Showing posts with label Gansevoort Melville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gansevoort Melville. Show all posts

Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Lady of the Lake in the Hugh Glass narrative and Gansevoort Melville's New York High School

The writer calling himself "Borderer" in late 1830 and early 1831 was soaked in Sir Walter Scott, as John Myers Myers figured out in his book on the Hugh Glass saga. Myers did not look at the other "Borderer" material in Scenes and Adventures in the Army, namely the interpolated tales of Sha-wa-now and Mah-za-pa-mee.  Like the story of Hugh Glass, both were originally published in the St Louis Beacon.  In 1835, both were again published over the signature of P.S.G.C. in the Military and Naval Magazine of the United States.  There, as in the St Louis Beacon, the story of Sha-wah-now is titled A Tale of the Rocky Mountains. Before republication in the Southern Literary Messenger, the Rocky Mountain tale of Sha-wa-now featured this direct quotation from The Lady of the Lake, Canto I:
The owlets started from their dream,
The eagles answered with their scream,
Round and around the sounds were cast,
Till echo seem'd an answering blast
Myers did recognize the romanticized duel between the Arikara Indian scout and Hugh Glass (as told by "Borderer," and later the narrator of Scenes and Adventures in the Army) as a dramatic recasting of the combat between Roderick Dhu and Fitz-James in Canto V of The Lady of the Lake.

http://mirrorwithamemory.wordpress.com/2012/02/

Four years before the St Louis Beacon printing of the Hugh Glass story by "Borderer," Gansevoort Melville, Herman's older brother, is on record for his association in High School with this same Canto V of Scott's famous poem. Gansevoort was crowned best speaker (See Hershel Parker's biography, V1.36-7) before a packed assembly. For an encore he recited Halleck's Marco Bozzaris. As Parker also recounts in Melville: The Making of the Poet, a popular scene between Roderick Dhu and Fitz-James was subsequently enacted by two older boys--prompted by eleven-year-old Gansevoort. We know about Gansevoort's performance and prize from a December 28, 1826 letter by his naturally proud mother. Below is an excerpt from Maria Gansevoort Melville's letter to her mother Mrs. Peter Gansevoort, as printed in the 1984 article by Henry Murray, "Another Triumph for Maria's Firstborn":
... it was crowded we could with difficulty find a place to stand, after mounting Helen being the shortest of the party on a Desk, we turned to the Forum & saw Master Gansevoort making his Bow, he was the second call'd on to speak, he spoke rather faster than usual being unaccustomed to so large an audience otherwise he spoke well, when he had got through, two young men, tall, & about 20 years of age spoke the humorous piece of Doctor Pangloss & jac Doulass, then succeeded three or four more small boys, when those two tall Gentlemen again appear'd upon the Forum & spoke the Dialogue between Roderick Dhu, & Fitz James.  One thing really had a fine effect, Roderick Dhu Whistles when his clan arise & show themselves on all sides.  The Boys who were seated on a raised platform at the end of the room, at the sound of the Whistle at once arose & the clatter &c. had a fine effect. In the mean while Master Gansevoort was seated on the Forum at the side of Chancellor Kent with the Lady of the Lake in his hand prompting those two tall Gentlemen, one in particular--who could not remember his part, the other spoke well. (Melville Society Extracts No. 58)

‘Have then thy wish!’— He whistled shrill
And he was answered from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start,
The bracken bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
‘To plaided warrior armed for strife.
That whistle garrisoned the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven
A subterranean host had given.
(From The Lady of the Lake, Canto 5, The Combat)

