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 BRADDOM’S
REHABILITATION
CARE
A Clinical Handbook
This page intentionally left blank

     
 BRADDOM’S
REHABILITATION
CARE
A Clinical Handbook
David X. Cifu, MD
Chairman
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Herman J. Flax, MD Professor
Virginia Commonwealth University School of Medicine
Principal Investigator
Veterans Affairs/Department of Defense Chronic Effects of Neurotrauma Consortium
Richmond, Virginia

Henry L. Lew, MD, PhD

Tenured Professor, University of Hawaii School of Medicine
Chair, Department of Communication Sciences and Disorders
Honolulu, Hawaii
Adjunct Professor, Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Virginia Commonwealth University School of Medicine
Richmond, Virginia
1600 John F. Kennedy Blvd.
Ste 1800
Philadelphia, PA 19103-2899

BRADDOM’S REHABILITATION CARE:

A CLINICAL HANDBOOK ISBN: 978-0-323-47904-2

Copyright © 2018 by Elsevier, Inc. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Details on how to
seek permission, further information about the Publisher’s permissions policies and our
­arrangements with organizations such as the Copyright Clearance Center and the Copyright
­Licensing Agency, can be found at our website: www.elsevier.com/permissions.

This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copyright by
the Publisher (other than as may be noted herein).

Notices

Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and
experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional prac-
tices, or medical treatment may become necessary.
Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge
in evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described
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To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors,
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methods, products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Cifu, David X., editor. | Lew, Henry L., editor.
Title: Braddom’s rehabilitation care : a clinical handbook / [edited by]
David X. Cifu, Henry L. Lew.
Other titles: Rehabilitation care | Supplement to (expression): Braddom’s
physical medicine & rehabilitation. Fifth edition.
Description: Philadelphia, PA : Elsevier, [2018] | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017021675 | ISBN 9780323479042 (pbk. : alk. paper)
Subjects: | MESH: Rehabilitation—methods | Handbooks
Classification: LCC RM700 | NLM WB 39 | DDC 617.03—dc23 LC record available at
https://lccn.loc.gov/2017021675

Senior Acquisition Editor: Kristine Jones

Content Development Specialist: Meghan Andress
Publishing Services Manager: Patricia Tannian
Senior Project Manager: Claire Kramer
Design Direction: Amy Buxton

Printed in the United States of America

Last digit is the print number: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Contributors
Mohd Izmi Bin Ahmad, MBBS, MRehabMed, CIME (USA)
Rehabilitation Physician
Head, Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
Hospital Pulau Pinang
George Town, Penang, Malaysia

Eleftheria Antoniadou, MD, FEBPMR, PhDc

Consultant
Rehabilitation Clinic for Spinal Cord Injury
Patras University Hospital
University of Patras
Patras, Greece

Joseph Burris, MD
Associate Professor of Clinical Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
University of Missouri
Columbia, Missouri

Maria Gabriella Ceravolo, MD, PhD

Professor of Physical and Rehabilitation Medicine
Department of Experimental and Clinical Medicine
Politecnica delle Marche University
Director of Neurorehabilitation Clinic
University Hospital of Ancona
Ancona, Italy

Chein-Wei Chang, MD
Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University
Taipei, Taiwan

Shih-Chung Chang, MD, MS

Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Chung Shan Medical University
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Chung Shan Medical University Hospital
Taichung, Taiwan

Carl Chen, MD, PhD

Director
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Chang Gung Memorial Hospital
Taipei, Taiwan

   v
vi Contributors

Chih-Kuang Chen, MD
Assistant Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Chang Gung Memorial Hospital
Taoyuan, Taiwan

Shih-Ching Chen, MD, PhD

Deputy Dean and Professor
School of Medicine
College of Medicine
Taipei Medical University
Professor and Attending Physician
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Taipei Medical University Hospital
Taipei, Taiwan

Chen-Liang Chou, MD
Director and Clinical Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Yang-Ming University
Taipei Veterans General Hospital
Taipei, Taiwan

Willy Chou, MD, HRMS

General Secretary, Superintendent Office
Chief Director, Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Chi Mei Medical Center
Associate Professor
Recreation and Health Care Management
Chia Nan University of Pharmacy
Tainan, Taiwan

Tze Yang Chung, MBBS, MRehabMed

Senior Lecturer, Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of Malaya
Rehabilitation Physician
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of Malaya Medical Centre
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

David X. Cifu, MD
Chairman
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Herman J. Flax, MD Professor
Virginia Commonwealth University School of Medicine
Principal Investigator
Veterans Affairs/Department of Defense Chronic Effects of Neurotrauma
Consortium
Richmond, Virginia
 Contributors vii

Andrew Malcolm Dermot Cole, MBBS (Hons), FACRM, FAFRM

Chief Medical Officer
HammondCare
Sydney, Australia
Associate Professor (Conjoint)
Faculty of Medicine
University of New South Wales
Kensington, Australia
Senior Consultant Rehabilitation Medicine
Greenwich Hospital
Greenwich, Australia

Rochelle Coleen Tan Dy, MD

Assistant Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Baylor College of Medicine
Houston, Texas

Blessen C. Eapen, MD
Section Chief, Polytrauma Rehabilitation Center
TBI/Polytrauma Fellowship Program Director
South Texas Veterans Health Care System
Associate Professor
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
UT Health San Antonio
San Antonio, Texas

Julia Patrick Engkasan, MBBS (Mal), MRehabMed (Mal)

Associate Professor
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Gerard E. Francisco, MD
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
University of Texas Health Science Center (UTHealth)
McGovern Medical School
NeuroRecovery Research Center
TIRR Memorial Hermann
Houston, Texas

Francesca Gimigliano, MD, PhD

Associate Professor of Physical and Rehabilitation Medicine
Department of Mental and Physical Health and Preventive Medicine
University of Campania “Luigi Vanvitelli”
Naples, Italy
viii Contributors

Elizabeth J. Halmai, DO
Medical Director, Section Chief
Division of Polytrauma
South Texas Veterans Health Care System
Assistant Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
University of Texas Health Science Center San Antonio
San Antonio, Texas

Nazirah Hasnan, MBBS, MRehabMed, PhD

Deputy Director (Clinical)
University of Malaya Medical Centre
Associate Professor and Rehabilitation Consultant
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Ziad M. Hawamdeh, MD
Senior Fellowship of the European Board of Physical Medicine and
Rehabilitation
Jordanian Board of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Professor of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Faculty of Medicine
University of Jordan
Amman, Jordan

Joseph E. Herrera, DO, FAAPMR

Chairman and Lucy G Moses Professor
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
Mount Sinai Health System
Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai
New York, New York

Ming-Yen Hsiao, MD
Lecturer
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital
College of Medicine
National Taiwan University
Taipei, Taiwan

Lin-Fen Hsieh, MD
Professor
School of Medicine
Fu Jen Catholic University
New Taipei City, Taiwan
Director
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Shin Kong Wo Ho-Su Memorial Hospital
Taipei, Taiwan
 Contributors ix

Rashidah Ismail Ohnmar Htwe, MBBS, M MED Sc (Rehab Med), CMIA

Associate Professor
Rehabilitation Unit
Department of Orthopedics and Traumatology
Associate Research Fellow
Tissue Engineering Centre
Faculty of Medicine
Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia
Consultant Rehabilitation Physician
Rehabilitation Unit
Department of Orthopedics and Traumatology
Hospital Canselor Tuanku Muhriz
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Yu-Hui Huang, MD, PhD

Associate Professor
School of Medicine
Chung Shan Medical University
Director
Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Chung Shan Medical University Hospital
Taichung, Taiwan

Chen-Yu Hung, MD
Attending Physician
Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital, Beihu Branch
Taipei, Taiwan

Norhayati Hussein, MBBS, MRehabMed, Fellowship in Neurorehabilitation

Rehabilitation Physician
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
Cheras Rehabilitation Hospital
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Elena Milkova Ilieva, MD, PhD, Prof.

