Chapter 24

by Herman Melville

　　A PHILANTHROPIST UNDERTAKES TO CONVERT A MISANTHROPE, BUT DOES NOT GETBEYOND CONFUTING HIM."Hands off!" cried the bachelor, involuntarily covering dejection withmoroseness."Hands off? that sort of label won't do in our Fair. Whoever in our Fairhas fine feelings loves to feel the nap of fine cloth, especially when afine fellow wears it.""And who of my fine-fellow species may you be? From the Brazils, ain'tyou? Toucan fowl. Fine feathers on foul meat."This ungentle mention of the toucan was not improbably suggested by theparti-hued, and rather plumagy aspect of the stranger, no bigot it wouldseem, but a liberalist, in dress, and whose wardrobe, almost anywherethan on the liberal Mississippi, used to all sorts of fantasticinformalities, might, even to observers less critical than the bachelor,have looked, if anything, a little out of the common; but not more soperhaps, than, considering the bear and raccoon costume, the bachelor'sown appearance. In short, the stranger sported a vesture barred withvarious hues, that of the cochineal predominating, in styleparticipating of a Highland plaid, Emir's robe, and French blouse; fromits plaited sort of front peeped glimpses of a flowered regatta-shirt,while, for the rest, white trowsers of ample duck flowed overmaroon-colored slippers, and a jaunty smoking-cap of regal purplecrowned him off at top; king of traveled good-fellows, evidently.Grotesque as all was, nothing looked stiff or unused; all showed signsof easy service, the least wonted thing setting like a wonted glove.That genial hand, which had just been laid on the ungenial shoulder, wasnow carelessly thrust down before him, sailor-fashion, into a sort ofIndian belt, confining the redundant vesture; the other held, by itslong bright cherry-stem, a Nuremburgh pipe in blast, its great porcelainbowl painted in miniature with linked crests and arms of interlinkednations--a florid show. As by subtle saturations of its mellowingessence the tobacco had ripened the bowl, so it looked as if somethingsimilar of the interior spirit came rosily out on the cheek. But rosypipe-bowl, or rosy countenance, all was lost on that unrosy man, thebachelor, who, waiting a moment till the commotion, caused by the boat'srenewed progress, had a little abated, thus continued:"Hark ye," jeeringly eying the cap and belt, "did you ever see SignorMarzetti in the African pantomime?""No;--good performer?""Excellent; plays the intelligent ape till he seems it. With suchnaturalness can a being endowed with an immortal spirit enter into thatof a monkey. But where's your tail? In the pantomime, Marzetti, nohypocrite in his monkery, prides himself on that."The stranger, now at rest, sideways and genially, on one hip, his rightleg cavalierly crossed before the other, the toe of his vertical slipperpointed easily down on the deck, whiffed out a long, leisurely sort ofindifferent and charitable puff, betokening him more or less of themature man of the world, a character which, like its opposite, thesincere Christian's, is not always swift to take offense; and then,drawing near, still smoking, again laid his hand, this time with mildimpressiveness, on the ursine shoulder, and not unamiably said: "That inyour address there is a sufficiency of the fortiter in re few unbiasedobservers will question; but that this is duly attempered with thesuaviter in modo may admit, I think, of an honest doubt. My dearfellow," beaming his eyes full upon him, "what injury have I done you,that you should receive my greeting with a curtailed civility?""Off hands;" once more shaking the friendly member from him. "Who in thename of the great chimpanzee, in whose likeness, you, Marzetti, and theother chatterers are made, who in thunder are you?""A cosmopolitan, a catholic man; who, being such, ties himself to nonarrow tailor or teacher, but federates, in heart as in costume,something of the various gallantries of men under various suns. Oh, oneroams not over the gallant globe in vain. Bred by it, is a fraternal andfusing feeling. No man is a stranger. You accost anybody. Warm andconfiding, you wait not for measured advances. And though, indeed,mine, in this instance, have met with no very hilarious encouragement,yet the principle of a true citizen of the world is still to return goodfor ill.