supercherie
(n.) [suˌpɛrʃəˈri] — (1) an attack made upon a person at a disadvantage; foul play; an instance of this. Also, in figurative context. Obsolete. Rare. (2) chiefly in French contexts, or after French use. Trickery, deception, deceit. Also, an instance of this; a trick, a piece of deception (OED)
On first glance and after a quick perusal, you’d think this word might designate a once-in-a-lifetime love, a bunmuffin, a lambikins, one’s “soul-mate” or honeybunch, the one person in all the world with whom one feels, nay, could ever feel him or herself as deeply “in love,” as the saying goes. And yet, such an initial conclusion would be a gross error arrived at, as most such errors are, from a far too-hasty conclusion resulting from, at least in part, an eager readiness to congratulate oneself for being so bloody clever and even a trifle bi-lingual. But as you can see, the word actually points to either an unfair and so, an immoral advantage one could take to bully or cheat another, perhaps by committing a grossly destructive assault on someone or ones who are without commensurate means of defense, as might occur in a surprise attack, which circumstances and considerations imply that the appropriate accompanying sentiments ought to be shame and remorse rather than elation or ecstasy, or even gratitude, if one should be older and less inclined to experience rapturous emotional transportation. I cannot here avoid making the point that both sides in the current eruption of violence in Israel have committed a supercherie of sorts on one another, though it does seem to me, given some minimally impartial knowledge and understanding of the full context of the situation, that one side’s supercherie clearly exceeds by a wide margin the other’s in its level of depraved immorality—a sort of super-super-super-supercherie, as it were.
At a somewhat reduced level of moral turpitude is supercherie when it occurs in imagination and fiction and involves combat between individuals. Michel de Montaigne, in discussing the practice of bringing a second along should you be challenged to a fight, notes that in the old days such seconds were brought to see to it that the combat remained orderly and fair. But things have evolved such that now (in 1603) and most probably today as well these attendants feel themselves compelled to enter the fray lest they be thought lily-livered or insufficiently “affectionate” or partisan. But in such cases, it may come to pass that,
If your fellow chance to faile, you [will] have two vpon you, … And to say, it is a Superchiery, as it is indeed: as being wel armed, to charge a man who hath but a piece of a sword, or being sound and strong, to set vpon a man sore hurt. But if they [the situation of being one-up] be advantages you have gotten [in the course of the fight], you may vse them without imputation. Disparitie is not considered, and inequallity is not balanced, but by the state wherin the fight is begunne.1
Thus, it appears Montaigne has no moral objection to a fight’s becoming unequal; such a contest, in his eyes, wouldn’t be supercherie, because at its outset it started with roughly equal combatants and was therefore “fair,” however that initial equality of condition might have been assessed. Montaigne would probably be an equality of opportunity, not an equality of outcome advocate. But suppose your pal gets sucker-punched?
Using the word in something like a “French context” puts us on what feels like more familiar ground where usage of our WOTD seems more straightforward, though still morally tinged, as this sort of supercherie does involve deceit and deception (“d & d”), though we’re not talking here about the sort of “d & d” common and in fact indispensable among magicians, who by and large escape ethical censure for their professional use of “d & d.” Of course, just like the rest of us, they may be eligible for condemnation or sanction for other reasons.
One such occurrence of supercherie appeared in The Eclectic Magazine in 1891. In a long summative review2 originally published in Blackwood’s Magazine (Edinburgh and London) of the work of a number of authors of crime fiction, including Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, the anonymous author considers the work of Mary Elizabeth Braddon, specifically Braddon’s character Lady Audley from Braddon’s 1862 novel Lady Audley’s Secret, a character who cuts a swath of devastation through, most notably, the lives of the men in her life.
Her crimes came of deliberate calculation. When her first husband turns up to convict her of bigamy, in her prudent respect for the law she would gladly elude him by a supercherie. She tries the plan of a feigned death and burial. That fails: the meddlesome idiot, unfortunately for himself, is inspired by a veritable passion; and Providence brings him down to her noble new home in the eastern counties. He must go or else be removed—there is no other alternative. So when things have come to a crisis, she cuts short an angry altercation by dropping him down the old well in the gloomy shrubbery. Tant pis pour lui, is her reflection; and if the secret were between the well and the shrubs and herself, it would scarcely trouble her, for she has no conscience.3
Which doesn’t, on the evidence provided, strike me as a fair and balanced conclusion; Lady Audley seems more a survivor driven to extremity, including to a good bit of supercherie and whatever else, and God knows, there’s an increasing amount of both extremity and supercherie out there these days, a hundred and sixty odd years after Lady Audley, poor thing, ended up in an asylum.
Michel de Montaigne, The Essayes, or Morall, Politike, and Millitarie Discourses of Lord Michaell de Montaigne, Knight of the Noble Order of St. Michaell, and one of the Gentlemen in Ordinary of the French King, Henry the third his Chamber. Translated by John Florio. 1st edition. 1 volume. (London: Printed by Val. Sims for Edward Blount dwelling in Paules churchyard, 1603), Book ii., Chapter xxvii., p. 400. See The essayes, or, Morall, politike and millitarie discourses of Lo. Michaell de Montaigne, Knight of the noble Order of St. Michaell, and one of the gentlemen in ordinary of the French King, Henry the Third his chamber : the first booke : Montaigne, Michel de, 1533-1592 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive
The Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science and Art, Volume 53, Issue 1, February 1891, pp. 217-230. See The Electric Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science and Art 1891-02: Vol 53 Iss 2 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive
Ibid. p. 229/2.