Knave or Fool?
Nov. 14th, 2014 06:59 pm“Tell me honestly . . . do you think me most a knave or a fool ?’” asked John Willoughby of Miss Dashwood, and I think it’s time we addressed that question directly with regards to our friend and mentor Albus.
Just because I love Jane Austen (and so, allegedly, does Rowling), here are two quotes in which a heroine is trying to figure out the true nature of a man of her acquaintance.
First, Lizzie Bennett abour Willoughby:
“As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of enquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors, under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice of many years continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. “ (Pride & Prejudice)
Second, Anne Elliott about her cousin:
“Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied that she really knew his character. That he … talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough. He certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article of moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been afraid to answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, if not the present…. The names which he occasionally dropt of former associates, the allusions to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not favourable of what he had been. She saw that … that there had been a period of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had been, at least, careless in all serious matters; and, though he might now think very differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of a clever, cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair character? How could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly cleansed?
“Mr. Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open….” (Persuasion)
(“Not open” as an indictment!—chokes on tea….)
So. Is our friend Albus in truth a heartless, even soulless villain like Tom, with the primary difference being that unlike Tom, Albus was “a clever, cautious man grown old enough to appreciate a fair character”?
Or can we find "some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence," that might rescue Albus from the attacks of marionros, oneandthetruth, the_bitter_word, and, er, me, among others; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors, under which we might endeavour to class what JKR has depicted as the idleness and vice of many years continuance?
I seriously don’t know the answer here. I look forward to the discussion.
I’ll start the ball rolling by saying that I see two things (and two only) that I don’t see how to explain by the “knave” theory.
One is Albus’s giving up both Gellert and the pursuit of world domination after his sister’s death. Why, unless continuing to pursue that shared dream had become impossible to reconcile with his own image of himself as a decent (ish) man? Even if he shook off Gellert only in disgust for Gellert's having abandoned him to the mess of hushing up their mutual murder, why abandon his grandiose dreams if he hadn’t had a change of heart—and therefore, a heart to change?
The second is the Birdbath of Doom. What was Albus sniveling about after drinking Tom’s potion, if he wasn’t feeling remorse or something like it?
Can anyone else find any irreducible attestations to virtue in his behavior, or conversely, unarguable evidence of his villainy?
I look forward to your responses!
Just because I love Jane Austen (and so, allegedly, does Rowling), here are two quotes in which a heroine is trying to figure out the true nature of a man of her acquaintance.
First, Lizzie Bennett abour Willoughby:
“As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of enquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors, under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice of many years continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. “ (Pride & Prejudice)
Second, Anne Elliott about her cousin:
“Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied that she really knew his character. That he … talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough. He certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article of moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been afraid to answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, if not the present…. The names which he occasionally dropt of former associates, the allusions to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not favourable of what he had been. She saw that … that there had been a period of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had been, at least, careless in all serious matters; and, though he might now think very differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of a clever, cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair character? How could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly cleansed?
“Mr. Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open….” (Persuasion)
(“Not open” as an indictment!—chokes on tea….)
So. Is our friend Albus in truth a heartless, even soulless villain like Tom, with the primary difference being that unlike Tom, Albus was “a clever, cautious man grown old enough to appreciate a fair character”?
Or can we find "some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence," that might rescue Albus from the attacks of marionros, oneandthetruth, the_bitter_word, and, er, me, among others; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors, under which we might endeavour to class what JKR has depicted as the idleness and vice of many years continuance?
I seriously don’t know the answer here. I look forward to the discussion.
I’ll start the ball rolling by saying that I see two things (and two only) that I don’t see how to explain by the “knave” theory.
One is Albus’s giving up both Gellert and the pursuit of world domination after his sister’s death. Why, unless continuing to pursue that shared dream had become impossible to reconcile with his own image of himself as a decent (ish) man? Even if he shook off Gellert only in disgust for Gellert's having abandoned him to the mess of hushing up their mutual murder, why abandon his grandiose dreams if he hadn’t had a change of heart—and therefore, a heart to change?
