Typee | Page 7

first literary pilgrimage, a call upon Herman Melville,
the renowned author of 'Typee,' etc. He lives in a spacious farmhouse
about two miles from Pittsfield, a weary walk through the dust. But it
as well repaid. I introduced myself as a Hawaiian-American, and soon
found myself in full tide of talk, or rather of monologue. But he would
not repeat the experiences of which I had been reading with rapture in
his books. In vain I sought to hear of Typee and those paradise islands,
but he preferred to pour forth his philosophy and his theories of life.
The shade of Aristotle arose like a cold mist between myself and
Fayaway. We have quite enough of deep philosophy at Williams
College, and I confess I was disappointed in this trend of the talk. But
what a talk it was! Melville is transformed from a Marquesan to a
gypsy student, the gypsy element still remaining strong within him.
And this contradiction gives him the air of one who has suffered from
opposition, both literary and social. With his liberal views, he is
apparently considered by the good people of Pittsfield as little better
than a cannibal or a 'beach-comber.' His attitude seemed to me
something like that of Ishmael; but perhaps I judged hastily. I managed
to draw him out very freely on everything but the Marquesas Islands,
and when I left him he was in full tide of discourse on all things sacred
and profane. But he seems to put away the objective side of his life, and
to shut himself up in this cold north as a cloistered thinker.'
I have been told by Dr. Coan that his father, the Rev. Titus Coan, of the
Hawaiian Islands, personally visited the Marquesas group, found the
Typee Valley, and verified in all respects the statements made in
'Typee.' It is known that Mr. Melville from early manhood indulged
deeply in philosophical studies, and his fondness for discussing such
matters is pointed out by Hawthorne also, in the 'English Note Books.'
This habit increased as he advanced in years, if possible.
The chief event of the residence in Pittsfield was the completion and
publication of 'Moby Dick; or, the Whale,' in 1851. How many young

men have been drawn to sea by this book is a question of interest.
Meeting with Mr. Charles Henry Webb ('John Paul') the day after Mr.
Melville's death, I asked him if he were not familiar with that author's
writings. He replied that 'Moby Dick' was responsible for his three
years of life before the mast when a lad, and added that while
'gamming' on board another vessel he had once fallen in with a member
of the boat's crew which rescued Melville from his friendly
imprisonment among the Typees.
While at Pittsfield, besides his own family, Mr. Melville's mother and
sisters resided with him. As his four children grew up he found it
necessary to obtain for them better facilities for study than the village
school afforded; and so, several years after, the household was broken
up, and he removed with his wife and children to the New York house
that was afterwards his home. This house belonged to his brother Allan,
and was exchanged for the estate at Pittsfield. In December, 1866, he
was appointed by Mr. H. A. Smyth, a former travelling companion in
Europe, a district officer in the New York Custom House. He held the
position until 1886, preferring it to in-door clerical work, and then
resigned, the duties becoming too arduous for his failing strength.
In addition to his philosophical studies, Mr. Melville was much
interested in all matters relating to the fine arts, and devoted most of his
leisure hours to the two subjects. A notable collection of etchings and
engravings from the old masters was gradually made by him, those
from Claude's paintings being a specialty. After he retired from the
Custom House, his tall, stalwart figure could be seen almost daily
tramping through the Fort George district or Central Park, his roving
inclination leading him to obtain as much out-door life as possible. His
evenings were spent at home with his books, his pictures, and his
family, and usually with them alone; for, in spite of the melodramatic
declarations of various English gentlemen, Melville's seclusion in his
latter years, and in fact throughout his life, was a matter of personal
choice. More and more, as he grew older, he avoided every action on
his part, and on the part of his family, that might tend to keep his name
and writings before the public. A few friends felt at liberty to visit the
recluse, and were kindly welcomed, but he himself sought no one. His

favorite companions were his grandchildren, with whom he delighted
to pass his time, and his