_Confronting Kabbalah_ offers a captivating look into the little-known library of Johann Albrecht Widmanstetter. This study paints a vivid picture of a man with a unique perspective on Kabbalah and it explores how Christian Hebraists in the sixteenth century collected Jewish books.

Wat is een weerbare democratie? Hoe gaan we om met krachten die zich niet aan de regels van onze rechtsstaat houden? 00Steeds meer politieke partijen stellen ongrondwettelijke maatregelen voor, radicale groeperingen trachten door terreur anderen hun wil op te leggen, buitenlandse regimes pogen in onze democratie te interveniëren en lidstaten van de EU nemen wetten aan die de democratie allesbehalve bevorderen. 'De strijd om de democratie' behandelt in het licht van deze ontwikkelingen het vraagstuk van de 'weerbare democratie'. In hoeverre (...) zijn ondemocratische maatregelen geoorloofd om de democratie te beschermen? In deze actuele bundel laten vooraanstaande denkers als Afshin Ellian, Bastiaan Rijpkema, Paul Cliteur, Gelijn Molier en Dirk Verhofstadt hun licht schijnen over deze meer dan urgente vraag. (shrink)

" Se moquer de la philosophie, c'est vraiment philosopher. " Ce propos de Pascal, Olivier Bloch l'illustre et le confirme par le présent ouvrage, en s'attachant à démontrer la part de philosophie inhérente au texte de Molière et le jeu théâtral auquel elle renvoie. La philosophie, dont le terme et le concept courent tout au long de l'œuvre de Molière, c'est celle de son temps, au premier chef celle de Descartes, mais aussi les philosophies antagonistes comme celle de Gassendi. L'étude (...) d'Olivier Bloch nous montre que les pièces les plus célèbres de Molière - Dom Juan, Les Femmes Savantes, Tartuffe... comme d'autres moins connues - Amphitryon, Les Amants magnifiques... - mettent littéralement en scène des propos, des débats et des concepts caractéristiques de ces philosophies. Ce constat n'a rien d'anecdotique : nous découvrons ainsi que Molière avait une connaissance et une compréhension des problèmes philosophiques de son époque qui dépassent ce que l'on avait soupçonné jusqu'alors. Sur le registre de l'humour, il détourne à travers ses pièces les thèmes philosophiques majeurs de l'époque classique (Dieu et les preuves de son existence, l'âme et le corps, le Moi, etc.) et fait écho à leur mise en cause dans la Culture du XVIIe siècle. Lecture originale et subtile de Molière, cet essai éclaire son œuvre, les débats de son époque et les rapports qu'entretiennent la littérature, le théâtre, la comédie, le rire et la philosophie. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Paul Woodruff ROUSSEAU, MOLIÈRE, AND THE ETHICS OF LAUGHTER Rousseau attacks comedy on the grounds that it is bad for our morals. He tries to show that to make a comedy moral is to take the fun out of it. No one would deny that some jokes are bad, and bad for us. But I think Rousseau is mistaken in his belief that the fun of comedy depends on (...) the bad sort of joke. In this essay I examine the ethics of laughter and the techniques of comedy, and find them rooted in a common metaphysics of human nature. It turns out, if I am right, that the most effective comic techniques are the most innocent. A comic playwright can make us laugh at almost anything, even at things that unsettle or horrify us outside the theater. Surprised by our own laughter, we are grateful to see our bugbears turned ridiculous. But what if we find ourselves laughing at virtue in the theater, and are shocked by our own laughter? Laughter, it seems, can be elicited to good or bad effect, depending on the nature of its object. And even towards the same object there can be good and bad laughter. An ethnic joke can be told in a way that brings warm laughter, bridging impossible gulfs, or it can be told in a racist way, with unforgivable laughter driving us apart. Comic playwrights are dangerous people. Plato thought them so (though not so dangerous as tragedians) and argued for restrictions on the use of ridicule. It should always be good-natured, he says in the Laws, and ought never to be directed against citizens.1 Rousseau goes beyond this. In his Letter to M. d'Alembert on the Theater2 he appeals to the danger of comedy as he vehemently defends Geneva's law against theater. Comedy, he argues, must be bad for our morals, or be nothing but a dull sermon. We must not dismiss Rousseau's critique of comedy lightly. Rousseau 325 326Philosophy and Literature was fascinated by the theater, and particularly by Molière, whom he admired as the grand master of comedy. And he knew something of what he admired and why he admired it. He had tried his hand at writing comedy and comic opera. He was not without a sense of humor (as readers of his Confessions are well aware), and he had ideas about how audiences are made to laugh. So it is not out of ignorance that he writes of comedy, "It is all bad and pernicious;... since the very pleasure of the comic is founded on the vice of the human heart,... the more the comedy is amusing..., the more its effect is disastrous for morals." At best, comic playwrights "make fun of vices without making virtue loved." At worst, like Molière in the Misanthrope, they make fun of virtues. Molière's misanthrope, Alceste, is a good man; so good, indeed, that no audience could be comfortable with him. So to please the audience (says Rousseau) Molière is forced to make Alceste ridiculous by adding to his scrupulous honesty a disposition to childish rages, thereby reenforcing the audience's corrupt belief that virtue in the extreme is foolish. But why could the play not be turned to virtuous effect, and Alceste's foils be made ridiculous in his place? Rousseau shows us what changes he thinks would have to be made—they reduce a great comedy to a dull sermon. Rousseau concludes that the same play cannot both make us laugh and be good for our morals.3 This radical case against comedy rests on two principles. First, as an audience we want only to find bad characters exciting and good characters amusing, so that successful comedy must make us laugh at good characters. Second, when we laugh at good characters in comedy, we do so without sympathy; by laughing at them we repudiate their example. Rousseau thinks it comforts us to laugh at Alceste in the Misanthrope because it enables us to set aside an example of immaculate honesty that would otherwise make us ashamed of our own deficiencies. Such laughter, he argues, is bad for... (shrink)

