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.

“The drama’s done. Why then here does any one step forth? – Because one did survive the wreck” (509).

Ishmael remains alive at the end of the wreck, presumably the only means through which this text is produced. As everyone else is killed on way or another by Moby Dick, Ishmael is “dropped astern,” where he spends the rest of the battle “floating on the margin of the ensuing scene” but, of course, “in full sight of it” (509). This last picture, Ishmael sort of passively experiencing everything that happens on the ship, is a good manner in which to examine the novel. Ishmael’s rational for whaling is not that of Ahab’s, who finds an even more compelling reason to continue his life’s obsession, or any of the mates, also whaling lifers, or that of the harpooneers; he goes as a “substitute for the pistol and ball” (1). He ruminates on his own melancholic existence while aboard the boat, and it seems like he probably spends a lot of time alone. However, sine this novel is his ‘story,’ he must be privy to situations and conversations in which he does not take part and for which he cannot seem to be in the same place. I get this sense of Ishmael sort of lurking around, a non-offensive type with whom the other men on the ship are unconcerned about him overhearing what they say. However, Ishmael senses a story building beyond the usual whaling enterprise, and a set of complex characters whose fate centers on the decisions of a brutal antagonist. Ishmael seems to have very few direct conversations with any of his superiors, yet his knowledge of them seems based on having spent much personal time with them. He neglects to mention the names of almost anyone else aboard- all we have is Ahab, the mates, the harpooneers, the mysterious Fedallah, Pip, and a random name dropped here and there; this seems odd in such a long narrative in which these other men are constantly present. It is almost as if Ishmael senses who will be the key players in the story, and in the interest of producing a more gripping narrative, he gives the men on the ship a treatment not even close to the minutely descriptive one he gives the whale. As the story progresses, Ishmael is relatively mute on his feelings about chasing Moby Dick, instead locating the Ahab-Starbuck conflict drama play out without trying to influence the reader too much. He wants them to find Moby Dick, for the sake of the story.

I was reading a comment in which someone said they would like to see Johnny Depp as Ishmael in an imagined film version, the only concern being that his dynamism would steal the screen. I agree- Ishmael would need to better be able to disappear into the background, as he does so often in the novel. He certainly spends all of his time thinking, and whether or not he does the research for the more ‘informational’ portions of his narrative on the ship or after reaching shore, we get the sense that he is eternally plotting how this work will look- he certainly is smart enough to know that this chase will end in disaster, and has made himself passive enough to escape the literal need for his death.

Besides having a completely different subject, I found that Bartleby the Scrivener also differed from Moby Dick in its narration style.  Ishmael is very present at the beginning of Moby Dick, but his voice becomes increasingly disembodied as the novel continues.  The unnamed lawyer narrator remains present throughout Bartleby, and readers follow him through all his various interactions with other characters.

Ishmael does not interact much with other characters after he arrives on the Pequod.  While his voice continues to inform the reader of what is happening on the ship, we rarely get an actual glimpse of him.  He appears briefly in such chapters as The Monkey-Rope and A Squeeze of the Hand.  Yet he still does not enter into dialogue with anyone aboard the ship.  The most dialogue that Ishmael engages in during the part of the book that he is on the ship happens when he is having a flash forward to later describing the Town-Ho’s story to friends in Lima.  Ishmael as a body aboard the ship seems to disappear from the story entirely until the Epilogue.  He does not even alert the reader that he was one of the men on Ahab’s boat until after the ship has sunk.

The narrator of Bartleby has conversations with numerous other people in the text, and often uses the pronoun “I” to describe his personal thoughts and feelings.  His constant flow of opinions and theories regarding Bartleby’s condition contrasts sharply with the reader’s lack of insight into Bartleby’s mind.

I enjoyed reading a piece by Melville where the narrator remained consistent for the duration of the plot.  The narrator was as reliable as Bartleby was unreliable as an employee.

