In Search of Lost Time Volume 5: “The Captive/The Fugitive” The Captive pp. 45-90
“There are people whose faces assume an unaccustomed beauty and majesty the moment they cease to look out their eyes.” (p. 86)
Bride of Frankenstein. Our narrator encounters M. de Charlus and his younger (closeted) lover, the violinist prodigy Morel. Our narrator reflects on Morel’s engagement to the niece of Jupien, the tailor. Charlus is excited by his young lover’s engagement, already enjoying his role of playing “…the part of the father-in-law” (p. 54). Charlus does not see this engagement as losing his lover, but rather an opportunity to further mold him, as well as his fiancé. Meanwhile, our narrator reflects on his own relationship with Albertine and the transformation she has undergone since moving in with him. Our narrator acknowledges that due to his covert controlling of her actions and behaviors, he is primarily responsible for Albertine’s change, while maintaining the appearance of being the most graceful of hosts and romantic partners, including allowing Albertine her freedom to spend her days being escorted throughout Paris by a chauffeur, traveling to wherever she pleases. What Albertine does not know is that our narrator is receiving information about her whereabouts from her friend Andrée. Despite all this control over Albertine, our narrator continues to lose the fight with his jealousy.
“For the possession of what we love is an even greater joy than love itself.” (p. 58)
POSSESSION AND LOVE ARE EVER-MOVING DANCE PARTNERS. The term ‘possession’ has been used consistently throughout Proust’s novel to describe the experience of love, but the application of the words has had a shifting center. In these current pages, possession is synonymous with control; Charlus controlling Morel’s movements and as our narrator controlling Albertine. But possession did not always mean ‘to control.’ Much earlier in the novel (I believe this occurred in volume 2: “Within a Budding Grove” but I cannot say with any certainty), when our narrator was a boy, he encountered a beautiful girl of similar age. After spending several paragraphs describing the girl’s beauty, he says, and I’m slightly paraphrasing, “I want to possess whatever lies behind her eyes.”
Possession of the Mystery vs. Control over Others. There is an ongoing struggle in this novel between the world of reality and the world of the imagination and I think it’s a conflict that sits at the center of our narrator (and which I suspect is at the center of all humans). As a boy he wanted to possess “whatever lies behind her eyes,” which seems to me to be the quest to seek out the intangible mystery of what attracts one person to another. I think that whatever that mystery is, it can only be experienced through the imagination. Our narrator shifted away from this poetic quest as his fears about losing Albertine came to light in volume 4: “Sodom and Gomorrah.” The reader watched as his fears turned to jealousy which led to our narrator beginning to control Albertine, which came on full display in this current volume. But while our narrator’s cynicism and distrust has overtaken his relationship, with he cannot help but be drawn back to that initial attraction – the mystery behind Albertine’s eyes.
“On the days when I did not go down to Mme. de Guermantes, so that time should not hang too heavy for me during the hour that proceeded Albertine’s return, I would take up an album of Elstir’s work, one of Bergotte’s books, or Vinteuil’s sonata. Then, just as those works of art which seem to address themselves to the eye or ear alone require that, if we are to appreciate them…I would unconsciously summon up from within me the dreams that Albertine had inspired in me long ago before I knew her and that had been quenched by the routine of everyday life. I would cast them into the composer’s phrase or the painter’s image as into a crucible, or use them to enrich the book that I was reading.” (p. 66)
DESPITE OUR EGO’S ATTEMPT TO CLAIM DOMINIANCE, OUR IMAGIANTION WILL NOT LET GO OF THE MYSTERY. “I would unconsciously summon up from within me the dreams that Albertine had inspired in me long ago…” Art and literature act in a similar way to the petite madeleine cookies our narrator bit into way back in volume 1: “Swann’s Way,” the taste which spontaneously returned to our narrator a long-forgotten memory involving he and his aunt. Similarly, reading the literature of Bergotte or admiring the art of Elstir, spontaneously provoked in our narrator to unconsciously summon the pursuit of the mystery behind Albertine’s eyes. For a moment, our narrator was able to relieve those early experiences of love without the intrusion of doubt, questions, or pesky thought. Of course, the moment was fleeting as reality retains its dominance once more and those “dreams that Albertine had inspired in my long ago” are once again “quenched by the routine of everyday life.”
Rene Magritte “The Lovers 1” (1928)
“For the possession of what we love is an even greater joy than love itself.” (p. 58)
LOVE ITSELF IS AN ACT OF ‘LETTING GO.’ Years ago, I had a love affair with Calypso. Our attraction was founded in a similar way to our narrator and Albertine’s or even Swann and Odette’s. Like those other star-crossed partners Calypso and I were ironic lovers, as our realities could not have been more different, our values more diverse and our interests more opposite. But that attraction – that mystery behind the eyes – was as real as could be and brought us together. When I think of how our narrator mingled the dreams of Albertine with those works of art…
“I would cast them into the composer’s phrase or the painter’s image as into a crucible, or use them to enrich the book that I was reading.” (p. 66)
…I recall all the amateurishly sincere poems I wrote for Calypso, the sketches and drawings I made for her, and the silly stories we shared. One silly story that we shared became a running gag in our relationship as we imagined a story where we had a child together and that imaginary child was a cross between Rosemary’s Baby and the minitour. Calypso and I would one-up each other on how atrocious we could make our child up to be as we inserted our monster baby into normal family affairs. It was a funny inside joke between us, that shed a parodic light onto how different we were and the curious results that could spring from our love. So, as we struggled to integrate our very different lives, Calypso and I had a shared imagination.
AN OVERTURE TO THE MYSTERY. I wanted to do something unique for Calypso. There was a book she loved when she was a little girl. I bought the book, a beautiful hardbound copy, in its original language – also Calypso’s first language. Then I wrote a long poem that was to be inscribed within the inside cover of the book. Once written, I had the inscription translated into Calypso’s first language. Then I gave her the book. It was a big overture to Calypso and an attempt to reach for the mystery behind her eyes and in receiving this gift, she reached back to the mystery within me.
“Love, I used to say to myself at Balbec, is what we feel for a person; our jealousy seems rather to be directed towards the person’s actions; we feel that if she were to tell us everything we might perhaps be cured of our love.” (p. 72)
EVENTUALLY OUR SHARED IMAGINATION OF LOVE TURNED INTO A POWER STRUGGLE FOR REALITY. A couple of weeks after I gifted Calypso that book, we had a series of fights. I can’t recall the details of the fights (I’m sure they didn’t matter – the tragedy is that they rarely ever did). I just remember that accusations were made, personal insults were launched, and vulnerable information was weaponized. At some point during the melee, I remember becoming eerily calm. Then I stood up and walked out of the room. I approached Calypso’s bookcase and retrieved the book I had gifted her. I opened to the page with the inscription and tore the page out. I proceeded to shred the page containing my translated love into tiny pieces. I scattered the pieces onto the floor before returning the book to the shelf.
“…we feel that if she were to tell us everything we might perhaps be cured of our love.” (p. 72)
CALYPSO AND I CONTINUED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP OF VARIOUS ITERATIONS FOR A COUPLE OF MORE YEARS. The poems stopped, the stories ended, the shared dreams were over. I gave up on pursuing that mystery. It was strange though because the love was still there. That’s why I culled this line. The idea of needing to be “cured” of love speaks to how painful it was after the fighting and the shredding inscription. Calypso and I both gave up on the idea of pursing each other’s mystery at that point, but stubbornly remained in a relationship – a stalemate – because while we resented the other, neither of us were cured of the virus we carried containing each other’s love.