When Comedy, Music and Ballet step forward at the end of L'Amour medecin, the audience learns that in Moliere's theater the farcical passage from sickness to health is much more than a theme. Claiming to have a real therapeutic value, the three arts ask to be recognized as the grands medecins, and present themselves as an alternative to a dubious and rather mercenary medical profession.

The method chosen here draws on concepts borrowed from sociology and anthropology. This double conceptual approach is necessary for a society divided between values inherited from medieval Christianity and precapitalist practices. Seventeenth-century France did not think of itself as a class society but as a society of orders. Since sociology is a system of knowledge whose concepts are taken from an imaginary construct, it is thus more suited to analyzing bourgeois society than societies in transition.6 In trying to measure the (...) past with the aid of tools forged in and for contemporary societies, the sociologist runs the risk of only measuring an artifact, produced by his theories in the field of history. Hence the need for the anthropological concepts, including the notion of exchange, among others, whether material , symbolic , or sexual .This approach will bring to light the contradictions underlying the society of the ancient régime. Whereas an ordinary sociohistorical approach views the reign of Louis XIV as unified under a dogmatic classicism, the socioanthropological approach stresses the tensions and oppositions running through this society. Classicism appears then as a façade covering up the change that it cannot imagine. This “spectacle”7 makes it possible to unite contradictory social practices, both those produced by consumption and which originate in the medieval economy and those belonging to the early accumulation of capital which sketch future bourgeois economic practices. 6. See Cornelius Catoriadis, The Imaginary Institution of Society, trans. Kathleen Blamey .7. See Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, rev. English ed. . Jean-Marie Apostolidès is professor of French literature at Stanford University. His publications include Le roi-machine, Les metamorphoses de Tintin, and Le prince sacrifié. Alice Musick McLean, a Ph.D. student at the University of Chicago, is specializing in medieval narrative and the literature of the fantastic. (shrink)

This essay examines two texts that Walter Benjamin wrote in 1918, during his period in Bern, on Shakespeare’s comedy As you like it and on Le malade imaginaire by Molière When these texts are considered together, a question arises. What is the role of the comic inside Benjamin’s philosophy, in this period and also in the years to follow? Is the comic really only the other side of mourning, as Benjamin writes in The Origin of German Tragic Drama, or does (...) it also have another significance, a significance of its own? Moreover, why should Shakespeare’s comedy be the opposite of Molière’s comedy, as Benjamin writes in the paper on Molière? In order to answer, we are going to set a connection between Shakespeare’s «unarmed eye» and the «innocence» that Molière’s comedy indicates. This will also lead us to another text that was of much significance to Benjamin, Stendhal’s Charterhouse of Parma. Here too, as in As you like it, there is an innocent protagonist trying to escape from the evil of a court. Yet Shakespeare’s As you like it ends with the reconstruction of a court. What does Benjamin mean, then, when he states that in As you like it «everything ends in loneliness»? The answer will provide a point of convergence between Shakespeare’s and Molière’s comedy. Benjamin’s idea of «Weltlichkeit», of which comedy is a necessary part, will prove to be an alternative to the “armed” character of the court. (shrink)

