Moliere Archives - James E Hartley

Pseudo-Intellectuals and Their Opponents

Yet Trissotin, I must admit,
So irks me that there’s no controlling it.
I can’t to gain his advocacy stoop
To praise the works of such a nincompoop.
It was those works which introduced me to him;
Before I ever saw the man, I knew him;
From the vile way he wrote, I saw with ease
What, in the flesh, must be his qualities:
The absolute presumption, the complete
And dauntless nature of his self-conceit,
The calm assurance of his superior worth
Which renders him the smuggest man on earth,
So that he stands in awe and hugs himself
Before his volumes ranged upon the shelf,
And would not trade his baseless reputation
For that of any general in the nation.

That is Clitandre in Moliere’s The Learned Ladies. It (and all the quotations which follow) are from the absolutely brilliant Richard Wilbur translation. (Side note: Wilbur’s translations of Moliere’s verse plays are extraordinary; somehow there is never a forced rhyme.)

As the play opens, we get dueling portraits of Trissotin. As is obvious from the above, Clitandre is not impressed. Clitandre’s mother, Philaminte, is highly impressed, so much so that she is arranging to marry off her daughter to this scholar she esteems so highly. (Fear not, Dear Reader, in the end Clitandre will marry the true love of her life and all will be well.)

If you want an example of how things never really change, you can do no better than this play from 1672.

When we meet Trissotin later in the play, we predictably discover that Clitandre is right. Trissotin is an intellectual fraud. The question for us today is why does Philaminte believe that Trissotin is so brilliant? Why doesn’t she see that there is absolutely no depth of thought in her intellectual hero; why is she so willing to accept that what he is saying must be true?

Consider the following conversation:

Trissotin: For method, Aristotle suits me well.
Philaminte: But in abstractions, Plato does excel.
Armande: The thought of Epicurus is very keen.
Belise: I rather like his atoms, but as between
            A vacuum and a field of subtle matter
            I find it easier to accept the latter.
Trissotin: On magnetism, Descartes supports my notions.
Armande: I love his falling worlds…
Philaminte:                  And whirling motions!

Here is the question: What did you think when you read that conversation? Are Trissotin, Philaminte, Armande and Belise having an intellectual conversation, full of insight and wit? Did you see the name-dropping and assume these all must be super smart people having a super smart conversation? Or did you notice that none of them are actually saying anything beyond platitudes? They are simply name-dropping.

I have noticed this phenomena a lot, probably because I spend way too much time in gatherings with Ph.D.s. (My favorite example occurred at a pre-talk dinner where one of my colleagues and the guest speaker spent a considerable time showing off their ability to mention great museums. “The museum in Detroit is really excellent.” “Yes, but have you ever been to the one in Cincinnati?” And so on for a good 10 minutes. Somehow neither one of them ever manage to actually say anything substantive about any of the museums they mentioned. It was hard not to laugh out loud at them.) In the popular imagination, if you have a lot of years of education, you must be really smart and know a lot of stuff. In reality, most Ph.D.s I have met are the equivalent of an idiot savant. They know a whole lot about one small thing; that is how they earned their Ph.D.

But, does someone with a Ph.D. know anything about any subject outside of their narrow area of expertise? Maybe. (Frequently told joke which is funny because it is true: Ph.D.s are people who have learned more and more about less and less until they know everything about nothing.) Just like people in any walk of life, some people are widely knowledgeable and well-read and some are not. Some lawyers and doctors and pastors and electricians and barbers know things beyond their narrow expertise; some really don’t know much of anything else. Yet, there is a presumption that people with Ph.D.s know a lot of things.

Why does this matter? Think for a moment about the effect of this assumption that intellectuals have knowledge and wisdom on things beyond their narrow expertise. What would be the effect of this assumption if the academics start believing it themselves?

Moliere’s describes it perfectly in a discussion of the aims of this society of the “learned.”

Regarding language, we aim to renovate
Our tongue through laws which soon we’ll promulgate.
Each of us has conceived a hatred, based
On outraged reason or offended taste,
For certain nouns and verbs. We’ve gathered these
Into a list of shared antipathies,
And shall proceed to doom and banish them.
At each of our learned gatherings, we’ll condemn
In mordant terms those words which we propose
To purge from usage, whether in verse or prose.

