Lost In Thoughts All Alone

Romanticism has been a key theme and subject within American classics for roughly two-hundred years now. As a literary, artistic, and intellectual movement, it promotes the basis of exploring human thoughts on nature, emotion, individualism, and the depths of the imagination. This movement had occurred as a response to the Age of Enlightenment, alongside mass industrialization. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick is one key staple within the American literary canon, and is an example that explores a potentially darker side to Romanticism through his characters upon the Pequod, most notably the narrator Ishmael. Chapter 35 has Ishmael diving into the experience of being upon the Mast Head, and the way it impacts sailors. With the use of “you” and intense imagery, Ishmael describes his perspective on taking a high position above the sea atop the Pequod. As the audience designated narrator of the novel, his thought process attacks his own character and is highly philosophical. Melville here is documenting the romantic movement through Ishmael as a way to demonstrate humanity’s innate pull towards it.

Ishmael as our narrator describes, “There you stand, a hundred feet above the silent decks, striding along the deep, as if the masts were gigantic stilts, while beneath you and between your legs, as it were, swim the hugest monsters of the sea, even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous colossus at old Rhodes. There you stand lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor.” (169) Not only does this promote the image of imagining ourself upon the ship alongside him, but the idle yet active task on being above the mast head sounds just as boring as the languor Ishmael mentions. It is reflective of how romanticism is viewed, and how natural it comes to Ishmael. Melville shows how merely being surrounded by nature in and on its own drags this pensive and provocative emotion out of the narrator. He himself states how he is not focused on his job of spotting whales, breaking a bit of a fourth wall to describe how he is in the midst of daydreaming to give the readers a means of envisioning how all encompassing the sea is. There is a calm that lulls him, the “languor” and the rocking sensation of the ship take over his rational senses to scout for Moby-Dick.  

Ishmael chooses to over complicate how he falls into this philosophical bout of romantic feelings. Humanizing and characterizing the inanimate objects around him, such as the Pequod itself, is a means for Ishmael to connect to a larger perspective. The ship is mostly subject to this phenomenon, as it is the only thing that keeps Ishmael relatively grounded and terrestrial on a sea that refuses to remain the same. He has to be attached to what keeps him afloat, even saying how “The tranced ship indolently rolls…” (169) The ship has become tranced and hypnotized by the ocean, not Ishmael until he climbs up for his shift upon the mast-head. Connecting to the Pequod drags him into his own thoughts. This vast ocean of “the hugest monsters of the sea,” (169) this large blue mystery that houses the very thing that will pay him for his trouble, it is all he can see or talk about within this chapter dedicated solely to the mast-head. Melville here implies within this passage that Ishmael is being pushed into a state of reflection, rather than specifically choosing to reach into the depths of his mind on his own. It is indicative of a darker side to romanticism, but nonetheless does it break down Ishmael’s defenses on the job as he is “resolved into languor.” (169)

Melville’s language throughout Moby Dick holds purpose in the chapter it serves. Ishmael’s words within chapter 35 read as deeply rooted in mythology itself, “even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous colossus at old Rhodes…” (169) This is a common trend within romanticism, in which the movement utilizes mythology to explore the wonders of the imagination. Working alongside the metaphor of “as if the masts were gigantic stilts…” (169) readers connect the idea of being a colossus, a tall statue that matches, or even surpasses the height of the mast-head Ishmael stands upon. While the statue itself no longer stands in its original location thanks to an earthquake, it puts readers into picturing sailing under its massive size. Even if the mast-head proves to be a high location in which someone is able to look down at the sea as nothing but a spectator, the position on the Pequod lulls the individual to view the sea in a romantic lens. Just as the colossus at old Rhodes stares off at the same scene everyday, Ishmael similarly can only see the grand ocean. 

Addressing the readers, “There you stand lost in the infinite series of the sea…” (169) is an honest viewpoint to how romanticism focuses on individualism as well. Readers are capable of being solitary within the situation presented upon the Pequod. While being in Ishmael’s shoes, there is a dreadful and dull sense of loneliness atop the mast-head. Even if he is not necessarily alone on the ship, he is expressing the individual thought that criticizes his capability to do his job properly. An individual perspective allows for both imperfection and flaws, something wholly human while in the expanse of nature. 

