Elizabeth Renker also has critically examined Melville's preoccupation with the "scene of writing." In Strike through the Mask and her essay on "Unreadability in The Confidence-Man," Renker explores Melville's frequent references to the problems and physical processes of composition as they relate to his characteristic philosophical concern with the pursuit of ideal Truth, always in tension with material necessities and limitations.
Turns out Dryden and Renker on Melville go a long way towards explaining the essential purpose and overarching theme (IDEAL vs REAL) of the dialogues in 'Scenes Beyond the Western Border" between the narrator and his imaginary friend, first named "Frank" in the August 1852 installment.
Previous posts gave examples of the ongoing preoccupation with writing problems, but now I'm wondering, is there any installment in the whole series that does not feature at least one "scene of writing"? I would guess there must be one at least in every episode. Am I right?
Let's look and see, checking for at least one "scene of writing":
1. June 1851, big check. Spectacularly, this opening installment is all about the scene of writing. The narrator explicitly wishes to befriend one ideal reader. Indeed, the first incarnation of the "Imaginary Friend" is this ideal reader, personified as the narrator's traveling companion "on the prairie." Later on in the series, the friendly reader becomes "friend critic" who, when criticizing the narrative in progress, sounds more and more like Herman Melville's critical friend Evert Duyckinck. Scenes of writing here include very material references to the physical processes of making books, and the advantage of publishing editions with illustrations:
The idea of publishing a book is terrible; no military reputation could stand it; we, who of all things seek distinction, should be most careful how we mingle with the vulgar herd of--book makers! But if some kind friend should ever introduce thus my unamended scribblings to the world, I warn him not to trust them only to letter press; let one art help out another; not one in a thousand can venture in the guise of "cheap literature" of the day; unless indeed, it be a newspaper extra (subscribed for in advance). There is virtue in fair wide margins, and pictorial embellishment.2. September 1851 Plagiarism, Dickens, Irving and inkstands, books, newspapers, magazines, political pamphlet, etc. etc. Another big check!
3. December 1851 Monster check. Narrator invokes and begins to commune with "IDEAL" realm; then when interrupted by his complaining friend, the narrator reluctantly yields to the critic's demand for realism:
"But the Reality I think is too darkly, coldly real, the earth very earthy; but, to please you, mark—I now attempt a lower level. "4. January 1852
First line: "If I can write with gloves, here goes!" In a tent after supper, the friend "stirs a toddy, reading with difficulty a crabbed manuscript." In other words, reading the narrative in progress. Well, that was easy. Check.
5. April 1852 Friend complains of the narrator's "lamer flight" of poetic fancy that "nearly spoiled" his plain and simple description. Picture perfect illustration of idealism in tension with materialism, couched in a problem of narrative method: "I supposed frost and starved horses...would have tempered you to the philosophy of a very materialist." Another scene has the narrator challenged by his friend to romanticize a prairie wedding: "I'll wager my meerschaum to those Sioux moccasins, that you make a goose-quill flight of it yet." The narrator accepts: "hand me the ink-horn." Beautiful! Oh, and check.
6. May 1852 Dreary realities of march "enough to evaporate an ocean of romance" according to the imaginary friend, who criticizes the narrator for sleeping on the job: "rapt, past all observation." Check.
7. June 1852
Checkeroo.
I. F. "... I see you have been making copious notes?"This June 1852 number features a surprising scene of writing in which the narrator confesses to writing poetry in secret. He admits his imaginary friend almost caught him at it, and now at the close of this installment the narrator shares his first three stanzas, quatrains, with the reader:
C. "Yes: do you apprehend that any effort of enthusiasm can add embellishment to the subject?"
My old friend has been patient to-night; but I trembled lest he should discover the verses, at which his coming surprised me! And with all his prosaic affectation, he had nearly forestalled them by his tribute to the close of this day, which indeed might, all together, have inspired a buffalo. And if so afraid of his ridicule, how shall I venture to record them? Well, three verses may be overlooked, as it is a first offence.
The sun set in clouds ;—but this glorious day
Parts not in gloom; the thick veil is riven—
And river and sky in lovely array,
Are radiant now with the light of heaven.
8. July 1852Like an aurora, or the flashing trace
Of an angel's flight, to the utmost north
The glory shines: unwilling to deface
The Beautiful, Night hovers o'er the earth.Gently the chamelion colors fade,—
Slowly ascending to the zenith's height:—
'Till lingering darkness buries all in shade,
And light and beauty bid the world good night.
