NECESSARY PREFACE
I have never
had my own copy of Jay Leyda’s THE
MELVILLE LOG though I have dipped into it over the years in libraries and have always held it in mind when reading
history and biographies.
So, finally
I now have my own copy of a book that Leyda writes in the wish “to make this
book and experience rather than a chore for the student.” A book such as: “I have tried to hold to one
main aim: to give each reader the opportunity to be his own biographer of
Herman Melville, by providing him with the largest possible quantity of
materials to build his own approach to this complex figure.”
What Leyda
does is simply collect every published reference to the actual life of Melville
from the moment of the public announcement of his birth to the funeral notice.
Nothing could be simpler, more daring, more demanding of the reader, more
suggestive… wouldn’t anyone want such a book for the life of Joyce, Tolstoy…
Again, as in
the inspiration for this blog, the ABC OF READING by Ezra Pound::::: show do not tell.. do not explain too much---
rather show, reveal and trust the reader, of course this drives critics to
distraction, drives nuts the propagandists of theory, those who seek to browbeat
into belief future acolytes who will turn will do the same to their acolytes… is there no figure more desrving of scorn and
a public spitting upon than a disciple of a disciple of say Derrida or Foucault or __________ (name your
favorite tenured crank)
ARGUMENT
The
fundamental appeal of the Library of America’s series of books on the American
Civil War of which Year Three has just been published is the decision of editors to trust their readers. I am old enough to remember that when the 100th
anniversary of the Civil War was celebrated it was portrayed as the triumph of
the North via the books of Bruce Catton--- though always somewhere was the great Civil War history from
a more or less southern point of view by Shelby Foote--- but Catton was the most publicised historian
and LIFE magazine made sure his triumphalist voice was the only popular voice.
So as this
is being written at the end of May, 2013.
Here is what we find when turning to the months of May and June 1863.
150 years
ago George Richard Browder, a Methodist minister, a slave owning farmer and
secession sympathizer in Logan County, a Kentucky then occupied by the Union
army reported that on May 26:
I went to town and took the oath of
(allegiance to the United States) & as for me, I shall give no one an
opportunity to convict me of violating it.
The dictates of humanity I cannot disregard. I never did & will not
now encourage the rebellion but as a Christian I must be humane even if I have
to feed an enemy when hungry. Most of my
old friends in town seemed very glad to see me & treated me most cordially. For several days past the papers have been rejoicing over the great Federal
victories & the capture of great numbers of prisoners & cannon &
military stores & it is believed that Vicksburg has fallen or must fall
& also the greater part of the rebel army.
If this is true it is a severe blow to the rebellion & they have
probably lost most more at Vicksburg than they gained at Frederickburg. I feel like withdrawing my thoughts from all
public matters & trying more to be a humble Christian & get safely out
of this wicked world”
Note THE MELVILLE LOG is dedicated:
THIS
BOOK WAS BEGUN AS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MY
TEACHER SERGEI EISENSTEIN
The
advantage of reading the Library of America version of the Civil War is in the
reality being shown. A letter from Robert
Gould Shaw, a 25 year old captain in a Massachusetts unit who has been sent to
an island in South Carolina:
About noon we came in sight of
Darien, a beautiful little town. Our artillery
peppered it a little, as we came up, and then our three boats made fast to the
wharves, and we landed the troops, The
town was deserted, with the exception of two white women and two negroes. (Colonel) Montgomery ordered all the
furniture and movable property to be taken on board the boats. This occupied some time; ad after the town
was pretty thoroughly disemboweled, he said to me, I shall burn this town.” He speaks always in a very low tone, and has
quite a sweet smile when addressing you,
I told him, “I did not want the responsibility of it,” and he was only
too happy to take it all on his shoulders; so the pretty little place was burnt
to the ground, and not a shed remains standing; Montgomery firing the last
buildings with his own hand… You must bear in mind, that not a shot had been
fired at us from this place, and that there were evidently very few men left in
it… The reasons he gave me for destroying Darien were, that the Southerners
must be made to feel that this was a real war, and that they were to be swept away
by the hand of God, like the Jews, of old.
In theory it might seem right to some, but when it comes to being made the
instrument of the Lord’s vengeance, I myself don’t like it…
YET YET toward the end of the letter:
Today I rode to Pierce Butler’s plantation. It is so an immense place and part of it very
beautiful. The house is small and badly
built, like almost all I have seen here.
There are about ten of his slaves left there, all of them sixty or
seventy years old. He sold three hundred
slaves about three years ago. I talked
with some, whose children and grandchildren were sold then, and though they
said that was “a weeping day” they maintained that “mass Butler was a good
massa,” and they would give anything to see him again… They said all the house
servants had been taken in land by the overseers at the beginning of the war
and they asked if we couldn’t get their children back to the island again. They were all born and bred on the place and
even selling away their families could not entirely efface their love for their
master. Isn’t it horrible to think of a
man being able to treat such faithful creatures in such a manner?
YET YET
war finally is about killing and being killed.
Later in the
month from a letter dated 11 June 1863, a 28 year old Major in Pennsylvania cavalry,
Henry C Whelan writes home about what came to be seen as the largest cavalry
battle of the war. Notice the word cut.
…we dashed on, driving the Rebels into
and through the woods, our men fighting with the sabre alone, whilst they used
principally pistols. Our brave fellows
cut them out of the saddle and fought like tigers, until I discovered they were
on both flanks, pouring a cross fire of carbines and pistols on us, and then tried
to rally my men and make them return the fire with their carbines…
…one officer rode close up on my
right side and leveled his pistol, I stooped under his arm on “Lancer’s” neck
as he fired, and gave him a hissing cut with my sabre as I flew by--- I then
dropped my sabre on my wrist and drew my pistol and fired at all who came to
close--- I passed a dismounted Rebel officer so close I could have cut his head
off. An Irishman, of Company K who was splendidly
mounted stuck to me like a leech and called out from behind: Major, there’s an officer--- shall I cut him
down?” I saw his horse was killed and he
himself stood defenseless, so I told the man to let him alone. That Irishman cried out, when I cut the rebel
who has fired his pistol at me: “Good
for you, Major’, and gave a regular Irish whoop.
Whelan’s horse Lancer is shot out
from under him.
In a moment my orderly, Ward, of
Company C, rode up to me, sprung to the ground and said, “Major take my horse—I
have a carbine and can get back safely on foot.” I mounted and rode back whilst Ward turned and
shot a Rebel who was robbing “Lancer” of his saddle blanket. Lieut. Lennig was lost at that place, whether
killed, wounded or taken prisoner, we don’t know. How I escaped through all I can’t
imagine. I was only grazed on the left
wrist and didn’t know it till I saw my wrist bathed in blood. The shot which killed “Lancer” passed close
by my thigh through the saddle bag piercing Bulwer’s “What will he do with it”,
which was strapped to the saddle bag. I
will send this book to you by mail. It
has some of Lancer’s blood on it.
Of course next month, July, 150 years
ago, Gettysburg.
I took my wife,
Anna Saar and daughter, Elizabeth, to Gettysburg ten years ago toward the end
of July and we talked the field across which Pickett’s charge marched… in the
heat… the Library of America version of the Civil War is like that experience
via words read, one never forgets the visceral feeling of the heat and with a
little imagination… supplied by words read
