Short Essay: Close Reading 2

In the beginning of Chapter 110, “Queequeg in his Coffin,” Melville writes of the crew of the Pequod doing a deep clean of the cargo hold. Looking for an oil leak, they take everything out from the bottom, where it looks like you could find traces of Captain Noah and placards “vainly warning the infatuated old world from the flood,” and spread the objects out on the deck. In page 519, Melville offers the reader a specific image of this, “Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head. Well was it that the Typhoons did not visit them.” By using figurative language to personify the ship, Melville stresses the role of the Pequod as a nation state and a representation of young America, which he critiques for its naiveness and unreliable foundation. 

The term “top-heavy” is of importance here, because it refers to something that is excessively heavy at the top and in great danger of falling over. Although it is being used to describe the ship, it is not in a literal sense, as it makes no sense that a ship would topple over from many objects on its deck. However, Melville is referring to how the ship can be “top-heavy” when we are reflecting on its structure and ideals, which he argues are precariously built. Further, the term evokes the image of shallowness, as it is referring to the surface of the ship (it’s heavy at the top, but light at the bottom). In other words, it looks promising but it lacks substance. If we are to continue to think about the Pequod as a nation state and representation of America, as Melville has prompted us to do in the past, we can take these two ideas that spring from the term in question (how something heavy at the top topples over and a system that is superficial) and apply them to the young country Melville is living in; a country that has grown powerful at a rapid pace, a bustling, wealthy, energetic state that has many unaddressed cracks at its core. These fractures at the bottom though, Melville warns, will cause them to fall apart sooner rather than later. 

In the next phrase, Melville prompts us to look at the ship “as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head.” This image points to the ship (and therefore the country of America) as a naive entity. A hungry student is often immature and disheveled but also hungry for knowledge and idealistic. Idealism, that unrealistic romanticism, is a central factor evidenced by Melville calling attention to the head (“all Aristotle in his head”). This young student (or young country) is well-meaning, but their worldview only goes so far and stays stuck in philosophy and abstractions, which brings us back to the lack of substance at the base. Furthermore, by specifically referencing Aristotle, one of the most important philosophers for Western culture, Melville is indicating that this critique is meant toward for this sector of the world; but the analogy being used is of a student (who is often a young person), which means he is specifically critiquing the United States, the newest country of the West, and the one he is living in. After the American Revolution, the country united under strong ideals such as freedom, democracy, and unalienable rights, but the remnants of oppression in colonial America were never addressed. Slavery was one of these heinous violations, and it was becoming a more pressing issue with every passing day as unrest grew in the country. In other words, there were these big, noble sentiments that were proclaimed as the base of our nation, but when one looked closely at them, it was clear they were not consistently applied for every person in the land. We declared life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but in a tangible sense, these things were at best questionably exercised and kept at a very shallow level. The country was young and shaky, and for Melville it showed in its structure but also its inconsistent and undependable ideals. Preceding this idea with a reference to Noah’s Ark and the story of the flood, it is Melville making a warning about shaky foundations and the importance of heeding this warning in a timely manner, before we are destroyed.

This passage ends with a final warning disguised in a metaphor. Melville writes “Well was it that the Typhoons did not visit them then.” For the Pequod, or any ship for that matter, being hit by a Typhoon, a powerful force of nature, would have been catastrophic. He is saying that they were lucky they were not suffering from this dangerous event, but the word “then” implies that Typhoons will eventually visit them. In other words, catastrophe is imminent. As mentioned before, the issue of slavery in America was coming to a head at the time that Melville was writing his novel. The states are divided between slave and free states, but the recent Fugitive Slave Act was forcing every person in the country to be directly compliant with this structure (free states were complicit even before that as they benefitted from slave labor, but it was easier to ignore because it was less direct). The Typhoons that Melville is referring to are starting to brew on the horizon. Civil unrest is growing and division is more visible every day. This issue of blatant injustice would eventually burst into an all out war. The choice of using Typhoons as an analogy works because it implies that injustice will naturally erupt into chaos, a powerful force that we cannot fight. Melville is warning that the Typhoons are coming to our country, and with our naiveness and shaky foundation, we are ill prepared to receive them.

The tone of this passage is foreboding and admonishing, but it is also relatively gentle. Melville believes in his country and holds it close to his heart, which is why he compares it to a starving student rather than an entity of evil. It seems like he has hope in the good intentions of the American people, and their ability to change if they heed his warnings. This passage is highly relevant to the current climate of our nation. As Melville believes, it is important to recognize both our good intentions and failings as a country in order to directly address injustice and remedy it, lest it destroy us from within.

Essay 2- It’s Madness Luv

In the novel Moby-Dick, Melville uses Ahab to highlight how having an unhealthy obsession can take over a person’s whole self and eventually lead to madness. Ahab’s intentions from the beginning of the novel with the great White Whale were pretty visible and as it went on, his insanity became more deranged and more evident. This can be seen in chapter 113, The Forge, when Ahab drenches his harpoon with blood that Perth upgraded to help him defeat the White Whale. Melville writes, “‘Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!’ deliriously howled Ahab, as the malignant iron scorchingly devoured the baptismal blood” (Melville 532). Ahab performs a reverse baptism by drenching the weapon in pagan blood rather than holy water. His upgraded harpoon goes beyond the function as just a weapon, it symbolizes Ahab’s madness– his dedication to vengeance. By transforming the harpoon into a ritualistic object, Ahab’s obsession can be seen reshaping his reality. What was once just seen as a simple hunting tool turns into a weapon of mass destruction– an embodiment of his growing madness.

