Chapter 30

by Herman Melville

　　OPENING WITH A POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS AND CONTINUING WITH TALKINSPIRED BY THE SAME."'Praise be unto the press, not Faust's, but Noah's; let us extol andmagnify the press, the true press of Noah, from which breaketh the truemorning. Praise be unto the press, not the black press but the red; letus extol and magnify the press, the red press of Noah, from which comethinspiration. Ye pressmen of the Rhineland and the Rhine, join in withall ye who tread out the glad tidings on isle Madeira or Mitylene.--Whogiveth redness of eyes by making men long to tarry at the fineprint?--Praise be unto the press, the rosy press of Noah, which givethrosiness of hearts, by making men long to tarry at the rosy wine.--Whohath babblings and contentions? Who, without cause, inflicteth wounds?Praise be unto the press, the kindly press of Noah, which knittethfriends, which fuseth foes.--Who may be bribed?--Who may bebound?--Praise be unto the press, the free press of Noah, which will notlie for tyrants, but make tyrants speak the truth.--Then praise be untothe press, the frank old press of Noah; then let us extol and magnifythe press, the brave old press of Noah; then let us with roses garlandand enwreath the press, the grand old press of Noah, from which flowstreams of knowledge which give man a bliss no more unreal than hispain.'""You deceived me," smiled the cosmopolitan, as both now resumed theirseats; "you roguishly took advantage of my simplicity; you archly playedupon my enthusiasm. But never mind; the offense, if any, was socharming, I almost wish you would offend again. As for certain poeticleft-handers in your panegyric, those I cheerfully concede to theindefinite privileges of the poet. Upon the whole, it was quite in thelyric style--a style I always admire on account of that spirit ofSibyllic confidence and assurance which is, perhaps, its primeingredient. But come," glancing at his companion's glass, "for a lyrist,you let the bottle stay with you too long.""The lyre and the vine forever!" cried the other in his rapture, or whatseemed such, heedless of the hint, "the vine, the vine! is it not themost graceful and bounteous of all growths? And, by its being such, isnot something meant--divinely meant? As I live, a vine, a Catawba vine,shall be planted on my grave!""A genial thought; but your glass there.""Oh, oh," taking a moderate sip, "but you, why don't you drink?""You have forgotten, my dear Charlie, what I told you of my previousconvivialities to-day.""Oh," cried the other, now in manner quite abandoned to the lyric mood,not without contrast to the easy sociability of his companion. "Oh, onecan't drink too much of good old wine--the genuine, mellow old port.Pooh, pooh! drink away.""Then keep me company.""Of course," with a flourish, taking another sip--"suppose we havecigars. Never mind your pipe there; a pipe is best when alone. I say,waiter, bring some cigars--your best."They were brought in a pretty little bit of western pottery,representing some kind of Indian utensil, mummy-colored, set down in amass of tobacco leaves, whose long, green fans, fancifully grouped,formed with peeps of red the sides of the receptacle.Accompanying it were two accessories, also bits of pottery, but smaller,both globes; one in guise of an apple flushed with red and gold to thelife, and, through a cleft at top, you saw it was hollow. This was forthe ashes. The other, gray, with wrinkled surface, in the likeness of awasp's nest, was the match-box. "There," said the stranger, pushing overthe cigar-stand, "help yourself, and I will touch you off," taking amatch. "Nothing like tobacco," he added, when the fumes of the cigarbegan to wreathe, glancing from the smoker to the pottery, "I will havea Virginia tobacco-plant set over my grave beside the Catawba vine.""Improvement upon your first idea, which by itself was good--but youdon't smoke.""Presently, presently--let me fill your glass again. You don't drink.""Thank you; but no more just now. Fill your glass.""Presently, presently; do you drink on. Never mind me. Now that itstrikes me, let me say, that he who, out of superfine gentility orfanatic morality, denies himself tobacco, suffers a more seriousabatement in the cheap pleasures of life than the dandy in his ironboot, or the celibate on his iron cot. While for him who would fainrevel in tobacco, but cannot, it is a thing at which philanthropistsmust weep, to see such an one, again and again, madly returning to thecigar, which, for his incompetent stomach, he cannot enjoy, while still,after each shameful repulse, the sweet dream of the impossible goodgoads him on to his fierce