"How do you succeed with your diary now?" Astronomical incandescent check. This is also the dialogue giving the narrator's view of his best audience:
I address not then, the shallow or hurried worldling; but the friendly one, who in the calm intervals from worldly cares, grants me the aid of a quiet and thoughtful,—and if it may be,—a poetic mood!9. August 1852
"As for myself, with my pipe and pen, and my plum bush—my occupation appears."Narrator greeted by his realist friend, now for the first time and hereafter named "Frank," as "most industrious of scribblers" and teased, yet again, as a romantic dreamer. Huge check.
10. September 1852 Rant on popular appetite for foreign writers and subjects, along the way lamenting the lack of international copyright. Huh?
... as a titled and private [hirsute in 1857 correction] foreigner is the exclusive pet of us republicans,—so America is a subject that can in no way excite, interest or tickle us, but through foreign malevolence and ignorance, or the delightful praise of cockney condescension. If the book be European, and larded with sonorous titles, treat of antiquities, (venerable in guide books,)—of the sterreotyped romance of ruins, converted by a prurient imagination from dens of robbers to seats of chivalry, and abodes of beauty,—then, all success to it!Check please.
11. March 1853 Even before Cub, a tragedy in three acts we have a scene of writing that depicts the narrator journaling under a tree:
But now, “the morn is up again,”—and we have marched many miles fasting, and have been attracted through a turbid river by the sight of grass, and have stopped for breakfast under some cotton woods,—and in their shade I am scribbling with a pencil—
F.—“Yes, and fine work you are making of it! The day should commence with the morning, and the brighter the better; not with the nightmare of a sleeper, who should have watched."Check and check.
12. May 1853
Even before the Dantean fairy dance and unconventional defense of Byron's audacity, a scene of writing you don't want to miss happens when Frank catches the narrator of making a prose poem of the river and trees:
F.—" Hillo! what are you about? Writing in tune with the merry cotton wood leaves? You will have to frankly confess you have invented a new style."Triple check.
13. August 1853 The series ends like it began, all wrapped up in problems of writing, with poetical ideals and art in tension with and often frustrated by materialist pressures of "the real." Challenged by Frank the narrator insists, "I scribble by no rule" and claims he has been "experimenting."
Check and mate.
Here Frank came in.
"I saw you wandering off, at sundown; have you been attempting a photograph of the calm scene?"
C.—" Ah! no bantering now—there is a dreamy art of more pretension still;—that would paint the heart;—that would fix the wandering thought;—that would delve for discoveries in the deep mine of man's nature!
"But I have been writing, Frank, something for your especial approval; I have been setting forth grim realities,—and most philosophically. I did strike at last, but most naturally and truly, a little vein of—"
F.— "—Poetry, perhaps? by the merest accident in the world."
C.—"Nature is poetry! For what are sunsets often gorgeously beautiful, or delicately lovely, beyond all representation? For what, the endless variety, the exquisite combination of resplendent colours, of tints and hues of beauty in flowers and birds? Not for utility, Frank, but to soften our hearts—to refine and elevate our thoughts. Poetry is Worship!"
F.—"Well, let me hear your specimen of 'grim reality.' If you could only realize the charm of simplicity! For poetry I generally go to Job, David, or Isaiah."
I read to him my day's experiences. He listened impatiently; and at last broke out— "You are incorrigible! Do you call that abstraction, the real?"
C.—"Surely it has a mournfully same, and daily reality!"
F.—" And how easily by a mere turn of expression, you could have given it the interest of a simple narrative!"
C.—" Well, I'm too indolent; for, if commenced, I might imagine myself bound to keep it up; and I scribble by no rule, and with no object but pastime; and, to compare in some future day the old with the new tone of mind."
F.—"And a rather singular acquaintance will the old gentleman make! Pray why then did you trouble yourself with the dry abstract of our daily doings?"
C.—" Thank-ye for solving—in your complimentary way—a question of my own! I will tell you: I am convinced that written descriptions, not only from carelessness or design, but from inherent imperfection, invariably paint very feebly; and from consciousness of this, are dashed with discoloured exaggerations; they deceive more than they enlighten the imaginations of those who are unable to apply the convictions and the tests of some experience; you perceive, then, that I was experimenting?"
August 1853 (final installment of Scenes Beyond the Western Border); and
Scenes and Adventures in the Army
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