Ahab thirsts for the chaos to the point that he has their blacksmith forge an upgraded weapon of death to use for the great White Whale. He needs the most upgraded parts to give his weapon more strength. This is similar to video games where you customize your character’s weapon to the max so they can deal more damage for the boss battle. Ahab had given personalized upgrades for his harpoon, he says “Here are my razors– the best of steel; here, and make the barbs sharp as the needle-sleet of the Icy Sea” (Melville 532). His harpoon is more than just a preparation for a hunt, it is an extension of his madness. His weapon at first did not have all the upgrades but as his obsession deepens, his weapon does get upgraded. His fixation is being put into the weapon itself showing how obsession does not stay contained, that it in fact grows and intensifies until it consumes everything around it. Ahab forges a harpoon that is as destructive and extreme as his obsession, creating a superweapon to not only kill an animal but to kill a divine force, revealing how his anger and vengeance steered him away from reality.

After Ahab’s weapon gets its upgrade, he blesses it in Latin and the translation of what he says is “I do not baptize you in the name of the Father, but in the name of the Devil.” Ahab does a reverse blessing, a satanic-like ritual and calls upon the Devil rather than calling upon God.  He would rather get help and protection from evil forces rather than God’s strength against the White Whale. His fixation runs so deep that he corrupted the most sacred of ideas and instead of using faith to keep vengeance out of his heart, he uses it to keep it within. He abandons all forms of faith and chooses to turn to darkness itself to help destroy the whale. This further reflects that Ahab’s obsession goes beyond emotional and physical form but also spiritual and how it reveals the destruction obsession causes.

The reverse blessing continues and Ahab uses pagan blood from Queequeg, Tashtego and Daggoo. By using the pagan blood, it seals the deal for the blessing and shows how obsession has corrupted Ahab entirely. He is fully transforming his hunting weapon into a satanic weapon. Ahab made the conscious decision to use blood for the ritual that “scorchingly devoured the baptismal blood.” He is rejecting the idea of the Christian faith and instead chooses to side with the Devil. This reveals that Ahab’s unhealthy obsession has soared into insanity because he uses the pagan blood and believes the idea of the Devil is strong enough to defeat the Whale– he believes spiritual corruption is the only way that will lead him to his goal. 

Ahab’s obsession with Moby Dick has consumed him to the point of spiraling. The thought of killing and getting revenge on Moby Dick has completely taken over Ahab’s body, mind and soul, leading to his downfall. By devoting all of his energy to the White Whale, Ahab loses sight of everything else around him such as his and his crew’s safety and his responsibility as a captain. Every decision, thought and action is planned out carefully to reach the overall objective of destroying the White Whale. However, as Ahab gives his all into achieving the killing of Moby Dick, he becomes more unrecognizable and increasingly disconnected from reality as he crafts a tool of destruction that mirrors his corrupted mindset. Melville uses Ahab to show when a person allows vengeance to dominate their life and how it leads to self-destruction.

Essay #2

Chapter 123 of the novel Moby Dick, titled The Musket, is a chapter about the character Starbuck and his internal battle over the morality of direct versus indirect action and him succumbing to his own complicity. Towards the end of the chapter, Melville writes the passage, “The yet levelled musket shook like a drunkard’s arm; Starbuck seemed wrestling with an angel; but turning from the door, he placed the death-tube in its rack and left the place.” This passage to me is one that exemplifies and concludes the entire internal and external battle that Starbuck had been having, not just in this chapter, but throughout the entire novel.

“The yet levelled musket shook like a drunkard’s arm”. This as the introduction to this passage about decision is extremely impactful because it shows a more external feeling within this chapter about an internal battle. The weapon shaking in his hands becomes an externalization of this internal crisis Starbuck has been having. The diction in this passage is so poignant and purposeful. Melville calling the musket “levelled” represents the fact that Starbuck still has yet to abandon the choice of killing Ahab completely. However, that is juxtaposed within the same sentence with the use of the simile of a “drunkard’s arm”. This simile suggests the ideas and feelings of disorientation and the body acting on its own accord. It also evokes a feeling of shame from the readers, making it seem as if Starbuck already feels the guilt of the action in which he is contemplating, before even doing it one way or another. This internal battle and the choice he makes is sort of the moment in which his extreme complicity begins. When he begins to tremble, he is demonstrating the inability to be decisive and make a choice that isn’t necessarily self serving. This truly is what leads to the demise of the voyage. 

“Starbuck seemed wrestling with an angel”. This section is a reference to the biblical story of Jacob wrestling an angel. This story is one that represents someone letting go of both their own self-reliance and their weakness and becoming one with God. I think this is such an interesting and impactful reference because it evokes an image within the readers of a sort of divine test for Starbuck. It shows Starbuck fighting with his own moral identity and weakness, the internal battle of remaining obedient and under control or starting a mutiny and being responsible, and the decision of which one is necessarily good or bad. The ‘angel’ that Starbuck is fighting is both his own personal conscience that is wanting him to stop Ahab, knowing that if they continue it will lead to their demise, and the moral and legal law when it comes to murder. This quote and this struggle truly dramatizes the moral question of what exactly is good and what exactly is bad. Is him directly killing Ahab worse than him indirectly killing everyone else by remaining complicit as Ahab leads the crew to their demise? Him fighting the angel represents him being unsure of what to do and this inability to choose is what in the end makes him remain complicit. His need to have a clean moral conscience and need to have something be right or wrong is what truly holds him back. The religious imagery that Melville utilizes is so impactful because it really represents to the readers how the moral correctness that Starbuck possesses itself becomes a fatal decision. 

“He placed the death-tube in its rack, and left the place.” The diction in this section is also so extremely impactful. By calling the musket a “death-tube” instead of just its name, it shifts the tone for the readers from the gun being just a practical tool to being a representation of morality and mortality. Starbuck choosing to place the gun back is a gesture of surrender but physically and morally. He willfully relinquishes his agency and this act is a physical representation of him giving into his obedience to Ahab. By placing the gun back, Starbuck knows both his and the rest of the crew’s fate and is both complicit and resigned to see it through. This is the exact moment where Starbuck’s complicit behavior becomes something that is concrete and unwavering. By returning the weapon and not committing the act of murder, he lands the final blow of giving the power back to Ahab completely. His decision shows that he is choosing the comfort of hierarchy and indirect action rather than the courage of making a change. The simplicity of the end of the quote saying “and left the place” really just demonstrates how resigned to his own fate he has become. By simply calling the room a “place” it leaves room for this to represent not only Starbuck leaving the room, but also leaving his own responsibility, morality, and sense of justice behind with the musket. Something that Melville makes very apparent to the readers with his characterization of Starbuck and the rest of the crew is that not being able to stop evil when you can is a direct action of participating in the evil. By choosing to walk away and not take action, Starbuck remains a complicit participant and essentially is the one who seals the fate of the Pequod.

