October influences

Fair and bright dawned the first of October! The fierce chilling blast has sung a fit requiem to the infernal September; with its cloudy wings it has taken its eternal flight — may such another never revisit poor people so helplessly exposed to its dreary influences!  December 1851 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army

This has been a true October day — delightful and magnificent October! — and with but little of the high wind, which here so generally prevails.  --January 1852 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army

Photo Credit: Quincy Koetz - The Pursuit of Life

Although the month was November, the day was in character an October one—cool, clear, bright, intoxicatingly invigorating; one of those days peculiar to the ripest hours of our American Autumn. This weather must have had much to do with the spontaneous enthusiasm which seized the troops—  --Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War

Melville's note on typical October weather is to this line in his Civil War poem, "Chattanooga":

A kindling impulse seized the host

Inspired by heaven's elastic air;

In the January 1852 installment of Scenes Beyond the Western Border, the "true October" weather brings out the "philosopher" in the Captain, as he explains while talking and riding with his Imaginary Friend:

I. F.—" Very interesting, this dry grass and frost! Has the idea of home banished me from your thoughts?"

—"Ah, no! I am a bit of a philosopher; and take this October marching very kindly— particularly, after thawing of a morning and riding ahead, I kill a grouse occasionally with my pistol."

G. P. R. James, again

No need to claim Herman Melville wrote this 1850 review of G. P. R. James's novel The Old Oak Chest. For one thing, the cheap shot at the end (James's latest should have been called "Much Ado about Nothing") sounds forced and a bit meaner than Melville liked to be in print. That "Mr. Shakespeare" there in the last paragraph reminds me more of Evert Duyckinck's usage of "one John Milton"--when in the course of reviewing Moby-Dick, Duyckinck was being mean to Melville. Melville himself chose to call the Bard "Master William Shakespeare" in his review of Hawthorne two months later for the same Literary World.  On the other hand, the very idea of "christening books" seems Melvillean enough, not to mention the clever critique of sentences "dipped in a starch cup, and dried stiff." Whoever the writer, my point here is we're in Melville's literary and social back yard. If he didn't write the 1850 review he knows and parties with the person who did.

In those days the universal joke about G. P. R. James concerned his ever-present "two horsemen." The anonymous reviewer--let's call him Evert--alludes to the old joke, then further acknowledges as distinctive trademarks James's "verbiage," his plodding, monotonous prose, and ho ho! the habit his characters have of repeating "the beginning of each speech." 

"We find the same verbiage, the same measured sentences, seeming to have been dipped in a starch cup, and dried stiff. The same repetition of the beginning of each speech, as if the speaker, having made a baulk at the start, trotted back for a fresh tap of the drum."  --The Literary World No. 179 - July 6, 1850

The metaphor if I have it right is of the author as drum major, and fictional personae as soldiers that muster when called by the military "tap of the drum." As shown in a previous Dragooned post, one of the dialogues on books and authors in "Scenes Beyond the Western Border" features an extended criticism of G. P. R. James. In that January 1852 dialogue, the Captain's Imaginary Friend (I. F. for short) makes the same point (though without the drum-tap) as the anonymous Literary World reviewer did in 1850 about the tendency of James's characters to repeat themselves at the start of their speeches.

I. F. — James has an extraordinary habit of making his spokesmen repeat the first sentence of their speeches, thus — "I don't know, sir; I don't know, sir," — "That's a pity — that's a pity !" Since I have noticed it, it always makes me nervous!

--Scenes Beyond the Western Border, January 1852; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army

In "Israel Potter" (1854) Melville would make James's quirk of repeating speech into a characteristic mannerism of King George III:

Waiting a moment, till the man was out of hearing, the king again turned upon Israel.

"Were you at Bunker Hill?—that bloody Bunker Hill —eh, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fought like a devil—like a very devil, I suppose?”

"Yes, sir."

"Helped flog—helped flog my soldiers?”

"Yes, sir; but very sorry to do it."

"Eh?—eh?—how's that?"

"I took it to be my sad duty, sir."

"Very much mistaken—very much mistaken, indeed. Why do ye sir me?—eh? I'm your king—your king."

"Sir," said Israel firmly, but with deep respect, "I have no king."