misery once more--poor eunuch!""I agree with you," said the cosmopolitan, still gravely social, "butyou don't smoke.""Presently, presently, do you smoke on. Ad I was saying about----""But why don't you smoke--come. You don't think that tobacco, when inleague with wine, too much enhances the latter's vinous quality--inshort, with certain constitutions tends to impair self-possession, doyou?""To think that, were treason to good fellowship," was the warmdisclaimer. "No, no. But the fact is, there is an unpropitious flavor inmy mouth just now. Ate of a diabolical ragout at dinner, so I shan'tsmoke till I have washed away the lingering memento of it with wine. Butsmoke away, you, and pray, don't forget to drink. By-the-way, while wesit here so companionably, giving loose to any companionable nothing,your uncompanionable friend, Coonskins, is, by pure contrast, broughtto recollection. If he were but here now, he would see how much of realheart-joy he denies himself by not hob-a-nobbing with his kind.""Why," with loitering emphasis, slowly withdrawing his cigar, "I thoughtI had undeceived you there. I thought you had come to a betterunderstanding of my eccentric friend.""Well, I thought so, too; but first impressions will return, you know.In truth, now that I think of it, I am led to conjecture from chancethings which dropped from Coonskins, during the little interview I hadwith him, that he is not a Missourian by birth, but years ago came Westhere, a young misanthrope from the other side of the Alleghanies, lessto make his fortune, than to flee man. Now, since they say triflessometimes effect great results, I shouldn't wonder, if his history wereprobed, it would be found that what first indirectly gave his sad biasto Coonskins was his disgust at reading in boyhood the advice ofPolonius to Laertes--advice which, in the selfishness it inculcates, isalmost on a par with a sort of ballad upon the economies ofmoney-making, to be occasionally seen pasted against the desk of smallretail traders in New England.""I do hope now, my dear fellow," said the cosmopolitan with an air ofbland protest, "that, in my presence at least, you will throw outnothing to the prejudice of the sons of the Puritans.""Hey-day and high times indeed," exclaimed the other, nettled, "sons ofthe Puritans forsooth! And who be Puritans, that I, an Alabamaian, mustdo them reverence? A set of sourly conceited old Malvolios, whomShakespeare laughs his fill at in his comedies.""Pray, what were you about to suggest with regard to Polonius," observedthe cosmopolitan with quiet forbearance, expressive of the patience of asuperior mind at the petulance of an inferior one; "how do youcharacterize his advice to Laertes?""As false, fatal, and calumnious," exclaimed the other, with a degree ofardor befitting one resenting a stigma upon the family escutcheon, "andfor a father to give his son--monstrous. The case you see is this: Theson is going abroad, and for the first. What does the father? InvokeGod's blessing upon him? Put the blessed Bible in his trunk? No. Cramshim with maxims smacking of my Lord Chesterfield, with maxims of France,with maxims of Italy.""No, no, be charitable, not that. Why, does he not among other thingssay:-- 'The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel'? Is that compatible with maxims of Italy?""Yes it is, Frank. Don't you see? Laertes is to take the best of care ofhis friends--his proved friends, on the same principle that awine-corker takes the best of care of his proved bottles. When a bottlegets a sharp knock and don't break, he says, 'Ah, I'll keep thatbottle.' Why? Because he loves it? No, he has particular use for it.""Dear, dear!" appealingly turning in distress, "that--that kind ofcriticism is--is--in fact--it won't do.""Won't truth do, Frank? You are so charitable with everybody, do butconsider the tone of the speech. Now I put it to you, Frank; is thereanything in it hortatory to high, heroic, disinterested effort? Anythinglike 'sell all thou hast and give to the poor?' And, in other points,what desire seems most in the father's mind, that his son should cherishnobleness for himself, or be on his guard against the contrary thing inothers? An irreligious warner, Frank--no devout counselor, is Polonius.I hate him. Nor can I bear to hear your veterans of the world affirm,that he who steers through life by the advice of old Polonius will notsteer among the breakers.""No, no--I hope nobody affirms that," rejoined the cosmopolitan, withtranquil abandonment; sideways reposing his arm at full length upon thetable. "I hope nobody affirms that; because, if Polonius' advice betaken in your sense, then the recommendation of it by