The Gilder: Let Faith Oust Fact; Let Fancy Oust Memory

Starbuck had been an adversary for Ahab throughout the novel, but as the voyage progressed, Starbuck could only rely on hopeful illusions to face the noxious reality. In Chapter 114, The Gilder, Melville’s use of forceful diction and stark contrasts reveals how humans cling to imagination to cope with horrifying truths.

Melville uses forceful diction to show Starbuck’s coping mechanisms. On page 535, Melville wrote in Starbuck’s perspective, “‘Loveliness unfathomable, as ever lover saw in his young bride’s eye!—Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping cannibal ways.’” “Loveliness unfathomable” tells of Starbuck wanting to believe in a positive outcome, and “Tell me not of–” tells of the truths Starbuck wants to reject; the facts that have been happening. He wants to forget and go home, a common coping mechanism for people with trauma.

Melville uses stark contrasts to show Starbuck’s mental state. He wrote Starbuck to explicitly say this because Starbuck was holding on to what little hope he had left. On page 535, Starbuck continued, “‘Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.’” The contrasts, especially the last line, paints Starbuck’s psychological struggle and reliance on imagination. The word “oust” here means to remove, meaning Starbuck wants to replace fact with faith, and memory with “fancy”. Perhaps here, fancy means imagination, and in this case, Starbuck is saying he’d rather believe in faith and imagination than accept fact and memory. This ties into the religious context, where believing that a mental construct exists feels more satisfying than facing reality. 

Melville’s use of diction and contrasts highlights Starbuck’s mentality. The diction had shown Starbuck’s conviction with his iron-willed beliefs. The contrasts between faith/fancy and fact/memory show not only the internal conflict in Starbuck’s morals, but also how he wants to be a good man in a world of cruelty. Applicably, people in real life struggle more in living with fact and memory than believing themselves in faith and imagination.

Essay 2: Motherhood, Youth, and Loss

It was through the tireless efforts of whaling and the pursuit, harvesting, and selling of whale bodies, namely spermaceti, that the newly born United States grew to be an economic and worldly powerhouse. Upon the worn wooden decks of American whaling ships, held sailors who, dedicated to the opportunities that a successful chase ensued, waited with bated breath and watched with eager, sea-splintered eyes for victims. The excitement of the hunt dominates the majority of the focus throughout Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, whether it is through a detailed depiction of the harpooning process or the loud, moment-to-moment account of the happenings of each person; the chase is narrated in rushed, keen tones. However, while the pursuit of a whale ends in profit, in the jars, pots, and head-topped boilers, it also ends in death and loss – the negative consequences that are often left unaddressed and unconsidered. 

When it is considered, the losses that occur in the pursuit of whales and profit, it is hardly done with an emphasis on the whale or the victim. This part of whaling, the cost of life that is required for human profit and capitalistic pursuit, is hardly acknowledged, except for one moment. In chapter 87, titled “The Grand Armada,” the Pequod encounters an extraordinary “armada” of whales and, in the tireless pursuit of the hunt, gets trapped in the very center of the group, emerging in a still, gentle calm. Beyond the depiction of this massive grouping, or school, of whales as a naval battalion organized and ready to fight, Ishmael looks down, interrupting our maritime warescene and taking a breath. It’s in Ishmael’s recognition of “the women and children of [the] routed host” of this whale formation that Melville deliberately pauses, taking the reader’s focus away from the battle drum of the great Leviathans and instead, peering into the watery realities of female and young whales (Melville 423). At this moment, Melville encourages readers to reflect on the cost of whaling and its impact on those affected, touching on and critiquing the broader moral implications of humanity’s capitalistic pursuits through reflections on motherhood, youth, and the consequences of loss. 

It is in the chase of whales and the drumbeat of the pursuit that Melville forces the focus away from the single considerations of the possibilities for monetary gain from killing and harvesting a whale to not only reflect on the water around them, but make eye contact with the very beings that exist in it. Almost as if, in this moment, Melville is encouraging the reader to remember that it is a life that you are pursuing, and to recall its origins and how it came to be. Remember that it too has a mother and children, that it lives a life bigger than being the pursee of opportunistic capitalist gain. This reflective moment is not a stance against whaling or capitalism as a whole, but rather a radical encouragement of empathy and awareness in consumption.

Essay 2 – Moby-Dick or, The Whale Against Capitalism

Herman Melville’s novel, Moby-Dick, serves as a critique of capitalism and its effect on American society. Throughout the novel Melville uses the whaling industry as a metaphor for capitalism; he demonstrates how the life-threatening labor of workers is used for the enrichment of others, how crewmembers on the Pequod are merely seen as a commodity for profit, how material wealth overrides the morality of those working and living in a capitalist society, and the disconnect between the consumer and the laborer. The novel shows readers that capitalism in America has created an individualistic society in which profit and gain is more important than morals and lives.

In Chapter 16, titled “The Ship,” Ishmael meets Captain Peleg and Captain Bildad, the owners of the Pequod, for the first time prior to the ship’s departure. Being the owners of the ship, both the captains will take a majority of the profit that is made from the Pequod’s whaling expedition. However neither one of them will step foot on the ship during its journey, and instead they will stay on land and reap the benefits of the hardworking and life-threatening labor done by the crew members of the Pequod: “ ‘Thou are speaking to Captain Peleg – that’s who ye are speaking to, young man. It belongs to me and Captain Bildad to see the Pequod fitted out for the voyage, and supplied with all her needs, including crew. We are part owners and agents…’ People in Nantucket invest their money in whaling vessels, the same way that you do yours in approved state stocks bringing in good interest” (Melville 80-82). Captain Peleg and Bildad are able to avoid the risks of whaling, but by being owners of the ship they will still share most of the profit earned by the crew members during the Pequod’s dangerous expedition. This shows the disparity in industrial capitalism; the ones at the top will do the least amount of labor, yet they will still make the most amount of money. Melville compares the investment and ownership of whaling vessels to that of the reader’s investment in stocks. Like some stocks, the money that comes with whaling involves destruction, corruption, and death. Putting a profit over a life, whether it be whale or human, shows the immorality of the industry, and how capitalism has created a society in which people are only so interested in their own gain that they don’t care what has to be done in order to get it.

