riffing on the "very sound" of a Saxon word

Image Credit: Celler Devinssi via Duff's Wines

Italicizing the Saxon word and also exclaiming! it at least once in the riff, thus:

The rest of the day is called afternoon; the very sound of which fine old Saxon word conveys a feeling of the lee bulwarks and a nap; a summer sea—soft breezes creeping over it; dreamy dolphins gliding in the distance. Afternoon! the word implies that it is an after-piece, coming after the grand drama of the day; something to be taken leisurely and lazily. --Herman Melville, White-Jacket (1850)

What with inspections, re-organizations, writing reports, &c., I have worked sixteen hours to-day; and it is the least in the world singular that I should be now writing for my own amusement; for any other's, quite absurd! There must he something dry about it for recommendation. Oh! expressive and honest Saxon monosyllable!—dry!—thy very sound is pleasing— the idea rapturous! Only think, though it be extravagant, at this hour of inevitable repose, of a dry blanket! think too of dry wine! --September 1851 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army

you shall be my Imaginary Friend, and I will talk to you...

Southern Literary Messenger (June 1851)

Oh reader! "gentle" or not,—I care not a whit,—so you are honest—I will tell you a secret. I write not to be read, and I swear never even to transcribe for your benefit unless I change my mind. All I want is a good listener; I want to converse with you; and if you are absolutely dumb, why I will sometimes answer for you.

Hundreds go and come at my word; none are my "equals," so none are my social friends. I have much to do; very much;—if I nod at my post, some one, or some interest suffers,—nevertheless, the race of hermits is extinct, and man requires companionship; there are some moments unoccupied, sometimes even hours, and you shall be my Imaginary Friend, and I will talk to you.  

--June 1851 Scenes Beyond the Western Border; and Scenes and Adventures in the Army [with "Imaginary Friend" revised to "Friend"].

"You see, good reader, I am making a confidant of you, and that too in matters that another tyro-editor more discreet would very likely keep to himself, seeking to pass himself off as a veteran. But I desire to make a friend of you, and without frankness how accomplish it?" 

--Herman Melville, "House of the Tragic Poet," in Robert A. Sandberg's edition of Melville's unfinished "Burgundy Club" book (PhD Dissertation, Northwestern University, 1989).

The Captain's Imaginary Friend gets a name in the August 1852 installment of Scenes Beyond the Western Border. Yes, Frank.

Update 07/14/2018: the text of Melville's "House of the Tragic Poet" is now available in Volume 13 of The Writings of Herman Melville:

• Billy Budd, Sailor and Other Uncompleted Writings ed. Harrison Hayford, Alma A. MacDougall, Robert A. Sandberg, and G. Thomas Tanselle (Northwestern University Press and The Newberry Library, 2017), pages 141-5.

Related posts:

• the importance of being Frank 
• he will do the talking 
• All I want is a good listener

Colonel Philip St George Cooke in 1856-1859, remembered in 1906 by H. H. Wilson

Found on Newspapers.com    "...a splendid officer...About as long as a rail, as slim as a snake, as straight as a bean pole and with a bad nasal twang...."

Here's a rare 1906 recollection with the ring of truth, picturing Philip St George Cooke around the time that Scenes and Adventures in the Army (1857, 1859) was published in Philadelphia. From a Letter to the Editor by H. H. Wilson, published in the Washington, D. C. National Tribune on July 26, 1906:

... I served in Co. C, 2d U. S. Dragoons, under command of Lieut-Col. Philip St. George Cooke in '56 and '57 in Kansas and in '58 and '59 in Utah. Col. Cooke left Camp Floyd, Utah, early in the Spring of '59 on his famous European trip.

I never saw him again, but remember him very well. He was a splendid officer to those under his command. If any of your readers wish to know what kind of a looking man he was, fancy this picture: About as long as a rail, as slim as a snake, as straight as a bean pole and with a bad nasal twang attached to his voice.

I remember while in Utah our little army was paraded out for a general inspection. I think there were 12 companies of mounted troops in line. When Col. Cooke gave the command, "Draw saber," not a single blade was unsheathed. This was not because we were mutinous, but, on account of his nasal twang, because we did not understand the command.

Whereupon the Colonel straightened himself up and gave the command in clear and distinct language with the addition of, "D'ye understand that, ———  ——— you?" We understood it. It brought the answer.

I do not know when Cooke returned from Europe, but I think Albert Sidney Johnston was in command of the Department of Utah until he resigned to enter the Confederate army—H. H. Wilson, Newell, Pennsylvania

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