The Year of Reading Proust discussion

This thread is for the discussion that will take place through Sunday, 3 Nov. of The Fugitive, to page 783 (to the paragraph beginning: “A month later, the Swann girl...”)

Coming to this passage in which the Narrator, again, meditates upon immortality achieved by the deposition of archives and records of voices of Opera singers....

..comme ces exemplaires déposés à la Bibliothèque Nationale permettent de connaître un ouvrage qui serait détruit, comme ces disques devant lesquels un grand artiste a chanté, qu'on enterre dans la cave de l'Opera, et qui quand le virtuose est mort, se remettent à chanter acec cette voix qu'on croyait morte à jamais. p. 192.

I remember the video of Ruskin that Marcelita posted in last weeks reading, in # 84

http://www.pinterest.com/pin/26099774...


And I wonder what would Proust have thought of this?

The passage on the two paintings by Elstir on female nudes bathing in a forest, irremediably brought to my memory the whole series of Bathers by Cézanne. They are from around 1906


..dans un paysage touffu il y a des femmes nues.. p. 187











and in this one, look at the one on the right, with the bent knee.

.. Je me rappelais maintenant que la levée de la cuisse y faisait le même méandre de cou de cygne avec l'angle du genou.

We also have some Renoirs that could come to mind.

And of course, the "coup de cygne" and Albertine's leg is a reference to the myth of Léda and the Swan, and of course, Proust makes it explicit.

Me souvenant de ce qu'elle était sur mon lit, je croyais voir sa cuisse recourbée, je la voyais, c'était un col de cygne, il cherchait la bouche de l'autre jeune fille. Alors je ne voyais même plus une cuisse, mais le col hardi d'un cygne, comme celui qui dans une étude frémissante cherche la bouche d'une Léda qu'on voit dans toute la palpitation spécifique du plaisir féminin, parce qu'il n'y a qu'un cygne, qu'elle semble plus seule...

Surprisingly, Karpeles had not included any painting for this. There are many, one of the most famous attributed to Da Vinci.



A drawing by Raphael.





Another drawing by Michelangelo.





And a modern one which makes me think that may be CeCe can also tackle the subject in her drawing class...

More on the war..

The Narrator, refers to the memories he has heard from those who lived through the 1870 Prussian war, which lasted from July 1870 until May 1871. This war overlapped with the pregnancy of Proust's mother, and she had to leave Paris during that time; he was born on the 10th of July 1871. It seems he is projecting to those memories his own experiences or what he must have felt during WWI.

Ceux qui ont vécu pendant la guerre de 1870 par example disent que l'idée de la guerre avait fini par leur sembler naturelle non pas parce qu'ils ne pensaient pas assez à la guerre, mais y pensaient toujours. Et pour comprendre combien c'est un fait étrange et considérable que la guerre, il fallait quelque chose les arrachant à leur obsession permanente, qu'ils oubliassent un instant que la guerre régnait, se retrouvassent pareils à ce qu'ils étaient quand on était en paix, jusqu'à ce que tout à coup sur ce blanc momentanément se détachât, enfin distincte, la réalité monstrueuse que depuis longtemps ils avaient cessé de voir, ne voyant autre chose qu'elle.p. 195.

Here is Fauré's "Le secret" sung by Barbara Bonney....

Beautiful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S6MSEp...



And the lyrics:

Le Secret

Je veux que le matin l'ígnore le nom que j'ai dit a la nuit, Et qu'au vent de l'aube sans bruit comme une larme il sevapore.
Je veux que le jour le proclame, L'amour qu'au matin j'ai cache, Et sur mon coeur ouvert penche, comme un grain d'encens il l'enflamme. Je veux que le couchant l'oublie, Le secret que j'ai dit au jour, Et l'emporte avec mon amour, Aux plis de sa robe palie!