Looking at the state of the modern Academy, it is really hard to believe those words were written over three centuries ago. Certain nouns and verbs shall henceforth be verboten! Forbidden words! Words that we all know should be hated! We’ll gather together and denounce these words!

What gives the characters in this play the confidence that they can decide which words needs to go? Do you even have to ask? These people are the learned! They are the ones who have that scintillating discussion above about Aristotle and Plato and Epicurus and Descartes and thus they know more than the plebeians who live outside their learned society. One of the goals of the learned society, perhaps the most important goal, is to purge society from the use of improper language. (Earlier in the play Philaminte fired a servant because the servant’s grammar was improper!)

Drawing the connection to contemporary society is not difficult. But, then a funny thing happened. The hoi polloi outside the Academy banded together to oppose the attempt of the learned to ban words from use. Sadly, the result is not an argument for freedom of speech. The result is an attempt to ban a different set of words and thoughts from educational institutions.

We are quickly heading for a world in which academic institutions have dueling speech codes. Both speech codes are being promulgated by “experts,” people who pose as all-knowing mandarins happy to use their status to advance the idea that those other people out there are talking in really really bad ways. There are a lot of Trissotins in the modern world.

There is no better example of this baleful problem than Penguin Random House, which has recently done both of these things:

1. Decided that the Roald Dahl books need to be edited to remove offensive language.
2. Filed a lawsuit in Florida to oppose attempts to remove books other people find offensive from school libraries.

If that seems like Penguin Random House is contradicting itself, you are under the mistake impression that anyone cares about free speech anymore. Free speech is for me, not for thee.

Sadly, Penguin Random House is all too typical. The result has been a whole bunch of people relying on their own Most Favored Intellectuals, who are happy to issues directives from on high about how all the rest of us should think.

Where does this lead? Moliere again:

By our high standards we shall criticize
Whatever’s written, and be severe with it.
We’ll show that only we and our friends have wit.
We’ll search out faults in everything, while citing
Ourselves alone for pure and flawless writing.

In 1672, that was satirical wit. Now? It is the motto of just about everyone involved with education on both sides of the duel.

What is the solution? Lose the idea that there is anyone out there whose ideas are so pure and flawless they can be accepted without critique. It is painfully easy to notice the pseudo-intellectuals amongst those with whom you disagree. Remember that there are many pseudo-intellectuals in your tribe too. A little intellectual humility would go a long way.

Related Posts
Moliere The Misanthrope “Will You Be Honest With Me?“
Deneen, Patrick Why Liberalism Failed “Make the Holy Roman Empire Great Again”

Evil Jeeves

A plot summary:
A young gentleman of dubious intellectual capacity with no discernable means of income has a valet who is extraordinarily brilliant. Said valet is capable of designing ingenious scheme to enable his master to attain seemingly impossible aims. The story is told with great wit. It is incredibly amusing despite the fact (or maybe because of the fact) that it is ridiculously repetitive. Over and over the valet’s clever plans are thwarted because the young master is convinced he knows best and ends up making things even worse.

Question: Who is the author of that story?

The odd thing: within the last week, I have read two stories which are perfectly described by that plot summary. Only one of the stories was written by P.G. Wodehouse. Right Ho, Jeeves, which I read for the third or fourth or fifth (I really have no idea) time has Bertie Wooster deciding he can forgo Jeeves’ talents and solve a wealth of problems which continuously get worse until in desperation Bertie turns to Jeeves to save the day. But you knew all that as soon as you saw that the title contained with word “Jeeves.”

Right Ho, Jeeves was published in 1934. You can imagine my great shock when I read a version of this story from 1655.