Head of Department
Physical and Rehabilitation Medicine
Medical Faculty
Medical University of Plovdiv
Head of Department
Physical and Rehabilitation Medicine
“Sv Georgi” University Hospital
Plovdiv, Bulgaria

Lydia Abdul Latif, MBBS, MRM

Professor and Consultant Rehabilitation Physician
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
Faculty of Medicine
University of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
x Contributors

Wai-Keung Lee, MD
Chief, Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Tao Yuan General Hospital
Tao Yuan, Taiwan

Henry L. Lew, MD, PhD

Tenured Professor, University of Hawaii School of Medicine
Chair, Department of Communication Sciences and Disorders
Honolulu, Hawaii
Adjunct Professor, Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Virginia Commonwealth University School of Medicine
Richmond, Virginia

Chia-Wei Lin, MD
Attending Physician
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital, Hsin Chu Branch
Hsin Chu, Taiwan

Ding-Hao Liu, MD
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Taipei Veterans General Hospital, Yuanshan Branch
Yilan, Taiwan

Mazlina Mazlan, MBBS, MRM

Associate Professor
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
Faculty of Medicine
University of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Matthew J. McLaughlin, MD, MSB

Assistant Professor
Division of Pediatric Rehabilitation Medicine
Children’s Mercy Hospital
Kansas City, Missouri

Amaramalar Selvi Naicker, MBBS (Ind), MRehabMed (Mal)

Professor of Rehabilitation Medicine and Head of Rehabilitation Medicine Unit
Department of Orthopedics and Traumatology
Associate Research Fellow
Tissue Engineering Centre
Faculty of Medicine
Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
 Contributors xi

Mooyeon Oh-Park, MD, MS

Director of Geriatric Rehabilitation
Kessler Institute for Rehabilitation
Vice Chair of Education
Research Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Rutgers New Jersey Medical School
Newark, New Jersey

Vishwa S. Raj, MD
Director of Oncology Rehabilitation
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Carolinas Rehabilitation
Chief of Cancer Rehabilitation
Department of Supportive Care
Levine Cancer Institute
Carolinas Healthcare System
Charlotte, North Carolina

Renald Peter Ty Ramiro, MD

Dean, College of Rehabilitative Sciences
Cebu Doctors’ University
Mandaue City, Cebu, Philippines,
Head, Physical and Rehabilitation Medicine
Cebu Doctors’ University Hospital
Cebu City, Cebu, Philippines
Head, Rehabilitation Medicine
Mactan Doctors’ Hospital
Lapu-lapu City, Cebu, Philippines

Reynaldo R. Rey-Matias, PT, MD, MSHMS

Chair, Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
St. Luke’s Medical Center and College of Medicine
Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines
Clinical Associate Professor
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of the Philippines–College of Medicine
Manila, Philippines

Desiree L. Roge, MD
Assistant Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Baylor College of Medicine
Assistant Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Texas Children’s Hospital
Houston, Texas
xii Contributors

Shaw-Gang Shyu, MD
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital
Taipei, Taiwan

Clarice N. Sinn, DO, MHA

Assistant Professor
UT Southwestern Medical Center/Children’s Health
Dallas, Texas

Anwar Suhaimi, MBBS, MRehabMed (Malaya)

Rehabilitation Medicine Specialist
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of Malaya Medical Centre
Senior Lecturer
Department of Rehabilitation Medicine
University of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Yi-Chian Wang, MD, MSc

Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital
Taipei, Taiwan

Chueh-Hung Wu, MD
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital
Taipei City, Taiwan

Yung-Tsan Wu, MD
Attending Physician and Assistant Professor
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
Tri-Service General Hospital and School of Medicine
National Defense Medical Center
Taipei, Taiwan

Tian-Shin Yeh, MD, MMS

Attending Physician
Department of Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation
National Taiwan University Hospital, Yun-Lin Branch
Yun-Lin, Taiwan
Graduate Institute of Clinical Medicine
National Taiwan University College of Medicine
Taipei, Taiwan
 Contributors xiii

Mauro Zampolini, MD
Chief
Department of Rehabilitation
Italian National Health Service, USL UMBRIA 2
Foligno, Perugia, Italy

Tunku Nor Taayah Tunku Zubir, MBBS

Consultant Rehabilitation Physician
Department of Rehabilitation
Gleneagles Hospital
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
This page intentionally left blank

     
Preface
Over the past 4 years, we have worked diligently with more than 200 authors from
across the international community to create (1) the fifth edition of the textbook
Braddom’s Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation and (2) Braddom’s Rehabilitation Care:
A Clinical Handbook. These complementary resources compile key elements of the
field of disability medicine, ranging from the basic sciences to clinical care. While
the Braddom’s textbook is the premier reference for all academicians and practitio-
ners in physical medicine and rehabilitation, this new clinical handbook represents
the first comprehensive practical guide for trainees and practitioners across all ele-
ments of health care. Any student or clinician who sees, evaluates, manages, or
refers individuals with disability should use this handbook as his or her key source
for information. Whether the patient is a young adult with an acute combat-related
musculoskeletal injury, a teen with a sports medicine injury, an elderly person with
joint or neurologic dysfunction, a child with specialized equipment needs, or a
middle-aged individual after a life-altering trauma, this text can serve as a guide
for each patient’s clinical care. In addition to practical information and clinical
pearls, this handbook also features accompanying online slides and training mate-
rials to enhance understanding, to serve as part of core educational modules, and
to expand on the key points of the text. We are indebted to the authors of Brad-
dom’s Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation for providing the comprehensive materials
from which this clinical handbook was abstracted, the more than 50 authors who
worked meticulously to develop this special edition, and the editorial support staff
at Elsevier. We are hopeful that this handbook will be used throughout the world
to support the training of health care professionals working with individuals with
disabilities and to enhance the clinical care of those individuals with disabilities. It
is a resource that we would see in any health care and training setting and used by
the full range of trainees and practitioners. We also welcome feedback from readers
and users of it to improve the quality and usability of future iterations and editions.

David X. Cifu, MD, and Henry L. Lew, MD, PhD

   xv
This page intentionally left blank

     
Foreword
There are more than 1 billion individuals with some degree of disability, physical or
mental, in the world, and there are a growing number of practicing clinicians and
trainees to assist them in achieving and maintaining their independence. However,
there has not been a single, easy-to-use clinical guide to specifically assist these
practitioners to optimize their care. This handbook brings together all the key ele-
ments of practical clinical care in physical and rehabilitation medicine found in the
fifth edition of Braddom’s Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation into a single, convenient
source. The compact size, clinical focus, and state-of-the-art online resources make
it the must-have guide. It has been designed to be invaluable at the bedside, in the
clinic, in the office, and even in the patient’s home. Written in a straightforward
style, supported by online slides, and packed with clinical pearls, this handbook
is perfect for the full range of professionals, from the beginning student to the
advanced practitioner. Created by two of the leading international educators in the
field of physical medicine and rehabilitation, Drs. David Cifu and Henry Lew, this
book was carefully compiled by more than 50 professionals in physical medicine
and rehabilitation from more than 25 countries across the globe to reflect the latest
in the field, while remaining consistent with the Braddom’s reference textbook. It is
truly the must-have resource for all trainees and clinicians who see individuals with
acute and chronic disabilities.

