IKE THREE AND CRAFT OF MAN mvw:
'JEEFINEHAMMERED SEEL

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Milton R$|Stem

ind-131W

AN ABSTRACT
Submitted to the School of Graduate Studies
or Micmgn State University in partial
fulfillment of the requirements for the
dagreo or
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Dapartmant of mgl 1311

1955.

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Approved z

 

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Placing Melville as an anti-idealist and pragmatist, this
study suggests that Helville is the focal figure in the turning
point of American letters in the general breakdown of, roughly,
two thousand.years of western, Platonic metaphysics under the
impact of contemporary science and naturalistic thought.

The study proceeds by analysis of the four novels which
illustrate most conveniently the deve10pment of Melville's
thought, m, M Pierre, and m _B_u__d_g_. 222.29. adumbrates
Melville's use of symbol, setting up patterns of color in
contexts which reappear in later books, setting up oppositions
of land and sea, western and primitive existence, mind and body,
isolation and communication, and setting up some of the conditions
necessary for control of human history. Although much of gypee's
manipulation of language may have been a product of "unconscious
feeling,”.Eargi_consciously explores the historic suicide and
genocide made by the quest which is oriented toward otherworld
and individual vision rather than toward earth and community.
Pierre carries the exploration of guest to its logical extreme,
widening the emphasis upon God and Fate as definable entities
in Melville's cosmos. M _1§_u_d_<_i_ comes as a capstone to the
entire structure, not as a statement of acquiescence and
resignation (as so often has been thought), but as the most
discernible piece of pragmatism which can afford to dispense
with the problems of the quester, and which at the same time
recognizes the limitations of mortality that make impossible a

complete control of man's conditions. The ultimate irony of

11

Melville's works is that whatever element of control and of moral
and political value exists in the universe exists in man and his
realizations, and that the traditionally revered elemmt of complete
control and value, God, is only the omnipresent and eternal blankness
and zero of Time.

In attempting to describe Melville's techniques, this study
finds specific and widening areas of meaning for such debatable
figures as mum, dautia, Isabel, Pierre's father, and Baby
Budd. Whatever meanings emerge from study of technique always
work consistently in a deve10pment of unified theme and tone that
is common to everything melville wrote. In brief, Melville new r
changed his mind and "resigned": he intensified. And in the
intensification of theme, his quarrel was not preperly with a non-
existent conventional God as much as it was with man for his
blindness and delusion and tactical errors, which result in a
history of incremental crime and error, each act pragmatically
emerging as a consequence of every other ac t.

his thesis finds that, despite some stylistic atrocities,
which were as much a part of the age as of Melville's lexicon,
Melville not only exposed the most important phllOSOphlcal bases
of speculation that gave birth to naturalism, but perhaps better
then any writer of the time reflected the societal actualities
that gave birth to those philosophical bases of speculation; in
the differences between adherents of God and man, the idealist

and the tee tician, Melville takes his place with man and tactician.

‘Q

111

And in the very nature of this choice, Melville was unable to
write real tragedy, but rather wrote magnificent prescriptions

for human conduct in a world abandoned of absolutes; prescriptions
which, ironically, needed only a "program," the one impossibility
for Melville, to make them thematically affimative instead of
essentially negative. In any case, Melville emerges as the American
artist who is still unsurpassed in examination of a conflict of
orientations and values that is reaching a height today and that

bids fair to determine the next two thousand years of human thought.

m f i.a|ll"lllllll|v"ll

 

THE Tamar AND CRAFT OF HERMAN IamLVILLE:
THE FINE Barnum STEEL

BytYfi
Milton B.» Stern

A THESIS

Submitted to the School of Graduate Studies of Michigan State University.
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English

1955

CONTENTS

I. IntI‘OdUCtio-n eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 10
II. General eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 190
III. £2266", eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 360

IV. Mardi OOCOOOOOOOOOOOO...OOOOOOOOO... 81.

 

V. Pierre eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeo213e

 

no B1112 B'ldd/ eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 312e
VIIe 001101115103 eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 348e

VIIIeChGCklj-St eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 368s

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INTRODUCTION

The purpose of this study is to provide an approach to a de-
finitive statement about the meaning of Melville's writings. The
word "meaning" has been so belabored that it needs redefinition in
almost any context. Specifically, what I here intend by the word
is a series of statements about the prescriptions for human be-
havior that are found by analysis of the way in which Melville put
his books together.

In one sense, the meaning of Melville's books is out of keep-
ing with the mainstream of thought of his own times. Melville was
writing in an age that emphasized individualism, either economic
or transcendental. What is not immediately apparent is that Mel-
ville basically emphasized society rather than the individual. He
simply utilized the plight of the very pronounced individuals in
his books to show that a personal disregard of the world dictated
by the desire to follow one's own heart or mind is sterilizing,
suicidal, and murderous. Ekcept for Billy Budd, Melville's books
take as a central character the individual who makes a spiritual
and philosophical voyage, symbolized by a physical voyage. The
spiritual voyage is a search for a paradisiac better world, as
adumbrated in 21239 and only incidentally in Qggg, which is the
least important of Melville's books. Or it is a search for an
ideal, an absolute perfection, as presented in flaggi. Or it is a
search for a past and an identity as presented in Whitejacket and
Redburn. Or it is a search for ultimate truth and being, a final

[perspective of man's cosmic position as presented in Moby Dick.

2.
Or it is a search for the possibility of behavior according to the
other worldly and ideal responses of the human heart, as presented
in‘gigggg. Or it is a search for the establishment of faith and
confidence as presented in The Confidence Man and gigggl. Of
course these statements are oversimplifications, for at best they
can merely suggest convenient categories. The books all share in
each other's problems, and the richest of the books embrace all
the problems. Generally, the totality of the books presents a
man's search for God, a search which is at once unnecessary and
futile.

The man who searches may seem to have Promethean character-
istics: he submits himself to agonies for the advancement of the
race. But again what is not immediately apparent is that ulti—
mately he is selfish. His submission to the inner dictates be-
comss a challenge of all outward circumstance. His search becomes

a satisfaction of his own selfwill and idealism, which predispose

him.toward the search even before circumstances activate the will
and idealism. Generally, it has been overlooked that this central
man who searches is given a predisposition for his quest either at
the opening of the book, or later in the book by revelations that
imply the predisposition as having always existed. By always, I
mean just that-the central searcher's characteristics have been
formed before the book begins.
Generally, students of Melville have agreed to be content with

calling the central character the "isolato"——a term conveniently

supplied by Melville himself. Yet the term is too inclusive. It

characterizes, for instance, men like Pierre's Plinlimmon and
Billzqfiggglg Claggart, who have long since withdrawn from a search.
"Isolate" must be pinned more concretely to the Melvillean charac-
ter who, for any number of reasons, has withdrawn from the world
and who no longer has any desire to communicate with humanity.

The first half of this definition applies to a central searcher
like Pierre departed from Saddle Meadows and withdrawn into his
symbolic room.in NewVYork. But it does not apply to Pierre the
author. To differentiate the central searcher from the rest of
Melville's isolatoes, I have used the term "quester." All questers
are isolatoes, but not all isolatoes are questers.

The quester must feed upon himself. He is his own vulture to
his own Prometheus. He cannot regenerate himself. He can only
drive himself with increasing fury until the quest becomes what
Melville himself calls a gangmania, a monomania which becomes not
only singleness of purpose but also singleness of self. And so
the quest becomes sterilizing, for once withdrawn from.the world,
the quester can no longer hope for sustenance from.the world. Nor
can he sustain the world or bring his own plans to fruition. The
constant irony of Melville's books is that the otherbworld towards
which the quester drives also will not offer sustenance because
either it is a world that does not exist or it is a world in which
the quester can not be operative.1 Regarding the sterility of
quest the fact, for instance, that Ahab fathered a child is in
keeping with nineteenth century sentiment, to which.Melville was

slightly more prone than we could desire-—the reader is asked to

14.
consider that the hard, dark man gives up young wife and newborn
babe. But it is badly out of keeping with the general character-
istics of the quester.

Moreover. the quester is embarked upon a hopeless voyage.
Either the consequences of his actions kill him, so that he effec-
tually commits I'suicide," or else he deliberately removes himself
from life. which for him has been one history of error. Melville
piles up events to an impasse: the quester's only possible alter-
native is to remove himself from his human history. And the only
possible means at hand is death. Perpetuating a history of error.
the «poster still refuses to admit the impossibility of his quest.
and still searching sails beyond the reef that separates life from
death. world from otherworld. Or else he takes poison from the
very cause which activated his quest. The quester demonstrates
that following one's own bent in disregard of world and time is
mane.

Yet more. The very separation of self from world and time
demands deceit. The quester- is invariably a liar who deceives
himself as well as the members of his human community. so that at
the outset his very method defeats the ideal he pursues. The
actions of the «master become a series of events which are a
pragmatic view of history. Intentions are irrelevant. It is
only the act and the consequence of the act that are important,
and the two cannot be divorced. It is this that is Melville's
inexorable figure Pete: the develOpment of human history.

Paradoxically, man's free will can be Operative

5.
only if it is controlled and insightful, only if it chooses the

kind of inexorable Fate which is the consequence of the act of
free will-which in turn has been dictated by the acts and con-
sequences of previous history. All of Melville's works are a
picture of the sound and the fury, a tale told by a woe—smitten
man looking at history created by idiots.

Finally, of course, the quester must be a murderer. The con-
sequences of his acts are out of his hands. The humanity he has

deceived and coerced are party to the consequence, and the sin of

one man is the sin of all. The symbol of all humanity is sunk by
the impossible object of the impossible quest, and goes down with
all hands aboard but one. Or if the effect is not so far reaching,
at least the quester is responsible for the death of his goal, as
is Taji, and is also responsible for the murder of the history of
his house, as is Pierre.

The quest motif certainly is not unique to Melville. As a
motif which opens inevitable statements about all human history,
it is as old as human'thought, part and parcel of all the myth and
ritual of the world. However, Melville's use of the technique,
while again not unique, is particularly modern. The quest does
not result in purgation of world and time, does not result in a
rebirth, a clean slate. It simply "ends" in a never ending con-
tinuum.of hwman history, with the quester'necessarily defeated
with no lessons learned, with even the one real hero, Captain
Vere, murdered by the very ferces which continue man's history of

crime and error. In short, it is part of the purpose of this

6.
study to show that Melville did not write tragedy. His works differ
from classical tragedy and from myth and ritual in that there is no
pane. no moment of communal wisdom. no clean point of perspective
from which man takes a deep breath. blinks, and rests before he
plunges down to begin the whole bloody cycle all over again. This
statement of Melville's cyclic continuum is to be central to his view
of history. his attitude toward the quester. and his position as a
political classicist who yet embraces cultural democracy and relativ-
ism. For his works, as a totality culminating in ELLE B_u_d_d. cham-
pion the need of imposition of order by the few complete men who
understand history, while at the same time the works champion the
statement that all men of every social, economic and ethnic condition
are truly equal brothers for they are all subject to the limitations
of their cOmmon mortality. and must all bear. the burden of the his-
tory they create.

The being which activates the quester I have chosen to call the
hrs. The lure does not exist in all the books, and only by implica-
tion in some. In m the lure is release from the duty-ridden and
sterile bondage to the brutal order of a technological western world.
In W the lure is more concretely symbolized in Wellingborough's
father's 'prosy old guide book.” In 534.5. there is Iillah. in
m 2135 there is the whale. in gig-Lg there is Isabel. Briefly.
the lure is a representative of the otherworld corporealized in
this world. It appears in two forms. Either it is the actual
embodiment of the ideal absolute for which the quester strives. as
Iillah is to Tui. or else it is a direction to the attainment of

the ideal absolute as Isabel is to Pierre and as the whale is to

7.
Ahab. The lure always points toward the otherworld, the realm of
ideal absolutes, in short, toward God. This study will attempt
to demonstrate that the lure is got a false front, since it truly
has either the hunger for or the characteristics of the other5
world of God, but rather that it is a false direction. For'Mel-
ville's pragmatism is heavily allied with a realistic empiricism
that denies the existence of the otherworld as conventially con-
ceived. ‘When he does create a symbolic Christ, he does so to
demonstrate that this anbodiment of otherworld ideal is murder-
ously inoperative in this manofwar world of actualities. Could
Ahab have struck through.the whale, he would have fbund only an
infinite and eternal blind forehead of dumb, white, blankness. I
will attempt to define this creature, this God, this zero thing
that, blank and nothing itself, yet offers to man all the possi-
bility for:making stink or perfume, light or blackness, heaven or
hell on earth-and on earth only. I hepe to demonstrate fairly
conclusively that this being Melville defines as blank Time-
nothing more and nothing‘lggg. I believe that this definition is
most important for'placing'Melville in an overview of American
literature. In his insistence that the universe is blind and in-
different and morally patternless, and that blind and limited and
physically living man must impose his own patterns and control
his own destinies (Melville's figure, "Fate"), he is, among other
things, America's first naturalistic author. And he holds a deep
and abiding anti-idealism in common with his later brothers.

The lure points toward this God as a basis for human

8.
behavior, vhich it is not. It suggests, either by love or by
malice in the mind of the quester that this God is the answer to
the enigmas of human history. ‘Which it is not. The quester be-
lieves, and driven by predisposition, activated by lure, he tries
to strike through the mask to the ultimate, never realizing what
he is striking to, never realizing that in abandoning man and
man's world for the otherworld of ideal, he is abandoning the
very God, the very answer he seeks. The lure, as representative
of otherworld (the lure, when human, also never really'under-
stands the true nature of the otherworld) is either a dumb
ubiquitous brute, or is a human significantly inexperienced in
this mrld, unable ts communicate with this world, steeped in
fantastic legend and ancestral memory of an otherworld which-~the
height of ironyb-always turns out to be a creation of human
history. In short, the lure, by the very nature of its function,
cannot be completely earthly or*human. And of course the great
white ubiquitous whale becomes Melville's single best symbol.

There are two more basic characters to be added to the
quester and.the lure. They are the western world and the primi-
tive world, which is usually symbolized by south seas peoples.
is 22225 foreshadows, man can not change worlds. The fact of
western man is his western world, and the two worlds are contrast-
ed not as ethnic groupings (all men are brothers), but as levels
of development in man's history. The western world is the present
level of intellection, the world of the deracinated man trying to

to find his human soul. It is a world of artificialities and it

9.
is the world of mind. Here too, Melville becomes a focal begin-
ning point for most of our own contemporary literature. The
primitive mrld is the mrld of the senses and the heart. Its
inhabitants are childlike, trusting (they have the confidence for
which the western man searches), they are physical (characterized
by an enormous ability for sleep and by beautiful physiques) and
they are mindless. The primitive world is the elemental, unarti-
ficial world of the child. The primitive is inoperative in the
complex, adult world of the west, and the western man is inopera-
tive in the spontaneous world of the primitive.

But Melville sees certain things common to both worlds, and
what is held in common is the irreducible that becomes Melville's
statement about the nature of general man. Both worlds are
belligerent. Both worlds are blind to their own mortality and
the nature of God and history. Although in the western world man
must struggle to conquer nature and in the primitive world man
easily submits to and integrates with nature, in both worlds man's
own nature is anarchic. And it is the final view of man as anar-
chic that underlies the political classicism of _B_i:_l_]£ M. The
classicism, which I attempt to demonstrate in Melville's last book,
needs a brief definition. As would be emected, it is anti-
romantic. But unlike the antimmanticism of a speculator like
T. E. Hulme, Melville does not see man's potentialities as limited.
In the idea that man makes his own history all by himself there is
an implication of limitlessness. Rather, Melville sees man's

nature as limited. Man is too blind to his common mortality and

10.
to his need of subordination of individual goal to group harmony.
He cannot advance unless he advances gregariously. But he cannot
advance gregariously because he is anarchic. In short, Melville's
world cannot break the vicious cycle unless and until most men are
like Melville, and Melville's world shows no direction to the
attainment of that goal. is Plinlimmon's pamphlet suggests, the
reaching of that goal is heaven. 'When all men are like Melville
then man will not have to break the cycle because it will be broken.
Briefly, I hope to demonstrate that the very unprogrammatic quality
of Melville's work, a quality that usually saves books from being
blatant propaganda tracts, is paradoxically what prevents Melville
from creating anything positive. The end result is that the cycle
of human history is self-perpetuating and that the simplest thing
that can be said is that it will not break until it breaks. The
beauty of it all is that in the tremendous artistry with which
Melville creates such a statement, there are countless rich pre-
scriptions for human behavior, all of them positive in themselves.
It is simply inescapable that in approaching Melville's works the
critic must recognize the difference between the artist and the
moralizer or systempbuilderb-and this study is not to be inter-
preted as a statement that the two cannot be joined.

Both primitive and western worlds, then, are caught in the
endless cycle of the history created by man's anarchic nature. In
2:223, Melville explores what happens to the western man who tries
to adapt himself to the primitive. Then, as if realizing that this

was not the most fruitful direction for books written for his own

ll.
society, he switched his emphasis-but not before getting 9222 out
of his system as a popular work, the success of which so amazed and
excited him, In £32552, he explored the would be redeemerhquester
who brings the ideals of pure, childlike heart to bear on the
' western world to which he emerges. It is for reason that Saddle
Meadows is presented as a.bit of primitive Types set in the west.
It is for reason that Pierre is so often referred to as a child.
And this redeemerbquester goes through all the steps of withdrawal,
deceit, a sterile relationship (as Pierre points out, Isabel's
breasts hide poison, not milk for infants), murder, and suicide.
The redeemer—quester'becomes the haterbquester. The idealistic
Christ figure becomes satanic. Actually, Pierre is the more com-
prehensive protagonist than Ahab. Pierre goes from love to hate to
the final realization that brings neutrality, to suicide. we see
Ahab only after Christ and Satan have merged, and Ahab never
changes. EBilly Budd, too, is pictured as the childlike barbarian,
the pure dreature whose inner experience is only the experience of
his own inner purity and ideality. His Spontaneous responses are
those of the heart, not the mind. And this Christ figure too de-
ceives by his silence, finally becoming a.murderer and thereby
causing his own death. Billy, no quester, is himself the lure
which Vere painfully rejectS'with all the insight created by Vere's
own understanding of history; For he finally understands Claggart
as Satan just as he understands E231 Budd as Christ. But Vere's
one overriding fact is the fact of the western manofwar world and

he cannot choose Christ. And Claggart himself is no more than the

12.
other side of Budd. Budd is the ideal; Claggart is the conse-
quence. Claggart is the quester who finally became completely
satanized, who no longer quests, but merely hates the false di-
rection of the ideal's appearance with all the 'monomania that
characterizes any of Melville's questers. Thus it also becomes
the intention of this study to demonstrate the singleness of
Christ and Satan as one entity with a dual face, and to demonstrate
that the dualities of Melville's works all unite in a single
entity-u-the flow of history in Time. Although the two worlds of
west and the primitive prey on one another (the west is by far the
more predatory) and cannot mix except by the destruction and
change of one of the worlds (alkays the primitive world changes,
for mind always destroys heart), they are beth united in the mor-
tality which constitutes history. Ifi‘~'emmary, this study attempts
to define the relationship Melville creates for man, world and
God.

So much then for the thematic material I will attempt to
demonstrate.

The study proceeds by an examination of four books, meg,
Maggi, m, and Billy _B_11_c_l_c_i_. These are the four books which
best demonstrate the development of the thematic material into a
unified whole, so that all the books become as one book. This is
not to be construed as an evaluation of quality, for M _I_)_i_c_1_g,
the best single book Melville wrote is not included here because
it was earlier created in embryo in M and was later expanded

in new directions in Pierre. Unfortunately, it is not as basic

13.
as the others to a study devoted to the development of Melville's
prescriptions for behavior.

3222?. certainly is not the same consciously symbolic con-
struct that the later books are. But in this very first book of
Melville's career is a wonderful adumbration of the materials Mel-
ville will use. There are the quester, the lure, the two worlds.
Larger considerations of God and man's relation to God do not
enter yet, but the patterns of imagery with which such exploration
will be made are also adumbrated in We. Use of color, relation-
ship of worlds, use of description of the human body, height,
depth, land, sea, as symbolic imagery exist ifr-this first book.
Also, 3222! sets up a constant in the relationships between the
four basic characters. Throughout all the books, the relation-
ships between characters do not change, although the symbolic mean-
ings of the patterns of imagery do change.

Mi is Melville's central book and one of his least-«if not
the least-«unified. Still exploiting the south seas setting, 343$
simply places a western mrld story in costume. The central
characters are all western men, as the geographic allegory alone
makes plain. Picking up character-relationships and patterns of
imagery where m left off, Maggi; is Melville's first determined
attempt to tell the story of the quest as a symbolic history of
civilization.

m replaces Taji, whose will and mind kill heart, with a
quester whose predisposition is based upon the demands of the heart ‘

Like Taji, Pierre also kills his own heart, but now the story is

1A.

stripped of unsuccessful allegory that was as obtrusive as Mardi's
was, and the action is set in the western world which was to be the
recipient of Melville's highly symbolic messages. £33132 carries
the quester to a realization of his untenable position (which
M and even M921 Pig}; had not done), and with Pierre's death
the story of the quest is complete. What remains is to create a
hero.

The questers were not heroes. They were all incomplete, being
pared dorm to the incompleteness of self-willed selfishness.
Thematically, they were all villains. What would happen if there
were a man who did manage to combine heart and mind, who was not
blind to history, and who also had a political or social position
which would allow him to become socially operative? What if this
man were exposed to a choice between this crime-filled manofwar
world and the pure ideal?

Captain Vere is the man created for this purpose. His re-
Jection of a beautiful impossibility in favor of the ugly reality,
his decision to force his position of command to do what his head
dictates and his heart detests is his acceptance of this world as
the only possible world. It is not, as critics have tried to
dunonstrate, an acceptance of God and a sulmission to Fate. It is
quite the Opposite. Vere decides to remain unwithdrawn, to accept
the responsibility of the human conmunity by accepting the responsi—
bility of command. His decision to maintain order in the face of
the anarcl'w of man's nature is his sacrifice of self to the neces-

sities of moral responsibility.{ He is the polar opposite of the

15.
quester, and the recognition of Satan-Claggart as a dead serpent
is Melville's final statement about the basic villainy of the in-
dividual who is isolate, or quester, or obsessed with individual
sele In Big Budd. the characters change: the quester drOps out
and the hero takes his place. And the lesson of the hero's sacri-
fice is lost. The lesson of Baby Budd's final realization of the
rightness of Vere's action is lost. The world gains not social
insight but cyth, and the cycle continues.

The texts used for this study are not the standard Constable
Edition. Rather I have used texts which are most easily available
and which are relatively inexpensive. Farrar Straus~Hendricks
House had begun a new standard edition, but only a few works were
published before the enterprise was discontinued. Those few vol-
unes are all out of print, and almost as difficult to obtain and
as expensive as the Constable edition volumes. Except for gm,
which is practically unavailable, and then in almost no edition
but the Constable or Hendricks House, the Hendricks House volumes
have not been used. Because of the age of the standard Constable
editions, some of the more recent editions provide better texts.
For instance, the modern Library Giant ed. of 2222.? includes not
only the text of the first edition, but also the sequel Story of
Toby and the Appendix of the English edition. Because of the
deplorable lack of a new and complete standard set of Melville's
works, there is no real need to be bound by the outdated Constable
edition when cheaper and more available copies are to be had from

various publishers.

16.

For my part. I could wish every reader to return to Melville
with the intention of being his own critic. For Melville was
trying to tell America and the world what the correct and incor-
rect courses of action are. For Melville's position in American
letters is central. If it can be said that 2000 years of western
idealistic systems ever broke down, they began to break down in
the 19th century under the impact of a new science. a new politic.
a new sociolog. Melville was the greatest spokesman of the break-
down. To briefly define his central position in American letters.
it is accurate to say that he rejected the American 17th and 18th
century systems of thought in terms of 19th and 20th century
thought. With the possible exception of the Penn Warren of All
211; £251.! is}; (which has some startling similarities to Mel-
ville's works) Melville successfully embraces a wider time quality
and a deeper thematic quality than any other American writer. and
he is the American focal point for one of the most profound
changes in western history. His warning buoys were placed in the
Sargaseos end icebergs of much that was and is dear to an entire
society. In a large sense, most of what the man wrote would today
be considered "dangerous" by many who are unwilling to abandon
sailing grounds which to Melville were filled with hidden reefs of
wreck and ruin. met I find "dangerous" themes in Herman Mel-
ville's books is not a question of Iv agreement or disagreement
with such thence. Rather. if this partial restatement of theme
can continue and contribute even a little to the tradition Mel-

ville saw as the great human necessity for unconfined thought

17.
within confined and controlled action. than the debt is paid to

the old voyager. who still gives sustenance to those who believe
that he has indeed found one way to place man's hands "among the

unspeakable foundations. ribs, and very pelvis of the world.” And

this is still a fearful thing.

18.
NOTES

1. I use the term "other-world" in the sense that it is
presented by Lovejoy in The Great Chain 9_f_ Being: the ideal and
absolute realm of God.

CHAPTER I

GENERAL

I

When a transcendentalist reviewer wished to tell his readers

Residence among the Natives 93 5 Valng 92 the Magussas Islands:
21; _a_ Peep at Poflesian Life, he wrote of the Marquesas which
Melville had visited as

...these gems of the ocean, in which Nature...has hinted
the extent of her possibilities...perfections which she
shall possess in infinite and universal variety when,
through the combined industry and wealth and power'of a
united Race, she shall have become but the image and
expression of the Kingdom of God abiding in the souls
and societies of Man...

The reviewer goes on to explain that the secret of the good social
state is abundance; that, contrary to Victor Cousin's beliefs, man
must have more than good precepts; that industrialized America,
with a.more equitable social order of production and distribution,
can have a stronger peace and more profound good will than have
the Typees. When the writer touched upon the issue raised by
Melville's treatment of the missionaries, he said that
It is proper to say in behalf of the author that he does
not impeach the...Christian character of the missionaries
in general. He merely avers that their designs have
often been injudicious and that other influences than

that of the New'Testament have operated on the natives,
which are undoubtedly the facts...We do not presume to

20.

condemn...[the missionaries] ...individually, but in
God's name we condemn a social order which is founded on
such contradiction! of the Divine laws, and which de-
votes to a hopeless and miserable existence so large a
majority of human creatures.
In one important manner, this pronouncement is typical of the
reaction of the nineteenth century reviewers: it interprets the
book according to its own predetermined findings, and uses the
"shaming travelogue" as a point of departure into its own advoca-
tions. Curiously enough, the Harbgger notice touches however
slightly upon some of the book's basic themes, at least those of
universal human brotherhood, the aspects of western civilization
which are inhuman, and the obvious discrepancies between the
preachments and actions of militant Christianity.3 I emphasize
the obviousness because 31292 is a fairly obvious book, especially
for Melville. But the significance of the Harbigger review (as of
lost of mge's contemporary reviews) lies in the suggestion that
when it does touch upon the book's themes, it does so almost un-
consciously, accidentally, ani indirectly. The obverse of this
significance is that the reviews did not come to grips with Mae's
underlying implications. The implicatiom create a starting point
for the relationship between the primitive and western worlds, as
well as a starting point for the relationship between the quester,
the lure, and both worlds. The apparent vehicle for discussion of
those relationships is the occasional treatment of the results of
contact between Christianity and the Marquesans. The more im—
portant and less apparent vehicle is an apposition of mind and

body, mind and heart, commication and lack of communication. The

21.
discussion of such Opposition: and relationships builds a basis
for the larger, more complex structures of the later books.

There is no way to prove that Melville consciously ggt gut to
create such a discussion. I am tempted to say that he was p93
conscious of Inse's symbolic construct because it was his first
book, because he was still a young man (he was twenty-five when he
wrote the book, twenty-six when it was first published), and be-
cause he was writing one of those narratives of travel so pOpular
in the first half of the nineteenth century. But I am more strong-
ly tempted to say that he lag conscious of what he was doing be-
cause the age of the novice does not preclude artistry, because
the vehicle of a piece of literature—in this case the vehicle of
travelogue—certainly does not preclude conscious working of
levels of meaning, and because the consistent contriving of motifs
is too persistent for that contriving to be dismissed."’

Moreover, the themes arising from Mae's comideration of
human communication and the Oppos ition of "mind" and "body" fit too
well as a point of mnbarkation for Melville's philosophical voyage.
Again and again, as he dives into the depths of his later books, he
is to hook by the nose these minor thematic leviathans, subject
them to the try works of his mind, and boil every last dr0p of
suggestion out of them—they are, in short, very definite and
provable theses within the totality of Melville's writings.

