Édouard Manet: Excerpt from a book, Les Chats (1870)
published by J. Rothschild
and Libraire de la Société Botanique de France
typography by Gustave Silbermann,
printed by Cardart et Luce

Book with five etchings, two with aquatint and three with plate tone, one color lithograph, and line block prints, two with hand-coloring, with letterpress in black on ivory wove paper, with cardboard and paper cover and leather spine with gilt lettering

"May Grace grant us respite from our Defiant nature, even when we steadfastly refuse to ask for it."

Go ahead. Tell me not to do something. Refuse permission. Forbid anything. I dare you. I encourage you, for nothing better fuels my forward momentum than a decent or even an indecent Defiance. I will insist, somehow, on getting satisfaction, and I will damned well succeed. Vengence becometh mine in those moments, and I wield my very own terrible and shockingly swift sword. I might even become self-righteous, for I will feel wronged and surely—certainly— set out to somehow right that wrong, believing it my birthright. It will become a matter of honor and self-respect, and I might barter every ounce of respect anybody other than me ever invested in me, but I will succeed, even if the success kills me. Do not ever tell me, "No!"

I think people generally refuse to do what they're told. They might appear to comply but then take their own damned time to do it. They might comply in such a way that the commander survives to rue the moment he presumed the ability to tell anybody anything, for it breaks something precious when someone does this to us. I prefer a little consultation. I want my preferences considered in the equation so that I might leverage the situation to my own advantage. Why not? Why not engage rather than command? The argument that others might not agree might only mean that some better alternative has yet to be considered. It might mean, if people seem to need to be commanded, that whatever's trying to be attempted should not go forward. Ordering perfectly good people into their valley of the shadow of death has never once turned out to be among the better decisions anyone's ever made. They've historically been the worst.

This country was founded on Defiance. Over the decades since, Defiance has been our constant companion, our most consistent ally. We employ it as our default response, We protest. We steadfastly refuse to take any "No!" for any kind of reasonable answer. It seems as though every state features a Fort Defiance, typically founded in defiance of some human decency, usually to deny a native population their traditions. Not one of these ever turned out as their builders intended. They believed that nobody would ever be able to break their barriers, but every one—every damned and damnable one— broke, and much more quickly than even their defiers expected, though never without tragic and otherwise avoidable loss of life and sacred tradition. Generations have not forgotten, nor will innumerable future ones ever forget.

Regret though we might, we're stuck with this DNA. We were made this way, and we've done what we can to reinforce and even expand on the original. I was always fascinated by how we, the big country that touts ourselves as a BIG D Democracy, have nonetheless supported a succession of tin-pot dictators every bit as terrible or worse than old King George when he incited our original ire. Defiance seems to beget itself as surely and as certainly as anything ever has. But try, go ahead and try to deny its attraction. We're like cats with string. Defiance draws our attention and insists upon a strong, immediate, unequal, and opposite reaction. In this way, it hypnotizes us; it hypnotizes me. Few of us seem able to see through its false promise to conceive of the underlying malice we employ in response. Deny me, and I'll see you to your grave. Refuse my wishes, and I'll start plotting to see you swimming with the fishes. I probably won't notice myself meticulously plotting my own demise.

Several of my forebears, each self-proclaimed "Indian fighters," were put low by their Defiance. They ultimately defied one too many and paid the price they'd intended their opponents to pay. To this day, I wonder if they could have found another way. Their misogyny and racism seemed to rule them, overwhelming what probably should have been inescapable logic and reason. So they became unreasonable, and their resulting arrogance and self-importance did them in. They deserved no better after meticulously planning the same end for their trumped-up enemies when they could have lived together in peace instead. I am no better than the most suggestive cat with a string. I might as well be looped on catnip. Vengence was never actually mine or, I suspect, the Lord's, but just an unfortunate artifact of centuries of indoctrination. We are as a nation as we are to a person. May Grace grant us respite from our Defiant nature, even when we steadfastly refuse to ask for it.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Grace, #PureSchmaltz