Chapter 43

by Herman Melville

　　VERY CHARMING."So you are a philanthropist, sir," added the barber with an illuminatedlook; "that accounts, then, for all. Very odd sort of man thephilanthropist. You are the second one, sir, I have seen. Very odd sortof man, indeed, the philanthropist. Ah, sir," again meditativelystirring in the shaving-cup, "I sadly fear, lest you philanthropistsknow better what goodness is, than what men are." Then, eying him as ifhe were some strange creature behind cage-bars, "So you are aphilanthropist, sir.""I am Philanthropos, and love mankind. And, what is more than you do,barber, I trust them."Here the barber, casually recalled to his business, would havereplenished his shaving-cup, but finding now that on his last visit tothe water-vessel he had not replaced it over the lamp, he did so now;and, while waiting for it to heat again, became almost as sociable as ifthe heating water were meant for whisky-punch; and almost as pleasantlygarrulous as the pleasant barbers in romances."Sir," said he, taking a throne beside his customer (for in a row therewere three thrones on the dais, as for the three kings of Cologne, thosepatron saints of the barber), "sir, you say you trust men. Well, Isuppose I might share some of your trust, were it not for this trade,that I follow, too much letting me in behind the scenes.""I think I understand," with a saddened look; "and much the same thing Ihave heard from persons in pursuits different from yours--from thelawyer, from the congressman, from the editor, not to mention others,each, with a strange kind of melancholy vanity, claiming for hisvocation the distinction of affording the surest inlets to theconviction that man is no better than he should be. All of whichtestimony, if reliable, would, by mutual corroboration, justify somedisturbance in a good man's mind. But no, no; it is a mistake--all amistake.""True, sir, very true," assented the barber."Glad to hear that," brightening up."Not so fast, sir," said the barber; "I agree with you in thinking thatthe lawyer, and the congressman, and the editor, are in error, but onlyin so far as each claims peculiar facilities for the sort of knowledgein question; because, you see, sir, the truth is, that every trade orpursuit which brings one into contact with the facts, sir, such trade orpursuit is equally an avenue to those facts.""How exactly is that?""Why, sir, in my opinion--and for the last twenty years I have, at oddtimes, turned the matter over some in my mind--he who comes to knowman, will not remain in ignorance of man. I think I am not rash insaying that; am I, sir?""Barber, you talk like an oracle--obscurely, barber, obscurely.""Well, sir," with some self-complacency, "the barber has always beenheld an oracle, but as for the obscurity, that I don't admit.""But pray, now, by your account, what precisely may be this mysteriousknowledge gained in your trade? I grant you, indeed, as before hinted,that your trade, imposing on you the necessity of functionally tweakingthe noses of mankind, is, in that respect, unfortunate, very much so;nevertheless, a well-regulated imagination should be proof even to sucha provocation to improper conceits. But what I want to learn from you,barber, is, how does the mere handling of the outside of men's headslead you to distrust the inside of their hearts?"What, sir, to say nothing more, can one be forever dealing in macassaroil, hair dyes, cosmetics, false moustaches, wigs, and toupees, andstill believe that men are wholly what they look to be? What think you,sir, are a thoughtful barber's reflections, when, behind a carefulcurtain, he shaves the thin, dead stubble off a head, and then dismissesit to the world, radiant in curling auburn? To contrast the shamefacedair behind the curtain, the fearful looking forward to being possiblydiscovered there by a prying acquaintance, with the cheerful assuranceand challenging pride with which the same man steps forth again, a gaydeception, into the street, while some honest, shock-headed fellowhumbly gives him the wall! Ah, sir, they may talk of the courage oftruth, but my trade teaches me that truth sometimes is sheepish. Lies,lies, sir, brave lies are the lions!""You twist the moral, barber; you sadly twist it. Look, now; take itthis way: A modest man thrust out naked into the street, would he not beabashed? Take him in and clothe him; would not his confidence berestored? And in either case, is any reproach involved? Now, what istrue of the whole, holds proportionably true of the part. The bald headis a nakedness which the wig is a coat to. To feel uneasy at thepossibility of the exposure of one's nakedness at top, and to feelcomforted by the consciousness of having it clothed--these feelings,instead of being dishonorable to a bold man, do, in fact, but attest aproper respect for himself and his fellows. And as for the deception,you may as well call the fine roof of a fine chateau a deception, since,like a fine wig, it also is an artificial cover to the head, andequally, in the common eye, decorates the wearer.