At em rate, Melville's reviewers were not accustomed to find
in contalporary American literature the methods and meanings which
Melville was to put into it. The central point is that as early as

22'.
the publication of his first book, after which he was, for a
while, a very successful and pepular young author, Melville was

“misunderstood. "5

Indeed, almost without exception, the literal
minded critics considered his book in terms of whether or not it
was authentic (some even going so far as to wonder if there was
am such person as Herman Melville), or in terms of enchanting
escapism, or in tems of whether he was to be praised, tolerated,
or Jailed for his treatment of the missionaries.6 By the time of
this writing, however, contemporary scholarship makes it in-
creasingly clear that it is less ard less possible to dery the
actuality of the symbolic eaqaerience in Melville's early books.7
As little as we know about Melville's own feelings and stated
intentions, there is some slight biographical evidence that he was
not as interested in factual reporting of his experiences as he was
in what he could accomplish artistically using those eiqaeriences.
After almost rune pages of parallel quotations from sections of
one student comes to the conclusion that the "significance of the
discovery of this source material lies in thefact that it consti-
tutes another step in solving the problen of the relationship be-
tween Melville's technique of composition and the use of his source
mtsrials. ..At times he borrowed extensively without alteration;
at other times he made significant alterations for the purpose of
producing a dominant mood or impression...again, he seems to be
deliberately planning to throw us off the trail."9 When we look at

Tome, we see that in his desires and sensibilities, he is isolated

23.
by being his difference from the wretched and debauched crew and
from the nativemlo Indeed, in has the crew of the Dog is
painted in heavily uncomplimentary colors. Tommo voic as to the
reader extreme dissatisfaction with the crew and with his lot
aboard ship at sea. Yet, in a letter to Lemel Shaw, in which
Gansevoort Melville relays news from Herman during the factual
period of Herman's real trip to the Marquesas aboard the whaler
Acushnet, Gansevoort says:

I am in receipt of a letter from aw brother Herman
dated August 1841 at Santa Martha, coast of Peru—He
was then in perfect health, and not dissatisfied with
his lot—the fact of his being one of a crew so much
superior in morale and early advantages to the ordinary
run of whaling crews affords him constant gratification.
the paper I see that his ship-“the Acushnet—Pease—

the cafiaig—was spoken in Dec last-at sea-all
well...

There is no special reason to believe that Herman wrote the
truth to his family. In fact, I suspect that Herman disguised his
true thoughts from his'family as well as from his readers. Yet
there is no reason to believe that this letter does not speak
truth, at least as of August, 1841. In the long run, these pros
and cons cancel out; what is germane is that there is no reason to
doubt that even at this early date, Melville was consciously pre-
pared to utilize experience in a sacrifice of fact for thematic
purpose. As the London Athenaeum put it, ",..si _r_1_o_n g vero g 1235
trovato. . .We vouch for the verisimilitude, but not the verity":L2
True or not, we met go to the story itself; 11293 is the best

source for the scope of m.

24.
II
In the Preface, the author makes a statement about the

author:

In his account of the singular and interesting peeple

among whom he was thrown, it will be observed that he

chiefly treats of their more obvious peculiarities; and,

in describing their customs, refrains in most cases

from entering into emlanations concerning their origin

and purposes. As writers of travels among barbarous

communities are generally very diffuse on these sub-

Jects, he deans it right to advert to what may be con-

sidered a culpable emission.13
The author must be twitting the author; whatever sins he may have
had, Melville was never guilty of Sparseness or humility in his
books. Burt this bit is not a joke as much as it is a statement of
conscious organization, and it must be considered doubly. First
of all, as Melville himself intimates, whenever we read the popular
travel books of the time, we find that the aspiring writer looking
for markets crammed his book with as much detail as possible.”
Yet in his utilization of event, Melville rejects the limitation
of factual and chronological exactness of detail, even though his
age considered him to be an anthrOpologist of sorts and an expert
concerning the Marquesas.” There can not be much argument that
Melville was necessarily concerned with the reception of his south
seas books as works of "ethnological value ," for after he was fully
aware of the reception of his two south seas books (mee and Omoo,
which were his most popular), he proceeded to write Mardi, a "south
seas” book which sacrificed ethnological detail of any kind what-

ever for th «as.

Secondly, if, as the Preface says, much detail has been

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deleted, the questions of what has been retained, and why, remain.
There are repeated instances wherein the Types natives are de-
scribed in pure animal imagery; Melville is willing to sacrifice
historical detail, and yet he is willing to make profuse reitera-
tion. There are many instances wherein.Melville repeats state—
:ments about the physical beauty of the islanders' bodies.
Repeatedly he reinforces the images of greenness and vegetative
luxuriance of the Types valley. In direct juxtaposition to these
reiterations, which occur systematically as "body" motifs, there
are repeated segments of motifs pertaining to western civiliza-
tion, religion, cultural relativism, consciousness-unconsciousness
and communication and isolation.

Whether we approach the book according to what has been de-
leted or according to what has been reinforced, the answer comes
out the same: we are ferced to the conclusion that Types must be
approached as a creative construct rather than as a haphazard
piece of reporting or a tale which is merely a picaresque adventure

The Preface says, "The conclusions deduced from these facts
[about the missionarieg7 are unavoidable, and in stating them the
author has been influenced by no feeling of animosity, either to
Athe individuals themselves or to that glorious cause which has not
always been served by the proceedings of some of its advocates."16
Melville has Just said that he has found it easy to avoid certain
other facts and details. ‘Yet not only in 22223 but in other books
we are to find charge after charge against the inhumanities of

“that glorious cause" of militant or coercive religion, with some

26.
animus reserved for the glory of the cause itself. So it seems
very clear that Melville's preface is a good liar: the craftsman
1933 select which of the "unavoidable facts" he will avoid.
Further, Melville says, "The great interest with which the im-
portant events lately occurring at the Sandwich, Marquesas, and
Society Islanis, have been regarded in America and England, and
indeed throughout the world, will, he trusts, justify a few other-
wise unwarrantable digressions."l7 Those "unwarrantable digres-
sions" turn out to be none other than parts of the theme of human

behavior in contrasting civilizations.

III

Melville adjusts the thematic progress of m as of all his
books by means of four basic techniques: The first, contrast, is
utilized to indicate the relationship between two Opposing worlds
or characters (as in the contrast of western and savage civiliza-
tions in the behavior of Mowanna's queen Juxtaposed upon the be-
havior of the French Commodore and officers during the military
review in the bay of Nukuheva) agar to introduce a new motif by its
sudden injection in relationship to one already deve10ped (as in
the mention of the green Marquesas immediately after a description
of the sterility of sea life).

The second, reinforcement, is the mere repetition of similar
details in order to create a motif, such as, say, isolation. The
reinforcement works hand in hand with contrast in order to create a
reflexivsnsss of detail in which the relationships of motifs are
athmbrated—and sometimes stated.

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27.
The third technique deveIOps out of the first two just as the
second develop from the first. This third technique of circular
reflexion, is the contrast and Joining of reinforced details so
that the last association suggests the first, closing the circuit
of relationships in a complete circle. For instance, after a
paragraph on the intricacies of the Types language, the narrator
adds:
The intricacy of these dialects is another peculiarity.
In the Missionary College at Lahainaluna, or Mawee, one
of the Sandwich Islands, I saw a tabular exhibition of
a Hawaiian verb, conjugated through all its moods and
tenses. It covered the side of a considerable apartment,
and I doubt whether Sir William Jones himself would not
have despaired of mastering it.]-9
Intricacy of dialects recalls the motiff of impossibility of com-
mnication, which in turn suggests isolation, which in turn recalls
the conflict of western and primitive worlds. The best examples
of this technique occur in 1_'l_a_r_d1_;. The effect of the technique can
best-be suggested by a metaphor, that of a set of facing mirrors
thich reflect an image backward and forward into nunberless, re-
ceding distances. And, as we shall see, as the books become more
complex, the patterns of images become alternately inverted, and
will represent in one book the opposite of that we have seen in
others. But the mirrors never change. To repeat, while patterns
’ of ilagery shift, relationships do not. This incremental rein-
forcement allows the critic to test his analysis at any given
moment by comparing his interpretation of a particular point in
the novel with all that has gone before and that comes after.

For instance, it is because of this tigxt reflexion that I do

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not think that Tomno's and Toby's descent into the valley can be
mde to symbolize man's Fall from grace because this theme is not
created within the rest of the novel itself?0 There is no pos-
terior or anterior use of the image of descent in connection with '
such a theme. As a statement of method, I may say that the test
for explication in this study has been a simple one: are the ex-
amples chosen refexively used, orare they not? the shuttling
back-and-forth of meaning which, in turn creates new levels of
meaning, all reflexive to each other and all related to the same
set of references which encloses them all in an expanding globe,
becomes the kind of entity which D. H. Lawrence hinted at when he
said that allegory is Mr. LookingéBoth-Ways, but that symbol is--
well, who can define Janus? It is also this Einsteinian "expand-
ing globe” of meaning which precludes the treatment of Melville's
writings on the level of allegory chiefly.

The fourth major technique is the multiple-view. A constant
is reacted to by different elements, and in the nultiple reaction
those elements reveal themselves. Taking the French as a constant"
created by direct statement of the narrator, we are shown the
natives in panic and submission to the French. There is revealed
here an implication about the relationships of two areas of ex-
istence in conflict. Then the technique of contrast imediately
shows the reaction of another westerner, Mrs. Pritchard, the
British Consul's wife, in her view of the French. The natives
respond in submission and bewilderment. Mrs. Pritchard responds in
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29.
French fleet. The natives are conquered. Mrs. Pritchard is un-
conquered. Part of the theme of cultural relationships emerges
here: consciousness versus unconsciousness ends in route; con-
sciousness versus consciousness ends in conflict and dominance
for whoever displays the greatest amount of will. Herein we is
completely adumbrative, for it is will that is the basis of the
quester's control of his crew or his fellows. Perhaps the best ex-
ample of this technique is the chapter in Iggy-M wherein the
crew members and Ahab study the dubloon nailed to the mast.
Revelations are made about every member, as well as about the
tension of the novel itself. Contrast, reinforcement, circular
reflexion all work in the mltiple—view; and just as one motif
grows from another, Just as one symbol revolves in related orbits
about all others, so the techniques themselves grow out of one
another and recall one another. Thus the art of Melville's fiction
becomes a self-generative thing, and it is this generation which
gives the reader the impression that he watches a mind drive toward
a conclusion that is determined and implied in the beginning. It
is the reason that Melville's books, as they expand thanatically
one from the other, can be treated at all as a deveIOpmental
totality, which, I am convinced, they are.

The double view not only makes disparate elements reveal them-
selves in that frozen moment of audience-perception which is one of
the bases of comedy (interestingly, Melville almost always unites
this technique with 93.3252): but it also draws the reader into the
progress of the narrative by forcing him, although he may never

realise it, into comparing and making ultimate judgments. The

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30.
drawing-in of the reader, however, depends upon a double view
whose components‘gill'be reinforced and explained on the narra-
tive level. When the components are in.themselves symbols which
have not, in some way, been stated on.ths narrative level, there
is not enough interest to maintain the reader's evaluative parti-
cipation. It is for this reason, I think, that many readers whom
I have known, readers who are acute and certainly not lazy, have
never been able to force themselves to complete a reading of
M32; 92.9.1.9 and if this reason is valid, the failure here is partly
Melville's. Strangely, in this area, 22225 succeeds better than
its later and nnch greater brother. The reader is immediately
related to the symbol by narrative, the simplest and first level
of contact, and perhaps unconsciously he is fbrced to a conscious
partaking in.the tensions of the book. What happens is that when
the reader makes judgments based upon the revelations occasioned
by the double-view, he also makes revelations about himself, and
the technique makes language's workings three dimensional: it
relates within the book in width and depth and also relates 933-
ggggl[,to the reader's consciousness. It is this combination of
techniques which is Melville's secret for his approach to that
which every creator seeks: a relationship between.artist and
viewer without which no work of art can be said to "succeed."
Like theme, then, this plunging of the reader into the work also
grows from.technique. The multiple view is what the other voyager,
Conrad, is to do later with point of view, wherein he filters ob-

jective action through two, three or feur intelligences. With

’ 31‘.

Melville the point of view'remains mostly constant, less complex,
for even during the multiple-view, perspective is fecused through
the sight of the narrator. The narrator never really loses con-
trol of perspective (even when the narrative center in M Rick,
for instance, shifts from Ishmael to Ahab) because he constantly
intrudes with directions for interpretation of the thematic state-
ments arising from action am dialogue. However, this narrator
is not as obtrusive as the typical narrator of nineteenth century
didactic literature, because either he himself has a stake in the
problems of the book and becomes an added complexity of character,
or else his directions and guides are themselves symbolic and re-
flexive to what must first be interpreted on its own terms. The
narrator's chief concern in guiding the readers perspective, howa
ever, always remains centered in.directing attention to theme
rather than to form. In Melville's books, form.and structure
become not a preoccupation for their own sake, but are the creators
of ”message" which is Melville's chief concern, and this is one of
the few points at which Melville is one with his literary age.21
Technique is neither intentional complexity pggugg_nor is it the
private complexity which degenerates into obscurantism. Neither
is it privatistic, for Melville uses the symbols of the society to
which he communicates.

The narrative level upon which contact between symbol and
reader exists is usually a double level. Melville invests the
incidents and Objects within the progression of the novel with

dichotonies.that always arise either from apposition of character

32.
to character, character to world, or world to world. In the later
books the facing mirrors of circular reflexion gives these
dichotomies dual interpretations from which arise the famous (and
to some critics infamous) ambivalences or ambiguities of Melville's
symbolic method. The task is simplified, however, by the simpli-
cities of m. The dichotomies exist almost in pure state in
this first book.

33.

NOTES

1. Unsigned review of H229.» ‘Ihe Harbinger, II (Aprili, 181.6),
263. I suspect the author is C. A. Dana.

 

2. HarbingerJ 266.

3. more is not much point in reapening the arguments about
the nineteenth century missionaries in Polynesia. After reading many
of the attacks and defenses, I am inclined to believe that Melville's
view was at least Justifiable and not necessarily limited to personal
animus. One interesting item, a letter from one B. R. Hawkins,
Honolulu, December 10, 181.9 to his father, Captain Esek Kawkins, Jr.,
of Lansingburgh, New York, sheds some light, but it is only one
item among many of divergent views' "...All that Melville ever told
about the missionaries in this part of the world, you may take for
gospel..." Quoted by William Gilman in "A Note on Herman Melville
in Honolulu," 5;, XIX (191.7), 169.

1.. In the final argument, I prefer to submit to the strongest
temptation and say that it does not matter. The themes themselves
are there substantially in the book.

5. For a discussion of the favorable public acceptance of
M93; see two articles by Charles Anderson, ”Contemporary American
Opinions of so and Omoo ” AL II (1937), 1-25; and "Melville's
English Dsbut, " 51;, XI (1939), 23-38. An earlier attempt at the
same kind of evaluation is 0. W. Riegel's "The Anatomy of Melville's
Fame!” 9}.» III (1931): 195-2030

6. For discussion of these critiques, see Anderson, "Melville's
finglish Debuts” and unsigned review of mes in Douglas Jerrold's
mugged”, III (April, 181.6), 380-383; and Daniel Aaron's
"Melville and the Missionaries, E33, VIII (1935), 1.04-1.08.

7. One good example is William Gilman's Melville's Early Life
and Redburn (New York, 1951).

8. New York, 1831 (2 vols.).

9. Thanas Russell, "Yarn for Melville's apes," 139‘, XV (1936),
27. .

10. For an excellent discussion of a artheid, see R. E. Wetters,
"Melville's 'Isolatoes'," PMLA, 1.x (191.5 , 113 411.8. In periodical
publication, Mr. Wetters' articles are as keen and insightful and
accurate as any that can be found and more so than most. See also,
"Melville’s 'Sociality', " _A_L_, XVII (191.5), 33-49; and "Melville' s
Metaphysics of Evil," Univ____,_ g_f Toronto 3‘.) IX (191.0), 170-180.

31..

ll. Datelined New York, July 22, 181.2. (Lemuel Shaw Collection,
Massachusetts Historical Society)

12. 988 (Oct. 3, 181.6), 1.19. This simple fact that the reviewers,
who were skilled in reading contemporary travelogue, were concerned
with Melville's authenticity (althought their concern want no deeper
than the question of vraisemblance) should provide the hint indirectly
that fact may have been altered and utilized for more than a report

by a "light-hearted raconteur of picaresque travel fiction."

13. ea. In Selected Writings__ of Roman Melville, Modern
Library ed. (New York, 1952). 457. This text is an artificial
assembly which makes it complete as any text available. The story
itself follows the text of the first, unexpurgated edition. It
appends the Sequel of the second American edition (it may be the
third American edition: see Bernard De Voto' s "Editions of mes ,"
LEE, V (1928), 1.06) and also the Appendix of the second English
edition. It is, therefore, inclusive. All references to we are
to this text.

11.. There is no doubt that Melville was received by his
contenporaries as just such an author. One review, correctly
groping for the secret of Melville 's selection of detail, and
incorrectly reckoning the extent and purpose of his art, summed
up an attitude thus: "Doubtless we shall hear more of the author's
advmtures [- this is a review of Omoo 7: -- for, though the
vraisemblance of history is well preserved, there are in the style
and about the narrative indications of romance that suggest a power
of prolonging these adventures to any extent for which a public
shall demand them.” (The Athenaeum, London, 1015 [ April 10, 18147,
381..) Recognizing the— difference of Melville's treatment of fact,

a friendly magazine, in a notice of Om__9__o said, "Treating as they do
on familiar tepics...that we thought—- had been exhausted by other
authors, we are agreeably delighted to find so much of what is
positively new in O__n_1___oo. 'lhere is a freshness and novelty in the
graphic sketches of society as it now exists in these islands, that
we look for in vein in the writings of other travellers. Mr. Melville
contrives to throw around his personal adventures all the interest
and chars of fictitious narrative. Once and m are actually
delightful romances of real life, enbellished with peters of
description, and a graphic skill of hitting off chamcters little
inferior to the highest order of novelist and ronance writers."
(Albion, New York, n.s., VI (May 8, 181.7), 228.

15. em. best study of Melville's books' authenticity in reporting
his stay in the Pacific is Charles Anderson's Melville _i_n_ th____e_ South
Seas (New York, 1939). Also, Robert S. Forsythe spent much—— time and
effort to prove that Melwille was in' the T'aipi valley for four
weeks rather than four months. After a painstaking tracing of the true
chronology of events, Mr. Forsythe concludes that u... Melville

35.

ccnfidmtly believed [that criticism] would seriously impair
the success of gzpee as a genuine narrative. The maintenance of
the credit of the volume as a true account of its author's
experiences seems to be the object of Melville's solicitude...
He rather innocently extended the tem of his stay among the
Typees in order to make his account more effective...And I do
not suppose...that the literary seaman, Herman Melville, was
deterred by any scruples concerning the veracity of a sailor's
mm from making his narrative more appealing or more dramatic
through taking liberties with the time involved in it." ("Hannah
Melville in the Marquesas," 39,, XV (1936), 1-15.’)

Arthur Stedman, in a review of Melville ("Melville of
Marquesas,"Review 9_f_‘_ Reviews, IV [1891], 1.28-1.30) which appeared
two months after Melville's death, said, "A reference to fines as
'llelville's Marquesas Islands' under which title the book first
appeared in England actually this was the title of the second,
«purgated edition , was given in the Popular Science Monthly as
recently as two weeks before the author's death, and shows the
ethnological value of the work.” (1.29.)

16. m 1.58.
17. mg, 1.58.
13. m, 171-2.
19. mg. 71.1..
20. so. below,

21. What Croce said of De Sanctis'gistorz 91 Italian Literature
can be said of Melville: "Form for De Sanctis was not the 'fom'
pathologically felt by aesthetes and decadents: it was nothing else
than the entire resolution of the intellectual, sentimental, and
emotional material into the concrete reality of the poetic image and
word, which alme has aesthetic value." Quoted by F. 0. Matthiessen,
American Rehaissance (New York, 1941)..

CHAPTER II

TYPEE

Immediately after an extended passage on the barrenness of

sea-life, a new passage begins with this:

The Mhrquesasl What strange visions of outlandish
things does the very name spirit up! Naked houris~—
cannibal banquets--groves of cocoa-nut-coral reefs-
tatooed chiefs-and bamboo temples; sunny valleys planted
with bread-fruit-trees-—carved canoes dancing on the
flashing blue waters-~savage woodlands guarded by horri~
ble idols-sheathenish rites and human sacrifices.1

Not only are the land images in direct Opposition to the sea
images which opened the book, but they all concentrate on two
facets of the Polynesian life which fills the book: one is the
physicalality and fertility of Marquesan life, the other is the

italicizing of the primitive qualities, barbaric enough to serve

as an image of the most basic, pristine human life. The Marquesas g:

are the very beginnings and first curve in the human life cycle:

The group for which we were now steering (although among
the earliest of European discoveries in the South Seas,
having first been visited in the year 1595) still con-
tinues t3 be tenanted by beings as strange and barbarous
as ever.

Types, which is set off yet further even from.this primitive group
of peoples, becomes-hy the narrator's insistence upon its isola-

tion.and lack of intercourse with other peoplesv-the delineated

37.
symbol, the laboratory test case,.from which is universalized a
.statement about man's primitive life of nature in general. The
sea, as that part of the dichotomy Opposed to primitive land-life,
is representative of consciousness and quest, especially as in-
troduced by western civilization, and it is presented in a
picture of sterility. The single-level existence of western con-
sciousness is given the characteristic of sterility in.much the
same way that the quester of the later books is sterile. The
opposition of this to fertility and sheer animaldvegetable level
of'Typee existence is the fundamental tension in_§ypgg both in
theme and in the rising action of the conflict. In zypgg the
missionaries play the same role as do the French. They represent
a unilevel value of conquest which clashes with the unilevel value
of blissful animal existence led by the islanders. For convenienxn
and to define terms, I have grouped the two opposing factions into
divisions of "head" or "mind," and "body" which tOp their lists of
related.mdnor'motifs as given in the following simplification:
Head, Mind (WESTERN CIVILIZATION) Body (MARQUESAS,

1. little heart 1. much heart ESPECIALLY TYPEE)

l. conquest l. submission or ultimate doom

2. quest,.mobility 2. staticity, immobility

3. consciousness 3. unconsciousness

ho sterility 0f environment A. fertility of environment

5. sea 5. land

6. communication with 6. inability to communicate
outside world with outside world

7. inability to communicate 7. spontaneous, childlike,
with Types meaningless chatter'among

8. sparse food, little sleep, selves
technology 8. physical gratification,

9e planning, scheming, foresight scumolence, primitivism
10. attempt to conquer natural9. spontaneity of animal spirits
environment 10. integration with natural

11. artificiality, complexity' environment . .
ll. naturalness, SimpliCity

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What Melville has to do, once the oppositions are settled
upon, is to tie the narrative level of action to the symbolism of
the motifs, and this he does in 1.11222 as in all of his books:
through the plight of the protagonist and the observations of the
narrator. Melville must first indicate the relationship of the
narrator to both sea and land. Tommo Opens his observations with
a wish to be rid of the sea. He follows this up immediately with
observations about the land. When he thinks of the sunny valleys
planted with bread-fruit groves and of the heathenish rites, he
immediate]: says, "Such were the strangely jumbled anticipations
that haunted me during our passage from the cruising ground. I
felt an irresistable curiosity to see those islands which the
olden voyagers had so glowingly described."3 He is in a state
startlingly similar to that of Ishmael, who, before he set foot
on the m, was haunted by the image of a humped and hooded
phantom like a snow-hill in the air. Compulsively, he is drawn
beforehand to the objects of tension before the particulars of
that tension are introduced either to him or the reader. However
tempting Tom is as an example of the isolato with a driving
predisposition, this discussion must await our meeting Taji,
Melville's first real quester.

Tomo offers a legalistic argument for abandoning ship. Al-
though the picture he gives of the captain and the conditions
aboard ship is part of the thread of deceit which runs throughout
the book, the legalities are to be treated here as inoperative

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Jumping ship, the legal niceties have nothing to do with the
realities of Tom's desires or the consequences of his actions.
Tommo is offering a surface rationalization, and his argmnent
only touches upon its strongest basis-«the simpler and more ele-
mental urge for reintegration in the animal and vegetable aspects
of human life. The deceit of the captain has reduced Tommo's
living situation to the business of elementary survival, where
each man must realize that his own future is contingent upon his
own choices and actions under a despotism far removed from the
western civilization where pglite deceits are necessary to the
maintenance of that civilization. But before Types is introduced,
life for Tomo has already been reduced to the most elementary
terms:

[The captain' g7 prompt reply to all complaints and re-

monstrances was-the butt end of a handspike, so con—

vincingly administered as effectually to silence the

aggrieved party.

To whom could we apply for redress? We had left
both law and equity on the other side of the Cape; and
unfortunately, with a very few exceptions, our crew
Ins composed of a parcel of dastardly and mean-spirited
wretches, divided among themselves, and only united in
enduring without resistance the mitigated tyranny of
the captain.“

Obviously the legalities of Town's argument do not apply. They
are only an appearance, and the need to change worlds is the
reality. 80 the course of the book's actions is implied before
the action begins. The end of the book, vdth Tommo back at sea,
but with a different level of realization, imparts a spiral struc-

ture to the book's form. Tommo rejects and escapes from the

ahumanity of quest (the sea, whaling) and the inhumanity of western

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man (the dominance of the captain) in order to submerge himself in
a reintroduction to humanity in the unconsciousness of its very
beginnings (Typee). At the end he is to reject the limitations of
Typee and return to his western world of actualities and quest.

But wlw does Tommo abandon his own world in the first place?
The very first chapter introduces a note of parched living which
is devoid of any of those aspects of nature which are necessary
for life on the animal or vegetable levels. A foreshadowing of
Melville's view of the sea as the home of the deep questings and
yeamings of the human mind—questings and yeamings which will be
equated with suicide and murderwis implicit in the imagery. There
may be food for the mind in the ocean (this theme is not developed
in me), but there is no food for the completeness of life which
includes the human body and the human heart. The subheadings be-
gin, ”The Sea—Longings for Shore—A Land-Sick Ship...“ and the
introductory paragraph continues the motif: ”Six months at sea!...
six months out of sight of land...the sky above, the sea around,
and nothing else! Weeks and weeks ago our fresh provisions were
all exhausted. There is not a sweet potato left; not a single
yam. Those glorious bunches of banannas which once decorated our
stern and quarter-deck have, alas, disappeared! and the delicious
oranges vhich hung suspended from our tops and stays—they, too,
are gone] Yes, they are all departed, and there is nothing left
us but salt-horse and sea-bisquit."5 The very food of life of-
fered at sea is equated with departure from land and world. Tommo

describes the prodigious preparations for sailing, during which

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41:
quantities of stale bread, poor meat and roachy water are stored
in the hold; and as long as the stores last, the ship remains at
sea.

But not to speak of the quality of these articles of
sailors' fare, the abundance in which they are put on
board a whaling vessel is almost incredible. Often-
times, when we had occasion to break out in the hold,
and I beheld the successive tiers of casks and barrels,
whose contents were all destined to be consumed in due
$21.15” by the ship's company, 1w heart has sunk within
Imediately following this is a story about the good ship
Perseverance, whose skipper simply touched at port for food and
then headed back to whaling grounds. The ship became a tangible
Flying Dutchman, always questing, never returning to world and
time. Moreover, Tommo adds, even the meals of salt-pork and sea-
biscuit are scanty so that the stores will last longer.
At the outset Tome rejects sea and quest and sterility.
"Is there nothing fresh around us? Is there no green thing to be
seen? Yes, the inside of our bulwarks is painted green; but what
a vile and sickly hue it is, as if nothing bearing even the sem-
blance of verdure could flourish this weary way from land.”
What the sea tells us at the beginning of m is that like
the world of body, this life of quest and mind as limited to a
monotone existence is a cannibal life. It fattens off its Oppo-
site manber, the land world. In its exploitation and scorn of
the more elementary levels of natural, animal living, it kills
and devours, sucking life and sustenance from land. The spoila-

tion and cannibalim are introduced directly after Tommo bewails

the lack of

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the lack of green things. "Even the bark that once clung to the
wood we use for fuel has been gnawed off and devoured by the
captain's pig; and so long ago, too, that the pig himself has in
turn been devoured."8 Tome and Toby, when they fight and conquer
nature in their struggle to reach the secluded valley life, must
also live, like the pig, on the bark they can chew off twigs: the
provisions and foresights of the western man do not _w_9__r_lg in Typeean
nature. The natives also rape nature, but nature willingly allows
the defloration. Her Typeean seducers never attempt to conquer
her. The 99H, however, like the Perseverance will continue to
sail until the last symbol of land and animal life, Pedro the
master, is devoured—and then the ship will touch land again,
taking from it the provisions for life which it never replaces in
the eternal cycles of growth.

This kind of single-level existence represents the world of
western civilization. All the men who come to the Marquesas from
the sea are alien. They are always whalers, traders, conquerers;
they are always Frenchmen, Englishmen, Americans, and they come to
exploit either the resources of the waters or the peoples or the
land. They display behavior values which become represented by a
restless quest for conquest, a quest summed up on the philosophical
level by Taji and Ahab and on the narrative level in meg by the
missionaries and Admiral Du Petit Thouars. Totally, this quest is
the attempt to extend human power, by means of will and mind and
the fruits of will and mind, over all of creation. The basic

tension in m forecasts the later books to come from Melville's

21: 1"."
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1+3.
pen.

In m mind is objectified in the physical object of the
hulan head, just as mindlessness is objectified in the human body.
Reflefivelyaminor motif is used interchangeably with its major
heading, so that when a particular of human behavior is mentioned
an entire world is recalled by that one particular. The Typees,
on the other hand, are always feasting, and the basis of their
meals is a combination of freshly cooked fresh fruits and vegeta-
bles, or freshly killed and freshly roasted pork. Melville
develops the land-sea dichotonw painstakingly, making motifs even
out of such things as food and sleep.

When the alien western sailors approach the vicinity of the
Marquesas, the "mindishness" of technology and sea-consciousness
also become alien and are lulled into virtual disappearance.
Animal existence and somnolence become the order of the day.

We abandoned the fore—peak altogether, and spreading an
awning over the forecastle, slept, ate, and lounged
under it the live-long day. Eyery one seemed to be
under the influence of some narcotic. Bren the officers
aft. whose duty required them never to be seated while
keeping a deck watch, vainlyfifendeavored to keep on their

pins 1 and were obliged invariably to compromise the
matter by leaning up against the bulwarksgLand gazirg

abstractedgpver the side. Reading was out of the
question; take a book in your hand. and you were asleep
in an instant}; (Italics mine.)