Jianan Li, MD, Immediate Past President, International Society of Physical

and Rehabilitation Medicine (ISPRM)
Jorge Lains, MD, President, ISPRM

   xvii
This page intentionally left blank

     
Contents
SECTION I EVALUATION

1 The Physiatric History and Physical Examination, 3

Shaw-Gang Shyu

2 History and Examination of the Pediatric Patient, 14

Chia-Wei Lin

3 Adult Neurogenic Communication and Swallowing Disorders, 18

Ming-Yen Hsiao

4 P sychological Assessment and Intervention in Rehabilitation, 24

Willy Chou

5 Practical Aspects of Impairment Rating and

Disability Determination, 28
Maria Gabriella Ceravolo

6 Employment of People with Disabilities, 34

Renald Peter Ty Ramiro

7 Quality and Outcome Measures for Medical Rehabilitation, 39

Elizabeth J. Halmai

8 Electrodiagnostic Medicine, 44
Chein-Wei Chang

SECTION II TREATMENT TECHNIQUES AND SPECIAL

EQUIPMENT

9 Rehabilitation and Prosthetic Restoration in Upper

Limb Amputation, 51
Joseph Burris

10 Lower Limb Amputation and Gait, 57

Matthew J. McLaughlin
11 Upper Limb Orthoses, 66
Chih-Kuang Chen

12 Lower Limb Orthoses, 75

Tze Yang Chung

13 Spinal Orthoses, 85
Wai-Keung Lee

   xix
xx Contents

14 Wheelchairs and Seating Systems, 92

Nazirah Hasnan

15 Therapeutic Exercise, 102

Rochelle Coleen Tan Dy

16 Manipulation, Traction, and Massage, 111

Reynaldo R. Rey-Matias

17 P hysical Agent Modalities, 119

Chueh-Hung Wu

18 Integrative Medicine in Rehabilitation, 126

Tian-Shin Yeh

19 Computer Assistive Devices and Environmental Controls, 129

Shih-Ching Chen

SECTION III COMMON CLINICAL PROBLEMS

20 B ladder Dysfunction, 137

Shih-Chung Chang

21 Neurogenic Bowel: Dysfunction and Rehabilitation, 143

Yu-Hui Huang

22 Sexual Dysfunction and Disability, 150

Tunku Nor Taayah Tunku Zubir

23 Spasticity, 157
Gerard E. Francisco

24 Chronic Wounds, 164

Julia Patrick Engkasan

25 Vascular Diseases, 173

Blessen C. Eapen

26 B urns, 178
Amaramalar Selvi Naicker

27 Acute Medical Conditions, 183

Norhayati Hussein

28 C
 hronic Medical Conditions: Pulmonary Disease, Organ
Transplantation, and Diabetes, 190
Chen-Liang Chou

29 Cancer Rehabilitation, 197

Vishwa S. Raj
 Contents xxi

30 The Geriatric Patient, 204

Mooyeon Oh-Park

31 Rheumatologic Rehabilitation, 208

Lin-Fen Hsieh

SECTION IV ISSUES IN SPECIFIC DIAGNOSES

32 Common Neck Problems, 216

Carl Chen

33 Low Back Pain, 228

Anwar Suhaimi

34 Osteoporosis, 238
Francesca Gimigliano

35 Upper Limb Pain and Dysfunction, 244

Eleftheria Antoniadou

36 Musculoskeletal Disorders of the Lower Limb, 248

Elena Milkova Ilieva

37 Chronic Pain, 257

Yung-Tsan Wu

38 Pelvic Floor Disorders, 264

Clarice N. Sinn

39 Sports Medicine and Adaptive Sports, 270

Joseph E. Herrera
40 Motor Neuron Diseases, 279
Lydia Abdul Latif

41 Rehabilitation of Patients With Neuropathies, 287

Yi-Chian Wang

42 Myopathy, 299
Ziad M. Hawamdeh

43 Traumatic Brain Injury, 305

Mazlina Mazlan

44 Stroke Syndromes, 315

Mauro Zampolini

45 D
 egenerative Movement Disorders of the Central
Nervous System, 319
Andrew Malcolm Dermot Cole
xxii Contents

46 Multiple Sclerosis, 324

Mohd Izmi Bin Ahmad

47 Cerebral Palsy, 331

Desiree L. Roge

48 Myelomeningocele and Other Spinal Dysraphisms, 338

Rashidah Ismail Ohnmar Htwe

49 Spinal Cord Injury, 345

Chen-Yu Hung

50 Auditory, Vestibular, and Visual Impairments, 355

Ding-Hao Liu
Video Contents
SECTION II TREATMENT TECHNIQUES AND SPECIAL
EQUIPMENT

16 Manipulation, Traction, and Massage

Video 16.1. M uscle Energy Technique

17 P hysical Agent Modalities

Video 17.1. Paraffin Bath

SECTION III COMMON CLINICAL PROBLEMS

25 Vascular Diseases
Video 25.1. M onophasic Ar terial Doppler Waveform

31 Rheumatologic Rehabilitation
Video 31.1. Feeding Training with Putty

SECTION IV ISSUES IN SPECIFIC DIAGNOSES

36 Musculoskeletal Disorders of the Lower Limb

Video 36.1. L achman Test

45 Degenerative Movement Disorders of the Central Nervous System

Video 45.1. C arbidopa- and Levodopa-Induced Dyskinesia

   xxiii
This page intentionally left blank

     
 BRADDOM’S
REHABILITATION
CARE
A Clinical Handbook
This page intentionally left blank