Cette contribution explore la production dramatique de Louis-Ferdinand Céline, constituée de deux pièces écrites en 1927 (L’Église et Progrès). En particulier, l’étude enquête la fonction du théâtre pour l’écrivain, à travers une analyse littéraire des deux pièces. Cette production est une première tentative de dénonciation sociale, une critique que les lecteurs connaissent depuis la parution de Voyage. Dans la première pièce l’auteur condamne les actions de l’administration coloniale dans les territoires africains et il introduit son idéologie antisémite en décrivant les (...) représentants de la Société des Nations. Avec Progrès, Céline déploie une satire de la société bourgeoise qui lui est contemporaine, caractérisée par une morale déchue. L’article explore ensuite les possibles influences qui ont mené Céline à écrire pour le théâtre; la lecture de sa correspondance nous permet de découvrir que Céline était un véritable amateur du théâtre français et notamment celui de Molière. Il en découle une réflexion qui nous permet d’associer sa production à celle du Théâtre classique du XVIIe siècle. Céline aurait sans doute été inspiré par les comédies-ballets du célèbre dramaturge, en rendant jeunesse aux classiques nationaux français sur la scène contemporaine. (shrink)

In Molière’s comedy The Imaginary Invalid a doctor “explains” that opium reliably induces sleep because it has a “dormitive virtue.” Molière intended this to be a satirical play on the use of opaque scholastic concepts in medicine, and since then the phrase “dormitive virtue” has become a byword for explanatory failure. However, contemporary work on the metaphysics of grounding and dispositions appears to permit explanations with a strikingly similar structure. In this paper I explore competing verdicts on dormitive virtue explanation, (...) using a model of explanation I call Contextualist Pluralist Non-Realist Backing, or CPN Backing. I show that CPN Backing illuminates the puzzle about dormitive virtue explanation, shows what is required for a resolution, and makes sense of conflicting responses to this case. (shrink)

Why philosophize about comedy? What is the use of investigating the comical from philosophical and psychoanalytic perspectives? In The Odd One In, Alenka Zupancic [haceks over both cs] considers how philosophy and psychoanalysis can help us understand the movement and the logic involved in the practice of comedy, and how comedy can help philosophy and psychoanalysis recognize some of the crucial mechanisms and vicissitudes of what is called humanity. Comedy by its nature is difficult to pin down with concepts and (...) definitions, but as artistic form and social practice comedy is a mode of tarrying with a foreign object--of including the exception. Philosophy's relationship to comedy, Zupancic [haceks over both cs] writes, is not exactly a simple story. It could begin with the lost book of Aristotle's Poetics, which discussed comedy and laughter. But Zupancic [haceks over both cs] draws on a whole range of philosophers and exemplars of comedy, from Aristophanes, Molière, Hegel, Freud, and Lacan to George W. Bush and Borat. She distinguishes incisively between comedy and ideologically imposed, "naturalized" cheerfulness. Real, subversive comedy thrives on the short circuits that establish an immediate connection between heterogeneous orders. Zupancic [haceks over both cs] examines the mechanisms and processes by which comedy lets the odd one in. Alenka Zupancic [haceks over both cs] is Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of Philosophy, Slovene Academy of Sciences, Ljubljana. She is the author of The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche's Philosophy of the Two. (shrink)

When a train operator tells us that our train will be late ‘because of delays’, their attempt at explanation fails because there is insufficient distance between the explanans and the explanandum. In this paper, I motivate and defend an account of ‘explanatory distance’, based on the idea that explanations give information about dependence. I show that this account offers useful resources for addressing problem cases, including recent debates about grounding explanation, and the historical case of Molière’s dormitive virtue.

Events in the history of thought have often moved as elements of drama—now tense, now tragic, now triumphant. And, it would appear, sometimes ludicrous. This latter is the thrust of a parody which Molière visited upon the savants of his day; he pictures a candidate for a medical degree being solemnly asked why opium puts people to sleep. Just as solemnly and sagaciously, the candidate replies..