The tokens of somolence are not the only characteristics of
Types. Melville finds that arw isolated position, be it that of
body or mind, or heart is untenable. Land in itself is not to be
equated with safety—lows Melville of a story like "The Lightning.

Red Man," for instance, envisions the inevitability of fate as

“a
equally unbradng whether one is in a howling on-shore gale or in
the comfort of his easy chair. And particularly, in terms of
Types existence, the lumry of land and body alone is bloody
mrdecr, a process or rot, and a practice of cannibalism. The
first visible signs of land, almost immediately contrasted with
somnolence, are the sea fowl led by "That piratical-looking
fellow, appmpriately named the man-of-war's hawk, with his blood-
red bill and raven plumage..."n The land is also corrupted by
the invasion of inapplicable western mores.12 The first human
he comes aboard ship from the land combines both blind uncon-
sciousness and the effect of the conflict of the two worlds. He
is a drunken old vagabond who "was utterly unable to stand erect
or to navigate his body across the deck," yet he is what mind has
imposed upon body. He is the man civilization has appointed to
navigate the microcosm of an entire world into commanication with
another. He is the official pilot of the bay of Nukuheva! 1
Caught between both worlds, man suffers the ravaging attacks of
both when he is integrated with neither. This is not to be the
first time that Melville will suggest that the Oppressor becomes
more debased than the oppressed he debases. The process becomes
an inevitability which no one can escape except by application of
the realizations of cultural relativism and human brotherhood.13
The natives are represented, in their debased condition, as victims
not to be held accountable for the visitation of sin; as in their
relationship with nature, their agency in relation to the world of
mini is passive, not active. ioreover, the natives never had the

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45.
civilization, corrupted and vitiated as it now is. They are in-
troduced not in.any connection.with deep-sea ships, but in the
bringing of vegetables and animal gratification. The Typeeans
are as much at home in the water as on land, but this is an indi-
cation of integration with physical nature rather than an indica-
tion of quest. Their water is land-locked lake or inland stream,
it is not sea. The Typees prefer sea—fish and sea-salt and sea-
weed as the three unusual delicacies they prize above all else.
Yet Te-o emphasizes his surprise that for some reason excursions
to the sea for these abundant delicacies are surprisingly rare.
Human, who more in‘gypgg than in any other Melville book, are
representatives of land and land values (particularly "body" and
safety) are not permitted by native taboo to enter a canoe. It is
Tommo the western alien who effects the beginning dissolution of
native order by effecting the change which allows his mistress
thaway to break the taboo.

The natives are creatures of a world of values wherein there
is no Opposition of head and body; they are introduced in complete
terms of body. The male natives swim up to the lelz surrounded
by rings of floating coconuts. The two features of this -picture
presented.by the narrator are that at first the hggdg of the
natives are indistinguiShabls from.coconuts, and that the ggg_of
the head is-to physically push the coconuts through the water.
The native females are at first indistinguishable from so many
shoals of fish, and when they climblout of'the water, they are

described in terms reminiscent of frolicking, cavorting animals.

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The total action, description and effect is that of body and the

interaction of the two worlds is concluded in a manner prepared by
the introduction of the drunken old pilot:

We were still some distance from the beach, and under
slow headway, when we sailed right into the midst of
these swimming mphs, and they boarded us at every
quarter; many seizing hold of the chain-plates and
springing into the chains; others, at the peril of being
run over by the vessel in her course, catching at the
bob—stays, am wreathing their slender forms about the
rOpes, hung suspended in the air. All of them at length
succeeded in getting up the ship's side, where they hung
dripping with the brine and glowing from the bath, their
Jet-black tresses streaming over their shoulders, and
half envelOping their otherwise naked forms. There they
hung, sparkling with savage vivacity, laughing gaily at
one another, and chattering away with infinite glee.

Nor were they idle the while, for each one performed the
simple offices of the toilette for the other. Their
luxuriant locks, wound up and twisted into the smallest
possible compass, were freed from the briny element;

the whole person carefully dried, and from a little round
shell that passed from hand to hand, anointed with a
fragrant oil: their adornments were completed by passing
a few loose folds of white tappa, in a modest cincture,
around the waist. Thus arrayed they no longer hesitated,
but flung thanselves lightly over the bulwarks, and were
quickly frolicking about the decks. Many of them went
forward, perching upon the head-rails or running out
upon the bowsprit, while others seated themselves upon
the taffrail, or reclined at mu length upon the boats.
What a sight for us bachelor sailors! how avoid so dire
a temptation? For who could think of tumbling these
artless creatures overboard, when they had swam @137
miles to welcome us?

Their appearance perfectly amazed me; their extreme
youth, the light clear brown of their complexions, their
delicate features, and inexpressibly graceful figures,
their softly mounlded limbs, and free unstudied action,
seemed as strange as beautiful.

The 'Dolly' was fairly captured; and never I will
say was vessel carried before by such a dashing and
irresistible party of boarders: The ship taken, we could
not do otherwise than yield ourselves prisoners, and for
the whole period that she remained in the bay, the
'Dolly' , as well as her crew, were completely in the
hands of the mermaids.

Inthe evening after we had come to anchor the deck

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was illuminated with lanterns, and this picturesque
band of sylphs, tricked out with flowers, and dressed
in robes of variegated tappa, got up a ball in great
style. These females are passionately fond of dancing,
and in the wild grace and Spirit of their style excel
everything that I have ever seen. The varied dances of
the Marquesan girls are beautiful in the extreme, but
there is an abandoned voluptuousness in their character
which I dare not attempt to describe.

(hr ship was now wholly given up to every species
of riot and debauchery. Not the feeblest barrier was
interposed between the unholy passions of the crew and
their unlimited gratification. The grossest licentious-
ness and the most shameful inebriety prevailed, with
occasional and but short-lived interruptions, through
the whole period of her stay. Alas for the poor savages
when exposed to the influence of these polluting ex-
amples}. Unsophisticated and confiding, they are easily
led into every vice, and humanity weeps over the ruin
thus remorselessly inflicted upon them by their Eur0pean
civilizers. Thrice happy are they who, inhabiting some
yet undiscovered island in the midst of the ocean, have
never been broug'lt into contaminating contact with the
white man. ’

The crew surrmders to the savage which is in all men, and
the savage in the civilized character is not purity as it is in
the natives. What Typee represents is not peculiar to the
Marquesas alone; it becomes a universal for all men. Typee is
isolated not because it is different, but because it serves as an
unvitiated sample of the universal. The Marquesans are the epi-
to'le of unsophisticated confidence, and they are doomed in pure
and isolated state. It is only a matter of time until the French
have their trOOps and gunboats on the lovely bay and valley, and
that has been presented in the extended quote above will occur all
over again.

In the purity of Types terms, the main tasks of body seas to
be the avoidance of conflict and the integration with nature. For

Ahab, in his departure from nature, the area of conflict is imaged

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in the depths of the ocean. For Pierre, in his departure from
nature, the area of conflict is epitomized in the scaling of the
mountain. The Typees scarcely go to ocean or mountain. Conflict
is in ocean, whence come intruders and invaders, and is in moun—
tain, where there is none of the nature which gives sustenance
anilwhere there is the chance to meet death and hostile tribesmen.
The Types existence is so diametrically Opposed to conflict,
quest and consciousness that its limitations preclude aw hOpe of
human aspiration in western terms. "The mountainous tracts which
separated their respective territories remain altogether uninhabit-
ed; the natives invariably dwelling in the depths of the valleys,
with a view of securing themselves from the predatory incursions
of their enemies, who often lurk along their borders...I several
times met with very aged men, who from this cause had never passed
the confines of their‘ native vale, some of them having never even
ascemled midway up the mountains in the whole course of their
lives, and who, accordingly, had little idea of the appearance of
any other part of the island, the whole of which is not perhaps
more than sixtymiles in circuit. The little space in which some
of these clans pass away their days would seem almost incrediblefly
When the contrasts in $22.29. are scrutinized, it becomes more ap-
parent that the book is the natural starting point for themes which
will illuminate men who would see and know not only all the known
world, but the infinities beyond it.

The Typees have very little use for infinities. Earth and

body are their whole domain. Tommo reiterates his descriptions of

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the wholeness, wholesomeness and unmarred magxificence of the
islanders' bodies, and in contrast, the conscious and injured
isolate describes the "mindlessness" of the islarders. They can-
not conmunicate with or understand the rest of humanity from which
they are isolated. They can hear news from outlying valleys only
through the agency of itinerant and taboo "communicados" like
Marnoo and Jim. They can not even talk the language of the
representatives of consciousness, nor can those representatives
Wmtand the Types tongue. When the Typees talk-as they always
do chatter chatter chatter-it is always spontaneous , unplanned,
childlike and inconsequential. The only meaningful, or important
communication is always in terms of continued isolation, protection
and withdrawal, as then the human telegraph system of natives
shouting from tree to tree, from the beach to the inmost glen of
the vallq, announces invasion from either mountain or sea. Always,
wept in its own, primitive terms inapplicable to Tommo's life,
Types can neither see, talk, nor hear; it is mindless and blind.
When Tome does escape to the sea, his greatest Opposition comes
from a warrior chief, Mow Mow, who is characterized by a gigantic
and powerful bow and by the fact that he has—only one eye. 0n
the other hard, the leader of the faction which would allow Tommo
to leave unhamed is old Marheyo, who, with his daughter Fayaway,
are among the few Typees who understand Tommo's plight to the point
of compassion. It is true that others (Mehevi, the chief, and Kory
Kory, the valet) also have affection for Tommo, but when the values

of Types conflict with Tomo's values, these others refuse Tommo's

50.
wishes, with few exceptions. When they do grant his wishes it is
because they believe that his injured body will nuke him inef-
factual in the attainment of his goals. Fayaway has pity for
Tome because she is his lover. But it is Marheyo who has the
compassion of understanding, and he is the only native aware that
there may be in non-Typeean worlds values which also have claim
upon humn behavior. When Tomno tries to escape, Marheyo leads
those who see Tommo as a human being—thq have been able to make
that such of an extension beyond their own world. Those who wish
to head Tommo off see him from the ahuman perspective of a single,
isolated world. They want him for sacrifice. To them, Tommo is
not a human being, he is an object of cannibal rites. The priests
and Mow-Mow shout the word Roo-nel Boo-net, which-in its effect
upon Tome—must be a reference to cannibalistic ritual which
Tome met not be allowed to escape. "In the midst of this

tumlt old Marheyo came to my side, and I shall never forget the
benevolent expression of his countenance. He placed his arm upon
an shoulder, and emphatically pronounced the only two English
words I had taught him—'Home' and 'Mother' . I at once understood
what he meant, and eagerly expressed my thanks to him."16 Marheyo
is suddenly the only Typeean who can enter any communication in
the tongue of the alien, and this point of departure from Typee is
the only time in the entire book that he does speak the words he
know or that the reader knows of Marheyo's ability. The Typeean
Marheyo of the Typeean social group could not have been at all

sentimental or lugubrious in his evocation of home and mother—an

51.
entire chapter was devoted to pointing out that family relationp
ships among the Typees were extremely loose and flexible, and that
house were only houses, Open to all. It is all of Types and Types
gggz.that is home to the Typeeans.

Harheyo's sorrow when he takes leave of Tommo represents
many'things. His loss of Tommo is on the literal level the loss
of a friend and a son. His loss of Tommo is also a yielding to
consciousness, and is a realization of doom. The world moves on
beyond Types, and here is the first intimation fbr Marheyo that
there may be greater areas of being which impinge upon Typee. The
loss of Tommo becomes a barely shadowed realization of’the loss of
comfortable mindlessness. As in the climax.of all.Melville novels,
important characters and incidents take on added significance in
the suddenly quickened tumble of events, and here Marheyo, a
harmlessly puttering old savage who does not even have the techno-
logy to build a tiny hut, almost becomes a figure of transition.
Marheyo and Fayaway, in their tearful aid to Tommo's escape, cast
off’the isolation of body and mind only because they realize the
claims of and their isolation from.a larger, predatory outside
world that kills their desires. Tommo's recognition of their
actions and love is in the form.of a reward. He gives them, and
Kory Kory, his faithful valet, the cloth and musket which was to be
used by his deliverers to ransom him. But he does reject the single
level of Types existence which shouts "Roo—ne" rather than "Home"
and "Mother," and he must yet make the physical act of will which

is active renunciation before his deliverance is complete. How:Mow

 
  
    

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52.
swims out to the boat in which Tommo escapes in order to capsize
the vessel. Melville could not have chosen a better representa—
tive as the last real obstacle between Tommo and a new change of
worlds.

After a few breathless moments I discerned Mow-Mow.
The athletic islander, with his tomahawk between his
teeth, was dashing the water before him till it foamed
again. He was the nearest to us, and in another in-
stant he would have seized one of the oars. Even at
the moment I felt horror at the act I was about to
connnit; but it was no time for pity or compunction,
and with true aim, and exerting all cw strength, I
dashed the boat—hook at him. It struck him just below
the throat, and forced him downwards."17
Tomo's action of will is an acutely conscious action, rather than
a merely physical action. At the height of action he weighs
worlds and action, compassion or boat-hooks. He is aware of his
horror—his action is not spontaneous on every level as is that
of the islanders. Also, by this time, Tommo's bad leg had almost
made him a cripple, in contrast to the "athletic idlander" who
opposed him, but the excitement of conscious will overcomes his
disabilities. "The strong excitement which had thus far kept me
up, now left me, and I fell back fainting into the eras of Kara-
koes."18 Clearly, what Tommo rejects here is the isolato, or at
least the symbol of that which isolates. His horror is on the
personal level of human action, a level on which Mow-Mow could not
conceivably exqaerience such an auction relating to Tommo. What
makes Melville's meaning eSpecially clear is the clinching detail
of Tom's salvation. He is rescued finally, not by a Typeean,

not even Marhsyo or Fayaway. He is saved by Karakoee, a tabooed

53.
cosmnicado, who can commicate with both worlds.

Communication and isolation, as shaped by the literal charac-
teristics of Marquesan geography, is concentrated in the story of
Tomo's and Toby's attempt to reach an inland valley of Nukuheva.
The secondary character in these chapters (VI-IX) is nature, who
battles the intruders every inch of the way. On the other hand,
the captain of the le_ly had offered rewards to the natives for
the capture of the two renegade sailors. Tommo and Toby were
doubly isolated. The individual who attanpts a transfer of worlds
is met with rebuffs on every hand. The new world to which he
flees will not have him (and when it does, it must be uncondi-
tional surrenisr), and the world from which he flees will not let
him go.19

Tommo and Toby have brought some slight provisions with them,
Int these provisions turn out to be almost useless in the new
environment. The net result of the escape is that Tommo is hurt
in bow-u-body which is the only meaning of the world to which he
flees. To hurt the body is the only weapon of that world; in the
new world Tomo's consciousness is not only of no help, but it is
a danger. Whenever he begins to feel a sharp awareness of his
isolation in Types, whenever he longs to return to his own world,
at that moment Melville always reintroduces the injured leg, which
becomes more and acutely inflamed. The failure of Tommo's body is
symbolic of his entire plight. The changeling is the isolato and
can count on no sustmance awwhere. This adumbration in 3X22? is

cast in deeper, longer and blacker shapes in Pierre, and is one of

 

 

54.
the keys to an understanding of that book. The world is not in-
tegrated, and when man who is conditioned to exist in one segment
tries to transfer to another, every segment (valuing its own
ethics more than any others), all the world unites only in the
act of turning against him. Tommo's plight sounds the call to
integration. Body needs consciousness (Tommo can strike a Lucifer
match, but Kory-Kory unst struggle to produce a flame) and con-
sciousness needs body (Kory-Kory must carry Tommo) lest man.be-
cons an invalid in the world of animal nature or a childlike
animal in.the world of the human mind. Suicide is dual: it is
visited upon society by the individual when he tries to reinform
~the world in the image of his own individual disintegration, and
it is visited upon the individual by the world because the dis-
joined world itself tries to deny border-crossing. I believe that
it is this which is the thematic stimulus fer Melville's insistence
upon.universal brotherhood, cultural relativism, and social demoe—
racy.20 These considerations and their intricacies must await the
later books, but in 22223 we have the beginnings of the dualized
dichotomies. In.szgg,the duality is best realized in the scene
wherein Admiral Du Petit Thouars, western conqueror of the Marqe-
sans, meets the chief of the natives of Tior, which clan.has just
capitulated to the French.

It so happened that the very day I was in Tior the
French admiral, attended by all the boats of his squadron,
came down in state from Nukuheva to take formal posses-

sion of the place. He remained in the valley about two

hours, during which time he had a ceremonious interview
with the king.
The patriarch-sovereign of Tior was a man very far

55..

advanced in years; but though age had bowed his form
and rendered him almost decrepid, his gigantic frame
retained all its original magnitude and grandeur of
appearance. He advanced slowly and with evident pain,
assisting his tottering steps with the heavy war-spear
he held in his hand, and attended by a group of grey—
bearded chiefs, on one of whom he occasionally leaned
for support. The admiral came fOrward with head un-
covered and extended hand, while the old king saluted
him.hy a stately flourish of his weapon. The next
moment they stood side by side, these two extremes of
the social scale,-the polished, splendid Frenchman,
and the poor tattooed savage. They were both tall and
noble-looking men; but in other respects how strikingly
contrasted! Du Petit Thouars exhibited upon his person
all the paraphernalia of his naval rank. He wore a
richly decorated admiral's frodk—coat, a laced chapeau
bras, and upon his breast were a variety of ribbons and
orders; while the simple islander, with the exception
of a slight cincture about his loins, appeared in all
the nakedness of nature.

At what an immeasurable distance, thought I, are
these two beings removed from.each other. In the one
is shown the result of long centuries of progressive
civilization and refinement, which have gradually cone
verted the mere creature into the semblance of all that
is elevated and grand; while the other, after the lapse
of the same period, has not advanced one step in the
career of improvement. "Yet, after all," quoth I to
maelf, "insensible as he is to a thousand wants, and
removed from harassing cares, may not the savage be the
happier man of the two?" Such were the thoughts that
arose in.my'mind as I gazed upon the novel spectacle
before me. In truth it was an impressive one, and little
likely to be effaced. I can recall even now with vivid
distinctness every feature of the scene. The umbrageous
shades where the interview took p1ace-the glorious
trOpical vegetation around--the picturesque grouping of
the mingled throng of soldiery and natives—-and even the
golden-hued bunch of banannas that I held in my hand at
the time, and of which I occasionally partook while
making the afbresaid philosOphical reflections.21

What is important here is not the flip phiIOSOphy about the
undressed savage as a happier man than.the beribboned admiral.
This bow to the cult of the ndble savage is partly serious, partly--
'mostlyh—tongue in cheek, not only in the context of Tommo's total

relations with the savages, but even in the context of the very tone

of Lie pas
under the *
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56.
of the passage—which is always a good clue from I—ielville.2;2 Tonmo
chews banannas mile he philOSOphizes; he is not greatly bowed
under the weight of his thought. What 2232 emerge from this pas-
sage is the total image of the contrast again, the two disjoined
seguents of the world under analysis at the moment. The duality
makes a statement about more than the relationships between the
civilised and uncivilized world. There is a contrast between the
Englishman Paulet (which is somewhat extrinsic, appearing in the
Appendix, 778 ff.) and the French Thouars. The Appendix continues
the theme of impingement of worlds. Paulet introduces civiliza-
tion to primitivism in terns of the primitive world which is to be
affected—he attempts to understand, not merely control this aspect
of human existence. Thouars and the missionaries prove that con-
trol without understanding is not control, but chaos. It is a
denial of the very consciousness which made control possible. It
is merely a transposing of the technology and mores of the western
world to a world which cannot cow with it, and it becomes a mirror
of civilization? s basic sin. Control mst deny mere conquest and
utilize human consciousness for M goals—as early as $213.29.
there is insight into the horror of 2113331 Rick and the limited
triumph of fig; 311392. 12293 hints that the complete human being
met not dew the Types within him its rigit to autonomous ex-
istence; rahter he rust shape it and utilize it (the emphasis should
be on utilization) by means of civilization, by means of the cul-
Mntive and cumulative racial consciousness of all of mankind. In

a most basic sense, then, the natives are not divorced from western

o.’ the pas
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met the 1
sage is 2:4
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56.
of the passageuwhich is always a good clue from Melville.22 Tommo
chews banannas while he philosophizes; he is not greatly bowed
under the weight of his thought. What dogs emerge from this pas-
sage is the total image of the contrast again, the two disjoined
segments of the world under analysis at the (moment. The duality
makes a statement about more than the relationships between the
civilised and uncivilized world. There is a contrast between the
Englishman Paulet (which is somewhat extrinsic, appearing in the
Appetdiz, 778 ff.) and the French Thouars. The Appendix continues
the theme of impingement of worlds. Paulet introduces civiliza-
tion to primitivism in terms of the primitive world which is to be
affected—he attempts to understand, not merely control this aspect
of human existence. Thouars and the missionaries prove that con-
trol without understanding is not control, but chaos. It is a
denial of the very consciousness which made control possible. It
is merely a transposing of the technolog and mores of the western
world to a world whidl cannot cOpe with it, and it becomes a mirror
of civilisation! s basic sin. Control mst deny mere conquest and
utilize human gentsciousness for M goals—.as early as 1199—9
there is insight into the horror of M 93.93 and the limited
triumph of gig 21513. m2! hints that the complete human being
met not deny the Typee within him its rigit to autonomous ex-
istence; rahter he rust shape it and utilize it (the emphasis should
be on utilization) by means of civilization, by means of the cul-
minative and cumlative racial consciousness of all of mankind. In

a most basic sense, then, the natives are not divorced from western

 

     

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57.
man. The reader is allowed to pick up and weave in its prOper
place the implication created by the suggestion that the crew of
every western ship displays a kind of Typeeism, and by Tommo's
description of the Typees in terms which are obviously intended
to make them universal. The young men lounge around trying to
avoid work. They are interested in weapons, athletics and girls.
The girls are interested in cosmetics and flirtatious. The men
at the bachelor quarters are interested in eating, smoking, talk-
ing current events and general men's talk. The description of
Tinor is the description of any good middle-class Lansingburg or
Album or New York or Berkeshire housewife-—although, in con-
formity with the life symbolized by Types, Tommo takes care to
point out that old Tinor is the only hard worker in the valley'.
Melville describes characteristics in these instances as typical
not of natives ~particularly, but as typical of their youth, their
sex, their marital status, their office. Except on the literal,
narrative level, the Typeean does not emerge as a segment of
savagery unconnected with the you's and me's of Melville's and
Tommo's other world. Symbolically he emerges as that part of all
men which is unconsciousness, which is comfortable but which is
ultimately nurderous. Like the life of the sea-ship, it too robs
land for sustenance, although on a different level and in a dif-
ferent way. The Typeean never plants or plans, never enters into
conflict with nature in order to grasp the control over the world
which the quest figure constantly seeks. There are times when the

breadfruit trees do not bear food, and only the stored fruits of

fast crop-s a:

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past crops sustain the natives in those times—or else they go
hungry. This unconsciousness is a luxury which can be afforded
in the limited area of existence wherein man can allow himself to
be submissively integrated with nature. Like Tommo's legal argu-
ments at the beginning of the book, the unconsciousness is in-
applicable. It is a fortuitous thing, like the Typeean attributes
of Mrs. Glendinning's riches. The unconsciousness is necessary
to the functions of (body and is a necessary part of man's relation
to nature-4 part which cannot be omitted in a successful rela-
tionship. But this unconsciousness is at war with consciousness
ard conflict and aspiration.

In his praise of the islanders and their happiness, and to
the extent that he insists upon a human integ'ation with physical
nature, Melville agreed with the Rousseauism that appeared in so
mam modified and contradictory forms during the era of the trans-
cendentalists. But his agreement is not a back-to-nature movement
by an means. Nor is it a doctrine in agreement with Thoreau in
its insistence that cultivation of body must not preclude cultiva-
tion of mind. Melville's area of concern is that of 393331} inte-
gration; given that, the cosmic will follow-«at least for man.
Tschnoloy is not forgotten. The integration of western world
and south seas mist result in a unified world of healthy peeple
with an earth-based consciousness, an ability to see, to extend,
to understand, and it is this integration and cultivation of sensi-
bilities which becomes the goal of Melville's insistence on brother-

hood and cultural relativism. The rejection of Types is the flight

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599

from the unmodified animal level of man's existence. Yet, at the
beginning of the book, Tommo had rejected for emctly similar
reasons the unmodified conscious level of man's existence: he
will accept neither the complete and constant consciousness of a
Henry James herione or villain nor the strong-loined elemental
character of a D. H. Lawrence here. Then why does Tommo ache to
return to the western world, one of the incomplete halves of the
dichotomy?

The answer to this is three directional. First of all, part
of the answer lies in the character of Tommo himself. Secondly,
we met recognize that has does not contain within itself any
coggleted set of ideas about human society. The discussion of the
problems of unaided consciousness is the core of the later books.
Thirdly, there is evidence in 2.21.992 and _B_i_._];2_ly 13393 that man mst
leave Types existence in order to fulfill other of his potential-
ities. This does not mean that Melville chooses one-half of the
dichotomy over the other: either kind of isolation leads to the
cannibalism of murder or suicide. It means that man must step
above unconsciousness and elemental living yet must not abandon
the earth-bound world. There is yet to come the thematic con-
struction of the statement that integration must be made in terms
of the world we know, and it is this which brings us circularly
back to the character of Tommo.

Tommo is an exponent of conscious will. He reviews alterna-
tives and makes a choice about his destirv. Then he activates will

and leaves the Dolly. It is he who forces himself to an act he

.0

60.
cannot physically sustain when he uses his body to crush the
barriers of physical nature as he and Toby labor through the reed-
tangles on the slopes. It is Tonxno who conceives the p_l_a_n for
use of body in the first place. Even when compared to Toby, who
is himself a representative of western rather than Types world,
it is always Tome rho prevails in council. It is he who decides
where they shall camp, which path they shall follow, which valley
they shall descend. Toby prevails in action, in unplanned physi-
cal endeavor, and he does not communicate to Tommo except in those
terms. Whereas Tommo discusses altermtives with Toby, Toby
simply moves when the next move is up to him: he falls off the
cliff into the palm tree in the last descent into the valley,
leaving the startled Tonmo behind. It is Tommo who first communi-
cates plans for desertion to Toby, who had been harboring similar
thoughts in silence, telling no one.

There are, of course, ample instances of Toby's conscious
will. After all, he too is alien to pure Types existence. But in
the relationship between the two, it is Toby who is best fitted for
existence in Types and therefore it- is he who can be the most
operative, who can be mobile, who can escape. Moreover, his con-
version would not prove the value of Types ethics as much as would
Tommo's conversion; the natives are willing to part with Toby, but
they will not even allow Tommo to glimpse the sea.

The barrier to the sea presented by Types highlights the dif-
ference between Tome as embryo quest-figure and Types as limita-

tion; this difference is intensified in the double-view of Tomo's

61.
and Kory Kory‘s different reactions to the effigy of the dead

warrior chief in the death-canoe.

In one of the most secluded portions of the
valley...was the mausoleum.of a deceased warrior chief.
Like all the other edifices of any note, it was raised
upon a small pi—pi of stones, which, being of unusual
height, was a conspicuous object from.a distance...

The sanctity of the spot appeared never to have been
violated. The stillness of the grave was there, and
the calm.solitude around was beautiful and touching.
The soft shadows of those lofty palmptreesl-I can see
them.nowb-hanging over the little temple, as if to
keep out the intrusive sun.

On all sides as you approached this silent spot
you caught sight of the dead chief's effigy, seated in
the stern of a canoe, which was raised on a light frame
a few inches above the level of the pi-pi. The canoe
was about seven feet in length; of a rich, dark coloured
wood, handsomely carved and adorned in.many places with
variegated bindings of stained sinnate, into which were
wrought a number of sparkling seashells, and a belt of
the same shells ran all around it. The body of the
figure-of whatever material it might have been.made-
was effectually concealed in a heavy robe of brown
tappa, revealing only the hands and head; the latter
skillfully carved in wood, and surmounted by a superb
arch of plumes. These plumes, in the subdued and gentle
gales which found access to this sequestered spot, were
never for one moment at rest, but kept nodding and wav-
ing over the chief‘s brow. The long leaves of the
palmetto drOppsd over the saves, and through them you
saw the warrior holding his paddle with both hands in
the act of rowing, leaning forward and inclining his
head, as if eager to hurry on his voyage. Glaring at
hin.forever, and face to face, was a polished human
skull, which crowned the prow of the canoe. The Spectral
figurehead, reversed in its position, glancing backwards,
seemed to mock the impatient attitude of the warrior.2

The warrior is recOgnizable as the model of all quest figures
and the antithesis of Types. His body is muffled, his head demands
notice. He is voyaging. He is impatient. He is water-bound, sea
travelling, surrounded by and ornamented with sea shells. He is

Taji.in his canoe. He is Ahab furiously staring into the ever

62.
mocking mask of the white whale. He is Pierre struggling to com,
plate the rebellious journey of Enceladus. He sees no heaven, no
God, no Answer-as long as he quests he sees nothing but the
symbol of time: mortality, transiency, death. But how does Tommo
react to this known quantity?