     
 SECTION 1
EVALUATION

1 The Physiatric History and Physical Examination

Shaw-Gang Shyu

2 History and Examination of the Pediatric Patient

Chia-Wei Lin

3 Adult Neurogenic Communication and Swallowing Disorders

Ming-Yen Hsiao

4 Psychological Assessment and Intervention in Rehabilitation

Willy Chou

5 Practical Aspects of Impairment Rating and Disability Determination

Maria Gabriella Ceravolo

6 Employment of People with Disabilities

Renald Peter Ty Ramiro

7 Quality and Outcome Measures for Medical Rehabilitation

Elizabeth J. Halmai

8 Electrodiagnostic Medicine
Chein-Wei Chang

   1
Exploring the Variety of Random
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after Saint-Loup had told me various anecdotes about his cousin’s
chaplain, her gardener, and the rest, the Hôtel de Guermantes had
become—as the Louvre might have been in days gone by—a kind of
castle, surrounded, in the very heart of Paris, by its own domains,
acquired by inheritance, by virtue of an ancient right that had quaintly
survived, over which she still enjoyed feudal privileges. But this last
dwelling itself vanished when we had come to live beside Mme. de
Villeparisis in one of the flats adjoining that occupied by Mme. de
Guermantes in a wing of the Hôtel. It was one of those old town
houses, a few of which are perhaps still to be found, in which the
court of honour—whether they were alluvial deposits washed there
by the rising tide of democracy, or a legacy from a more primitive
time when the different trades were clustered round the overlord—is
flanked by little shops and workrooms, a shoemaker’s, for instance,
or a tailor’s, such as we see nestling between the buttresses of
those cathedrals which the aesthetic zeal of the restorer has not
swept clear of such accretions; a porter who also does cobbling,
keeps hens, grows flowers, and, at the far end, in the main building,
a “Comtesse” who, when she drives out in her old carriage and pair,
flaunting on her hat a few nasturtiums which seem to have escaped
from the plot by the porter’s lodge (with, by the coachman’s side on
the box, a footman who gets down to leave cards at every
aristocratic mansion in the neighbourhood), scatters vague little
smiles and waves her hand in greeting to the porter’s children and to
such of her respectable fellow-tenants as may happen to be passing,
who, to her contemptuous affability and levelling pride, seem all the
same.
In the house in which we had now come to live, the great lady at
the end of the courtyard was a Duchess, smart and still quite young.
She was, in fact, Mme. de Guermantes and, thanks to Françoise, I
soon came to know all about her household. For the Guermantes (to
whom Françoise regularly alluded as the people “below”, or
“downstairs”) were her constant preoccupation from the first thing in
the morning when, as she did Mamma’s hair, casting a forbidden,
irresistible, furtive glance down into the courtyard, she would say:
“Look at that, now; a pair of holy Sisters; that’ll be for downstairs,
surely;” or, “Oh! just look at the fine pheasants in the kitchen window;
no need to ask where they came from, the Duke will have been out
with his gun!”—until the last thing at night when, if her ear, while she
was putting out my night-things, caught a few notes of a song, she
would conclude: “They’re having company down below; gay doings,
I’ll be bound;” whereupon, in her symmetrical face, beneath the arch
of her now snow-white hair, a smile from her young days, sprightly
but proper, would for a moment set each of her features in its place,
arranging them in an intricate and special order, as though for a
country-dance.
But the moment in the life of the Guermantes which excited the
keenest interest in Françoise, gave her the most complete
satisfaction and at the same time the sharpest annoyance was that
at which, the two halves of the great gate having been thrust apart,
the Duchess stepped into her carriage. It was generally a little while
after our servants had finished the celebration of that sort of solemn
passover which none might disturb, called their midday dinner,
during which they were so far taboo that my father himself was not
allowed to ring for them, knowing moreover that none of them would
have paid any more attention to the fifth peal than to the first, and
that the discourtesy would therefore have been a pure waste of time
and trouble, though not without trouble in store for himself. For
Françoise (who, in her old age, lost no opportunity of standing upon
her dignity) would without fail have presented him, for the rest of the
day, with a face covered with the tiny red cuneiform hieroglyphs by
which she made visible—though by no means legible—to the outer
world the long tale of her griefs and the profound reasons for her
dissatisfactions. She would enlarge upon them, too, in a running
“aside”, but not so that we could catch her words. She called this
practice—which, she imagined, must be infuriating, “mortifying” as
she herself put it, “vexing” to us—“saying low masses all the blessed
day.”
The last rites accomplished, Françoise, who was at one and the
same time, as in the primitive church, the celebrant and one of the
faithful, helped herself to a final glass, undid the napkin from her
throat, folded it after wiping from her lips a stain of watered wine and
coffee, slipped it into its ring, turned a doleful eye to thank “her”
young footman who, to shew his zeal in her service, was saying:
“Come, ma’am, a drop more of the grape; it’s d’licious to-day,” and
went straight across to the window, which she flung open, protesting
that it was too hot to breathe in “this wretched kitchen”. Dexterously
casting, as she turned the latch and let in the fresh air, a glance of
studied indifference into the courtyard below, she furtively elicited the
conclusion that the Duchess was not ready yet to start, brooded for a
moment with contemptuous, impassioned eyes over the waiting
carriage, and, this meed of attention once paid to the things of the
earth, raised them towards the heavens, whose purity she had
already divined from the sweetness of the air and the warmth of the
sun; and let them rest on a corner of the roof, at the place where,
every spring, there came and built, immediately over the chimney of
my bedroom, a pair of pigeons like those she used to hear cooing
from her kitchen at Combray.
“Ah! Combray, Combray!” she cried. And the almost singing tone
in which she declaimed this invocation might, taken with the Arlesian
purity of her features, have made the onlooker suspect her of a
Southern origin and that the lost land which she was lamenting was
no more, really, than a land of adoption. If so, he would have been
wrong, for it seems that there is no province that has not its own
South-country; do we not indeed constantly meet Savoyards and
Bretons in whose speech we find all those pleasing transpositions of
longs and shorts that are characteristic of the Southerner? “Ah,
Combray, when shall I look on thee again, poor land! When shall I
pass the blessed day among thy hawthorns, under our own poor lily-
oaks, hearing the grasshoppers sing, and the Vivonne making a little
noise like someone whispering, instead of that wretched bell from
our young master, who can never stay still for half an hour on end
without having me run the length of that wicked corridor. And even
then he makes out I don’t come quick enough; you’ld need to hear
the bell ring before he has pulled it, and if you’re a minute late, away
he flies into the most towering rage. Alas, poor Combray; maybe I
shall see thee only in death, when they drop me like a stone into the
hollow of the tomb. And so, nevermore shall I smell thy lovely
hawthorns, so white and all. But in the sleep of death I dare say I
shall still hear those three peals of the bell which will have driven me
to damnation in this world.”
Her soliloquy was interrupted by the voice of the waistcoat-maker
downstairs, the same who had so delighted my grandmother once,
long ago, when she had gone to pay a call on Mme. de Villeparisis,
and now occupied no less exalted a place in Françoise’s affections.
Having raised his head when he heard our window open, he had
already been trying for some time to attract his neighbour’s attention,
in order to bid her good day. The coquetry of the young girl that
Françoise had once been softened and refined for M. Jupien the
querulous face of our old cook, dulled by age, ill-temper and the heat
of the kitchen fire, and it was with a charming blend of reserve,
familiarity and modesty that she bestowed a gracious salutation on
the waistcoat-maker, but without making any audible response, for if
she did infringe Mamma’s orders by looking into the courtyard, she
would never have dared to go the length of talking from the window,
which would have been quite enough (according to her) to bring
down on her “a whole chapter” from the Mistress. She pointed to the
waiting carriage, as who should say: “A fine pair, eh!” though what
she actually muttered was: “What an old rattle-trap!” but principally
because she knew that he would be bound to answer, putting his
hand to his lips so as to be audible without having to shout:
“You could have one too if you liked, as good as they have and
better, I dare say, only you don’t care for that sort of thing.”
And Françoise, after a modest, evasive signal of delight, the
meaning of which was, more or less: “Tastes differ, you know;
