Huis Clos

I went to where we keep the old school papers and mementos and dug out my translation of No Exit, to see what I'd done with the first lines. There it was under two copies of my thesis (Towards a New Theater: A Comparison of the Ideas of Jerzy Grotowski and Karol Wojtyla), a thin comb-bound book with a teal cover -- I remember picking out the cardstock from the college bindery up near the faculty offices. And there was my maiden name on the cover too, something I haven't seen in print for a long time.

Since Bearing was commenting on Gilbert's infelicitous translation of the opening of No Exit, I thought I'd put up what I'd done with the first page. My translation was so many computer eons ago that all I have is a hard copy. What a vulnerable feeling it is -- I have the only remaining copy of my translation in the world.

SCENE ONE
GARCIN, VALET 

A room in the Second Empire style. A bronze sculpture on the mantel. 

GARCIN: (enters and looks about him): Well, here it is. 

VALET: Here it is. 

GARCIN: It's like this? 

VALET: It's like this. 

GARCIN: I... I suppose that in the end one must get used to the furniture. 

VALET: That depends on the person. 

GARCIN: Are all the rooms the same? 

VALET: What do you think? We serve Chinese and Hindus. What do you expect them to make of a Second Empire armchair? 

GARCIN: What do you expect me to make of it? Do you know who I was? (Snorts) It's not important any more. After all, I always lived with furniture I didn't like and in false situations; I loved that. An awkward situation in an awkward chair, you know? 

VALET: Then a Second Empire drawing room won't be so bad.

Here's Sartre:

GARCIN, il entre et regard autour de lui. -- Alors voilà. 

LE GARÇON. -- Voilà. 

GARCIN. -- C'est comme ça... 

LE GARÇON. -- C'est comme ça. 

GARCIN. -- Je... Je pense qu'à la longue on doit s'habituer aux meubles. 

LE GARÇON. -- Ça dépend des personnes. 

GARCIN. -- Est-ce que toutes les chambre sont pareilles? 

LE GARÇON. -- Pensez-vous. Il nous vient des Chinois, des Hindous. Qu'est-ce que vous voulez qu'ils fassent d'un fauteuil Second Empire? 

GARCIN. -- Et moi, qu'est-ce que vous voulez que j'en fasse? Savez-vous qui j'étais? Bah! ça n'a aucune importance. Après tout, je vivais toujours dans des meubles que je n'aimais pas et des situations fausses; j'adorais ça. Une situation fausse dans une salle à manger Louis-Philippe, ca ne vous dit rien? 

LE GARÇON. -- Vous verrez; dans un salon Second Empire, ça n'est pas mal non plus.

And here is Gilbert's translation of the same:

GARCIN [enters, accompanied by the Room-Valet, and glances around him]: Hm! So here we are? 

VALET: Yes, Mr. Garcin. 

GARCIN: And this is what it looks like? 

VALET: Yes. 

GARCIN: Second Empire furniture, I observe... Well, well. I dare say one gets used to it in time. 

VALET: Some do. Some don't. 

GARCIN: Are all the other rooms like this? 

VALET: How could they be? We cater for all sorts: Chinamen and Indians, for example. What use would they have for a Second Empire chair? 

GARCIN: And what use do you suppose I have for one? Do you knwo who I was? ... Oh, well, it's no great matter. And, to tell the truth, I had quite a habit of living among furniture that I didn't relish, and in false positions. I'd even come to like it. A false position in a Louis-Philippe dining-room -- you know the style? -- well, that had its points, you know. Bogus in bogus, so to speak.  

VALET: And you'll find that living in a Second Empire drawing room has its points.

Readers might be interested to know that Louis-Philippe was the king whom the young revolutionaries were protesting at the barricades in Les Miserables, in 1832. The notes in my French version say that Louis-Philippe furniture is the epitome of petty, bourgeois taste. I translated, "Une situation fausse dans une salle à manger Louis-Philippe, ca ne vous dit rien?" as "An awkward situation in an awkward chair, you know?" because neither Louis-Philippe nor Second Empire had any resonance with my college audience, or with me for that matter.

Lost In Translation: This Week's Gospel

The story of the pharisee and the publican is one of those bits of the bible that is so familiar you could paraphrase it pretty easily on request. Indeed, I had a very specific line in my head in regards to it: "O Lord, I thank you that I am not like other men."

Thus, it was with mild surprise that I heard our deacon read out yesterday:

The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself,
'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity --
greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax collector.
I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.’ (Lk 18:11-12)

Yep, even the self-satisfied old pharisee, though he has no problem with accusing everyone else of being greedy, dishonest and adulterous, apparently doesn't want to be caught using non-inclusive language.

So what's the actual text? The Vatican provides the neo Vulgate (the official Bible of the Church) text as follows:

11 Pharisaeus stans haec apud se orabat: “Deus, gratias ago tibi, quia non sum sicut ceteri hominum, raptores, iniusti, adulteri, velut etiam hic publicanus;
12 ieiuno bis in sabbato, decimas do omnium, quae possideo”.

A fairly literal translation of this would be:

The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: "God, I give thanks to you that I am not like the rest of men: greedy, unjust, adulterous -- just like this publican. I fast twice in a week, and I give a tenth of all I possess."

I find myself kind of curious: Where does my specific memory of the Pharisee's prayer come from? I tried checking the KJB (as the most likely to hear in literature) and the Douay Rheims, but both have slightly different formulations (though of course they use the m-word). I've no idea, though I must admit I find "the rest of humanity" from the NAB rather lame.