In translation:

The secret

I want the morning to forget the name I told the night, and that at the dawn's wind without a sound like a teardrop it vanishes
I want the day to proclaim, the love that I hid at morning, and above my open heart leans, like an incense's grain it catches fire. I want that the dusk forgets, the secret that I told at daybreak, and takes it away with my love, to the creases of her faded colors dress.


Good webpage:

www.lyricstranslate.com

Kalliope~
Do you know that feeling, when you are beside yourself, itching with good anxiety? Well, that is how I feel, when I see (new) posts for the following week's reading.

Like Albertine, who "could not wait for an hour while (the narrator) sent out for canvas and colours, (because) she wished to start painting again..."

I could not wait for Monday morning, before opening the new thread for 3 Nov..

Intuitively, I must have sensed a visual trove.
"Oh, it's too heavenly."

On the portrait of Charles I by Van Dyck... I normally immediately think of the Equestrian portrait now hanging in the London National Gallery.



But when the Narrator refers to it having entered the national collection thanks to Mme du Barry, I was a bit perplexed.

...un prix en quelque sorte historique et curieux comme celui que le tableau de Charles Ier par Van Dyck, déjà si beau par lui-même, acquiert encore de plus, du fait qu'il soit entré dans les collections nationales par la volonté de Mme du Barry, d'impressionner le Roi. p. 220.

So, I checked Karpeles, and of course he is referring to this non-equestrian portrait.



But I was curious about how it would have ended with Mme du Barry. Recently I have been studying the history of some art collections. And in England, when Charles I was executed, his art collection was up for spoils. Many of those paintings ended up in France. Something similar happened with the collections of several nobles during the English revolution, which also ended up either in Vienna or in Paris.


And from The Louvre site.

One of the masterpieces of the artist's English period, dating from about 1635. It was paid for by the king in 1638, and was meant to be a portrait of the monarch "at the hunt," hence his aristocratic - and therefore elegant and distinguished - rather than specifically royal appearance (there are no monarchic insignia, merely an inscription). An unforgettable lesson in pictorial harmony between human figures (the king and equerries), animals (the horse), and landscape background.
A gentleman out hunting
As the painter noted in a memorandum written in French in about 1638, he portrayed the king "at the hunt." Van Dyck, a former assistant of Rubens whose equestrian portraits were profoundly influenced by Titian, invented a highly innovative royal iconography here. The painting is not, strictly speaking, an official royal portrait. Charles I has no doubt just dismounted for a short rest while two pages are care for his horse. The king is portrayed here as a gracious gentleman, an elegant courtier like the one Baldassare Castiglione described in his famous treatise.

Regal self-assurance

But this elegant portrait, despite its apparent casualness, is nevertheless a statement of royal grandeur. As the Latin inscription, Carolus.I.REX Magnae Britanniae, proclaims, Charles I reigns supreme over Great Britain, hence over the united kingdoms of England and Scotland.

The king's costume is, of course, far too luxurious for a day's hunting: wide-brimmed hat, elaborate turned-down boots, and above all the magnificent doublet on whose silvery fabric the painter displays his mastery of shimmering light effects. He artfully enhances the figure of the king by placing him to one side, well-lit and standing out against a bright sky, while his servants are in the shade on the right. The king is looking out over a coastal landscape illustrating his kingdom's diverse riches. His overall pose is a subtle compromise between gentlemanly nonchalance and regal assurance: one hand proudly on his hip, the other resting on his walking stick, as noble an attribute as the sword at his side. The low-angle viewpoint accentuates the king's haughty expression.

The founder of the English school


The portrait is thought to have been painted around 1635, ten years before the king's tragic death. Van Dyck had left Antwerp for London, where he had become official portrait painter to the English court. His many brilliant portraits of the British aristocracy laid the foundations of the English school. His style, oscillating between aristocratic reserve and sumptuous elegance, influenced Joshua Reynolds and Thomas Gainsborough. It is not known exactly how this picture found its way to France in the 17th century, but we do know that Countess Du Barry acquired it for her chateau at Louveciennes and later sold it to Louis XVI, who would suffer the same fate as Charles I.

http://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre-notice...