Having finished Moby-Dick, I am left to wonder, why is Ishamel the lone survivor? What qualities or characteristics does he possess that have enabled him to escape death and why has no one else also survived? As Professor Friedman discussed in class, writing the novel is Ishmael’s way of coming to terms with his near encounter with death, and his consequential survival. Retelling his journey is his attempt at understanding what happened to him and what this means for him moving forward. For us as readers, the answers to these questions involves examining the various characters Melville employed in his novel to explore human nature.

Ahab, the maniacal captain who challenges fate and destiny and is obsessive in his intent to destroy Moby is unable to achieve his goal, and is killed by the very object he uses to try and kill the whale. Melville suggests that trying to cheat, or deceive one’s destiny will not end well. Actively putting oneself above a higher authority, whether God, or merely believing one is superior to external forces, will only result in one realizing the various powers that affect one’s existence.

As a contrast to Ahab, the cautious, worrisome first-mate, Starbuck seems resigned to what he supposes is his inevitable death by Ahab’s fool-hardy quest. His “doomsday” attitude prevents him in a way from truly living and enjoying life. Through this character Melville appears to imply that simply moving through the motions of day-to-day activities is not a way to live. There is a difference between presenting oneself as superior to fate and submitting to an inevitable death.

Stubb and Flask use various forms of intoxication to float through life in a false sense of reality. While providing comic relief, Melville uses these two mates to show the futility of dulling the senses in attempts to escape the details of life.

Ishmael, a low-ranking sailor is “chosen” to be the single survivor of the battle between man and whale, and the ensuing shipwreck. He begins his voyage on the Pequod as an escape from the restriction and limitation of society and the depression he feels. Seeking solace and freedom as a means to alleviate his melancholy mood, Ishmael readily takes this chance to meditate on his thoughts, and ponder and philosophize out on the open sea. Starting his journey in a despondent state of mind, the wide, infinite horizon offers him a chance to reflect on himself and also to observe the sailors around him. This introspective nature serves him well, as Melville seems to suggest that thinking and intellectualizing one’s thoughts and emotions are significant traits in living to one’s full potential. His near death experience with Moby-Dick and resulting survival represents a sort of rebirth. Ishmael is adrift in the sea, and then saved by the Rachel, calling to mind a religious sort of revival and awakening, giving him the chance to start life anew, with all the knowledge he’s gained from his fellow sailors and life at sea.

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.

In a book teeming with allusions- the Biblical multitude, those ranging across the literary canon, the scientific, and those with philosophical undertones, chapter 82, “The Honor and Glory of Whaling,” stands out as being less about allusion (and it’s not, since the characters and events are confronted directly) and more concerned with the validation of whaling in showcasing the numerous important (and powerful) historical figures who have been associated with the act. As opposed to many of the middle chapters, in which an explanation is followed by Ishmael’s ruminations on its philosophical meaning, he states outright:

“The more I dive into this matter of whaling, and push my researches up to the very springhead of it, so much the more am I impressed with its great honorableness and antiquity; and especially when I find so many great demi-gods and heroes, prophets of all sorts, who one way or other have shed distinction upon it, I am transported with the reflection that I myself belong, though by subordinately, to so emblazoned a fraternity” (324).

In the ensuing examples, Ishmael seeks not only to parade those mythic figures, but to also validate his own labor as an important enterprise. He makes specific reference to feats of whaling, like Perseus’ experience with the Leviathan, “an admirable artistic exploit, rarely achieved by the best harpooneers of the present day; inasmuch as this Leviathan was slain at the very first dart” (324). He compares whaling to artistry; even earlier he refers to the harpoon from stubs boat that kills a whale as “the magical line” (257). The act of whaling in itself, as Ishmael conveys in reciting these stories, is an almost supernatural act, the killing of an unkillable Leviathan by humans with human instruments, a task that should, by likelihood, be restricted to immortals and superhumans. Compare this to many of Ishmael’s earlier ruminations on his place in the labor hierarchy, serving under Ahab and the mates. Now, he is in the loftier position of being subordinate to gods and superhumans. His exploration of the powerful and famous associated with whaling is part of his book-long rumination on whaling as a concept- the legitimacy of whaling as an enterprise. He (and Melville) obviously have enormous respect for whales, but also clearly admire their historical and literary forbears. Melville/Ishmael never goes as far as to incriminate whaling or whalers in any negative pursuit, but it is clear that we should not necessarily take his commendations at face value.

