Moby Dick

A while back I marked a quote (we might have looked at it in class) that struck me at the time, but it wasn’t until I just returned to it that I realized how significant and meaningful this quote really is. It comes to us from Ishmael, in a seemingly unremarkable part of the novel, just after we meet the crew of the Pequod. Chapter 57: Of Whales in Paint; In Teeth, In Wood; In Sheet-Iron; In Stone; In Mountains; In Stars, page two of the chapter (289 in my Bantam Classics Edition):

Long exile from Christendom and civilization inevitably restores a man to that condition in which God placed him, i.e., what is called savagery. Your true whale-hunter is as much a savage as an Iroquois. I myself am a savage, owning no allegiance but to the King of the Cannibals; and ready at any moment to rebel against him.

What a remarkable and revealing statement of Melville’s feelings on race (and more). You’ll notice I posed this blog to race, but I may just as well posted it to a half dozen other categories. Ishmael portrays these savage whalers as a different race–a group of men restored to that condition in which God placed them. Melville views these savage whalers as a somewhat divine and natural race, men not of civilization and Christendom, but of God, nature, and the environment.

How can Ishmael characterize a whale-hunter as as much of a savage as an Iroquois? Because a whaler, though bound by the rules and regulations of the ship, is otherwise a wholly free and simple man. A man–at least temporarily–without allegiance to a nation, religion, or profession other than hunting–taking what he needs for himself from the earth.

Ishmael almost (or does he?) goes as far as to call himself a cannibal, a lawless animal without principle, as one would have taken the term to mean in the 19th century. But even to this he would be ready to rebel at any moment, because like a cannibal he has no allegiance to anyone or any institution and would devour his own brother or leader if need be (a stretch, but stay with me).

With this insight into the nature of these savage whalers, it is now no wonder to me that the savages have always had pratical control of the ship, because in essence all of the crew are savages. Compared to a landlubber, the whitest man among them may as well be a tattooed, bloodthirsty cannibal. But what I do wonder at, what now seems so impressive to me, is how Ahab could have gained the allegiance and cooperation of a ship of 35 savages. What a feat he pulled off on the quarter-deck to manage to guide the focus of all these free natives towards a doomed plot to kill an albino monster. Perhaps Ahab is this King of Cannibals, the only man who could ever hope to gain the imprudent obedience of a crew of seafaring barbarians.

What drives a man to give up a normal life on land to pursue a whale at sea? Is it revenge? A power struggle? An insane madness that does not cease? Or perhaps it is something else entirely different, something divine. For Captain Ahab, the desire to destroy the white whale does not seem to come solely from revenge; it also comes from God. In Chapter 132 “The Symphony,” Ahab reveals what he believes is the real source of his quest to kill the whale:

Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, or God, that lifts this arm? If the great sun moves not of himself, but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I (521).

In what seems to be a radical departure from the confident Captain of previous chapters, Ahab shows a side of him that seems uncertain of his own free will. Is Ahab fighting God because God makes Ahab do it, or is this God fighting Himself? Ahab paints God as a sort of puppet master, a being that plays an active role in the lives of its creations and makes them do what it wants. This type of Christian God seems to derive from Calvinism, a branch of Christianity that did not believe that people could have a personal relationship with the divine. Calvinists also believed in predestination — God controlled their lives and ordained before a person’s birth whether or not he or she was to be saved or damned. It is interesting that throughout the novel, Ahab seems to be fighting against God by forging his own destiny, but now he questions whether it was Ahab or God who controlled his fate.

This depiction of God as a puppet master is not entirely surprising, however. Given the time period and Melville’s own religious beliefs, this image of God is almost to be expected. The fact that it appears so late in the novel is, however, of interest. Perhaps Melville does this to show that we can never truly escape God no matter how hard we may try. We are all simply puppets on God’s strings. Still, there is something to be said about Ahab’s humbling speech; the idea of a God that literally controls every aspect of one’s life (from breathing to thinking) is a disturbing yet comforting thought. On the one hand, to imagine a being that directs your life, that “lifts your arm,” suggests that one literally has no control whatsoever over one’s life. On the other hand, it also means that one is not accountable for one’s actions, which could be an excuse for otherwise inexcusable or unexplainable behavior.

