Mittwoch, 20. Februar 2019

TYPEE by Herman Melville illustrated by Mead Schaeffer

Mead Schaeffer (1898-1980) was born in Freedom Plains, NY and grew up in Springfield, Massachusetts. The son of a Presbyterian minister, he called himself a grandchild of Howard Pyle. He studied at Pratt Institute and then with Dean Cornwell, a pupil of Harvey Dunn. From this educational lineage, Schaeffer developed his talent in the finest tradition of the Brandywine School. His early illustrations of romance and adventures stories were characterized by a painterly technique with color laid down in generous and satisfying strokes. https://www.illustrationhistory.org/artists/mead-schaeffer


Mead Schaeffer

Frontispiece
The first day after Fayaway’s emancipation, I had a delightful little party on the lake—the damsel, Kory-Kory, and myself.


I found him ripe for the enterprise, and a very few
  words sufficed for a mutual understanding between us

At last we gained the top of the second elevation, the loftiest of those I have described as extending in parallel lines between us and the valley we desired to reach. 

We were soon completely encircled by a dense throng, and in their eager desire to behold us, they almost arrested our progress; an equal number surrounding our youthful guides, who, with amazing volubility, appeared to be detailing the circumstances which had attended their meeting with us. Every item of intelligence appeared to redouble the astonishment of the islanders, and they gazed at us with inquiring looks. 

In the midst of the greatest uproar and confusion, the body was carried into the house and laid on a mat. Waving the natives off to give room and air, I bent eagerly over Toby, and, laying my hand upon the breast, ascertained that the heart still beat. Overjoyed at this, I seized a calabash of water, and dashed its contents upon his face, then, wiping away the blood, anxiously examined the wound. It was about three inches long, and, on removing the clotted hair from about it, showed the skull laid completely bare. Immediately with my knife I cut away the heavy locks, and bathed the part repeatedly in water. 

Having completed their preparations, the girls now exhibited themselves in gala costume; the most conspicuous feature of which was a necklace of beautiful white flowers, with the stems removed, and strung closely together upon a single fibre of tappa. Corresponding ornaments were inserted in their ears, and woven garlands upon their heads. About their waist they wore a short tunic of spotless white tappa, and some of them superadded to this a mantle of the same material, tied in an elaborate bow upon the left shoulder, and falling about the figure in picturesque folds.Thus arrayed, I would have matched the charming Fayaway against any beauty in the world.
Mehevi was in fact the greatest of the chiefs—the head of his clan—the sovereign of the valley; and the simplicity of the social institutions of the people could not have been more completely proved than by the fact, that after having been several weeks in the valley, and almost in daily intercourse with Mehevi, I should have remained until the time of the festival ignorant of his regal character. But a new light had now broken in upon me. The Ti was the palace—and Mehevi the king. Both the one and the other of a most simple and patriarchal nature it must be allowed, and wholly unattended by the ceremonious pomp which usually surrounds the purple. 

About midnight, as I imagined, I arose and drew the slide. The natives, just as I had expected, started up, while some of them asked, “Arware poo awa, Tommo?” (where are you going, Tommo?) “Wai,” (water,) I laconically answered, grasping the calabash. On hearing my reply they sank back again, and in a minute or two I returned to my mat, anxiously awaiting the result of the experiment. 

Endpapers

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