men of experiencewould appear to involve more or less of an unhandsome sort of reflectionupon human nature. And yet," with a perplexed air, "your suggestionshave put things in such a strange light to me as in fact a little todisturb my previous notions of Polonius and what he says. To be frank,by your ingenuity you have unsettled me there, to that degree that wereit not for our coincidence of opinion in general, I should almost thinkI was now at length beginning to feel the ill effect of an immaturemind, too much consorting with a mature one, except on the ground offirst principles in common.""Really and truly," cried the other with a kind of tickled modesty andpleased concern, "mine is an understanding too weak to throw outgrapnels and hug another to it. I have indeed heard of some greatscholars in these days, whose boast is less that they have madedisciples than victims. But for me, had I the power to do such things, Ihave not the heart to desire.""I believe you, my dear Charlie. And yet, I repeat, by your commentarieson Polonius you have, I know not how, unsettled me; so that now I don'texactly see how Shakespeare meant the words he puts in Polonius' mouth.""Some say that he meant them to open people's eyes; but I don't thinkso.""Open their eyes?" echoed the cosmopolitan, slowly expanding his; "whatis there in this world for one to open his eyes to? I mean in the sortof invidious sense you cite?""Well, others say he meant to corrupt people's morals; and still others,that he had no express intention at all, but in effect opens their eyesand corrupts their morals in one operation. All of which I reject.""Of course you reject so crude an hypothesis; and yet, to confess, inreading Shakespeare in my closet, struck by some passage, I have laiddown the volume, and said: 'This Shakespeare is a queer man.' At timesseeming irresponsible, he does not always seem reliable. There appearsto be a certain--what shall I call it?--hidden sun, say, about him, atonce enlightening and mystifying. Now, I should be afraid to say what Ihave sometimes thought that hidden sun might be.""Do you think it was the true light?" with clandestine geniality againfilling the other's glass."I would prefer to decline answering a categorical question there.Shakespeare has got to be a kind of deity. Prudent minds, having certainlatent thoughts concerning him, will reserve them in a condition oflasting probation. Still, as touching avowable speculations, we arepermitted a tether. Shakespeare himself is to be adored, not arraigned;but, so we do it with humility, we may a little canvass his characters.There's his Autolycus now, a fellow that always puzzled me. How is oneto take Autolycus? A rogue so happy, so lucky, so triumphant, of soalmost captivatingly vicious a career that a virtuous man reduced to thepoor-house (were such a contingency conceivable), might almost long tochange sides with him. And yet, see the words put into his mouth: 'Oh,'cries Autolycus, as he comes galloping, gay as a buck, upon the stage,'oh,' he laughs, 'oh what a fool is Honesty, and Trust, his swornbrother, a very simple gentleman.' Think of that. Trust, that is,confidence--that is, the thing in this universe the sacredest--israttlingly pronounced just the simplest. And the scenes in which therogue figures seem purposely devised for verification of his principles.Mind, Charlie, I do not say it is so, far from it; but I do say itseems so. Yes, Autolycus would seem a needy varlet acting upon thepersuasion that less is to be got by invoking pockets than pickingthem, more to be made by an expert knave than a bungling beggar; and forthis reason, as he thinks, that the soft heads outnumber the softhearts. The devil's drilled recruit, Autolycus is joyous as if he worethe livery of heaven. When disturbed by the character and career of onethus wicked and thus happy, my sole consolation is in the fact that nosuch creature ever existed, except in the powerful imagination whichevoked him. And yet, a creature, a living creature, he is, though only apoet was his maker. It may be, that in that paper-and-ink investiture ofhis, Autolycus acts more effectively upon mankind than he would in aflesh-and-blood one. Can his influence be salutary? True, in Autolycusthere is humor; but though, according to my principle, humor is ingeneral to be held a saving quality, yet the case of Autolycus is anexception; because it is his humor which, so to speak, oils hismischievousness. The bravadoing mischievousness of Autolycus is slidinto the world on humor, as a pirate schooner, with colors flying, islaunched into the sea on greased ways.""I approve of Autolycus as little as you," said the stranger, who,during