Ahab’s statement also raises a thought: if Ahab is pursuing the white whale (which could be viewed as God or a symbol of God) and he is doing this because God wills it, does this mean that God is fighting Himself? And if this is so, then why? To be honest I don’t have answers to these questions; I can only speculate that Melville is challenging his readers to consider all possibilities. One thing is certain: Ahab commits completely to his cause to destroy Moby Dick, no matter how foolish he believes it to be in the end. Whether this is an act of God or out of Ahab’s free remains a mystery.

Chapter 51, The Spirit-Spout, provides an interesting event in this novel. This phantom-like eruption of water serves to tempt and taunt Ahab, as it appears to be unattached and unaccompanied by a whale. Ishmael recounts its appearance,

“…on such a silent night a silvery jet was seen far in advance of the white bubbles at the bow. Lit up by the moon, it looked celestial; seemed some plumed and glittering god uprising from the sea…But when, after spending his uniform interval there for several successive nights without uttering a single sound; when, after all this silence, his [Fedallah] unearthly voice was heard announcing that silvery, moon-lit jet, every reclining mariner started to his feet as if some winged spirit had lighted in the rigging, and hailed the mortal crew.”(224-5)

Its enigmatic, teasing presence suggests that a whale is close by, but just out of reach.  Alluding to the depth of the ocean, the spirit spout in larger ways represents the innumerable ways in which the sea’s  infinite volume can hold and hide the mysteries and creatures of the deep.  The spout in a way acts as a symbol or metaphor for the somewhat unattainable goals and objects they desire of each of the sailors of the Pequod.  For Ahab, it further intensifies the chase of Moby-Dick, frustrating the captain in his pursuit to gain revenge for the loss of his leg and sense of his masculinity.  For Ishmael, the introspective narrator, the sea represents his desire for freedom.  He believes escape is possible on the ocean, and that it can provide a place to remove himself from the confines of society and alleviate his mind from the grasp of depression and melancholy. What he finds on board the Pequod, however, is a highly organized and stratified system of a hierarchy and dictatorship ruled by Ahab. Starbuck’s only wish is to return home safely to his wife and children as quickly as possible. However, his goal is thwarted by the obsessive demands of the captain. In a way, the spirit-spout symbolizes the unfulfilled goals and dissatisfaction of the Pequod sailors, as a limitation of each ones’ perceived destiny or fate.

At last! After 132 chapters of talking about and endlessly searching for him, we finally have encountered Moby Dick in the flesh. Up to this point, Melville has not really provided us with a lengthy description or compared Moby Dick to a mythological figure or concrete object as he has with so many other characters; the whale is simply an unknowable god-like entity. But in the first chase chapter, Melville finally provides us with a description of the white whale. He writes,

A gentle joyousness—a mighty mildness of repose in swiftness, invested the gliding whale. Not the white bull Jupiter swimming away with ravished Europa clinging to his graceful horns; his lovely, leering eyes sideways intent upon the maid; with smooth bewitching fleetness, rippling straight for the nuptial bower in Crete; not Jove, not that great majesty Supreme! did surpass the glorified White Whale as he so divinely swam. (Melville 596).

Melville likens Moby Dick to the king of gods, Jupiter, but in the form of a “white bull.” Melville is referencing the story of Europa, a beautiful Phoenician princess who was abducted by Jupiter. Jupiter fell in love with Europa and disguised himself as bull; he convinced her to get onto his back and then proceeded into the sea and swam to the island of Crete. I think that Melville references this story, not simply to imbue Moby Dick with a god-like aura and divine qualities, but also because it emphasizes the whale’s seductive powers over Ahab. While the story of Europa and Jupiter is not indistinguishable from Ahab and Moby Dick, there are certain parallels between the two. Much like the white bull, Moby Dick has this intriguing and irresistible quality that Ahab can not ignore; he has been consumed by this whale for the past year and has so to speak, climbed onto Moby Dick’s back and followed him half way around the world.