--Melville's "Israel Potter" in Putnam's Monthly Magazine - August 1854

Don't get too deep

via North Dakota Geological Survey

Inviting discussion of Geology on the Isle of Fossils, King Media warns Babbalanja:

 "Philosopher, probe not too deep."  --Melville's Mardi (1849)

On the same subject, in a similarly plain-speaking role as representative realist, the Captain's imaginary friend "Frank" in "Scenes Beyond the Western Border" would also steer the talk away from useless profundity:

F. "Bah! your modern geognosy is a humbug! or, too deep at least, for a wandering dragoon. --Scenes Beyond the Western Border, August 1852; and
Scenes and Adventures in the Army, p359

In the previous installment, July 1852, the Captain self-consciously began to try out different writing styles for different readers--romantics first, then realists--but stopped himself before getting "too deep" in the experiment:

" Whom then shall I address? — the mock sentimentalist? and begin the day: 'Our slumbers this morning were gently and pleasantly dissolved by the cheerful martins, which sang a sweet reveille with the first blush of Aurora, at our uncurtained couches.' Or the statist? 'Not a sign of buffalo to-day; it were melancholy and easy to calculate how soon the Indians, deprived of this natural resource, and ignorant of agriculture' — but I should soon get too deep." 

I[maginary]. F[riend]. — But this soil is devilish shallow.  --Scenes Beyond the Western Border, July 1852; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army, p333

In the 1876 poem Clarel, Melville's easygoing clergyman Derwent tries hard to cheer up Clarel. But the young divinity student can't stop his pained and doubtful line of questioning--which makes Derwent sigh,

"Alas, too deep you dive."   --Clarel 3.21, Mar Saba/In Confidence

It's no good getting ruffled

The English Gentleman Richard Brathwaite by Robert Vaughan.
c. 1600 - 1660. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

In Pierre; or, The Ambiguities (1852) Melville repeatedly addresses the virtue of staying calm and not getting "ruffled," especially in social conversation. Before counting them up, I did not realize the ideal of keeping oneself "unruffled" was such a favorite with Melville in Pierre: ten instances total of "ruffle" (1x) and variants "ruffled" (3x); "unruffled" (3x); "unruffledness" (2x); and the truly delightful "unruffleable" (1x). That's not counting four references to literal ruffles.

"... after directing the unruffled Dates"  --Melville's Pierre, p21

"... it must be hard for man to be an uncompromising hero and a commander among his race, and yet never ruffle any domestic brow."  --Melville's Pierre, p25

"... of the most wonderful unruffledness of temper."  --Melville's Pierre, p38

Allan Melvill / 1810 portrait by John Rubens Smith via Wikimedia Commons

"...and much liked to paint his friends, and hang their faces on his walls; so that when all alone by himself, he yet had plenty of company, who always wore their best expressions to him, and never once ruffled him, by ever getting cross or ill-natured, little Pierre."  --Melville's Pierre, p100

She was a noble creature, but formed chiefly for the gilded prosperities of life, and hitherto mostly used to its unruffled serenities; bred and expanded, in all developments, under the sole influence of hereditary forms and world-usages. --Melville's Pierre, p120

  "... in some other hour of unruffledness or unstimulatedness...."
--Melville's Pierre, p309

"He has translated the unruffled gentleman from the drawing-room into the general levee of letters...."  --Melville's Pierre, 334-5

Not seldom Pierre's social placidity was ruffled by polite entreaties from the young ladies that he would be pleased to grace their Albums with some nice little song. We say that here his social placidity was ruffled; for the true charm of agreeable parlor society is, that there you lose your own sharp individuality and become delightfully merged in that soft social Pantheism, as it were, that rosy melting of all into one, ever prevailing in those drawing-rooms, which pacifically and deliciously belie their own name; inasmuch as there no one draws the sword of his own individuality, but all such ugly weapons are left—as of old—with your hat and cane in the hall. --Melville's Pierre, p341

"And with his unruffleable hilariousness, Millthorpe quitted the room."
--Melville's Pierre, p435

As a matter of vocabulary the theme of staying unruffled is clearly, for Melville, a preoccupation of 1851-2 when he was writing Pierre. After Pierre Melville was done with ruffles in his prose writings, except with reference to fabric or bodies of water. Two instances occur in Typee, none in Omoo, one instance in Mardi, none in Redburn, none in White-Jacket, one in Moby-Dick, and then none that I can find in Israel Potter; The Piazza Tales; The Confidence-Man; and Billy Budd.

Scenes Beyond the Western Border, August 1852:

F. "Bah! your modern geognosy is a humbug! or, too deep at least, for a wandering dragoon. Now, would you go about determining the age of the formation from your knowledge of the shell? or give it physiological gradation from your profound knowledge of superposition of strata?"