simplicity’s the rule in this house,” shut the window again in case
Mamma should come in. These “you” who might have had more
horses than the Guermantes were ourselves, but Jupien was right in
saying “you” since, except for a few purely personal gratifications,
such as, when she coughed all day long without ceasing and
everyone in the house was afraid of catching her cold, that of
pretending, with an irritating little titter, that she had not got a cold,
like those plants that an animal to which they are wholly attached
keeps alive with food which it catches, eats and digests for them and
of which it offers them the ultimate and easily assimilable residue,
Françoise lived with us in full community; it was we who, with our
virtues, our wealth, our style of living, must take on ourselves the
task of concocting those little sops to her vanity out of which was
formed—with the addition of the recognised rights of freely practising
the cult of the midday dinner according to the traditional custom,
which included a mouthful of air at the window when the meal was
finished, a certain amount of loitering in the street when she went out
to do her marketing, and a holiday on Sundays when she paid a visit
to her niece—the portion of happiness indispensable to her
existence. And so it can be understood that Françoise might well
have succumbed in those first days of our migration, a victim, in a
house where my father’s claims to distinction were not yet known, to
a malady which she herself called “wearying”, wearying in the active
sense in which the word ennui is employed by Corneille, or in the
last letters of soldiers who end by taking their own lives because
they are wearying for their girls or for their native villages.
Françoise’s wearying had soon been cured by none other than
Jupien, for he at once procured her a pleasure no less keen, indeed
more refined than she would have felt if we had decided to keep a
carriage. “Very good class, those Juliens,” (for Françoise readily
assimilated new names to those with which she was already familiar)
“very worthy people; you can see it written on their faces.” Jupien
was in fact able to understand, and to inform the world that if we did
not keep a carriage it was because we had no wish for one. This
new friend of Françoise was very little at home, having obtained a
post in one of the Government offices. A waistcoat-maker first of all,
with the “chit of a girl” whom my grandmother had taken for his
daughter, he had lost all interest in the exercise of that calling after
his assistant (who, when still little more than a child, had shewn
great skill in darning a torn skirt, that day when my grandmother had
gone to call on Mme. de Villeparisis) had turned to ladies’ fashions
and become a seamstress. A prentice hand, to begin with, in a
dressmaker’s workroom, set to stitch a seam, to fasten a flounce, to
sew on a button or to press a crease, to fix a waistband with hooks
and eyes, she had quickly risen to be second and then chief
assistant, and having formed a connexion of her own among ladies
of fashion now worked at home, that is to say in our courtyard,
generally with one or two of her young friends from the workroom,
whom she had taken on as apprentices. After this, Jupien’s presence
in the place had ceased to matter. No doubt the little girl (a big girl by
this time) had often to cut out waistcoats still. But with her friends to
assist her she needed no one besides. And so Jupien, her uncle,
had sought employment outside. He was free at first to return home
at midday, then, when he had definitely succeeded the man whose
substitute only he had begun by being, not before dinner-time. His
appointment to the “regular establishment” was, fortunately, not
announced until some weeks after our arrival, so that his courtesy
could be brought to bear on her long enough to help Françoise to
pass through the first, most difficult phase without undue suffering.
At the same time, and without underrating his value to Françoise as,
so to speak, a sedative during the period of transition, I am bound to
say that my first impression of Jupien had been far from favourable.
At a little distance, entirely ruining the effect that his plump cheeks
and vivid colouring would otherwise have produced, his eyes,
brimming with a compassionate, mournful, dreamy gaze, led one to
suppose that he was seriously ill or had just suffered a great
bereavement. Not only was he nothing of the sort, but as soon as he
opened his mouth (and his speech, by the way, was perfect) he was
quite markedly cynical and cold. There resulted from this discord
between eyes and lips a certain falsity which was not attractive, and
by which he had himself the air of being made as uncomfortable as a
guest who arrives in morning dress at a party where everyone else is
in evening dress, or as a commoner who having to speak to a Royal
Personage does not know exactly how he ought to address him and
gets round the difficulty by cutting down his remarks to almost
nothing. Jupien’s (here the comparison ends) were, on the contrary,
charming. Indeed, corresponding possibly to this overflowing of his
face by his eyes (which one ceased to notice when one came to
know him), I soon discerned in him a rare intellect, and one of the
most spontaneously literary that it has been my privilege to come
across, in the sense that, probably without education, he possessed
or had assimilated, with the help only of a few books skimmed in
early life, the most ingenious turns of speech. The most gifted people
that I had known had died young. And so I was convinced that
Jupien’s life would soon be cut short. Kindness was among his
qualities, and pity, the most delicate and the most generous feelings
for others. But his part in the life of Françoise had soon ceased to be
indispensable. She had learned to put up with understudies.
Indeed, when a tradesman or servant came to our door with a
parcel or message, while seeming to pay no attention and merely
pointing vaguely to an empty chair, Françoise so skilfully put to the
best advantage the few seconds that he spent in the kitchen, while
he waited for Mamma’s answer, that it was very seldom that the
stranger went away without having ineradicably engraved upon his
memory the conviction that, if we “did not have” any particular thing,
it was because we had “no wish” for it. If she made such a point of
other people’s knowing that we “had money” (for she knew nothing
of what Saint-Loup used to call partitive articles, and said simply
“have money”, “fetch water”), of their realising that we were rich, it
was not because riches with nothing else besides, riches without
virtue, were in her eyes the supreme good in life; but virtue without
riches was not her ideal either. Riches were for her, so to speak, a
necessary condition of virtue, failing which virtue itself would lack
both merit and charm. She distinguished so little between them that
she had come in time to invest each with the other’s attributes, to
expect some material comfort from virtue, to discover something
edifying in riches.
As soon as she had shut the window again, which she did quickly
—otherwise Mamma would, it appeared, have heaped on her “every
conceivable insult”—Françoise began with many groans and sighs to
put straight the kitchen table.
“There are some Guermantes who stay in the Rue de la Chaise,”
began my father’s valet; “I had a friend who used to be with them; he
was their second coachman. And I know a fellow, not my old pal, but
his brother-in-law, who did his time in the Army with one of the Baron
de Guermantes’s stud grooms. Does your mother know you’re out?”
added the valet, who was in the habit, just as he used to hum the
popular airs of the season, of peppering his conversation with all the
latest witticisms.
Françoise, with the tired eyes of an ageing woman, eyes which
moreover saw everything from Combray, in a hazy distance, made
out not the witticism that underlay the words, but that there must be
something witty in them since they bore no relation to the rest of his
speech and had been uttered with considerable emphasis by one
whom she knew to be a joker. She smiled at him, therefore, with an
air of benevolent bewilderment, as who should say: “Always the
same, that Victor!” And she was genuinely pleased, knowing that
listening to smart sayings of this sort was akin—if remotely—to those
reputable social pleasures for which, in every class of society, people
make haste to dress themselves in their best and run the risk of
catching cold. Furthermore, she believed the valet to be a friend after
her own heart, for he never left off denouncing, with fierce
indignation, the appalling measures which the Republic was about to
enforce against the clergy. Françoise had not yet learned that our
cruellest adversaries are not those who contradict and try to
convince us, but those who magnify or invent reports which may
make us unhappy, taking care not to include any appearance of
justification, which might lessen our discomfort, and perhaps give us
some slight regard for a party which they make a point of displaying
to us, to complete our torment, as being at once terrible and
triumphant.
“The Duchess must be connected with all that lot,” said Françoise,
bringing the conversation back to the Guermantes of the Rue de la
Chaise, as one plays a piece over again from the andante. “I can’t
recall who it was told me that one of them had married a cousin of