Moliere’s The Bungler is the tale of young Lelie who is enamored with a slave, the extremely beautiful Celie, but cannot figure out how to win her. Fortunately, Lelie has a very clever valet, Mascarille. Consider this exchange at the outset of the play:

Lelie:
Yet I’d be foolish to despair or doubt;
With your help, I feel sure of winning out.
You’re full of clever schemes; your canny wit
Finds no predicament too much for it;
You are, I think, a king among valets;
In all the world…

Mascarille
Whoa! No more sugary praise.
When masters need the help of us poor hinds,
They call us paragons with brilliant minds;
But let us make some slip; and in a flash
We’re stupid scoundrels who deserve the lash.

With a few changes, that could have come straight out of any Jeeves and Wooster novel. The changes? First, Wooster and Jeeves don’t speak in verse. Moliere wrote in verse, and the translation here is the great Richard Wilbur translation (if you are going to read Moliere in English, do not even think of reading any other translation).

It is the second difference between the Moliere play and a Wodehouse novel which is the more intriguing. What Mascarille says above is not something that Jeeves would ever say. He might think it, but he would never say it. It is most definitely true—every Jeeves and Wooster story begins with Bertie sporting a new bit of rather loud clothing or facial hair which Jeeves abhors and Bertie in effect declares that Jeeves is a stupid scoundrel lacking taste—but Jeeves would still never say this. Jeeves always maintains a perfect outward demeanor.

What follows is very much in the Jeeves and Wooster line. Mascarille hatches a plan which will cleverly allow Lelie to leave the scene with Celie as his wife, and Lelie shows up and manages to bungle the entire plan. Over and over. A part of the humor in the play is watching how Lelie bungles yet another perfect plan. It makes no difference if Lelie knew the plan in advance or not; he never fails to ruin it.

The plot is not the only source of humor; the wit in the dialogue is extraordinary. Consider this exchange:

Lelie: Help me, I beg of you.
Mascarille: No, I’ll do nothing.
Lelie: If you won’t change your mind, I’ll kill myself.
Mascarille: Do, if you’re so inclined.
Lelie: You won’t relent?
Mascarille: No.
Lelie: You see that my sword is drawn?
Mascarille: Yes.
Lelie: I shall thrust it through my heart.
Mascarille: Go on.
Lelie: Won’t you be sad to have taken my life from me?
Mascarille: No.
Lelie: Then, farewell.
Mascarille: Farewell, Monsieur Lelie.
Lelie: So! . . .
Mascarille: Hurry up, please; less talk, more suicide.
Lelie: Because you’d get my wardrobe if I died,/ You’d have me play the fool and pierce my heart.
Mascarille: I knew that you were faking, from the start./ Men often swear to kill themselves, and yet/ Few of them, nowadays, make good their threat.

Humor relies on the unexpected and there is no way that any reader expected Mascarille’s lines in that bit of dialogue. Jeeves is also extremely funny, but one again, Jeeves would never say to Bertie “Less talk; More Suicide.” Never.

Therein lies the big difference between the two valets. Jeeves is good; Mascarille is not. The trailer for The Bungler: “What if Jeeves decided to become morally bankrupt.” This evil Jeeves is every bit as clever as the Jeeves we know, but this Jeeves is perfectly willing to concoct a plan which involves lying to Lelie’s father, Pandolfe, to send him on a wild goose chase out of town and then telling Anselme that Pandolfe has died, staging a funeral, and then asking Anselme for money to help Lelie pay the funeral expenses—all so Lelie can get the money he needs to buy Celie from her owner so he can run off with her. A clever plan to be sure, but of course it fails.

We get a glimpse into the soul of Mascarille in a remarkable soliloquy which seems positively Shakespearean in the midst of a madcap story. He begins with a debate within himself:

Hush, my good nature; you haven’t a grain of sense.
And I’ll no longer hear your arguments.
It’s you, my anger, that I’ll listen to.
Am I obliged forever to undo
The blunders of a clod? I should resign!

He is right; there is no reason he should continue to strive to help his bumbling fool of a master. We never once get the impression that Jeeves is angry with Bertie for being a fool, but that is a level of heroic resolve which seems quite above mortals. Mascarille has no such calm. It is annoying, truly annoying to have a bumbling master.

But why does Mascarille persist in working for Lelie? It isn’t about service at all.