C. "The former, if I only knew it. You will allow me at least, on your own recommendation to note the fact in my journal?"

F. "Of course; but with becoming modesty. It is enough to ruffle one, to have such a long word thrust at him, of a pleasant summer evening, and a thousand miles from a library."

C. "But, good heavens! do not condemn a word for its length. Paleontology is an almost poetical triumph, which throws an attractive grace over the sterility of geognostic investigations and symbols on the human tombs, which throw beams of startling light over the obscurity of fabulous antiquity,—so when we discover the traces or remains of existing, or the extinct life of the old world, their natural tombs—the fossil rocks—are monuments on which Time thus records their relative ages. It is a beautiful chronometry of the earth's surface!"

--Reprinted with significant revisions in Scenes and Adventures in the Army, page 360

Related Dragooned posts:

• fossiliferous
• fossiliferous, again
• modern geognosy, prairie talk borrowed from von Humboldt

fossiliferous, again

Image Credit: Nicola Marshall

Introduced already in an earlier post, but this one I think deserves another look.

Writing on "The Language of Moby-Dick," Maurice S. Lee cites the word fossiliferous with other examples of Melville's "extraordinary language that is simultaneously archaic and fresh":

" 'Fossiliferous' is one of many abstruse terms that Melville lifts from specialized fields." --Maurice S. Lee in A Companion to Herman Melville (Wiley-Blackwell, 2006; paperback 2015) edited by Wyn Kelley.

Moby-Dick (1851):

"... it now remains to magnify him in an archaeological, fossiliferous, and antediluvian point of view."  --Moby-Dick, Chapter 104, The Fossil Whale

 Scenes Beyond the Western Border, August 1852:

"—all by the light of your chronological, fossiliferous, infernal shell!"

"Scenes Beyond the Western Border" (August 1852)

Significant revisions to the August 1852 dialogue on paleontology between "C." and "F." (shown above) in the 1857 book version (shown below) include: 

1.  removing the self-reflexive allusion to the writer's journal
2. adding the oxymoronic jokes of being "decidedly non-committal" and, later on, of having a "profound smattering" of the subject at hand (paleontology).
3. thoroughly re-working "a thousand miles from a library" to read, "amid all the charm of a complete laisser aller in a glorious wilderness, a thousand miles from all the schools of pedantic, groping, and guessing philosophy." 
4. deleting sentence containing the word "chronometry." 
5. revising F. (which in the magazine version stands for "Frank") to "Friend." Similarly, all references to "I. F." for "Imaginary Friend" have been revised throughout Part II of the 1857 book version to read simply, Friend. 

Scenes and Adventures in the Army, page 360

Related post:

• modern geognosy, prairie talk borrowed from von Humboldt

Cooke's unaffected writing style in From Everglade to Cañon with the Second Dragoons

Besides extant family correspondence, army reports and documents (for example, Letters to the Adjutant General) and official journals, good evidence for the usual writing style of Philip St. George Cooke appears in a section of Rodenbough's From Everglade to Canyon titled "Personal Recollections." In one passage Cooke ventures to describe what he considers a dramatic and even "romantic" episode from the Apache War of 1854. In unaffected prose, Cooke describes the 1854 engagement with Jicarilla Apaches and killing of their leader, Lobo Blanco or "White Wolf." Cooke does not say and may not have known that White Wolf's daughter had been kidnapped and killed before the widely reported massacre of the White family.

Lieutenant David Bell, of our regiment—whose early death was a great loss to the whole service—was very conspicuous in extraordinary marches and in action. He was an accomplished horseman and shot. I have seen him, in a run of a quarter of a mile, kill or stop five buffaloes! In partisan war—all he lived to see—he was admirable, and a rare compound of bravery and prudence.

Of these Apaches a chief named White Wolf had been head man in an atrocious tragedy—that of a Mrs. White and family, whose fates thrilled the public sensibilities.

It was Bell's fortune to avenge them, and in an extraordinary manner. The action might be called dramatic, or perhaps romantic, and I hesitate to attempt its description.
He was on a scout with his company (H) from Fort Union, about seventy miles eastward, near “Red River” (Cimarron), but perhaps thirty miles below the great road-crossing. He had less than thirty men, and met nearly the same number of Indians. At that stage of operations a parley was in order.

