLUMBINE Watteau! The painted slippers! WATTEAU Columbine, Just for a moment hear me -- and rejoice! Be glad for me. My dreams rush on like tempests Full of great sound and fire. Heaven calls me. Raphael says come, and Michael Angelo Thunders affection from St. Peter's Dome. The air is full of flaming robes of Titian, And pale sweet faces of Leonardo. Rembrandt Disturbs my slumber! All the mighty visions I have dreamed of so long, -- the wings, the haloes, -- And high above the altar, pale with glory, My great Madonna -- COLUMBINE Watteau -- my satin slippers. WATTEAU (putting them in her hands) Then take them. COLUMBINE Beautiful! WATTEAU Rosebuds and Cupids! COLUMBINE I 'II dance before the queen. COURTIN Nay -- on the sole Is sketched his masterpiece. COLUMBINE (examining sole) What -- WATTEAU The Madonna. COLUMBINE Painted for me! Oh! if the queen could see them How she would envy them -- the satin slippers, That are the ballet dancer's -- Columbine's.(Shouts are heard outside) VOICES (outside) Watteau! Watteau! Court Painter! [Boy runs in] BOY Sir, the guild Of Paris Artists, outside in the street -- VOICES (outside) Watteau! BOY Would honor you! VOICES Watteau! COURTIN (to WATTEAU) Out, then, And quiet them. [WATTEAU goes out with all but COLUMBINE and LANCRET, who remain in the studio] VOICES (outside) Watteau! COLUMBINE Monsieur Lancret, I will be frank with you, since time is brief. LANCRET(wearily) So frankness has a reason, Columbine? COLUMBINE But tease me not. This portrait rivals Watteau's. I could not tell the difference. LANCRET I have stolen, As a beggar steals a cloak to hide his rags, A purple garment for my shabby talent, The master's style. COLUMBINE Who can do, may do, Lancret. I want the world for you. LANCRET Frail Columbine -- Purchased with glories! COLUMBINE Glory I will have! And stars to drink from and the sky to dance on. Yes, shod with wind, this Columbine would dance, Dance, dance for centuries. Listen, Lancret, I die without my splendors. Lancret, listen. Do you desire me? LANCRET Child, what are you worth? COLUMBINE I love you, Lancret! LANCRET Love? COLUMBINE But I have labored To bring you fortune. Coaxed the great sad painter, That loves not women but loves Columbine, To teach you for my sake his mellow glories. How I have seen you learning day by day The master's powers and to this very end, That you should be -- hush! Longed to smile on you, Yet dared not, lest he see and understand. My protege I called you, A light boy Worth helping only -- a sort of studio spaniel I liked to keep about me. So I won His favor for you and the golden teachings Watteau sells at no price but gives to you To please -- the Columbine. Oh, I have dreamed Of honors, honors -- such as the world can give -- LANCRET And stolen from Watteau. COLUMBINE Listen, Lancret, At the opera all the dancers talk of you -- Lancret -- the new Apollo. At the court Mademoiselle Felise, who dresses hair, Tells me the boudoirs speak the name of Lancret Like a love spell. A wit, a beau, a gallant, Gay chevalier -- a genius too -- great Lancret! LANCRET I will not listen. COLUMBINE But to-day the queen Will come to see her portrait, and if then She chanced to look on yours -- LANCRET Beside Watteau's How pale it is! COLUMBINE But if the master's hand Coaxed by the Columbine should touch your portrait With divine magic -- often he has done so, To make his meaning clear of light and shadow -- And if the queen -- they tell me queens are fickle -- LANCRET Even like Columbine? COLUMBINE But if the queen Should see it -- then -- LANCRET I cannot listen. COLUMBINE Nay -- What if the master in a tempestuous mood Of black despair, such absolute distaste As takes him like a madness and undoes him And what he makes -- why, I have seen him bum A masterpiece one bargained for in vain, And he half starved, because he said it lacked Some light, some music, the angels told him what! You know the moods I mean. Well -- if Watteau In such a spirit -- LANCRET Hush! COLUMBINE Struck with his brush (Pointing to WATTEAU'S portrait of the QUEEN) Out, in one minute, that