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.

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.

In the middle few hundred pages of Moby Dick, we finally get to experience catching and cutting up the Pequod’s first whale.  Ishamael takes a lot of time explaining to the reader exactly what must happen to properly complete this task.  Some parts of this appear very scientific, while others are open to variation.  Throughout the entire process, there is the danger of deadly accident.  While Ishmael seems to want to relate the science of catching and harvesting a sperm whale properly, he also lets the reader in on instances when the science fails and mistakes happen.

Ishmael himself sees a way to improve the way a whale is harpooned when he suggests that the boatheader and the harpooner do not switch places in the boat:

Now, I care not who maintains the contrary, but all this is both foolish and unnecessary.  The headsman should stay in the bows from first to last; he should both dart the harpoon and the lance, and no rowing what whatever should be expected of him, except under circumstances obvious to any fisherman (280).

Ishmael has come to this conclusion through his experience with whaling and shows that the discipline can still be improved.

Other aspects, however, are very exact.  Ishmael describes the precision needed to behead the sperm whale.  He says that it is “a scientific anatomical feat, upon which experienced surgeons very much pride themselves, and not without reason” (300-301).  Other parts of cutting up and separating the various parts of the whale have very strict procedures, and yet Ishamael will still tell us when the Pequod does something slightly different, as when the monkey rope attached to Queequeg is attached directly to him as well.

Great risk is always present even when everyone is following all the rules.  Tashtego very unexpectedly falls into the whale while removing sperm and causes the head to fall into the water.  These events contrasted with the scientific mood Melville seems to be striving for in the surrounding chapters when he describes the physical aspects of the sperm and right whales.  Whaling therefore appears much more up to chance.  Sharks may come and eat the entire whale while it is tied to the boat over night, or they may not.  Queequeg may get hit with a dart meant for a shark while he sits on the whale’s back, or he may not.  I think that both the specific steps involved in whaling and the constant danger of the unexpected contribute to why Ishmael, and therefore Melville, are so obsessed with the activity.  Both the steps and the dangers are portrayed prominently in these chapters.

Most of Melville’s novel deals with aspects of whaling — life on a whaling ship, specific details of how to catch, dissect, even cook a whale. This group’s posts will consider passages or events in the novel that refer specifically to the details of whaling, and what those details might reveal to the reader about larger themes in the novel.