In Chapter 93, “The Castaway,” Melville uses the character Pip to highlight how workers are seen as a commodity for profit in American capitalist society. While chasing a whale, Pip leaps overboard and is caught by the rope connected to the whale. With the only option to save him being to cut the rope and freeing the whale, Pip is reluctantly saved by Stubb, who berates him for the incident: “ ‘Stick to the boat, Pip, or by the Lord, I wont pick you if you jump; mind that. We can’t afford to lose whales by the likes of you; a whale would sell for thirty times what you would, Pip, in Alabama. Bear that in mind, and don’t jump any more.’ Hereby perhaps Stubb indirectly hinted, that though man loves his fellow, yet man is a money-making animal, which propensity too often interferes with his benevolence” (Melville 452). Pip is told by Stubb that his life is not worth more than any amount of money that could be made from the whale. Profit over life, unsurprising considering the money is made off of the killing of whales. Melville shows the harsh reality of the industry, how workers are seen as expendable and should not be considered anything more than a commodity and a way to gain wealth. Directly after this, Pip falls overboard once more, and the cruelty of capitalism is shown in full effect: “Pip jumped again… when the whale started to run, Pip was left behind on the sea, like a hurried traveller’s trunk. Alas! Stubb was but too true to his word… Stubb’s inexorable back was turned upon him; and the whale was winged. In three minutes, a whole mile of shoreless ocean was between Pip and Stubb… For the rest, blame not Stubb too hardly. The thing is common in that fishery” (Melville 452-454). This time, Stubb sticks to his word and puts the potential profit of the whale over the life of Pip. Melville also points out how this is a common occurrence in the industry, and to not judge Stubb too harshly for his immoral decision. Too often it is seen in America that the lives of workers are less important than the money that is made off of them. Capitalism has created a society that does not care about the loss of life so long as the money keeps coming in. Pip’s life did not matter to Stubb or to any of the other members on the boat, as they were too focused on killing the whale that could make them some money. Perhaps even more so, Melville uses Pip, a Black American, to demonstrate how another industry puts the importance of profit over life and morality; slavery. Still the major issue in America at the time of the novel’s publication, slavery is capitalism in its most cruel form. The gaining of profit off of the buying and selling of humans, forcing them into unpaid labor, and treating them like they are inferior. This chapter goes to the full extent in showing the brutality and viciousness of capitalism in America, and how money overrides morals.

Throughout the novel Melville shows the dangers of the whaling industry. He goes into the harsh details of killing whales and the production of whale oil, a product used by many Americans at the time; by doing so Melville is able to demonstrate the disconnect between consumers and laborers under capitalism. In Chapter 61, titled “Stubb Kills a Whale,” Melville gives the reader a brutal detailing on the killing of a whale by Stubb: “And now abating in his flurry, the whale once more rolled out into view; surging from side to side; spasmodically dilating and contracting his spout-hole, with sharp, cracking, agonized respirations. At last, gush after gush of clotted red gore, as if it had been the purple lees of red wine, shot into the frighted air; and falling back again, ran dripping down his motionless flanks into the sea. His heart had burst! ‘He’s dead, Mr. Stubb,’ said Tashtego” (Melville 311-312). The production of whale oil comes at a cost. The harsh killing of whales in a most vicious form, of course dangerous for whales but also the men tasked with killing them. Consumers are not the ones going out into the ocean and harpooning a whale until it is dead, yet they are the ones using the oil for simple things like candles, lamps, and soap. Another example of this occurs in Chapter 96, “The Try-Works.” In this chapter, the reader is introduced to the process of turning whale fat into oil, something that many consumers of the product do not see: “These fritters feed the flames… the whale supplies his own fuel and burns by his own body. Would that he consumed his own smoke! for his smoke is horrible to inhale, and inhale it you must, and not only that, but you must live in it for the time. It has an unspeakable, wild, Hindoo odor about it, such as may lurk in the vicinity of the funereal pyres. It smells like the left wing of the day of judgement; it is an argument for the pit” (Melville 462). This description of the creation of whale oil shows a side that the consumer does not see; workers in harsh conditions, breathing in smoke that is not meant to be inhaled, working in a strong stench of burning blubber, the Pequod is both a ship and an industrial factory. The whaling industry makes its profit off the ignorance of their consumers, no doubt hiding the harsh realities that go into it. 

Herman Melville’s novel, Moby-Dick, is a critique of capitalism and how it has severely affected American society. Melville uses the whaling industry as a critical analysis on capitalism, demonstrating how the poor treatment of workers, the disparity between consumer and laborer, and the immorality of capitalism has turned America into a country in which profit is more important than lives, whether that life be whale or human.

Essay #2: The Quadrant

Nearing the end of the chapter, after Ahab has sold his soul to the devil himself and becomes the devil’s reincarnate on the Pequod, the whole dynamic shifts as the crew become appalled of the branded Ahab. After the commencement of the forge, Ahab feels entitled to freewill in an agency that liberates him of earthly materials dictating his life trajectory. The sun and the quadrant, working side by side, to indicate where he should go is almost like mockery for Ahab because it reveals that his life is fated to the world instead of full transcendence only the sun can be. He realizes from there that his goal to find and kill Moby Dick is of his own device and not a heroic reverence from the heavens or God; and with this reality, is angered by the truth that he is a pawn wrestling his own, tormentous thoughts in order to escape his true individuality he is ashamed of. Here, he finally questions his power position in the structure of the Pequod as it is his only defining, living validation of who he is in the hierarchy on the seas. “The Quadrant” is a discussion of Ahab’s refusal to let the social hierarchy cease to exist, while also striving to find transcendent freewill and identity for himself after taking an oath with the devil in the forge. 