high and haughty smile, Out, all the insolent glory of her face -- LANCRET (with rebuke) He is my master. COLUMBINE (leaning over LANCRET'S portrait) If the queen's eye fell, Then, upon this, Lancret LANCRET Vainglorious child, Does splendor purchase you? [WATTEAU enters. COLUMBINE goes to him] COLUMBINE Lancret -- I pledge My hand to -- the Court Painter. WATTEAU Columbine, Is that a riddle? COLUMBINE No -- Monsieur Watteau. WATTEAU You love my office? COLUMBINE No -- Monsieur Watteau. (Draws him to LANCRET'S portrait of the QUEEN) Come! See this portrait. Let us criticize it And tease the artist for the golden manner He stole from you. The boy amuses me. He strives so hard to be Watteau. Come! come! Instruct my protege. WATTEAU Why should I do so? COLUMBINE Because I ask you. WATTEAU That is cause enough. Sound logic. COLUMBINE Oh, this little me! To think I am so small and powerful. I feel Big as a lion. Fear me, great Watteau. WATTEAU Well -- so I do. COLUMBINE But why? WATTEAU White magic! Spell Of little meaning that the wit denies And yet the heart believes. COLUMBINE How well you praise me. Put out your hand. How big! Now look at mine! Master, which hand is stronger? WATTEAU Columbine's. COLUMBINE Speak more such words. What would you? WATTEAU Your heart. COLUMBINE Why -- so 'T is but a bauble. WATTEAU I would die for it. COLUMBINE Would you, Watteau? Then teach this silly boy To learn his lesson. WATTEAU (curiously) Delilah? Oh, Delilah. COLUMBINE I am not .WATTEAU Ah? COLUMBINE Master, he is a truant Not swift at learning. I would have him learn. WATTEAU But if the pupil should outstrip the master -- So gracious, fine, fashioned so shapely, fair To please court ladies! LANCRET Master! COLUMBINE Oh, Watteau, Teach him. WATTEAU But why? COLUMBINE I love his sweetheart .WATTEAU True. That is the very sterling coin of speech. How could you spend it! COLUMBINE She dances next to me In the ballet. The one in scarlet slippers. Her name is Anastase. WATTEAU But wherefore lie? COLUMBINE I promised her to help him. WATTEAU Wherefore lie? Yet such explicit guile is almost truth It tells so on itself. COLUMBINE (pleading) Show him, Watteau. Look, it needs you. LANCRET Master! COLUMBINE Then I will love you. WATTEAU Sure? COLUMBINE Oh, I will! I 'II take the heart of me And put it in your hands. WATTEAU A sugar heart? With white doves painted on it? COLUMBINE No, no, no! A really, truly, really heart, Watteau. WATTEAU (to LANCRET) Lend me your oil. LANCRET Master, how you trust me. WATTEAU No, no! my son -- I love you well, but never Think that I trust you. COLUMBINE (holding oil for WATTEAU) The oil. WATTEAU (beginning work on LANCRET'S portrait) Now learn of me.(He scrutinizes the oil) Bah! But you keep it clean. LANCRET But WATTEAU My own oil Is full of dust; I clean it once a week. And bits of stick and hair and cobweb too I keep in it. Let moth and dust corrupt What's in this world. LANCRET But pardon me, Watteau, Your colors fade the sooner. WATTEAU That's why I do it. I advise that you do likewise.(He has altered the portrait) Look! COLUMBINE (in triumph) He has done it. WATTEAU That's all. But just a high light and a line. A little, little line. 'T was just that much That made the gulf on the Heaven side of Dives. By Monsieur Lancret -- portrait of the queen. As good as mine, I think. (Turning to his own) Ah -- how I loathe it! (He turns again to LANCRET'S portrait) I advise you, Lancret, place it where the queen May see it. LANCRET But -- WATTEAU It may advantage you. For if she favors it above Watteau's -- COLUMBINE Above your own, Watteau? (They stand before WATTEAU'S portrait) WATTEAU 'T is failure. COLUMBINE Yet The world would say success. WATTEAU Sweet Columbine -- The heart heeds not the applauding multitude But its own judgment. COLUMBINE Nay -- WATTEAU It sickens me. COLUMBINE (scheming) 'T is not your best. WATTEAU What? COLUMBINE In a conquering mood Think what you might achieve with such a face! Would I might see that portrait! WATTEAU I hate my work. (Is about to blot it out with his brush) I will destroy it, (LANCRET catches his arm) LANCRET No! COLUMBINE (passionately) Lancret LANCRET My child, Would you have had me? COLUMBINE Oh, fastidious workman! 