Were I to let my just impatience rule me,
They’d say that I’d been quick to call it quits,
And that I’d lost the vigor of my wits;
And what them would become of my renown
As the most glorious trickster in the town,
A reputation that I’ve earned by never
Failing to think of something wildly clever?

Once again, the contrast with Jeeves is revealing. Jeeves is the most clever person in the Wodehouse pantheon. Indeed, Jeeves may be the most clever person in the literary pantheon. Jeeves vs Hamlet in a battle of wits? I’d bet on Jeeves. Yet, while Jeeves would have every right to utter these lines about his reputation, it is inconceivable he would ever say such a thing, even in an aside to the audience.

Then comes the most fascinating pair of lines in Mascarille’s soliloquy:

O Mascarille, let honor be your guide!
Persist in those great works which are your pride.

Mascarille is a devious trickster engaged in any number of immoral schemes, and yet, in deciding to persist in his ways, he is letting honor be his guide. Honor? It is hard to find an honorable act in the whole play. Right after talking of honor, Mascarille explains:

And though your master irks you, persevere
Not for his sake, but for your own career.

Mascarille may be many things, but honorable is not one of them.

The disturbing note: imagine a person who has the inventive genius of Jeeves and Mascarille. Which moral character is more realistic? I’m afraid it isn’t even close. I can far more easily imagine meeting Mascarille than Jeeves.

Moliere is not listed in the index of Robert McCrum’s biography of P.G. Wodehouse, but if Wodehouse had never read this play before concocting Jeeves and Wooster, that would be amazing. If you like Wodehouse (and you should like Wodehouse), I am happy to heartily recommend the Richard Wilbur translation of The Bungler. In addition to all the other joys contained therein (the play, by the way that Victor Hugo said was Moliere’s best), you’ll get the added enjoyment of watching the evil version of Jeeves in action.

Related Posts
Wodehouse, P.G. Psmith in the City “Embracing Your Inner Psmith”
Machiavelli, Niccolo Discourses on Livy “The Nice Machiavelli”

Tartuffe, Kanye, and Saul of Tarsus

Consider Tartuffe, Moliere’s play about a scoundrel who pretends to be a pious man in order to convince a wealthy dupe to hand over all his wealth.

The play is funny, which you knew became Moliere wrote it. It raises some interesting questions about what it means to be dishonest.

If I act better than I am, does that mean I am dishonest? Suppose I am a terrible person, but in public, I act like a good person. Is that bad? Hard to say Yes to that.

We read this in one of my reading groups. Consider the following situation. Someone befriends a very wealthy person and then spends years being the best friend the wealthy person could ever have. The wealthy person lives and dies very happy to have had such a truly wonderful friend, and then leaves the entire estate to this good friend. That is a great story, isn’t it? But, the friend was only pretending to be a friend in order to get the money. Does that change the story? Is that morally acceptable? The wealthy person really was happier having such a good friend and never discovered the deceit. Yet, the students in the reading group were nearly unanimous that this person pretending to be a friend would be doing a terrible thing.

Curious. Does intention or action matter more?

But, while that is what we talked about in the reading group, what I thought about during and after reading the play was…Kanye West. I realized that the current national discussion about Kanye is highly related to the plot of Tartuffe.

As I recently noted in a blog post, I have been convinced for a couple of years now that if Kanye decides to run for President, he cannot be beat. The last couple of weeks has been a perfect example of why.

Yet, part of the national discussion is whether Kanye is being serious with this album. It appears that many people have a sneaking suspicion that this is all some elaborate scam, that Kanye has not really converted, that this is just another money grab by a guy who has grabbed a lot of money in his time.

Kanye, as you know unless you live under a rock, just released a new album, Jesus is King. I listened to it expecting a sort of mild nod to Christianity. I was wrong to expect that. Kanye, who goes all in on everything, has gone all in here. This is a good old-fashioned gospel album. The lyrics aren’t subtle at all; this is Billy Graham Crusade levels of overt Christianity. You could play this album in a fundamentalist Baptist church and not be able to tell the difference between the content of the lyrics and the content of the sermon.