With the romantic movement having been a response and product of fast industrialization, it is no surprise that it was killing whaling as a business. Even though whaling had been considered a first within American trade, the introduction of new fuel sources had begun to make it all obsolete. Industrialization itself had drawn people away from nature, away from the ocean, away and off of the Pequod in the search for Moby-Dick. Romanticism puts a clear yet muddled focus upon the natural world, emotion winning over reason. As the novel’s narrator, Ishmael himself is a flawed yet observant person. “The Mast-Head” as a chapter demonstrates the lack of excitement for any sailor who would find himself paralyzingly high. Using religious, mythological, and natural allegories, Ishmael is Melville’s direct conduit into what readers can analyze as romanticism. Moreover, the crew of the Pequod eventually show a much darker side of the movement. Whether or not it is a central key theme to Moby Dick, it is unmistakably shown through the language describing the sea.

Midterm Essay – Restoration and Reconciliation found on the Ocean


(Spoilers ahead for the end of the novel! I have read it before, so I know how it ends.) 


When reading through Moby Dick these past few weeks, the following quote stood out not only to me, but to many of my classmates as well, and that’s for a good reason. In Chapter 35, The Mast-Head, Melville writes, “There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime uneventfulness invests you . . . “ (pg. 169). This passage immediately caught my attention because of how calm and dreamlike it feels. It evokes a sense of peace and surrender, which contrasts sharply with the restless energy Ishmael displays at the start of the novel. 

Ishmael’s description of the calm, dreamlike sea reveals his emerging sense of peace and self-acceptance, contrasting his earlier depression while on land. Through this scene, Melville illustrates how the ocean serves as a place of restoration and reconciliation for Ishmael, showing the sea’s power to restore balance and quiet inner turmoil.

This moment of “languor” gains significance when read against Ishmael’s earlier restlessness, highlighting the sea’s power to still what once was chaotic within him. In particular, the growth he has had when it comes to his mental health. The following quote, from Chapter 1, extremely contrasts with the one from Chapter 35. “I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball”(pg. 1).  Essentially, the sea is an alternative to suicide for Ishmael.

By the time we reach Chapter 35, however, there’s a noticeable change in tone. The sea, once a vast and potentially threatening force, now acts as healing for Ishmael. The stillness of the water and the gentle rhythm of the waves mirror an inner calm that he tends to find while away at sea- and that’s going to be interrupted very soon by Ahab. In particular, the phrase “everything resolves you into languor” suggests a sort of peaceful surrender. A letting go of tension and restlessness that he feels while on land. It feels like he’s finally learning to be at ease with himself and his surroundings.

I would argue that this passage represents Ishmael emerging from his depression through his time spent at sea. The ocean becomes a space of restoration and reconciliation for him, allowing him to detach from the pressures and anxieties of life on land. This moment feels like a rare glimpse of tranquility, a moment where Ishmael’s soul seems to align with the rhythm of the world around him as he describes life at sea to the reader.

  Melville’s opening image of being “lost on the infinite series of the sea” evokes both physical vastness and psychological release, dissolving Ishmael’s boundaries of self. “infinite series” has mathematical and philosophical connotations that suggest endless continuity, emphasizing the sea’s rhythm. The phrase positions Ishmael between individuality and dissolution: an identity expanded by losing its limits, like the ocean, which appears to be endless from his point of view. And consider the tone. It’s gentle, almost reverent rather than fearful. While the ocean, and what lies within, is life-threatening, because Ishmael and sailors in general spent so much time looking out at the “infinite series of the sea”, they have plenty of time to not reflect internally. Also, Melville’s rhythmic phrasing, such as long vowels and soft consonants, imitates the waves and motion of the ocean. While there are exceptions, most days spent at sea are boring and uneventful. This seemingly bland image marks the first step of transformation in Ishmael, and in the reader. His ego and mind loosen into something infinite and cyclical, just like the ocean itself.