As we discussed in class, The Symphony chapter is very Shakespearen and Ahab’s long confession to Starbuck is reminiscent of King Lear. In addition to this Shakespearen reference, this chapter reminds me quite a bit of Greek tragedy, in particular Homer’s Iliad. Although they are not identical, the Trojan hero Hector and Captain Ahab share the characteristic of having a wife and young child at home. Hector is also fated to be killed by Achilles and even runs three laps around the city of Troy to stay away from the Greek soldier. In the same way that Hector knows that he eventually must confront Achilles (i.e. death), Ahab knows that he must fight Moby Dick. After Ahab reveals to Starbuck how much of his life he has regretted and Starbuck is hopeful that they might return to Nantucket, Ahab acquiesces and gives in to his death; he asks

What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm?… Aye, toil we how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness. (Melville 592)

In the same way that Hector is reluctant to accept his fate, Ahab admits that there is nothing in his “natural heart” that would make him want to continue on this quest for Moby Dick. There is some “hidden lord” or “remorseless emperor” who controls Ahab’s decisions that he cannot fight much like Hector who is coerced into battle by the gods. This scene also has another reference to Greek mythology when Ahab concludes that he will “sleep at last on the field.” After their deaths, Greek heroes would rest in the fields of Elysium. Like a tragic Greek hero, Ahab believes that he will soon die and lay in the Elysian Fields rather than heaven.

In my first post I noted that Captain Ahab shared his name with the notorious King Ahab from the Book of Kings (1 Kings 16). Though it seemed apparent that Captain Ahab had the flaw of hubris, it was still not clear if he would follow the path of King Ahab. While overseeing the production of the harpoon that will be used to kill Moby Dick, Ahab seems to transform into someone entirely different. He uses the blood of the pagan “savages” in the making of the harpoon and exclaims:

Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli! (471)

Translated from Latin, Ahab’s cry becomes clear: “I baptize you not in the name of the father, but in the name of the devil!” With these words, Ahab seems to revoke his faith in God and monotheism by invoking the name of the devil and using pagan blood in the making of the harpoon. Ahab’s faith in God to help him succeed in his mission has been lost; he appears to have turned against God. This parallels nicely with King Ahab, who gave up monotheism to worship the pagan god Baal.

Now that Captain Ahab has begun to fulfill his destiny that came with his name, what is Melville trying to say? There is, no doubt, something unsettling about the unholy baptism that Ahab performs. It is no longer just about Moby Dick anymore. I can’t help but think of John Milton’s Paradise Lost, which (from what I know about it) details Satan’s attempt to wage war in Heaven and his ultimate banishment to Hell. Captain Ahab, too, seems to be a “hell-raiser,” an individual who is not afraid to stir up a little trouble. Ahab is saying, “No!” to God by purposefully corrupting the Sacrament of Baptism and continuing on his pursuit to destroy the whale. If Ahab sees Moby Dick as God, or at least an agent of God, then it appears that he is in fact trying to overcome and metaphorically kill God. Thus he is no longer only Captain Ahab and “King Ahab,” but also Satan himself.

This side of Ahab, the part of him that relentlessly seeks the whale and willingly “blasphemes” against God, is only one part of him. To complicate matters further, Melville gives the reader a glimpse into who could be the “real” Captain Ahab in Chapter 132 “The Symphony.” I will discuss this chapter in my next blog post and how it gives some clues as to what exactly drives Ahab in his crazed pursuit of the whale (beyond simple revenge).

Sources:

1. http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Kings+16&version=NIV (1 Kings 16:29-34)

I’d like to focus my blog on the issue of gender as it relates to the theatrical chapter 36: The Quarter-Deck.

First we see the bold image of Captain Ahab, walking the deck after breakfast as a country gentleman would subsequently take a stroll in his garden, though with a visage like the horizon of a coming storm. The most perceptive Stubb first notices this coming storm: (175) “D’ye mark him Flask? The chick that’s in him pecks the shell. ‘Twill soon be out.” The shell is broken and out flies that chick in this scene (Enter Ahab: Then all) as Ahab calls all hands to the Quarter-Deck–the stage of his subsequent lecture on the killing of the White Whale.

The Ra-Ra that follows is characteristic of many a homosocial scene: the general to his troops before battle, the head of a Fraternity to the soon-to-be inducted Freshmen, the Football coach at halftime. When Ahab says (178), “Aye Starbuck; aye, my hearties all round; it was Moby Dick that dismasted me,” he seems to say that Moby Dick took his very manhood from him (and his countenance has since been a means of compensating for it). Ahab makes sure–as is necessary in these situations–to compliment and praise his crew as he stirs them up: (178) “What say ye men, will ye splice hands on it, now? I think ye do look brave.”