his companion's commonplaces, had seemed less attentive to themthan to maturing with in his own mind the original conceptions destinedto eclipse them. "But I cannot believe that Autolycus, mischievous as hemust prove upon the stage, can be near so much so as such a character asPolonius.""I don't know about that," bluntly, and yet not impolitely, returned thecosmopolitan; "to be sure, accepting your view of the old courtier,then if between him and Autolycus you raise the question ofunprepossessingness, I grant you the latter comes off best. For a moistrogue may tickle the midriff, while a dry worldling may but wrinkle thespleen.""But Polonius is not dry," said the other excitedly; "he drules. Onesees the fly-blown old fop drule and look wise. His vile wisdom is madethe viler by his vile rheuminess. The bowing and cringing, time-servingold sinner--is such an one to give manly precepts to youth? Thediscreet, decorous, old dotard-of-state; senile prudence; fatuoussoullessness! The ribanded old dog is paralytic all down one side, andthat the side of nobleness. His soul is gone out. Only nature'sautomatonism keeps him on his legs. As with some old trees, the barksurvives the pith, and will still stand stiffly up, though but to rimround punk, so the body of old Polonius has outlived his soul.""Come, come," said the cosmopolitan with serious air, almost displeased;"though I yield to none in admiration of earnestness, yet, I think, evenearnestness may have limits. To human minds, strong language is alwaysmore or less distressing. Besides, Polonius is an old man--as I rememberhim upon the stage--with snowy locks. Now charity requires that such afigure--think of it how you will--should at least be treated withcivility. Moreover, old age is ripeness, and I once heard say, 'Betterripe than raw.'""But not better rotten than raw!" bringing down his hand with energy onthe table."Why, bless me," in mild surprise contemplating his heated comrade, "howyou fly out against this unfortunate Polonius--a being that never was,nor will be. And yet, viewed in a Christian light," he added pensively,"I don't know that anger against this man of straw is a whit less wisethan anger against a man of flesh, Madness, to be mad with anything.""That may be, or may not be," returned the other, a little testily,perhaps; "but I stick to what I said, that it is better to be raw thanrotten. And what is to be feared on that head, may be known from this:that it is with the best of hearts as with the best of pears--adangerous experiment to linger too long upon the scene. This didPolonius. Thank fortune, Frank, I am young, every tooth sound in myhead, and if good wine can keep me where I am, long shall I remain so.""True," with a smile. "But wine, to do good, must be drunk. You havetalked much and well, Charlie; but drunk little and indifferently--fillup.""Presently, presently," with a hasty and preoccupied air. "If I rememberright, Polonius hints as much as that one should, under nocircumstances, commit the indiscretion of aiding in a pecuniary way anunfortunate friend. He drules out some stale stuff about 'loan losingboth itself and friend,' don't he? But our bottle; is it glued fast?Keep it moving, my dear Frank. Good wine, and upon my soul I begin tofeel it, and through me old Polonius--yes, this wine, I fear, is whatexcites me so against that detestable old dog without a tooth."Upon this, the cosmopolitan, cigar in mouth, slowly raised the bottle,and brought it slowly to the light, looking at it steadfastly, as onemight at a thermometer in August, to see not how low it was, but howhigh. Then whiffing out a puff, set it down, and said: "Well, Charlie,if what wine you have drunk came out of this bottle, in that case Ishould say that if--supposing a case--that if one fellow had an objectin getting another fellow fuddled, and this fellow to be fuddled was ofyour capacity, the operation would be comparatively inexpensive. What doyou think, Charlie?""Why, I think I don't much admire the supposition," said Charlie, with alook of resentment; "it ain't safe, depend upon it, Frank, to ventureupon too jocose suppositions with one's friends.""Why, bless you, Frank, my supposition wasn't personal, but general. Youmustn't be so touchy.""If I am touchy it is the wine. Sometimes, when I freely drink, it has atouchy effect on me, I have observed.""Freely drink? you haven't drunk the perfect measure of one glass, yet.While for me, this must be my fourth or fifth, thanks to yourimportunity; not to speak of all I drank this morning, for oldacquaintance' sake. Drink, drink; you must drink.""Oh, I drink while you are talking," laughed the other; "you have notnoticed it, but