Whenever in the course of my rambles through the
valley I happened to be near the chief's mausoleum, I
always turned aside to visit it. The place had a
peculiar charm for me; I hardly know why; but so it was.
As I leaned over the railing and gazed upon the strange
effigy and watched the play of the feathery head—dress,
stirred by the same breeze which in low tones breathed
amidst the lofty palm-trees, I loved to yield myself up
to the fancifu1.superstition of the islanders, and
could almost believe that the grim.warrior was bound
heavenward. In this mood when I turned to depart, I
bade him, "God apeed, and a pleasant voyage." Aye,
paddle away, brave chieftan, to the land of spiritst
To the material eye thou makest but little progress;
but with the eye of faith, I see thy canoe cleaving the
bright waves, which die away on those dimly looming
shores of Paradise.2h

Tommo synpathizes; he understands the everlasting trip to another
world; he himself is a changeling. But in his discussion.with
Korbeory'and his comments on Kory-Kory's reaction, Tommo dis-
closes himself as someone who is himself not a complete quest
character. He does not wish to plunge beyond the human world, but
wishes only to return.to the world of human consciousness. Kory-
Kory, however, is not at all sympathetic. He is matterbof-fact,
materialistic, and his vision of the warrior and his voyage is
cast completely in terms of body and limitation.
When I first visited this singular place with Kory-

Kory, he told me-or at least so I understood him—~that

the chief was paddling his way to the realm of bliss,

and bread fruit-the Polynesian.heaven-where every

moment the bread-fruit trees dropped their ripened
spheres to the ground, and where there was no end to the

63.

cocoa-nuts and banannas: there they reposed through the
live-long eternity upon mats much finer than those of
Types; and every day bathed their glowing limbs in
rivers of cocoa-nut oil. In that happy land there were
plenty of plumes and feathers, and boars'-tusks and
spermpwhals teeth, far preferable to all the shining
trinkets and gay tappa of the white men; and, best of
all, women far lovelier than the daughters of earth
were there in abundance. "A very pleasant place,"
Korbeory said it was; "but after all, not much pleas-
anter, he thought, than.Types." "Did he not then," I
asked him, "wish to accompany the warrior?" "Oh, no:
he was very happy where he was; but supposed that some
time or other he would go in.his own canoe."

Thus far, I think, I clearly comprehended Kory-
Kory. But there was a singular expression he made use
of at the time, enforced by as singular a gesture, the
meaning of which I would have given much to penetrate.
I am.inclined to believe it must have been a proverb
he uttered; for I afterwards heard him.repeat the same
words several times, and in what appeared to me to be
a somewhat similar sense. Indeed, KoryaKory had a
great variety of short, smart-sounding sentences, with
which he frequently enlivened his discourse; and he imp
troduced them with an air which plainly intimated, that,
in his Opinion, they settled the matter in question,
whatever it might be.

Could it have been then, that when I asked him
whether he desired to go to this heaven of bread-fruit,
cocoa-nuts, and young ladies, which he had been de-
scribing, he answered by saying something equivalent to
our old adage-"A bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush?"-if he did, Kory-Kory was a discreet and sensible
fellow, and I cannot sufficiently admire his shrewdnessgs

That Tommo is not the complete quest figure, that his orienta-
tion is thisdworldly, is clear in his interpretation of Kory-
Kory‘s remark. But the Typeean far exceeds the American in ac-
centuating earthliness and in confining all areas of being-
divine, spiritual, conscious-to the limitations of'body.

On the whole, I am inclined to believe, that the
islanders in.the Pacific have no fixed and definite
ideas whatever on the subject of religion..;In truth,
the Typees, so far as their actions evince, submitted to

no laws human or divine-always excepting the thrice
.mysterious taboo. The "independent electors" of the

61..

valley were not to be browbbsaten by chiefs, priests,
idols, or devils. As for the luckless idols, they re-
ceived more hard knocks than supplications...
...Walking with Kory-Kory through the deepest
recesses of the groves, I perceived a curious looking
image, about six feet in height, which originally had
been placed upright against a low pi-pi, surmounted by
a ruinous bamboo temple, but having become fatigued
and weak in the knees, was now carelessly leaning
against it. The idol was partly concealed by the
foliage of a tree which stood near, and whose leafy
boughs drooped over the pile of stones, as if to pro—
tect the rude fans from.the decay to whidh it was
rapidly hastening. The image itself was nothing more
than a grotesquely shaped log, carved in the likeness
of’a portly naked man with the arms claSped over the
head, the jaws thrown wide apart, and its thick shape-
less legs bowed into an arch. It was much decayed.
The lower part was overgrown.with a bright silky moss.
Thin spears of grass sprouted from the distended mouth
and fringed the outline of the head and arms. His
godship had literally attained a green old age. All
its prominent points were bruised and battered, or
entirely rotted away. The nose had taken its departure,
and from.the general appearance of the head it might
have been supposed that the wooden diviniby, in despair
at the neglect of its worshippers, had been trying to
beat its own brains out against the surrounding trees.
I drew near to inspect more closely this strange
object of idolatry; but halted reverently at the dis-
tance of two or three paces, out of regard to the
religious of my valet. As soon, however, as Kory-Kory
perceived that I was in one of my inquiring, scientific
moods, to my astonishment, he sprang to the side of the
idol, and pushing it away from the stones against which
it rested, endeavored to make it stand upon its legs.
But the divinity had lost the use of them.altogsthsr;
mid mile Kory-Kory was trying to prop it up, by placing
a stick between it and the pi-pi, the monster fell
clumsily to the ground, and would infallibly have broken
its neck had not Kory-Kory providentially broken its
fall by receiving its whole weight on his own half-
crushed back. I never saw the honest fellow in such a
rage before. He leaped furiously to his feet, and
seizing the stick, began beating the poor image: every
moment or two pausing and talking to it in the most
‘violent manner, as if upbraiding it for the accident.
When his indignation had subsided a little he whirled
the idol about most profanely, so as to give me an
Opportunity of examining it on all sides. I am quite
sure I never should have presumed to have taken such
liberties with the god myself, and I was not a little

 

 

 

65.
shocked at Kory-Kory' s impiety.26

Besides the references to head, body and the relationship of
the two disclosed in this passage, there is also another hint of
the universal. Kory-Kory is the simple, sarthbound, unphiloso-
phical Ahab furiously seeking vengeance against any god who would
crush him, for to him all is physical. But in his Types life his
reactiom are stinulated and gauged by body alone. Significantly,
it is Kory-Kory who, as a representative Types, respecting noth-
ing pertaining to voyage or other-worldliness, and who as the
friendly valet and warden of Tommo, is the man assigned by the
islanders to keep Tommo from breaking taboos or from walking to-
ward the sea.

When Karky the tattoosr wishes to practise his craft on
Toms, the American refuses in horror. At first his refusal is
based upon a literal-level fear that his face will be ruined for
western society. It is important that Karky will not be satisfied
with a comission to work on Tommo's arm—he wishes to attack
Tommo's head. The Types tattoos of the face all include a line
which runs across the eyes (either horizontally or vertically,
like 253.1339 bag-Melville's image—or diagonally as part of the
two inclines of an equilateral triangle with the base line run-
ning across the m. The Types designs for tattoo of the head
all include a hiding of the agents of communication and under-
standing. The designs for the _b_o_dl are, of course—animals, or
vegetable growth. When all the natives, even the highest chief

Mehevi and Kory-Kory evidence their strong desire to have Tommo's

66.

face tattooed, and when all the priests join in the assent, Tommo
realizes that the basis of their desire is conversion. No one can
understand why Tommo refuses the tattoo-~they are amazed that the
values, symbols and commitments of Types can be refused by anyone.
So there is a more basic meaning to Tommo's fear that his head
will thereafter be unfit for western society. It is the tension
between mind and mindlessness. And at this point Tomo's desire
to escape mounts almost to a panic. Again the point is made

that Tommo is inoperative in Types. His body cannot compete.

His will and mind are useless because they cannot conmunicate or
else communicate only to betray his wish to escape. 0r, symboli-
cally, his will and mind will either be altered by the overlay of
Types values or else they will be consigned to death. The book
has already set up the prOposition that no society willingly lets
one leave the limits of its own world. And the further prOposi-
tion has also been constructed that the limits of primitivism are
too deadly and too confining for the civilized human. ioreover,
each society believes its own values are the best for human be-
havior. The plight of Tommo in the death-trap of alien values is
summed up in a bit of dialogue with Marnoo. When Tommo again
pleads with Marnoo to try to get him out of the valleynthus en—
dangering Marnoo's life as well as his owno-Marnoo cuts him short.
"Kannaka [nativeg] no let you go no where," he said; Iyou taboo.
Why you no like to stay? Plenty moss-moss (sleep)-plenty ki-ki
(eat)--p1enty whihenee (young girls)--0h, very good place Typeel

Suppose you no like this bay, why you come? You no hear about

67.
Types? All white men afraid Types, so no white men come' ."27
(Italics mine.) The statement of isolated body values is imme-
diately followed by the revelation Of reality beneath appearance:
“He no hear you talk any more; by by Kannaka get mad, kill you
and me too. NO you see he no want you to speak to me at all?—
you see—ah! by by you no mind—you get well, he kill you, eat
you, hang you head up there like Happar Kannakai....'"28

Jealousy for the possession Of Tommo is a concentration of
the conflict and isolation Of the two worlds; Tommo has plunged
back down into the primitive beginnings Of human order only to
find that man of the conscious, technological world has travelled
too far beyond that point to find Operation, completion or even
existence on that primary level. Marnoo, who is Operative, and
me does connect both levels with his own broken commnication, is
not limited or physically debilitated like Tommo. Moreover, his
tattooing sets him apart from the Typeeans: his head and face are
_c_l_e_§£ of am tatto. His body tattoo is not a collection Of isola-
ted itens, like those Of the Typeeans—his is one complete and
integrated picture, and Tommo points this out quite emphatically.
His level Of existence is a transition, a between-time hovering
below the western world and above the Polynesian. In a chrono-
logical sense, Marnoo comes close to the integration Of values
that will characterize the complete man. The curve of a cycle is
ssgnsnted, and as always, almost all incident in Melville returns,
at one point or another, to distances of time.

There have been attempts to interpret Tommo's and Toby's

 

68.

literal descent and final. fall into the valley as a parallel to
the Fall from grace. I rather think that the parallel exists as
an epiphany Of Tommo's voyage in m: the plunge from the
world-time of civilization to the world-time Of unconsciousness.
It is a plunge 953.15 to Eden, an Eden which hides a deadly para-
do: Of limitations. The barriers of waters, mountains and ravines
are startlingly similar to the traditional barriers between worlds
in the literature or Christian xzhrtholog'.29 The difficulty of the
journey is the typical difficulty for the Melvillean protagonist
in the change-Of—worlds. The plunge hers is a descent in time.
Another concentration of image at the beginning of the book
traces the same idea in terms of the physical nature of the two
worlds. Toma dived from the sterile, parchedheat Of the sea-
sun into Polynesia's verdure, which allows Oblivion and relief
from the perspiration Of quest and conflict with nature:

I had come from Nukuheva by water in the ship's
boat, ani when we entered the bay Of Tior it was high
noon. The heat had been intense...The sun's rays had
expended all their fury upon us; and to add to our
discomfort, we had omitted to supply ourselves with
water previous to starting. What with heat and thirst
together, I became...impatient to get ashore...I rushed
forward across the open ground in the vicinity of the
333, [italics mingl, and plunged, diver fashion, into
the recesses Of the first grove that Offered.

What a delightful sensation did I s erisnce'. I
felt as if floating in some new element ‘ italics ming,
while all sort Of gurgling, trickling, liquid sounds
fell upon my ear. People may say what they will about
the refreshing influences of a cold-water bath, but
come!!! use when in a perspiration to the shade baths,
Of'.Tior, beneath the cocoa-mt trees, and amidst he
cool delightful atmosphere which surrounds them.

The constant reference to verdure recalls the symbolic func-

tion of the color green in Pierre, where the color there too

6.9a
stimulates the theme of time. In meg, too, green is related to
vegetable decay and to time. The first close view of land that
Tom and the crew have is the bay of Nukuheva, which is described
in language vitally cOgnizant of the time motif.

Nothing can exceed the imposing scenery of this
bay. Viewed from our ship as she lay at anchor in the
middle of the harbour, it presented the appearance of
a vast natural amphitheatre in decay, and overgrown
with vines, the deep glens that mrrowed its sides ap—
pearing like enormous fissures caused by the ravages
of time.31

More striking in its application to humanity as well as land is
the following use of decayed green under the subheading (Chapter
III) "Timeworn Savages ":

As we advanced further along the building, we were
struck with the aspect of four or five hideous old
wretches, on whose decrepit forms time and tattooing
seemed to have obliterated every trace of humanity.
Owing to the continued Operation of this latter process,
which only terminates among the warriors of the island
after all the figures stretched upon their limbs in
youth have been blended together—an effect, however,
produced only in cases of extreme longevity-the bodies
of these men were of a uniform dull green color—the hue
which the tattooing gradually assumes as the individual
advances in age. Their skin had a frightful scaly
appearance, which, united with its singular color, made
their limbs no} a littleresemble dusty specimens of
verde-antique. 2

The application of greeness and time has been made to nan and
nature; all that remains is to find the same applied to the divine.
The use of green-rot is made in just such a:-. relationship in the
description of the idol beaten by Kory-Kory. The description here
is reinforcement for the picture of the verde-antique natives at
the Tia-they always sit motionlessly like idols. later, at the

Feast of the Calabashes, Tommo discovers that they are priests.

19. 16."!
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7°.
Everything, including religion.and man's conceptions of God him—
self, is subject to Time, the only God. This theme is carried
out much more completely and startlingly in Pigggg, where it is
cast in terms of western civilization; it is, I believe, the
basis (which has so far escaped the notice of critics) of a real
understanding of Melville‘s view of history, religion, and Christ.
It is fer this reason, for instance, that Melville can dismiss
Christian ministers and missionaries with the same amusanent, the
same devastatingly ironic tone, the same emphasis on futility
that he employs for pagan religion. Each religion, like each
world, looked upon as timeless and permanent by its followers be-
comes an isolated caricature of other religions. The best example
of this can be found in an incident which demands an extended
quote. The flippancy and sarcasm of the tone in which the inci-
dent is related are couched in noticeable amusement.

Mehevi and the chieftans of the Ti have just risen
from their noontide slumbers. There are no affairs of
state to dispose of; and having eaten two or three
breakfasts in the course of the morning, the magnates of
the valley feel no appetite as yet for dinner. How are
their leisure moments to be occupied? They smoke, they
chat, and at last one of their number makes a preposition

-to the rest, who joyfully acquiescing, he darts out of
the house, leaps from.the pi-pi, and disappears in the
grove. Soon you see him returning with Kolory Z; chief
priest7, who bears the god Mes Artua in his anms, and
carries in one hand a small trough, hollowed out in the
likeness of a canoe. The priest comes along dandling
his charge as if it were a lachrymose infant he was
endeavoring to put into a good humor. Presently, enter-
ing the Ti, he seats himself on the mats as composedly
as a juggler about to perform his sleight-of-hand tricks;
and with the chiefs disposed in a circle around him,
commences his ceremony.

In the first place he gives Moa Artua an affectionate
hug, then caressingly lays him to his breast, and, finally,

71c

whispers something in.his ear; the rest of the company
listening eagerly for a reply. But the baby-god is

deaf or dumb,-perhaps both, for never a word does he
utter. At last Kolory speaks a little louder, and soon
growing angry, comes boldly out with what he has to say
and bawls to him. He put me in mind of a choleric
fellow, who, after trying in vain to communicate a .
secret to a deaf man, all at once flies into a passion
and screams it out so that every one may hear. Still
Moa Artua remains as quiet as ever; and Kolory, seemp
ingly loosing his temper, fetches him a box over the
head, strips him of his tappa and red cloth, and laying
him in.a state of nudity in.the little trough, covers
him.from.sight. At this proceeding all present loudly
applaud and signify their approval by uttering the ad-
jective "mortarkee" with violent emphasis. Kolory,
however, is so desirous his conduct should meet with
unqualified approbation, that he inquires of each indi-
vidual separately whether, under existing circumstances,
he has not done perfectly right in shutting up Moa Artua.
The invariable response is "As, As" (yes, yes), repeated
over again and again in.a manner which ought to quiet
the scruples of the most conscientious. After a few
moments Kolory brings ferth his doll again, and while
arraying it very carefully in the tappa and red cloth,
alternately fondles and chides it. The toilet being
completed, he once more speaks to it aloud. The whole
company hereupon show the greatest interest; while the
priest holding Mos Artua to his ear interprets to them
what he pretends the god is confidentially communicating
to him. Some items of intelligmce appear to tickle all
present amazingly; for one claps his hands in a rapture;
another shouts with merriment; and a third leaps to his
feet and capers about like a madman.

What under the sun Mos Artua on these occasions had
to say to Kolory I never could find out; but I could not
help thinking that the former showed a sad want of spirit
in being disciplined into making those disclosures, which
at first he seemed bent on withholding, Whether the
priest honestly interpreted what he believed the divinity
said to him, or whether he was not all the while guilty
of a vile humbug, I shall not presume to decide. At any
rate, whatever as coming from the god was imparted to
those present seemed to be generally of a complimentary
nature: a fact which illustrates the sagacity of Kolory,
or else the time-serving disposition.of'this hardly used
deity.

Mos Artua having nothing more to say, his bearer
goes to nursing him again, in which occupation, however,
he is soon interrupted by a question put by one of the
warriors to the god. Kolory hereupon snatches it up to

1
411

3
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13:33.? '-

in

 

72:

his ear again, and after listening attentively, once
more officiates as the organ of communication. A uniti-
tude of questions and answers having passed between.the
parties, much to the satisfaction of those who propose
the, the god is put tenderly to bed in the trough, and
the whole company unite in a long chaunt, led off by
Kolony. This ended, the ceremony is over; the chiefs
rise to their feet in.high good humour, and my Lord
Archbishop, after chatting awhile, and regaling himself
with a whiff or two from a pipe of tobacco, tucks the
canoe under his arm.and.marches off with it.

The whole of these proceedings were like those of
a parcel of children playing with doll: and baby houses.

' All the unconsciousness motifs unite in this incident. Em-
cept for the simple deceit which Kolory practices upon his parish-
ioners-the same simple and transparent deceit which the natives
practise upon Tommo-there is no disguise, no attempt to pierce
through appearances, no intellection. When Mos Artua is denuded
in punishment he is revealed as nothing more nor less than.what we
are led to believe he is-a piece of wood. Most important, there
is absolutely no connection between divine and human, and abso-
lately no real communication. There is only the credulity, sponp
tensity and unconsciousness of childish primitivism. A few pages
later, in order to reinforce the universality of religion as a
human institution which demands either submission (the early state-
ments about the missionaries) or unconsciousness (Kolory and Mac
Artua), Melville closes the chapter with a comment on KoryaKory's
beating of the rotting idol:3h

...When one of the inferior order of natives could show
such contempt for a venerable and.decrepit God of the
Groves, what the state of religion must be among the
peeple in general is easily to be imagined. In truth,
I regard the Typees as a backslidden generation. They

,are sunk in religious sloth, and require a spiritual
revival. A long prosperity of bread-fruit and cocoa-nuts

73a

has rendered them remiss in the performance of their

higher obligations. The wood-rot malady is spreading

among the idolsnthe fruit upon their altars is be-

coming offensive—the temples themselves need re-thatch-

inguthe tattooed clergy are altogether too light-heart-

ed and lazy—and their flocks are going astray.35
We know from the tone of this passage that a sarcasm which negates
the surface statement is at work again. ESpecially when Tommo's
sympathy for a certain Typee aspect of materialism, pragmatism
and empiricism is remembered, we can not believe aversion to Types
on the__s_e_ ground. Moreover, the "long prosperity" and the "back-
slidden generation" could easily be a reference to the western-
particularly American—world of Melville's day. The suspicion
arises that this is one of the places where Melville uses Typee
not as a separate ethnic or geographic grouping; that Typee is an
arch-m; that the islander becomes part of all men, and the
isolated concretization is again used to make a universal. In the
largest terms Typee is not alone cpen to charges of decay. Time
has affected all, as it will the western world. It has reduced
the civilization which erected the monumental stone piles of the
Typee valley into a memory confused by superstitions, an echo of
other great conquerors of nature whose works are now literally
reduced to a level of support for a later, unconscious race. The
crumbling stones as a symbol is to reappear in greater force in
Pierre.

The problem of isolation itself does not exist as an unmodi—

fied theme in 31193. It is presented in modified terms of com-
mnication and consciousness and geographic inaccessibility, but

it unbraces a subsidiary problem when the two worlds are pictured

t I |

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71..
in conflict; this consideration is an obvious extension of the

comparison of Paulet and Thouars and all that they represent.
Imposition of values is either incongruity and farce, as when the
visiting native queen of Mowanna, king of Nukuheva, in the midst
of the splendor and pomp of a military review, hoists her skirts
to display her own splerxlor in the form of her brightly tattooed
hindquarters, or it is death as brought on by the ravages of
venereal disease introduced by the western invaders, or as intro-
duced by the missionaries with their shifting laws and mores, or
as introduced by Typee in cannibalism.

The statement emerging from the incidents in m pertinent
to this theme is that no 933 aspect of human ethics and behavior
is by itself superior to any other single aspect. The stage is
set for the creation of the only here, the complete man who can
embrace the trinity of mind and body and heart. Melville is
eclectic rather than Platonic. He will have none of the absolutes
in am way whatever. (There will be larger indications of this in
later books.) Ahab M have some of Queezueg's characteristics;
Qleequeg 2% have some of Ahab's. Hence the cultural relativism
and democracy. Neither Tommo nor any Typee emerges as the hero
who can resolve opposites. The ordering of human behavior must
await the here. In this view and in this cultural relativism,
Melville's imight into the world pierced through the confines of
his age and swopt a huge part of the future.

The lushness and storm of Melville's 91,113 is confused with
romantic though . Melville's thought is anti-romantic. He insists

'75:
that man must not tire of his world only to scorn it Byronically
from an isolated mountain peak or to hide from it in the depths
of an isolated valley. (Before Tome Jumps ship he delightedly
envisages the former and after he jumps ship he lives the latter.)
Tome, after retirement, can not wait to rejoin his world; his
weltschmertz is a thing of the past, and he will try to overcome
aw obstacle between’himself and his reintegration with the reali-
ties of his own present, western point of develoment in civili-
nation.

Insofar as it can be agreed that Melville's entire literary
output is a cohesion and that when we read a simple story of a
man going to sea or to land we must be careful to balance that
story against the totality of Melville' s work, we can find in the
structure of m a picture of the structure of Melville's prose
output. Tome begins in antithesis to Ahab, Ahab ends in anti-
thesis to Starry Vere, Starry Vere begins in similarity to Tome
in his need for humanity, but with a greatly increased store of
realisations.‘rl’g‘

The beginning and end flow into each other and the most com-
plex of Melville's books each becomes an epiphany of the totality
of all the books. I use the word epipham' in the same sense that
the theologian uses it to describe the sight of God. The epiphany
is the object which creates the sudden, encompassed view, the
frozen moment of perception mich embraces the primal beginning
and the fiml end. seeing that both beginning and end are one in

a single source. It is most spectacular that any of Melville's

.§

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76..
books should so serve, for they all drive at a theme of Time
which creates and absorbs all. the human action of which Melville
writes.

One suggestion trust be added before we leave Types. The
element of heart has been mentioned, but only casually because it
does not occupy much place in 112239. It is one of the casual in-
sertions, one of the foreshadowings of the other books in which
2222 so richly abounds. Heart, in Melville's books, is generally
(but not at all consistently) related to the Typee world rather
than to the western world, to the female rather than to the male,
to the healthy body rather than to the self comumed and driven
man. It is noticeable that as Taji becomes more and more fevered
in his quest, as Ahab does in his, as Pierre does in his, and as
their bodies waste away that their hearts harden. Even Tommo, who
is not as defined a character as the others, steels himelf away
from the heart-ties he has formed in Typee as his leg becomes
worse and worse and his need for home increases. The complete-man-
hero will cnphasize neither heart nor mind, but will subordinate
either or both to the necessitiesand realities of his world.
Mardi's Media will sacrifice selfish luxuries; Captain Vere will
submit to the necessity of comitting an act which his heart de-
tests. But, like ZIP—9.9. itself, this suggestion can only be an
adumbration.

mg is the begzmning of Melville's voyage. It is a book of
craftiand profundity that has been all but overlooked. The narrator

enters different worlds, always retaining the consciousness of his

., .
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77..
original orientation, which is that of the western Christian
culture. Focused through this constant consciousness the views
of Melville are expressed in Tommo's awareness.

Consciousness itself has not yet been explored. It has been
glimpsed only in impingement upon primitivism, which is the per-
spective point and central problem of 22233. The realm of
primitive human existence has been explored, and its values--in
isolation and unconsciousness-ohave been rejected, although its
aspects of naturalness, simplicity and pragmatism.have been
favorably reported as necessary to complete life. From.this be-
ginning in time and ethical values, Melville, Tommo, and the
reader point once again to the Open sea, wherein the next staps
will be made for the ever growing explorations of civilization and

consciousness that await the reader.

78.
NOTES

1. 322.0.» 467-468.
2. 3229.2. 1.68.
3. 11:22. 1.68.
A. m. 1.87.
5. 31:33, 1.65.
6. mg, 1.38.
7. m 466.
s. m. 1.66.

9. m 1.73.

10. Often Melville scatters bits of reminders about the cannibals.
The minders on the one hand bolster the sharpness of contrast between
appearance and reality (the Happars are supposed to be friendly, and
they almost kill Toby; the Typees are supposed to be killers and they
befriend the wanderers), and on the other hand they strengthen the view
of land as a danger in itself, too. A representative selection is this:
"I had heard too of an English vessel that many years ago, after a weary
cruise [sic], sought to enterthe bay of Nukuheva, and arriving within
two or three miles of the land} was met by a large canoe filled with
natives, who offered to lead the way tp their place of destination. The
captain, unacquainted with the localities of the island, joyfully
accepted to the preposition -- the canoe paddled on and the ship
followed. Been she was conducted to a beautiful inlet, and drapped her
anchor in its waters beneath the shadows of the lofty shore. That same
night the perfidious Typees, who had thus inveigled her into their
fatal bay, flocked aboard the dodmed vessel by hundreds, and at a given
signal mdered every soul on board.” (133-494.)

11. 32.2.9; 1.71..

12. In a sentmee too casual to be intentionally intended as such,
Helville writes an epitome of the contrasting civilizations as well as
his major imagery: '...Iar off, the lofty Jet of the whale might be
seen, and nearer at hand the prowling shark, that villainous footpad
of the seas, would come slmlking along..." (474.) he fragment is an
exquisite miniature that expands to Melville's total theme.

13. Like the deceitful beachcomber, Jimmy, this slim to Types
existence loses all humanity. He Loses "mind" in the animal gratification
of body (liquor), and yet cannot maintain himself in the world of

 

79-

body except by his ties with the world of mind, which is out of
place oval though it is the dominating power. Jimmy lives in both
worlds, but retains his hold on "mind" only in the corrupted
utilization of consciousness for purpose of deceit. He is a parasite
leeching on both worlds. He can only deceive Toby. He effects no
rescue, for the 'IyPees are willing to lose Toby, but Jimmy cannot
rescue Tommo. However, the natives Karakoee and Marnoo can go

from primitivism to consciousness (they. can communicate with both
worlds), and they gain power thereby. Marnoo is no seam, is too
close to 1ypee to be effective. He can communicate truth and can
initiate a rescue, but cannot effect it.Karakoee has developed
further than Marnoo. He is a native who is also a sea-sailor. He
deceives no one, and he does rescue Tommo. The implication of theme
is the obverse side of the coin which shows the regression and
death involved in plunging from the conscious to the primitive,
which becues a denial of the possibilities of human civilization.
The characters can reach completion and effectiveness only by travelling
from the primitive to the conscious, and although primitive and
conscious both have good and. bad within them, this is the basic
dichotomy of worlds in IR”

11.. m_, 1.80-1.81.
15. mg, 1.96-1.97.
. 212:9.» 772.

. my 777.
18. mg. 777.

19. Melville's characters all must either slink away from their
original worlds (Tommo, Ishmael, Pierre), or they are jerked out of
their worlds against the world's will (Billy Budd).

20. I emphasize social because Melville had many reservations
about political democracy which are implicit in almost everything he
wrote and which are explicit in the Vivenza section of Mardi wherein
the anonymous pamphlet is read.

21e m, 4%”499e

22. Tone is one of the most important clues for interpretation
of Melville's books. Note, for instance, how the early love scenes in
Pie____r___re had annoyed critics for so long until their satiric qualities
were pointed out by more recent scholars, particularly William
Bhuane

230 m 678-680e
also m 681s

80.
. ”25;..«m, 680-681.
26. m 687-689.
27. map, 762.

3. m 763e

29. Howard Rollin Patch, The Other World (Cambridge, Mass., 1950),
passim.

30. mac. 497-498.

310 m [81.492e

32o My 579'58.e

33. m, 683-685.

34. I do not expect the reader to be convinced, at this point,
that this is an accurate statement about Melville's view of religion.
'Ihe attitude certainly exists demonstrably in gees, but its more

pronounced develOpmmt and specific direction is left for the later
bOOKBe

‘ 350 m 689s

81.

CHAPTER III

MARDI

Hhen Melville wrote Mardi, he wrote about a subject that was
to be the center of most of his greatest writing: the plight of
the quester in relation to the world and to his goal. 'With Mardi,
Melville gave himself both his first treat and his first real
literary headache. Supposedly, it was to be another "south seas"
book. But Melville offers his own little mask in the "Author's
Preface":

Not long ago, having published two narratives of
voyages in the Pacific, which, in many quarters, were
received with incredulity, the thought occurred to me,
of indeed writing a romance of Polynesian adventure,
and publishing it as such; to see whether, the fiction
might not, possibly, be received for a verity: in some
degree the reverse of my previous eXperience.

This thought was the germ of others, which have
resulted in Mardi.