What’s more, Ahab has a classic masculine vendetta, of enacting his vengeance on what Starbuck calls “a dumb brute.” Ahab reveals that he would go even further than that and smite that which is both inanimate and intangible: (179) “Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other.” And so he remarks, and eye for an eye, a limb for a limb–such is his stereotypically masculine principle. Though one might say that he has already gotten his limb for a limb, as upon losing his hominid leg, he gains a leviathan one (of ivory).

Ahab, attending to his goals in this chapter in a most precise, calculated, and surgical matter, understands the power of the mob mentality he has created with his performance: (to Starbuck, 179) “The crew, man, the crew! Are they not one and all with Ahab, in this matter of the whale?” They are, and both Starbuck and Ahab know that his sermon has produced the desired affect in inciting the crew and hindering opposition: “Starbuck is now mine, cannot oppose me now.

The speech delivered, Ahab facilitates a sort of White Whale Fraternity induction ceremony in which the men must drink and swear to bring death to Moby Dick. Finally, the performance ends as abruptly as it began–no lasting ceremonies, no lingering, no dilly-dallying. After all drink from the long, barbed, steel goblets and cry out their maledictions against the great White Whale, the men quickly disperse and Ahab disappears into his bachelor pad.

Preface: I’m really interested in the characterization of Captain Ahab through rumors both before and after chapter 28, and how he is depicted as a mystery and a legend. In reading Ishmael’s first full description of the man I became particularly interested in the phrase “barbaric white leg” when our narrator first notices the whale jaw peg leg. I thought it had a bit of an interesting connection to race in the novel, so here I am, trying to combine race and characterization.

When the surreptitious Captain Ahab finally appears before the crew of the Pequod, his grim air overwhelms Ishmael — so much so, our narrator tells us, that it took him a moment to realize that much of the grimness came from the captain’s “barbaric white leg” (117).

The phrase struck me because of the juxtaposition between “barbaric” and “white.” Ishmael most often uses the word “barbaric” to describe men of other races, much like his use of the word “savage.” The contrast between the two words sums up Ishmael’s first impression of Captain Ahab quite well. The captain, though a white man, is “wild” (117) and is in many ways depicted as superhuman, even mythical.

Before chapter 28, in which we meet Ahab, we learn about him through what others tell Ishmael. The rumors construct Ahab’s reputation, and the man becomes the subject of a myth. Ahab’s mythical characterization continues in Ishmael’s initial description of the mighty man. When he first lays eyes on his captain, Ishmael notes that “his whole high, broad form, seemed made of solid bronze,” likening the man to a statue (117). Who gets statues made of them? Certainly not whaling captains. Ancient, brave, mythical heroes get made into statues. Ishamel continues to glorify Ahab by comparing him to a “great tree” (117). This further separates Ahab from the other characters, from humans, and makes him more of a god-like figure.

Let’s go back to the phrase “barbaric white leg.” What makes the leg “barbaric” is its inhumanness. The leg, made from the jaw of a Sperm Whale, is by definition not human. While Captain Ahab’s being inhuman is what makes him great, we must note that therefore the use of the word “barbaric” in describing the non-white characters in Moby Dick is racist.

Ishmael often uses the word to describe the harpooneers, as much as he uses the words “savage” and “heathen.” We know, as modern readers, that these terms are politically incorrect and just plain rude. Ishmael’s use of “barbaric” in his description of Ahab reveals why. In Ahab’s characterization, to be inhuman is to be different from everyone else. However, that does not mean that to be different is to be inhuman. Regardless, Ishmael uses the same adjective to describe both the inhuman Ahab and the different harpooneers.

“Barbaric” and “white” is a suitable description of Ahab, the mysterious, wild captain. He is the least human character of the novel. But the presence of the word “barbaric” and its synonymity to “inhuman” makes us reflect on its use in other parts of the work, and its racist implications.

In Chapter 36 of Moby Dick, Captain Ahab reveals the secondary purpose of the Pequod’s voyage to his crew: Ahab seeks revenge against Moby Dick, the white whale that took Ahab’s leg, sanity, and pride. When a crewmember suggests that Ahab’s desire for revenge is ludicrous, Ahab responds with a speech reminiscent of a Shakespearean monologue.