the Duke. It’s the same kindred, anyway. Ay, they’re a great family,
the Guermantes!” she added, in a tone of respect, founding the
greatness of the family at once on the number of its branches and
the brilliance of its connexions, as Pascal founds the truth of Religion
on Reason and on the Authority of the Scriptures. For since there
was but the single word “great” to express both meanings, it seemed
to her that they formed a single idea, her vocabulary, like cut stones
sometimes, shewing thus on certain of its facets a flaw which
projected a ray of darkness into the recesses of her mind. “I wonder
now if it wouldn’t be them that have their castle at Guermantes, not a
score of miles from Combray; then they must be kin to their cousin at
Algiers, too.” My mother and I long asked ourselves who this cousin
at Algiers could be until finally we discovered that Françoise meant
by the name “Algiers” the town of Angers. What is far off may be
more familiar to us than what is quite near. Françoise, who knew the
name “Algiers” from some particularly unpleasant dates that used to
be given us at the New Year, had never heard of Angers. Her
language, like the French language itself, and especially that of
place-names, was thickly strewn with errors. “I meant to talk to their
butler about it. What is it again you call him?” she interrupted herself
as though putting a formal question as to the correct procedure,
which she went on to answer with: “Oh, of course, it’s Antoine you
call him!” as though Antoine had been a title. “He’s the one who
could tell me, but he’s quite the gentleman, he is, a great scholar,
you’ld say they’d cut his tongue out, or that he’d forgotten to learn to
speak. He makes no response when you talk to him,” went on
Françoise, who used “make response” in the same sense as Mme.
de Sévigné. “But,” she added, quite untruthfully, “so long as I know
what’s boiling in my pot, I don’t bother my head about what’s in other
people’s. Whatever he is, he’s not a Catholic. Besides, he’s not a
courageous man.” (This criticism might have led one to suppose that
Françoise had changed her mind about physical bravery which,
according to her, in Combray days, lowered men to the level of wild
beasts. But it was not so. “Courageous” meant simply a hard
worker.) “They do say, too, that he’s thievish as a magpie, but it
doesn’t do to believe all one hears. The servants never stay long
there because of the lodge; the porters are jealous and set the
Duchess against them. But it’s safe to say that he’s a real twister,
that Antoine, and his Antoinesse is no better,” concluded Françoise,
who, in furnishing the name “Antoine” with a feminine ending that
would designate the butler’s wife, was inspired, no doubt, in her act
of word-formation by an unconscious memory of the words chanoine
and chanoinesse. If so, she was not far wrong. There is still a street
near Notre-Dame called Rue Chanoinesse, a name which must have
been given to it (since it was never inhabited by any but male
Canons) by those Frenchmen of olden days of whom Françoise was,
properly speaking, the contemporary. She proceeded, moreover, at
once to furnish another example of this way of forming feminine
endings, for she went on: “But one thing sure and certain is that it’s
the Duchess that has Guermantes Castle. And it’s she that is the
Lady Mayoress down in those parts. That’s always something.”
“I can well believe that it is something,” came with conviction from
the footman, who had not detected the irony.
“You think so, do you, my boy, you think it’s something? Why, for
folk like them to be Mayor and Mayoress, it’s just thank you for
nothing. Ah, if it was mine, that Guermantes Castle, you wouldn’t see
me setting foot in Paris, I can tell you. I’m sure a family who’ve got
something to go on with, like Monsieur and Madame here, must
have queer ideas to stay on in this wretched town rather than get
away down to Combray the moment they’re free to start, and no one
hindering them. Why do they put off retiring? They’ve got everything
they want. Why wait till they’re dead? Ah, if I had only a crust of dry
bread to eat and a faggot to keep me warm in winter, a fine time I’ld
have of it at home in my brother’s poor old house at Combray. Down
there you do feel you’re alive; you haven’t all these houses stuck up
in front of you, there is so little noise at night-time, you can hear the
frogs singing five miles off and more.”
“That must indeed be fine!” exclaimed the young footman with
enthusiasm, as though this last attraction had been as peculiar to
Combray as the gondola is to Venice. A more recent arrival in the
household than my father’s valet, he used to talk to Françoise about
things which might interest not himself so much as her. And
Françoise, whose face wrinkled up in disgust when she was treated
as a mere cook, had for the young footman, who referred to her
always as the “housekeeper”, that peculiar tenderness which Princes
not of the blood royal feel towards the well-meaning young men who
dignify them with a “Highness”.
“At any rate one knows what one’s about, there, and what time of
year it is. It isn’t like here where you won’t find one wretched
buttercup flowering at holy Easter any more than you would at
Christmas, and I can’t hear so much as the tiniest angelus ring when
I lift my old bones out of bed in the morning. Down there, you can
hear every hour; there’s only the one poor bell, but you say to
yourself: ‘My brother will be coming in from the field now,’ and you
watch the daylight fade, and the bell rings to bless the fruits of the
earth, and you have time to take a turn before you light the lamp. But
here it’s day time and it’s night time, and you go to bed, and you
can’t say any more than the dumb beasts what you’ve been about all
day.”
“I gather Méséglise is a fine place, too, Madame,” broke in the
young footman, who found that the conversation was becoming a
little too abstract for his liking, and happened to remember having
heard us, at table, mention Méséglise.
“Oh! Méséglise, is it?” said Françoise with the broad smile which
one could always bring to her lips by uttering any of those names—
Méséglise, Combray, Tansonville. They were so intimate a part of her
life that she felt, on meeting them outside it, on hearing them used in
conversation, a hilarity more or less akin to that which a professor
excites in his class by making an allusion to some contemporary
personage whose name the students had never supposed could
possibly greet their ears from the height of the academic chair. Her
pleasure arose also from the feeling that these places were
something to her which they were not for the rest of the world, old
companions with whom one has shared many delights; and she
smiled at them as if she found in them something witty, because she
did find there a great part of herself.
“Yes, you may well say so, son, it is a pretty enough place is
Méséglise;” she went on with a tinkling laugh, “but how did you ever
come to hear tell of Méséglise?”
“How did I hear of Méséglise? But it’s a well-known place; people
have told me about it—yes, over and over again,” he assured her
with that criminal inexactitude of the informer who, whenever we
attempt to form an impartial estimate of the importance that a thing
which matters to us may have for other people, makes it impossible
for us to succeed.
“I can tell you, it’s better down there, under the cherry-trees, than
standing before the fire all day.”
She spoke to them even of Eulalie as a good person. For since
Eulalie’s death Françoise had completely forgotten that she had
loved her as little in her life time as she loved every one whose
cupboard was bare, who was dying of hunger, and after that came,
like a good for nothing, thanks to the bounty of the rich, to “put on
airs”. It no longer pained her that Eulalie had so skilfully managed,
Sunday after Sunday, to secure her “trifle” from my aunt. As for the
latter, Françoise never left off singing her praises.
“But it was at Combray, surely, that you used to be, with a cousin
of Madame?” asked the young footman.
“Yes, with Mme. Octave—oh, a dear, good, holy woman, my poor
friends, and a house where there was always enough and to spare,
and all of the very best, a good woman, you may well say, who had
no pity on the partridges, or the pheasants, or anything; you might
turn up five to dinner or six, it was never the meat that was lacking,
and of the first quality too, and white wine, and red wine, and
everything you could wish.” (Françoise used the word “pity” in the
sense given it by La Bruyère.) “It was she that paid the damages,
always, even if the family stayed for months and years.” (This
reflexion was not really a slur upon us, for Françoise belonged to an
epoch when the word “damages” was not restricted to a legal use
and meant simply expense.) “Ah, I can tell you, people didn’t go
empty away from that house. As his reverence the Curé has told us,
many’s the time, if there ever was a woman who could count on
going straight before the Throne of God, it was she. Poor Madame, I
can hear her saying now, in the little voice she had: ‘You know,
Françoise, I can eat nothing myself, but I want it all to be just as nice
for the others as if I could.’ They weren’t for her, the victuals, you
may be quite sure. If you’d only seen her, she weighed no more than
a bag of cherries; there wasn’t that much of her. She would never