First, it is presented in the passage that Ahab feels entitled to sharing the omniscient power of the sun because he has already branded himself anew. This anticipation to such power is seen when he initially questions the sun first, exclaiming, “This instant thou must be eyeing him. These eyes of mine look into the very eye that is even now beholding him;…and into the eye that is even now equally beholding the objects of the unknown…thou sun!”(Melville 544) Ahab is interrogating the sun, even at a point where he personifies the sun and feels betrayed by its secretive notions toward him. By isolating the sun as a very representative of Ahab, the sun transforms into this ally that Ahab now earns to possess in class rank because of his new establishment with the forge; he feels entitled to the knowledge of everything, which becomes a discussion of Ahab pronouncing his superiority to divide rank and class in the boat. He believes he has every right to the power because he, as a captain, has the ability to earn the highest rank through willpower, devotion, and crazed fanaticism in his goal– to kill the white whale. To talk to the sun is an outward representation of Ahab’s crazed temptation to cross mother nature’s bound; and, afterward, an expected response from the sun is a demonstration of his delusioned give-and-take dynamic one often expects in the hierarchy. Discourse with the sun can be an exaggeration to Ahab’s frustration, however, if this were the case, then all Ahab’s notions of forging the harpoon with Pagan blood would have been all for nothing to the novel. Moreover, his instigative tone with the sun is regarded as him directly speaking to the sun.   

By breaking the instrumental device to know where the boat’s latitude should be is also a sign of Ahab becoming mentally insane, but also an indication that he heavily believes in the power that class divide holds. He vehemently seethes, “no longer will I guide my earthly way by thee…by log and by line, these shall conduct me…”(Melville 544) The more corrupt and rich someone is, the more one believes they are able to manipulate and resist working class conditions. The Parsee’s shock at what Ahab has done is evidence that what was initiated in breaking their way to navigate the seas is nearly impossible. His reaction to the words above are indicative of our supposed reactions, because what Ahab has done is intended to be ridiculous and unbelievable. But, why does this particular scene matter? It proves critical to reading the validity of insanity Ahab definitely has in light of embodying his position as captain. He knows, with the presence of class divide and no law written in the seas far from land, he becomes “immortalized”, hence breaking the tool. This destroying act is not simply frustration, but deeply, it is Ahab’s way of dominating his superior power over the rest of the crew. 

From feeling betrayed by the sun as if it was his confidant and breaking the quadrant device to test his immortality, The passage also deals with science and the spiritual in constructing Ahab’s freewill. Ahab interestingly detests the sun in this moment, but also acknowledges its power, and with that, calls out science for “insulting the sun” because it limits his autonomy in becoming omniscient and omnipotent as the sun. “…and yet with thy impotence, thou insultest the sun! Science! Curse thee, thou vain toy; and cursed be all things that cast man’s eyes aloft to heaven…”(Melville 544). While Ahab feels betrayed by the sun, he understands he is subject to its power; by this reading, he articulates class divide, but eventually ends up abandoning it for “his log and line”, fully depending on his own strength which marks his dictatorship on the Pequod. With constructing dialogue and conflict among the sun and the quadrant as personified agents, these objects take upon a new life form in the novel. He doesn’t just deal with sun and device, but in their roles, deals with the conflict of what it means to be human in the face of these constructs; does Ahab abide by the ship’s design or abide by his crazed psychotic obsession?  The compass reminds him of his weak mortality as a human, while the sun reminds him about the class divide, and what he can be with the illusion of superiority and corruption overtaking his mind. The compass acts as a literal power divide, reminding Ahab consciously that he is still a pawn of his own evil doings; as the blood pact made in the forge solidifies the fact he suffers and assuages his own tormentous thoughts, making it more of spiritual consequence out of his own shame of facing himself, rather than him being the chosen one to slay this white whale.

In this escapism, Stubb at the end of the chapter calls out Ahab’s insecurity. Stubb knows Ahab feels emasculated and does not want to deal with his consequences by defying death even after the whale is slain. Stubb rather patronizes, “Here some one thrusts these cards into these old hands of mine; swears that I must play them, and no others.” And damn me Ahab, but thou actest right; live in the game and die in it!”(Melville 545) To “live in the game and die in it”, Stubb calls out Ahab’s escapism in facing himself, suggesting that agency and free will was there for Ahab before his obsession overtook him, making him sell his soul to the devil. By acting right, he reveals Ahab’s evident abuse of his captain position in the hierarchy that isolates himself from the rest of the working class crew. “Game” in the line addresses the existence of class divide, and “to die in it” suggests that Ahab’s feelings of emasculation in the social rank is because he is cheating his way through life and death by dealing with the devil’s work. At the same time, he is too egotistical at this point to ask his knights below him for counsel because that would “erase” the demarcation line of captain and crew he feels he has identity and duty to. By understanding he societally has the upper hand, and madness makes a man, Stubb reveals that Ahab in this moment is justifying his insanity with the literal divide of class; to question the captain would be out of line for Stubb because he would not understand Ahab. In a way, Ahab’s deflection of the blame is his projection of what he feels; and as a result, he “infantalizes” those below him as he inevitably faces the horror of himself. Stubb overall instigates here in the text that hiding behind a secure, dillusioned sense of grandiose entitlement in the class divide is not a defining aspect of who one really is– which is what Ahab does not want to hear. 