All we have to do is compare the book itself with the pre-
face, and let our conclusions as to what are "verities" base them-
selves on what we find. In this preface too, lurking under the
surface of the apparently guileless preface is that cunning liar,
the artist, ready to fix the gullible swimmer upon the sharkishly
sharp teeth of his words. For purposes of theme, Mardi is as much

a "verity" as Typee; for purposes of rationalization, excuse or

e a.
are 11,,"

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82.

deceit, this brief preface does its job admirably. The "germ" of
pgggg; was as much in the man who wrote Typee as in the man who
wrote £8513} The writing of his cosmic vision, I maintain, was
always in the back of Melville's mind, and yaggg was his first
self-indulgence. It is most obviously a selfeindulgence because
3:293 and 022 had not yet taught him how to make the closely and
consciously sought symbol arise from the suspenseful surface of a
well written story, and;ߤ5gi became the "botch" that later books
are not.2 Surely, Melville must have learned more from M
than from any other book he ever wrote, except, possibly, his
first.

I call‘ygggi a self-indulgence because in my view, Melville
the man is not completely heroic. I see him.as a man who was very
conscious of patronage, popular taste and popular values. I see
him as a man who wrote because he was "bestirring himself to pro-
cure his yams," a man who would delete, change, and prettify truth
as he saw it in order to sell his books.3 What kept him.from.be-
coming the hack that Melville the man‘might have been was the
devil—in-the depths, the artist,the man with vision, who lurked
in Melville as Azzageddi lurked in Babbalanja-and probably causing
as much pain.“ That deceiver, liar, devil-shark—artist was too
honest, deep—diving, all-consuming and insightful for the real
world of’lardi. The view of Lombardo writing the Koztanza was
Melville's heroic picture of himself; but it did not become the

true picture until Moby-Dick and after.5

83.

Mardi's "world of mind" is neither as simple nor as unified
a narrative as Typge's world of body. Seizing "consciousness" in
[Maggi is seizing the phantom great white squid; the holder is him-
self twisted by the pull and suction of many tentacles, and just
when it seems that this hold or that will result in grasping the
Damned Thing's central core, the whole mass sinks out of sight in
a sea of sloppy construction, artificial action, and shifting
points of narration. There is one major area of difficulty en-
countered in an analysis of Maggi, a difficulty which must be exp
aminod.before any comprehensive idea of what the book is about can
emerge. The difficulty is simply that structurally ygggi is a
very bad book. I think it is demonstrably the worst book Melville
wrote. By no means does this mean, however, that it is the least
important (a distinction I reserve readily forgmgg),6 but rather
that its narrative level is unforgivably gnarled and snarled. In
fact, it is not one unified story, but rather a combination of
three parallel tales. These three tales are (l) the introductory
“factual" stories of the Arcturion, Chamois andugggki, (2) Taji's
story, and (3) Babbalanja's and Media's story.7

It is, in fact, the structural disorganization of the herb
rative level which makes Maggi a "difficult" book. It is silly to
hold forth as a new opinion the idea that mega; is a disorganized
book-—that would be whipping the ghost of a dead horse. But there
is yet much room.for a definition of Mardi's disorganization.
Generally, the attack has been that the allegory's symbolism is

obscure, that the allegory itself is wild and unintegrated, and

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84.
that thus Maggi becomes a "whaling story gone wrong," a possibly
good story made dead and artificial by a cluttered symbolism.8
However, it is quite the other way around. It is the simple
surface narrative, the "story" itself which is wild and uninte-
greted, thus hurting a beautifully consistent body of symbolism
by a cluttered narrative progression. The symbolism is not
opaque, and the allegory is sometimes actually transparent. There
are plenty of statements and actions which give the careful reader
keys to definite meanings for Iillah, Hautis, Taji, gt El-

But the disintegration of narrative structure at times makes
it impossible to know just who is narrating the story, whose words
are to be taken as a value-standard, and whose words are revela—
tion of character. In short, before explication is possible, it
is necessary to examine Mardi's structure in order to reveal the
book's different centers.9 This examination may well begin with
a brief glance at the book's language.

In addition to strong parallels in situation, there are
strong hints within the book that the "factual" opening foresees
all the rest of the allegorical continuation.10 The "break" in
story is so worked that it can be said not to exist. For instance,
among many other instances of preview, the end of Chapter XXVII
("In Which The Past History of The Parki Is Concluded") says:

- And such, in substance, was the first, second,
third and fourth acts of the Parki drama. The fifth
and last, including several scenes, now follows.11

Three chapters later, as the "several scenes" continue, Taji (not

yet named Taji) says:

85.

At times, I mounted aloft, and lounging mm. slings
of the topsail yard-—one of the many snug nooks in a.
ship's rigging-I gazed broad off upon that blue
boundless sea, and wondered what they were doing in
that unknown land, toward which we were fated to be
borne.

It is not only the several hints of looking ahead which prepare
the expectations later satisfied, but also the language itself
ties the "factual" beginning to the allegorical consequences. The
fight with Aleema and his sons (at this point the Parki drama has
ended, and the "break“ may be said to have occurred) is in no way
different from.the appearance of factual adventure which invested
the desertion from.the Arcturion and the adventure of the Parki;
the language shows no change from."adventure" to "allegory."

For instance, here is the desertion:

"Man overboard!" was now shouted from.atem.to stern.
And directly we heard the confused tramping and shouting
of the sailors, as they rushed from.their dreams into
the almost inscrutable darkness.

"Man overboard! Man overboard!" My heart smote me
as the human cry of horror’came out of the black vaulted
night.

..."Heave the ship to, and hold fast everything,"
cried the captain, apparently just springing to the
deck. "One boat's enough. Steward! show a light there
from the mizzen-top. Boat ahoyl-—have you got that
man?"

. No reply. The voice came out of a cloud; the ship
dimly showing like a ghost. We had desisted from.rowh
ing, and hand over hand were now hauling in upon the
rope attached to the breaker, which we soon lifted into
the boat, instantly resuming our cars.

"Pull! pull, men! and save him! again shouted the
CAp'tain.

“Ay, ay, sir," answered Jarl instinctively, "pulling
as hard as ever we can, sir."

And pull we did, till.nothing could be heard from
the ship but a confused tumult; and, ever and anon, the
hoarse shout of the captain, too distant to be understood.

we now set our sail to a light air; and right into
the darkness, and dead to leeward, we rowed and sailed

86:
13
till morning dawned.

And here is the saving of the Parki:

The boat still gaining on the brigantine, the
muskets were again reloaded. And as the next shot
sped, there was a pause; when, like lightning, the
headmost Cholo bounded upwards from his seat, and car
in hand, fell into the sea. A fierce yell; and one of
the natives springing into the water caught the sink-
ing body by its long hair; and the dead and the living
were dragged into the boat. Taking heart from this
fatal shot, Samoa fired yet again...

Enough: darting past the ill—fated boat, they
swam.rapidly fer land, followed by the rest; who
plunged overboard, leaving in the boat the surviving
Cholo-who it seems could not swims-the wounded savage,
and the dead man...

At length both Cholo and savage fell dead upon
their comrades, canting the boat over sideways, till
well nigh awash; in which manner she drifted off.l

The.meeting with Aleema is the first scene of the allegory, and
yet there is no difference in tone or atmosphere. Even the murder
of Aleema is not attended by any change of language:

The knife before dangling in Samoa's ear was now
in his hand. Jarl cried out fbr us to regain the boat,
several of the Islanders making a rush for it. No time
to think. All passed quicker than it can be said. They
closed in upon us, to push.us from the canoe. Rudely
the old priest flung me from.his side, menacing me with
his dagger, the sharp spine of a fish. A thrust and a
threat. Ere I knew it, my cutlass made a quick lunge.
A curse from the priest's mouth; red blood from his
side; he tottered, stared about him, and fell over'like
a brown hemlock into the sea. A yell of maledictions
rose on the air. A wild cry was heard from the tent,
Making a dead breach among the crowd, we now dashed side
by side for the boat. Springing into it, we found Jarl
battling with two Islanders; while the rest were still
howling upop the dais. Rage and grief had almost dis-
abled them. 5

From.this point, however, as the allegory builds, the language
does change. 'we have only to turn to the end of the book, where

the allegory has just about ridden itself-—and the readerb—out, to

87.

see the difference:

And now, their torches held aloft, into the water
the maidens softly glided; and each a lotus floated;
while, from far above, into the air Hautia flung her
flambeau; then bounding after,——in the lake, two meteors
were quenched.

Where she dived, the flambeaux clustered; and up
among them, Hautia rose, hands full of pearls.

"Lo! Taji; all these may be had for the diving; and
Beauty, Health, Wealth, Long Life, and the Last Lost
Hope of man. But through me alone, may these be had.
Dive thou and bring up one pearl if thou canst."

Down, down! dom, down, in the clear, aparkling
water, till I seemed crystallized in the flashing heart
of a diamond; But from those bottomless depths, I uprose
empty handed.1

In the passage on the death of Aleema, the priest is a brown
hemlock, an image unified to both the literal and symbolic levels..
He is a dark Islander, and he is also an image of death, poisoning
the water and Taji's life with guilt and pursuit. The image of
Hautia as a meteor is also unified to both levels. She is hotly
and flashily attractive, and she also burns out into nothing when
Taji tries to seize the promise of her appearance. The language
does not change because of a higher charge of symbolic content.

It changes because it embraces all the highly stylized artificiali-
ties of allegory. In the Aleema passage a torch would be a torch,
not a flambeau. No one in the Aleema episode would glide into the
water floating lotuses: the energy of the language would arise from
narrative action rather than from.the fixed diction of traditional
stylization. And in the Aleema passage, rage and grief, symbolic
as they are, are rage and grief, not Rage and Grief. The creation
(but get the interweaving) of symbol is cheapened in the artifici-

alities. In fine, there is more contrast between the beginning and

end of the allegory than between the "factual" adventure and the

allegory.l7

As bad as the stiltedness of the allegory is, Melville adds
it skillfully, taking the reader from "another south seas book"
into the world of Mardi, and he prepares and builds the change
slowly. At no point can the reader put his finger on the page and
say, "The change is here." It is not until after the disappearance
of the "factual" introduction that the reader realizes a break has
occurred somewhere along the line.

By the time Taji, Jarl and Samoa get Yillah ashore at the
introductory stop in Mardi, allegorical action and language have
been built up to familiarity in Chapters XLII to LIII. It is in
this latter chapter that a "break" does occur, but it is no sudden
change of language or style. The break is simply the transfer of
emphasis from tale I, the introductory adventures, to tale II, the
development of Taji's story. The question is not, "Why doesnel-
ville suddmly change stories in the middle of the book?" but
rather, "Why has he taken so much time introducing the allegory he
knew he was writing?"18 There is no continuation weaving the nar-
rative of the "factual" beginning into the narrative of Taji's
quest story. The introduction is forgotten, relegated to the
mechanical needs of introducing the major action. It is only the
symbolism which saves the introduction from being completely ex-
traneous.

The second tale is Taji's. Yet this tale exists in only about

thirty-six chapters, or, roughly, only twenty percent of the total

89.
book.19 The second tale is in turn fragmented into three sections.
The first is a group at twenty chapters clustered between Chapters
XXXIX.and LXIV, and this group comprises the introduction to the
Taji-Hillahtale.20

The second is a group of about seven chapters interspersed
throughout the book. In these chapters Aleema's pursuit and
Hautia's allurements are interjected in a series of mechanical
reminders that there is an underlying purpose for the voyage. But
there is no special pattern in which these reminders occur. It
seems that in the grinding act of composition, with his mind pre-
occupied with thinking out what he wanted to say in gaggi, Mel-
ville simply waited what he thought were decent intervals and re-
inserted the trappings of Taji's particular quest approximately
once every fifteen chapters without any Special structural rhyme
or reason. As a result, the reintroductions of the three avengers
and the three heralds of Hautia are highly fertuitous and unlike
the bulk of Melville's writing which utilizes juxtaposition and
proper timing with the uncanny accuracy characteristic of a really
good writer. Each of the reminders is monotonously similar to
every other. The occupants of Media's canoe are startled by a
patter of three arrows intended for Taji. They look up in time to
see the avengers' canoe rush away in the distance. Immediately,
Hautia's three heralds appear, displaying flowers to Taji. Yoomy
interprets the meaning of the flowers (generally: your hope, Taji,
is dead; come fly to Hautia's joys). Taji makes a grim.avowal of

eternal quest for Yillah.and scorn fer Hautia. And away they all

90.
sail, unbothered by similar interruptions for another fifteen
chapters or so.

The third fragment of this second book is the last nine
chapters of 143331.. This fragment sees the quester doomed to
failure as he plunges out of the world in pursuit of his phantom.
Ironically, the only thing which tends to save the narrative level
of this allegory (although it does not quite save it) is the very
fragmentation which intermixes the Taji story with the third tale,
the Media-Babbalanja story and thereby lends the two tales a
minimal appearance of narrative unity.

The intermixture itself, in turn, sheds light upon the in-
tentions and skeletal structure of M. The fact that these
latter two stories continue on together, independent of the tale
which introduced them, is a further indication that the allegory
was the real story in which Melville was interested all along.

The third tale of _H_§_r_d_i_. is what the second should have been.
Babbalanja's and Media's story is the major portion of the book,
in bulk as well as in terms of a resolution of the problems
raised. The first thirty-eight chapters have been exempted for
the ”factual" beginning. Thirty-six chapters more go to book two.
That leaves just a little less than half of the total one- hun-
dred and ninetyQ-five chapters for Mardi's third story. Ostensibly,
M is about Taji's quest. In resolution, it is actually about
the quest and education of the king and the philosopher. As they
all voyage, the inhabitants of the canoe all seek Yillah, but they

all define her differently. Babbalanja learns to reject Yillah

91.
(Odonphi, Astrazzi, or any of the jargon-terms satirically in-
tended) for an earthly value. Media takes a journey, almost
imperceptibly, from isolation to membership in the human com-
mnity.21 Media and Babbalanja find the same basic answer to the
problems of human behavior, and characteristically each one ap-
plies the answer according to his own personality and social
function. They become the only truly rounded, developing charac-
ters in the book, surrounded by a stableful of allegory's puppets.
The parallel between the Taji story and the Media-Babbalanja
story exists on the syrtolic level more coherently and fully than
it does in the narrative progression. Interestingly enough, the
overall definition of Yillah is given in the parallel. That de-
finition is the sum total of that . which each of the voyagers
seeks. The voyage throughout the Archipelago tells us where
Yillah will 291': be found, and each land visited is an implication
about what kind of behavior will not yield her. There is a hint
of this the moment Taji admits that Yillah is really gone and that
he will have to hunt through the world for her:

But hereafter, in words, little more of the maiden,
till perchance her fate be learned.22

The voyage itself serves two functions. It makes a negative
continent on Taji's quest and provides background which makes the
cP-lt'est's synbolism meaningful. At the same time it allows Melville
*0 get down on paper all the Swift-isms he had wanted to write

concerning human society and his own western civilization.

In commenting upon the various behaviors seen during the

92.
voyage, Babbalanja and Media carry the burden of the book's de-
velopment. Had Taji been Babbalanja, and had he rejected the
Serenian.vision, still wishing to enter'the ultimate heaven by
escalade, then Maggi would have been a far more unified book. But
this great portion of Mardi's pages does not belong to Taji on the
narrative level except by the almost gratuitous indirection of his
being in the same canoe with the commentators, Babbalanja and
Media. Therefore, throughout a large portion of the book, the
symbolism.surrounding the Taji story, though not difficult, is
unconnected with the narrative progress and it becomes obscure.

As Matthiessen pointed out, it is artificial symbolism.23
But Matthiessen is not wholly correct in attributing this arti-
ficiality to an indiscriminate borrowing fromimany authors, in-
cluding the peach-juice stylizers of the ladies'-magazine third
raters. It is primarily artificial because it is imposed from.
without; it does not grow from the literal level through an im-
position of order upon the raw'material of incident; it acts as
a.closed unit, leading only back to the Taji story, which is the
symbolic center of Maggi, but which certainly is not the narra-
tional center.21‘

The separation of these centers becomes inevitable in the
forced fragmentation of the book. It may be that fgrggg is the
word, for during the discussion of Lombardo's Koztanza, fragmenta-
tion is championed by the sympathetic character, Babbalanja, and
condemned by the heartless and thoughtless King Abrazza:

ABRAZZA.-—...But, Babbalanja, theKoztanza lacks cohesion;

It is wild, unconnected, all episode

BABBALANJA.-And so is Mardi itself: -nothing but
episodes; valleys and hills; rivers, digressing from
plains; vines, roving all over; boulders and diamonds;
flowers and thistles; forests and thickets; and, here
and there, fens and moors. And so, the world in the
KO 21.388 23 o

ABRAZZA.-Ay, plenty of dead-desert chapters there;
horrible sands to wade through.25

The “Mardi” in Babbalanza's speech refers to the book as well as
the archipelago. Melville seems to have fOund verbalized in
Shakespeare a concept he himself embraced, the concept that art
should follow nature.26 He extended the concept into a belief in
an unconscious following of the creative impulse: "Call it what
you will, loamy, it was a sort of sleepwalking of the mind.
Lombardo never threw down his pen: it dropped from.him; and then,
he sat disenchanted: rubbing his eyes; staring; and feeling faint-
sometimes, almost unto death."27 Hewever, we can not say that
Melville was critically unconscious merely on the strength of this
one passage. In fact, the recognition of the unconscious approach
to creative composition accounts fbr Melville's realization that
the uncritical upwelling of creative vitality brings froth as well
as deep-sea creatures to the surface: "My lords,.../geniuses/
abound in.../trash/l more than any other men in Mardi. Genius is
full of trash. But genius essays its best to keep it to itself;
and giving away its ore, retains the earth; whence, the too fre-
quent wisdom.of its works, and folly of its life."28 Moreover,
Lombardo and Babbalanja make statements which are highly cognizant

of critical necessities. Babbalanja, speaking for Lombardo, says,

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91»
"For I am critic and creator; and as critic, in cruelty surpass
all critics merely, as a tiger, ,jackals."29 For himself, Babba-
lanja adds, "...Lombardo never presumed to criticize true critics;
who are more rare than true poets. A great critic is a sultan
among satraps; but pretenders are thick as ants, striving to
scale a palm, after its aerial sweetness."3O And Lombardo is
quoted as saying, "Who will read me? Say one thousand pages-—
twenty-five lines each-«every line ten words-every word ten
letters. That's two million five hundred thousand 3's, and _i_'s,

and 3's to read!31 32

How many are superfluous?"
These passages are at once a revelation of creative method
and a rationalization, a bit of forearming against criticism which,
at this point, Melville was sure would be obvious.33 What is im-
portant is that Melville recognized the fragmentation, yet tried
to justify it rather than correct it. In this sense too, m
is Melville's supreme piece of self-indulgence. Finally, a con-
fusion of art and life would hardly be the best defense for the

man who had scoffed at the verity-seekers among the readers of
3129.9. and m. This confusion would not be a good defense for
the man who had obviously recognized the craftsman's uses of se—
lection and intensification in 21222: Least of all is this con-
fusion a defense for a man who writes allegory unconcerned as
yard; is with mere verisimilitude or slice-of—life reality.
Because the fragmentation breaks up successful progression of

any single story, there is a jarring inconsistency in the delinea—

tion of the narrator.3h The first book is clearly in the first

95..
person, and the narrator is clearly Taji—not-yet—named—Taji. This
narrator, by implication, is definitely within the world at pre-
sent, safe, looking back upon his past adventures after the book
is finished:

Good old Arcturionl maternal craft, that rocked me
so often in thy heart of oak, I grieve to tell how I
deserted thee on the broad deep...

Old ship! where sails they lone ghost now? For of
stout Arcturion no word was ever heard, from the dark
hour we pushed from.her fated planks...

By quitting the Arcturion when we did, Jarl and I
unconsciously eluded a sailor's grave...And for myself
I am almost tempted to hang my head, that I escaped the
fate of my shipmates...35

Yet at the end of the book we know that the narrator is not possi-
6

bly in any such position implied by the point of view.3 we might

say that immersed in the introduction, Melville paid no attention

to a need for consistency with the end of the book. Yet, some

two hundred pages later, already deep into the allegory, the

‘ narrator again adopts the same point of view:

As in dreams I behold thee again, Willamillal as in
dreams, once again I stroll through the cool shady
groves, oh fairest of the valleys of Mardis the thought
of that mad merry feasting steals over my soul till I
faint.

There are other disturbing features about this narrator. Al-
though the general narration is in the first person (usually plu-
ral), there are scattered passages wherein Taji is relegated to a
third person with no indication of who is now doing the talking:

Seeing all these indications of hard roystering;
like a cautious young bridegroom.at his own marriage
merrybmaking Taji stood on his guard. And when
Borabolla urged him to empty a gourd or two, by way of

making room in him for the incidental repast about to be
served, Taji civilly declined; not wishing to cumber the

9.6...

floor, before the cloth was laid.38

To further confuse matters, Taji is sometimes referred to in
the third person, but with clear indication that it is Taji talk-
ing about himself:

This recital filled Taji with horror.

Who could these avengers be, but the sons of him I
had slain. g had thought them far hence, and msslf
forgotten... 9

The very end of the book spotlights the inextricable dilemma
into which the narrative fragmentation has forced Melville and
his narrator. During the very last bit of action, when Taji
abandons the world and suicides himself into stemity, the narra-
tion is still first person:

"New I n Iv own soul's emperor; and aw first act
is abdication! Hail! realm of shadesl'wand turning my
prow into the racing tide, which seized me like a hand
omnipotent, I darted through.

Churned in foam, that outer ocean lashed the clouds;

and straight in In white take, headlong dashed a shallop,
three f ed specters leaning o'er its prow: three arrows

poising.

At this crucial point, the first person narrator withdraws—-
as he would have to if there is to be anyone left to write ”the
and" to the tale—and some other narrator, who has been dodging
in and out of the story as convenience or forgetfulnsss dictates,
again takes over in order to wave a fig; mg to Taji and his
speeters:

And thus, pursuers and pursued fled on, over an
endless sea.

THE mm“

It is also the end of the reader's bewildered attempt to

..‘

9?.
determine Just who is telling the story.

The narrative fragmentation of 535g; causes other'structural
breakdowns which areprbbably less important than those Just men-
tioned, but which, nevertheless, help to destroy the book. For
instance, the voyagers travel in a geography of allegorical ab-
straction, vaguely positioned in the south seas. But in Chapter
GILN ('Chiefly of King Belle“), they enter a geographical area
which is not of the south seas. The TaJi-notqyet-nameddTaji narb
rator was painstaking in outlining his plan to drift eventually
to the Kings-ill group of islands. The first few pages of 5113;
are spotted with the details of location which belong to the
"factual“ introduction. In the Taji story and the Media-Babbalanja
story, the reader must shift gears into a willing suspension of
disbelief and accept the Mardian Archipelago (somewhere near the
Kingsnills) not as an Earthly entity, but as an allegorical
parallel with no location discoverable on a.map. Suddenly, still
in the allegorical Mardiof the non—discoverable south seas, the
reader voyages to Dominora (England) and must accept this obvious
bit of the northeast Atlantic .3 being somewhere in a nonexistent
corner of the southwest Pacific. Melville makes the further mis-
take of Jarring the reader's acceptance (nowrsomewhat strained) by
identifying his allegorical creations with the geographical Earth.
For example, when explaining King Bella's marriage to the sea here
in the middle of Mardi, the narrator recalls similar ceremonies hy
Jason, Castor'and Pollux of Greece, Aeneas of Troy, Mark Antony

and Cleopatra of Egypt, Torf-Egill of Denmark, Doge Dandolo of

98.-
Venice, Kunbo Sana of Japan, and Kannakoko of New Zealand. The

reader cannot determine which world he is in. It would be silly
to demand a consistent geogaphy for an imaginary land used for
satirical purposes, but political satire is only part of the func-
tion of this section of the book. One particular portion of the
Media-Babbalanja story cannot so conveniently be divorced geograph-
ically from the rest of the other. abstract and symbolic Mardi
silply because the author wills it so. He must make it so. and he

does not.

Melville continues to confuse the reader by assuming for Mardi
a geography identical with the real Earth. There is a voyage
around Scotland (Kaleedoni), Ireland (Verdanna), then to continen-

tal lurcpe (Porpheero), where they see the coast of France (Franko)
and where Media is frightened by the revolution of 1848. Then the
voyage continues westward across the Atlantic-Pacific to the United
States (Yivenaa). where the travellers visit awhile. then south,
overland, through the United States. and then out the Gulf of Mexi-
co. down the east coast of South America (Kolumbo of the South),
westward around Cape Horn (the Cape of Capes) and northward to the
west coast of North America, where the travellers view the gold
rush. Then the trip continues across the Pacific (the Pacific-
Pacific. this time”, past lush isles where Mardi is supposed to be
in the first place. southward along the coast of Asia (Orienda) and
Africa (Hanora), around the Cape of Good Hope. northward to the
Straits of Gibraltar. through which the travellers sail eastward
with Burcpe's Christendom on their left and North Africa's Isles: on
their right. to the furthest reach of the Mediterranean. at which

his:

CM?

I?

. Q.
"_‘I
D

75‘

99.
point they turn around and sail back out to the wide Atlantic.
At this point, Melville simply asks the reader to disregard the
specific geographical regions just caricatured and to believe

2
himself once more in the Mardi of the south Pacific} The
chapter'ends:

As, after wandering round and round some purple
dell, deep in a boundless prairie's heart, the baffled
hunter plunges in; then, despairing, turns once more to
gain the open plain; even so we seekers now curved
round our'keels; and from that inland sea emerged. The
universe again before us; our quest as wide.“3

That ”universe" is the same familiar Atlantic already sailed
over'on the journey to Vivenza. But-the next chapter opens
blithely in Hardil "Morning dawned upon that same mild, blue
Lagoon as erst; and all the lands that we had passed...were faded

bk
from the sight."

It is all like the children's Saturday afternoon serialized
cliff-hanger'movics, which always manage to get the hero out of
impossible scrapes. Either the 'factual' introduction should have
taken place in a sea unknown rather than the real Pacific, or the
lap of Mardi should not have been.so confusingly similar’to that
of the real Earth. ‘Hhen'the narrator exslahas, n0h, reader, list!
I've chartless voyaged," he makes a truer statement than he knows
as far as the narrative structure is concerned.

The chartlessness of narrative is noticeable in one other

1‘78. area or Mardi, and toth 13 the haph‘zau'lness of incident it...

self. One of the worst accusations that can be levelled against
the quality of the book is that there is no steady incremental de«

velopment of sylbol, meaning, plot or characterization in the

 

 

100.
incidents. That is not to say that there is no development at all
in the incident, but that the incident follows no plan of arrange-
ment. There is no reason, for instance, why the visit to Valapes
should precede the visit to Juam. Except for its last paragraph,
there is no function.for'the chapter*on "The See.on.Fire." ‘With
many other chapters developing the qualities of the sea, there is
no reason why reiterative chapters like those which tell "More
about Being in An Open Boat" were considered necessary. Nor can
I find any'reason why incidents like those in Chapter CXXI (”They
Regalc Themselves with Their Pipes") were included at all.“5

Sometimes necessary action which impinges upon the major
characters is made unnecessarily obtrusive by being injected as
mechanically'as the visits of Hautia's heralds. These bits of
action become triggers for launching buckshot projectiles of dis-
course. For instance, Vee—Vee falls and breaks his arm like an
obliging little chap only so that Babbalanja may enter upon a

‘6 'While the story of Don-

lengthy sermon on necessitarianism.
Jalolo's emissaries to the outside world has a.meaning reflexive

to Hardi's there, it is presented so mechanically that it seems as
if the story is told only so that Babbalanja may make a summary
statement about the relativity of truth. The mechanical appearance.
the dry reiteration stems from one basic fault: Melville is not
content, in.hgrdi, to let the incident speak for itself. He limits
the possibilities with tich incident creates further levels out
of itself by constantly stretching a topping of statement over a

Piece of creation, and he does this again and again throughout the

t._

533x.

.0

the i:

3111 I

 

101.
book. The fault of unnecessary statement and reiteration will
irritate the clever reader and will bore the reader who seeks only
the interest of plot.

One example will serve to illustrate what too high a percentage
of Mardi's incident is like. As Taji, Media, Babbalanja, gt. a_l_.
sail to Serenia, one of the oarsmen falls into the sea.

But a sudden splash, and a shrill, gurgling sound,
like that of a fountain snbsiding, now broke upon the
air. Then all was still, save the rush of waves by our
k”1e ’

"Save him! Put back!" ,

From his elevated seat, the merry bowsman, too glee-
fully'reaching forward, had fallen into the lagoon.

with all haste, our speeding canoes were reversed;
but not till we had darted in upon another darkness than
that in wish the bowsman fell.

As, blindly, we groped back, deep Night dived deeper
down in the sea.

"Drop paddles all, and list.”

Holding their breath, over the six gunwhales all
now leaned; but the only moans were the wind's.

Long time we lay thus; then slowly crossed and re-
crossed our track, almost hopeless; but yet loth to leave
him who, with a song in his mouth, died and was buried
in a breath. -

”Let us away,“ said Media—”why seek more? He is
SWe.

"Av, gone," said Babbalanja, "and whither? But a
meat since, he was among us; now, the fixed stars are
not more remote than he. So far off, can he live? Oh,
One! this death thou ordainest unmans the manliest. Say
not nay, w lord. Let us not speak behind Death's back.
Hard and horrible is it to die; blindfold to leap from
life's verge! But thus, in clouds of dust, and with a
trampling as of hoofs, the generations disappear; death
driving them all into his treacherous told, as wild
Indians the bison herds. Nay, nay, Death is Life's last
despair. Hard and horrible is it to die. Oro himself,
in Alla, died not without a grean. Yet wry, win live?
Life is wearisome to all: the same dull round. Day and
night, owner and winter, round about us revolving for
aye. One moment lived, is a life. No new stars appear
in the sky; no new lights in the soul. Yet, of changes
there are mam. For though, with rapt sight, in child-
hood, we behold many strange things beneath the moon,
and all Mandi looks a tented fair—how soon everything

f“

f.

