Chapter 21

by Herman Melville

　　A HARD CASE."Yarbs, yarbs; natur, natur; you foolish old file you! He diddled youwith that hocus-pocus, did he? Yarbs and natur will cure your incurablecough, you think."It was a rather eccentric-looking person who spoke; somewhat ursine inaspect; sporting a shaggy spencer of the cloth called bear's-skin; ahigh-peaked cap of raccoon-skin, the long bushy tail switching overbehind; raw-hide leggings; grim stubble chin; and to end, adouble-barreled gun in hand--a Missouri bachelor, a Hoosier gentleman,of Spartan leisure and fortune, and equally Spartan manners andsentiments; and, as the sequel may show, not less acquainted, in aSpartan way of his own, with philosophy and books, than with woodcraftand rifles.He must have overheard some of the talk between the miser and theherb-doctor; for, just after the withdrawal of the one, he made up tothe other--now at the foot of the stairs leaning against the balusterthere--with the greeting above."Think it will cure me?" coughed the miser in echo; "why shouldn't it?The medicine is nat'ral yarbs, pure yarbs; yarbs must cure me.""Because a thing is nat'ral, as you call it, you think it must be good.But who gave you that cough? Was it, or was it not, nature?""Sure, you don't think that natur, Dame Natur, will hurt a body, doyou?""Natur is good Queen Bess; but who's responsible for the cholera?""But yarbs, yarbs; yarbs are good?""What's deadly-nightshade? Yarb, ain't it?""Oh, that a Christian man should speak agin natur and yarbs--ugh, ugh,ugh!--ain't sick men sent out into the country; sent out to natur andgrass?""Aye, and poets send out the sick spirit to green pastures, like lamehorses turned out unshod to the turf to renew their hoofs. A sort ofyarb-doctors in their way, poets have it that for sore hearts, as forsore lungs, nature is the grand cure. But who froze to death my teamsteron the prairie? And who made an idiot of Peter the Wild Boy?""Then you don't believe in these 'ere yarb-doctors?""Yarb-doctors? I remember the lank yarb-doctor I saw once on ahospital-cot in Mobile. One of the faculty passing round and seeing wholay there, said with professional triumph, 'Ah, Dr. Green, your yarbsdon't help ye now, Dr. Green. Have to come to us and the mercury now,Dr. Green.--Natur! Y-a-r-b-s!'""Did I hear something about herbs and herb-doctors?" here said aflute-like voice, advancing.It was the herb-doctor in person. Carpet-bag in hand, he happened to bestrolling back that way."Pardon me," addressing the Missourian, "but if I caught your wordsaright, you would seem to have little confidence in nature; which,really, in my way of thinking, looks like carrying the spirit ofdistrust pretty far.""And who of my sublime species may you be?" turning short round uponhim, clicking his rifle-lock, with an air which would have seemed halfcynic, half wild-cat, were it not for the grotesque excess of theexpression, which made its sincerity appear more or less dubious."One who has confidence in nature, and confidence in man, with somelittle modest confidence in himself.""That's your Confession of Faith, is it? Confidence in man, eh? Pray,which do you think are most, knaves or fools?""Having met with few or none of either, I hardly think I am competent toanswer.""I will answer for you. Fools are most.""Why do you think so?""For the same reason that I think oats are numerically more than horses.Don't knaves munch up fools just as horses do oats?""A droll, sir; you are a droll. I can appreciate drollery--ha, ha, ha!""But I'm in earnest.""That's the drollery, to deliver droll extravagance with an earnestair--knaves munching up fools as horses oats.--Faith, very droll,indeed, ha, ha, ha! Yes, I think I understand you now, sir. How silly Iwas to have taken you seriously, in your droll conceits, too, abouthaving no confidence in nature. In reality you have just as much as Ihave.""I have confidence in nature? I? I say again there is nothing I ammore suspicious of. I once lost ten thousand dollars by nature. Natureembezzled that amount from me; absconded with ten thousand dollars'worth of my property; a plantation on this stream, swept clean away byone of those sudden shiftings of the banks in a freshet; ten thousanddollars' worth of alluvion thrown broad off upon the waters.""But have you no confidence that by a reverse shifting that soil willcome back after many days?--ah, here is my venerable friend," observingthe old miser, "not in your berth yet? Pray, if you will keep afoot,don't lean against that baluster; take my arm."It was taken; and the two stood together; the old miser leaning againstthe herb-doctor with something of that air of trustful fraternity withwhich, when standing, the less strong of the Siamese twins habituallyleans against the other.The Missourian eyed them in silence, which was broken by theherb-doctor."You look surprised, sir. Is it because I publicly take under myprotection a figure like this? But I am never ashamed of honesty,whatever his coat.""Look you," said the Missourian, after a scrutinizing pause, "you are aqueer sort of chap. Don't know exactly what to make of you. Upon thewhole though, you somewhat remind me of the last boy I had on my place.""Good, trustworthy boy, I hope?""Oh, very! I am now started to get me made some kind of machine to dothe sort of work which boys are supposed to be fitted for.""Then you have passed a veto upon boys?""And men, too.""But, my dear sir, does not that again imply more or less lack ofconfidence?