In the first essay of this book, Stanley Cavell characterizes philosophy as a "willingness to think not about something other than what ordinary human beings think about, but rather to learn to think undistractedly about things that ordinary human beings cannot help thinking about, or anyway cannot help having occur to them, sometimes in fantasy, sometimes as a flash across a landscape." Fantasies of film and television and literature, flashes across the landscape of literary theory, philosophical discourse, and French historiography (...) give Cavell his starting points in these twelve essays. Here is philosophy in and out of "school," understood as a discipline in itself or thought through the works of Shakespeare, Molière, Kierkegaard, Thoreau, Brecht, Makavejev, Bergman, Hitchcock, Astaire, and Keaton. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Fool’s Truth: Diderot, Goethe, and HegelJames SchmidtI. Of the many works that crossed from France into Germany during the “long” eighteenth century, none took as circuitous a route as Rameau’s Nephew. Begun by Diderot in 1761 but never published during his lifetime, the dialogue was among the works sent to Catherine the Great after his death in 1784. A copy of the manuscript was brought to Jena late (...) in 1804, where it was read by Schiller and passed on to Goethe, who immediately set about translating it into German. Goethe’s translation was published in the Spring of 1805 but, as Goethe later complained, made little impact on the German reading public. 1 There was, however, one notable exception: Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel.Hegel’s interpretation of Diderot’s dialogue in his 1807 Phenomenology of Spirit has long been an topic of considerable interest. Marxists—and, for that matter, Marx himself—have regarded the Phenomenology’s discussion of Diderot as illustrative of Hegel’s interest in the social and economic foundations of modern society. 2 For Lionel Trilling, it marked an important step in the genesis of the modern ideal of “authenticity.” 3 More recently, the tensions between Diderot’s “dialogizing” of the Enlightenment and the [End Page 625] Hegelian dialectic have been explored by a number of commentators. 4 Less attention, however, has been paid to the fact that the words Hegel appropriated were not, strictly speaking, Diderot’s, but rather came from Goethe’s translation. 5 Before Rameau’s Nephew could appear in the pages of Hegel’s Phenomenology, it first passed into German in a translation that, no less than Hegel, inserted the text into a rather different context from the one in which it had originated.A consideration of Hegel’s appropriation of Rameau’s Nephew thus involves us in questions about the transporting, translating, and transposing of works across borders, languages, and genres. I will begin by examining briefly how Goethe went about presenting an eighteenth century French text to a nineteenth-century German audience. I will then explore, at greater length, how Hegel went about situating this most peculiar of dialogues into his most baffling of books. Finally, I will reflect on some of the tensions between what Diderot wrote and what Hegel attempted to do with it.II. “Now, think of a city like Paris,” Goethe told Eckermann, bemoaning the “isolated, miserable sort of life” to which German intellectuals had been condemned. In Paris one could find “all of the leading minds of a great kingdom all together at the same spot, mutually instructing and advancing one another through daily contact, conflict, and rivalry.” The leading German intellectuals, in contrast, were scattered about: “There is one in Vienna, another in Berlin, another in Königsberg, another in Bonn or Düsseldorf, all fifty to a hundred miles away from each other, so that personal contact and personal exchange of ideas count as rare events.” In Paris “the best from the realms of nature and art from throughout the world lies open for daily inspection,” while “every passage over a bridge or a square recalls a mighty past” and “every street corner has evolved into a piece of history.” It was a city where “men such as Molière, Voltaire, Diderot, and the like have kept up a current of intellect such as has not been found in a single spot anywhere else in the entire world.” 6 Weimar, quite clearly, was not Paris.Rameau’s Nephew was so thoroughly a creature of Paris that the mere thought of rendering it into German might have dismayed a weaker soul than Goethe. Moi and Lui begin a conversation at the Café de la Régence that will [End Page 626] lead them from discussions of the contest between French and Italian styles in music to a consideration of the prospects for human autonomy. In between they will pass over such matters as the social utility of geniuses, the tension between aesthetics and morality, the proper upbringing of children, and the structure of social dependency, pausing from time to time as Lui loses himself in increasingly wilder pantomimes. Along the way... (shrink)