I’d strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other; since there is ever a sort of fair play herein. Jealousy presiding over all creations. But not my master, man, is even that fair play. Who’s over me? (157)

With these words, Ahab reveals his hubris, a flaw that will no doubt cause harm to him later in the novel. His question of “Who’s over me?” seems more of a challenge than a matter of doubt; in his mind he is both willing and able to sail around the world until his revenge his complete, an act that he must consider impossible for others but not for him. As captain of the Pequod, Ahab already exerts a great deal of control over his crew which is further illustrated by his “change of plans” for the whaling voyage. Ahab’s madness seems to have driven him on a larger power trip in attempting to kill the white whale. This could be seen as a man versus nature conflict. It could be argued, however, that this in turn is part of man versus the unknown (or in this case God).

Ahab’s journey could also be compared and contrasted to Jonah’s from the Book of Jonah in the Bible. Jonah tried to run away from God by escaping to the sea and was swallowed up by a whale. Only when Jonah repented and prayed to God did the whale finally set him free after three days. Similarly, Ahab has gone to sea but instead of simply running away from God, Ahab is attempting to destroy the whale and establish himself as a being greater than God’s creations. Ahab could view the whale’s attack on him as something done by God through the whale (as an agent) which would put Ahab’s revenge against God. In this way Ahab would be seeking a status greater than the divine’s and his question of “Who’s over me?” would be answered with, “No one and nothing.”

Who exactly is above Ahab? Certainly no one in his crew and, in Ahab’s mind, certainly not Moby Dick. Whether Ahab will be successful in his revenge is yet to be seen, but if the story of Jonah serves as a model, it seems that Ahab too might be swallowed up by his pride and the whale. This would ultimately prove that humans cannot overcome nature and cannot, in turn, overcome the divine.

One occurrence of Melville’s literary allusions in Moby-Dick can be seen in his penchant for naming his characters after individuals from the Bible (Captain Ahab and the stranger Elijah).  These two examples reflect the embodiment of Melville’s individuals with the Scriptural significance of their stories.  Captain Ahab is named after the wicked, malicious king of Israel, who the Bible refers to as the “most evil of all kings that came before him” (1 Kings 16:30).  Named after such a reputation, this vindictive personality seems to loom over Captain Ahab, even before the reader is introduced to him.  Elijah, the curious stranger Queequeg and Ishmael encounter before leaving port, refers to the Biblical prophet of the same name (Melville even classifies him as such).  In Scripture, Elijah is first introduced through his warnings to King Ahab of the terrible misfortune that will come as a result of his evil doings. In Moby-Dick, Elijah serves a similar purpose by warning the two whale-men of the enigmatic sufferer who will be their captain, and the trying expedition ahead of them: “Shan’t see you again very soon, I guess; unless it’s before the Grand Jury.” (Melville, 95).  In this way, Elijah encapsulates the Biblical reference of his name.  He stirs in Ishmael a sense of apprehension and curiosity concerning his future captain and impending journey.

While these two characters are more clearly linked to the qualities their namesakes possessed, Ishmael presents a more interesting study.  The name Ishmael calls to mind the story in Genesis of Abraham’s slave-born son, Ishmael.  In Scripture, Ishmael is seen in opposition to the spirit of God.  The illegitimate son of slavery, there is no place reserved for him in the Family Covenant of God.  He is cast out from society, ostracized and shunned by mankind and God himself.   However, Ishmael, as the protagonist of Moby-Dick, chooses to purposefully separate and remove himself from the general body of society and the traditions of conventional Christianity by traveling to sea.  Ishmael writes, “I am tormented by an everlasting itch for things remote.  I love to sail forbidden seas and land on barbarous coasts.” (Melville, 6)  His questioning of the mainstream hypocrisy of Christianity can be seen through his friendship with Queequeg, a savage pagan, whom he develops a close relationship with and respect for his hybrid form of spirituality and religion.  Although he questions the morality of those who call themselves Christians (such as Captain Bildad), Ishmael does not abandon the religious virtues he was taught; those of compassion to others, ethics and a sense of righteousness.  Further reading of Moby-Dick will reveal the full extent and ways in which our narrator embodies the layered references of his name.  Perhaps by choosing this name, Melville hints at the unstable role Ishmael may hold in this small society on the ship.  As Ishmael questions the veracity of those proclaimed Christian, he may also question the authority of Captain Ahab and jeopardize his place in the journey.

(Melville, Herman. Moby-Dick. Signet Classic: NY, 1998.)