I have drunk my share. Have a queer way I learned from asedate old uncle, who used to tip off his glass-unperceived. Do you fillup, and my glass, too. There! Now away with that stump, and have a newcigar. Good fellowship forever!" again in the lyric mood, "Say, Frank,are we not men? I say are we not human? Tell me, were they not human whoengendered us, as before heaven I believe they shall be whom we shallengender? Fill up, up, up, my friend. Let the ruby tide aspire, and allruby aspirations with it! Up, fill up! Be we convivial. Andconviviality, what is it? The word, I mean; what expresses it? A livingtogether. But bats live together, and did you ever hear of convivialbats?""If I ever did," observed the cosmopolitan, "it has quite slipped myrecollection.""But why did you never hear of convivial bats, nor anybody else?Because bats, though they live together, live not together genially.Bats are not genial souls. But men are; and how delightful to think thatthe word which among men signifies the highest pitch of geniality,implies, as indispensable auxiliary, the cheery benediction of thebottle. Yes, Frank, to live together in the finest sense, we must drinktogether. And so, what wonder that he who loves not wine, that soberwretch has a lean heart--a heart like a wrung-out old bluing-bag, andloves not his kind? Out upon him, to the rag-house with him, hanghim--the ungenial soul!""Oh, now, now, can't you be convivial without being censorious? I likeeasy, unexcited conviviality. For the sober man, really, though for mypart I naturally love a cheerful glass, I will not prescribe my natureas the law to other natures. So don't abuse the sober man. Convivialityis one good thing, and sobriety is another good thing. So don't beone-sided.""Well, if I am one-sided, it is the wine. Indeed, indeed, I haveindulged too genially. My excitement upon slight provocation shows it.But yours is a stronger head; drink you. By the way, talking ofgeniality, it is much on the increase in these days, ain't it?""It is, and I hail the fact. Nothing better attests the advance of thehumanitarian spirit. In former and less humanitarian ages--the ages ofamphitheatres and gladiators--geniality was mostly confined to thefireside and table. But in our age--the age of joint-stock companies andfree-and-easies--it is with this precious quality as with precious goldin old Peru, which Pizarro found making up the scullion's sauce-pot asthe Inca's crown. Yes, we golden boys, the moderns, have genialityeverywhere--a bounty broadcast like noonlight.""True, true; my sentiments again. Geniality has invaded each departmentand profession. We have genial senators, genial authors, geniallecturers, genial doctors, genial clergymen, genial surgeons, and thenext thing we shall have genial hangmen.""As to the last-named sort of person," said the cosmopolitan, "I trustthat the advancing spirit of geniality will at last enable us todispense with him. No murderers--no hangmen. And surely, when the wholeworld shall have been genialized, it will be as out of place to talk ofmurderers, as in a Christianized world to talk of sinners.""To pursue the thought," said the other, "every blessing is attendedwith some evil, and----""Stay," said the cosmopolitan, "that may be better let pass for a loosesaying, than for hopeful doctrine.""Well, assuming the saying's truth, it would apply to the futuresupremacy of the genial spirit, since then it will fare with the hangmanas it did with the weaver when the spinning-jenny whizzed into theascendant. Thrown out of employment, what could Jack Ketch turn his handto? Butchering?""That he could turn his hand to it seems probable; but that, under thecircumstances, it would be appropriate, might in some minds admit of aquestion. For one, I am inclined to think--and I trust it will not beheld fastidiousness--that it would hardly be suitable to the dignity ofour nature, that an individual, once employed in attending the lasthours of human unfortunates, should, that office being extinct, transferhimself to the business of attending the last hours of unfortunatecattle. I would suggest that the individual turn valet--a vocation towhich he would, perhaps, appear not wholly inadapted by his familiardexterity about the person. In particular, for giving a finishing tie toa gentleman's cravat, I know few who would, in all likelihood, be, fromprevious occupation, better fitted than the professional person inquestion.""Are you in earnest?" regarding the serene speaker with unaffectedcuriosity; "are you really in earnest?""I trust I am never otherwise," was the mildly earnest reply; "buttalking of the advance of geniality, I am not without hopes that itwill