Also,  Melville’s imagery of the “trance ship” and “drowsy trade winds” extends the hypnotic atmosphere, creating a world governed by rhythm rather than will. This can specifically be seen through Melville’s use of adjectives such as “tranced,” “indolent,” and “drowsy”. Each suggests stillness through motion slowed to an almost meditative pace. The long vowels require repetition of soft consonants such as “r,” “w,” and “l”. Each of these imitates the rocking motion of the ship, just as the opening phrasing does. Additionally, Melville’s use of semi-colons creates pauses that mimic breathing or waves. Ultimately, the rhythm of these word choices and phrasing creates a beautiful pacing and tone that imitates the environment in which the book is set – the ocean. Melville also uses “tranced” to imply consciousness suspended between waking and dreaming. It is relaxed, unlike the outside world, which causes Ishmael to have depression. The boring yet beautiful repetitiveness of the ocean allows Ishmael to escape from his depression and anxiety caused by the constant chaos of land life. Ishmael going out to sea is a titular example of escapism. Melville ends up rendering the sea not as chaotic as the land, but as harmoniously self-sustaining, a world in which the problems of the outside world melt away.

Even the final line, “everything resolves you into languor,” captures the culmination of Ishmael’s surrender: an erasure of tension that borders on spiritual healing. For example, Melville’s use of “resolves” suggests both musical harmony and an emotional release, or a resolution of dissonance Ishmael was feeling at the beginning of the novel. Also, within this phrase he uses “you”, using second person to bring the reader into the scene, and helping them imagine what it was like to spend time away at sea, and specifically on the mast head. It also expands on the informational tone of the book, teaching the reader what it was like to be a whaler in the 19th century. On the other hand, the word choice of “languor” also helps bring across this point. Standing at the mast head doesn’t cause boredom or laziness but brings about a tranquil ease, a peace born from acceptance of the reality sailors were in, and the isolation they had away from the outside world. Also, the use of the phrase “everything resolves you”, implies passivity. Ishmael, and the reader, through a second person pov, yields to the  forces beyond himself, to the ocean waves and the creatures within. 

Also, the use of “sublime endlessness” once again captures both the beauty and terror of the sea’s vastness. The word sublime suggests something awe-inspiring yet overwhelming: a scale beyond human comprehension. By pairing it with “endlessness,” Melville evokes a space that both humbles and liberates Ishmael and the reader. The ocean’s infinite expanse mirrors the boundlessness of the human mind when freed from society’s constraints, allowing Ishmael to lose himself and find peace in his insignificance within the vastness of the ocean. It transforms the sea into a spiritual landscape, one in which awe and fear coexist, and where Ishmael, and by proxy, the reader themself, can momentarily dissolve into something greater than themself.This passage also anticipates Ishmael’s survival at the end of the novel. When the Pequod sinks and all the crew are consumed by Ahab’s mania, Ishmael alone endures, floating upon Queequeg’s coffin in the vast, indifferent sea. 

What makes this passage even more profound is how it anticipates Ishmael’s survival at the end of the novel. When the Pequod sinks and all are consumed by Ahab’s mania, Ishmael alone endures—floating upon Queequeg’s coffin in the vast, indifferent sea. This moment on the masthead, then, is more than a brief pause before the storm; it is a foreshadowing of Ishmael’s eventual acceptance of his smallness within the universe. By learning early on to yield to the sea rather than fight against it, he develops the spiritual resilience that later allows him to survive. His earlier surrender to “languor” becomes a metaphorical rehearsal for the ultimate surrender he must perform at the novel’s end—trusting himself once more to the ocean’s rhythm. Thus, Melville transforms what seems like a quiet interlude into the emotional and philosophical core of Moby-Dick: a meditation on survival, humility, and the redemptive power of letting go.

This moment on the masthead, then, is more than a brief pause before the storm. It is a foreshadowing of Ishmael’s eventual acceptance of his smallness within the ocean, and, by proxy, the universe itself. By learning early on to yield to the sea rather than fight against it, he develops the resilience that later allows him to survive. His surrender to “languor” becomes a metaphorical rehearsal for the ultimate surrender he must perform at the novel’s end, once again trusting himself to the ocean’s rhythm. 

Thus, Melville transforms what seems like a quiet interlude into the emotional and philosophical core of Moby-Dick: a meditation on survival, humility, and the redemptive power of letting go. He distills the paradox of Moby-Dick: the ocean as both destroyer and healer, chaos and calm. Ultimately, we can see one of Melville’s many points within the novel through it –  how peace arises not through mastery or perfection, but through surrender to nature’s vast rhythm. His spiritual and reflective tone causes momentary transcendence before the novel’s later descent into Ahab’s obsession with the whale and the chaos that follows.

