Will To Live

Queequeg has been my favorite character so far in the book, and not going to lie at the beginning of chapter 110 and the title of it scared me a little. I was definitely preparing myself for the end of Queequeg. Luckily, he was able to push through the fever and continue on. Something that he did that I found quite interesting was the fact that he made the coffin his “sea-chest; and emptying into it his canvas bag of clothes, set them in order there.” Queequeg set up his clothes with purpose in the coffin that was once going to hold his dead body, this was his way of moving past his near death experience and a reflection of his new found purpose—a reawakening. In traumatic events, the steps of acceptance and change is different for everyone but one way people deal with it is through rearrangement of their space. What was once the routine has changed thus implying for a change in the areas around us. 

To seal the deal of leaving behind what once was, Queequeg, “Many spare hours he spent, in carving the lid with all manner of grotesque figures and drawings…copy parts of the twisted tattooing on his body.” He left his mark on the coffin, he would not have had the chance to if he had passed, of course. He was once again taking control of the situation, he took control of his fate by deciding he wanted to live, he took control of what was going to be in the coffin instead of him, and took control of what was going to be on the outside of the coffin as well. He graffitied it, showing that he has lived on but left his mark just like when a person marks a tree “(name) was here.” 

This chapter felt very biblical, reminding me of the chapter in which Lazarus was mentioned—the biblical figure who was resurrected by Jesus. Melvilles choice to use Queequeg as the character who would have a near death experience just to “resurrect” was interesting because it shows that regardless of who the “God” is in your life, everyone has someone or something that they believe in and will hold onto them during moments of difficulties. Humans crave for that comfort that will convince us that things will be okay even if they feel like they aren’t, thus pushing us to want to change or push us to live life with purpose. 

The enlightenment of death

In chapter 110, we readers get a good scare from Melville, because it seems certain that our beloved Queequeg is going to die. I enjoyed this chapter very much, but there was a section in page 520 that especially caught my attention. Melville writes, “But as all else in him thinned, and his cheek-bones grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless, seemed growing fuller and fuller; they became of a strange softness of lustre…And like circles on the water, which, as they grow fainter, expand; so his eyes seemed rounding and rounding, like the rings of Eternity.” Here, Melville presents a new kind of enlightenment, one that comes not from madness like in Pip’s case, but one that arises from proximity to death. For Queequeg, this enlightened state transcended the abstract and was physically visible in his body. Ishmael says that his eyes were getting bigger and gained a “softness of lustre.” The eyes are through which we take in the world around us, and the bigger they are can metaphorically represent a higher awareness and a deeper perspective on life. His eyes also had “lustre,” which is a glow (light) on reflective surfaces. Not only are eyes for taking in information, but some would say they are the window to the soul, and a visible shine on them is representative of an enlightened soul that can’t keep from outwardly reflecting that. Queequeg’s eyes are subsequently compared to “circles on the water,” another reflective surface, exemplifying the outward manifestation of enlightenment; but water isn’t just reflective, it is also a fluid, shifting surface, where marks expand and grow “fuller and fuller,” but also fainter. After all, Queequeg’s expanding eyes and thin body are a tangible sign of decay as much as they are a metaphorical sign of enlightenment. The human body is as impermanent as moving water. But while the body is temporary, the soul is eternal. Ishmael finally compares Queequeg’s expanding but fading eyes to “the rings of Eternity.” As he nears death, in Ishmael’s eyes, Queequeg becomes infinite in spirit. His body will fade away, but his soul, which is accessible through his eyes, becomes eternal. Aside from the spirituality in this scene, we also see Melville once again addressing the question of how we acquire knowledge. As he has shown us before in the book, existence is not exactly fit for certainty, but maybe death is. Melville questions that we can really know anything when we are alive, but in this scene, Queequeg’s expanding eyes and eternal soul display death as a true path to knowledge and revelation. In an ironic turn, when death begins to take the place of life, that is when a being may truly grasp their existence. It seems to be impossible to know anything with certainty, but that changes when we cease to exist. Though a very sad scene of sickness and decay, Melville uses lovely and serene language, giving the reader a sense of peace and almost as a way to dispel fear and restlessness. This is a tranquility that comes from finally understanding that which you could not in life, but the price to pay for that is death.

