Character Clues
Character Analysis
Actions
You do you, but we're gonna judge your actions, 'kay? Like, only to get a sense of what's what. At least that's how're we're approaching some of the two-stepping and sleight-of-hand trickery we see going on in The Confidence-Man. Let's put that another way: actions are important in this novel, but ZOMG, every single action is open to multiple interpretations, because everyone in this novel is doing crazy dishonest (or non-honest? a-honest?) stuff, and we can barely keep anything straight.
We offer an example:
Finding his book, hitherto resting on his lap, rather irksome there, the owner now places it edgewise on the settee, between himself and neighbor; in so doing, chancing to expose the lettering on the back—"Black Rapids Coal Company"—which the good merchant, scrupulously honorable, had much ado to avoid reading, so directly would it have fallen under his eye, had he not conscientiously averted it. On a sudden, as if just reminded of something, the stranger starts up, and moves away, in his haste leaving his book; which the merchant observing, without delay takes it up, and, hurrying after, civilly returns it; in which act he could not avoid catching sight by an involuntary glance of part of the lettering. (10, 39)
Did Tassel put his ledger down just so in order for the country merchant to see what it said? Did he realize the country merchant tried hard not to read it? Is that why Tassel ran away, leaving the book behind? We wonder because it worked: the country merchant read it and begged to buy some stocks.
Melville doesn't tell us what to think when it comes to his characters' actions. He just raises the questions—and the stakes when we try to answer them.
Clothing
Melville might have been able to pull off an alternate career as a fashion runway reporter. If they had fashion runways in 1857. The man loves him some catwalk chatter. His verbal snapshots of different characters are fairly detailed, and they seem to suggest an implicit personality correlation. Clothes make the characters, and vice-versa.
On top of that, these snapshots of clothing allow Melville to exercise his talent for passive-aggressive potshots with lines like "the unsuitableness of a violet vest, sending up sunset hues to a countenance betokening a kind of bilious habit," which is used to describe Charlie's nauseating getup (25, 4).
Hey, don't normally judge a book by its cover—or most people by their outfits—but feel free to go hog-wild if it's The Confidence-Man we're talking about.
Location
Sometimes, where you're from follows you around forever. This shouldn't weigh too heavily on your shoulders IRL, but in a text where some characters are known by their locales more than by their names—think of Pitch, for example, who's referred to most often as "the Missourian"—one's home is a detail that's hard to shake.
At the same time, this tendency to name characters after locations seems more like a way to stylize the characters—to make them kind of weird, not quite "realistic," in order to make the whole book kind of wacky—than to make any real commentary on specific locations. Does Guinea have a lot to do with Guinea? Maybe not. Seems like just another way to make the narrative a little symbolic, a little weird, and a lot fun.
Names
There are precious few names in The Confidence-Man. We can't decide if this makes the characters harder to track or not. Either way, you're going to remember people more for random features than for their cool monikers. The few times we are given names, they show up way after we've thought of a character as "the cosmopolitan" for so long that we don't really want to think of the dude as Frank.
Knowing his name, though, does give us pause: Frank is short for Francis Goodman. Since this is a satire, we suspect that this might be less an overt characterization than a joke. You know, with a name like that, he should be a good dude—but come on, he's probably not. So it's funny.
Melville's not going for realism here, exactly. His narrative is kind of like those wacky medieval paintings with people moving through landscapes that have angels, monsters, demons, whatever—a little bit scary, a little bit funny, a lot symbolic. Just enjoy the ride.
Occupation
When you've got characters like the herb-doctor who are known only as "the herb-doctor," you start to sit up and take notice of where the money's coming from.
Sometimes it's not pretty. For example, when the herb-doctor meets a man who's lost the use of his legs begging for money, he convinces the dude to try some medicine by manipulating the man's suspicions and employing a "suit yourself" tactic. Finally, the man gives up what little money he has—and even thanks the herb-doctor for his kindness:
"Stay," in a convulsed voice, and rocking himself, "stay, stay! You have made a better man of me. You have borne with me like a good Christian, and talked to me like one, and all that is enough without making me a present of these boxes. Here is the money. I won't take nay. There, there; and may Almighty goodness go with you." (19, 90)
Ick factor? Major. The herb-doctor is abusing his authority while offering meds that do no good. All we've got to go on is his job-specific non-name, and in this context that "name" screams volumes.
Props
You may speak softly, but if you're carrying a big stick, you're sending a message. Much like gigs, digs, and duds, the things they carry tell us a good deal about these characters.
Sometimes the text is super self-aware about this: the unfortunate Weeds "was…an innocent outcast, wandering forlorn in the great valley of the Mississippi, with a weed on his hat for the loss of his Goneril" (12, 4). That weed actually speaks volumes: it's a rather strange prop for a strange man in a strange story—and it's about as flimsy and silly as the guy himself.
Also notable is the stockbroker's ledger. The stockbroker makes the comment that in an unprofessional setting, like the social areas of the boat, no one should transact business—and yet he's never without his ledger. That little ledger signifies that this dude, no matter what he says, is ready at moment's notice to take someone's money—for investment purposes, of course.
Speech and Dialogue
One thing that characterizes this not-so-traditional novel is its series of informal dialogues. One thing that comes out in these dialogues is the fact that each of the characters speaks his own kind of English. Some spout out the slang, others wax poetic, few keep it real.
Beyond the characterization we get through speech and dialogue, we witness how characters respond to each other in relation to the way they speak. For example, when the cosmopolitan asks the barber if he has his confidence, what ensues is an interesting internal nod to class influences on speech:
"Ah, sir, all people ain't like you," was the smooth reply [from the barber], at the same time, as if smoothly to close the debate, beginning smoothly to apply the lather, which operation, however, was, by a motion, protested against by the subject, but only out of a desire to rejoin, which was done in these words:
"All people ain't like me. Then I must be either better or worse than most people. Worse, you could not mean; no, barber, you could not mean that; hardly that. It remains, then, that you think me better than most people. But that I ain't vain enough to believe; though, from vanity, I confess, I could never yet, by my best wrestlings, entirely free myself; nor, indeed, to be frank, am I at bottom over anxious to—this same vanity, barber, being so harmless, so useful, so comfortable, so pleasingly preposterous a passion." (42, 20-21)
Up until this moment, the cosmopolitan has spoken fairly erudite, complicated English. He rocks the metaphor, the allusion, the turn of phrase—you name it. He doesn't employ the "ain't." Not, that is, until now. Like a politician on the campaign trail, the cosmopolitan tries to tailor his speech to the barber. If he talks like you, maybe you'll trust him…
Yeah. Seems like Melville acknowledges the fact that people judge people all the time on the basis of what they wear and what they say. Maybe that's why he puts so much care in giving us a variety of characters whose speech we too can judge—assess. We mean assess.