Mimesis, the notion that art imitates reality, has long been recognized as one of the central ideas of Western aesthetics and has been most frequently associated with Aristotle. Less well documented is the great importance of mimetic theories of literature, theater, and the visual arts during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. In this book, the most comprehensive overview of the theory of mimesis since Auerbach's monumental study, Gunter Gebauer and Christoph Wulf provide a thorough introduction to the complex and shifting (...) meanings of the term. Beginning with the Platonic doctrine of imitation, they chart the concept's appropriation and significance in the aesthetic theories of Aristotle, Molière, Shakespeare, Racine, Diderot, Lessing, and Rousseau. They examine the status of mimesis in the nineteenth-century novel and its reworking by such modern thinkers as Benjamin, Adorno, and Derrida. Widening the traditional understanding of mimesis to encompass the body and cultural practices of everyday life, their work suggests the continuing value of mimetic theory and will prove essential reading for scholars and students of literature, theater, and the visual arts. (shrink)

This article considers Sarah Kofman's interpretation of Molière's Dom Juan in ‘The art of not paying one's debts’. It argues that this neglected text addresses important questions of moral debt and...

In the third intermède of Le Malade Imaginaire, Molière imagines a sort of medical convention in which "the wisest experts and professors of Medicine" examine whether a bachelor candidate can be deemed to enter the medical profession. As the first question in this examination, the "Chief physician" asks, "What is the cause and reason [causam et rationem] why opium induces sleep?" The candidate answers without the least hesitation: "Because it contains a sleeping virtue [virtus dormitiva], whose nature is to put (...) the senses to sleep." The answer is followed by a jubilant reaction by the choir: "Good, good, good, he answers well, he is worthy of entering in our wise gild."1The scene is intended to be a... (shrink)

This article is concerned with exploring the idea of places as providing persons with nourishment. This version of person–place relations is displayed in a paper by McHugh and, in provocative fashion, in Michel Serres’s analysis of the human condition as a parasitic one. Unlike McHugh, Serres combines his analysis of parasites with a concern that principled actors may be insufficiently attached to places. His views are revealed in his interpretations of works by Molière and Plato. By reinterpreting these works, I (...) try to suggest that Serres’s well-founded scepticism as to the level of commitment of principled actors to the places that, as he rightly points out, are nourishing them, may not apply to the sub-set of principled actors who deserve to be called particular. (shrink)

Mimesis, the notion that art imitates reality, has long been recognized as one of the central ideas of Western aesthetics and has been most frequently associated with Aristotle. Less well documented is the great importance of mimetic theories of literature, theater, and the visual arts during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. In this book, the most comprehensive overview of the theory of mimesis since Auerbach's monumental study, Gunter Gebauer and Christoph Wulf provide a thorough introduction to the complex and shifting (...) meanings of the term. Beginning with the Platonic doctrine of imitation, they chart the concept's appropriation and significance in the aesthetic theories of Aristotle, Molière, Shakespeare, Racine, Diderot, Lessing, and Rousseau. They examine the status of mimesis in the nineteenth-century novel and its reworking by such modern thinkers as Benjamin, Adorno, and Derrida. Widening the traditional understanding of mimesis to encompass the body and cultural practices of everyday life, their work suggests the continuing value of mimetic theory and will prove essential reading for scholars and students of literature, theater, and the visual arts. (shrink)

Writers like Attneave [I960], Fodor [I968], and Dennett [1978] have argued that explanations of a mental capacity can only avoid the emptiness of Moliere's dormative virtue by decomposing the capacity into a set of components which are more rudimentary. But What is wrong with smart homunculi? I argue that smart homunculi may explain token events, such as why I now see the page in front of me, but they do not explain what seeing is. It is the importance of the (...) latter explanatory problem which explains why homunculi must be so stupid. (shrink)

From the late sixteenth to the late seventeenth centuries, French writing is especially concerned with analysing human nature. The ancient ethical vision of man's nature and goal survives, even, to some extent, in Descartes. But it is put into question especially by the revival of St Augustine's thought, which focuses on the contradictions and disorders of human desires and aspirations. Analyses of behaviour display a powerful suspicion of appearances. Human beings are increasingly seen as motivated by self-love: they are driven (...) by the desire for their own advantage, and take a narcissistic delight in their own image. Moral and religious writers re-emphasize the traditional imperative of self-knowledge, but in such a way as to suggest the difficulties of knowing oneself. Operating with the Cartesian distinction between mind and body, they emphasize the imperceptible influence of bodily processes on our thought and attitudes. They analyse human beings' ignorance of their own motives and qualities, and the illusions under which they live their lives. Their critique of human behaviour is no less searching than that of writers who have broken with traditional religious morality, such as Hobbes and Spinoza. A wide range of authors is studied, some well-known, others much less so: the abstract and general analyses of philosophers and theologians are juxtaposed with the less systematic and more concrete investigations of writers like Montaigne and La Rochefoucauld, not to mention the theatre of Corneille, Molière, and Racine. (shrink)