There is also this one, very interesting with the three views, frontal, pure profile and three quarters.

Marcelita wrote: "Kalliope~
Do you know that feeling, when you are beside yourself, itching with good anxiety? Well, that is how I feel, when I see (new) posts for the following week's reading.
.."

Sorry, Marcelita, rushing ahead.... Venice is waiting...

On Mme de Boigne,

Ainsi, Sainte-Beuve, le lundi, pouvait se représenter Mme de Boigne dans son lit à hautes colonnes lisant son article du Constitutionnel, appréciant telle jolie phrase dans laquelle il s'était longtemps complu et qui ne serait peut-être jamais sorti de lui.... p. 231.

In the footnote it says that her Mémoires began appearing from 1907 and that Proust wrote about them in Le Figaro on the 20th March 1907 in a long article Journées de lecture (I have to check whether I have it in Ecrits Sur L'Art).

It also says that Mme de Boigne is one of the models for Mme de Villeparisis.

I have already purchased her memoires, in two volumes, so I got quite excited to encounter them here again. She was mentioned in a previous volume.

Kalliope wrote: "...when Charles I was executed, his art collection was up for spoils. Many of those paintings ended up in France. Something similar happened with the collections of several nobles during the English revolution, which also ended up either in Vienna or in Paris."

Don't forget the "more than 70 paintings sold to Catherine the Great in the 18th century by the family of Britain’s first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole.

"The magnificent art collection of Britain’s first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole, sold to Catherine the Great to adorn the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, is reassembled in its spectacular original setting for the first time in over 200 years."

! Extended through 24 November 2013 !
Watch the video
http://www.houghtonrevisited.com/

"More than 70 masterpieces from the Hermitage return to rural Britain for a historic exhibition."
http://rbth.ru/arts/2013/05/13/cather...

Marcelita wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "...when Charles I was executed, his art collection was up for spoils. Many of those paintings ended up in France. Something similar happened with the collections of several nobles ..."

Yes, you are right... that was another destiny. There is a book of that collection on which I have my eyes set.

Found another "dame en rose", and with a fan....!!


By Alexandre Cabanel, "Mme Olivia Peyton", 1887.

Kalliope wrote: "Here is Fauré's "Le secret" sung by Barbara Bonney....

Beautiful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S6MSEp...

Great illlustrations and I love the Barbara Bonney piece. Gorgeous.

And the lyrics:

Le Secret

Je veux que le matin l'ígnore le nom que j'ai dit a la..."

Phillida wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "Here is Fauré's "Le secret" sung by Barbara Bonney....

Thank you, Kalliope for both Faure and Bonney. I had only heard her sing Purcell, and this song was one of Faure's I didn'..."

This is lovely, Phillida. I have only read Paradise Lost. never his Sonnets (I also want to read Shakespeare's), and yes, Bonney's voice is so velvety..

Kalliope wrote: "The passage on the two paintings by Elstir on female nudes bathing in a forest, irremediably brought to my memory the whole series of Bathers by Cézanne.."

I thought of Cézanne also when I read that passage so it was great to find the images here. Also the various versions of Leda and the Swan. That Albertine represents the swan is interesting, that the Narrator chose to think of the encounter with the laundry maid in those terms.
All of these paintings are so well chosen to illustrate this section.
I'm reminded too of a discussion we had in the first volume about Proust's art influences. We wondered if he had yet come across Cézanne and concluded not. But he certainly must have in the meantime.

Fionnuala wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "The passage on the two paintings by Elstir on female nudes bathing in a forest, irremediably brought to my memory the whole series of Bathers by Cézanne.."

I thought of Cézanne al..."

Yes, I agree.. we have seen his aesthetic choices change.. both in painting and in music, and prove in a different way what he said in the interview, that he wanted to capture the passage of time...

Cézanne and Proust...