The Loneliness of the Pequod

In chapter 35, the ship can be seen as a space that is isolating which then results in a loss of self identity. Ishmael mentions that being on top of the mast-head, which is at the highest point of a ship where men stand watch, stands at “a hundred feet above the silent decks.” The mast-head is physically and mentally isolated from everyone, leaving the sailor no other choice but to be alone with his thoughts. The sailors go through a routine every couple hours to switch out the mast-head watchers. During these shifts, these men are by themselves for hours at a time, so there is no room for socializing with the other men and building relationships- a reality that heightens their sense of isolation. Ishmael goes on to say, “There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, which nothing ruffled but the waves” (Melville 169). The ocean may be captivating, but there is no one in sight and the stillness of the ocean and sound of the waves causes solitude and loneliness to creep up. Due to the solitude, it contributes to the loss of self identity. Ishmael says, “unconscious reverie is this absent-minded youth by the blending cadence of waves with thought, that at last he loses his identity” (Melville 172). The waves are hypnotizing young men, including Ishmael, and causing them to get lost in their own thoughts and ultimately leading to a detachment from reality so greatly that their identities also fade away. By being so absorbed in one’s thoughts can bring up existential questions, which overall leads to curiosity and uncertainty, and of course eventually leads to identity issues. Ishmael even brings up that he was a “sorry guard” due to the fact that he was left completely alone with his thoughts so high up. His self reflection showed how isolation has a great impact on the human psyche, showing that having your thoughts overpower you to the point where you detach from the physical world can lead to a loss of self.

The Mast Head – How Romantic

It’d probably be easy to imagine yourself on a ship, and maybe you have been on a ship at some point in your life, but I think Ishmael really makes the idle yet active task on being atop the mast-head a bit romantic. Romanticism encapsulates the idea of emotion over rationality, of being in the moment. There needs to be a sense of calm. Now, there probably won’t be any idea of calm when encountering a whale, or being so high up on the mast-head if you’re afraid of heights, but Ishmael describes the job as such:

“There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade wings blow; everything resolves you into languor.” (169)

Languor. Tiredness. The ship itself is tranced by the sea, hypnotized by the pattern that often causes sea-sickness for sailors present atop of the ship. Even so, Ishmael addresses the reader with many “yous” after this chunk of text I present, and it makes me wonder as to how we’re supposed to think about the idea of how tediousness this seems. He’s directly talking about a job that often causes sailors to be tired, but I think there’s this idea of a good and bad tired. On another note, there’s also something about standing up from a high place and looking down at the world as something to be conquered. Even though the vast majority of the sea is unknowable, there’s this idea of high and mightiness based on the position of the mast-head on the Pequod. Personifying and Romanticizing the ship is also something that helps ground these sailors, something terrestrial despite their job at sea. They have to be attached to the very thing that keeps them afloat.

Borrowed From The Sea: The Fragility of Life

At the end of Chapter 35, “The Mast-Head,” Ishmael closes his reflection on watchkeeping with a haunting sentence: “There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship: by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God.” (Melville 173) It’s a moment that collapses the sailor’s physical existence into a more spiritual chain of dependence. Melville ties the ship, sea, and God together in a rhythm that both sustains and erases individuality.

This line captures how Moby-Dick constantly blurs the line between the material and the metaphysical. Ishmael is speaking of the literal rocking of the ship, but the repetition of “by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God” transforms that motion into a meditation on creation as well as power. Life is described not as something self-contained and private but more as something borrowed, a gift moving through layers of being: from the divine to the ocean, from the ocean to the ship, and finally into Ishmael himself. The chain of dependence reveals human fragility. Our very existence rests on something vast, shifting, and very unknowable.

At the same time, there’s comfort in the image. The “gently rolling ship” gives an almost peacefulness to Ishmael’s isolation, and the sea becomes a living intermediary between man and God. He is never alone when he’s on the ocean. Yet Melville’s phrasing, such as “inscrutable tides,” reminds us that this connection is mysterious, even dangerous. The same tides that lend life also take it away. I think that Ishmael’s meditation at the masthead mirrors one of the novel’s central paradoxes: the ocean as both cradle and grave, revelation and oblivion.

