wearing a gorgeous diamond necklace and you wish it to catch the light as you move.
Oui—c’est ça
—that’s it!
Parfait! Très charmante
.”
Mastering the quadrille was much more difficult because there were so many variations on the dance for four couples. An archduchess of Austria could not dance with the servants, so my siblings were pressed into service as I was drilled in my maneuvers like an infantryman. My head became so stuffed with the names of dance steps that at night I would dream of the Chaîne des Fleurs, the Moulinet, the Passé-Passé, the Boulangère, and the Corbeille. The Basket, the Baker, the Reel, the Daisy Chain—I would awaken with a start, my heart beating wildly and my underarms moist with perspiration, having dreamt that I executed the Moulinet in the middle of a
bal à Versailles
when everyone else was doing the Boulangère.
The quadrille, the gavotte, and the minuet were performed at every European court, although at Versailles, particular attention was given to their execution. But I soon learned that at the court of Louis XV the manner in which one
walked
was as important as the way one danced. As a matter of etiquette, it was absolutely vital that I master a way of moving from room to room known asthe “Versailles Glide,” which had been performed since the time of the Sun King. Not only was I expected to perfect this unique skill, but since the death on June 24 of Queen Marie Leszczyńska, I, as dauphine, would have the rank of first woman in France unless Louis remarried. Consequently, as with my dancing, I would naturally wish to ensure that
my
glide exceeded that of all the other ladies at court in grace and beauty.
Only
women
glided, but in order to properly instruct me, the dancing master would have to don the aptly named
grand panier
—a large basket—as well. These ridiculously wide underpinnings, very similar to the farthingales worn by women of a bygone era, such as England’s Queen Elizabeth, were long out of fashion in Vienna; but at Versailles, Monsieur Noverre assured me, the women still wore
les grands paniers
when full court dress was required. And so, with all due haste, a team of servants was dispatched to the royal wardrobe to locate two of the outmoded cages.
Meanwhile, Monsieur Noverre had somehow managed to locate a pull toy—a yoked team of little wooden horses that had once belonged to Maxl, but had long ago been given to the grandson of Frau Schwab, the little hunchbacked woman who emptied the ashes from our stoves. “
Regardez les chevaux, madame l’archiduchesse
. Watch the horses,” said the ballet master. He grasped the string between his thumb and forefinger and drew the toy across the floor. “What do you notice about them?” he asked me.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to see. “What
should
I notice?”
“How the horses move.”
“But they don’t,” I insisted. “They’re on wheels.”
“Aha!” Monsieur Noverre triumphantly brandished his lorgnette. “
Exactement!
” He approached me, dragging the toy behindhim. “And if
you
perform the Versailles Glide properly, you, too, will appear to be on wheels.”
“Like this?” With tremendous enthusiasm I began to execute little
chasées
about the room. I resembled horses all right, but not the ones on the string. The effect I produced was far more gallop than glide. And I nearly kicked off my shoes. The backless slippers with their two-inch court heel, or—as it was known at Versailles, the “Louis” heel—were difficult enough to keep on one’s feet without the added challenge of gliding in them as if they were the runners of a sledge.
“Not quite.” The ballet master chuckled, amused at my energetic effort. “Would you like me to demonstrate, or would
madame l’archiduchesse
prefer to figure it out on her own?”
Duly chastened, I admitted that perhaps I might learn the movement more quickly if I paid attention to his lesson rather than endeavoring to guess,
Oui—c’est ça
—that’s it!
Parfait! Très charmante
.”
Mastering the quadrille was much more difficult because there were so many variations on the dance for four couples. An archduchess of Austria could not dance with the servants, so my siblings were pressed into service as I was drilled in my maneuvers like an infantryman. My head became so stuffed with the names of dance steps that at night I would dream of the Chaîne des Fleurs, the Moulinet, the Passé-Passé, the Boulangère, and the Corbeille. The Basket, the Baker, the Reel, the Daisy Chain—I would awaken with a start, my heart beating wildly and my underarms moist with perspiration, having dreamt that I executed the Moulinet in the middle of a
bal à Versailles
when everyone else was doing the Boulangère.
The quadrille, the gavotte, and the minuet were performed at every European court, although at Versailles, particular attention was given to their execution. But I soon learned that at the court of Louis XV the manner in which one
walked
was as important as the way one danced. As a matter of etiquette, it was absolutely vital that I master a way of moving from room to room known asthe “Versailles Glide,” which had been performed since the time of the Sun King. Not only was I expected to perfect this unique skill, but since the death on June 24 of Queen Marie Leszczyńska, I, as dauphine, would have the rank of first woman in France unless Louis remarried. Consequently, as with my dancing, I would naturally wish to ensure that
my
glide exceeded that of all the other ladies at court in grace and beauty.
Only
women
glided, but in order to properly instruct me, the dancing master would have to don the aptly named
grand panier
—a large basket—as well. These ridiculously wide underpinnings, very similar to the farthingales worn by women of a bygone era, such as England’s Queen Elizabeth, were long out of fashion in Vienna; but at Versailles, Monsieur Noverre assured me, the women still wore
les grands paniers
when full court dress was required. And so, with all due haste, a team of servants was dispatched to the royal wardrobe to locate two of the outmoded cages.
Meanwhile, Monsieur Noverre had somehow managed to locate a pull toy—a yoked team of little wooden horses that had once belonged to Maxl, but had long ago been given to the grandson of Frau Schwab, the little hunchbacked woman who emptied the ashes from our stoves. “
Regardez les chevaux, madame l’archiduchesse
. Watch the horses,” said the ballet master. He grasped the string between his thumb and forefinger and drew the toy across the floor. “What do you notice about them?” he asked me.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to see. “What
should
I notice?”
“How the horses move.”
“But they don’t,” I insisted. “They’re on wheels.”
“Aha!” Monsieur Noverre triumphantly brandished his lorgnette. “
Exactement!
” He approached me, dragging the toy behindhim. “And if
you
perform the Versailles Glide properly, you, too, will appear to be on wheels.”
“Like this?” With tremendous enthusiasm I began to execute little
chasées
about the room. I resembled horses all right, but not the ones on the string. The effect I produced was far more gallop than glide. And I nearly kicked off my shoes. The backless slippers with their two-inch court heel, or—as it was known at Versailles, the “Louis” heel—were difficult enough to keep on one’s feet without the added challenge of gliding in them as if they were the runners of a sledge.
“Not quite.” The ballet master chuckled, amused at my energetic effort. “Would you like me to demonstrate, or would
madame l’archiduchesse
prefer to figure it out on her own?”
Duly chastened, I admitted that perhaps I might learn the movement more quickly if I paid attention to his lesson rather than endeavoring to guess,
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