- description
- # II.
## Overview
This document is section "II." of a larger work, extracted from the file `pierre.txt`. It was created on January 30, 2026.
## Context
This section is part of Book XXII of a larger work, which is contained within the "Melville Complete Works" collection. It follows section "I." and precedes section "III.".
## Contents
Section "II." describes the character Pierre in a state of extreme self-imposed isolation for the purpose of writing. The text details the elaborate preparations made by his affectionate companions, Isabel and Delly, to keep him warm and comfortable in his makeshift study. Pierre is described as being bundled in multiple layers of clothing, with hot bricks placed around him to ward off the cold. His writing materials, including an inkstand, are also kept warm. A camp bed is brought near him, holding books, food, and water. He is equipped with a crook-ended cane to reach items beyond his immediate grasp, highlighting his inability to rise without disturbing his carefully arranged environment.
The narrative contrasts Pierre's physical frailty and the miserable conditions of his study with his youthful vigor and the "overflowing, upbubbling, universal life" within him. The text questions whether this environment and pursuit are what nature intended for him, drawing a stark comparison between his situation and the freedom of a "Texan Camanche." It concludes by presenting Pierre as a victim of "Civilization, Philosophy, [and] Ideal Virtue."
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- description_title
- II.
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- 13358
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- text
- II.
With cheek rather pale, then, and lips rather blue, Pierre sits down to
his plank.
But is Pierre packed in the mail for St. Petersburg this morning? Over
his boots are his moccasins; over his ordinary coat is his surtout; and
over that, a cloak of Isabel's. Now he is squared to his plank; and at
his hint, the affectionate Isabel gently pushes his chair closer to it,
for he is so muffled, he can hardly move of himself. Now Delly comes in
with bricks hot from the stove; and now Isabel and she with devoted
solicitude pack away these comforting stones in the folds of an old blue
cloak, a military garment of the grandfather of Pierre, and tenderly
arrange it both over and under his feet; but putting the warm flagging
beneath. Then Delly brings still another hot brick to put under his
inkstand, to prevent the ink from thickening. Then Isabel drags the
camp-bedstead nearer to him, on which are the two or three books he may
possibly have occasion to refer to that day, with a biscuit or two, and
some water, and a clean towel, and a basin. Then she leans against the
plank by the elbow of Pierre, a crook-ended stick. Is Pierre a shepherd,
or a bishop, or a cripple? No, but he has in effect, reduced himself to
the miserable condition of the last. With the crook-ended cane,
Pierre--unable to rise without sadly impairing his manifold
intrenchments, and admitting the cold air into their innermost
nooks,--Pierre, if in his solitude, he should chance to need any thing
beyond the reach of his arm, then the crook-ended cane drags it to his
immediate vicinity.
Pierre glances slowly all round him; every thing seems to be right; he
looks up with a grateful, melancholy satisfaction at Isabel; a tear
gathers in her eye; but she conceals it from him by coming very close to
him, stooping over, and kissing his brow. 'Tis her lips that leave the
warm moisture there; not her tears, she says.
"I suppose I must go now, Pierre. Now don't, don't be so long to-day. I
will call thee at half-past four. Thou shalt not strain thine eyes in
the twilight."
"We will _see_ about that," says Pierre, with an unobserved attempt at a
very sad pun. "Come, thou must go. Leave me."
And there he is left.
Pierre is young; heaven gave him the divinest, freshest form of a man;
put light into his eye, and fire into his blood, and brawn into his arm,
and a joyous, jubilant, overflowing, upbubbling, universal life in him
everywhere. Now look around in that most miserable room, and at that
most miserable of all the pursuits of a man, and say if here be the
place, and this be the trade, that God intended him for. A rickety
chair, two hollow barrels, a plank, paper, pens, and infernally black
ink, four leprously dingy white walls, no carpet, a cup of water, and a
dry biscuit or two. Oh, I hear the leap of the Texan Camanche, as at
this moment he goes crashing like a wild deer through the green
underbrush; I hear his glorious whoop of savage and untamable health;
and then I look in at Pierre. If physical, practical unreason make the
savage, which is he? Civilization, Philosophy, Ideal Virtue! behold your
victim!
- title
- II.