Philosophers frequently extract two lessons from Moliere's joke about the doctor who tried to explain why opium puts people to sleep by claiming that it has a dormative virtue. First, the principle I will call the equivalence thesis: attributions of dispositional properties are equivalent to certain associated subjunctive conditionals. The second is what I will call the reducibility thesis: for a dispositional concept to be nonproblematic, its “physical basis” must be found. In what follows, I will briefly describe three theoretical (...) positions that have been defended in different areas of psychology. Each claims that a certain disposition does not exist, even though the associated subjunctive conditional is not called into question. Besides showing that the equivalence thesis is mistaken, these examples also illustrate how that doctrine in fact conflicts with the requirement of reducibility. Not that that demand can withstand criticism either; both the equivalence claim and the reducibility claim are mistaken. (shrink)

In 1982-83, I was preparing my volume on the Belgian cartoonist Hergé. During the Second World War, Hergé’s comic strips appeared daily in the newspaper Le Soir. Since I wanted to analyze the influence of the rightist thought on Hergé and Tintin, I borrowed most of the copies of Le Soir available in this country through interlibrary loan. Examining the newspaper, I came across Paul de Man’s articles, which were sometimes on the same page as the comic strips. I showed (...) these articles to some colleagues related to or teaching at Harvard University. I specifically recall an afternoon with a colleague from Boston University whose specialty is the hunting of presumed French fascist intellectuals; we discussed together the possible bridges between de Man’s contemporary thought and his former intellectual engagement during the Second World War.That is to say that, as far as I know, several people at Harvard and in the Boston area were aware of de Man’s former affiliation with rightist circles. One can ask why it took five more years for the “scandal” to appear: why this “sudden” revelation after several years of silence and dissimulation? Compared to the fact that Hergé had constantly been confronted with his political past, one can wonder how strongly Paul de Man’s “secret” was kept. Jean-Marie Apostolidès is professor of French at Stanford University. He is currently writing an essay on the anthropological reading of literature. His article “Molière and the Sociology of Exchange” appeared in the Spring 1988 issue of Critical Inquiry. (shrink)

In an age characterized by impersonality and a fear of individuality this book is indeed unusual. It is personal, individualistic and idiosyncratic - a record of the scientific adventure of a single mind. Most scientific writing today is so depersonalized that it is impossible to recognize the man behind the work, even when one knows him. Costa de Beauregard's scientific career has focused on three domains - special relativity, statistics and irreversibility, and quantum mechanics. In Time, the Physical Magnitude he (...) has provided a personal vade mecum to those problems, concepts, and ideas with which he has been so long preoccupied. Some years ago we were struck by a simple and profound observa tion of Mendel Sachs, the gist of which follows. Relativity is based on very simple ideas but, because it requires highly complicated mathe matics, people find it difficult. Quantum mechanics, on the other hand, derives from very complicated principles but, since its mathematics is straightforward, people feel they understand it. In some ways they are like the bourgeois gentilhomme of Moliere in that they speak quantum mechanics without knowing what it is. Costa de Beauregard recognizes the complexity of quantum mechanics. A great virtue of the book is that he does not hide or shy away from the complexity. He exposes it fully while presenting his ideas in a non-dogmatic way. (shrink)