From Carter's biography:

"By January 22 (1919) Proust had received the proofs of his Blanche preface, which he corrected almost immediately and sent on to the editor. Having heard rumors that Blanche was “frightened” by the preface, Proust urged him not to publish it “just to please me.” Marcel had reason to be unhappy with Blanche. The painter had revised his book since the early version Proust had read, adding discussions of paintings by Paul Cézanne, Edgar Degas, and Auguste Renoir. Blanche asked Proust to cut what he had written on Vuillard and Denis, depriving him of the opportunity to discuss two artists whose works he knew and admired." WCC
"Marcel Proust: A Life, with a New Preface by the Author" by William C. Carter.
books.google.com/books?isbn=0300195095

Phillida wrote: "Kalliope wrote: "Here is Fauré's "Le secret" sung by Barbara Bonney....

Thank you, Kalliope for both Faure and Bonney. I had only heard her sing Purcell, and this song was one of Faure's I didn'..."

This is beautiful, Phillida.

Proust comes down on Twitter again,

It is the tragedy of other people that they are merely showcases
for the very perishable collections of one's own mind. ML p. 751

...a vaster system in which souls move in time as bodies move in space.

As there is a geometry in space, so there is a psychology in time... ML p. 751

We are getting more and more references to earlier parts of the novel... As we approach the vault of this cathedral of a novel, we encounter the other ribs as they prolong to the top where everything seems to converge.

... comme autrefois, les côtés de Méséglise et de Guermantes avaient établi les assisses de mon gôut pour la campagne et m'eussent empêché de trouver un charme profond dans un pays où il n'y aurait pas eu de vieille église, de bleuet, de boutons d'or, c'est de même en les rattachant en moi à un passé plein de charme... p. 214.

And the importance of the flowers, in Proust's world, continues to be emphasized a bit later...

... il rattachait ces femmes à mon passé, leur donnait quelque chose de plus réel, comme aux boutons d'or, aux aubépines les souvenirs de Combray donnait plus de réalité qu'aux fleurs nouvelles.p. 215.

A fascinating passage on the techniques of narration used by writers....


Les romanciers prétendent souvent dans une introduction qu'en voyageant dans un pays ils ont rencontré quelqu'un qui leur a raconte la vie d'une personne. Ils laissent alors la parole à cet ami de rencontre et le récit qu'il fait c'est précisément leur roman... p. 211-212.

and goes on to cite Stendhal's La chartreuse de Parme as an example of this narrative technique.

In this section we see "l'habitude" giving place while enforcing "l'oubli", and this concept follows a passage that seems a direct quote from the interview he gave to Le Temps when the first volume was published.

This is the section from the interview given on November 1913 and posted in #50 in last weeks thread (will try to translate it when I come back from Venice):


Ce n’est pas ma conception du roman. Comment vous dire cela. Vous savez qu’il y a une géométrie plane et une géométrie dans l’espace. Et bien pour moi le roman ce n’est pas seulement de la psychologie plane mais de la psychologie dans le temps. Cette substance invisible du temps j’ai taché de l’isoler.

and this is what he has included in this sixth volume:

Comme il y a une géométrie dans l'espace il y a une géométrie dans le temps, où les calculs d'une psychologie plane ne seraient plus exacts parce qu'on n'y tiendrait pas compte du Temps et d'une des formes qu'il revêt, l'oubli...

and this is where he introduces l'oubli, for the above passage continues..

....l'oubli dont je commençais à sentir la force et qui est un si puissant instrument d'adaptation à la réalité parce qu'il détruit peu à peu en nous le passé survivant qui est en constante contradiction avec elle. p. 218.

And the leitmotiv of Vinteuil's "la petite phrase", if it had represented to Swann and Odette the core of their relationship in a sort of static and self contained, way appears again. But this time, to the Narrator, it has become, in a very strange and transfused way, and in a non-static manner, the representation of the developments and changes and evolutions of the story of his love.

So, the leitmotive itself has developed and has varied, as it does in musical compositions.