0--

 

102 .

fades. All of us, in our very bodies, outlive our own
selves. I think of green youth as of a merry playmate
departed; and to shake hands, and be pleasant with my
old age, seems in prospect even harder, than to draw a
cold stranger to aw bosom. But old age is not for me.

I an not of the stuff that grows old. This Mardi is _
not our home. Up and down we wander, like exiles trans-
ported to a planet afar:--'tis not the world _v_re_ were
born in; not the world once so lightsone and gay; not
the vorld where we once merrily danced, dined, and sup-
ped; and wooed and wedded our long buried wives. Then
let us depart. But thither? We push ourselves forward-
then, start back in affright. Essay it again, and flee.
Hard to live; hard to die; intolerable suspense! But
the grim despot at last interposes; and with a viper in
our winding-sheets, we are dropped in the sea."

”To se,‘ said Mohi, his gray locks damp with night
dews, death's dark defile at times seems at hand, with
no voice to cheer. That all have died makes it not
easier for me to depart. And that many have been
quenched in infancy seems a mercy to the slow perishing
of my old age, limb by limb and sense by sense. I have
long been the tomb of my youth. And more has died out
of me, already, then remains for the last death to
finish. Babbalanja says truth. In childhood, death
stirred me not; in niddle age, it pursued me like a
prowling bandit on the road; now, grown an old man, it
boldly leads the way; and ushers me on; and turns round
upon me its skeleton gaze: poisoning the last solaces
of life. Maram but adds to ny gloom.”

"Death! death!“ cried Tom, “must I be not, and
millions be? Must I go, and the flowers still bloom?
Oh, I have marked that it is to be dead;-—how shouting
boys on holidays, hide-snd-seek among the tombs, which
lust hide all seekers at last."

"Clouds on clouds!n cried Media, ”but away with them
all! Uhy not leap your graves while ye may? Time to
die, when death comes, without dying by inches. 'Tis no
death, to die; the only death is the fear of it. I, a
dud-god, fear death not.'57 [The discussion of death
and God continues for another entire pageJ

Melville has not yet learned to let incident carry its share
of thels's burden. He transfers symbolic growth from the device
0! action to the device of conversation, and for this reason Magi}
“pears to be such a ceaselessly 'talky" book.

Moreover, the oarsmen are mentioned only two or three times in

the
tion
is n

14'
82..

a! c

the:

feel:

den:

e321;

50:!

 

 

 

1,03.
the course of the entire book. This particular oarsman is non-
tioned here for the first and only tine. His sudden introduction
is not the only hint of unincorporated action. The dialogue it-
self after the first three sentences of Babbalanja's soliloqw,
makes no mention of the oarsnan (who has fulfilled his function
of convenient death and is now dispensed with; about whom neither
the narrator, the major characters, nor the reader can have am
feeling). The dialogue centers either upon generalizations about
death or upon revelation of characteristics of whoever happens to
be speaking. The serum night just as well never have died: the
entire discussion could have been introduced by Media's calling
for talk, as he so often does; or by Babbalanja'e unstinulated
volunteering of talk, varieh so often occurs. The incident itself
is not really incorporated into the discussion of the talkers. It
can have nothing whatsoever to do with any other action that led
up to it (for there was none) or any action vhich proceeds fron it
(for there is none). It is fortuitous and gratuitous. It is an
example of the rare [ing of passage in which Melville stands guilty
of cheap and easy writing.“

One suple of another kind of fragmentation will close these
suggestions about Mardi's narrative structure. Not only is inci-
dent sonetines unrelated to the book proper, but very often pieces
of dialogue within an incident bech fragnented so that a con- '
tinned stretch of talk will incorporate sections unrelated to any-
thing but Melville's desire to say what he wants to say, necessary

or mt. For instance, after one of Babbalanja's disquieitions,

(I

miss
an
cor-ac

NC:

a, s,
.
‘na

 

. 101,.
which is a lecture upon the need for equal balance and cosperation
between mind and body and upon the evolutionary source of all men's
corporeal twinge—including those of kings—the conversation shifts
unaccountably:

“Babbalanja,” said Mohi, "you must be the last of
the kangaroos.‘I '

”I III, HOhie'

I'But the old fashioned pouch or purse of your
grandam?" hinted Media.

“My lord, I take it, that must have been trans-
ferred; nowadays our sex carried the purse.

-"Ha, ha!"

”My lord, win this mirth? [The reader also wonders,7
Let us be serious. Although man is no longer a kangaroo,
he may be said to be an inferior species of plant. Plants
proper are perhaps insensible of the circulation of their
sap: we mortals are plvsically unconscious of the circu-
lation of the blood; and for many ages we were not even
aware of the fact. Plants know nothing of their in-
teriors:-three score years and ten we trundle about
ours, and never get a peep at their; plants stand on
their stalks;--we stalk on our legs; no plant flourishes
over its dead root: --dead in the grave, man lives no
longer above ground; plants die without food;--so we.
And now for the difference. Plants elegantly inhale
nourishment, without looking it up: like lords they
stand still and are served; and though green, never suf-
fer from the colic: «whereas, we mortals must forage
all round for our food: we cram our insides; and are
leaded dean with odious. sacks and intestines. Plants
make love and multiply; but excell us in all amorous
entice-ants, wooing and winning by soft pollens and
essences. Plants abide in one place, and live: we must
travel or die.-. Plants flourish without us: we must
perish without than. “‘9

Thuatically, this passage is related to a symbolically created
theme. But Babbalanja has already given enough clues about the
basic unity of creation and about his doubts of i-ortality. This
addition is unnecessary. But especially after the wards, ”And now
for the difference,’ the dialogue becones totally irrelevant and

mint-inst ing .

4

has

hasha:

there

I 10::

“a

.19?

Because the overall narrative structure of the book falls
apart, the components of the structure's segments follow only the
haphazard needs of the moment and also break into unrelated sec-
tions. The overall narrative structure breaks, causing fractures
in smaller and smaller sections of the story. The topmost stone
is built upon sand.

II

When we turn from the narrative structure to symbol and the

theme arising from symbol, we discover a totally different world,

a totally new Mardi. Characterisation provides the best approach
to this new world.

Mandi opens exactly as does 11222: The protagonist is weary
of a stale sea cruise, and the weariness immediately makes his
characteristics apparent. He is set apart from the ship's com.
munity. he differs from his shipmates in desires and sensibilities.
“And what to me, [he says] thus pining for some one who could page
Is a quotation from Burton on Blue Devils; what to me, indeed,
were flat repetitions of long-drawn yarns, and the everlasting
stanzas of Black-eyed Susan sung by our full forecastle choir?
Staler than stale ale.”50 In the comitments of daily men and
daily living he does not find the kind of history he would create.

...The sailors were good follows all, the half-score
of pagans we had shipped at the islands included. Never-
theless, they were not precisely to m mind. There was
no soul a magnet to mine; none with whom to mingle
sympathies; save in deploring the calms...Under other

‘ and livelier auspices the tarry lmaves might have de-
veloped qualities more attractive...But as it was, there

was naught to strike fire from their steel...
Ay, ay, Arcturioni I say it in no malice, but thou

Q

106..
not exceedingly dull. Not only at sailing: hard though
it as, that I could have borne; but in every other
respect...ye lost and leaden hours, I will rail at ya
while life lasts.51 ‘

Temper tossed Taji displays the characteristics of the quest
figure early in the book.52 Life as is is a waste of time for
him. In a curious bit of dialogue indicative of the quester's
attitude toward the lot of man, the captain and the protagonist
foreshadow the plight of the quester and of man. "Captain,' said
I, touching aw sombrero to him as I stood at the wheel one day,
'It's very hard to carry me off this way to purgatory. I shipped
to go elsewhere.'

I"Yes, and so did I,‘ was his reply. 'But it can't be
helped, '53...“ The quester has visions of heaven. In the-very
act of being born, in the very act of existence, he points toward
heaven. If he doesn't like the direction the world takes, regard-
less of responsibilities or consequences, he abandons it. Again,
as in 2233, the protagonist is introduced as the isolato who
wishes to absent himself either from the cruelty or the dusty
deadness of society in order to find himself a Golden-Age Paradiszl.‘

Taji (not yet named TaJi) gases off into vaults of sky. He
drifts loose from the hampering cables of this mother-ship of his
own torld. The Arcturion is the society of this real world, and
Taji calls it a "maternal heart of oak.” As early as we can see
Taji, he carries his visions, "towing argosies by the score,"
trembling, gasping, and straining in flight to go beyond the
shoals, which are, "like nebulous vapors, shoreing the white reef

of the Milky Hay, against which the wrecked worlds are dashed."55

e?

1.0.7:.
At first introduction we do not see Taji's frenzy. But as he
watches the arching gateways to another world, we see his pre-
disposition to leave the world, and then we see his frenzy.

In the distance that visions were spread! The
entire western horizon piled high with gold and crimson
clouds; airy arches, domes and minarets; as if the
yellow, Moorish sun were setting behind some vast
Alhambra. Vistas seemed leading to worlds beyond. To
and fro, and all over the towers of this Nineveh in the
sky, flew troops of birds. Watching them long, one
crossed my sight, flew through a low arch, and was lost
to view. My spirit must have sailed in with it; for
directly, as in a trance, came upon me the cadence of
mild billows laving a beach of shells, the waving of
boughs, and the voices of maidens, and the lulled beat-
ings of my own dissolved heart, all blended together.

Now, all this, to be plain, was but one of the nary
visions one has up aloft. But coming upon me at this
time, it wrought upon me so, that thenceforth aw desirg 6
to quit the Arcturion became little short of a frenzy.

This is really Taji's first view of Yillah. The predisposi-
tion to find her is apparent before the predisposition can be ob-
jectified in the meeting with Yillah. But it will be activated in
the very act of the desertion of the Arcturion long before Yillah
is introduced. The quester will seek heaven and will gain it by
escalade if need be, or he will make no voyage at all. Taji knows
that because of his relationship with the real world and because
of his view of itthat he will desert it. Again, as in 12222! the
legal niceties are the surface appearances that are not basic to
the real motives for the desertion and the journey into ”worlds
beyond.” At the moment he thinks of stealing one of the ship's
boats in order to desert, Taji waives the legalities in the same
breath with wish he invokes than. Nor do the legalities and ap-

pearances have the same strength they had in mg, where the

The characte:
PfediSpositic
through (,3. ,
the 'nfls ‘:
“9139?: of A

lined it! a:

mu till I
ten ““11 av
Kain her: now
lit u J‘rl
3.313“ to a
by his ”Vela‘.
{Rich Prevail.
Va:
152'}.
I“.
'3 .
to
ly
he,
“a!
It

$93 °.

captain was a brute.57

Hy first thoughts were of the boat to be obtained,
and the right or wrong of abstracting it, under the
circumstances. But to split no hairs on this point, let
me say that were I placed in the same situation again,

I would repeat the thing I did then. The captain well
know that he was going to detain me unlawfully; against
our agreement; and it was he himself who threw out the
verysgint which I merely adopted, with many thanks to
him.

The characteristic is unbending will. The thing revealed is the
pmdisposition. Neither ever changes, for the Taji who quests
through the allegorical archipelago is the same man who abandoned
the I'real" Arcturion. Much later, when shot at, and missed by the
avengers of Aleema, Taji examines the arrow and says, "Then it
missed its aim. But I will not mine. And whatever arrows follow,
still will I hunt on. Nor does the ghost, that these pale spec-
ters vould avenge, at all disquiet me. The priest I slew but to
gain her, now lost; and I would slay again to bring her back."59
Just as Jarl is at first shocked by Taji's revelation of his de-
cision to abandon the Arcturion, so Taji's companions are shocked.
by his revelation of pure murderous will. It is this same will
which prevails upon Jarl to help in the act of withdrawal:

At last he very bluntly declared that the scheme
was a crazy one; he had never known of such a thing but
thrice before; and in every case the runaways had never
afterwards been heard of. He entreated me to renounce
wy determination, not be a boy, pause and reflect, stick
to the ship, and go home in her like a man...

But to all this I turned a deaf ear; affirming that
w mind was made up; and that as he refused to accompany
me, and I fancied no one else for a so do, I sould go
btark alone, rather than not at all...

It has never been properly emphasised that Taji is the quester be-

fore he meets Iillah, and that the Arcturion episode is a

definition of
the essential
in the char-a:
the character
the course of
been! of, Taj
he is a new I:
for the first
direct his {at
mm with tr
Yilhh, he ea;-

10$-

definition of Taji through symbolic action. Chapter one sets up
the essential character of Taji and reveals that conscious will
is the character's identifying trait. By the and of chapter five,
the character is settled in a mold that never changes throughout
the course of M.“ is a ”man overboard“ never afterwards
heard of, Taji ”dies” to the world of the Arcturion. For a while
he is a new figure, that of the canoe aboard the Chamois. Then
for the first time he becones captain of the means which can
direct his fate when he becomes master of the Parki. This life
"dies' with the sinking of the ship. After the meeting with
Iillah, he emerges as Taji, a god'fron the sun, and this new life,
tich is an affiliation with other-worldliness, is the protagoé
nist's najor’role throughout the rest of the book. However, Taji
never undergoes any character change as would be suggested by the
synbolic use of i-ersion-in-water, the cycle of death and re-
birth.

In Taji we have the monomaniac, the quest figure in full
stature. He stocks up for pursuit of his private vision by steal—
ing fron the world conunity of the Arcturion. The transfer or
plunder of the means of existence .has. been adunbrated in m,
and again in 555;; we find that no one willingly allows the quester
to transfer worlds. The quester must be a stealthy liar. The
world has more care that the world exist and that society not be
torn apart than that the quester attain his vision.62 The quester,
on the other hand, adorns the world, and places his individuation

and his ideal e. the highest values in the cosmos. The pilfering

,Q

1111..
of the ship's stores is the same as the thoughtless exploitation
of Typee nature or the wanton destruction of the leviathan. The
act. of pilfering becomes the symbol of the spoilation and loss
that accompanies the action of the isolato who does not bring his
vision to bear on the struggles, needs, and values of the real
world in thich he lives. The withdrawal fron the real world is
the first death, the first suicide of self and the first possible
murder of the world. It is accompanied by the remorse and guilt
irich call for the salve of legal niceties. That those nicieties
never stop the pursuit of guilt is sometimes stated and often
implied, as in Chapter VII ('1 Pause"):

«dad for myself I am alnost tempted to hang my
head, that I escaped the fate of In shinnates; some-
thing like him who blushed to have escaped the fell

. carnage at The mopylae.

Though I cannot repress a shudder when I think of
that old ship's end, it is impossible for no so much as
to imagine, that our deserting her could have been in
any way instrumental in her loss. Nevertheless, I would
to Heaven the Arcturion still floated; thga it was given
me once more to tread her familiar decks.

It is futile to condecture whether or not one or two men
posted in the right places at the right time would have saved the
Arcturien. But it is important that underlying Taji's absolution
of his one guilt is the undying shudder of guilt. It is especially
important that this early in the book, because he acts like a ”boy”
rather than like a “nan,“ Taji and guilt are inextricably associa-
ted. The entire Arcturion episode is a foreshadowing of and a
miniature of the more highly stylised plight of the later Taji.

Accompanying the stealing, symbolic suicide, and possible

murder which characterise withdrawal from the world, there is a

/‘

 

‘9

111.
further necessity for deceit. Taji has to make all the plans,
for Jarl is too honest for well executed indirections. Taji con-
fonds his shimtes with a call of death on the open wastes of
a midnight sea. The “man overboard!" is the obituary of the man
net-yet-namcd-fl'aji as, like Tommo, he casts himself adrift from
his known, western world. At the same time it is the deceit by
iiich he manages his transfer from one world to another. Deceit,
in fact, accompanies almost all of Taji's words.

Hhem Jarl and Taji board the Parki, Samoa tells his story in
candid detail. Taji projects his om deceit to Samoa and at first
does not believe a single word. And Taji cloaks himself in
deceitful mystery—by means of which he assumes an attitude which
will further as much as possible the carrying out of his own un-
yielding will:

Hy em curiosity satisfied with respect to the
brigantine, Samoa himself turned inquisitor. He de-
sired to know the we were; and whence we came in our
marvelous boat. But on these heads I thought it best
to withhold from him the truth; among other things,
fancying that if disclosed, it would lessen his de-
ference for us, as men superior to himself. I there-
fore spoke vaguely of our adventures, and assumed the
decided air of a master; which I perceived was not lost ..
upon the rude Islander. As for Jarl, and what he might
reveal, I embraced the first Opportunity to impress
upon him the importance of never divulging our flight
from the Arcturion; nor in any way to comit himself
on that hung," injunctions which he faithfully promised
to observe.

Taji bends everything to suit his on individual driving vision.
So far, he has done nothing to convince the reader that he is as
good a man as Samoa,.let alone a better; yet he gains ascendency

over the Islander by means of a deceit which is a tacit

r.

We
remmnciation of earthly'origins and.mortal being. He uses Jarl's
lqyalty in a way which.makes the dupe out of the honest man, and
which finally results in the dupe's death. He attempts to fashion
‘Iillah to his human needs, and then he disregards all in his at-
tempt to regain her when his very attempt causes her’disappear—
ance.6s

Taji's deceit as well as his vision always associates him
with “worlds beyond." His deceit makes his a sungod. His vision
hurls him after Iillah, who is identified with heaven rather than
earth. his deceit makes him quite content to leave Samoa and
Annatoo with the impression that he is a ghost, or'at least a
miracle man. His vision results in the sacrifice of the human
and earthly~the deaths of Samoa and Jarl. Taji never becomes
the tool of earthly endeavor. He never'yields to Jarl or Samoa,
and it is inconceivable to think of Taji abandoning his set path
for’Jarl as Jarl does for him, finally and irrevocably. Taji's
deceit and TaJi's vision.are the same in.terms of results. ‘Ihen
we turn this consideration inward upon the pragmatism.which impells
the major theme of the book, it becomes apparent that Taji's
vision is a thing which deceives Taji himself. In short, it is a
revelation of the major*theme, that pursuit of heaven, of the pure
and ideal absolute is a.murderous delusion. In Taji, we do not
have an adumbretion of Ahab; we have Ahab. Recognition of Taji is
deterred by three aspects of his presentation. (1) He feels re-
morse more often than does Ahab, not yet having been as dehumanised

by the monomania of quest before the book opens. By the end of

the book he 1
often as Ana:
action and it
smears less
mund'mg the
being, as fa}
is dismissed

Inedia°
”’3“ But a
hilt Iith a
”'98 n mm
mtivating f:

'
0‘ "1° questt

 

 

1213'.-
the book he is as totally dehumanized. (2) He is not heard as
often as Ahab, so that the similarity must be found largely in
action and its consequences rather than in speech. (3) Taji
appears less terrible than Ahab in the eyes of the people sur-
rounding the two men. Essentially, however, he is as terrible a
being, as false a Prometheus. When remorse does come to Taji, it
is dismissed as quickly as it is by Ahab.

Inediately following the murder of Aleema, Taji feels re-
morse. But at the very instance of realization, Taji covers his
guilt with a deceitful statement of appearances which in turn be.
comes a further manifestation of the iron will that is the real
motivating force. Mind and will shape more clearly the character
of the quester at this crucial point.

...what.irem mace fell upon my soul; what curse rang
sharp in av car! It was I, who was the author of the
deed that caused the shrill wails that I heard. By this
hand, the dead man had died. Remorse smote no hard;
and like lightning I asked myself, whether the death-
deed I had done was sprung of a virtuous motive, the
recuing a captive from thrall; or tether beneath that
pretense, I had engaged in this fatal affray for some
other, and selfish purpose; the companionship of a
beautiful maid. But throttling the thought, I swore
to be gay. Am I not rzzcuing the maiden? Let them go
down she withstand me.

So Taji's quest begins in suicide and murder, flight and
deceit. Murder, deceit and flight are duplicated, concretely
realised in action, when Taji obtains Yillah. The quest itself is
attended by murder before Taji engages in it: the wronged man,
Aleema, had himself committed murder in keeping Iillah, and murder
had been co-itted in gaining her. The history of the other

worlder is steeped in murder, guilt, and revenge. There is no

we.

g 114.
evidence that Melville is saying that the ideal attained through
murder cannot be kept. In fact. the opposite way be true. for
at the end of the book, the enlightened Media correctly engages
in violence in order to gain a. m ideal. What is germane is
that in the develOpment of the quester's character. the action
shows that the man motivated as Taji is motivated. striving for
W ideal. is not the man to bring peace out of murder
or order out of chase.” ‘

From the foreshadowing given in the "factual" introduction,
we expect that death will result from TaJi's quest. And we see
an incremental develoPment of evil upon evil with every new view
of the attempt to gain Iillah. There is a suggestion of Aeschy-
lean tragedy: man must stOp his activity in this direction. or
murder and revenge will multiply through the generations. In
this sense. there is another symbolic wedding between the book
of TaJi and the book of Media and Babbalanja, in which the 519;;
g; whine does interpose new values and. in love and strength,
resolves the tensions and puts a’st0p to the incremental sins of
history by ending m's feverishly erroneous activities.

in m foresaw. and the later books confirm, the pro-
tagonist, as in the Hemingway ingroup, is an insomniac.68
Aboard the Parki. Taji tries to prod his fellows into wake-
fulness at night in order to keep the Parki ploughing on in
the direction TaJi pursues. He complains, "For Samoa; his
drowsiness was the drowsiness of one bent on sleep, come dreams
or death. He seemed insensible to the perils we ran. Often I

sent the sleepy savage below, and steered myself till morning.
At last I made a point of slumbering much by day. the

better to at:
regularly go

'Jarl, th:

 

the Typee sa':

 

the values of

mi.
ob:
on:
of
Pearances, t.
Meet-m in .
Yet
A- b so Jarl. I

“”1 is

 

Mimi th.

   

We: of 3:" .
c-

on . I
"elvi‘le’i

 

115.
better to stand watch by night; though I made Samoa and Jarl
regularly go through with their allotted feur hours each.“69
And Jarl, though not possessed of the sleep—unconsciousness of
the Typee savage, is closer to the values of land-humanity than to
the values of the searoving quester:

Though in all else, the Skyeman proved a most faith-
ful ally, in this one thing he was either perversely
obtuse, or infatuated. Or, perhaps, finding himself
once more in a double-decked craft, which rocked him as
of yore, he was lulled into a deceitful security.70

It is only that master deceiver, the quester, who shies from ap—
pearances, trying to make his enormous vision pierce through to
the other-world. Engaged in this activity, his securities and
concerns in this world are either nonexistent or past caring about.
Not so Jarl.

Jarl is important for two reasons. First of all, it is
partially through Jarl that Yillah is defined. Secondly, for pur-
poses of analysis Jarl helps to illustrate the shifting patterns
of Melville's use of symbolic material, and illustrates this in
such a way as to make clear that the reader must take each symbol,
or what he thinks is a symbol, as it comes rather than to try to
interpret one symbol by another because of apparent similarity be-
tween them. For instance, Jarl is first introduced as an alien to
the south Pacific world of Mardi.

Jarl hailed from.the Isle of Skye, one of the con—
stellated Hebrides. Hence, they often called him the
Skyeman...his long yellow hair waved round his head like
a sunset. My life for it, Jarl, thy ancestors were
Vikings...and are now quaffing mead in the halls of

Valhalla, and beating time with their cans to hymns of
the Sealde.71

 

it first we a:
a quester.
ville stuient
relates a bean
ings, which hi

he is silent

 

P.
bane-z
'1'
\ H
U ‘ {
he Fe"
'&
tears”

lléc

At first we are tempted to consider Jarl another other-worlder or
a quester. He is a Skyeman-a preposition seductive to the Mel-
ville student. He is fairhhaired, and the mention of his ancestor
relates a heavenly other-world to Jarl. He is in alien surround-
ings, which hints at the isolato. In complexion he is dark, and
he is silent; again because of this apparent similarity to a
familiar pattern of Melvillean oneracterizationrimagery, we would
guess that he is a quester or at least an isolato.

...No lady-like scruples had he, the old Viking, about
marring his complexion, which was already more than
bronzed. Over the ordinary tanning of the sailor, he
seemed masked by a visor of japanning, dotted all over
with freckles, so intensely yellow, and symmetrically
circular, that they seemed scorched there by a burning
glass.72

...But Jarl, dear, dumb Jarl...Thou didst carry a phiz
like an excommunicated deacon's. And no matter what
happened, it was ever the same. Quietly3 in thyself,
thou didst revolve upon thine own sober axis, like a
wheel in a machine which forever goes round...Ay, Jarl!
West not forever intent upon minding that which so many
neglect-thine own especial business? West thou not
forever at it, too, with no likelihood of ever winding
up thy moody affairs, and striking a balance sheet?

...I longed for something enlivening; a burst of words;
human vivacity of one kind or another. After in vain
essaying to get something of this sort out of Jarl, I
tried it all by myself;...till my Viking stared hard;
and I mgself paused to consider whether I had run crazy
or no.7
Also tempting is a descriptive similarity to Fedallah and Ahab.
The dark.man topped with fairness is Fedallah with his shroud-
white turban and is Jarl wdth his streaming yellow hair. The dark
man burned with light marks is Ahab with his pals scar and is Jarl
wdth his yellow freckles. So if we wished to find a consistent

meaning fer Melville's patterns of imagery, we should say that

Q.

.

Jarl is anothe‘

Jarl's I":
the great raj:-
i‘lO thinks 8‘21:
has visions o;‘

terrestrial a);

Forecastle :51.
said honest Ja
tml?) who can

59mm of his

 

1I7.
Jarl is another quester. And we should be completely wrong.

Jarl's relation to immortality is no different than that of
the great majority of the quester's worldmates. Unlike Yillah,
who thinks she has memories of another life, and unlike Taji who
has visions of other worlds beyond, Jarl is conscious only of his
terrestrial existence, and this existence is all that fills his
memory of his origins. "Now, among the crew was a fine old sea-
man, one Jarl; how old, no one could ever tell, not even himself.
Forecastle chronology is ever vague and defective. 'Man and boy,‘
said honest Jarl, 'I have lived ever since I can remember.‘ And
truly, who can call to mind when he was not? To ourselves, we
all seem coeval with creation. 'Whence it comes, that it is so
hard to die, ere the world itself is departed."7h'

As for Jarl's being alone and alien, at the very moment this
aspect of his existence is mentioned, it is negated by a long pas-
sage which makes Jarl one with all of man and with all of this
world:

Yet Jarl, the descendent of heroes and kings, was a
lone, friendless mariner on the main, only true to his
origin in the sea-life that he led. But so it has been
and forever will be. What yeoman shall swear that he is
not descended from Alfred? what dunce, that he is not
sprung of old Homer? King Noah, God bless himi fathered
us all. Then hold up your heads, oh ye Helots, blood
potential flows through your veins. All of us have
monarchs and sages for kinsmen; nay, angels and archangels
for cousins; since in antediluvian days, the sons of God
did verily wed with our mothers, the irresistable
daughters of Eve. Thus all generations are blended: and
heaven and earth of one kin: the hierarchies of seraphs
in the uttermcst skies; the thrones and principalities
in the zodiac; the shades that roam throughout space; the
nations and families, flocks and folds of the earth; one
and all brothers in essence-oh, be we then brothers
indeed175

118.
Here, in.relation to Jarl, is the familiar Melville creed of
democracy and common,7human brotherhood, that the whole world is
the patrimony of the whole world.

And what of Jarl's silence? Is his the Special Ahab-language
which so dominates the crew? Is it the silence or stutter which
is the mark of the otheraworlder like Yillah.or Billy Budd? When
Jarl does speak, he Speaks not the language of qlest or heaven,
but the language of common.and earthbound humanity. "Now, in old
Jarl's lingo there was never an idiom. 'Your aboriginal tar is too
much of a cosmopolitan for that. Long companionship with seamen
of all tribes: Manilla-men, Anglquaxons, Cholos, Lascars, and
Danes, wear away in good time all your mother—tongue stammerings.
You sink your clan; down goes your nation; you speak a world's
language, jovially jabbering in the Lingua-Franka of the fore-

76

castle.” Jarl is no wanderer after otheraworlds, nor is he a
soarer or a diver into the mysteries of this world's phenomena.

Jarl knows nothing of books or geography, cares not at all that a
mate page him a quotation from Burton on Blue Devils, and hg‘ggggg
pat; that 59 539353 not. His association with sailing is the associa-
tion of the sailor to his work, the care of the earthman.that he

act like a man and fulfill his social function as well as possible?7
His silence is the silence of the simple man who simply minds his

own business and minds it well.

Ah, Jarl: an honest, earnest wight; so true and
simple, that the secret operations of thy soul were more
inscrutable than the subtle workings of Spinoza's.78
Quietly, in thyself, thou didst revolve upon thine own
sober axis, like a wheel in a machine which forever goes

119.

round, whether you look at it or no. Ay, Jarl: wast
thou not forever intent upon minding that which so many
neglect-thine own especial business. West than not
forever at it, too, with no likelihood of ever winding
up thy moody affairs, and striking a balance sheet?79
His silence has nothing to do with yearnings or philOSOphical
reachings. His silence and mystery is the mystery of the dignity
which surrounds the simple and sincere workman, part of the dignity
which creates reapect for Jack Chase, who is certainly not so angle
a man as Jarl.

