Three passages I underlined from my morning reading:
“He was one of the numerous and varied legion of dullards, of half-animate abortions, conceited, half-educated idiots, who attach themselves to the idea most in fashion only to vulgarize it and who caricature every cause they serve, however sincerely.”
—Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment, part 5, chapter 1.
Dostoevsky is describing social media. It feels like it, anyway. Andrei Lebezyatnikov, the real target of this passages, is an enthusiastic but muddleheaded follower of the progressive doctrines fashionable in 1860s St. Petersburg, talks grandly about socialism, communal living and women’s emancipation without having thought very deeply about any of them. (I mean, he didn’t even hoist them up on Substack early on a Sunday morning.)
Dostoevsky’s complaint is not merely that the man is foolish, but that a foolish advocate can degrade even a worthy cause by turning it into fashion and performance. We’d call it virtue signaling today. But because this is Dostoevsky, Lebezyatnikov is likely to play a role later, and we hope your correspondent doesn’t get confused by the Russian naming conventions, as he is all the time, and remembers who Lebezyatnikov is when he comes around again—if he does.1
“We will have King Bard!” the people near at hand shouted in reply. “We have had enough of the old men and the money-counters!” And people further off took up the cry: “Up the Bowman, and down with Moneybags,” till the clamour echoed along the shore.
“I am the last man to undervalue Bard the Bowman,” said the Master warily (for Bard now stood close beside him). “He has tonight earned an eminent place in the roll of the benefactors of our town; and he is worthy of many imperishable songs. But, why O People?”—and here the Master rose to his feet and spoke very loud and clear—“Why do I get all your blame? For what fault am I to be deposed? Who aroused the dragon from his slumber, I might ask? Who obtained of us rich gifts and ample help, and led us to believe that old songs could come true? Who played on our soft hearts and our pleasant fancies? What sort of gold have they sent down the river to reward us? Dragon-fire and ruin! From whom should we claim the recompense of our damage, and aid for our widows and orphans?”
As you see, the Master had not got his position for nothing.”
—J. R. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit; or, There and Back Again (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1937), chap. 14, “Fire and Water.”
I’m re-reading The Hobbit. The last time I read it was 2000. I think this is my third time through. I had forgotten the political aspect of the ending. It reads as very contemporary!
Spoiler! After Bard kills Smaug , the homeless survivors of Lake-town acclaim him and turn against their ineffectual Master. The Master rescues himself with an enduring political maneuver: praise the rival you cannot safely attack (who is standing right next to you), deny responsibility, and redirect the crowd’s anger toward a more distant target
.
“A Trappist monk has left the world behind him. Public success, for him, inevitably takes on the character of a defeat. I had to find out that in the plans of Divine Providence there is no such thing as a defeat and that every step is, or ought to be, a step forward into the wilderness—and that even publicity can nourish humility.”
—Thomas Merton2, The Sign of Jonas (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1953).
The Sign of Jonas draws on the journal Merton kept from 1946 to 1952 at the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky. He wrote in the wake of the enormous success of The Seven Storey Mountain.3 Paradox! The monk who had renounced the world had become famous in it.
This passage is typical of his mental systems where he turns incoming thoughts into acts of devotion. He’s trying to understand fame not simply as a corruption of the monastic life but as another occasion for surrendering his pride.
The amount of time Merton spends focusing on humility would surprise anyone who observes the gaudy public lives of those who proclaim their adherence to the same faith Merton practiced.
Is there a through-line? They were not picked with each other in mind. I could conjure a through-line, but then I’d be stealing the fun from you.
In working on this passage, I discovered Lit2Go, a wonderful free collection from the University of South Florida that pairs classic texts with audiobook recordings. I like the recordings because they sound like a real person reading, not a performer. It also has downloadable PDFs, citations, playing times, word counts and readability information—the kind of useful, generous corner of the internet one worries the internet has stopped making.
When I visited the Abbey this spring I learned that most people who saw Merton during this early part of his fame had no idea he was the author of the famous book. Even his brothers didn’t know!
John, you are a gem. Just when I’m beginning to give up hope for humanity, you write something that directs our view to higher heights!
The name Lebezyatnikov contains the Russian stem for the word "fawn," as in brown-nose, not deer. Fitting. I will re-read the Hobbit!