Ce n'était pas tout à fait les mêmes associations d'idées chez moi que chez Swann que la petite phrase avait éveillées. J'avais été surtout sensible à l'élaboration, aux essais, aux reprises, au devenir d'une phrase qui se faisait durant la sonate comme cet amour c'était fait durant ma vie. p. 221.

Marcelita wrote: "Cézanne and Proust...

.."

Does anybody know where this preface to the book on Blanche can be found?.. I should check at home in my volume of his Ecrits Sur L'Art, to see if they have included it.

Kalliope wrote: Does anybody know where this preface to the book on Blanche can be found?.. I should check at home in my volume of his Ecrits Sur L'Art, to see if they..."

I have come across it somewhere too and perhaps in the Écrits sur l'Art but am away from home...
I've been thinking a lot about this notion of the three demionsional geometry of space and psychology of 'Time' that Proust spoke about in that interview and now again in this volume. I thought I had begun to grasp the notion but now that he has added the forgetting dimension, I'm struggling a bit...

Fionnuala wrote: "Kalliope wrote: Does anybody I have come across it so..."

I was having breakfast with a colleague who yesterday went to a conference given by an astrophysicist from Cambridge-CalTech, titled "Let there be Light".. and he spoke about the universe being flat (so two dimensions only).. and dark energy and dark matter.. (not just black holes)

So, may be Proust's "l'oubli" is dark energy with a resulting dark matter.

Eugene wrote: "...a vaster system in which souls move in time as bodies move in space.

As there is a geometry in space, so there is a psychology in time... ML p. 751"

I noted this too, Eugene. Great quote.

Kalliope wrote: "And the leitmotiv of Vinteuil's "la petite phrase", if it had represented to Swann and Odette the core of their relationship in a sort of static and self contained, way appears again. But this tim..."

And I really liked "...c'était mon amour qu'il me semblait, en la petite phrase éparpillée, voir se désagréger devant moi."

I also find the concept of time hard to grasp; it is easier for me to see l'oubli as 'dans le temps et hors du temps' in a non-linear fashion.

Do we have a time frame for how long the narrator is grieving over Albertine? Proust who was so concerned with the passing of time certainly leaves us in a black hole in terms of the time frames of the different episodes. I was surprised to read earlier when he mentioned having met Albertine six years prior her leaving him. I thought it was only half of that.

Kalliope wrote: "We are getting more and more references to earlier parts of the novel... As we approach the vault of this cathedral of a novel, we encounter the other ribs as they prolong to the top where everythi..."

And also, a little further, the reference to the pink cheeks of the milkmaid in Balbec which he recalls while gazing at the sky. It makes me want to go back and read the first two volumes all over again.

I think it was BookPortrait who suggested a vote on our favorite character in the novel. Mine would go to Françoise. I think that she is the best drawn character, every stroke adding a surprising touch to her personality. "Pour ne pas se sentir méprisée, elle nous méprisait."

Phillida wrote: "Jocelyne wrote: "...the reference to the pink cheeks of the milkmaid in Balbec..."

I too noticed the return of cheeks, and especially pink cheeks. In SW and SYGF we read repeatedly of Odette's ..."

Maybe we should also have a vote to give the novel a color. Pink would sound rather frivolous, but maybe Tiepolo pink!

I've missed the Duchess for that "intersection between reality and dream", as unpleasant as she can be, she excites me: I want to talk to her, I want to be in her drawing room, sitting there and watching her; but of course, in reality, I want to read of her as I dream.

Then the idea of reality returned as I entered the Duchess's hall. But I consoled myself with the reflexion that in spite of everything she was for me the real point of intersection between reality and dream. ML p. 773

There is a mystery to her, a confidence to her being; I want to know why she has no lover and there are so many other things I want to know. I will listen to her because until she answers I wouldn't even have been aware of the many questions that I'd had.

Which of us has not experienced in the course of his life exquisite uncertainties more or less similar to this? ML p. 761

Phillida wrote: "Jocelyne wrote: "...the reference to the pink cheeks of the milkmaid in Balbec..."