--(Stand up a little, just a very little, my venerablefriend; you lean rather hard.)--No confidence in boys, no confidence inmen, no confidence in nature. Pray, sir, who or what may you haveconfidence in?""I have confidence in distrust; more particularly as applied to you andyour herbs.""Well," with a forbearing smile, "that is frank. But pray, don't forgetthat when you suspect my herbs you suspect nature.""Didn't I say that before?""Very good. For the argument's sake I will suppose you are in earnest.Now, can you, who suspect nature, deny, that this same nature not onlykindly brought you into being, but has faithfully nursed you to yourpresent vigorous and independent condition? Is it not to nature that youare indebted for that robustness of mind which you so unhandsomely useto her scandal? Pray, is it not to nature that you owe the very eyes bywhich you criticise her?""No! for the privilege of vision I am indebted to an oculist, who in mytenth year operated upon me in Philadelphia. Nature made me blind andwould have kept me so. My oculist counterplotted her.""And yet, sir, by your complexion, I judge you live an out-of-door life;without knowing it, you are partial to nature; you fly to nature, theuniversal mother.""Very motherly! Sir, in the passion-fits of nature, I've known birds flyfrom nature to me, rough as I look; yes, sir, in a tempest, refugehere," smiting the folds of his bearskin. "Fact, sir, fact. Come, come,Mr. Palaverer, for all your palavering, did you yourself never shut outnature of a cold, wet night? Bar her out? Bolt her out? Lint her out?""As to that," said the herb-doctor calmly, "much may be said.""Say it, then," ruffling all his hairs. "You can't, sir, can't." Then,as in apostrophe: "Look you, nature! I don't deny but your clover issweet, and your dandelions don't roar; but whose hailstones smashed mywindows?""Sir," with unimpaired affability, producing one of his boxes, "I ampained to meet with one who holds nature a dangerous character. Thoughyour manner is refined your voice is rough; in short, you seem to have asore throat. In the calumniated name of nature, I present you with thisbox; my venerable friend here has a similar one; but to you, a freegift, sir. Through her regularly-authorized agents, of whom I happen tobe one, Nature delights in benefiting those who most abuse her. Pray,take it.""Away with it! Don't hold it so near. Ten to one there is a torpedo init. Such things have been. Editors been killed that way. Take it furtheroff, I say.""Good heavens! my dear sir----""I tell you I want none of your boxes," snapping his rifle."Oh, take it--ugh, ugh! do take it," chimed in the old miser; "I wish hewould give me one for nothing.""You find it lonely, eh," turning short round; "gulled yourself, youwould have a companion.""How can he find it lonely," returned the herb-doctor, "or how desire acompanion, when here I stand by him; I, even I, in whom he has trust.For the gulling, tell me, is it humane to talk so to this poor old man?Granting that his dependence on my medicine is vain, is it kind todeprive him of what, in mere imagination, if nothing more, may help ekeout, with hope, his disease? For you, if you have no confidence, and,thanks to your native health, can get along without it, so far, atleast, as trusting in my medicine goes; yet, how cruel an argument touse, with this afflicted one here. Is it not for all the world as ifsome brawny pugilist, aglow in December, should rush in and put out ahospital-fire, because, forsooth, he feeling no need of artificial heat,the shivering patients shall have none? Put it to your conscience, sir,and you will admit, that, whatever be the nature of this afflicted one'strust, you, in opposing it, evince either an erring head or a heartamiss. Come, own, are you not pitiless?""Yes, poor soul," said the Missourian, gravely eying the old man--"yes,it is pitiless in one like me to speak too honestly to one like you.You are a late sitter-up in this life; past man's usual bed-time; andtruth, though with some it makes a wholesome breakfast, proves to all asupper too hearty. Hearty food, taken late, gives bad dreams.""What, in wonder's name--ugh, ugh!--is he talking about?" asked the oldmiser, looking up to the herb-doctor."Heaven be praised for that!" cried the Missourian."Out of his mind, ain't he?" again appealed the old miser."Pray, sir," said the herb-doctor to the Missourian, "for what were yougiving thanks just now?""For this: that, with some minds, truth is, in effect, not so cruel athing after all, seeing that, like a loaded pistol found by poor devilsof savages, it raises more wonder than terror--its peculiar virtue beingunguessed, unless, indeed, by indiscreet handling, it should happen togo off of itself.""I pretend not to divine your meaning there," said the herb-doctor,after a pause, during which he eyed the Missourian with a kind ofpinched expression, mixed of pain and curiosity, as if he grieved at hisstate of mind, and, at the same time, wondered what had brought him toit, "but this much I know," he added, "that the general cast of yourthoughts is, to say the least, unfortunate. There is strength in them,but a strength, whose source, being physical, must wither. You will yetrecant.""Recant?""Yes, when, as with this old man, your evil days of decay come on, whena hoary captive in your chamber, then will you, something like thedungeoned Italian we read of, gladly seek the breast of that confidencebegot in the tender time of your youth, blessed beyond telling if itreturn to you in age.""Go back to nurse again, eh? Second childhood, indeed. You are soft.""Mercy, mercy!" cried the old miser, "what is all this!