'T is that fierce conscience I admire, master, That tries and burns the creatures of your brain. 'T was just such valiant acts of regal spendthrift That made me love you first. WATTEAU Child! COLUMBINE When I saw Kings could not bribe you -- who would never send A painting scourged by your own soul's reproach, To strut before an applauding public -- then I saw Watteau and loved him. WATTEAU Woman! Woman! Weave on. COLUMBINE Watteau, you know how I desire The world for you. Oh, win it royally With no concessions. I am shy of him That stoops to please -- a court. WATTEAU I see. I see. Oh, Columbine, you are a simple version Of a mysterious tale whose magic thought In words one syllabled is written large In a child's primer. COLUMBINE 'T was a god I loved. WATTEAU Or rather, the Court Painter .COLUMBINE Court Painter? No! I know him not. But Watteau, scornful, splendid, In rags, half famished, with the eyes that look Through, through -- till I feel helpless as the air, Transparent, simple -- WATTEAU Simple as the air, But yet -- how subtle! COLUMBINE Now you have grown precious Of work you value not. Like other men! How I should love you if with one bold stroke -- But men are cowards. Yet I would have you brave! Watteau -- I promise. If you lose it all, The Court, the favor, here is Columbine! Yours, yours! All yours! WATTEAU I will not take your promise. I have given you so much. Take back the word By my free gift that otherwise your hand Will filch from my soul's casket -- when all's done. Helplessly intricate! And yet so plain -- As complex things all are when once they are learned. You are not simple enough to evade my wit Even though 't is slow. I give you back your word, One truth -- in spite of you -- as one would give To a child a priceless gift he values not -- In case you should go up to it -- and bewail How little you have of honor. Now all's plain. And I 'II lose all, and you shall pledge your faith To the Court Painter. Lancret -- here's the brush. (Pointing to his own portrait) Now blot it out. LANCRET I will not. WATTEAU Columbine? COLUMBINE No! No! I dare not. WATTEAU What -- are you afraid? COLUMBINE Let only him destroy it who has made. WATTEAU Oh, Columbine! God made you for the truth You are so explicit. Wherefore weave and weave -- So obvious, so cunning! Ask me straight For the thing you want of me. Let 's have the truth. Give me but that. Just for a moment lay Your soul whole in my hands in a plain speech. Be just for once clear and articulate, Out of God's mouth as when he spoke you first, So I may hear your music. Say, "Watteau, I love this boy here, and I would have The world for him and me. The world, Watteau, That means so much to us and is to you -- Well -- treasure also. Pray you give it me." COLUMBINE You do mistake. I do not want the world. WATTEAU Why, then, you almost spoil my faith in God, Who, being perfect, let his hand go astray And spoiled you in the making. Was it so hard To fashion you more smoothly? Wherefore break us To such discredit? Maker of us all, We do beseech Thee for a perfectness. Oh, Architect of sighs, doubt, and disgust, Builder of broken bodies and of souls That bear the blemish of Thy hand, -- no, no, I will not think upon the bruised world, That like the serpent shines beneath Thy heel, Accursed and beautiful, afflicted, fair, Bright and vindictive. Rather will I set My hand to make perfection -- if I may. Be perfect as you are fair. Say, "Give it me." Come, speak the words! You will not, even so? How I desire this honor for you, child. Is it so hard? What, even as a gift Bought with no purchase money of your own But my own blood? COLUMBINE I pray you, give it me. (WATTEAU dashes out the face of the portrait with his brush) WATTEAU Vanitas vanitatum! Let it pass. [A PAGE enters] PAGE The queen. [QUEEN enters with her LADY-IN-WAITING] QUEEN Monsieur Watteau, I come at last To see my portrait. She pauses before LANCRET's painting) It is changed. WATTEAU Yes, madam. QUEEN How different! Yet -- I congratulate you. That touch! How full of you! THE LADY Your majesty, The likeness is most perfect. QUEEN Watteau? yourself? Does it give you pleasure, sir? WATTEAU It is well done. QUEEN That bold technique! A real Watteau! WATTEAU No, madam. QUEEN What do you mean? WATTEAU 'T was not my hand that did it. Lancret, a friend.