I too noticed the return of cheeks, and especially pink cheeks. In SW and SYGF we read repeatedly of Odette's ..."

Yes, picking up the cheeks motif again has a structural role, as he is beginning to pull things together... The themes are conflating or converging as we are approaching the end.

There has been some posts on the cheeks in the Lounge around posts #3571 (Reem).

Also in the Lounge, in post #3578, I posted about the idea of going back in time as in a return trip and revisiting the places. I did not have the book with me, but here is the wonderful section.

The power of literature, which, sadly, however powerful is less so than the power of l'habitude and of l'oubli.

Et parfois la lecture d'un roman un peu triste me ramenait brusquement en arrière, car certains romans sont comme de grands deuils momentanés, abolissent l'habitude, nous remettent en contact avec la réalité de la vie, mais pour quelques heures seulement comme un cauchemar, car les forces de l'habitude, l'oubli qu'elles produisent, la gaieté qu'elles ramènent par l'impuissance du cerveau à lutter contre elles et à recréer le vrai, l'emportent infiniment sur la suggestion presque hypnotique d'un beau livre, laquelle comme toutes les suggestions a des effets très courts.p. 222

The Narrator begins to make references to his novel... (this is getting so exciting...!!)

This is when he is about to send a telegram to Saint-Loup to try and find out more about the "Mlle d'Eporchevile"...

... allaient être au service du roman que je venais d'ébaucher et auquel je n'avais même plus besoin de penser, car ils allaient se charger de le conclure dans un sens ou dans un autre avant que quatre-vingt heures fussent accomplies.p. 227.

Another fascinating section on the identity of the author when he becomes also his own reader...

...je ne peux pas croire que chaque personnage en ouvrant les yeux ne verra pas directement ces images que je vois, croyant que la pensée de l'auteur est directement perçue par le lecteur, tandis que c'est une autre pensée qui se fabrique dans son esprit...... au moment même où je veux être un lecteur quelconque, mon esprit refait en auteur le travail de ceux qui lisent mon article. p. 230.

This theme is further elaborated and he comes to the extraordinary image of the identity that something which is read (the article) acquires in the minds of the readers. That identity is likened to a mutilated and collective Venus.

C'est une Venus collective, dont on n'a qu'un membre mutilé si l'on se tient à la pensée de l'auteur car elle ne se réalise complète que dans l'esprit de ses lecteurs. En eux elle s'achève. p. 231.

Now, isn't this po-mo or what?

And also when he writes that certain philosophers say that the external world does not exist. "Certains philosophes disent que le monde exterieur n'existe pas et que c'est en nous-mêmes que nous développons notre vie. Quoi qu'il en soit l'amour même en ses plus humbles commencements est un exemple frappant du peu qu'est la réalité pour nous." Ain't that the truth?

And later continuing that theme, "Nous n'avons de l'univers que des visions informes, fragmentées et que nous complétons par des associations d'idées arbitraires, créatrices de dangereuses suggestions."

Proust was indeed, to quote Justice Breyer, "the Shakespeare of the inner world."

Kalliope wrote: ..the idea of going back in time as in a return trip and revisiting the places.."

In the Combray and Balbec sections of the early volumes, we discovered the Narrator's preoccupation with legends and with place names, how they fed his imagination and inspired many dream journeys and some actual ones. Now we get the reverse effect. Now the legends and the place names, which formerly seemed so magical, only evoke pain and heartache. Il n'y avait pas une station près de Balbec où je ne la revisse, de sorte que cette terre comme un pays mythologique conservé, me rendait vivantes et cruelles les légendes les plus anciennes, les plus charmantes, les plus effacés par ce qui avait suivi de mon amour.

Kalliope wrote: This theme is further elaborated and he comes to the extraordinary image of the identity that something which is read (the article) acquires in the minds of the readers. That identity is likened to a mutilated and collective Venus.

C'est une Venus collective, dont on n'a qu'un membre mutilé si l'on se tient à la pensée de l'auteur car elle ne se réalise complète que dans l'esprit de ses lecteurs. En eux elle s'achève. p. 231.

