Driving his horse with jolting steps, Golo, flush with a frightful plan, set forth from the little triangle of forest that spread like deep green velvet on the slope of a hill, and advanced by leaps toward the castle of poor Geneviève de Brabant. This castle was cut off by a curving line that was none other than the edge of an oval of glass lodged in the frame slid between slots on the lantern. It was only a section of castle, and before it lay a land where Geneviève, in her blue belt, dreamed. The castle and the land were both yellow, and I didn’t need to wait to see them to know their color, since before the slides appeared, the burnished gold sound of the name Brabant had shown me this shade with certainty. Golo would halt a moment to listen wistfully to the tale read aloud by my great aunt, and he seemed to understand it perfectly, matching his position, with a docility that did not exclude a certain majesty, to the indications of the text; then he’d travel on with the same jolting steps. And nothing could stop his interminable ride. If the lantern was moved, I could make out Golo’s horse continuing to advance on the curtains at the window, bulging on their pleats, receding in their folds. The body of Golo himself, its essence supernatural as that of his mount, overcame each material obstacle, each bothersome object encountered, taking it as bonework and incorporating it, for instance the doorknob, to which he’d quickly adapt himself and on it invincibly float his red robe or his pale face, which, ever noble and quite melancholic, never appeared at all troubled by this transvertebration.
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Au pas saccadé de son cheval, Golo, plein d’un affreux dessein, sortait de la petite forêt triangulaire qui veloutait d’un vert sombre la pente d’une colline, et s’avançait en tressautant vers le château de la pauvre Geneviève de Brabant. Ce château était coupé selon une ligne courbe qui n’était autre que la limite d’un des ovales de verre ménagés dans le châssis qu’on glissait entre les coulisses de la lanterne. Ce n’était qu’un pan de château et il avait devant lui une lande où rêvait Geneviève qui portait une ceinture bleue. Le château et la lande étaient jaunes et je n’avais pas attendu de les voir pour connaître leur couleur car, avant les verres du châssis, la sonorité mordorée du nom de Brabant me l’avait montrée avec évidence. Golo s’arrêtait un instant pour écouter avec tristesse le boniment lu à haute voix par ma grand’tante et qu’il avait l’air de comprendre parfaitement, conformant son attitude avec une docilité qui n’excluait pas une certaine majesté, aux indications du texte; puis il s’éloignait du même pas saccadé. Et rien ne pouvait arrêter sa lente chevauchée. Si on bougeait la lanterne, je distinguais le cheval de Golo qui continuait à s’avancer sur les rideaux de la fenêtre, se bombant de leurs plis, descendant dans leurs fentes. Le corps de Golo lui-même, d’une essence aussi surnaturelle que celui de sa monture, s’arrangeait de tout obstacle matériel, de tout objet gênant qu’il rencontrait en le prenant comme ossature et en se le rendant intérieur, fût-ce le bouton de la porte sur lequel s’adaptait aussitôt et surnageait invinciblement sa robe rouge ou sa figure pâle toujours aussi noble et aussi mélancolique, mais qui ne laissait paraître aucun trouble de cette transvertébration.
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N o t e s
Jolting steps. In French, pas saccadé. The term saccade came to English from French, “derived from the Old French sachier, meaning ‘to shake.’ In horse riding, a saccade is the brusque shaking given to the reins of a horse as a signal to the horse.” In English, though, the word seems limited to describing quick, jerking eye movements.
Golo and Geneviève de Brabant. The story of Geneviève de Brabant is a medieval tale of an innocent wife falsely accused of infidelity, by the majordomo Golo. In some versions of the story, she lived with her child in a cave for six years until her name was cleared. The story was adapted in many countries and art forms. Incidental music by Erik Satie, unpublished and unproduced in his lifetime, for a theatrical presentation of Geneviève de Brabant can be heard here. I find the rhythm of the piece fits Proust’s writing well.
Proust and Satie were close contemporaries and both lived in Paris. This podcast discusses the omission of Satie from Proust’s writing. In Sodom and Gomorrah, volume 4 of In Search of Lost Time, Proust had included a reference to Satie but later removed it before publication.
Blue belt. The medieval French word for belt was ceinture, and ceinture remains current. But in medieval English, Geneviève’s belt might have been called a girdle, which is the word Scott Moncrieff chose. Even though girdle has some special, magical meanings, I’ve gone with the simple “belt” because it offers both music and image.
As a complication, there are images online of what could have been the actual magic lantern slides Proust saw, including the slides currently displayed in the lantern at Proust’s great aunt’s house in Illiers-Combray. I don’t see a belt/girdle in any of them.
Bulging in their pleats, receding in their folds. I’ve found no source that applies different terms to the crest and valley of a pleat or fold. Proust seems to call the the top or outward part “pleat” and the bottom or inward part “fold.”
Bonework. The French word here, ossature, can mean (1) skeleton, (2) backbone, and (3) framework. (More common words for those three could be la squelette; l’épine or la colonne vertébrale; and maybe armature.) I’m risking the rare word bonework because it encompasses all three meanings.
Red robe. Proust says robe, but I’m still not entirely sure what garment he’s referring to. Possibly a tunic or a surcoat.
Transvertebration. This word was invented by Proust to describe Golo’s transformation according to whatever object served as his bones.