John Myers Myers on Sir Walter Scott in the Hugh Glass narrative

http://www.nesfa.org/press/Books/Myers.html
Impressively quick to spot a literary borrowing, John Myers Myers figured out that the climax of the Hugh Glass tale in Scenes and Adventures in the Army is reworked from The Lady of the Lake.  Presumed author Philip St George Cooke appropriates details from the combat between Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu when imaginatively presenting the fight to the death between Hugh Glass and an Arikara scout. Myers could not bring himself to charge the veracious Cooke with romancing fact, so he reasoned as follows in The Saga of Hugh Glass:
Taken by itself the duel that followed would not be suspect, but sandwiched between two other near-mortal misses, it has the look--as does nothing else in any of the versions--of deliberate high-piling. Not by Cooke himself, for he was a ramrod of uprightness, loathed by many a superior officer for his refusal to bend.  But it would certainly seem that, before the story reached his ears, somebody threw something in for the fun of it, whereas the other changes rung by the sundry accounts appear nothing more than the normal variants of a story which as been sifted through a spread of memories...
...all in all it's hard to keep from wondering whether this combat didn't originate in the brain of Sir Walter Scott, who had described one marvelously like it in The Lady of the Lake:
They tug, they strain! Down, down they go,
The Gael above, Fitz-James below.
But before being thrown by Roderick Dhu, Scotland's disguised king had wielded a rapier, which had repeatedly let out blood belonging to the wild Highlander. So just as Clan Alpine's chief was getting set to polish Fitz-James off with a dirk, Roderick collapsed instead.
As Scott's narrative poem was first published in 1810, it could logically have inspired the ensuing parallel:
And here his [Hugh's] career would probably have closed, but that in truth it seemed that he bore a charmed existence. At this instant the effect of his unerring shot was developed. The Indian's last convulsive exertion, so successful, was accompanied by a shout of victory—but dying on his lips, it had marked his soul's departure. ... Redeemed, unhoped, from death, Glass beheld at his feet his late enemy, not only dead, but already stiffening, with hand instinctively touching the hilt of his knife.
But whether true or a borrowing from a then very popular verse romance, the incident still left Glass short of a haven.  In telling how he reached one, Cooke wrote much to the same effect as his fellow authorities.  (Saga of Hugh Glass 161-3)
Myers was right! Except, no need to qualify the finding: Walter Scott is definitely, not probably the source, as the verbatim use of "Redeemed, unhoped" from The Lady of the Lake Canto V proves:

He faultered thanks to Heaven for life,
Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;

For his authoritative text, Myers seems to be quoting from the 1830 newspaper sketch of "Some Incidents in the Life of Hugh Glass, A Hunter of the Missouri River" in the St Louis Beacon, signed "Borderer" (December 2 and December 9, 1830).  Since I don't have either article copied yet from the Beacon, here below is the whole episode of the duel, transcribed from the September 1842  installment of Scenes and Adventures in the Army in the Southern Literary Messenger:
Glass had thus far again escaped a cruel fate. He had gained the almost impervious concealment of drifted and malted willows, and undergrowth, when the dread ebullition of triumph and death announced to him the evil he had escaped, and his still imminent peril. Like the hunted fox, he doubled, he turned, ran or crawled, successively gaining the various concealments of the dense bottom to increase his distance from the bloody scene. And such was his success, that he had thought himself nearly safe, when at a slight opening he was suddenly faced by a foe. It was an Arickara scout. The discovery was simultaneous, and so close were these wily woodsmen, that but the one had scarce time to use a weapon intended for a much greater distance. The deadly tomahawk of the other was most readily substituted for the steeled arrow. At the instant, it flew through the air, and the rifle was discharged; neither could see or feel the effect produced, but they rushed into each other's grasp, either endeavoring to crush his adversary by the shock of the onset. But not so the result; the grappling fold of their arms was so close, that they seemed as one animal:—for a while, doubtful was the struggle for the mastery;—so great was their exertion, that the grasped fingers met in the flesh! But Glass, not wholly recovered from his wounds, was doomed to sink beneath the superior strength of his adversary, by an irresistible effort, of which he was rolled upon the earth, the Indian above. At this instant the effect of his unerring shot was developed. The Indian's last convulsive exertion, so successful, was accompanied by a shout of victory—but dying on his lips, it had marked his spirit's departure. It was as if his proud soul, sensible of approaching feebleness, had willingly expired in the last desperate effort, and the shout of triumph with which he would have ushered both their souls into the presence of the 'Great Spirit.'
Redeemed, unhoped, from death, Glass beheld at his feet his late enemy, not only dead, but already stiffening, with hand instinctively touching the hilt of his knife.
Southern Literary Messenger, September 1842
The tale of Hugh Glass was reprinted widely from the 1842 Southern Literary Messenger in newspapers and other magazines, for example Seba Smith's The Rover.