Ahab does not want to face reality and would rather continue hiding behind justification of his title in class rank with no concrete sense of self. It can be questioned here then what does this white whale profit for him? Metaphorical “death” after killing the whale means the death of those fantasy feelings before brewing up the tale of Moby Dick for Ahab; and in this sense, he is no man, but a cowardly man hiding behind the preservation of class divide and title that only the social hierarchy gives him. To read the sun, the tool, the Parsee’s shock, and Stubb’s cards is to read the internal condition Ahab projects onto the rest of the ship. Stubb is not only a concerned mediator of the situation at hand, but he is also a concerned working class member that understands he, and the rest, would be directly affected by Ahab as we now read the Pequod as a social structure itself, led and dictated from Godly, un-God-like captain Ahab to the now evil, branded captain Ahab.  

Essay #2

Throughout the book, Melville tells and suggests that the reader stop and read closely what he is painting for us, how to read and make diligent study of the messages that hide in the lines of Melville’s work. “The slanting sun playing upon this crimson pond in the sea, sent back its reflection into every face, so that they all glowed to each other like red men… At last, gush after gush of clotted red gore, as if it had been the purple lees of red wine, shot into the frighted air; and falling back again, ran dripping down his motionless flanks into the sea. His heart had burst!” (Melville 311). The word reflection is strong in this passage; to read and reflect on what you’re reading, in a sense, we are glowing red in the reflection on these men. We should be reflecting on how the dirty work of whaling is an overlooked aspect of American history,  especially to the people on land. Whaling is a bloody battlefield that can’t be overlooked by the men on the boat, but is by the people on the land. Melville is making a clear critique of the land-based reader for their ignorance by giving them a glorious description of the exploitative practices carried out on the boat to produce the civilized lifestyle on land. Melville teaches readers how these civilized goods are produced, such as electricity, a bone corset, and perfume. Ignorance is bliss to the land-based reader, out of sight, out of mind, but in this case, the details are never in mind when it comes to our land people. 

Reflection is what Melville suggests the reader do: open this book and read these glorious details about whaling and how it’s done. Ignorance is bliss; that’s something Americans are being criticized for, wanting the benefits of whaling, which is the oil, the bone, and the ambergris, which provides Americans with electricity and perfume. The part of which they’re choosing ignorance is not knowing where they got their electricity and perfume from; it comes from the whale, and they don’t know where or how. “The slanting sun playing upon this crimson pond in the sea, sent back its reflection into every face, so that they all glowed to each other like red men.” (Melville 311). Glowing to each other, they all glowed together; their act of killing reflects blood rather than the actual blood spread out. Melville is pushing us to read the blood on the pages and reflect, and put the land-based reader up for critique for their greed, their greed to send men out to sea to bring back oil for their pleasure.  Melville is pushing the reader to read this passage and critique the land-based reader. To bring back what I said, we are glowing red in the reflection of these men, watching them in their glorious act. Also, to mention “that they all glowed to each other like red men.” (Melville 311), they glowed to each other like red men; the blood isn’t what is making the men red, it’s the actions of the men that make them all glow red.

“At last, gush after gush of clotted red gore, as if it had been the purple lees of red wine” (311 Melville).  This line in the passage alone shows us how Melville is showing the two different sides of the people on the sea vs the land, the men who are on the sea killing whales have seen and get caught in the red gore and gushing blood clots, while the people on land drink red wine and wait for the whale oil to come to land so they can live like civilized people. The upper class drinks red wine while the people on the boat have to do the bloody work; that’s their red wine, blood, and clots. The land-based reader sits back and drinks their wine, while the men on the boat are murdering whales for a living, so the land people can live in such luxury. This passage is stating the two differences in ocean and land readers, one strikes blood that resembles red wine, while one is drinking the blood that has been struck. I want to dive into not only how it states the two but how it’s displayed as two. “gush after gush of clotted red gore,” and as if it had been the purple lees of red wine” (Melville 311). The use of the comma is what displays the marking of the difference between the land and ocean people. On one side, we have the glory and the blood, while on the other side, we have the red wine. What’s happening in the ocean vs what’s being brought back to the land? 

The glorious detail of the whale’s killing is important to read, and Melville is pushing the reader to understand its significance. Whaling isn’t natural, but what comes from the whale is their blood, their blubber, and ambergris, which is natural. When talking about the land-based reader, we are talking about most readers of “Moby Dick”. The idea of whaling may be simple, but when it comes to the details of watching this beauteous creature die in glory to provide the land with such materials to live a luxurious life is far overlooked in American history. It’s a brutal battlefield against man and whale, where the whale doesn’t really stand a chance. Montinless to most whales, it’s murder to whales for their goods. Melville wants the reader to understand man vs whale, what man does to the whale. “shot into the frighted air; and falling back again, ran dripping down his motionless flanks into the sea. His heart had burst!” (311 Melville). Watching the heart burst like it’s nothing but material goods, the whale’s heart belongs in the ocean. It starts in the ocean and ends in the ocean. Glore is motionless to the land reader; you don’t hear or see the blood, you sit and drink your red wine. 

Essay #2: It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World

In Chapter 88, “School and Schoolmaster,” Ishmael pauses the narrative once again to delve deeply into the life and characteristics of a whale, where nature, education, and symbolism beautifully intersect. In this chapter, Ishmael offers observations about how whales travel in “schools” and how they seem to be led by larger, more dominant figures — the so-called “schoolmasters.” Male and female whales form separate groups, with older bulls often guiding the young, but this isn’t just about marine biology — Melville uses these natural behaviors to reflect on leadership, instinct, gender roles, and education. The whales’ orderly patterns serve as a metaphor for how societies operate, how power is passed down, and how life in the sea mirrors life on land. We see this anthropomorphizing of the Schoolmaster accurately depicted on page 430. “It is therefore not in strict character, however admirably satirical, that after going to school himself, he should then go abroad inculcating not what he learned there, but the folly of it. His title, Schoolmaster, would very naturally seem derived from the name bestowed upon the harem itself. Still, some have surmised that the man who first thus entitled this sort of Ottoman whale must have read the memoirs of Vidocq, and informed himself what sort of a country-schoolmaster that famous Frenchman was in his younger days, and what was the nature of those occult lessons he inculcated into some of his pupils.” (Melville) This paragraph is the antithesis of the scholarly white male of the late 1800s, where the coming of age of one adolescent transforms him into a man of wisdom and experience. If these animals think and live just like us, it’s a shame they are hunted because Ishmael is showing that these god like creatures are more than just an absent reference to be exploited and not seen as living beings. These livoathans are more human than we think, and Ishmael is evoking us not only to think, but also to question whether whaling is morally wrong.