Why? Why would anyone doubt that Kanye is serious here? It is because we have all been culturally conditioned by plays like Tartuffe to equate expressions of religious belief with charlatans.

Now I understand why people outside the church would think like that. If you do not realize the truth of Christianity, then there is no way you could understand the notion of a life-changing conversion to Christianity.

But, what if you are inside the church? One of the foundational stories of the church, one of those stories we tell each other all the time, is the story of Saul of Tarsus being blinded by the light of Christ and turning from being the Church’s greatest persecutor into its greatest evangelist. Christians believe in conversion. It is central to Christian doctrine. So, why doubt Kanye?

Kanye talks about exactly this phenomena on the album itself:

Told the devil that I’m going on a strike
I’ve been working for you my whole life
Nothing worse than a hypocrite
Change, he ain’t really different
He ain’t even try to get permission
Ask for advice and they dissed him
Said I’m finna do a gospel album
What have you been hearin’ from the Christians?
They’ll be the first one to judge me
Make it feel like nobody love me

What are you hearing from the Christians indeed. Isn’t it a part of Christian doctrine to accept the convert at his word? Isn’t it part of the role of the church to accept the prodigal son with open arms? Doesn’t finding the lost coin or the lost sheep bring great joy in heaven? Yes, we know that sometimes people enter the church on false pretenses, but what gives anyone in the church the right to prejudge another’s conversion?

We get called halfway believers
Only halfway read Ephesians
Only if they knew what I knew, uh
I was never new ’til I knew of
True and living God, Yeshua
The true and living God
(Somebody pray for me)

A guy puts out what could easily become one of the top selling gospel albums. Every song is a testament to Christ and the significance of conversion and the importance of belief and an explanation of the life we should lead. And people in the church doubt him? Imagine an album with lyrics like this:

Everything that hath breath praise the Lord
Worship Christ with the best of your portions
I know I won’t forget all He’s done
He’s the strength in this race that I run
Every time I look up, I see God’s faithfulness
And it shows just how much He is miraculous
I can’t keep it to myself, I can’t sit here and be still
Everybody, I will tell ’til the whole world is healed
King of Kings, Lord of Lords, all the things He has in store
From the rich to the poor, all are welcome through the door
You won’t ever be the same when you call on Jesus’ name
Listen to the words I’m sayin’, Jesus saved me, now I’m sane
And I know, I know God is the force that picked me up
I know Christ is the fountain that filled my cup
I know God is alive, yeah
He has opened up my vision
Giving me a revelation
This ain’t ’bout a dead religion
Jesus brought a revolution
All the captives are forgiven
Time to break down all the prisons
Every man, every woman
There is freedom from addiction
Jesus, You have my soul
Sunday Service on a roll
All my idols, let ’em go
All the demons, let ’em know
This a mission, not a show
This is my eternal soul
This my kids, this the crib
This my wife, this my life
This my God-given right
Thank You, Jesus, won the fight

Or how about this message for the culture?

Get your family, y’all hold hands and pray
When you got daughters, always keep ’em safe
Watch out for vipers, don’t let them indoctrinate
Closed on Sunday, you my Chick-fil-A
You’re my number one, with the lemonade
Raise our sons, train them in the faith
Through temptations, make sure they’re wide awake
Follow Jesus, listen and obey
No more livin’ for the culture, we nobody’s slave

You really want say this isn’t a Christian album?

OK, some of the lyrics are a bit groan inducing

The IRS want they fifty plus our tithe
Man, that’s over half of the pie
I felt dry, that’s on God
That’s why I charge the prices that I charge
I can’t be out here dancin’ with the stars
No, I cannot let my family starve

Yeah, Kanye, without charging high prices, Kim Kardashian would surely starve.

But the point remains. Kaye isn’t perfect. That too is part of Christian doctrine. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Why assume Kanye is like Tartuffe instead of like Saul of Tarsus?

And note, if (well, when) Kanye does run for President he will be the most explicitly Christian candidate for President since Pat Robertson. Imagine uniting Christians and aficionados of rap music and reality TV into a giant coalition. Who is going to win against that?

Keeping up with the Kardashians: The White House Years. Gonna be a big hit.