eventually exert its influence even upon so difficult a subject asthe misanthrope.""A genial misanthrope! I thought I had stretched the rope pretty hard intalking of genial hangmen. A genial misanthrope is no more conceivablethan a surly philanthropist.""True," lightly depositing in an unbroken little cylinder the ashes ofhis cigar, "true, the two you name are well opposed.""Why, you talk as if there was such a being as a surlyphilanthropist.""I do. My eccentric friend, whom you call Coonskins, is an example. Doeshe not, as I explained to you, hide under a surly air a philanthropicheart? Now, the genial misanthrope, when, in the process of eras, heshall turn up, will be the converse of this; under an affable air, hewill hide a misanthropical heart. In short, the genial misanthrope willbe a new kind of monster, but still no small improvement upon theoriginal one, since, instead of making faces and throwing stones atpeople, like that poor old crazy man, Timon, he will take steps, fiddlein hand, and set the tickled world a'dancing. In a word, as the progressof Christianization mellows those in manner whom it cannot mend in mind,much the same will it prove with the progress of genialization. And so,thanks to geniality, the misanthrope, reclaimed from his boorishaddress, will take on refinement and softness--to so genial a degree,indeed, that it may possibly fall out that the misanthrope of thecoming century will be almost as popular as, I am sincerely sorry tosay, some philanthropists of the present time would seem not to be, aswitness my eccentric friend named before.""Well," cried the other, a little weary, perhaps, of a speculation soabstract, "well, however it may be with the century to come, certainlyin the century which is, whatever else one may be, he must be genial orhe is nothing. So fill up, fill up, and be genial!""I am trying my best," said the cosmopolitan, still calmlycompanionable. "A moment since, we talked of Pizarro, gold, and Peru; nodoubt, now, you remember that when the Spaniard first entered Atahalpa'streasure-chamber, and saw such profusion of plate stacked up, right andleft, with the wantonness of old barrels in a brewer's yard, the needyfellow felt a twinge of misgiving, of want of confidence, as to thegenuineness of an opulence so profuse. He went about rapping the shiningvases with his knuckles. But it was all gold, pure gold, good gold,sterling gold, which how cheerfully would have been stamped such atGoldsmiths' Hall. And just so those needy minds, which, through theirown insincerity, having no confidence in mankind, doubt lest the liberalgeniality of this age be spurious. They are small Pizarros in theirway--by the very princeliness of men's geniality stunned into distrustof it.""Far be such distrust from you and me, my genial friend," cried theother fervently; "fill up, fill up!""Well, this all along seems a division of labor," smiled thecosmopolitan. "I do about all the drinking, and you do about all--thegenial. But yours is a nature competent to do that to a largepopulation. And now, my friend," with a peculiarly grave air, evidentlyforeshadowing something not unimportant, and very likely of closepersonal interest; "wine, you know, opens the heart, and----""Opens it!" with exultation, "it thaws it right out. Every heart isice-bound till wine melt it, and reveal the tender grass and sweetherbage budding below, with every dear secret, hidden before like adropped jewel in a snow-bank, lying there unsuspected through wintertill spring.""And just in that way, my dear Charlie, is one of my little secrets nowto be shown forth.""Ah!" eagerly moving round his chair, "what is it?""Be not so impetuous, my dear Charlie. Let me explain. You see,naturally, I am a man not overgifted with assurance; in general, I am,if anything, diffidently reserved; so, if I shall presently seemotherwise, the reason is, that you, by the geniality you have evinced inall your talk, and especially the noble way in which, while affirmingyour good opinion of men, you intimated that you never could prove falseto any man, but most by your indignation at a particularly illiberalpassage in Polonius' advice--in short, in short," with extremeembarrassment, "how shall I express what I mean, unless I add that byyour whole character you impel me to throw myself upon your nobleness;in one word, put confidence in you, a generous confidence?""I see, I see," with heightened interest, "something of moment you wishto confide. Now, what is it, Frank? Love affair?""No, not that.""What, then, my dear Frank? Speak--depend upon me to the last. Outwith it.""Out it shall come, then," said the cosmopolitan. "I am in want, urgentwant, of money."