Now, isn't this poem or what?

No, not Po-Mo, it is more specifically Reader-response theory

...which gained prominence in the late 1960s, that focuses on the reader or audience reaction to a particular text, perhaps more than the text itself. Reader-response criticism can be connected to poststructuralism’s emphasis on the role of the reader in actively constructing texts rather than passively consuming them... from http://www.poetryfoundation.org/learn...

Here's the translation of the Proust you quote,

It is a collective Venus, of which we have but one truncated limb if we confine ourselves to the thought of the author, for it is fully realized only in the minds of his readers. In them it finds completion. ML p. 769

The image that Proust uses is a simple metaphor that he attaches a limb to (he mutilates): "but one truncated limb", "n'a qu'un membre mutilé" if you are taking the Venus de Milo (you could choose others) who has both limbs missing. Oh yes, anything can be Po-Mo, but please...

What interests me is that Proust can have these thoughts--can have the Narrator think such--before readers, the same in whom he finds the ability to "find completion" of a text, a novel and specifically ISOLT. Knowing this about his reader, as he does--let's get crazy--why would he have to make sense, 'to cross all the t's and dot all the i's' in his narrative. Perhaps Proust, being a bright man, decides to teach us something, we who are not mentally, spiritually or intellectually where he is in life who struggle with his meaning, structure, etc.

In my opinion, this text is unstable for a variety of reasons and to want of it stability is madness. But not for madness, for reading an un-sensible text written in a sensible manner partially answers another reading question of mine: why do many readers read it again.

I love how we follow all the little white pebbles Proust left for us. His writing is so dense with cultural, philosophical, historical, etc references, it often feels like we'll never get to the bottom of it.

The paintings and the Fauré clip are wonderful. I wonder who wrote Fauré's lyrics.

Just for pleasure Léda et le Cygne par Gustave Moreau:

Proust has a way of mixing lofty, deeply-felt ideas with prosaic imagery with a comedic kick:

"Comme le mal que j'avais fait à ma grand-mère, le mal que m'avait fait Albertine fut un dernier lien entre elle et moi et qui survécut même au souvenir, car, avec la conservation d'énergie que possède tout ce qui est physique, la souffrance n'a même pas besoin des leçons de la mémoire: ainsi un homme qui a oublié les belles nuits passées au clair de lune dans les bois souffre encore des rhumatismes qu'il y a pris." p186

But I like how this suggests that memory is written in the body, not just the mind. So true.

Another cultural reference in the passage Kalliope already mentioned:

J'avais justement vu deux peintures d'Elstir où dans un paysage touffu il y a des femmes nues. Dans l'une d'elles, l'une des jeunes filles lève le pied comme Albertine devait faire quand elle l'offrait à la blanchisseuse. De l'autre pied elle pousse à l'eau l'autre jeune fille qui gaiement résiste, la cuisse levée, son pied trempant à peine dans l'eau bleue. Je me rappelais maintenant que la levée de la cuisse y faisait le même méandre de cou de cygne avec l'angle du genou, que faisait la chute de la cuisse d'Albertine quand elle était à côté de moi sur le lit, et j'avais voulu souvent lui dire qu'elle me rappelait ces peintures. Mais je ne l'avais pas fait pour ne pas éveiller en elle l'image de corps nus de femmes. Maintenant je la voyais à côté de la blanchisseuse et de ses amies, recomposer le groupe que j'avais tant aimé quand j'étais assis au milieu des amies d'Albertine à Balbec. Et si j'avais été un amateur sensible à la seule beauté j'aurais reconnu qu'Albertine le recomposait mille fois plus beau, maintenant que les éléments en étaient les statues nues de déesses comme celles que les grands sculpteurs éparpillaient à Versailles sous les bosquets ou donnaient dans les bassins à laver et à polir aux caresses du flot. Maintenant je la voyais à côté de la blanchisseuse, jeunes filles au bord de l'eau, dans leur double nudité de marbres féminins, au milieu d'une touffe de végétations et trempant dans l'eau comme des bas-reliefs nautiques." p 187







Les Grandes Eaux de Versailles is a beautiful spectacle:
http://www.chateauversailles-spectacl...