listen to a word I said, she would never send for the doctor. Ah, it
wasn’t in that house that you’ld have to gobble down your dinner.
She liked her servants to be fed properly. Here, it’s been just the
same again to-day; we haven’t had time for so much as to break a
crust of bread; everything goes like ducks and drakes.”
What annoyed her more than anything were the rusks of pulled
bread that my father used to eat. She was convinced that he had
them simply to give himself airs and to keep her “dancing”. “I can tell
you frankly,” the young footman assured her, “that I never saw the
like.” He said it as if he had seen everything, and as if in him the
range of a millennial experience extended over all countries and their
customs, among which was not anywhere to be found a custom of
eating pulled bread. “Yes, yes,” the butler muttered, “but that will all
be changed; the men are going on strike in Canada, and the Minister
told Monsieur the other evening that he’s clearing two hundred
thousand francs out of it.” There was no note of censure in his tone,
not that he was not himself entirely honest, but since he regarded all
politicians as unsound the crime of peculation seemed to him less
serious than the pettiest larceny. He did not even stop to ask himself
whether he had heard this historic utterance aright, and was not
struck by the improbability that such a thing would have been
admitted by the guilty party himself to my father without my father’s
immediately turning him out of the house. But the philosophy of
Combray made it impossible for Françoise to expect that the strikes
in Canada could have any repercussion on the use of pulled bread.
“So long as the world goes round, look, there’ll be masters to keep
us on the trot, and servants to do their bidding.” In disproof of this
theory of perpetual motion, for the last quarter of an hour my mother
(who probably did not employ the same measures of time as
Françoise in reckoning the duration of the latter’s dinner) had been
saying:
“What on earth can they be doing? They’ve been at least two
hours at their dinner.”
And she rang timidly three or four times. Françoise, “her” footman,
the butler heard the bell ring, not as a summons to themselves, and
with no thought of answering it, but rather like the first sounds of the
instruments being tuned when the next part of a concert is just going
to begin, and one knows that there will be only a few minutes more
of interval. And so, when the peals were repeated and became more
urgent, our servants began to pay attention, and, judging that they
had not much time left and that the resumption of work was at hand,
at a peal somewhat louder than the rest gave a collective sigh and
went their several ways, the footman slipping downstairs to smoke a
cigarette outside the door, Françoise, after a string of reflexions on
ourselves, such as: “They’ve got the jumps to-day, surely,” going up
to put her things tidy in her attic, while the butler, having supplied
himself first with note-paper from my bedroom, polished off the
arrears of his private correspondence.
Despite the apparent stiffness of their butler, Françoise had been
in a position, from the first, to inform me that the Guermantes
occupied their mansion by virtue not of an immemorial right but of a
quite recent tenancy, and that the garden over which it looked on the
side that I did not know was quite small and just like all the gardens
along the street; and I realised at length that there were not to be
seen there pit and gallows or fortified mill, secret chamber, pillared
dovecot, manorial bakehouse or tithe-barn, dungeon or drawbridge,
or fixed bridge either for that matter, any more than toll-houses or
pinnacles, charters, muniments, ramparts or commemorative
mounds. But just as Elstir, when the bay of Balbec, losing its
mystery, had become for me simply a portion, interchangeable with
any other, of the total quantity of salt water distributed over the
earth’s surface, had suddenly restored to it a personality of its own
by telling me that it was the gulf of opal painted by Whistler in his
“Harmonies in Blue and Silver”, so the name Guermantes had seen
perish under the strokes of Françoise’s hammer the last of the
dwellings that had issued from its syllables when one day an old
friend of my father said to us, speaking of the Duchess: “She is the
first lady in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; hers is the leading house in
the Faubourg Saint-German.” No doubt the most exclusive drawing-
room, the leading house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain was little or
nothing after all those other mansions of which in turn I had
dreamed. And yet in this one too, (and it was to be the last of the
series) there was something, however humble, quite apart from its
material components, a secret differentiation.
And it became all the more essential that I should be able to
explore in the drawing-room of Mme. de Guermantes, among her
friends, the mystery of her name, since I did not find it in her person
when I saw her leave the house in the morning on foot, or in the
afternoon in her carriage. Once before, indeed, in the church at
Combray, she had appeared to me in the blinding flash of a
transfiguration, with cheeks irreducible to, impenetrable by the colour
of the name Guermantes and of afternoons on the banks of the
Vivonne, taking the place of my shattered dream like a swan or
willow into which has been changed a god or nymph, and which
henceforward, subjected to natural laws, will glide over the water or
be shaken by the wind. And yet, when that radiance had vanished,
hardly had I lost sight of it before it formed itself again, like the green
and rosy afterglow of sunset after the sweep of the oar that has
broken it, and in the solitude of my thoughts the name had quickly
appropriated to itself my impression of the face. But now, frequently,
I saw her at her window, in the courtyard, in the street, and for myself
at least if I did not succeed in integrating in her the name
Guermantes, I cast the blame on the impotence of my mind to
accomplish the whole act that I demanded of it; but she, our
neighbour, she seemed to make the same error, nay more to make it
without discomfiture, without any of my scruples, without even
suspecting that it was an error. Thus Mme. de Guermantes shewed
in her dresses the same anxiety to follow the fashions as if, believing
herself to have become simply a woman like all the rest, she had
aspired to that elegance in her attire in which other ordinary women
might equal and perhaps surpass her; I had seen her in the street
gaze admiringly at a well-dressed actress; and in the morning,
before she sallied forth on foot, as if the opinion of the passers-by,
whose vulgarity she accentuated by parading familiarly through their
midst her inaccessible life, could be a tribunal competent to judge
her, I would see her before the glass playing, with a conviction free
from all pretence or irony, with passion, with ill-humour, with conceit,
like a queen who has consented to appear as a servant-girl in
theatricals at court, this part, so unworthy of her, of a fashionable
woman; and in this mythological oblivion of her natural grandeur, she
looked to see whether her veil was hanging properly, smoothed her
cuffs, straightened her cloak, as the celestial swan performs all the
movements natural to his animal species, keeps his eyes painted on
either side of his beak without putting into them any glint of life, and
darts suddenly after a bud or an umbrella, as a swan would, without
remembering that he is a god. But as the traveller, disappointed by
the first appearance of a strange town, reminds himself that he will
doubtless succeed in penetrating its charm if he visits its museums
and galleries, so I assured myself that, had I been given the right of
entry into Mme. de Guermantes’s house, were I one of her friends,
were I to penetrate into her life, I should then know what, within its
glowing orange-tawny envelope, her name did really, objectively
enclose for other people, since, after all, my father’s friend had said
that the Guermantes set was something quite by itself in the
Faubourg Saint-Germain.
The life which I supposed them to lead there flowed from a source
so different from anything in my experience, and must, I felt, be so
indissolubly associated with that particular house that I could not
have imagined the presence, at the Duchess’s parties, of people in
whose company I myself had already been, of people who really
existed. For not being able suddenly to change their nature, they
would have carried on conversations there of the sort that I knew;
their partners would perhaps have stooped to reply to them in the
same human speech; and, in the course of an evening spent in the
leading house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, there would have
been moments identical with moments that I had already lived.
Which was impossible. It was thus that my mind was embarrassed
by certain difficulties, and the Presence of Our Lord’s Body in the
Host seemed to me no more obscure a mystery than this leading
house in the Faubourg, situated here, on the right bank of the river,
and so near that from my bed, in the morning, I could hear its
carpets being beaten. But the line of demarcation that separated me
from the Faubourg Saint-Germain seemed to me all the more real
because it was purely ideal. I felt clearly that it was already part of