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 58 (“Brit”), Ishmael compares the land and the sea, which are then employed as metaphors on the nature of man. He begins the chapter with a discussion of brit, a “minute, yellow substance” the right whale feeds upon. Through the comparison of animals in the sea (such as the right whale) and those on land (such as the elephant), Ishmael segues into a more generalized discussion of the two masses. While our narrator believes many people generalize the sea and land to be made up of much the same elements, he points out that the “mortal disasters” of the sea are more quickly “lost” than the ones on land.

…to the crack of doom, the sea will insult and murder him, and pulverize the stateliest, stiffest frigate he can make; nevertheless, by the continual repetition of these very impressions, man has lost that sense of the full awfulness of the sea which aboriginally belongs to it” (Melville 267).

To hear of men being swallowed by the sea, but never actually seeing it take place (or of what lies below the surface causing it), leads men to dismiss the overwhelming depth Ishmael believes the ocean possesses. It is that very lack of visibility—only seeing the surface—that both inspires fear and, at the same time, a blank slate for Ishmael to interpret its depths as he sees fit. On land, man’s inherent ability to see all of his surroundings means the majority of the mental work (of interpreting the world) is already done for him. For Ishmael, life on land forces his mind within itself (because he cannot project his own thoughts onto an already concrete society), and thus he comes close to madness; in going to sea, he’s looking to free his mind and allow his thoughts to flow uninhibited.
In relation to the human soul itself, Melville understands the ocean as surrounding the soul, and thus its true nature is nearly impossible to decode. And that there exists within an “insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy,” but it cannot be discerned among the depths.  And so our purest form of self is “encompassed by all the horrors of a half known life” (268). It is that search for self (the Tahitian island) that Ishmael has embarked upon, but he warns against anyone else ever pushing off, as he thinks its unlikely you’ll ever find meaning before “the masterless ocean overruns the globe” (267).

Melville, Herman. Moby Dick. New York: Signet Classic, 1998.

In the assigned reading, Ishmael and the narrator slowly zoom in on the whale. The reader enjoys a holistic picture to begin. Chapter 32 is all about Cetology, which takes a detached, scientific and impersonal view of the whale. Ishmael leaves his discussion of Cetology unfinished: “even as the great Cathedral of Cologne was left, with the crane still standing upon the top of the uncompleted tower.” (128) He gives some excuse about great things being left unfinished such as architectural masterpieces. This rang somewhat sarcastic to me though, as his primitive treatment of whale taxonomy (despite the existence of the Linnaean system) could hardly be compared to the likes of the Sagrada Familia.

In chapters 55 and 56, Ishmael zooms in from the scientific to a more feelings-oriented perspective on whale understanding. He discusses first the bad pictures of whales and then “of the less erroneous pictures of whales, and the true pictures of whaling scenes.” (241) Chapter 57 is all about “whales in paint; in teeth; in wood; in sheet iron; in stone; in mountains; in stars.” (244)

In his scientific and philosophical study of the whale, Ishmael is not content with visual descriptions alone. Chapter 65 is dedicated to “the whale as a dish.” (269)

Just a few pages later, Ishmael ponders “what and where is the skin of the whale?” (274) In chapter 68, the crew is cutting open a whale and Ishmael takes to intense observation. He looks at the “infinitely thin, isinglass substance, which, I admit, invests the entire body of the whale,” (275) and calls this “the skin of the skin,” referring to the blubber as the primary layer of skin. This could potentially be a metaphor for the fact that despite people (such as sailors on the Pequod) claiming and appearing to have thick skin, they all have a sensitive layer (skin of the skin), which may be more exposed than they think.