Dire toute la vérité et rien que la vérité. Vivre dans la transparence et la franchise. Ces préceptes, les chantres du vrai ont voulu les appliquer de force à ce que tout nous désigne comme une forme retorse du mensonge : la littérature. Quelle est la légitimité de cette posture? N'est-on pas amené à la suspecter, à en reconnaître la fragilité et les impasses? Car, examinant l'inlassable guerre qui a opposé les tenants de la sincérité (Rousseau, Leiris, Sartre) à leurs (...) détracteurs (Molière, Laclos, Dostoïevski, Gary, Perec), on aperçoit se profiler une autre définition de ce qu'est la littérature. En toute mauvaise foi : ne serait-ce donc pas ainsi que les oeuvres se présentent à nous et se jouent de nous? C'est-à-dire en s'inscrivant dans une structure qui n'est ni le mensonge ni la vérité, mais leur mélange incertain. Qui affirme en niant et qui dément en proclamant. Sommes-nous pourtant prêts à accepter que tout discours échappe à ce qu'il est tout en continuant de l'être, à admettre que la littérature ne produise qu'une vérité, parfois contradictoire, et non la vérité? Percevoir la manière dont l'oeuvre pose la mauvaise foi, la suscite et la défie, c'est approcher ce qui constitue sa matière même, tant le moteur de ses intrigues que sa métaphysique implicite ou explicite. Mais c'est aussi repenser son rapport au lecteur, au réel et au savoir. Car il y a un paradoxe commun au menteur et au sincère que seule la mauvaise foi permet de décrire en s'arrachant à nos routines intellectuelles. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 27.2 (2003) 304-317 [Access article in PDF] Sovereign Love and Atomism in Racine's Bérénice Ellen Mcclure ALTHOUGH CRITICS HAVE NOTED links between the new science of the seventeenth century and the works of La Fontaine and Molière, 1 a similar influence of Epicureanism or even Cartesianism upon French classical tragedy is harder to trace. No two areas of seventeenth-century cultural life would seem farther apart than (...) the emerging science, with its rejection of Aristotelian categories as inadequate to experienced reality, and classical French tragedy, with its antimaterialism and claims to universal truth often bolstered by references to none other than Aristotle himself. Yet René Pintard reminds us that the 1660s and 1670s—the period when many of the tragedies we regard as "classical" were written—saw a strong renewal of interest in the philosophies articulated in the first half of the century. 2 So widespread was this interest that Pierre Gassendi's friend and follower Bernier was able to publish an edition and translation of the philosopher's works in 1674-1675 which proved to be a resounding success. It is hard to believe that the much-discussed new science somehow missed writers of tragedies, especially given the extensive contacts between Molière, La Fontaine and Racine.In this article, I demonstrate this influence by positing that Racine's play Bérénice, ostensibly a reworking of a well-known love story that Corneille was also producing on the Paris stage at the same time, is in part a reflection on the pressing question of what holds the universe together. Through his exploration of the possibility of satisfactory love between two independent sovereigns, Racine explores issues that the revival of Epicureanism had brought into the philosophical foreground. This reading of the play brings into focus the incredibly [End Page 304] important, yet too-often neglected, 3 role of Antiochus, the character whom Racine invented for his version of the play. I will show that his tragic in-betweenness offers a necessary alternative to Titus' and Bérénice's valorization of self-contained sovereignty. I Before embarking on a close reading of the play itself, however, I would like to offer a brief survey of the debate to which I believe Racine refers. Both Michel Foucault and Timothy Reiss have identified the seventeenth century as a transitional period between the age of correspondences exemplified in Aristotelian philosophy and the age of representation and quantification that characterized eighteenth-century thought. 4 This transition, however, was far from smooth, as philosophers sought to articulate a universe whose separate and radically de-hierarchized elements remained somehow joined together.For most seventeenth-century philosophers, the sacrifice of Aristotelian categories and scholasticism in no way lessened the imperative for a sense of divine order and causation. Gassendi's often self-contradictory efforts to reconcile Epicurus and Christianity provide perhaps the most striking example of this transitional struggle. The atomism posited by Epicurus through Lucretius posed particular difficulties for a Christian worldview. A world governed by the chance interactions of atoms eliminates any sense that things happen for a purpose; God cannot be the benevolent author and overseer of the universe. Gassendi's equal respect for atomism and for Christianity should be read as evidence of the profound struggle between separateness and interconnection (or, as Gassendi would call it, harmony) taking place during this period. 5 For, as Bloch points out, although Gassendi partially reconciled the demands of the two systems by situating atoms in an uncreated, infinite, and contiguous space and time, he continued to hold to the profoundly troubling existence of the void in the universe. Once again, the chief objection to the void implicit in atomism was religious, since if God is everywhere, the void cannot exist, and likewise, God cannot create nothing. The revival of stoicism supplied instead a vision of the universe ultimately comprised and held together by an ethereal pneuma that some neo-Stoics did not hesitate to identify as a sort of divine presence. 6 Descartes himself made heroic attempts, in his Principes... (shrink)

