Life Models
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Little shoes, the (Les petites chaussures)
- Notice
- Document associé
- Argument
| Titre | 2. Then high she raised her in the air |
|---|---|
| Fabricant | James Bamforth |
| Époque | Fin du XIXème siècle |
| Lieu de fabrication | Angleterre (Holmfirth, Yorkshire) |
| Description technique | life models, photographie rehaussée de couleurs, plaque carrée fixe |
| Dimensions | L. 82 mm l. 82 mm |
| Cote | PLM-00066-002 (Coll. Cinémathèque française) |
- The Little Shoes - Livret
- PART I
It was a wild December night,
The driving rain and sleet
Clung to the frozen window panes,
And soaked the plashy street.
Foot passengers with eager haste,
Went speeding on their way,
With thought of loving hearts at home,
And little ones at play.
With thought of bright and blazing fires,
And pleasant evening spent
In sociable companionship,
Or, harmless merriment.
Fast thro' the swinging gin-shop door,
A crowd kept huddling in,
To hide them from the dreary damp,
And warm themselves with gin.
The door kept swinging to and fro,
Without a stop or stay,
All knew they had a welcome there,
To pass the night away.
The mistress with a smiling face,
Fills up the ready glass,
And through her fingers constantly,
The Drinkers' pennies pass.
The curling smoke perfumed the place,
The guest were fairly set,
All disinclined to venture out,
To face the wind and wet.
The mistress saw them and their ease,
And called her serving maid,
To bring the darling of the house,
The little Adelaide.
Upon the counter by her side,
Was placed a pile of shoes
Of every hue, blue, red, and green,
From which to pick and choose.
To have a nice pair fitted well,
Upon her little feet,
The darling pet was kissed and placed
Upon the counter seat.
But no, she will not-she will scream,
She will not-she will kick,
She well knows how to get her way,
By many a pettish trick.
And long with bribes and coaxing words,
The baffled mother tries
To trap the little kicking feet,
And stop the stormy cries.
At last with flatteries more and more,
And scarlet shoes displayed,
A moment's pause is promptly seized
To shoe the little maid.
Then high she raised her in the air,
And all around could see
The little rebel's scarlet shoes,
Now kicking in her glee.
"Look, father, look at baby's shoes!
Look! at her pretty feet!
No little girl has shoes like these,
All up and down the street."
Just then, a man rose hastily,
And as he hurried past,
Upon the shining scarlet shoes,
A stricken look he cast.
"Will Turner! why away so soon ?"
The hostess blandly cried ;
A sullen and uncourteous grunt,
Was all the man replied.
The gin-shop door swung to and fro,
He breathed the chilly air,
And looked about, for well he knew,
His poor wife waited there.
Out on the door-step, wet and cold,
And dripping with the rain,
A weary woman, hour by hour,
Had stood and watched in vain.
A wailing infant in her arms,
She held with trembling grasp,
Its feeble hands had lost the power
The mother's neck to clasp.
She looked into her husband's face,
As if she would have said,
"Oh! William! do come home to-night,
And buy your child some bread."
No word he spoke- he caught the child,
And hurried down the street,
And as she followed, she could see
Him touch its naked feet.
She saw him hide them in his coat,
And then unloose his vest,
And button them with tender grasp
Close down upon his breast.
On, on, he strode with rapid step,
He held his head erect,
As though far off, he'd caught a glimpse
Of honest self-respect.
As if he'd heard the bells that rung
Upon his wedding day,
When she, who shuffled after him,
Was young, and blithe, and gay.
As if he meant to trample down,
And tear up by the root
That sin, that made him less than man,
And lower than the brute.
His thoughts were keener than the cold
Of that December night ;
But he has passed into a shop,
And they are lost to sight.
What is the next?-'tis hidden all,
The curtains is dropt down ;
And shall we see that man no more
In this thick-peopled town?
_________
PART II
It happened on a summer's eve,
There met in Temperance Hall,
A band of British working men,
Responding to call
To come and hear the victories
That Temperance had won,
How fast the noble cause had grown,
And what its friends had done.
With clapping hands and stamping feet,
Each advocate was hailed,
And not a single voice was raised,
To prove that Temperance failed.
The meeting drew towards the close,
But still the interest grew,
And people steadily sat on,
To hear of something new.
A working man sat near the door,
Young, handsome, and well dresses,
His animated countenance
Deep interest expressed.
Another workman sitting by,
Thus whispered in his ear,
"Will Turner, have you nought to tell,
Might do'em good to hear ?"
"There's many here, know what you were,
And what you once could do,
Come, stand up, man, and tell'em plain,
What made the change in you."
A buzz of voices cheered him on,
How could the man refuse ?
He rose at once, and stammered out
"It was the little shoes."
The people hushed up instantly,
At this uncommon text,
And sat with open mouths to catch
The words that followed next.
You might have heard the smallest pin
Drop down upon the floor,
So motionless the people sat,
Expecting something more.
The speaker felt that every eye
Was fixed upon him then;
"It was the little shoes," he said,
And then he paused again.
The younger people smiled to hear,
This twice-repeated news,
But when, once more, he stammered forth,
"It was the little shoes,"
A titter ran throughout the hall;
Will Turner heard the sound,
And in a moment stood erect,
And calmly looked around.