--I have confuted you,my dear barber; I have confounded you.""Pardon," said the barber, "but I do not see that you have. His coat andhis roof no man pretends to palm off as a part of himself, but the baldman palms off hair, not his, for his own.""Not his, barber? If he have fairly purchased his hair, the law willprotect him in its ownership, even against the claims of the head onwhich it grew. But it cannot be that you believe what you say, barber;you talk merely for the humor. I could not think so of you as to supposethat you would contentedly deal in the impostures you condemn.""Ah, sir, I must live.""And can't you do that without sinning against your conscience, as youbelieve? Take up some other calling.""Wouldn't mend the matter much, sir.""Do you think, then, barber, that, in a certain point, all the tradesand callings of men are much on a par? Fatal, indeed," raising his hand,"inexpressibly dreadful, the trade of the barber, if to such conclusionsit necessarily leads. Barber," eying him not without emotion, "youappear to me not so much a misbeliever, as a man misled. Now, let me setyou on the right track; let me restore you to trust in human nature, andby no other means than the very trade that has brought you to suspectit.""You mean, sir, you would have me try the experiment of taking down thatnotification," again pointing to it with his brush; "but, dear me, whileI sit chatting here, the water boils over."With which words, and such a well-pleased, sly, snug, expression, asthey say some men have when they think their little stratagem hassucceeded, he hurried to the copper vessel, and soon had his cup foamingup with white bubbles, as if it were a mug of new ale.Meantime, the other would have fain gone on with the discourse; but thecunning barber lathered him with so generous a brush, so piled up thefoam on him, that his face looked like the yeasty crest of a billow, andvain to think of talking under it, as for a drowning priest in the seato exhort his fellow-sinners on a raft. Nothing would do, but he mustkeep his mouth shut. Doubtless, the interval was not, in a meditativeway, unimproved; for, upon the traces of the operation being at lastremoved, the cosmopolitan rose, and, for added refreshment, washed hisface and hands; and having generally readjusted himself, began, at last,addressing the barber in a manner different, singularly so, from hisprevious one. Hard to say exactly what the manner was, any more than tohint it was a sort of magical; in a benign way, not wholly unlike themanner, fabled or otherwise, of certain creatures in nature, which havethe power of persuasive fascination--the power of holding anothercreature by the button of the eye, as it were, despite the seriousdisinclination, and, indeed, earnest protest, of the victim. With thismanner the conclusion of the matter was not out of keeping; for, in theend, all argument and expostulation proved vain, the barber beingirresistibly persuaded to agree to try, for the remainder of the presenttrip, the experiment of trusting men, as both phrased it. True, to savehis credit as a free agent, he was loud in averring that it was only forthe novelty of the thing that he so agreed, and he required the other,as before volunteered, to go security to him against any loss that mightensue; but still the fact remained, that he engaged to trust men, athing he had before said he would not do, at least not unreservedly.Still the more to save his credit, he now insisted upon it, as a lastpoint, that the agreement should be put in black and white, especiallythe security part. The other made no demur; pen, ink, and paper wereprovided, and grave as any notary the cosmopolitan sat down, but, eretaking the pen, glanced up at the notification, and said: "First downwith that sign, barber--Timon's sign, there; down with it."This, being in the agreement, was done--though a littlereluctantly--with an eye to the future, the sign being carefully putaway in a drawer."Now, then, for the writing," said the cosmopolitan, squaring himself."Ah," with a sigh, "I shall make a poor lawyer, I fear. Ain't used, yousee, barber, to a business which, ignoring the principle of honor, holdsno nail fast till clinched. Strange, barber," taking up the blank paper,"that such flimsy stuff as this should make such strong hawsers; vilehawsers, too. Barber," starting up, "I won't put it in black and white.It were a reflection upon our joint honor. I will take your word, andyou shall take mine.""But your memory may be none of the best, sir. Well for you, on yourside, to have it in black and white, just for a memorandum like, youknow.""That, indeed! Yes, and it would help your memory, too, wouldn't it,barber? Yours, on your side, being a little weak, too, I dare say. Ah,barber! how ingenious we human beings are; and how kindly we reciprocateeach other's little delicacies, don't we? What better proof, now, thatwe are kind, considerate fellows, with responsive fellow-feelings--eh,barber? But to business. Let me see. What's your name, barber?""William Cream, sir."Pondering a moment, he began to write; and, after some corrections,leaned back, and read aloud the following:"AGREEMENTBetweenFRANK GOODMAN, Philanthropist, and Citizen of the World,andWILLIAM CREAM, Barber of the Mississippi steamer, Fidle."The first hereby agrees to make good to the last any loss that maycome from his trusting mankind, in the way of his vocation, for theresidue of the present trip; PROVIDED that William Cream keep outof sight, for the given term, his notification of NO TRUST, and byno other mode convey any, the least hint or intimation, tending todiscourage men from soliciting trust from him, in the way of hisvocation, for the time above specified; but, on the contrary, hedo, by all proper and reasonable words, gestures, manners, andlooks, evince a perfect