(Points to his own painting) There, madam, is my portrait. A real Watteau. QUEEN What, sir, would you insult me? Blot out my likeness! LANCRET Madam, pardon me. He compliments you. To his fastidious taste It was not worthy of you. COLUMBINE Lancret! LANCRET Dear madam, Genius is whimsical. In its own ways It praises or dispraises. 'T was a dream -- Perfection -- took the breath with loveliness. Unheard of beauty! To his fastidious taste It was not worthy of you. QUEEN Watteau, Watteau! That was a savage compliment. But still -- Luxembourg waits for you. The Sistine Chapel Is restless for angels and the great Madonna I bid you paint there. WATTEAU (holding out the slippers) Madam, upon these I have drawn that great Madonna. QUEEN (taking the shoes) Satin slippers! What butterflies! THE LADY What wreaths! QUEEN What pretty Cupids. WATTEAU I painted a Madonna on the sole. (QUEEN turns them over) QUEEN A Madonna! 'T is a wonder. WATTEAU Madam -- I spent The dreams of many days and wakeful nights Upon that little shoe. QUEEN But this is spendthrift! One promenade upon a velvet carpet Would spoil the glory of it. WATTEAU Therefore, madam, I wrought them as they are. QUEEN They are just my size. WATTEAU The smallest shoe in the kingdom. QUEEN I 'II try them on. WATTEAU Pardon me, madam. QUEEN So -- THE LADY Monsieur is honored. May I suggest thrice blessed is that man That makes the queen a welcome gift? QUEEN And why? WATTEAU They are not meant for -- this. QUEEN I see! I see! (Reaching him her purse) Well, Monsieur Watteau -- was it meant for this? WATTEAU No, madam. QUEEN Nay -- but, man, 't is the queen's purse, With a thousand francs. WATTEAU About this little shoe Is the sweet savor of my midnight dreams. QUEEN I triple it. WATTEAU (holding shoe) Oh, perfect only thing That making I have loved, fragile and fair, I 'II keep you -- so. QUEEN But I will have it! Sir -- Five thousand francs. WATTEAU (fondling shoes) Sweet dream. QUEEN Then twenty thousand! WATTEAU I hear the Cupids play their little harps. QUEEN Is this another compliment, Watteau? It savors of insult, like the other. Nay -- A fortune! Name your price! WATTEAU Never -- though I Am hounded with debts clean to the very door Of the debtor's prison. QUEEN Oh, I hate this man! Give me the shoe. I say -- the shoe I'll have. A title -- would you? Why -- do you not know What 't is to raise the enmity of queens? Down, down, you dog! And lick my hand! A duke, This will I make you. WATTEAU (with a smile) Ah? QUEEN Does he not hear? Sir -- I command you. What, would you be hanged? I 'II move the powers of Heaven and Earth and Hell To get these slippers. What I want, I 'II have. You will not take rewards? Then I will strike. I banish you from court. Our doors in vain Shall plead for the wings of angels. Not a dream Of Watteau's shall come true about the walls Of the Sistine Chapel. Go and face despair, Hunger and cold, imprisonment, disaster, Even as of old before I favored you, Dependent! Slave! That shall be scourged indeed By my own hand! Do you deny your queen? Sell me the shoes -- or I will ruin you! WATTEAU You cannot pay their price! QUEEN I cannot? What? Have I not coffers of gold, rich diadems, Worth a king's ransom, fit to buy my whims? Is France so poor? WATTEAU Ah, Lady, give me then That gold whereof the streets of Heaven are made, On which the steps of angels fall as sweet As silver rain over a shining air, You cannot buy from me these shoes, Oh, Queen! France is so poor. QUEEN Ah, now, I see! I see! Artist -- and poet! Such folk must be paid In magic coin. You are intricate With your strange courtesies of finer worlds. Forgive me, sir, that am but a Queen on Earth -- That small and vulgar province in Great