But how account for the Skyeman's gravity? surely
it was based on no philosophic taciturniby; he was
nothing of an idealist; an aerial architect; a con-
structor of flying buttresses. It was inconceivable,
that his reveries were Manfred-like and exalted,
reminiscent of unutterable deeds, too mysterious to be
indicated by the remotest of hints. Suppositions all
out of the question.30 A

Jarl's most prominent characteristics are the three virtues
of honesty, simplicity, and loyalty. It is the outstanding loyalty
to friend, taking precedence even over loyalty to work, which ac-
counts fbr Jarl's friendship with Taji, the true isolato and
quester. In an almost parenthetical aside, Taji reveals that his
higher'and most important interests are not shared by Jarl. "Now,
higher sympathies apart, for Jarl I had a wonderful liking; for he
loved me; from the first had cleaved to motel The relationship
which binds Jarl to Taji, then, has nothing to do with quest
generally or with Taji's motives for quest specifically. True to
his prime characteristics, Taji's reasons for chummying with Jarl
are wrapped in self and in will.

So fhr, we have in.Jarl an emblem of the earnest and common

humanity of the workaday world. It is this emblem that is

13°:
manipulated to follow the will of the quester and whose death is
finally caused by the quester.82 One always has the feeling that
Taji scrutinizes the human being, Jarl, with an amused and
Hachiavellian disinterestedness. Even in jest, the visionary sees
the Skyeman, who is entirely the Earthman, in a secondary position,
implying that in the course of quest it is not the quester who
will perish first. The jest also reveals Taji's major attitude
toward Jarl: the amused love and affection of the master fer the
bodyaservant:

In the tragico-comico moods which at times overtook
me, I used to look upon the brown Skyeman with humorous
complacency. If we fall in with cannibals, thought I,
then, ready roasted Norseman that thou art, shall I
survive to mourn thee° at least during the period I re-
volve upon the spit.33

And of course while Taji is spitted upon his own will, roasted over
the hellfire of his own torments, this is precisely what happens.
There are other characteristics which allow us to define Jarl
even.more specifically. For instance, it is Jarl who is concerned
that the water should last;8h in contrast to his companion of the
chartless wandering, it is Jarl who figures out a secure keeping—
place for the compass (which is significantly likened to a hgmgg
eye), and who is frantic lest they lose the compass and flint;85
it is Jarl who suggests that they row in case of a calm (a sug-
gestion of work from which Taji shrinks);86 it is Jarl who keeps

track of time by cutting a daily notch in his oar handle;87

88

it is
Jarl's shoe whidh serves as a water dipper; and summarily, it is
Jarl rather than Taji who is concerned with the means of life and

work, the maintenance of the boat, the human needs for a keeping of

121.
time and direction. Taji, who reclines and philosophises, has
no sympathy for these important concerns. He cannot really under~
atand them. He says, "Oh! Jarl, Jarl; to me in the boat's quiet
stern, steering and philOSOphizing at one time and the same, thou
and thy'[;ater7 breaker were a study."89
Jarl is also industrious. He stitches and darns and knits?O
In order to keep his thirst at a minimum and conserve water, he
foregoes his chewing-tobacco, tobacco and liquor being his only
two indulgences. He is also superstitious. He believes that the
pilot-fish are a good omen.9l He believes that the abandoned
Parki is a ghost ship piloted by Specters. Yet true to his
thrifty character, he will not be deterred from.the main chance.
Finding a bag of coin aboard the Parki, Jarl rings them on a chest
lid. "Sounded on the chest lid, the dollars rang clear as convent
bells. These were put aside by Jarl; the sight of substantial
dollars doing away, fer the nonce, with his superstitious mis-
givings."92
Also true to his character, Jarl, who was never anxious to
withdraw from.the world, is most anxious to rejoin it. When.they
sight the Parki in the distance, Taji and Jarl at first think it is
a whaler. Jarl wishes to hail it and rejoin humanity. Taji wishes
to avoid it in order to pursue no course but his own:
...To be sure, we could not be certain what kind of a
vessel it was; but whatever it might be, I, for one, had
no mind to risk an encounter; for it was quite plain,
that if the stranger came within hailing distance, there
would be no resource but to link our fortunes with hers;

'whereas I desired to pursue none but the Chamois'. As
for the Skyeman, he kept looking wistfully over his

122.

shoulder; doubtless, praying Heaven, that we might not
escape what I sought to avoid.

The emerging adjectives place Jarl in relation to the action
of the book. He is the honest, simple, loyal, frugal, industri-
ous, superstitious and earnest working man. It is this man who
is first to take the necessary actions which give the Parki's
occupants time to abandon ship before it founders in a storm.
(The ship of the Typee world is the wrong world for Taji.) When
Taji takes Yillah to a secluded islet, off the mainland of Odo,
Jarl.maintains his loyalty’§g§.his membership in humanity. Not
prompted to desertion by Taji, he does not abandon the mainland
this time, and he remains with the mass of humanity. At the same
time he is loyal to Taji to the extent of building his wigwam on
the shore facing Taji's isolated retreat.9h

Most important, Jarl is the only character in gargi who is
not impressed by Yillah. His hard headed and practical humanity
never allows him to become interested in the other-world object
of Taji's quest.

But what of my Viking? Why, of good Jarl I grieve
to say, that the old-fashioned interest he took in my
affairs led him to look upon Tillah as a sort of in-
truder, an ammonite §_i_r_e_n___ whom; __‘_gh_t______ lead me astray.
This would now and then provoke a phillipic; but he
would only turn toward my resentment his devotion; and
then I was silent. 5(Italics mine)

The Earthman, in his rejection of the other-worlder, is the Oppo-
site of the quester. Where there is realization (Starbuck) or
virtuous, common humanity (Jarl), the earthman.distrusts the quest

and its goal, and objects to his own abandonment and murder. Jarl,

in his humanity, well knows what to distrust, sensing that Yillah

‘0

.123.
will, as she does, lead Taji astray. But he is inoperative in
preventing Taji's quest, for just as he is loyal to Taji, so
Taji is fanatically'loyal to his ideal. Then the final charac-
teristic of Jarl, stenming from his simplicity and loyalty, is
resignation. He bends to Taji's will, turns dumb devotion to
Taji's abuses, and at last obeys Taji's command that they part
company. And even in the final parting, in the premonition of
the inevitable death to result from.the ahumanity of Taji's quest,
Jarl's action is one of characteristic dumb resignation. "Though
he Spoke not a word, Jarl was long in taking leave. His eyes
seemed to say, I will see you no more.96

Jarl assumes the outlines of the western world's counterpart
of the Typee savage. He might be represented by the general Nordi;
the good, staid burgher who respects authority, the medieval serf
whose labors cleared the wildernesses of EurOpe. In.Typ§g.there
was only one general type of western man. Egggi diaplays ambitions
for a more complete canvas. The primitive counterpart of Jarl is
Samoa. In.his incompleteness and his commonness he is Jarl's
brother. Jarl's incompleteness lies in his inability to carry his
human virtues and practical instincts into physical action worthy
of the man with the vision. That is, he can take the action which
preserves the water breaker, but he cannot take the overall action
I which would preclude in the first place the desertion.which neces-
sitated stealing the water breaker. Once committed to a line of
action by exterior forces, Jarl is an active man. But he is unable

to form his own commitments. Samoa is also incomplete in that his

124.

conscious values are nil. Like Jarl, he responds to the moment,
but without any rationalizing reserve of virtue such as Jarl has,
or of evil, such as gill: EEQQLE Claggart has. His is the
physicality which will allow itself to be committed to any cause
other than its own destruction, whereas Jarl, who does have doubts
and questions, can be committed to his own destruction by those
very characteristics which gave rise to the doubts in the first
place. Jarl is not entranced by the idea of the quest for Yillah,
yet his characteristic of loyalty will not allow him to abandon

his friend:

But fearing anew, lest after our departure, the men
of Amma might stir up against me the peOple of the isle,
I determined to yield to the earnest solicitations of
Borabolla, and leave Jarl behind, for a remembrance of
Taji; if necessary to vindicate his name. Apprised
hereof, my follower was loth to acquiesce. His guilt-
less spirit feared not the strangers: less selfish cone
siderations prevailed. He was willing to remain on the
island for a time, but not without me. Yet, setting
ferth my reasons; and assuring him that our tour would
not be long in completing, when we would not fail to
return, previous to sailing for Odo, he at last, but
reluctantly, assented.97

Samoa, however, calls quite to the whole business at this point.
He may have talked like a quester, but when he sees himself en-
dangered, the appearances dissolve:

At Mondoldo, we also parted with Samoa. Whether it
was, that he feared the avengers, whom he may have thought
would follow on my track; or whether the islanders of
Mardi answered not in attractiveness to the picture his
fancy had painted; or whether the restraint put upon him
by'the domineering presence of King Media, was too irk-
some withal; or whether, indeed, he relished not those
disquisitions with which Babbalanja regaled us: however
it may have been, certain it was, that Samoa was impatient
of the voyage. He besought permission to return to Ddo,
there to await my return; and a canoe of Mondoldo being
about to proceed in that direction, permission was granted;

125a

and departing for the other side of the island, from.
thence he embarked...
‘Yoomy was at a loss to account for the departure of

Samoa- who, while ashore, had expressed much desire to

roam.68
After the departure, both Jarl and Samoa are killed by the avengent
So neither the physical being concerned almost entirely with self
nor the virtuous man who submits holds out the prOper courses of
action. The former had no means for foreseeing the consequences
of action in which he has become ensnared, and the latter has no
plan with which to meet the consequences he does foresee.

While both represent cultures which have attained different
levels of consciousness, both men.are basically the same. They
are general humanity, conscious of no urge for worlds other than
the globe they inhabit, meeting the demands of their civilizations
as the demands arise. .But both are essentially mindless and both
are inaperative in the world of the quester. As a goal for human
behavior they fall short in.a world where there are more completely
conscious men. One of Melville's prescriptions emerges: the Jarls
and Samoas are necessary, indeed indispensable, but to preserve
their world and their life, they must either attain the conscious-
uses which will allow them to assign.the goals of action to the
quester, or they must refuse to follow the consciousness which
leads to a plunge out of and beyond the world. Or they can them-
selves adapt action to consciousness, as Media will. In any case,
the Jarls must join mind to virtue, the Samoas must join mind to
physicalityb-or be murdered.99 And once the physicality of Samoa

and his Annatoo is explored, book I of Mardi is ended, and the

1.26..
"factual" introduction sets the stage for an understanding of the
symbolic portrait of'Yillah.

The story of Samoa does not merely reiterate a characteriza-
tion of the Jarl-figure. Samoa's and Annatoo's story is a syme
bolically burlesqued parallel of the story of Taji and Yillah
placed on.physical and mundane level which hovers between and
never reaches either hilarity or pathos.

Just as Taji is responsible for the death of three men
(Aleema, Samoa, and Jarl), Samoa is also responsible for the
death of three men (the two Cholos and the savage). Taji has his
moments with his lady before she is snatched away to death. So
too does Samoa, and in both cases the lady's corpse remains some-
where in the depths of the sea. In.his story, when he saves the
Parki from the Cholos, Samoa becomes the hunting hunted. Through-
out his story, Taji is also the hunting hunted. The two major
differences between Samoa's and Taji's story reveal the relation-
ship of those stories. (1) Samoa's murders are an action of un-
planned need, anchored in no metaphysic. His action preserves his
own.physical existence from deceit and death: in his own incomplete
way, he saves his own incomplete world. (2) Samoa's mundane life
vdth Annatoo is anything but the ethereal idyll that is Taji's
life with Yillah.

Samoa's Annatoo is a parallel, a caricatured Opposite of
'Yillah. She is dark, aggressive, loud, and bawdy. ‘Yillah is fair,
shrinking, soft-spoken, and chaste. Annatoo was carried off from

a western isle when still a girl, and her kidnapper was soon more

127.

than willing to be rid of her: "The woman, Annatoo, was a native
of’a far-off, anonymous island to the westward: whence, when

quite young, she had been carried off'by the commander of a ship,
touching there on a passage from Macao to Valparaiso. At
Valparaiso her protector put her ashore; most probably, as I after-

100 If she was taken

ward had reason to think, for a nuisance."
by the sea-captain for any Special purpose, we can guess that the
purpose was a most earthy one. Yillah, on the other hand, was
carried.£g a western isle when she was a child, and her captors
were more than anxious to keep her, and for most unearthly pur-
poses at that. Iillah leads Taji a chartless and infinite wander-
ing, leaving him devoid of a sense of time or a sense of his own
or Yillah's true humanness until it is too late. Annatoo leads
Samoa into a chartless and finite wandering, stealing the compass,
destroying the history in the log books, and destroying the clock
aboard the Parki. Annatoo makes constant raids on other peOple's
possessions, laying up great stores of earthly goods. Yillah, the
one time the reader sees her in an attempted act of possession,
desires something not of earth but of heaven:
She betrayed much surprise at my Viking's appearance.
But most of all was she struck by a characteristic device
upon the arm of the wonderfUI mariner—~our Saviour on the
cross, in blue; with the crown of thorns, and three drOps
of blood in vermilion, falling one by one from.each hand
and foot...
Eventually, through the Upoluan, she made overtures
to the Skyeman, concerning the possession of his picture
in her own proper right. In her very simplicity, little

heeding, that like a landscape in fresco, it could not
be removed.101

Annatoo, however, is attracted to Jarl by his body, and is not so

128..
much concerned with a thoughtful view of his arm as with a sug-
gestive pinch of his buttocks. Annatoo is what is left after the
bloom is gone; Yillah is still the blooming rosebud. Annatoo is
characterized by flesh and earth, Yillah by flowers and heaven.
Samoa became vitally enamored of Annatoo, and "By chance it came
to pass that when.Annatoo‘s first virgin bloom had departed,
leaving nothing but a lusty frame and a lustier soul, Samoa, the
Navigator, had fallen desperately in love with her."102 Yet when
Annatoo is carried off by the ocean, Samoa shrieks once and there-
after displays no great woe. In fact he seems to live in huge
contentment whenever he is seen ianardi. He quests no quest for
a corpse. Taji also falls desperately in love. But after his
Yillah is carried away over the waters, he grieves like a madman.
When she is carried away by the subterranean river which flows out
to sea, Taji can find no contentment in Mardi, and he leaves the
world to pursue her corpse over an endless sea. The narrator gives
very little of Annatoo's personal history, but the revelations of
action leave no doubt as to what she is. The close and constant
inverse parallels between Annatoo and Yillah show that Annatoo is
the earthly female, the physical being. Significantly, she is-
or was-the goal of the "quest" made by the representative of
earthly, male physicality, Samoa. She offers happiness for a time,
but it is happiness vitiated by the uxorious, petty circumstances
of’a very mundane married life which becomes a subject for satire
rather than tragedy. ‘Whereas Annatoo and Samoa have too much time

together for the attainment of a very limited and earthly goal,

129..
Taji and Yillah have not enough time together for the attainment
of heavenly ideal. Annatoo is a comic representative of time's
breakdown of the earthly ideal based upon seamal attraction, and

represents the limitations of physicality.103

Purposeless Annatoo
is magnified into another picture of purposeful lust and pride in
the creation of Hautia, that other dark lady who, in a much more
serious sense, is a counterpart of Yillah. Perhaps one of the
most successful integratiom of the wthic and the mundane in
Mardi's methods is the enbodiment of the story of man's primal
pursuit of ideal in the very basic image of the male's pursuit of
the female. But as we shall see, the images of sex and lust create
meanings which carry far beyond an examination of the libido.

Clear as Annatoo is, the narrator, tongue in cheek, would
make a watery of her as the satirized (and satyrized) eternal
female:

Verily, her ways were as the ways of the inscrutable
penguins in building their inscrutable nests, which
baffle all science, and make a fool of a sage. 10h

Marvelous Annatoo: who shall expound thee?

Again the opposite is true of Yillah. The narrator gives a fairly
detailed history of Yillah, both "factually" and allegorically.
Without ever saying she is inscrutable, he does, by divorcing her
from revelstory action, make her the major mstery of the book.

The "factual" introduction, then, foreshadows the fate of Taji and
presents a mock-heroic miniature of the Taji story as well.105

Annatoo's Samoa himself has a clearly delineated value. Like
Annatoo, his value is that of physical action and physical existeme.

He is mee's Mow—Mow reincarnate.

‘ 130-.

Samoa's limitation.to physicality encompasses a lack of
sensitivity, as Opposed to the quester, whose nerves seem to be
all on the surface of his skin. Samoa Operating on an arm or on
a brain is the same man. ‘When Annatoo swings the ax, the pain of
the arm.amputation is deadened by "the very clumsiness of the
operation," the consciousness deadened by the sheer brute weight
of the blow. A la' Typee's first view of the Marquesans, the brain
Operation depicts Samoa stuffing coconut shell into a man's head,
with no apparent sense of discrimination between the two, no ap-
parent realization of what the human head signifies. Of course,
the arm Operation is successful. But after the brain Operation,
the patient dies.

The missing member of the body, the incomplete tattoo, the
partial ability to do a thing are common.Melvilleian symbols which
indicate the man who can not be the hero, the man who through his
actions can not and will not embrace body, mind and heart. The
incompleteness indicates an ineffective behavior pattern which
leads to harmeeMoweMow and his one eye, Tommo and his bad leg,
Samoa and his one arm.and incomplete tattoo, Ahab and his missing
leg, Billy Budd and his stutter. Of course, not all the major
characters are so marked, but when they 552 so marked, they become
unified in one of the few symbols which does hold constant for all
ofNMelville's works. 'With complete equanimity, for instance, the
incomplete Samoa can tell a tale of a remarkable surgeon who succeed-
ed in stuffing a man's head with pig's brains. This feat is seen

by Samoa withmvlefiof murder or perversion.

131.
The limitation to half a man, to a dead man in terms of cone
sciousness, is symbolized in a passage which describes Samoa's

superstitions and which relates Samoa to incompleteness and dead-

ness 3

But shall the sequel be told? How that, super-
stitiously averse to burying in the sea the dead limb
of a body yet living; since in that case Samoa held,
that he must very soon drown.and fellow it; and how,
that equally dreading to keep the thing near him, he at
last hung it aloft from the tOpmast-stay; where yet it
was suspended, bandaged over and over in cerements. The
hand that must have locked many others in friendly
clasp, or smote a foe, was no food, thought Samoa, for
fowls of the air nor fishes of the sea.

Now, which was Samoa? The dead arm swinging high as
Haman? or the living trunk below? Was the arm severed
from the body, or the body from the arm? The residual
part of Samoa was alive, and therefore we say it was he.
But which of the writhing sections of a ten times
severed worm, is the worm.pr0per?

For myself, I ever regarded Samoa as but a large
fragment of a man, not a man complete...lo

Describing Samoa, Melville uses the tattoo for the same symbolic

purpose it served in Type :

...In his dzyle of tattooing, for instance, which seemed
rather incomplete; his marks embracing but a vertical
half of his person, from.crown to sole; the other side
being free from the slightest stain. Thus clapped to-
gether, as it were, he looked like a union of the un—
matched moieties of two distinct beings; and your fancy
was lost in conjecturing where roamed the absent ones.
When he turned round upon you suddenly, you thought you
saw'someone else, not him whom.you had been regarding
befOre.107

The unmatched moieties display Samoa's own being. 'Within the shell
of wheer physicality, selfishness, and barbarism, is the soul of a
man who, in.all other respects, is like Jarl. He is superstitious,
he meets the demands of battle most admirably, he is a very simple

man and, when understood, a constant one. He is different from

132.-
Jarl in culture, and the narrator makes a point of emphasizing
their names and origins.108 But the two are complements of each
other, the joining of two hemispheres into one world. Reflecting
Mardi's theme of unity in.diversity, Jarl's western, civilized
world produces the sensitive and virtuous aspects of humanity
complementing Samoa's south Pacific world which produces physical
aspects of humanity. For all his appearance and values, Samoa
also has the soul of a man:

But there was one feature in Samoa beyond the reach
of the innovations of art: -his eye; which in civilized
man or savage, ever shines in the head, just as it shone
at birth. Truly, our eyes are miraculous things. But
alas, that in so many instances, these divine organs
should be mere lenses inserted into the socket, as
glasses in spectacle rims.

But my Islander had a soul in his eye; looking out
upon.you there, like somebody in him. What an eye, to
be sure! At times brilliantly changeful as Opal; in
anger, glowing like steel at white heat.lo

To be sure, the narrator never lets the reader forget that it is
the soul of a savage, reflecting a savage culture, but it is none-
theless a human soul.110 And as Melville often demonstrates, he
is too mob of a cultural relativist to connect good or bad,
superiority or inferiority as absolute labels, with savage or
civilized man. They are simply different. In certain instances,
the actions dictated by such behavior patterns are Operative or
inoperaative, murderous or redemptive, but they are always given
in context. Melville joins Jarl and Samoa almost as we might join
two typifications of large segments of our own society, joining,
fer instance, the NoneMilitant Liberal who is loyal to Party, and

the Soldier.111 As mindless humanity, Jarl and Samoa make a whole,

133.,

Jarl being almost all heart, Samoa being almost all body. Neither
wish to guest, both wish to return to their own cultures, both

are superstitious, both matter-of-the-moment actors, both the men
who would sleep when the monomaniac quester would take them.in
pursuit of his own vision. They both reappear as Starbuck and
Queequeg. When these two types die because of the quester, the
indispensable and healthy, common, working-humanity part of the
world dies. And it is with this part of humanity that Melville
the thinker-artist as well as Melville the thinkerbsailor has his
warmest sympathy. 'When.the critic would speak of Melville's
sympathy for the quester who leads mankind to death, he must re-
Immber'that he speaks of the same Melville who portrays the results
of that quester's actions, the results of the allurements of all
the Yillahs in their various masks, fish or female, the Melville
who also wrote Whitejacket and Redburn.

Mardi‘s lure, Yillah, undergoes a series of transformations
just as does her pursuer, Taji. But unlike Taji, Yillah is a dual
creature who does change in essence.

The first view at once dissociates her from the islanders and
from.any idea that as an ideal she may represent the primitivistic
paradise foreseen by Tommo befOre he became acquainted with the full
meaning of Types valley. Yillah is at once out of place and alien
in this environment. Her language is not that of the islanders,
and it rings a note of familiarity only in the ears of Taji. Neither
islander nor westerner in speech, she is even more out of this world

than Taji, being unable to communicate either in English or in the

131..
lingua franca of the cosmOpolitan sailor.

Before the introduction of Yillah, the reader is introduced
to the most important large sections of humanitya-the man of mind
and will, the man of body, and the man of heart. And Yillah ut-
ters sounds that are vaguely familiar only to the first, and are
totally inexplicable to the other two. Also, Yillah represents
Taji's greatest joy; yet she is always quiet and sad. Babbalanja,
in his Serenian dream.of heaven is to report that heavenly joy is
quiet and sad, that the essence of otherworldly joy is sadness and
silence. It is inescapable that the characteristics which intro-
duce'Yillah are sadness, quietness and a separateness from humani-
ty. She is hidden in a tent. She is physically isolated from the
outside world of humanity.

BefOre me crouched a beautiful girl. Her hands were
drooping. And like a saint from.a shrine [note the
identifying imagerz7'she looked out sadly from her long,
fair hair. A low wail issued from her lips, and she
trembled like a sound. There were tears on.her cheeks,
and a rose-colored pearl on her bosom.

Did I dream?-A snow-white skin: blue, firmament
eyes: Golconda locks. For an instant Spell-bound I
stood; while, with a slow, apprehensivezmovement, and
still gazing fixedly, the captive gathered more closely
about her a gauze-like robe. Taking one step within,
and partially drapping the curtain of the tent, I so
stood as to have both sight and speech of Samoa, who
tarried without; while the maiden, crouching in the
farther corner of the retreat, was wholly screened from
all eyes but mine.

Crossing my hands befbre me, I now stood without
speaking. For the soul of me, I could not link this
mysterious creature with the tawny strangers. She seemed
of another race. 30 powerful was this impression, that
unconsciously, I addressed her in my own tongue. She
started, and bending over, listened intently, as if to
the first faint echo of something dimly remembered.
Again I sopke, when throwing back her hair, the maiden
looked up with a piercing, bewildered gaze. But her

135-.

eyes soon fell, and bending over once more, she resumed
her former attitude. At length she slowly chanted to
herself several musical words, unlike those of the
Islanders; but though I knew not what they meant, they
-vaguely seemed familiar.

The tantalizing Speech familiarity serves two purposes.
First, it establishes an immediate relation between the quester
and the other-worlder, and secondly, it prepares for the reader's
discovery of the second half of Yillah‘s dual being: her human
origin. In direct contrast to Jarl, Yillah remembers life in
another world, although she recalls a human origin:

She declared herself more than mortal, a maiden
from Oroolia, the Island of Delights, somewhere in the
paradisiacal archipelago of thefblynesians. To this
isle, while yet an infant, by some mystical power, she
had been spirited from.Amma, the place of her nativity.
Her name was Yillah. And hardly had the waters of
Oroolia washed white her Olive skin, and tinged her hair
with gold, when one day strolling in the woodlands, she
was snared in the tendrils of a vine. Drawing her into
its bowers, it gently transformed her into one of its
blossoms, leaving her conscious soul folded up in the
tranSparent petals.

Here hung Yillah in a trance, the world without all
tinged with the rosy hue of her prison. -At length when
her spirit was about to burst forth in the opening flower,
the blossom.was snapped from its stem; and borne by a
soft wind to the sea; where it fell into the Opening
valve of a shell; which in good time was cast upon the
Island of Anna.

In.a dream, these events were revealed to Aleema the
priest; who by a spell unlocking its pearly casket, took
forth the bud, which now showed signs of Opening in the
reviving air, and bore faint shadowy revealings, as of the
dawn behind crimson clouds. Suddenly eXpanding, the
blossom exhaled away in perfumes; floating a rosy mist in
the air. Condensing at last, there emerged from this mist
the same radiant young Yillah as before; her locks all
moist, and a.rose colored pearl on her bosom. Enshrined
as a goddess, the wonderful child now tarried in the
sacred temple of Apo, buried in.a dell; never beheld of
mortal eyes save Aleema's.

This passage holds the essential definition of Yillah. It is

1.3.6.:

this definition which is Taji's view of Yillah. Although basi-
cally of mortal origin, she is transformed by heaven and given
back to humanity in immortal form. There is no doubt that Oroolia
is heaven. The supreme God is Oro, and the Island of Delights is
an accurate apposative for the heaven Of the world in which the
action exists. Yillah's whiteness is one clue to the mark Of the
otherbworld upon her. As Jarl, Samoa, and Annatoo show, dark
complexion is here associated with humanity and earth. As Yillah
and Taji show, white complexion is associated with other-worldli-
ness. Taji, for instance, men he is "reborn" as the demi-god
from the sun is accepted as a visitor from another world because
he is white. Yillah, in her human infancy on Anne, was dark, the
waters of heaven washing her white. The baptism is symbolic Of a
removal of humanity, or, more accurately, mortality.

Yillah is ever after marked by heaven, not only by her come
plexion, but by her rose pearl. The hue of the heavenly flower
which ensnared the essence of Yillah was rose; the shell which
conducted this spirit from the shores of heaven was a "pearly
casket." The last token of Yillah on earth is the rose pearl,
clutched in Hautia's hand. What then, is this essence revealed to
Taji, an.essence described as human in origin, transformed and
endowed with immortality by heaven? The narrator names this es-
sence when he describes what it is that is separated from.eorporeal
being and is ensnared in the flower: "Drawing it into its bowers,
it gggtly transformed her into one 2: its blossoms, leaving her

conscious soul folded up in the transparent petals." It is this

:137.
spirit, this essence of conscious soul that is to be released
from.the flower: "At length when her Spirit was about to burst
forth in the Opening flower, the blossom was snapped from the
stem." Man's conscious soul, the immortal and divine faculty in
his animal being, is to be deposited on earth pure and unvitiated
in the substantial form Of Yillah. If only for the purpose Of
narrative, let alone Melville's view of heavenly tokens on earth,
this corporeality would have to exist. And the rose pearl is the
symbol of Yillah's disembodied spiritual state in heaven, the es-
sential existence within the rose-flower womb before earthly re-
birth in substantial form.m It is inevitable that Taji, all
consciousness, should accept as his visionary goal the heavenly
purity of conscious soul.115

The story of conscious soul is the story that Taji knows-~it
is on the basis of this story's implications that Yillah's great
attraction is transferred into the concrete image of the beautiful
maiden. Conscious soul in pure state is the ideality of a tradi-
tional absolute Of the western world: it is the unvitiated intel-
lect, fresh from the hand of God, blessed with a transcendent,
Golden-Age understanding and sight which makes possible the Beatific
Vision and communication with God and his Angels. It is the one
divine faculty, which even in its vitiated earthly form lifts man
above earth and beast in the great chain of being and makes it pos-
sible for man to be an inhabitant in heaven. The pure state of soul
is the purity and innocence of man before the Fall, the purity Of

the days when Astraea walked the earth. She is at once other-worldbg

138:
pure, ideal, absolute. And Taji tries to make Yillah believe
that he too is a heavenly being with a right to keep her; that
she too is an earthly being who belongs on earth with him. To
Taji, the specific definition of Yillah is that combination of
medieval innocence and Renaissance reason which is the pure con-
scious soul in the prelapsarian state. Attainment of Yillah is
attainment Of happiness, a happiness specifically defined by at—
tainment of heaven, by the flying with the bird through the vault-
ed archways of the eastern sky. Happiness, when used as part Of
the definition of Yillah, must be specifically anchored in the
view of Yillah held by any particular quester. For Taji, for in-
stance, the word happiness does not include the fleeting sexual
happiness which characterized the Samoa-Annatoo burlesque. Taji,
Ahab and Pierre are basically the same man in quest.