--ugh, ugh! Dotalk sense, my good friends. Ain't you," to the Missourian, "going tobuy some of that medicine?""Pray, my venerable friend," said the herb-doctor, now trying tostraighten himself, "don't lean quite so hard; my arm grows numb;abate a little, just a very little.""Go," said the Missourian, "go lay down in your grave, old man, if youcan't stand of yourself. It's a hard world for a leaner.""As to his grave," said the herb-doctor, "that is far enough off, so hebut faithfully take my medicine.""Ugh, ugh, ughugh! a going to dieyet--ugh, ugh, ugh! Many years to live yet, ugh, ugh, ugh!""I approve your confidence," said the herb-doctor; "but your coughingdistresses me, besides being injurious to you. Pray, let me conduct youto your berth. You are best there. Our friend here will wait till myreturn, I know."With which he led the old miser away, and then, coming back, the talkwith the Missourian was resumed."Sir," said the herb-doctor, with some dignity and more feeling, "nowthat our infirm friend is withdrawn, allow me, to the full, to expressmy concern at the words you allowed to escape you in his hearing. Someof those words, if I err not, besides being calculated to begetdeplorable distrust in the patient, seemed fitted to convey unpleasantimputations against me, his physician.""Suppose they did?" with a menacing air."Why, then--then, indeed," respectfully retreating, "I fall back upon myprevious theory of your general facetiousness. I have the fortune to bein company with a humorist--a wag.""Fall back you had better, and wag it is," cried the Missourian,following him up, and wagging his raccoon tail almost into theherb-doctor's face, "look you!""At what?""At this coon. Can you, the fox, catch him?""If you mean," returned the other, not unselfpossessed, "whether Iflatter myself that I can in any way dupe you, or impose upon you, orpass myself off upon you for what I am not, I, as an honest man, answerthat I have neither the inclination nor the power to do aught of thekind.""Honest man? Seems to me you talk more like a craven.""You in vain seek to pick a quarrel with me, or put any affront upon me.The innocence in me heals me.""A healing like your own nostrums. But you are a queer man--a very queerand dubious man; upon the whole, about the most so I ever met."The scrutiny accompanying this seemed unwelcome to the diffidence of theherb-doctor. As if at once to attest the absence of resentment, as wellas to change the subject, he threw a kind of familiar cordiality intohis air, and said: "So you are going to get some machine made to do yourwork? Philanthropic scruples, doubtless, forbid your going as far as NewOrleans for slaves?""Slaves?" morose again in a twinkling, "won't have 'em! Bad enough tosee whites ducking and grinning round for a favor, without having thosepoor devils of niggers congeeing round for their corn. Though, to me,the niggers are the freer of the two. You are an abolitionist, ain'tyou?" he added, squaring himself with both hands on his rifle, used fora staff, and gazing in the herb-doctor's face with no more reverencethan if it were a target. "You are an abolitionist, ain't you?""As to that, I cannot so readily answer. If by abolitionist you mean azealot, I am none; but if you mean a man, who, being a man, feels forall men, slaves included, and by any lawful act, opposed to nobody'sinterest, and therefore, rousing nobody's enmity, would willinglyabolish suffering (supposing it, in its degree, to exist) from amongmankind, irrespective of color, then am I what you say.""Picked and prudent sentiments. You are the moderate man, the invaluableunderstrapper of the wicked man. You, the moderate man, may be used forwrong, but are useless for right.""From all this," said the herb-doctor, still forgivingly, "I infer, thatyou, a Missourian, though living in a slave-state, are without slavesentiments.""Aye, but are you? Is not that air of yours, so spiritlessly enduringand yielding, the very air of a slave? Who is your master, pray; or areyou owned by a company?""My master?""Aye, for come from Maine or Georgia, you come from a slave-state, and aslave-pen, where the best breeds are to be bought up at any price from alivelihood to the Presidency. Abolitionism, ye gods, but expresses thefellow-feeling of slave for slave.""The back-woods would seem to have given you rather eccentric notions,"now with polite superiority smiled the herb-doctor, still with manlyintrepidity forbearing each unmanly thrust, "but to return; since, foryour purpose, you will have neither man nor boy, bond nor free, truly,then some sort of machine for you is all there is left. My desires foryour success attend you, sir.--Ah!" glancing shoreward, "here is CapeGirdeau; I must leave you."