confidence in all men, especiallystrangers; otherwise, this agreement to be void."Done, in good faith, this 1st day of April 18--, at a quarter totwelve o'clock, P. M., in the shop of said William Cream, on boardthe said boat, Fidle.""There, barber; will that do?""That will do," said the barber, "only now put down your name."Both signatures being affixed, the question was started by the barber,who should have custody of the instrument; which point, however, hesettled for himself, by proposing that both should go together to thecaptain, and give the document into his hands--the barber hinting thatthis would be a safe proceeding, because the captain was necessarily aparty disinterested, and, what was more, could not, from the nature ofthe present case, make anything by a breach of trust. All of which waslistened to with some surprise and concern."Why, barber," said the cosmopolitan, "this don't show the right spirit;for me, I have confidence in the captain purely because he is a man; buthe shall have nothing to do with our affair; for if you have noconfidence in me, barber, I have in you. There, keep the paperyourself," handing it magnanimously."Very good," said the barber, "and now nothing remains but for me toreceive the cash."Though the mention of that word, or any of its singularly numerousequivalents, in serious neighborhood to a requisition upon one's purse,is attended with a more or less noteworthy effect upon the humancountenance, producing in many an abrupt fall of it--in others, awrithing and screwing up of the features to a point not undistressing tobehold, in some, attended with a blank pallor and fatalconsternation--yet no trace of any of these symptoms was visible uponthe countenance of the cosmopolitan, notwithstanding nothing could bemore sudden and unexpected than the barber's demand."You speak of cash, barber; pray in what connection?""In a nearer one, sir," answered the barber, less blandly, "than Ithought the man with the sweet voice stood, who wanted me to trust himonce for a shave, on the score of being a sort of thirteenth cousin.""Indeed, and what did you say to him?""I said, 'Thank you, sir, but I don't see the connection,'""How could you so unsweetly answer one with a sweet voice?""Because, I recalled what the son of Sirach says in the True Book: 'Anenemy speaketh sweetly with his lips;' and so I did what the son ofSirach advises in such cases: 'I believed not his many words.'""What, barber, do you say that such cynical sort of things are in theTrue Book, by which, of course, you mean the Bible?""Yes, and plenty more to the same effect. Read the Book of Proverbs.""That's strange, now, barber; for I never happen to have met with thosepassages you cite. Before I go to bed this night, I'll inspect the BibleI saw on the cabin-table, to-day. But mind, you mustn't quote the TrueBook that way to people coming in here; it would be impliedly aviolation of the contract. But you don't know how glad I feel that youhave for one while signed off all that sort of thing.""No, sir; not unless you down with the cash.""Cash again! What do you mean?""Why, in this paper here, you engage, sir, to insure me against acertain loss, and----""Certain? Is it so certain you are going to lose?""Why, that way of taking the word may not be amiss, but I didn't meanit so. I meant a certain loss; you understand, a CERTAIN loss; that isto say, a certain loss. Now then, sir, what use your mere writing andsaying you will insure me, unless beforehand you place in my hands amoney-pledge, sufficient to that end?""I see; the material pledge.""Yes, and I will put it low; say fifty dollars.""Now what sort of a beginning is this? You, barber, for a given timeengage to trust man, to put confidence in men, and, for your first step,make a demand implying no confidence in the very man you engage with.But fifty dollars is nothing, and I would let you have it cheerfully,only I unfortunately happen to have but little change with me just now.""But you have money in your trunk, though?""To be sure. But you see--in fact, barber, you must be consistent. No, Iwon't let you have the money now; I won't let you violate the inmostspirit of our contract, that way. So good-night, and I will see youagain.""Stay, sir"--humming and hawing--"you have forgotten something.""Handkerchief?--gloves? No, forgotten nothing. Good-night.""Stay, sir--the--the shaving.""Ah, I did forget that. But now that it strikes me, I shan't pay youat present. Look at your agreement; you must trust. Tut! against lossyou hold the guarantee. Good-night, my dear barber."With which words he sauntered off, leaving the barber in a maze, staringafter.But it holding true in fascination as in natural philosophy, thatnothing can act where it is not, so the barber was not long now in beingrestored to his self-possession and senses; the first evidence of whichperhaps was, that, drawing forth his notification from the drawer, heput it back where it belonged; while, as for the agreement, that he toreup; which he felt the more free to do from the impression that in allhuman probability he would never again see the person who had drawn it.Whether that impression proved well-founded or not, does not appear. Butin after days, telling the night's adventure to his friends, the worthybarber always spoke of his queer customer as the man-charmer--as certainEast Indians are called snake-charmers--and all his friends united inthinking him QUITE AN ORIGINAL.