‘The snake, not only because of original sin, all the virtues and vices that are attributed to the snake…’ (Derrida, 317)
‘The snake here is "someone." And so "someone" is somebody, not as much qui as quelqu'un in French, but you don't say "someone" about a stone), "Someone was before me at my water-trough,/ And I, like a second comer, waiting."’ (Derrida, 319)
‘I remember something Levinas often says, namely that morality, ethics, begins with an "After you:' Arte r you. T he first sign of respect for the other is "after you." This doesn't just mean something like "go ahead" at the elevator, etc., It means " I come after you,"’ (Derrida, 319)
IT IS A GOLDEN SNAKE = PHAROAHS’ COLORS
‘The scene described by Lawrence is immediately the scene of a fight to the death. “The voice of my education said to me / He must be killed,"’ (Derrida, 321)
‘"If you were a man ...," initially it's a hypothesis; " If you were a man,.:' evidently in the sense of a human being, but also of courage, of the virile man who, in a duel must annihilate his victim. "And voices in me said, If you were a man / You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off."’ (Derrida, 321)
‘this is a classic scene, a classic biblical scene, a classic Middle Eastern scene; it happens near a source of water, the scene of hospitality takes place near a source of water, in an oasis or near a well, and the question of hospitality is posed as to water, as to the disposition of the water source.’ (Derrida, 322)
‘So you have here the human race, the signatory of the poem, the one who says '' I" and who hears voices saying to him; " If you were a man…," the humanity of man, [and] there is the beast, the snake… but the beast resembles a god.’ (Derrida, 324)
‘And as he put his head into that dreadful hole, [There's the head . . . This snake has a head.]’ (Derrida, 324)
‘The snake, the beast, becomes the sovereign after having been, if not assassinated, at least the target of an attempt on his life, an act of hatred on the part of the man. The beast becomes the sovereign, the kin g. "Uncrowned," but waiting for the crown, on the way to being crowned.’ (Derrida, 325)
‘when Freud explains the origin of the moral superego via the murder of the father, when the sons agree on equality between them after the murder of the father. Freud—and this is one of the contradictions in what he says—specifies that it is when the sons or the brothers feel remorse after me murder of the father that morality is born […] But the contradiction is that in order for there to be remorse, the moral law would already have to be in place.’ (Derrida, 328)
‘Why the albatross? The snake is a reptile, the low, an animal of the earth, of humus (humility, humus), and that is why he keeps emphasizing he earth.’ (Derrida, 328)
‘I was thinking that if we had the time, we'd pause over this "like." Why is the snake not a king but "like a king," resembling what a king is in human politics? But not only is he only analogous to a king, he is "like a king,” he is not a king, but he is like a king who is not a king, for two reasons (you remember the three lines): because he is in exile, he's a king not exercising power, a king without power, a king dethroned in a sense—and the scene of exile, obviously, is consonant with the scene of hospitality (they go together, exile and hospitality, those asking for hospitality are exiles), it is the scene of the home, of what is at home without being at home, unheimlich (we'll come back to that next week), unheimlich, all this is unheimlich, the most familiar and the most strange, the most disturbing, the most terrible also (unheimlich is a word with which, often in fact, I'll come back to this too next week, Heidegger translates the Greek word deinon in Sophocles, i.e. the terrible, the terrifying, he says that man is what is most unhcimlich, most disoriented and disorienting, at-home-not-at-home), this whole scene is unhcimlich, and obviously Unnheimlichkeit, the fact of being at home away from home is a scene of both exile and hospitality: the exiled, those asking for asylum and hospitality are not at home, they are seeking a home, and here is the man who takes them in or not, at his water-hole that is a water source, a resource for the guests or guest-exiles or those seeking asylum—so he is like a king, but he is not a reigning king, for he is in exile and he has no crown, he is
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld.
Now due to be crowned again.’ (Derrida, 329)
‘Provisionally in exile, the snake signals toward a kingdom to be restored, from his exile i.e. a scene that banished him. What is striking in this poem, which is clearly an ironic or perverse translation of the Garden of Eden, is that what is banished, exiled, is the snake, not Adam and Eve but the snake. The victim in all this, Adam's victim ("Adam") means the earth), the victim is the snake. We need to reread the Bible because, at bottom, the one to be sorriest for in this whole story is the snake! (Laughter.) That's not usually how it gets read! And there is no woman here, no woman, just a man and a snake.’ (Derrida, 329)