The Narrator continues to struggle with grief, jealousy and suffering, realising that all is inside him:

"Sans doute je me disais: «Pourquoi me tourmenter? Celle qui a eu du plaisir avec la blanchisseuse n'est plus rien, donc n'était pas une personne dont les actions gardent de la valeur. Elle ne se dit pas que je sais. Mais elle ne se dit pas non plus que je ne sais pas puisqu'elle ne se dit rien.» Mais ce raisonnement me persuadait moins que la vue de son plaisir qui me ramenait au moment où elle l'avait éprouvé. Ce que nous sentons existe seul pour nous, et nous le projetons dans le passé, dans l'avenir, sans nous laisser arrêter par les barrières fictives de la mort. Si mon regret qu'elle fût morte subissait dans ces moments-là l'influence de ma jalousie et prenait cette forme si particulière, cette influence s'étendait à mes rêves d'occultisme, d'immortalité qui n'étaient qu'un effort pour tâcher de réaliser ce que je désirais." p 188

And he finds solace in the "fragmentation" of his memory of Albertine (a new (side of) Albertine for different moments they spent together) which reflects another aspect of the work of time on our perceptions:

"Mais ce fut surtout ce fractionnement d'Albertine en de nombreux fragments, en de nombreuses Albertines, qui devint son seul mode d'existence en moi. Des moments revinrent où elle n'avait été que bonne, ou intelligente, ou sérieuse, ou même aimant plus que tout les sports. Et ce fractionnement, n'était-il pas, au fond, juste qu'il me calmât? Car s'il n'était pas en lui-même quelque chose de réel, s'il tenait à la forme successive des heures où elle m'était apparue, forme qui restait celle de ma mémoire comme la courbure des projections de ma lanterne magique tenait à la courbure des verres colorés, ne représentait-il pas à sa manière une vérité, bien objective celle-là, à savoir que chacun de nous n'est pas un, mais contient de nombreuses personnes qui n'ont pas toutes la même valeur morale,..." p 188

Like Jocelyne noted in msg#43, the Narrator continues to explore what is "real" and how fragmented our representations are.

Just beautiful:

"On aime sur un sourire, sur un regard, sur une épaule. Cela suffit; alors, dans les longues heures d'espérance ou de tristesse on fabrique une personne, on compose un caractère." p 190

This of course leads him straight to Swann falling and suffering for Odette who was not his type.

"Dire que j'ai gâché des années de ma vie, que j'ai voulu mourir, que j'ai eu mon plus grand amour, pour une femme qui ne me plaisait pas, qui n'était pas mon genre!" Du Côté de chez Swann

Quotable Proust:

"On ne guérit d'une souffrance qu'à condition de l'éprouver pleinement." p196

I was wondering what "da capo" means. Apparently it's a music term? The image is beautiful.

"Souvent c'était tout simplement pendant mon sommeil que, par ces «reprises», ces «da capo» du rêve qui tournent d'un seul coup plusieurs pages de la mémoire, plusieurs feuillets du calendrier me ramenaient, me faisaient rétrograder à une impression douloureuse mais ancienne, qui depuis longtemps avait cédé la place à d'autres et qui redevenait présente." p199

Passages such as this one where the Narrator explores and muses on dreams make me want to read more about Proust & Freud. I'm not sure how aware Proust was of Freud. Regardless, he was writing a novel that perspired reflections or methods common with Freud's work. For instance because La Recherche is an autobiographical, introspective récit by the Narrator, or because the digressions that are at the heart of the fabric of the novel recall the "associations d'idées" (eng?) that are so typical in psychoanalysis... and in art (the Surrealists embraced l'écriture automatique and dreams as sources of their art)... Proust incarnated the Zeitgeist.