the Faubourg, when I saw the Guermantes doormat, spread out
beyond that intangible Equator, of which my mother had made bold
to say, having like myself caught a glimpse of it one day when their
door stood open, that it was in a shocking state. For the rest, how
could their dining-room, their dim gallery upholstered in red plush,
into which I could see sometimes from our kitchen window, have
failed to possess in my eyes the mysterious charm of the Faubourg
Saint-Germain, to form part of it in an essential fashion, to be
geographically situated within it, since to have been entertained to
dinner in that room was to have gone into the Faubourg Saint-
Germain, to have breathed its atmosphere, since the people who,
before going to table, sat down by the side of Mme. de Guermantes
on the leather-covered sofa in that gallery were all of the Faubourg
Saint-Germain. No doubt elsewhere than in the Faubourg, at certain
parties, one might see now and then, majestically enthroned amid
the vulgar herd of fashion, one of those men who were mere names
and varyingly assumed, when one tried to form a picture of them, the
aspect of a tournament or of a royal forest. But here, in the leading
house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, in the drawing-room, in the
dim gallery, there were only they. They were, wrought of precious
materials, the columns that upheld the temple. Indeed for quiet
family parties it was from among them only that Mme. de
Guermantes might select her guests, and in the dinners for twelve,
gathered around the dazzling napery and plate, they were like the
golden statues of the Apostles in the Sainte-Chapelle, symbolic,
consecrative pillars before the Holy Table. As for the tiny strip of
garden that stretched between high walls at the back of the house,
where on summer evenings Mme. de Guermantes had liqueurs and
orangeade brought out after dinner, how could I not have felt that to
sit there of an evening, between nine and eleven, on its iron chairs—
endowed with a magic as potent as the leathern sofa—without
inhaling the breezes peculiar to the Faubourg Saint-Germain was as
impossible as to take a siesta in the oasis of Figuig without thereby
being necessarily in Africa. Only imagination and belief can
differentiate from the rest certain objects, certain people, and can
create an atmosphere. Alas, those picturesque sites, those natural
accidents, those local curiosities, those works of art of the Faubourg
Saint-Germain, never probably should I be permitted to set my feet
among them. And I must content myself with a shiver of excitement
as I sighted, from the deep sea (and without the least hope of ever
landing there) like an outstanding minaret, like the first palm, like the
first signs of some exotic industry or vegetation, the well-trodden
doormat of its shore.
But if the Hôtel de Guermantes began for me at its hall-door, its
dependencies must be regarded as extending a long way farther,
according to the Duke, who, looking on all the other tenants as
farmers, peasants, purchasers of forfeited estates, whose opinion
was of no account, shaved himself every morning in his nightshirt at
the window, came down into the courtyard, according to the warmth
or coldness of the day, in his shirt-sleeves, in pyjamas, in a plaid
coat of startling colours, with a shaggy nap, in little light-coloured
covert coats shorter than the jackets beneath, and made one of his
grooms lead past him at a trot some horse that he had just been
buying. More than once, indeed, the horse broke the window of
Jupien’s shop, whereupon Jupien, to the Duke’s indignation,
demanded compensation. “If it were only in consideration of all the
good that Madame la Duchesse does in the house, here, and in the
parish,” said M. de Guermantes, “it is an outrage on this fellow’s part
to claim a penny from us.” But Jupien had stuck to his point,
apparently not having the faintest idea what “good” the Duchess had
ever done. And yet she did do good, but—since one cannot do good
to everybody at once—the memory of the benefits that we have
heaped on one person is a valid reason for our abstaining from
helping another, whose discontent we thereby make all the stronger.
From other points of view than that of charity the quarter appeared to
the Duke—and this over a considerable area—to be only an
extension of his courtyard, a longer track for his horses. After seeing
how a new acquisition trotted by itself he would have it harnessed
and taken through all the neighbouring streets, the groom running
beside the carriage holding the reins, making it pass to and fro
before the Duke who stood on the pavement, erect, gigantic,
enormous in his vivid clothes, a cigar between his teeth, his head in
the air, his eyeglass scrutinous, until the moment when he sprang on
to the box, drove the horse up and down for a little to try it, then set
off with his new turn-out to pick up his mistress in the Champs-
Elysées. M. de Guermantes bade good day, before leaving the
courtyard, to two couples who belonged more or less to his world;
the first, some cousins of his who, like working-class parents, were
never at home to look after their children, since every morning the
wife went off to the Schola to study counterpoint and fugue, and the
husband to his studio to carve wood and beat leather; and after them
the Baron and Baronne de Norpois, always dressed in black, she like
a pew-opener and he like a mute at a funeral, who emerged several
times daily on their way to church. They were the nephew and niece
of the old Ambassador who was our friend, and whom my father had,
in fact, met at the foot of the staircase without realising from where
he came; for my father supposed that so important a personage, one
who had come in contact with the most eminent men in Europe and
was probably quite indifferent to the empty distinctions of rank, was
hardly likely to frequent the society of these obscure, clerical and
narrow-minded nobles. They had not been long in the place; Jupien,
who had come out into the courtyard to say a word to the husband
just as he was greeting M. de Guermantes, called him “M. Norpois,”
not being certain of his name.
“Monsieur Norpois, indeed! Oh, that really is good! Just wait a
little! This individual will be calling you Comrade Norpois next!”
exclaimed M. de Guermantes, turning to the Baron. He was at last
able to vent his spleen against Jupien who addressed him as
“Monsieur,” instead of “Monsieur le Duc.”
One day when M. de Guermantes required some information upon
a matter of which my father had professional knowledge, he had
introduced himself to him with great courtesy. After that, he had often
some neighbourly service to ask of my father and, as soon as he
saw him begin to come downstairs, his mind occupied with his work
and anxious to avoid any interruption, the Duke, leaving his stable-
boys, would come up to him in the courtyard, straighten the collar of
his great-coat, with the serviceable deftness inherited from a line of
royal body-servants in days gone by, take him by the hand, and,
holding it in his own, patting it even to prove to my father, with a
courtesan’s or courtier’s shamelessness, that he, the Duc de
Guermantes, made no bargain about my father’s right to the privilege
of contact with the ducal flesh, lead him, so to speak, on leash,
extremely annoyed and thinking only how he might escape, through
the carriage entrance out into the street. He had given us a
sweeping bow one day when we had come in just as he was going
out in the carriage with his wife; he was bound to have told her my
name; but what likelihood was there of her remembering it, or my
face either? And besides, what a feeble recommendation to be
pointed out simply as being one of her tenants! Another, more
valuable, would have been my meeting the Duchess in the drawing-
room of Mme. de Villeparisis, who, as it happened, had just sent
word by my grandmother that I was to go and see her, and,
remembering that I had been intending to go in for literature, had
added that I should meet several authors there. But my father felt
that I was still a little young to go into society, and as the state of my
health continued to give him uneasiness he did not see the use of
establishing precedents that would do me no good.
As one of Mme. de Guermantes’s footmen was in the habit of
talking to Françoise, I picked up the names of several of the houses
which she frequented, but formed no impression of any of them; from
the moment in which they were a part of her life, of that life which I
saw only through the veil of her name, were they not inconceivable?
“To-night there’s a big party with a Chinese shadow show at the
Princesse de Parme’s,” said the footman, “but we shan’t be going,
because at five o’clock Madame is taking the train to Chantilly, to
spend a few days with the Duc d’Aumale; but it’ll be the lady’s maid
and valet that are going with her. I’m to stay here. She won’t be at all
pleased, the Princesse de Parme won’t, that’s four times already
she’s written to Madame la Duchesse.”
“Then you won’t be going down to Guermantes Castle this year?”
“It’s the first time we shan’t be going there: it’s because of the
Duke’s rheumatics, the doctor says he’s not to go there till the hot
pipes are in, but we’ve been there every year till now, right on to
January. If the hot pipes aren’t ready, perhaps Madame will go for a
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