Just like the ‘riotous lad at Yale or Harvard,’ the schoolmaster whale lives a synchronous life of that riotous lad. We learn that these young males are raised in a school by a harem of female whales, and this Ottoman of a whale is described as a [gentleman] ‘accompanied by all the solaces and the endearment of the harem.’ To use the word ‘gentleman,’ Melville has implanted this image of an upstanding father, one who is a caretaker, breadwinner, and doer of what is right, but not all male whales are of the ‘Ottoman Dynasty.’ Mellville references this to illustrate the relationship between one outstanding male (a king or emperor) who is entirely in charge of his life and the lives of his co-inhabitants, which instills a supreme masculinity evident throughout history, particularly in the 1800s. Some whales lead the life of a ‘Forty-barrel-bull,’ personified as the angsty rebellion teen, who ‘duel among their rival admirers’ for love. The homewrecker of the oceans. It is the job of this ‘lord whale to keep a wary eye on his interesting family’ because he too was just a bull in a school before achieving the title of Schoolmaster.’


“It is therefore not in strict character, however admirably satirical, that after going to school himself, he should then go abroad inculcating not what he learned there, but the folly of it.” Melville here captures the consciousness and free thinking of a whale, which, if not known to be from the source material of this quote, I would have assumed was speaking about a 20-something-year-old college graduate trying to find the meaning of life and live a life of “fight, fun, and wickedness.” This Lord Whale becomes “a great traveller, he leaves his anonymous babies all over the world; every baby an exotic.” This specifically refers to a male whale, where, in the society of land and ocean, it illustrates that males are the dominant sex when it comes to unapologetic independence. In contrast, the harem of whales stays behind, awaiting a predetermined fate of cultural codependence. This is symbolism of a whaler and his family, as the whaler goes on a voyage for an unforeseen amount of time, possibly never to return, and thus this “sulky old soul, goes about all alone among the meridian and parallels, saying his prayers and warning each young leviathan from his amorous errors.” Here, Melville has described the whale of learning from his own mistakes and years of wisdom, which can also be passed on from one young whale to another. Just as the day of listening to one’s grandfather reminiscing about a story that starts with the words, “back in my day…” 


“But some have surmised that the man who first thus entitled this sort of Ottoman whale must have read the memoirs of Vidocq, and informed himself what sort of a country-schoolmaster that famous Frenchman was in his younger days, and what was the nature of those occult lessons he inculcated into some of his pupils.” There’s a specific reason Melville has referenced Vidocq in comparison to the Ottoman whale. Vidocq, just like modern-day masculinity, was quite the ladies’ man and was able to use his wits to seduce those creating the “harem”. Melville refers to the “occult lessons” Vidocq supposedly taught these immoral lessons to his “pupils” when he was a country schoolmaster in his youth. Vidocq became a born-again gentleman years later (transitioning from a bull to an Ottoman) even after having a morally ambiguous past, reflecting the agreeableness, philosophical, and natural curiosity between man and whale. Regardless of the characteristics of sex and species, members of the harem school, as we know, are typically composed of young females and can exhibit compassion and empathy. “But strike a member of the harem school, and her companions swim around her with every token of concern, sometimes lingering so near her and so long, as themselves to fall a prey.” 

The narrative pits two contrasting modes of masculinity against each other: the dutiful husband and the lothario. This juxtaposition serves to highlight the complexity of the whale’s character and its reflection of human behavior. In the process, the text engages in a significant amount of anthropomorphizing of whales, applying human ideas and standards to them, and drawing from their ‘natural’ behaviors a sort of secret truth about the ‘right’ way for things to be.
Young whales are promiscuous, always trying to steal away the “wives” of older whales from their “harems”. Older whales settle down and seek to protect what they see as their property. Then, elderly whales go off on their own, put out to pasture and roam the world, their work for the species already done. This older whale, in this case, has a specific name, Moby Dick, a whale that, just like a contestant on Survivor, is here to outwit, outlast, and outplay those who try to hunt him for his years of renewed experiences has taught him to be the “man” he is today. 


Of course, these animals behave just like humans! This is the truth underlying everything. If whales are just like humans, then is it okay to hunt other humans without batting an eyelash? Besides our genetic makeup, humans and whales can coexist in unity and be researched for the betterment of the human species. Humans invite themselves into the ocean world of whales and divide and conquer, whereas the whales wouldn’t stand a fighting chance on land. We can discern the truth of the world by examining “nature” (Emerson), by looking closely at the lives of whales to determine the destiny of humanity (specifically man).

Essay #2: Ishmael, lost at sea

In Moby-Dick, Herman Melville repeatedly stages moments in which the sea overwhelms the boundaries of human identity, but few scenes capture this more powerfully than Ishmael’s trance on the masthead. Suspended high above the Pequod, Ishmael drifts into a state of “opium-like listlessness” in which consciousness loosens, perception widens, and the difference between the self and the ocean begins to dissolve. This moment is not merely atmospheric; it dramatizes a philosophical crisis at the center of the novel. Through his hypnotic depiction of reverie, loss of identity, and spiritual diffusion, Melville suggests that human life is shaped by natural forces far greater than individual will. In the masthead passage, Melville uses imagery of trance, cosmic absorption, and tidal ebbing to show that identity is unstable and never fully self-owned; this dissolution reveals a deeper, universal soul that undercuts the American ideal of a singular, autonomous self and that, ultimately, the overwhelming power of nature exposes the fragility of the man-made structures and hierarchies that the novel otherwise appears to uphold. In tracing how the sea absorbs Ishmael’s individuality, the passage becomes a quiet critique of national identity, human authority, and the illusion of personal sovereignty.

