Riffs
Philip St. George Cooke
Radical Freelance, Esq.
William Gibson, USN
Augustus Ely Silliman
Texts by Anonymous
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"Let me, then, be the
unreturning wanderer." ―Mardi (1849)
What better word than wanderer to describe Herman
Melville?
The appellation fits him early and late. Melville's
early fame was gained by writing about his wanderings in the South
Pacific. Omoo (the title of Melville's second book) means
"Rover." In Mardi Melville joined wandering and talking in a
romance of Polynesian travel. Geographical explorations by land and
sea are united with philosophical explorations of society, politics, art,
science, and religion. Yillah, emblem of everything unattainable,
remains forever elusive. Only Melville's alter-ego is brave or
foolish enough to seek her still: Taji, "the unreturning wanderer."
After Mardi, the biggest of Melville's books to
join travel with wide-ranging conversation are his novel The
Confidence-Man (1857) and epic poem Clarel (1876). But
his relatively neglected historical novel Israel Potter (1855) also
betrays something essential and characteristic about Melville's
identification with the figure of the wanderer. Captured by the
British during the revolutionary war, the obscure American hero wanders in
exile like the biblical Israelites. The recurring image of Israel
Potter as "Wanderer" is Melville's invention, a telling addition to the
1824 pamphlet autobiography that served as his major source. Hennig
Cohen has perceptively noted the significance of the word wanderer
for Melville's version of the Israel Potter story:
The word
"wandering" does not occur in Life and Adventures, and the Israel
Potter of Melville's source, though battered by misfortune, is a planner
who has specific goals. In Melville's version, "wanderer" is the
most frequent term that "The Editor" applies to Israel, often with
biblical reference... ["Background and Foreground" in
Melville, Israel Potter, ed. Hennig Cohen (New York: Fordham
University Press, 1991), p. 337.]
Even before the war, before his long captivity, Melville's
Israel Potter is shown "wandering in the wilderness, and wandering upon
the waters." Cohen is right―the word
wanderer occurs ten times in Melville's version, thrice on the last
page of the novel:
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It would be hard to express the satisfaction of the
wanderer at receiving this encouraging
reply.
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So the wanderer
suffered himself to enter...
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...the wanderer was
welcomed...
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...what would befall the wanderer...
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...the fortunes of our wanderer...
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...our wanderer was
finally permitted to quit the cliff.
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...our wanderer found
his best repose that day.
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Advancing slowly, the wanderer
met him by a little heap of ruinous burnt masonry, like a tumbled
chimney...
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"Whose house stood here, friend?" said the
wanderer...
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But the wanderer made
no response...
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Look, WANDERER! Rewriting the autobiography of Israel
Potter, Melville made him like himself, born in the Berkshires. All
the above instances of hero-as-wanderer are likewise
products of rewriting―Melville uses his
editorial license to remake his protagonist in his own Odyssean self-image.

So what? So believe me when I tell you (in utter
defiance of a thunderously silent biographical record devoid of any
external documentary evidence linking the great author and dutiful
dragoon) that
Melville ghostwrote the magazine series "Scenes Beyond the Western Border" for
Philip St. George Cooke. These sketches of
travel and adventure in the far west ran intermittently in the Southern
Literary Messenger from June 1851 through August 1853 and eventually
became Part II of Cooke's Scenes and Adventures in the Army
(Philadelphia: Lindsay & Blakiston, 1857). "Scenes Beyond the
Western Border" is not strictly a chronicle of military exploits and is
not the eyewitness record that it purports to be. Rather,
like Melville's Israel Potter, the narrative has been skillfully
rewritten from original accounts by others. And, as in
Melville's Israel Potter, the narrator casts himself as a wanderer.
Same writing situation, same result.
SA = Scenes and Adventures in the Army
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The trumpet sounds of reveille called us forth this
morning, as usual, under arms; and we instantly witnessed a scene of
beauty and sublimity, which the wanderer
over the earth sees now and then when least expected. (April 1852;
SA 292)
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I was lying on the grass by a small fire, greatly
fatigued, but with face upturned in dreamy enjoyment of all this beauty,
so strange to the long wanderer on
treeless plains;―a sentient beauty!―of the
heavens and earth,―which seemed to look down upon me as a long-expected
guest! (May 1852; SA 305)
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Fond traitor! constant
friend―blind guide―beautiful Hope! that leadest us
wandering ever...
...I love best this desert wandering,
where we are free of all tyrannies...
...our rude beds have a starry canopy, whose beauteous mysteries fix our
wandering thoughts, until blessed
sleep draw the curtain of oblivion. (July 1852; SA 334)
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Bah! your modern geognosy is a
humbug! or, too deep, at least, for a
wandering dragoon.
(August 1852; SA 359)
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But to retrace one's steps is dull:
dull even to the wilderness wanderer,
to whom the face of Nature is all in all; who seeks, by change and
novelty, to charm away the sense of mere routine, fatigue, and privation.
(September 1852; SA 365-366)
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Well!―I have long been a
wanderer, and―I rather like it.
(August 1853; SA 423)
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And another thing. In the dedicatory preface to
Israel Potter, Melville places himself in the role of a benevolent but
impartial editor. Comparing his job of rewriting the original
narrative to a project of restoration, Melville offers the polished-up
story of Israel Potter as "something in the light of a dilapidated old
tombstone retouched."
Retouched
is Melville's
word for what he did to the 1824 pamphlet autobiography, The Life and
Remarkable Adventures of Israel Potter.
In the July 1852 installment of "Scenes
Beyond the Western Border," the ghostwriter describes his project in
eerily similar terms. The context is the scene of writing, as the
narrator (ostensibly "A Captain of U. S. Dragoons")
self-consciously tries and discards a succession of styles and tones
before admitting near defeat:
Few will follow me pleasantly
or patiently through these solitudes, though sometimes "pleasant
places." I care not at all,―but that I
feel I may fail to awaken the sympathy of any, while, like an
artist
retouching with kindled affection
his painted thought, I linger to answer the appeal of Wasted Beauty
to so rare appreciation. (SA 333)
Retouching is the
Captain's word for what he is doing to eyewitness accounts of army
expeditions to the west in 1843 and 1845.
Now do you believe me?
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