The Confidence-Man: His MasqueradeMelville, Herman
General
The Confidence-Man: His Masquerade
Melville, Herman
Mississippi River -- Fiction; Satire; Steamboats -- Fiction; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction
"Oh that would have been too bad. Grant he was vicious. The petty vices
of boys are like the innocent kicks of colts, as yet imperfectly broken.
Some boys know not virtue only for the same reason they know not French;
it was never taught them. Established upon the basis of parental
charity, juvenile asylums exist by law for the benefit of lads convicted
of acts which, in adults, would have received other requital. Why?
Because, do what they will, society, like our office, at bottom has a
Christian confidence in boys. And all this we say to our patrons."
"Your patrons, sir, seem your marines to whom you may say anything,"
said the other, relapsing. "Why do knowing employers shun youths from
asylums, though offered them at the smallest wages? I'll none of your
reformado boys."
"Such a boy, respected sir, I would not get for you, but a boy that
never needed reform. Do not smile, for as whooping-cough and measles are
juvenile diseases, and yet some juveniles never have them, so are there
boys equally free from juvenile vices. True, for the best of boys'
measles may be contagious, and evil communications corrupt good manners;
but a boy with a sound mind in a sound body--such is the boy I would get
you. If hitherto, sir, you have struck upon a peculiarly bad vein of
boys, so much the more hope now of your hitting a good one."
"That sounds a kind of reasonable, as it were--a little so, really. In
fact, though you have said a great many foolish things, very foolish and
absurd things, yet, upon the whole, your conversation has been such as
might almost lead one less distrustful than I to repose a certain
conditional confidence in you, I had almost added in your office, also.
Now, for the humor of it, supposing that even I, I myself, really had
this sort of conditional confidence, though but a grain, what sort of a
boy, in sober fact, could you send me? And what would be your fee?"
"Conducted," replied the other somewhat loftily, rising now in eloquence
as his proselyte, for all his pretenses, sunk in conviction, "conducted
upon principles involving care, learning, and labor, exceeding what is
usual in kindred institutions, the Philosophical Intelligence Office is
forced to charge somewhat higher than customary. Briefly, our fee is
three dollars in advance. As for the boy, by a lucky chance, I have a
very promising little fellow now in my eye--a very likely little fellow,
indeed."
"Honest?"
"As the day is long. Might trust him with untold millions. Such, at
least, were the marginal observations on the phrenological chart of his
head, submitted to me by the mother."
"How old?"
"Just fifteen."
"Tall? Stout?"
"Uncommonly so, for his age, his mother remarked."
"Industrious?"
"The busy bee."
The bachelor fell into a troubled reverie. At last, with much hesitancy,
he spoke:
"Do you think now, candidly, that--I say candidly--candidly--could I
have some small, limited--some faint, conditional degree of confidence
in that boy? Candidly, now?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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