The Black Clown: The Mood

A gay and
low-down blues.
Comic entrance
like the clowns
in the circus.
Humorous
defiance.
Melancholy
jazz. Then
defiance again
followed by
loud joy.

A burst of
music. Strutting
and dancing.
Then sudden
sadness again.
Back bent as
in the fields.
The slow step.
The bowed head.
“Nobody knows
de trouble I’ve
had.”
Flinching
under the whip.
The spiritual
syncopated.
Determined to
laugh.
A bugle call.
Gay, martial
music. Walking
proudly, almost
prancing.
But gradually
subdued to a
slow, heavy
pace. “Some-
times I feel
like a mother-
less chile.”
Turning futilely
from one side
to the other.
But now a harsh
and bitter note
creeps into
the music.
Over-burdened.
Backing away
angrily.
Frantic
with
humiliation
and helpless-
ness.
The music
is like
a mourn-
ful tom-tom
in the dark!
But out of
sadness
it rises to
defiance
and determina-
tion. A hymn
of faith
echoes the
fighting
“Marseillaise.”
Tearing off
his clown’s
suit, throwing
down the hat
of a fool,
and standing
forth,
straight
and strong,
in the clothes
of a modern
man, he proclaims
himself.