--My dear fellow, tell me how I can serve you.""By dispatching yourself, Mr. Popinjay-of-the-world, into the heart ofthe Lunar Mountains. You are another of them. Out of my sight!""Is the sight of humanity so very disagreeable to you then? Ah, I may befoolish, but for my part, in all its aspects, I love it. Served up laPole, or la Moor, la Ladrone, or la Yankee, that good dish, man,still delights me; or rather is man a wine I never weary of comparingand sipping; wherefore am I a pledged cosmopolitan, a sort ofLondon-Dock-Vault connoisseur, going about from Teheran to Natchitoches,a taster of races; in all his vintages, smacking my lips over this racycreature, man, continually. But as there are teetotal palates which havea distaste even for Amontillado, so I suppose there may be teetotalsouls which relish not even the very best brands of humanity. Excuse me,but it just occurs to me that you, my dear fellow, possibly lead asolitary life.""Solitary?" starting as at a touch of divination."Yes: in a solitary life one insensibly contracts oddities,--talking toone's self now.""Been eaves-dropping, eh?""Why, a soliloquist in a crowd can hardly but be overheard, and withoutmuch reproach to the hearer.""You are an eaves-dropper.""Well. Be it so.""Confess yourself an eaves-dropper?""I confess that when you were muttering here I, passing by, caught aword or two, and, by like chance, something previous of your chat withthe Intelligence-office man;--a rather sensible fellow, by the way; muchof my style of thinking; would, for his own sake, he were of my style ofdress. Grief to good minds, to see a man of superior sense forced tohide his light under the bushel of an inferior coat.--Well, from whatlittle I heard, I said to myself, Here now is one with the unprofitablephilosophy of disesteem for man. Which disease, in the main, I haveobserved--excuse me--to spring from a certain lowness, if not sourness,of spirits inseparable from sequestration. Trust me, one had better mixin, and do like others. Sad business, this holding out against having agood time. Life is a pic-nic en costume; one must take a part, assumea character, stand ready in a sensible way to play the fool. To come inplain clothes, with a long face, as a wiseacre, only makes one adiscomfort to himself, and a blot upon the scene. Like your jug of coldwater among the wine-flasks, it leaves you unelated among the elatedones. No, no. This austerity won't do. Let me tell you too--enconfiance--that while revelry may not always merge into ebriety,soberness, in too deep potations, may become a sort of sottishness.Which sober sottishness, in my way of thinking, is only to be cured bybeginning at the other end of the horn, to tipple a little.""Pray, what society of vintners and old topers are you hired to lecturefor?""I fear I did not give my meaning clearly. A little story may help. Thestory of the worthy old woman of Goshen, a very moral old woman, whowouldn't let her shoats eat fattening apples in fall, for fear the fruitmight ferment upon their brains, and so make them swinish. Now, during agreen Christmas, inauspicious to the old, this worthy old woman fellinto a moping decline, took to her bed, no appetite, and refused to seeher best friends. In much concern her good man sent for the doctor, who,after seeing the patient and putting a question or two, beckoned thehusband out, and said: 'Deacon, do you want her cured?' 'Indeed I do.''Go directly, then, and buy a jug of Santa Cruz.' 'Santa Cruz? my wifedrink Santa Cruz?' 'Either that or die.' 'But how much?' 'As much as shecan get down.' 'But she'll get drunk!' 'That's the cure.' Wise men, likedoctors, must be obeyed. Much against the grain, the sober deacon gotthe unsober medicine, and, equally against her conscience, the poor oldwoman took it; but, by so doing, ere long recovered health and spirits,famous appetite, and glad again to see her friends; and having by thisexperience broken the ice of arid abstinence, never afterwards keptherself a cup too low."This story had the effect of surprising the bachelor into interest,though hardly into approval."If I take your parable right," said he, sinking no little of his formerchurlishness, "the meaning is, that one cannot enjoy life with gustounless he renounce the too-sober view of life. But since the too-soberview is, doubtless, nearer true than the too-drunken; I, who rate truth,though cold water, above untruth, though Tokay, will stick to my earthenjug.""I see," slowly spirting upward a spiral staircase of lazy smoke, "Isee; you go in for the lofty.""How?""Oh, nothing! but if I wasn't afraid of prosing, I