The best parts of Israel Potter occur when Potter comes into contact with Important Historical Personages. The first such encounter, setting aside Potter’s fighting at Bunker Hill under General Israel Putnam’s instruction to wait to shoot until seeing the whites of the enemies’ eyes, is with none other than King George III. Israel is working temporarily in Kew Gardens and meets the King out on a stroll. He admits to being an American and tells George that he has no king.
Later, during his spying days, Israel meets Benjamin Franklin. Melville’s sketch of Franklin is hilarious. The aged doctor is decadent, hypocritical, persnickety, and one of the biggest know-it-alls around. He has a whole store of down-home, plain folk truths to share with Israel, whom he must keep waiting alone while Franklin is on other business. “But you must not be idle,” he tells Israel. “Here is Poor Richard’s Almanac, which in view of our late conversation, I commend to your earnest perusal.”
Retiring to his own room, Israel does pick up the book, but the Real American, the farmboy with the guerrilla-style marksmanship, the jack-of-all-trades who is constitutionally incapable of uttering the words “Sir John” in front of a man’s last name, is not impressed.
“Oh confound all this wisdom! It’s a sort of insulting to talk wisdom to a man like me. It’s wisdom that’s cheap, and it’s fortune that’s dear. That ain’t in Poor Richard; but it ought to be,” concluded Israel, suddenly slamming down the pamphlet.
It’s much more fun when we get to John Paul Jones. Any reader of Moby-Dick will find immediate similarities, as if Melville is playing a joke on himself. They meet in Doctor Franklin’s apartments, where both must spend the night in hiding. “Why not sleep together,” said Israel, “see, it is a big bed. Or perhaps you don’t fancy your bed-fellow, Captain?”
This time it’s Queequeg who isn’t ready for a bed-partner, and Jones and Israel don’t completely hit it off until later, on a whole different adventure. Israel has been conscripted into the English navy, and at the beginning of a cruise is sent as the only sailor to help aboard a small craft strugging in the Channel. Hearing through the fog a familiar voice, Israel is suddenly struck with the idea that he can take the boat himself, and does so in a flurry of action. Jones is pleased to see his old acquaintance, and impressed with his feat.
“Give me your hand, my lion; wave your wild flax again. By heaven, you hate so well, I love ye. You shall be my confidential man; stand sentry at my cabin door; sleep in the cabin; steer my boat; keep by my side whenever I land. What do you say?”
“I say I’m glad to hear you.”
“You are a good, brave soul. You are the first among the millions of mankind that I ever naturally took to. Come, you are tired. There, go into that state-room for to-night—it’s mine. You offered me your bed in Paris.”
There’s that naturally affinity again.
Later, Israel will meet one more famous revolutionary: Ethan Allen. The scene of Allen captured at Falmouth, half savage, half bear almost, is another lovely piece of American mythology, writ silly. But that’s a topic for tomorrow.
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