At bright light flashed into his eye,
He stood with steady foot,
And when he raised his voice once more,
Each auditor sat mute.
"Men, fathers, friends - it was in truth,
It was the little shoes ;
I've not the gift to make a speech,
This meeting to amuse.
"But I can tell a simple thing,
That happened once to me,
If you will kindly give me time,
And hear me patiently."
"Go on," said all, "and take your time,"
The chairman said "Proceed,"
And every one sat listening,
And gave attentive heed.
"It was a cold December night,
About six months ago,
That I became a sober man,
And I well tell you how.
I had a wife, I had a child ;
As sweet a child and wife
As ever God in mercy gave,
To cheer a poor man's life.
I had a home, as neat and trim
As her dear hands could make,
And all the trouble that she took,
Was for her husband's sake.
But U had got a love for drink,
The poor man's heaviest curse,
It daily gained a stronger hold,
And I grew daily worse.
I grew a beast, aye, worse that that,
I'd lost the power to think,
And I neglected my dear wife,
For that accursed drink,
I let her dress in shameful rags,
Who loved to dress so neat,
I even let her want for shoes,
To put upon her feet.
I let her watch our babe alone,
That sickened day by day,
Whilst, I, more cruel than a brute,
Spent all I earned away.
I let her stand out in the street,
There by gin-shop door,
I let her stand and wait for me,
And hear the drunkard's roar.
Now thing of that ! I blush to think,
The villain I have been,
That I could starve both wife and child,
And love them less than gin.
I never struck her - no, thank God,
From that crime I was free,
But I broke that dear woman's heart,
Who would have died for me.
I tore up every little flower,
Her love and hope had set,
Nor left a single bud to bloom,
Beneath her weary feet.
Oh! when I think of what I've done,
Of what she has endured,
And that she lives and loves me still,
And that my sin is cured !
I know 'twas God's most gracious love,
That would not let me sink,
Nor suffer me to drown my soul
In that accursed drink.
It was a simple little thing,
You might see any day,
And never stop to notice it,
Nor take a thought away.
But none the less, it struck on me,
Just like a flash of light,
As you may see a lightning flash
Shoot through the darkest night.
I've said 'twas in the winter time,
The snow was in the street,
I knew there was no fire at home,
Not yet a bit to eat.
I knew it - what was that to me ?
The drinking shop was warm,
There I could make myself at home,
Nor care about the storm.
A crowd of people filled the place,
Chink, chink, the money went,
And as it trickled in the till,
The mistress laughed content.
Well might she laugh while every glass
But added to her store,
And she was growing rich, as fast
As we were growing poor.
But 'wasn't that - she had a child,
About as old as mine,
But hers was loved and petted up,
While mine was left to pine.
She dressed it like a little queen,
In warm and handsome clothes,
And then I saw her fit it on
A air of scarlet shoes.
How proud they looked : how pleased she was,
That merry little thing !
the thought of my poor bare-foot child
Went tro' me like a sting.
I started up, I could not stop -
I had no will to choose,
I could not bear to see that child
In those new scarlet shoes.
Out on the door-step stood my wife,
Chilled to the very bone,
And in her trembling arm's she held
My shivering little one.
I caught it from her arms to mine,
I pressed it to my heart,
The touch of its small icy feet,
Struck through me like a dart.
I hid them underneath my coat,
And then within my vest,
And there they lay and wakened up
The father in my breast.
They lay, and thawed the ice away,
My heart began to beat
Like frozen limbs roused up to life,
By glow of sudden heat.
It was the hand of God that made
My hardened conscience smart,
It was the little icy feet
That walked into my heart.
My child, thank God, is rosy now,
My home is trim and neat,
My wife - there is not one like her,
All up and down the street.
May God bless her a thousand times,
Who bore so long with me,
If any doubt what I have said,
They're free to come and see.
My story's is done - if any here,
This warning will refuse,
May God rouse him as He roused me,
By these two little shoes."
Mary Sewell,The little shoes and other ballads, Londres, Jarrold & Sons, onzième édition.
Un soir de décembre, alors qu'il est dans un pub (plaque 1), un homme voit la tenancière porter un bébé dans ses bras (plaque 2). Cette vision le rappelle à la réalité, sa femme et son enfant du même âge sont dehors dans le froid et le dénuement (plaque 3). Il sort enfin du pub et décide désormais de s'occuper d'eux (plaque 4). Quelques temps plus tard, il se rend à une réunion anti-alcoolique et on lui demande alors d'expliquer ce qui lui a permit de retrouver le chemin de la sobriété (plaque 5). Il raconte alors comment alors qu'il était rongé par l'alcool, il laissait sa femme et son enfant dans le froid (répétition de la plaque 3), alors que lui restait bien au chaud à l'intérieur (répétition de la plaque 2). L'élément qui a tout déclenché chez lui fut de voir le bébé de la tenancière du pub, portant de belles petites chaussures, alors que lui buvait le moindre sou du ménage, laissant sa femme et son enfant dans la misère (répétition de la plaque 3). Il a alors décidé de réagir et de se détourner de l'alcool pour s'occuper des siens (répétition de la plaque 4) pour enfin leur offrir la meilleure vie possible (plaque 6).