might tell anotherstory about an old boot in a pieman's loft, contracting there betweensun and oven an unseemly, dry-seasoned curl and warp. You've seen suchleathery old garretteers, haven't you? Very high, sober, solitary,philosophic, grand, old boots, indeed; but I, for my part, would ratherbe the pieman's trodden slipper on the ground. Talking of piemen,humble-pie before proud-cake for me. This notion of being lone and loftyis a sad mistake. Men I hold in this respect to be like roosters; theone that betakes himself to a lone and lofty perch is the hen-peckedone, or the one that has the pip.""You are abusive!" cried the bachelor, evidently touched."Who is abused? You, or the race? You won't stand by and see the humanrace abused? Oh, then, you have some respect for the human race.""I have some respect for myself" with a lip not so firm as before."And what race may you belong to? now don't you see, my dear fellow,in what inconsistencies one involves himself by affecting disesteem formen. To a charm, my little stratagem succeeded. Come, come, think betterof it, and, as a first step to a new mind, give up solitude. I fear, bythe way, you have at some time been reading Zimmermann, that old Mr.Megrims of a Zimmermann, whose book on Solitude is as vain as Hume's onSuicide, as Bacon's on Knowledge; and, like these, will betray him whoseeks to steer soul and body by it, like a false religion. All they, bethey what boasted ones you please, who, to the yearning of our kindafter a founded rule of content, offer aught not in the spirit offellowly gladness based on due confidence in what is above, away withthem for poor dupes, or still poorer impostors."His manner here was so earnest that scarcely any auditor, perhaps, butwould have been more or less impressed by it, while, possibly, nervousopponents might have a little quailed under it. Thinking within himselfa moment, the bachelor replied: "Had you experience, you would know thatyour tippling theory, take it in what sense you will, is poor as anyother. And Rabelais's pro-wine Koran no more trustworthy than Mahomet'santi-wine one.""Enough," for a finality knocking the ashes from his pipe, "we talk andkeep talking, and still stand where we did. What do you say for a walk?My arm, and let's a turn. They are to have dancing on the hurricane-deckto-night. I shall fling them off a Scotch jig, while, to save thepieces, you hold my loose change; and following that, I propose thatyou, my dear fellow, stack your gun, and throw your bearskins in asailor's hornpipe--I holding your watch. What do you say?"At this proposition the other was himself again, all raccoon."Look you," thumping down his rifle, "are you Jeremy Diddler No. 3?""Jeremy Diddler? I have heard of Jeremy the prophet, and Jeremy Taylorthe divine, but your other Jeremy is a gentleman I am unacquaintedwith.""You are his confidential clerk, ain't you?""Whose, pray? Not that I think myself unworthy of being confided in,but I don't understand.""You are another of them. Somehow I meet with the most extraordinarymetaphysical scamps to-day. Sort of visitation of them. And yet thatherb-doctor Diddler somehow takes off the raw edge of the Diddlers thatcome after him.""Herb-doctor? who is he?""Like you--another of them.""Who?" Then drawing near, as if for a good long explanatory chat, hisleft hand spread, and his pipe-stem coming crosswise down upon it like aferule, "You think amiss of me. Now to undeceive you, I will just enterinto a little argument and----""No you don't. No more little arguments for me. Had too many littlearguments to-day.""But put a case. Can you deny--I dare you to deny--that the man leadinga solitary life is peculiarly exposed to the sorriest misconceptionstouching strangers?""Yes, I do deny it," again, in his impulsiveness, snapping at thecontroversial bait, "and I will confute you there in a trice. Look,you----""Now, now, now, my dear fellow," thrusting out both vertical palms fordouble shields, "you crowd me too hard. You don't give one a chance. Saywhat you will, to shun a social proposition like mine, to shun societyin any way, evinces a churlish nature--cold, loveless; as, to embraceit, shows one warm and friendly, in fact, sunshiny."Here the other, all agog again, in his perverse way, launched forth intothe unkindest references to deaf old worldlings keeping in the deafeningworld; and gouty gluttons limping to their gouty gormandizings; andcorseted coquets clasping their corseted cavaliers