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đŸŽ€001 Moby Full Text+notes

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full-book moby-dick Melville annotated

Aaron’s classic response to the first four chapters, “I don’t know why people say this book is dry—it’s ALL ABOUT WATER!”

**The Map of the Pequod’s Journey**

CHAPTER 1. Loomings.

Call me Ishmael.1 Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen2 and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos3 get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword;4 I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes,5 belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery,6 where that noble mole7 is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip8, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?— Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles;9 some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster—tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?

But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?

Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor.10 Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco.11 What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd’s head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd’s eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee,12 upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove?13 Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus,14 who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick—grow quarrelsome—don’t sleep of nights—do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;—no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt,15 do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever.16 It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,—though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board—yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;—though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bake-houses the pyramids.

No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast,17 plumb down into the forecastle,18 aloft there to the royal mast-head.19 True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar,20 like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one’s sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes.21 And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics22 to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round,23 and all hands should rub each other’s shoulder-blades, and be content.

Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves24 entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck.25 For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim),2627 so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates,28 who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:

“Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States. “WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL. “BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN.”29

Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces—though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances,30 I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment.31

Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster32 roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds,33 helped to sway me to my wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements; but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.34 Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with it—would they let me—since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all the inmates of the place one lodges in. {{HA!}}

By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.

==Have notes to add? Email me heather@craftlit.com or call 1-206-350-1642 or use speakpipe.com/craftlit.==

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FOOTNOTES

Footnotes

  1. Using the name Ishmael tells us a lot about our narrator before we begin. Origin: The biblical story of Abraham tells us that his wife, Sarah, couldn’t have a child. Instead he has a child with his bondservant, Hagar—one of the few non-main character women who are named in the Bible. That child is Ishmael. As the oldest, he should inherit everything from Abraham. But suddenly Sarah is blessed with a child, Isaac, and Ishmael and Hagar are summarily dismissed, making Ishamel the OG outcast. ↩

  2. Spleen-temper / ill-humor + melancholy or low spirits ↩

  3. hypos - hypochondria ↩

  4. Cato - Philosopher famous for Stoic, defender of the Roman Republic (vs J CĂŠsar) ↩

  5. Like Whitman but this is from Washington Irving’s Knickerbocker(‘s?) History of New York - “the ancient city of Manhattoes” in “Sleepy Hollow”. ↩

  6. The Battery, get history of the use of landfill and cobblestone ballast ↩

  7. noble mole- ↩

  8. Go from a point (or hook) on the East River - near current Williamsburg Bridge, round the Battery,, and north on Whitehall along the Hudson River — ↩

  9. Spiles - Big wooden stakes on edge of wharf ↩

  10. metaphysical professor - someone who does Divining ↩

  11. Valley of the Saco - Saco River - southern Maine into NH then the Ocean ↩

  12. poor poet of Tennessee - 1850s version of Florida Man / Everyman ↩

  13. Poseidon is Zeus/Jove’s brother ↩

  14. Narcissus - Greek youth condemned to pine away for love of his own reflection in a spring until he died and for his beauty, was transformed into the flower ↩

  15. though I am something of a salt - Salt = longtime sailor ↩

  16. the “dishonorableness” again sounds like Whitman! ↩

  17. Before the Mast - be a common sailor, Foremast (fore) front of ship and where ordinary seamen lived, in the (see below) - officers/captains lived AFT in more comfortable quarters, so “before the mast” really meant you lived and worked in the front of the ship - PERIOD ↩

  18. forecastle - pronounced fo’c’sle ↩

  19. royal mast-head - A royal mast-head is the highest part of a square-rigged sailing ship’s mast, specifically: ‱ It’s above the topgallant mast, which itself is above the main mast. ‱ The royal yard (from which a square sail is set) is mounted on the royal mast. ‱ Not all ships had royals—only larger or faster vessels, like clippers and warships. The highest accessible point a sailor might climb during watch or duty—perched hundreds of feet above the deck, often alone, and exposed to all weather. 035 - The Mast Head ↩

  20. spar - Definition (Nautical): A spar is a long, round piece of wood or metal used on a ship to support sails, rigging, or flags. Common types of spars: ‱ Masts – the vertical poles rising from the deck.‱ Yards – horizontal spars from which square sails are hung. ‱ Booms – horizontal spars at the bottom of fore-and-aft sails (like on a sloop or schooner). ‱ Gaffs – diagonal spars used to support the top of certain sails. ‱ Bowsprit – a spar that sticks out from the front (prow) of the ship. Etymology:From Old English spĂŠr, meaning “pole” or “beam.” ↩

  21. Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes - Hardicanutes were Doominant in NY VA and 11th C Denmark & England (per annotations) Compiled randomly: The Van Rensselaers One of the oldest and wealthiest Dutch colonial families in New York.

