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CHAPTER XXXIII. WHICH MAY PASS FOR WHATEVER IT MAY PROVE TO BE WORTH.

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# CHAPTER XXXIII. WHICH MAY PASS FOR WHATEVER IT MAY PROVE TO BE WORTH. ## Overview This is a chapter from the novel "THE CONFIDENCE-MAN: HIS MASQUERADE." by Herman Melville. It is part of the "Melville Complete Works" collection and was extracted from the file "the_confidence_man.txt". ## Context This chapter serves as a meta-commentary within the novel, addressing potential criticisms of its artistic choices. The narrator directly engages with hypothetical readers who might find the characters and events unrealistic. The narrator defends the use of heightened reality and imaginative license in fiction, comparing it to the conventions of theater and religion, which also present worlds distinct from everyday life. The chapter emphasizes that readers of fiction often seek an escape from the mundane and appreciate characters who are more expressive and less constrained than those encountered in daily life. The narrator asserts that this chapter aims to satisfy the reader's desire for novelty and entertainment, even if it means deviating from strict realism. ## Contents Chapter XXXIII is a narrative interlude that reflects on the nature of fiction and reader expectations. It discusses the balance between realism and imagination in storytelling, arguing that works of amusement should offer a transformed, rather than a literal, representation of life. The chapter defends the author's artistic freedom to create characters and situations that may seem unconventional, suggesting that such elements contribute to a richer and more engaging reading experience. It concludes by referencing a previous chapter where similar apparent inconsistencies in character were addressed, implying a deliberate thematic or structural purpose behind these narrative choices.
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2026-01-30T20:48:40.862Z
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CHAPTER XXXIII. WHICH MAY PASS FOR WHATEVER IT MAY PROVE TO BE WORTH.
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2026-01-30T20:47:36.061Z
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CHAPTER XXXIII. WHICH MAY PASS FOR WHATEVER IT MAY PROVE TO BE WORTH. But ere be given the rather grave story of Charlemont, a reply must in civility be made to a certain voice which methinks I hear, that, in view of past chapters, and more particularly the last, where certain antics appear, exclaims: How unreal all this is! Who did ever dress or act like your cosmopolitan? And who, it might be returned, did ever dress or act like harlequin? Strange, that in a work of amusement, this severe fidelity to real life should be exacted by any one, who, by taking up such a work, sufficiently shows that he is not unwilling to drop real life, and turn, for a time, to something different. Yes, it is, indeed, strange that any one should clamor for the thing he is weary of; that any one, who, for any cause, finds real life dull, should yet demand of him who is to divert his attention from it, that he should be true to that dullness. There is another class, and with this class we side, who sit down to a work of amusement tolerantly as they sit at a play, and with much the same expectations and feelings. They look that fancy shall evoke scenes different from those of the same old crowd round the custom-house counter, and same old dishes on the boardinghouse table, with characters unlike those of the same old acquaintances they meet in the same old way every day in the same old street. And as, in real life, the proprieties will not allow people to act out themselves with that unreserve permitted to the stage; so, in books of fiction, they look not only for more entertainment, but, at bottom, even for more reality, than real life itself can show. Thus, though they want novelty, they want nature, too; but nature unfettered, exhilarated, in effect transformed. In this way of thinking, the people in a fiction, like the people in a play, must dress as nobody exactly dresses, talk as nobody exactly talks, act as nobody exactly acts. It is with fiction as with religion: it should present another world, and yet one to which we feel the tie. If, then, something is to be pardoned to well-meant endeavor, surely a little is to be allowed to that writer who, in all his scenes, does but seek to minister to what, as he understands it, is the implied wish of the more indulgent lovers of entertainment, before whom harlequin can never appear in a coat too parti-colored, or cut capers too fantastic. One word more. Though every one knows how bootless it is to be in all cases vindicating one's self, never mind how convinced one may be that he is never in the wrong; yet, so precious to man is the approbation of his kind, that to rest, though but under an imaginary censure applied to but a work of imagination, is no easy thing. The mention of this weakness will explain why such readers as may think they perceive something harmonious between the boisterous hilarity of the cosmopolitan with the bristling cynic, and his restrained good-nature with the boon-companion, are now referred to that chapter where some similar apparent inconsistency in another character is, on general principles, modestly endeavored to-be apologized for.
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CHAPTER XXXIII. WHICH MAY PASS FOR WHATEVER IT MAY PROVE TO BE WORTH.

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