in the waltz, all fordisinterested society's sake; and thousands, bankrupt throughlavishness, ruining themselves out of pure love of the sweet company ofman--no envies, rivalries, or other unhandsome motive to it."Ah, now," deprecating with his pipe, "irony is so unjust: never couldabide irony: something Satanic about irony. God defend me from Irony,and Satire, his bosom friend.""A right knave's prayer, and a right fool's, too," snapping hisrifle-lock."Now be frank. Own that was a little gratuitous. But, no, no, you didn'tmean; it any way, I can make allowances. Ah, did you but know it, howmuch pleasanter to puff at this philanthropic pipe, than still to keepfumbling at that misanthropic rifle. As for your worldling, glutton,and coquette, though, doubtless, being such, they may have their littlefoibles--as who has not?--yet not one of the three can be reproachedwith that awful sin of shunning society; awful I call it, for not seldomit presupposes a still darker thing than itself--remorse.""Remorse drives man away from man? How came your fellow-creature, Cain,after the first murder, to go and build the first city? And why is itthat the modern Cain dreads nothing so much as solitary confinement?"My dear fellow, you get excited. Say what you will, I for one must havemy fellow-creatures round me. Thick, too--I must have them thick.""The pick-pocket, too, loves to have his fellow-creatures round him.Tut, man! no one goes into the crowd but for his end; and the end of toomany is the same as the pick-pocket's--a purse.""Now, my dear fellow, how can you have the conscience to say that, whenit is as much according to natural law that men are social as sheepgregarious. But grant that, in being social, each man has his end, doyou, upon the strength of that, do you yourself, I say, mix with man,now, immediately, and be your end a more genial philosophy. Come, let'stake a turn."Again he offered his fraternal arm; but the bachelor once more flung itoff, and, raising his rifle in energetic invocation, cried: "Now thehigh-constable catch and confound all knaves in towns and rats ingrain-bins, and if in this boat, which is a human grain-bin for thetime, any sly, smooth, philandering rat be dodging now, pin him, thouhigh rat-catcher, against this rail.""A noble burst! shows you at heart a trump. And when a card's that,little matters it whether it be spade or diamond. You are good winethat, to be still better, only needs a shaking up. Come, let's agreethat we'll to New Orleans, and there embark for London--I staying withmy friends nigh Primrose-hill, and you putting up at the Piazza, CoventGarden--Piazza, Covent Garden; for tell me--since you will not be adisciple to the full--tell me, was not that humor, of Diogenes, whichled him to live, a merry-andrew, in the flower-market, better than thatof the less wise Athenian, which made him a skulking scare-crow inpine-barrens? An injudicious gentleman, Lord Timon.""Your hand!" seizing it."Bless me, how cordial a squeeze. It is agreed we shall be brothers,then?""As much so as a brace of misanthropes can be," with another andterrific squeeze. "I had thought that the moderns had degeneratedbeneath the capacity of misanthropy. Rejoiced, though but in oneinstance, and that disguised, to be undeceived."The other stared in blank amaze."Won't do. You are Diogenes, Diogenes in disguise. I say--Diogenesmasquerading as a cosmopolitan."With ruefully altered mien, the stranger still stood mute awhile. Atlength, in a pained tone, spoke: "How hard the lot of that pleader who,in his zeal conceding too much, is taken to belong to a side which hebut labors, however ineffectually, to convert!" Then with another changeof air: "To you, an Ishmael, disguising in sportiveness my intent, Icame ambassador from the human race, charged with the assurance that foryour mislike they bore no answering grudge, but sought to conciliateaccord between you and them. Yet you take me not for the honest envoy,but I know not what sort of unheard-of spy. Sir," he less lowly added,"this mistaking of your man should teach you how you may mistake allmen. For God's sake," laying both hands upon him, "get you confidence.See how distrust has duped you. I, Diogenes? I he who, going a stepbeyond misanthropy, was less a man-hater than a man-hooter? Better wereI stark and stiff!"With which the philanthropist moved away less lightsome than he hadcome, leaving the discomfited misanthrope to the solitude he held sosapient.