These past couple of days, my mind's been stuck on Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I couldn't tell you why and I suppose it doesn't matter, but I keep returning to the tragic story of one of its main characters - the Roma (gypsy) dancer Esmeralda.
Desired and relentlessly pursued by the men who surround her, Esmeralda sees her fortunes turn from being adored for her youth and beauty to being reviled as a witch and temptress. Isn't that often the case, a beautiful woman can easily slide from much-revered angel to vile whore, often hanging on her willingness to do the bidding of lustful men.
Esmeralda's tale is a fascinating one. She is stolen by gypsies at birth to replace the deformed Quasimodo who later (of course) becomes enamored with her, largely since Esmeralda is one of the very few people in Paris who's kind to Quasimodo.
Despite Quasimodo's efforts, despite her pinning her hopes on the womanizing Captain Phoebus, no man manages to protect the wild and attractive Esmeralda. She becomes too dangerous, the passions she stirs uncontrollable. The story ends, of course, with Esmeralda being hanged.
It's a fantastic story, and if you're not in the mood to read it, you could watch the musical version in full on Youtube, or at the very least have a listen to its most famous track (which has been stuck in my head for days now).
So thinking obsessively as I was about Esmeralda and her fate, I decided to channel her. I wanted to put myself in her place. I tried to get myself in her frame of mind - despite holding that power over several men, Esmeralda is in many ways powerless, as her sad fate proves.
The song is actually sung by three of the men who desire Esmeralda - Quasimodo, Phoebus and Frollo, and it's these latter two whose parts I most enjoy.
Belle, est-ce le diable qui s'est incarné en elle
Pour détourner mes yeux du Dieu éternel ?
Qui a mis dans mon être ce désir charnel
Pour m'empêcher de regarder vers le Ciel?
(Beautiful, is it the Devil incarnated in her
To turn my eyes from my eternal God?
Who has put this carnal desire in my being
To stop me from looking to the heavens?)
Elle porte en elle le péché originel
La désirer fait-il de moi un criminel
Celle qu'on prenait pour une fille de joie une fille de rien
Semble soudain porter la croix du genre humain
Ô, Notre-Dame ! Laisse-moi rien qu'une fois
Pousser la porte du jardin d'Esmeralda
(She carries in her original sin
Should desire make of me a criminal?
Her, whom we took for a prostitute, a lowlife
Suddenly seems to carry the cross of humanity
Oh, Blessed Mother, let me just this once
Open the gate to Esmeralda's garden)
The man singing here, Frollo, is an Archdeacon. He is a man of God, hence his great torment.
And then we have Phoebus, the philandering soldier.
Belle, malgré ses grands yeux noirs qui vous ensorcellent
La demoiselle serait-elle encore pucelle
(Beeautiful, in spite of her bewitching dark eyes,
Is this girl still pure?)
Quand ses mouvements me font voir monts et merveilles
Sous son jupon aux couleurs de l'arc-en-ciel
(When her movements make me see mountains and marvels
Underneath her rainbow-color skirt)
But of course, Phoebus is betrothed.
Ma dulcinée laissez-moi vous être infidèle
Avant de vous avoir menée jusqu'à l'autel
(My sweetheart, allow me to be unfaithful
Before you step to the altar)
Quel est l'homme qui détournerait son regard d'elle
Sous peine d'être changé en statue de sel
(Who is the man who would turn his eyes from her
On pain of being turned into a pillar of salt)
Ô, Fleur-de-Lys ! Je ne suis pas homme de foi
J'irai cueillir la fleur d'amour d'Esmeralda
(O, Fleur-de-Lys! I am no man of faith
I'm going to pluck that flower of love of Esmeralda's)
It's interesting to remember that, although in most productions Esmeralda is of course played by an older and usually quite seductive woman, this is a sixteen-year-old girl we're talking about and these grown-ass men are gunning for her virginity.
While I love Frollo and Phoebus's verses more, there is a sweet simplicity in poor Quasimodo's love for Esmeralda.
Belle, c'est un mot qu'on dirait inventé pour elle
Quand elle danse et qu'elle met son corps à jour
Tel un oiseau qui étend ses ailes pour s'envoler
Alors je sens l'enfer s'ouvrir sous mes pieds
(Beautiful, it's a word invented for her
When she dances, revealing her body to the day
Like a bird opening its wings to fly
And then, I feel Hell open beneath my feet)
J'ai posé mes yeux sous sa robe de gitane
A quoi me sert encore de prier Notre-Dame
Quel est celui qui lui jettera la première pierre
Celui-là ne mérite pas d'être sur terre
(I've spied under her gypsy dress
Now what's the point of praying to Our Holy Mother?
He who would throw the first stone against her
He does not deserve a place on this earth.)
Ô, Lucifer ! Ô, Laisse-moi rien qu'une fois
Glisser mes doigts dans les cheveux d'Esmeralda
(O Lucifer, let me only this once
Run my fingers through Esmeralda's hair.)
It's really a stunning text - I love all the little references the men make to one another, with Quasimodo praying to the Devil while Frollo prays to God. With Frollo cursing his religiousness that stops him from touching her, while Phoebus freely proclaims himself not a man of God, and thus allowed to sin at will, before his own beloved's eyes.
And to it all, you have Esmeralda with her good, kind heart and her desperate search for protection in a cold, lonely world. And of course, refusing to give the men that which they most want from her, they are either unable (Quasimodo) or unwilling (Phoebus) to protect her.
So she must die.
It's a great story and I had so much fun dressing up and playing a bit. Been ages since I've used my camera, so this was exciting. Been ages since I've worn this much make-up, too. Also, the French is translated by me, so there may be slight mistakes.