I believe that this passage suggests that life at sea, and perhaps all human life, exists in a state of borrowed motion. The “rocking life” is not something Ishmael, or any of us, owns; it passes through, over, and around him like the tide. Melville leaves us with a vision of existence that is deeply dependent and deeply uncertain. A quiet acknowledgment in the novel that whatever life gives us, it is never fully ours to keep.

Chapter 35: A Life Dedicated to the Sea!

As I was reading through chapter 35, The Mast-Head, Melville begins to describe the sailors on the ship and how they were so dedicated to their life of sailing. I thought that this section was a great description of how the saliors must have been going through on thier ship!

“In one of those southern whaleman, on a long, three or four years voyage, as often happens, the sum of the various hours you spend at the masthead with amount to several entire months. And it is much to be deplored that the place to which you devote so considerable a portion of the whole term of your natural life should be so sadly destitute of anything approaching to a cozy inhabitiveness, or adapted to breed a comfortable localness of feeling, such as pertains to a bed, a hammock, a hearse, a century box, a pulpit, a coach or any other of those small and snug contrivances in which men temporarily isolate themselves,”

I can truly believe that the men on these vessels were extremely exhausted from being out in the ocean for so long. They most likely wanted to go back to their town which was dreary and plain similar to what they are currently experiencing on the ship. Traveling very far distances in a boat for months on end in many different ocean conditions must have been a lot on them. Melville even describes how sad the living quality was on the sailing boats as well. These boats must have been very dreary and not full of much color and felt more like a very plain house which they might have been used to. The fact that he describes the place where many men would spend a lot of their time as “destitute of anything approaching to a cozy inhabitiveness” says a lot of how the Pequod must have also been like. I can imagine that it was not very comfortable either and they might not have had their own personal space due to how many people were abord. These men might have grown depressed being on the ship for that long and being surrounded with something that they had to become comfortable in for so long.

Chapter 35, Ishmael addresses “You” once again

With the malleable way that Ishmael tells the story of Moby-Dick or The Whale, I’ve tried to pay particular attention to the moments when he shifts from addressing a general audience without pronouns to the moments when he addresses the specific “you.” Once again, he returned to this form of address, on the second paragraph of page 172:

“And let me in this place movingly admonish you, ye ship-owners of Nantucket! Beware enlisting in your vigilant fisheries any lad with lean brow and hollow eye; given to unseasonable meditativeness; and who offers to ship with the Phædon instead of Bowditch his head. Beware of such an one, I say; your whales must be seen before they can be killed; and this sunken-eyed young Platonist will tow you ten wakes round the world, and never make you one pint of sperm the richer. Nor are these monitions at all unneeded. For nowadays, the whale-fishery furnishes an asylum for many romantic, melancholy, and absent-minded young men, disgusted with the carking cares of earth, and seeking sentiment in tar and blubber.”

There were a couple of terms that I needed to look into to better understand the passage, which were:

Phædon is a defense of the simplicity and immortality of the soul, according to Moses Mendelssohn’s book of the same name. He was a Jewish Philosopher in the 1700’s.

Bowditch – referencing a mathematician, astronomer, and navigator, Nathaniel Bowditch, who was prominent in the early 1800’s.

Unlike in Chapter 3, when he was taking “you” the audience on a tour of the Spouter-Inn, this time is more of a moment of him addressing a specific kind of “you” the audience – anyone who might someday own or operate a whaling vessel. The simplest way to boil down this passage is to say, “don’t hire people who think a lot to do jobs where they are required to pay close attention to their surroundings, they will become lost in thought and lose you considerable money in the process.” Perhaps the most interesting part of this is that, for all of his talk of needing to go to sea to lose his personal melancholy, he’s literally describing himself as the worst hire for this type of job.

Ishmael continues to be an unreliable narrator, a person that we should not consider an authority about whaling despite all of the research that he does and the knowledge he continues to impart on us. He is telling us that this is a job he should not have done – this was his first job on a whaling ship, he was inexperienced and barely able to succeed in joining the crew. At best, he’s an extra set of hands. For all his talk of country dandies, he is no better than the people he admonished.