Bell had assigned his baggage-mules to the charge of five or six men, and held a mounted interview with White Wolf, who stood in front of twenty-two Indians on foot, well armed and in line. Bell was in front of his troopers, who were about twenty paces from the Indians—exactly equal in number and extent of line. Both parties were prepared to use fire-arms.

The parley was almost tediously long, and this duel had arranged itself as described. White Wolf was very bold, and became defiant. At last—the chief sinking on one knee and aiming his gun, and fell throwing his body forward and reining up his horse—they exchanged shots. Both lines, by command, followed the example, the troopers, however, spurring forward through or over their enemies. The warriors mostly threw themselves on the earth, and several vertical wounds were received by horse and rider. The dragoons turned short about, and again charged through or over their enemies, the fire being continued. Turning for a third charge, the surviving Indians were seen escaping to a steep and deep ravine, which, although only one or two hundred paces off, had not previously been discovered. A number thus escaped, the horsemen having to pull up at the brink, but sending a volley after the descending fugitives.

In less than five minutes, in this strange combat, twenty-one of the forty-six actors were killed or wounded. Bell was not hit, but four or five of his men were killed or wounded. He had shot White Wolf several times, and afterwards others did so; but so tenacious of life was he that, to finish him, a man got a great rock and mashed his head. One of the baggage-guard, against positive orders, left the mules, and charging, sabre in hand, split in two the skull of an Apache, and the next instant was himself shot dead.

It was then discovered that there were more Apaches in the vicinity, and, weakened and embarrassed by the wounded, Bell immediately concluded to send for assistance. About two P.M., accordingly, he sent his first sergeant (Lawless), a famous rider and woodsman, with a pencilled report to me at Fort Union. At ten o'clock in the night he was in my quarters—by any road or trail it was seventy miles! The quarters, the stables, and corral were then scattered over a great prairie space—some were a quarter of a mile apart. It was necessary to arouse nearly everybody; the surgeon to prepare with instruments, etc.; the quartermaster, to get ready an ambulance; a dozen troopers to be equipped and mounted on the best invalid horses. At noon that day this reinforcement, surgeon, and ambulance met Bell at the road-crossing of Red River, forty miles from the fort.  --From Everglade to Canyon

The plain style of narrative description in Cooke's "Personal Recollections" contrasts markedly with the romantic and poetical style of Scenes and Adventures in the Army, especially the second part which is based on the 1851-1853 magazine series, Scenes Beyond the Western Border. One easy way to see the difference is by the absence of figurative language. Unless I'm missing something, I don't find a single metaphor in the passage above. It's all literal and to the point.

By contrast, "Scenes Beyond the Western Border" is notable for its romantic sensibility. Metaphors abound, not to mention numerous dialogues with an imaginary prairie friend:

" Amigo mio, my dreams are — not what they were ! — Well, the night passed quietly enough, though I was disturbed by the coming in of women and children; and right early I got over my other horses and men, and — a breakfast.

" I sallied forth then, ripe for adventures. I 'scoured,' as was right, the three miles of open forest — we have to borrow this word from the scullery, while the French say, euphoniously, eclairer — then emerged upon prairies, and soon reached a lofty hill-top.

"O! how beautiful and fresh was all before me! It was a surprise; not a trace of man blurred the expanded view, where free Nature had tried her genial hand. It was the year's prime; sparkling under the early sun, were meadows and murmuring streamlets; glades, where sported herds of deer; grassy slopes swelling to smooth hillocks; old oaks, here expanded in solitary magnificence, — there, disposed like garlands on the gentle hills; and again, gathered in imposing groves. Strangely beautiful in the midst were two hill-cones, rising like a triumphal gate, from forest bases. Far extended hill and dale and plain, until lost in the blue slopes of a mountain range; and about its airy outline clustered the rosy morning clouds..."

--September 1852 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army

"whether of" this or that

July 27th.—We have had the pleasure of marching to-day 22 miles over a baked white clay surface, accompanied under the broiling sun by a breeze which very gently enveloped us, as in a secondary atmosphere—with dust which gave to all a semblance, not strictly defined, whether of millers or hodmen.  --August 1853 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army

Photo Credit: Claudia's Page

...he addressed them in unusual terms, whether of condescension or in terrorem.... --Moby-Dick

 So, through long previous generations, whether of births or thoughts, Fate strikes the present man.  --Pierre

... the lasting bar to real amelioration, whether of individuals or of the world.  --The Confidence-Man