The passage below, which occurs during Ishmael’s solitary watch on the masthead in Chapter 35, captures the trance-like dissolution of self:

“But lulled into such an opium-like listlessness of vacant, unconscious reverie is the absent-minded youth of blending cadence of waves with thoughts, that at last he loses his identity; takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature… In this enchanted mood, thy spirit ebbs away to whence it came; becomes diffused through time and space.” (172–173)

This moment, with its shifting sensory language and its movement from reverie to cosmic dissolution, initiates Melville’s larger unraveling of individual identity–an unraveling that begins with the very nature of Ishmael’s altered consciousness.

Melville opens the masthead scene by depicting Ishmael’s consciousness as drugged by the natural world, using the language of trance to unravel the boundaries of individual agency. The phrase “opium-like listlessness” immediately establishes a state in which Ishmael’s mind is no longer directed by will, intention, or purpose. This simile is striking because it attributes to the sea the agency typically associated with a narcotic: the ocean becomes a substance that infiltrates and alters consciousness simply by being contemplated. “Listlessness” emphasizes not just relaxation but a near-total suspension of motivation—a dangerous condition given Ishmael’s precarious position on the masthead. Melville intensifies this sensation through the paradoxical phrase “vacant, unconscious reverie.” Reverie ordinarily implies imaginative or even productive mental wandering, but here it becomes emptied out: the mind is active and inactive at once, drifting but directionless. This tension between motion and vacancy mirrors the larger tension in the novel between the desire for self-determination and the pull of environmental forces that erode that autonomy. Ishmael’s trance, then, is not simply daydreaming at sea; it is the erosion of his ability to think or move independently. Yet this initial loss of control is only the beginning, for Melville soon expands Ishmael’s trance into a profound dissolution of self that reaches far beyond mere distraction.

As the passage deepens, Melville makes the collapse of Ishmael’s individuality explicit, casting the ocean as a “mystic” embodiment of a universal soul that destabilizes the idea of a singular, autonomous identity. The bluntness of the phrase “he loses his identity” stands out amid the otherwise lyrical description. Melville refuses metaphor here: the loss is direct, unmistakable. Yet the surrounding language transforms this loss into something more cosmic than terrifying. Ishmael “takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature.” This sentence fuses perception with metaphysics; the sea becomes both an external force and a symbolic embodiment of a collective human essence. The adjectives “deep,” “blue,” and “bottomless” work together to evoke not just physical depth but spiritual depth—the unknowable fullness of a universal soul in which boundaries cannot be located, let alone defended. Most crucial is the phrase “pervading mankind and nature,” which dissolves any distinction between human identity and the natural world. Ishmael becomes part of a continuum rather than an isolated self. In this way, the passage quietly challenges the American ideal of a self-made, self-contained individual. Melville replaces singularity with pervasiveness, autonomy with absorption. If this identity-loss challenges the notion of a self-contained individual, the passage’s final imagery pushes even further, suggesting that the self not only dissolves but cycles back into the vast motions of the natural world.

Melville’s imagery of ebbing and diffusion portrays human life as a temporary, borrowed motion, a force that passes through the individual rather than originating within it. When the narrator claims that in this enchanted mood “thy spirit ebbs away to whence it came,” he invokes tidal language that links Ishmael’s soul directly to the rhythms of the ocean. An ebb is not disappearance but return: it signals a cycle, a movement back toward an original source. The implication is that human life is not inherently self-directed but participates in natural and possibly cosmic currents far older and more powerful than the individual. Melville follows this with the even more expansive statement that the spirit “becomes diffused through time and space.” Diffusion suggests scattering, dispersal, the loss of borders. The verb erases containment; diffusion is the negation of identity’s edges. Ishmael does not merely blend into the sea—he dissolves into the universe. This condition radically opposes the American emphasis on personal sovereignty, suggesting instead that identity is something briefly concentrated within a human body and then released again. This vision of life as cyclical and uncontained gains further significance when we consider where the passage appears in the novel, a placement that directly interacts with the Pequod’s rigid social and symbolic structures.

Placed early in the voyage, the masthead scene subtly undermines the Pequod’s rigid social order by revealing that nature’s vast, absorbing power renders human hierarchies—and the American individualism that sustains them—fragile and illusory. At this point in the narrative, Ishmael has only recently joined the crew and is still orienting himself within the ship’s structure of authority, labor, and racial hierarchy. Below him operate the systems that define the Pequod as a microcosm of American society: Ahab’s emerging command, the capitalist imperative of the whaling mission, and the ethnic stratification visible among the sailors. Above him, however, these structures collapse. The masthead offers an elevated vantage point not only physically but philosophically. It removes Ishmael from the ship’s human order and places him in direct relation to the sea, which reveals itself as a force indifferent to the divisions and identities constructed below. The trance thus becomes a momentary emancipation from the artificial boundaries of nationality, race, and profession. It also foreshadows the conflict between Ishmael’s fluid, receptive identity and Ahab’s rigid, monomaniacal one. While Ishmael’s self dissolves into the sea, Ahab’s hardens against it; the placement of this passage anticipates the inevitable consequences of resisting the ocean’s overwhelming power. Seen in this broader narrative context, the masthead moment becomes more than a lyrical digression; it serves as a thematic blueprint for the novel’s unfolding confrontation between human selfhood and the overwhelming force of the sea.

In the masthead passage, Melville reveals how the sea dismantles the illusion of personal autonomy through its imagery of trance, identity-loss, and diffusion. Ishmael’s consciousness loosens, his individuality dissolves, and his spirit cycles outward into a force that precedes and exceeds him. By placing this moment early in the narrative, Melville underscores the fragility of human systems—national, hierarchical, or otherwise—when measured against nature’s absorbing vastness. The passage ultimately suggests that identity is not a possession to be defended but a temporary form taken on by forces far larger than the self. In a novel that frequently focuses on the limits of human power, the masthead scene stands as an early reminder that the self, however cherished, is always perched on the edge of dissolution.