Knave or Fool?

[terri-testing.livejournal.com]

“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!

Comments

[mary-j-59.livejournal.com]

That's interesting, because, I believe, one definition of evil is weakness. It's not a positive quality in itself, rather, it's lack of integrity and the absence of good. And I'd say those things do define Albus Dumbledore, even more than they define Tom Riddle. Both are weak, I think, but Dumbledore is more so.

That said, there are some villains who are driven by recognizable human emotions like anger, envy, pride and fear. Villains like these seem more capable of redemption than those who, on some basic level, simply aren't there. Albus Dumbledore may well be one of the latter - a hollow man. C.S. Lewis called them men without chests.

[sweettalkeress.livejournal.com]

It's interesting that you bring that up because this past summer I watched an anime featuring a villain who, as you say, just wasn't all there. And he was easily the scariest villain in a series with some pretty terrifying people. He could go through the day with a beautiful boyish smile on his face and at the same time plot to wipe out most of humanity and strangle a man to death with his bare hands for crossing him. What made him interesting was trying to figure out how and why he wasn't all there and to what extent he wasn't all there (it's implied, though never spelled out, that he'd gone numb from post-traumatic stress).