    • The Van Rensselaers controlled the massive Rensselaerswyck estate, a vast feudal landholding under the Dutch patroon system.
      • Mentioning them evokes American aristocracy, old money, and inherited privilege.
    • Randolphs‱ A prominent Virginia family dating back to colonial times.‱ Related to Thomas Jefferson (his mother was a Randolph).
      • ‱ Often invoked as exemplars of Southern gentry, with deep political and landowning roots.Hardicanutes‱ A playful, somewhat archaic reference.
    • Harthacnut (or Hardicanute) was a Danish king of England in the early 11th century, son of King Canute (of tide-commanding fame).
      • ‱ The name adds a quasi-mythic, medieval nobility to the list—part parody, part high-literary flourish
    ↩

  22. a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics - need to be a stoic to bear the transition of schoolmaster (respected - unless Ichabod) to being told what to do all the time (a before-the-mast sailor)- CHALLENGE ACCEPTED video from Aaron where the YouTubers attempt to do some 17th C sailing. ↩

  23. Again, Whitman and his Yop! - so the universal thump is passed round“ everyone thumps on the ppl under them ↩

  24. two orchard thieves - Adam and Eve ↩

  25. fore-castle deck - pronounced “folk-sall” ↩

  26. head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim) —Pythagorean maxim – The phrase “don’t eat beans” comes from ancient Pythagorean teachings. Though its exact meaning is debated, Melville clearly uses it here to make a joke about bodily functions and naval hierarchy. On sailing ships, the wind flows from front to back—so officers on the quarterdeck breathe whatever the sailors on the forecastle emit. Melville folds a fart joke into a philosophical allusion—classic Moby-Dick. (SEE NOTE 27) ↩

  27. Elaboration on the Pythagorean Maxim: “Pythagorean maxim” — Don’t Eat Beans? Yes, in ancient sources, one of the more enigmatic rules attributed to Pythagoras and his followers was: “Abstain from beans.” Interpretations vary wildly: ‱ Literal: Avoid eating beans because they cause flatulence—which would be especially relevant on a ship, where breezes travel from bow (forecastle) to stern (quarterdeck), meaning officers are downwind of common sailors. ‱ This is clearly the joke Melville is making. ‱ Mystical: Some Pythagoreans believed beans were connected to the soul or reincarnation, possibly because bean plants were thought to contain human life-force or that beans were somehow porous to souls. ‱ Political: In some Greek city-states, votes were cast with black or white beans—so abstaining from beans could mean abstaining from politics. ‱ Medical: Some ancient thinkers thought beans were “unclean” or caused disturbing dreams. âž» Melville’s Use of the Joke: “
head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim)” —He’s saying: ‱ Normally, you’re upwind of your own trouble. ‱ But on a ship, wind flows back from the sailors to the officers. ‱ So if a sailor violates the bean-abstaining rule, it’s the Commodore on the quarterdeck who suffers! —Translation— If you eat beans, the Commodore’s gonna know. ↩

  28. Fates = Goddesses who control human destiny and life. Clotho spins the thread of life, Lachesis determines its length and Atropos cuts it off. ↩

  29. “Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States. “WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL. “BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN.” - LOOK UP Presidency, look up WHAT Battle in Afghanistan B/c NOTHING CHANGES - also the “bill” would be like a theater bill or a broadsheet of news
Ishmael traveling was on the roster, but a little thing for the world compared to the big things in the world. —1848 PRES ELECT WAS CONTESTED - Zachary Taylor (Whig) defeated Lewis Cass (Democrat) at Martin Van Buren (Free Soil??!) - Taylor took office March 1849 (lots of turmoil with post-Mex-Am war additions to states mostly non-slave) AFGHANISTAN - the first Anglo-Afghan war (1839-1842) British, disaster, upppet ruler in Kabul FAILED, only ONE BRITISH SURVIVOR (Dr William Bryson) reached Jalalabad. REMEMBER Melville was Anti-Colonial. Here’s the song: The Merry Minuet, sung by the Kingston Trio ↩

  30. “Yet, now that I recall all the circumstances
” - he’s telling us from Memory - not as it happens ↩

  31. Was he Calvinist? Predestination? YES Duch Reformed, mom Maria Gansevoort was DEVOUTLY Calvinist (original Sin, Depravity, Predestination, God’s absolute sovereignty) “Besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment” where Melville wrestled with divine silence and cosmic purpose, Hawthorne was preoccupied with shame, secrecy, and spiritual inheritance. ↩

  32. TRUST ME that this “portentous and mysterious monster” does NOT mean that Melville believes the whales are monsters any more than he thinks Pacific Islanders are actual savages. He gets poetic, hyperbolic - Porto-Whitmanian - in his BIG use of BIG FEELS in his writing ↩

  33. Patagonia=Argentina “with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds” ↩

  34. see note 33 “barbarous coasts” isn’t barbarous to Melville ↩

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