The second is the Birdbath of Doom. What was Albus sniveling about after drinking Tom’s potion, if he wasn’t feeling remorse or something like it?
Can anyone else find any irreducible attestations to virtue in his behavior, or conversely, unarguable evidence of his villainy?
I look forward to your responses!
no subject
Date: 2014-11-15 04:01 am (UTC)As for giving up world domination - perhaps he realized he didn't have what it took to pull it off. But immortality was still enticing, so he went to Flamel to learn alchemy. Alas he failed to make his own philosophers' stone. So very disappointed in himself, he went to teach (a man still needs to eat), and the constant contact with young impressionable children revealed to him a different path to domination (only in Britain).
There were those who wanted to see him as Minister, but Albus realized that Ministers were actually held responsible for failures (whether they were responsible for them or merely in the wrong seat at the wrong time). Headmasters generally got to do whatever they wanted until they were ready to retire on their own terms.
Playing at remorse in the cave?
Date: 2014-11-16 05:24 pm (UTC)My first reaction was, okay, I can buy Albus lying to Harry, but. I couldn't buy Tom trusting his Horcrux-protection to a potion that was so weak that Albus could fight off its true effects while staying enough in control to manufacture reactions for Harry's benefit.
And then I thought about it some more, and went: unless Albus had previously been there, brought back a sample of the potion, and had Severus create him an antidote.
Or RECOGNIZED the potion, and had Severus brew an antidote, or at least a palliative.
Because, in fact, it works even better if--wasn't it Swythyv (and/or Jodel) who argued that Tom had found and adapted to his own corrupt purposes a very ancient magical site? And maybe rite?
A lot of what's weird about that scene is susceptible to explanation if.
Well. Imagine this. There is a cave, and in the cave a lake, and in the lake an island to which one must cross alone. Others might accompany the initiate to the shore, but only one may cross the water. Alone, one approaches the pedestal with the basin. Alone, one drinks....
and experiences, yes, remorse. Or rather, hallucinates every error, every weakness, every act--every sin of commission and omission--for which one SHOULD feel remorse. Every one.
Most people wouldn't have the strength to force themselves to continue drinking. And those people who stopped drinking would die.
Only if you drain the basin to the dregs, have the strength and courage to fully face your every wrong and repent, can you drink of the water of the lake and live. Purified. Reborn.
What, I wonder, was originally at the bottom of that basin? Or was the original point simply to drink in full, and return transformed?
And Tom perverted THAT into a Horcrux-protection trap. Just by adding Inferi in the lake, which--in the wildly unlikely chance the person crossing the lake had the strength of character to drain the basin--would kill the successful drinker when the lake water was touched.
And Albus, yes, cheated by ingesting an antidote before he came with Harry. That explains his wildly inconsistent behavior afterwards--he's too weak to stand, weak as a newborn, in fact. Except when he needs not to be. When he needs to throw fire at the Inferi because Harry forgot his coaching, or fly a broom, or unravel the Hogwarts perimeter protections, he's perfectly capable.
And that means he always intended that night to be his death, and Severus to kill him in view of Harry. But Harry would be able to report that Albus had been killed after surviving the ritual.
Re: Playing at remorse in the cave?
Date: 2014-11-16 06:10 pm (UTC)Kreacher did of course drink the entire amount and the lake water, so at least for a while he was the purest magical being in Britain. (Assuming the presence of the inferi did not counter the purifying effect of the lake; in this case there would be no point in not-cheating.)
Re: Playing at remorse in the cave?
Date: 2014-11-18 12:24 pm (UTC)I like the idea of a purification ritual. It seems to ring true at some level for me. You could look at the birdbath as the 'cup of poison' and the lake like the blood part of the Host, in its original inception. I'd think that the inferi did contaminate the purity of the lake water.