Zooming in further, Ishmael observes the sperm whale’s head in chapter 74 and the head of a right whale in 75. This is where the subtle anthropomorphism becomes far more overt. About the sperm whale, Ishmael makes comments like, “there is more character in the Sperm Whale’s head,” (295) and “pepper and salt color of his head at the summit, giving token of advanced age and large experience.” (295) He even asks, after pondering the distance between the sperm whale’s eyes, “is his brain so much more comprehensive, combining, and subtle than man’s, that he can at the same moment of time attentively examine two distinct prospects, one on one side of him, and the other in an exactly opposite direction?” (297) His musings become even more philosophical and anthropomorphic by the end of chapter 75. For instance:

“Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale’s there? It is the same he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. But mark the other head’s expression. See that amazing lower lip, pressed by accident against the vessel’s side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death? This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years.” (301)

As Ishmael and the narrator move from the scientific to the artistic and culinary and eventually consider the body and head of the whale, the commentary becomes increasingly human-related and philosophical. The flow from one of these chapters mentioned above to the next feels punctuated and dramatic. One possible interpretation is that the sailors and man itself is not so different from what it hunts. This could either be a means to diminish the significance of man or to elevate the status of whales, which given Melville’s obsessions and the respect that most of the sailors have for nature and Moby Dick, seems the more likely alternative.

Melville, Herman. Moby Dick. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2008.

Melville courageously and yet tactfully utilizes the adventures of Ishmael to insert his own commentary regarding issues surrounding race in the 19^th century. He highlights common racial divides, scrutinizes widely accepted racial prejudices of the time, and proposes a renewed meaning of racial coexistence. However, Melville’s seemingly modern perception of race doesn’t fully escape the grasp of numerous race related social constructions.

Within the first 21 chapters of Moby Dick, Melville focuses his racial commentary around the budding friendship between Ishmael and his ‘peddler of heads’ bedfellow, Queequeg. A passage on page 48 from the chapter ‘A Bosom Friend’ in which Ishmael consciously commits to befriending Queequeg, highlights Ishmael’s ironic acceptance and to a certain extent curious appraisal of Queequeg as a racially dissimilar friend.

“Savage though he was, and hideously marred about the face—at least to my taste—his countenance yet had a something in it which was by no means disagreeable. You cannot hide the soul. Through all his unearthly tattooings, I thought I saw the traces of a simple honest heart…”

This passage exemplifies the fact that Melville’s notion of racial serenity doesn’t come without burdensome obstacles. In this passage Ishmael recognizes Queequeg as something beyond the color of his skin. He is able to identify ‘traces of a simple honest heart’ among other commendable traits. However, Ishmael persistently uses prejudicial labels such as ‘savage’, ‘unearthly’, and ‘pagan’ that prevent him from leveling with Queequeg as a human being. It is in this way that Melville conveys a conflicted message in terms of promoting racial equality.

The most interesting component of this passage is the surprising comparison Ishmael makes between Queequeg and George Washington.

“…but certain it was his head was phrenologically an excellent one. It may seem ridiculous, but it reminded me of General Washington’s head, as seen in the popular busts of him. It had the same long regularly graded retreating slope from above the brows, which were likewise very projecting, like two long promontories thickly wooded on top. Queequeg was George Washington cannibalistically developed.”

As a reader, the reference to George Washington came as a surprise to me. I didn’t expect Ishmael to be willing to liken a ‘savage’ such as Queequeg to a man of such great historical and symbolic importance. However, this comparison remains confined to a physical similarity and not one that functions to elevate Queequeg to George Washington’s level of fame or respect. Additionally, Melville allows Ishmael to revert to his prejudicial tendencies by using the term ‘cannibalistically developed’, whatever that means, to define Queequeg.

As the book progresses and Ishmael and Queequeg’s friendship blossoms it will be interesting to see if Ishmael will be influenced to shed his seemingly natural racial discriminations and fully embrace Queequeg as a companion at sea.

Works Cited

Melville, Herman. Moby Dick. New York: Signet Classic, 1998.