Considering the clear debt to Sir Walter Scott, the writer's chosen pseudonym "Borderer" takes on added significance.  This Borderer not only locates himself on the Missouri River, at the western border of the young United States, but also identifies with the border heroes of Scottish history and song.

[Engraving illustrating Scott's poem The Lady of the Lake] - Walter Scott Image Collection

All of which makes me think again of Herman's brother Gansevoort Melville, but that's another post...

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

heaven born

Another of Gansevoort Melville's distinctive terms shows up in one of the early sketches by "Borderer" for the St Louis Beacon. I still need to find and transcribe the original newspaper version. Text below is from the "Rocky Mountain Tale" of Sha-wa-Now as revised and reprinted in the Military and Naval Magazine (September 1835):
The sun in mid-heaven is but a tame spectacle; his effect, though dazzling, is simple; there he is something, alike beyond our ken and thoughts, merely useful. But when he approaches, as if it were, our earth in setting,—is surrounded by the horizon's mist,—it is then that he is the glorious father of a thousand beauties; a hemisphere blushes red as roses; a mountain structure of calm and motionless clouds seems a palace of fancy adorned with every heaven-born hue.
Why is the name of the Philanthropist Howard associated with such heaven born remembrances.  (Gansevoort Revises Augusta)
Distinctive I say because "heaven born" is Gansevoort's idea for replacing Augusta's word "sublime":
Why is the name of the Philanthropist Howard associated with such sublime remembrances.
UPDATE! Text of Sha-wa-now from the St Louis Beacon is now transcribed and available at Dragooned.

Gansevoort Melville's language in Mah-za-pa-mee

2nd Update:
In 1831 Gansevoort took first prize in his class at the Albany Academy for his essay on the French Revolution. He excelled also in Roman Antiquities, Ancient History, and English.  Five years earlier, Gansevoort won first prize at the New York High School where he recited Halleck's "Marco Bozzaris" for an encore. That 1826 school competition is where Gansevoort served as prompter for a performance by some bigger kids of a scene from The Lady of the Lake.

Update:  Another of Gansevoort's preferred words that shows up in Mah-za-pa mee is "disaster" in the sense of defeat in battle.  Revising sister Augusta's school essay on human achievements, Gansevoort replaced Augusta's "defeat" with the word "disaster."  From a friendly squaw, Mah-za-pa mee hears "first news of the "disaster," meaning a Punca victory over Pawnee raiders.
The story, then, may interest those, who, studying man in all climes and situations, may learn from it, that upon him the slightest causes produce the greatest effects, and the same, alike in the forest and his state of greatest improvement; that red or white, wild or tame, alike fallible, he plunges into war from inadequate motives.
(Mah-za-pa-mee uncut)
He has been rewarded by the approval of the great and good of every clime, and is now enjoying in another world relaxation from the toils of this. (Gansevoort Revises Augusta)
The idea and words "of every clime" are Gansevoort's, not those of his sister Augusta who originally wrote:
he saved many a person from crime & misery who have & will bless the name of Howard. Does not every heart warm towards this man so surely formed in the likeness of his maker?
The phrase "in all climes" remains in the 1835 version, although changes there show careful revision, with "situations" for example changed to "circumstances" and "state of greatest improvement" condensed to "city":
The story, then, may interest those who, studying man in all climes and circumstances, may learn from it, that alike in forest or city, slight causes produce upon him great effects; that wild or tame, he plunges into extremes from no adequate motives.
But the 1842 magazine version and 1857 book version both drop much of the original introduction, including "in all climes."  Now the tale is ascribed to a fellow soldier named "D." whom the 1842 magazine version (but not the 1857 book) described as being "of the matter-of-fact order."