Saturday, July 21, 2012

Filmer, Eliot, and Paleo-Conservatism

On the side (how many sides can one have?), I've been reading/collecting research on a very interesting pair of figures, whom I am beginning to think are more closely related than we have heretofore thought: Sir Robert Filmer, the seventeenth-century traditionalist political philosopher, and T.S. Eliot, the twentieth-century poet and conservative social thinker.

The interesting thing about Filmer is not (at least at first blush) his direct influence, which has been negligible, but the extent to which he has been misunderstood by the Lockeans, whose contractarian liberalism certainly carried the day against Filmer's patriarchalism. Famously, Locke responded to the argument of Filmer's Patriarcha in the first of his Two Treatises of Government, and Lockean contractarians have frequently defined themselves against a kind of Filmerian patriarchalism up to the present day: indeed, I heard exactly this opposition declared at a seminar panel earlier this year. Filmer represents for present-day Lockeans a kind of proto-paleo-con, and this is not an unreasonable construction, as a few influential paleo-cons have claimed Filmer as an important influence. I think, for instance, of M.E. Bradford, who took the side of Filmer, over against his erstwhile nemesis, Harry Jaffa, who took the side of Locke (see Bradford's "A neglected classic : Filmer's Patriarcha," in Saints, Sovereigns, and Scholars [1993]).

Interestingly, it now seems that the influence of Sir Robert on the paleo-conservative tradition has been mediated through T.S. Eliot, who appears to have written a couple of unsigned reviews of Filmer in 1828, a fact unearthed a few years back by David Bradshaw, a British scholar of modernism (see "Lonely Royalists: T.S. Eliot and Sir Robert Filmer," Review of English Studies 46.183 [1995]). As Bradshaw's argument suggests, Eliot's political thinking seems to have been influenced by Filmer's thought at a critical junction in his career, and in ways we haven't adequately realized yet. This could be an interesting trail to follow, because T.S. Eliot exerted a great influence on the American conservative Russell Kirk, and thus on what became the paleo-conservative movement as a whole (esp. important here are his Idea of a Christian Society [1939] and Notes Toward the Definition of Culture [1948]). So the historical tension between (Lockean) neo-conservatism and (Filmerian) paleo-conservatism does seem to go back at lest to the earlier Twentieth Century, even if we can't see much of it in the Nineteenth.

I said originally, though, that the Lockeans misunderstood Filmer, and here is what I meant: as a number of scholars have shown over the past few decades, Filmer was responding in the Patriarcha, not to Hobbes or some other proto-Lockean political thinker (though he did write against Hobbes, Milton, and others elsewhere), but to the late-scholastic political philosophy of Robert Bellarmine and Francisco Suarez, who had been developing Thomistic theories of natural rights, regicide, etc., over the half-century prior to Filmer's work. So while Locke's followers (and perhaps Locke himself) have tended to see the political-theoretical choice as between Filmerian patriarchalism and their own brand of secularized contract theory, that binary now seems too simple. Certainly, it was not so simple at the time Filmer and Locke were writing. So now, since we could very much use a fresh (yet theoretically dense and historically grounded) view of human nature and how to think about it in the modern world, it seems we might do well to look at Suarez and Bellarmine, and consider the extent to which they provide a tertium quid, a third way for those of us not entirely satisfied with either paleo- and neo-conservatism.


Stegner's English Professorly Novel

Just finished Wallace Stegner's Crossing to Safety last week, which struck home for at least three reasons (aside from being very pleasantly written and constructed):

1. It is an English professor's novel: about the challenges, pleasures, and injustices of the academic world (I remember one line to this effect: "Sure, Jesus was a great teacher, but what has he published?"). That said, it made think of what a large percentage of our intelligent contemporary novels are written by professors. Sure, I (an English professor) enjoyed Stegner's subject matter a great deal, but I'm not sure everyone would catch fire with it in the same way.

2. It is a book about getting used to New England yankees, an experience I have also had, as I married a Lexington, Mass. girl. Stegner's depiction of a strong, old-model New England woman is remarkable.

3. It is a book about being married to a strong woman, and this is another way of life about which I know a few things (and to be clear, I wouldn't trade my own strong wife for the world). Again, delicious insights into the way a powerwife operates: Charity Lang, the novel's central strongwoman, will be emblazoned on my memory from hence, a kind of archetype of her kind.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Belloc on the Early Years of Chesterton's Marriage

"Frances and Gilbert have a little flat
At eighty pounds a year and cheap at that
Where Frances who is Gilbert's only wife
Leads an unhappy and complaining life:
While Gilbert who is Frances' only man
Puts up with it as gamely as he can."

--scribbled on the wall of Chesterton's first study (which was lined all round with brown drawing paper, so C. could illustrate the room as he worked)

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Ker's Chesterton Biography

Taking a break from Aeneid prep to read Ian Ker, G.K. Chesterton: A Biography (Oxford, 2011), for a review due later in the summer. So far, I like it: other reviewers have accused Ker of including too much, and thus delivering a torpid, overstuffed biography no one will read. But Chesterton was great--he contained multitudes--and I can imagine Chestertonians passing through this large book quickly and with great enjoyment. We'll see whether I still feel the same in a few more days, though...

Monday, July 9, 2012

Fratantuono on Aeneid, Book Two

Fratantuono's commentary (Madness Unchained) has been good so far: unlike some other Aeneid commentaries I've looked at, he is everywhere concerned with the literary interpretation of the poem, bringing his considerable knowledge of the classical and Virgilian tradition to bear on the work's own inner trajectory. One small regret is that he does not spend any time trying to interpret the scene, early in Book Two, where the two Trojans, Capys and Thymoetes, argue about whether the Horse ought to be brought within the walls of the city. I (with my small Latin and less Greek) have been inclined to interpret their names as etymological hints: "Capys," which seems to hint at caput--the head--is arguing against bringing the horse in, while "Thymoetes"--pretty clearly drawn from the Greek thumos, for spiritedness or heart--urges that the colossus be brought within the city walls. The heart wins out over the head and the thing happens, to their downfall. This interpretation seems to jive with the Aeneid's general emphasis on rational rule over spiritedness and the passions, but is there a more-than-apparent connection in the Latin? I'm not the one to ask...

Meanwhile I hear the voice of my old Greek professor echoing in my ears: "etymology by sound does not make for sound etymology."

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Loeb Library, Downloadable

Working my way through Virgil again, I wanted to look something up in Lucretius, and found this marvelous webpage, where a guy (who looks to be a practicing radiologist) has collected links to all the available public-domain volumes in the Loeb Classical Library--all available in different places for downloading.