White, the color of absence and death, in flame

Throughout Moby-Dick, there has been a kind of attention to the number 3. There are 3 mates for the ships, 3 mast heads to the ship, and the 3 peaks featured on the doubloon, but there are also supernatural connections to 3 sprinkled through out the novel, such as the blood of 3 harpooners to temper Ahab’s barb, the 3 fires alight the top of the mast heads, as well as 3 people prophesizing Ahab’s demise: the prophet, Gabriel from the Jeroboam, and the Parsee.

This is a number present in the Bible – the holy trinity – and even Pythagoras, a great philosopher of Greek History that has been mentioned at least once in the novel, believed that the number three was special. One such reason was that it is the only number where the numbers that come before it add perfectly to it. Another reason, and one that I link more to this section of the novel than his other reasons, was that it seems to reflect our world on a conceptual level – beginning, middle, end; birth, life, death.

In the chapter, The Candles, this number is repeated and emphasized as the spectral lights cast brilliant shadows onto the ship below.

“All the yard arms were tipped with a pallid fire; and touched at each tri-pointed lightening-rod-end with three tapering white flames, each of the three tall masts was silently burning in that sulphurous air, like three gigantic wax tapers before an altar.” (549)

This all comes two chapters out from Parsee’s prediction of Ahab’s death by hemp rope, after Ahab calls it a strange sight the idea of a hearse and its plumes floating over the ocean. For reference, hearse plumes were ostrich feathers that would adorn hearse carriages at the time, signaling the departed’s wealth and status. Having 5-6 plumes meant you were wealthy, more meant that you were truly rich. In reference to this, the flames are described as pallid and tapering. What are the flames but Ahab’s own funeral plumes, floating atop the ocean he so desperately searches for his monomaniacal need for revenge?

Week 11: Pip’s Soft Death

One part of the reading I found particularly interesting this week was Chapter 93, which covered Pip’s death. Instead of being violent or scary, I felt this chapter wrote Pip’s death off as something natural, a regular casualty of the whaling industry, and a celestial commentary on the feelings of death. The deaths’ of animals in this novel comes off as graphic and horrifying, filled with resistance and gore, yet Pip seems to just fade away into the horizon, as if he is nothing more than a leaf floating down the river.

Melville writes: “The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul… So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feelings then uncompromised, indifferent as his God” (p.453). What a way to describe death. First off, the sea seems to be taunting, as it keeps Pip’s mortal body afloat, similar to those of the floating whales after their perishing. I also found the second half of this sentence interesting. Melville calls the soul infinite, yet it has been drowned. Drowning implies death, yet infinite implies forever, and these two contrasting descriptors could imply the place after death (presumably Heaven with the religious undertones we already see in this novel). These two contrasts mediums (solid body and infinite soul) are also important to note in a historical context; where examination of these two ideas were less scientific and more theoretical, not that we have much stronger of a grasp on these concepts nowadays. 

Melville continues on, talking about how man’s final thought would be absurd and frantic, and almost brushes over this idea. When the whales die, it is frantic. Yet this slight acknowledgement of the same concept in human’s death is barely seen, as Melville works to romanticize and sweeten Pip’s death with soft words and celestial language. He finishes it off with “indifferent as his God,” which implies God would not care of this death, or perhaps any human’s death. 

Chapter 7 – The Chapel (And Death.)

Ishmael finds himself entering a Whaleman’s chapel within this chapter, talking about his observations and feelings towards the idea of death. Part of me feels similarly towards his feelings about plaques, and while it is easy to imagine the countenance on the people he sees in the middle of mourning, I think this chapter puts into perspective on how people are supposed to understand and tackle the idea of a loved one dying. (Or anyone dying in general for that matter.) Ishmael himself doesn’t seem entirely bothered by the idea of death as we’ve seen, but he reflects this specific idea. “…yet lies antique Adam who died sixty round centuries ago; how it is that we still refuse to be comforted for those who we nevertheless maintain are dwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all the living so strive to hush all the dead…” (42) Ishmael seems baffled by the idea of people grieving loss at the idea of (Christian) heaven being a better place.

Additionally, he also makes a point about how those who embark for specific work or journeys are paid while others are not. There’s merit in how a man’s life is held. Going back to the plaques, I believe Melville’s intention of putting them in this chapter preface’s the idea that we are not necessarily supposed to feel anything at all. From Ishmael’s standpoint, there isn’t any sense of grief or personal connection. Why should these plaques take up a whole/half a page? Is there any true significance other than the idea that the whaling journey he is about to embark on might have him turn into nothing but a plaque as well? Is someone going to grieve him? Melville makes the chapter foreboding, and it changes the tone from the previous chapters before.