Space. I am not skilled to the urbanities Of starry cities -- the great gracious ways Of the far capitals of noble thought. Pardon the rustic and her bourgeoisie! She will learn manners. I am rich, Monsieur -- And I will pay, but in more subtle-wise Than gold or titles. I will give a treasure Great Kings sigh for in vain. I pray you, sir, Sell me the shoes -- and I will pay -- a kiss. WATTEAU That, gracious lady, is too much to pay. I cannot tell my Lord, on the Day of Judgment, That I have stolen their treasure from Great Kings .QUEEN Why, man -- I am the queen! WATTEAU And I -- Watteau. QUEEN So. Then I will be mild. I have behaved Like a child that cried for a star. Is it so high? But you can give it, like the god you are. I will not barter. I will beg. Monsieur -- Give me the shoes. COLUMBINE Watteau -- give me the shoes. WATTEAU Oh, Columbine, so spun of sorceries You could not trust me, even at the end, But needs must win by guile what I would give Ah, child -- how fair you are! Take them.(Giving her the shoes) Thereon Has breathed my soul. It is my masterpiece. COLUMBINE I 'II try them on.(Putting one on) Oh, see my darling foot LANCRET Watteau -- oh, master! WATTEAU She is of little worth. And yet -- Lancret -- we needs must love her. So? COLUMBINE (with both shoes on) Ha -- ah! I'm Columbine! But these are shoes In which to run. My feet feel happy in them. WATTEAU They are full of thoughts of you. COLUMBINE I feel like flying. WATTEAU The wings of the butterflies wrought in the satin Will bear you up. COLUMBINE Oh, how I want to dance! WATTEAU You feel the tunes the little cherubs play Upon their harps. Hush - somebody is crying! It is the tears of Watteau's lost Madonna. COURTIN He's mad! COLUMBINE (dancing and singing) Blossoms floating in the wine! Every one loves Columbine! WATTEAU Dance! Dance! QUEEN Lancret, come to the court to-morrow. I make you Painter to the Queen. COLUMBINE (victoriously) Lancret! QUEEN Monsieur Watteau, I bid you an adieu. (She and her Lady sweep to the door) I go from your door. But when I go, monsieur, Hunger and Desolation and Despair Shall enter in. I pray you, see this man, Who better loves a foolish Columbine Than a Madonna! When the centuries Shall loose their tongues on him, their speech shall be Monsieur Watteau, great Painter and great Fool. (She goes out with her Lady) COLUMBINE (in LANCRET's arms) But oh, Lancret, Lancret! WATTEAU Dance, Columbine. Upon those little satin shoes are painted What made night perfect and on a barren day Shed light. Dance, dance, as Judith danced of old With the head of Holofernes. (COLUMBINE dances and sings) COLUMBINE Blossoms perish in the snow. Columbine won't kiss Pierrot! (Her dance increases in wildness. Her skirts glitter around her) WATTEAU Oh, whither? Immortality and Fame, Fortune and High Endeavor sketched thereon COLUMBINE (singing) Blossoms fade and we forget, She was fairer than Pierrette! WATTEAU Whither? ye flowering wreaths and little Cupids, That play through satin all your subtle tunes? Oh, whither? roses! whither? butterflies! Dance - dance! (COLUMBINE sings and dances) COLUMBINE Blossoms lead the April in, Columbine flounced Harlequin. WATTEAU Whither? oh, heart of Watteau, wrought among The blossoming wreaths and all ye precious, dreams That made it golden! Rushing of vague wings, Haloes and tears of Mary -- all of these That shone in it so long. Dance! COLUMBINE (faltering) I am tired! And -- oh, Watteau! WATTEAU Dance! dance! I bid you dance! (She dances again, more passionately than ever) Forever and forever! Virgin Mary! -- Dance! dance! Convey my visions to the dust. Efface my dreams in darkness. Oh, the mad whirl In which they all go out! Dance them away -- Even to destruction and to utter death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BROKEN SANDAL by DENISE LEVERTOV FOR AL-TAYIB SALIH by KHALED MATTAWA SNEAKERS by E. ETHELBERT MILLER BLACK NIKES by HARRYETTE MULLEN THE FURY OF OVERSHOES by ANNE SEXTON SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 2. HER HANDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |
|