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Paneloux and the lesser plague

My brain being what it is, I cannot help categorizing the rest of the main characters.

Paneloux was fully plague stricken when he delivered his Jeremiad, but repented partially.  He was at the beginning separate from the concerns of every day life.  As Rieux noted, it is one thing to speak of death in the abstract, and another to be a Parish priest who often watches men breathe their last breath.

And to his credit, he realized it.  And I think in him Camus is presenting the only version of Christianity which makes sense to him, which is one in which EVERYTHING is God’s Will, and if He is just, and it is His will, then our job is to accept it, whatever it is.

I think Camus himself, while not holding this view, of course, was sympathetic to it.  It is logically consistent, and not contradicted by life as we live it.  I recall  William James discussing this strand within Christianity too, in a book I need to reread (everything he wrote is worth reading 2-3 times, from what I can tell) in his Varieties of the Religious Experience.

And how does Paneloux die?  Not quite of the plague.  His death certificate or note reads “Case Doubtful”.  I think the double meaning there can be assumed to be quite intentional, and the translation reasonably faithful.

Rambert represents the notion that in a plague stricken world, happiness is still possible, as both an ideal and a present reality, and is worth pursuing, sometimes at the expense of others.  And the reasoning is simple:  if no one is happy, then what is the point of anything?  The happily in love, in such a world, become our hopes and perhaps even in their own ways our saints.  Rambert, of course, lived too.  I forgot to mention him.

Love, in small ways, with small people, is one of our true comforts, and no person able to avail themselves of such comfort should go without.  We need such things.  We become more human with them, and more “abstract”–again, to use Rieux’ term– without them.

And I will add that the precise virtues of both Grand and the Spaniard (who may have had a name, but I can’t recall it) were their small ambitions.  Grand wrote and rewrote a single sentence.  It was not much, but it was very important to him, and it provided him what little satisfaction he had in his life.  He was, you will recall (or notice this if I am lucky enough to inspire someone to read the book), the first one to recover spontaneously from the plague.

And the Spaniard, likewise, said he would never get the plague because he–I think I am quoting here–“knew how to live”.  And he didn’t die of the plague.  He got through just fine.

As I would view all this, it is very Taoist.  Lao Tzu just means “Old venerable Master”, something like that. These themes and ideas were old 2,500 years ago.  A certain person may have written them, and actively rejected being named as the author, or they may be a compilation of many such individuals.  Or maybe they knew at one time who wrote it, and it was forgotten in the countless wars and conflicts and disasters–the countless plagues, some of them literal plagues–since then.

One last point (I often say in bars I am going to have “one more” but I’m not sure what the multiplier is; most people don’t get it), the plague mutates from Bubonic to Pneumonic, which is more dangerous.

Can one variety of delusion not migrate easily to another?  Do people not continually claim to be “fixing” some problem, while creating worse problems?  As I argue often, this is the primary, perhaps defining, activity of the political Left in this and most other countries.  It is not about compassion, but it invokes compassion.  In abusing language ALONE they make things worse, and most of their actual nostrums–their actual policies–make their patients worse.  The inability–which amounts of course to an unwillingness–to see this is what makes it the plague.