Les « commodités de la conversation », on le sait, désignaient spirituellement les fauteuils pour les Précieuses de Molière. Nous tentons de mettre en place les « commodités du silence », en nous défiant du mobilier habituel. À toutes les époques et sous toutes les civilisations, les lieux de l'énonciation ne se contentent pas de refléter les propos, ils participent à leur fabrication. Le babil à ciel ouvert dans le mail de Madame de Sévigné, les rudes affrontements verbaux de la (...) « case à palabres » - Etudes japonaises – Nouvel article. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.4 (2002) 641-644 [Access article in PDF] Erich Segal. The Death of Comedy. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001. xiv + 589 pp. Cloth, $35. "In a grand tour of comic theater over the centuries," says the jacket blurb, "Erich Segal traces the evolution of the classical form from its beginnings... to Samuel Beckett. With fitting wit, profound erudition lightly worn, and instructive [End Page (...) 641] examples from the mildly amusing to the uproarious, his book fully illustrates comedy's glorious life cycle from its first breath to its death in the Theater of the Absurd." I agree, in part: It's a grand tour, after the fashion of Segal's Dionysian Ivy-League lectures, mixing pleasure with instruction and reminding the reader of comedy's changing devices, delights, and powers in the different periods and locales in which Segal has made himself comfortably at home. He doesn't, of course, "fully illustrate"—and I don't think he's gotten comedy's "life cycle" quite right, especially that titular death. Rival comedy tour guides like myself will question this or that judgment call, especially in their specialties (and still more when their own supremely valuable writings go unacknowledged). Yet there is much to praise in this highly readable, highly entertaining book, which I shall happily put on the reserve shelf next time I teach Honors 28 ("Comedy and Satire") to my laughter-loving sophomores and juniors at UNC.Segal's first 250 pages, more than half the book, take us from comedy's hypothetical beginnings in holiday fun and revelry to Terence's beleaguered Hecyra. To the usual etymologies of "revel-" and "country-song" (from komos and kome) he adds the less familiar "nightsong" (from koma, "sleep"), anticipating the prominent place of dreamlike disguises, confusions, and misadventures in comedy and in the human unconscious as explored by Freud. In subsequent chapters, Segal sketches the rise and fall of Old Comedy, which reaches new heights in the imaginatively playful erections of Aristophanes' Acharnians, Peace, and Birds, thenceforth declining towards Middle Comedy as sex gives way to money, Phales to Plutus. A chapter on Euripides' Ion entitled "The Comic Catastrophe" (why not "Eucatastrophe"?) provides a helpful bridge to the familial concerns and dramatic conventions of the New Comedy of Menander. From there, pivoting on Plautus and Terence, Segal follows "the evolution and transmutations of the classical literary form" (256), from Machiavelli and Marlowe, through Shakespeare, Molière, Jonson, Wycherley, and Beaumarchais, to what he regards as its foul and unnatural murder by the Surrealists and Absurdists of the last century—even as the beginning of Beckett's Waiting for Godot ironically completes a great circle by recalling the beginning of Aristophanes' Birds.Through all this, Segal keeps up a good, brisk pace. He chooses his plays well, discussing them with a skillful mix of plot summary, paraphrase, quotation (the good, clear translations are his own), and lively running commentary. As classicists, we readers of AJP will have our professional quibbles, our personal bones to pick (some of them juicy) about Aristophanes' Clouds (underrated by Segal), say, or Terence's borrowings from Plautus (which he plays down); but we are amateurs, too, more easily pleased when it comes to Shakespeare or Molière. Here, two of Segal's leitmotifs seem most effective and affecting: First, the dreamlike movement of events in Comedy of Errors (after Menaechmi, but we should add Amphitruo for the twice-doubling) and in Twelfth Night, drifting out of shipwreck, through confusion of identity approaching nightmare and madness, to the komos and gamos of festive comedy—or is it Freudian wish-fulfillment?; second, the sad clown or playwright, poor old cuckolded Molière, pushing to his life's very [End Page 642] end the comic enactments of cuckoldry, sickness, aging, and (near) death. Which reminds me, painfully, of what a difference it would make to our overly naive or sophisticated readings of Aristophanes or Terence if we knew more, even a little more, about their life and work than the usual, all too meager hearsay.Like his beloved Plautus, Segal... (shrink)