Yet Yillah is more than conscious 333;, fer she has different
meanings for different men. In her capacity as pure soul, she is
the sum Of all man's heavenly attainments, the sum of all the Pure
Ideal which the pure soul of man encompasses. As an embodiment of
Pure Ideal, she is sought by all the voyagers, all Of whom.seek
different thingsllé-aYillah is all things to all men.117 Yoomy
seeks the Truth of transcendent beauty as a proof Of heaven.
Throughout £552; he sings fragments of one composite song which
identifies Yillah as the lone bright fish of the sea, the far, de-
parted bright maid, the female body soft as morning meadows. In
the quest for truth,119 for'Ioomy the ideal is not pure conscious

soul, but pure transcendent beauty. It is something between the

139$

Keatsian truth-is-beauty and the Shelleyan beauty of ideal social
love.120 And it is this which is the lost'Astraea, the bright
Yillah Of Yoomy's search. Mohi is constantly fearful of death
and cringes from.the premonitory aches and twinges Of his Old age.
As the historian who records chronology rather than meaning, he
is constantly aware of the statistics of death. He is charac-
tsrized by Officialness, greyness, and age. The few times that
Mohi is permitted personal words about his own fears and desires,
he voices fear of death and desire for long life. It is not unr
til the Serenian conversion and acceptance of human limitation
that he can accept Babbalanja's prescription: "Mohi! Age leads
thee by the hand. Live out thy life and die, calmpbrowedleI

And it is only after this acceptance that Mohi tries to restrain
Taji from further search for Yillah. For MOhi, who of all the
voyagers can least be called a searcher, if Yillah is anything,
she is long life.122 Media, until he finds his true goal in
Serenia, tries to find his own kind of happiness during the quest.
It is the happiness Of the wealthy and untroubled aristocrat, and
he visits his cousinpkings and demigods solely fer the wealthy,
healthy good times they offer. As a follower of the median way,
he hugs his kingship, which is an authoritative guarantor of his
own, selfish wealth and health. After his Serenian conversion, he.
returns to Odo to universalize in the just society the wealth and
health which the perversions Of his dictatorial aristocracy had
wrung from his slaves to give to him. The goal, the ideal remains

the same: its place and its uses change vastly. If'Yillah is to

11.0..
be defined for Media-who had, by the way, diaplayed his own un-
solicited interest in finding Yillah-—she is wealth and health.
Babbalanja seeks one glimpse of immortality as proof of heaven,
cosmic unity, cosmic design. Only immortality could invest with
meaning and reason the earthly woes of beings crammed with life,
seemingly only to suffer and perish. This is the questing
Babbalanja, who before his Serenian conversion sees that man's
last hope of immortality is lost and gone.123 For him, Yillah is
the last lost hOpe of heaven, the last lost hOpe Of reason or pur-
pose, the last lost hOpe for the glimpse of the ultimate. Hautia,
as the Duessa, knows what is sought, and falsely says that only
she can offer the ideal. In one speech, in fact, she uses some
capital-letter terms which are names for Yillah, and to make the
definition stronger, these terms are associated with one of Yillah's
most prominent trademarks, the pearl:

...Hautia rose; hands flull Of pearls.
"L01 Taji; all these may be had for the diving; and
Beauty, Health, Wealth, Long Life, and the Last Lost HOpe
of man. But through me alone, may these be had. Dive
thou, and bring up one pearl if thou canst."12h
The relativity of Yillah's definition (and the fact that those
definitions add up to a unitylzs) is a structural parallel to the
theme that all truth is relative and that all relative bits Of truth,
that is all the manifestations of existence, all phenomena, are
united parts of a single entity, Time. Especially does this have
relevance when we will consider that heaven, God, and Time are one,

and that Yillah is a representative Of heaven. This unification of

structure and symbol is best exemplified in.one episode on that

11.1.
rock Of time, the "Isle of Fossils," wherein Babbalanja settles-
an argument by explaining that a foOtprint on the rock indicates
both three toes and one foot. He tells the disputants, "Unite
and both are right; divide, and both are wrong. Every unit is
made up of parts, as well as every plurality."126 Yillah's
duality and the suggestion that Hautia and Yillah are different
faces of one and the same thing also parallels the structural
fragmentation of’gérgi with this same theme of Melville's cosmic
ontology.127

When'we consider the specific meanings of Yillah, the re-
lationship of all the book's characters becomes clear and predicta-
ble. In.this central definition the artistic expectancies are
focused, and the denouement grows out of it. It is inevitable that
Taji pursued'Yillah before he ever knew her, and that his initial
pursuit be tinged with guilt. It fits concisely that Taji should
be the pursuer and that he should fail in his quest, ridden as he
is by’a monomania of will which would sin and sin again in order to
regain.a spotless and pure state of being. It is this paradox
which is one of the underlying ironies creating the dualities in
the Melvillean.world onMardi. It is inevitable that it should be
Jarl's tattoo and not his body which attracts Yillah. It is ins
evitable that Jarl should feel foreboding and uneasiness at Yillah's
presence. In one brief and important chapter, the relationship be-
tween "Yillah, Jarl, and Samoa“ is sketched. At first the pure con,
scious spirit shrinks from.sheer physicality, but after earthly

experience comes to accept its existence as one of the necessities

1.42.

of the life of this world. But she remains aloof, and her re-
lationship with Samoa again identifies her as the divinity in
human faculties.

As Beauty from the Beast, so at first shrank the
damsel from my one—armed companion. But seeing my con-
fidence in the savage, a reaction soon followed. And
in accordance with that curious law, by which, under
certain conditions, the ugliest mortals become only
amiably hideous, Yillah at length came to look upon
Samoa as a sort of harmless and good natured goblin.
Whence came he, she cared not; or what was his histogg;
or in what manner his fortunes were united to mine.1

At best, the pure soul or ideal can attempt to persuade man away
from.the most barbaric manifestations of physicality and savagery:

Now, as every where women are the tamers Of menerag-
cries of men; so Tillah in good time tamed down Samoa to
the relinquishment of that horrible thing in his ear, and
persuaded him to substitute a vacancy for the bauble in
his nose. On his part, however, all this was conditional.
He stipulated for the privilege of restoring both trinkets
upon suitable occasions.

Despite his superstitious reverence for'Yillah as a being not of
this world, Samoa is dedicated to the actions Of this world and
will not relinquish his own characteristics when the need for
preservation demands his own special attributes. "On suitable oc—
casions" underscores the themes of incompleteness and the relativity
of man's necessities. For instance, when the Chamois group comes
ashore at Mardi, Yillah's qualities can not cope with the earthly
needs demanded by a physical meeting with earthmen in an alien
land. 'Yillah remains cowering in the tent on the Chamois. It is
Samoa who springs ashore, determining beforehand whether or not it
is safe to land. In brief, Melville makes it almost immediately

apparent that pure being, the Ideal in that other-world outside of

143.

Plato's cave, is an incompletion on earth and is inOperative in
certain situations. The very fact Of the inclusion of the
chapter "Yillah, Jarl, and Samoa" is a clue to how the reader
should interpret Yillah.

Samoa may or may not recognize Yillah as pure conscious soul,
a recognition reserved for Taji and the reader. But he is aware
that she is of other-worldly purity, that she is the embodiment
of that pure state of being. He acts toward her as he acts toward
no one else in the book, not even toward Taji, for Samoa's primi-
tive, mindless and superstitious awe of other—worldiness is streng~
er than his submission to a demi-god with mom he can deal on a
physical level:

But if thus gayly the damsel sported with Samoa;
how different his emotions toward her? .The fate to which
she had been.destined, and every nameless thing about her,
appealed to all his native superstitions, which ascribed
to beings of her complexion a more than terrestrial
origin. When permitted to approach her, he looked timid
and awkwardly strange; suggesting the likeness of some
clumsy satyr, drawing in his horns, slowly wagging his
tail; crouching abashed before some radiant spirit.

And this reverence of his was most pleasing to me.
Bravo! thought I; be a pagan forever. No more than
myself; for after a different fashion,'Yillah was an
idol to both.130

Not only Samoa, but all mortal men recognize the emblem.of other
worldliness, and tremble superstitiously before something which
ironically is out of place and inoperative in the very world they
inhabit. The reaction Of the Islanders is another revelation of
the primitive and unconscious mind, much as the taboo was in Typee.

Until now, envelOped in her robe, and crouching like
a fawn,'Yillah had been well nigh hidden from view. But
presently she withdrew her hood.

What saw the Islanders, that they so gazed and adored

.144-

in silence: some retreating, some creeping nearer, and

the women all in a flutter? Long they gazed; and fol-

lowing Sampgis example. stretched forth their arms in

reverence.

III
Once Yillah is given a dramatic weighting, a discernible val-

us. she disappears. The rest of her story, the consequences Of
her pursuit. capture. and disappearance. centers not upon her but
upon all the other characters of the book. She is continually re-
vealed as revelation is made about.Aleema. Aleemafls sons, Hautia,
Taji, and the other voyagers. As with the other lures. Isabel and
the whale. the story is not here. She continues to exist only as a
motive. a cause for activation. and it is in the consequences of
the quester's actions and the actions of the characters with whom
he has contact that the story is built. Over the craft is mis-
taken for one of the creatures of the sky, the snowawhite birds of
the otherdworld. It is confused with heaven, but closer inspec-
tion reveals growing discrepancies between the pure all-colorless~
nose of heaven and the stains of earthly religion:

It looked like one of many birds; for half inter-
cepting our view, fell showers Of plumage: a flight of
nilkdwhite noddies flying downward to the sea.

But soon the birds are seen no more. Yet there
remains the speck; plainly a sail; but too small for a
ship...

As the sail drew nigh. its failing to glisten white
led us to doubt whether it was indeed a'wbaleeboat.
Presently, it showed yellow; and Samoa declared, that it
must be the sail of some island craft.1

Ihen the boat comes within description distance, it is presented
in images identical with those of Typee especially the fruit laden

altars of the aboriginal, universal. superstitious religion of the

145‘.-
primitive everyman:

The yard, spreading a yellow sail, was a crooked
bough, supported obliquely in.the crotch of a mast, to
which the green bark was still clinging. Here and there
were little tufts of moss. The high, beaked prow of
that canoe in which the mast was placed, resembled a
rude altar; and all round it was suspended a great
variety of fruits, including scores of cocoanuts, un-
husked. This prow was railed off, forming a sort of
chancel within.133

The marks of land and greenness which identify the craft imme-
diately differentiate it from.the qualities of the sea-rover who
is Mardi's quester. The sail is yellow rather than pure white;
‘we are to see soon that Aleema represents religion, and, as
Maramma is to show, the immediate appearance (whiteness, heavenli—
ness) of religion is not the true picture of its earthly reality
once the viewer gets close to it.

Aleema, the priest, is characterized by two recurring sets of
images: oldness and timelessness on the one hand, and on the other
the stern qualities of the Aaron, the devout follower of the harsh

and vengeful Jehovah.

...Meantime, old Aaron, fastening the two silks
crosswise over his shoulders, like a brace of Highland
plaids, crosslegged sat, and eyed us.

It was a curious sight. The old priest, like a
scroll of old parchment, covered all over with heiro-
glyphical devices, harder to interpret, I'll warrant,
than any old Sanskrit manuscript. And upon his broad
brow, deep-graven in wrinkles, were characters still more
mysterious, which no Champollion.nor gipsy could have
deciphered. He looked old as the elderly hills; eyes
sunken, though bright; and head white as the summit of
Mont Blanc...

...that old sire, Old Aaron; who, no doubt, reposed
upon his sons, as an old general upon the trophies of
his youth.l3h

The last fragment of the passage introduces one of the characteris-

tics oijardi's religion. It is supported.by the physical savage

11.6..

in everyman; as in Maramma, religion is supported by the sword.
It is significant that it is Samoa who first identifies the boat,
that Samoa wishes to meet it, that Samoa as physical savage feels
an immediate kinship and uncowed familiarity. "Seeing that flight
was useless, the Islanders again stepped their canoe, and once
more we cautiously drew nearer; myself crying out to them not to
be fearful; and Samoa, with the odd humor of his race, averring
1

that he had known every soul of them from.his infancy." 35

Whereas Aleema is presented in terms of past vitality and
present shrunken stature masked by the sternness and the mystery
of his hocus-pocus heiroglyphics, his fourteen sons who are the
“sword" of religion, are presented in images of foOd, animality,
Physicality, and martial might:

_ The rest were a youthful and comely set; their
complexion that of Gold Sherry, and all tattooed after
this pattern: two broad cross—stripes on the chest and
back, reaching down to the waist like a foot-soldier's
harness. Their faces were full of expression; and
their mouths were full of fine teeth so that the parting
of their lips were as the Opening of pearl oysters.
Marked, here and there, after the style of Tahiti, with
little round figures in blue, dotted in the middle with
a spot of vermilion, their brawny brown thighs looked
not unlike the gallant hang of Westphalia, spotted with
the red dust of Cayenne.13

And it is upon these "foot-soldiers," these "gallant hams of
Westphalia" that the priest depends for the force which backs up
his pronouncements. The gallant hams are further defined in terms
of human history. They are the new generations moulded by religion
to a dedication to the purposes of religion, fathered, despite a
variety of mothers or families, into one uniform, conforming family

of identical beings who literally do support religion.as represented

1107.0
by Aleema:
But what a marvelous resemblance in the features
of all. Were they born at one birth? This resemblance
was heightened by their uniform marks. But it was sub—
sequently ascertained, that they were the children of
one sire; and that sire, old Aaron; who, no doubt, re-
posed upon his sons as an old general upon the trophies
of his youth.
They were the children of as many mothers; and he
was training them up for the priesthood.137
What is the quality of this religion which was once vital but
which now depends upon the force of physical miglt? The answer to
this question exposes Melville's view of the relationship of
religion to man's conscious soul. Aleema preserves Yillah only to
sacrifice her. The preservation for sacrifice is an act which
preserves not the soul but the status of the priest. The priest
does not wish all men to share what Yillah symbolizes. He wishes
to appear the sole, unchallenged custodian. During Yillah's
occlusion in the valley of Ardair, a youth seeks out Yillah and
finally sees her. Aleema either kills him or has him killed,
138
probably by the guardians of the valley who would be his sons.
Moreover, religion would deter the human origin of man' 3 con-
scious soul by surrounding it with other world fantasy. Yillah,
in relation to Aleena, must be defined as conscious soul. Melville
could have inserted later in the book, the allegorical story that
Taji knows; as he does the real history of Yillah. But he Specifi-
cally defines her as conscious soul before revealing her history in
Ardair. The other, relative definitions of Yillah are not delineat-

ed until long after the Aleema episodes. Aleema's sons' pursuit of

Taji as the man who would attain pure soul and heaven by his own

11.8".
will.(thus negating the jealously guarded role of religion) is a
parallel to the murder of the transcendental boy by the priests
of Maramma. The implication emerges that the longest lasting and
strongest deterrent to man's search for God is religion itself.
By surrounding man's conscious soul with otherbworld fantasy, re-
ligion dehumanizes the very essence which could allow man whatever
he can reach of the divine status to which he aspires.139 Taji is
not taken in by the superstitions of religion4Yillah is a differ-
ent idol to him than.she is to Samoa. Taji tries to relate him~
self, as a hgmgg, to his divine heritage, both by forever seeking
that heritage, by trying to capture it by escalade, and by con-
vincing himself and Yillah that that heritage itself is originally
a human thing. In one speech, Taji lays bare the vision behind the
quest story, and he embraces the beginning and end of that story
with images that make the speech the most significant concentrate
of his entire quest:

Now re—entering the tent, she again inquired where
tarried Aleema.

"Think not of him, sweet Yillah," I cried. "Look on
me. Am.I not white like yourself? Behold, though since
quitting Oroolia the sun has died my cheek, am.I not even
as you? Am.I brown like the dusky Aleema? They snatched
you away from your isle in the sea, too early for you to
remember me there. But you have not been forgotten by
me, sweetest Yillah. Hal ha! shook we not the palmptrees
together, and chased we not the rolling nuts down the
glen? Did we not dive into the grotto on the sea-shore,
and come up together in the cool cavern on the hill? In
120’ home id.0roolia, dear Yillah, I have a lock of your
hair, ere yet it was golden: a little dark tress like a
ring. How your cheeks were then.changing from olive to
white. And when shall I forget the hour, that I came
upon you sleeping among the flowers, with roses and lilies

for cheeks. Still forgetful? Know you not my voice?
Those little spirits in.your eyes have seen me before.
They mimic me now as they sport in.their lakes. All the

14.9 .9.
past a dim blank? Think of the time when we ran up and
down in our arbor, where the green vines grew over the
great ribs of the stranded whale. Oh Yillah, little
Yillah, has it all come to this? Am,I ever forgotten?
Yet over the wide watery world have I sought these: from
isle to isle, from.eea to sea. And now we part not.
Aleema is gone. My prow shall keep kissing the waves,
till it kisses the beach at Oroolia. Yillah, look up.

The first thing that is apparent is that on the narrative
level Taji is again employing deceit in order to win'Yillah. But
even though on the surface level of plot Taji's speech is part of
his campaign of conquest, in terms of allegory, Taji Speaks in
images which are an undeniable part of the book's general symbolism»
Again there is the emphasis on origins presented in a suggestion of
man's prelapsarian state, or at least the state of earthly bliss.
Yillah, ere she was golden, was Fayaway, or whatever name we chose
whereby to designate the primitivistic ideal of the Golden Age.141
In that happy and faraway time, Taji and Iillah travelled together,
alive and human, from the sea grotto to the cavern in the hill,
coming iglggg. At the end of the book, inhuman, in despair, and
dead, they travel from the cavern.in the hill out to the uttermost
seas. The otherworld changes the ideal from.dark to white, from
earthliness to pure being. The story of Ozonna and Rea shows that
pride of this world, Hautia, changes the ideal from white to dark.
As the corruption represented by Hautia is pictured by a false-
front of birds and flowers and pearls on earth, the ideal is pic-
tured by flowers, birds, and pearls in heaven. Taji's speech, to
this point, moves from the early view of the pure ideal to the
fbreshadowing of the destruction of that ideal at the hands of the

inversion which is Hautia. Along with suggestive hits like images

15.0..
of green vines growing over the great ribs of the stranded whale,
is the definite statement that Taji did hunt fer Yillah long be-
fore he ever knew of or met her incarnation. And the passage ends
with Taji's determination not to rest until he and Yillah can re-
enter the otherbworld tagether, until the final withdrawal and
desertion from earth is complete, until the victory of man‘s
escalade is final. The foreshadowing in the passage makes the
ironic technique apparent: Taji and Yillah do make their final
withdrawal from.earth, but the consequences of such a desire and
such an action are far different from what Taji anticipates. The
irony is clinched in the chapter's final sentence placed in a
separate paragraph immediately following the passage just quoted:
"Sunk the ghost of Aleema: Sweet Yillah was minei"

Aleema has an easier task than Taji: religion beats the quest-
er hands down. Religion merely has to dehumanize and sacrifice
aspects of the human being in order to maintain its own favored and
authoritative position. ‘When the priests's status is threatened by
men clamoring for the release of Yillah, the priest spirits her
away to destruction in the whirlpool of Tedaidee.lh2 Release of
religion's grasp on man's conscious soul is an occurrence that the
priest cannot allow, and it is by stealth and ferce that he circmm-
vents the demands-of general humanity.1A3 In.all events, it is the
innate, human essence which is truly divine albeit pliable. But
the religion'which claims to be the special custodian of that es-
sence is dusky, deceitful, implacably stern. This view of religion

does not have to be justaposed against the Maramma chapters or

151s
against Melville's general cultural democraqy and relativism.
This view is concretely symbolized in the episode wherein Yillah
is immured in the valley of Ardair. The god of Aleema, Apo
(a possible play on ape: anthropocentrism, anthrOpoidism, animali-
ty, imitation and confermity?), is a "grim profile of a human
face; whose shadow, every afternoon, crept down the verdant side of
the mountain: a silent phantom, stealing all over the bosom of the
glen."lhh

fices the maiden.mystagogically before he tries to sacrifice her

It is to this view, to this god that old Aleema sacri-

actually:

At times, when the phantom.drew near, Aleema would
take Yillah forth, and waiting its approach, lay her
down by the shadow, disposing her arms in a caress,
saying, "0h, Ape! dost accept thy bride?" And at last,
when it crept beyond the place where he stood, and
buried the whole valley in gloom; Aleema would say,
"Arise Yillah; Apo hath stretched himself to sleep in
Ardair. Go, slumber where thou wilt; fer thou wilt
slumber in his arms."145

And just as Apo buries the greenness of the valley in gloom.and
covers man's conscious soul with shadow, so Aleema buries the
quester's thoughts in gloom and makes the very waters over which
Taji sails a place of shadow and death.

Although the ritualistic aspects of religion dehumanize Yillah,
Taji, who paradoxically leads to the greatest ahumanity, tries to
humanize Yillah. Religion becomes the false path to God, a killer.
The conscious quester, on the other hand, is so acutely conscious of
his human birthright that he tries to recapture it by storm, ignor-
ing the actualities of a humanity that does not exist in Eden. In

the attempt to storm.the ramparts of an other-world which is not

152.
there, the quester is also a killer. Either way, the attempt at
an otheraworldly paradise regained is murder and suicide, but it
must be born in mind that the quester's attempt is based upon the
widest and most splendid (although false) vision of man's cosmic

.r'
status. In one way, the failure of Melville's questers is the
death of idealism as a system and an ontology in the nineteenth
century'world, and it is enormously significant that Melville's
portrayal of that death is actually grounded in empiricism.and
pragmatism.

Unlike the quester, religion's approach to God or absolute is
based upon narrow authority, selfish prestige, and a wilfill at-
tempt to dehumanize. Thus it is that whereas Aleema merely has to
fill Yillah's head with fairy tales and then.kill her, Taji must
on the one hand identify himself with heaven and the birthright of
the Golden-Age pure state of being, when earth was heaven, and on
the other’hand he has to identify that very state of being, Yillah,
with earth and humanity. Chapter L1, "The Dream Begins to Fade,"
sums up Taji's relationship with Yillah; it is a brief chapter and
important enough to be quoted almost in full:

Stripped of the strange associations, with which a
mind like Yillah's must have invested every incident of
her life, the story of her abode in Ardair seemed not
incredible.

But so etherealized had she become from.the wild
conceits she nourished that she verily believed herself
a being in the lands of dreams. Her fabulous past was
her present. '

Yet as our intimacy grew closer and closer, these
fancies seemed to be losing their hold. And often she
questioned me concerning my own reminiscences of her
shadowy isle. And cautiously I sought to produce the

impression, that whatever I had said of that clime, had
been revealed to me in dreams, her own lineaments had

153:
smiled upon me; and hence the impulse which had sent me
roving after the substance of this spiritual image.

And true it was to say so; and right it was to
swear it, upon her white arms crossed. For oh, Yillah;
‘were you not the earthly semblangg_of that sweet vision,
that haunted my earliest thoughts?155g[italics ming]

At first she had wildly believed, that the nameless
affinities between us were owing to our having in times
gone by dwelt together in the same ethereal region.

But thoughts like these were fast dying out. Yet not
'without many strange scrutinies. More intently than
ever she gazed into my eyes; rested her ear against my
heart and listened to its beatings. And love, which in
the eye of its object ever seeks to invest itself with
some rare superiority, love, sometimes induced me to
prop my failing divinity; though it was I myself who had
undermined it.

But if it was with many regrets, that in sight of
Yillah, I perceived myself thus dwarfing down to a
mortal; it was with quite contrary emotions, that I con-
templated the extinguishment in her heart of the notion
of her own spirituality. For as such thoughts were
chased away, she clung the more closely to me, as unto
one without whom.she would be desolate indeed.

And now, at intervals, she was sad, and often gazed
long and fixedly into the sea. Nor would she say why it
was that she did so; until at length she yielded; and
replied that whatever false things Aleema might have in-
stilled into her mind; of’this much she was certain:
that the whirlpool on the coast of Tedaidee prefigured
her fate; that in the waters she saw lustrous eyes, and
beckoning phantoms, and strange shapes smoothing her
couch among the mosses.

Her dreams seemed mine. Many visions I had of the
green corse of the priest, outstretching its arms in the
water, to receive pale Iillah, as she sunk in the sea.

 

Symbolically, Taji and Yillah have become inseparable. Every
revelation of one is a revelation of the other, until in this
chapter-one of the last chapters wherein we see Yillah-a final
statement is implicit. Yillah, as pure being, cannot exist without
the conscious man to depend on. Ideal must be activated, humanized.
And it is humanity, the very act of activization and humanization,
which kills her. The spirit, once on earth, needs humanity and exp

perience in which to exist at all, but once it touches humanity and

 

3151..
experience, it undergoes another transformation, which in the
final case of Yillah, will be death. Briefly, the pure ideal
cannot exist pure once it is mixed with mortality and the demands
of earthly living. As the quest will demonstrate, it is suicide
to pursue an unattainable purity which no longer is the state of
the world. As Media will demonstrate, man must activate, within
the possibilities of this earth, all the consciousness and ideal
that he can and still be a preserver rather than a destroyer,
Operative rather than withdrawn. The buildup for the great reso-
lution.made by Captain Vere takes on much greater meaning in the
light of this concept. For, gaggi.insists, it is in this world
that we must live. Whatever aspect of the other-world the book
displays is either murderous or inhuman or inoperative because men
delude themselves into believing it exists. Mortals cannot breathe
the air of heaven, and the spirit exists only as long as mortality
does. Babbalanja can accept this after he visits Serenia, but Taji
is never able to accept the limitations of time and mortality, the
limitations of the modern world's new view of man.

To this point, hard; has given innumerable hints that God,
heaven, immortality, the otherbworld-—whatever we choose to call
it-is not an area of humanity, and that the whole traditional con-
cept has to be scrapped.fbr whoever the quester, whatever the book,
the quester's pursuit of an absolute ideal dehumanizes himself, the
ideal, and those around him. At any rate, humanity just does not
exist in the other-world, and the action.offlg§§di cannot take place

there.' The trip throughout Mardi, as an exploration of this real

3155.-
world, and as a statement of the appearances and realities of
both worlds, becomes an integral necessity for the Taji story.
Religion points to the other world and is murderous. It de-
humanizes. The quester points to the other world and is murder-
ous. He is dehumanized. The pure ideal lures to the other world
and it is murdered. It is dehumanized and it dehumanizes. Even
the gallant animal hams of Westphalia become dehumanized when,
doubly ensnared by the crossed paths of religion and the quester,
they pursue the pursuer of the other world.
When the sons of Aleema are first seen, they are dark and
physical. However, as they undergo the isolation and alienation
of quest, they become white. Rigid religionists, they are the
self appointed avengers of heaven who will sacrifice all to murder
the blasphemer, who will pile sin on sin to avenge sin. Their
hatred and thirst for vengeance for a blasphemy hurled at the
custodian of the other world is a white hatred that kills and
bleaches what it touches:
...the same double-keeled craft, now sorely broken, the
fatal dais in wild disarray: the canoe, the canoe of.
Aleemal And with it came the spearmen three, who, when
the Chamois was fleeing from their bow, had poised.their
javelins. But so wan their aspect now, their faces
looked like skulls. In my delirium I rushed upon the
skeletons...the pale specters foamed out their curses
again and again: --"Oh nurdererl white curses upon thee!
Bleached be thy soul with our hate! Living, our brethren
cursed thee; and dying, dry-lipped, they-cursed thee‘
again. They died not through famishing for water, but
for revenge EEO“ thee: Thy blood, their thirst would
have slakedt 7

From.this point on, the three remaining, once dusky and husky sons

of Aleema are always referred to Is the "pale" strangers, the "wan"

specters, or as "ghosts." Whiteness, other-worldliness, and death

'4

156.
are again connected by patterns of imagery, but these patterns now
reveal the obverse side of the coin: the lure is associated with
purity, the pursuit with annihilation.

In M_a_1_‘_d_i there is the best demonstration of the association
of other-worldiness with the white man from the point of view of
the savage and all he symbolizes. Aleema, in his allegorical
dream story of Yillah's origin, pictured her as a bud torn from
the flowering plant. Aleema's sons, when reciting the factual
story of Yillah's origin employ the same image, showing that
Aleema's story was simply the association.made between the white-
ness of western man and other-worldliness:

"Of Yillah, we know only this:-that many moons ago,
a mighty canoe, full of beings, white, like this murderer
Taji, touched at our island of Amma. Received with
wonder, they were worshipped as gods; were feared all
over the land. Their chief was a tower to behold; and
with him, was a being, whose cheeks were of the color of
the red coral; her eye, tender as the blue of the sky.
Lyery day our people brought her offerings of fruit and
flowers; which last she would not retain for herself,
but hung them round the neck of her child, Yillah; then
only an infant in her mother's arms; a bud, nestling
close to a flower, full-blown. All went well between our
people and the gods, till at last they slew three of our
countrymen, charged with stealing from their great canoe.
Our warriors retired to the hills, brooding over revenge.
Three days went by; when by night, descending to the
plain, in silence they embarked; gained the great vessel,
and slaughtered every soul but Yillah. The bud was torn
from.the flower; and, by our father Aleema, was carried
to the valley of Ardair; there set apart as a sacred of-
fering for Apo, our deity. Many moons passed; and there
arose a tumult, hostile to our sire's longer holding
custody of Yillah; when fbreseeing that the holy glen
would are long be burst Open, he embarked the maiden in
yonder canoe, to accelerate her sacrifice at the great
shrine of A , in Tedaidee. --The rest thou knowest,
murderer!"

Just as western consciousness, Tommo, was held as the most prized

157.
captive by the Typees, who would eventually kill him, Yillah is
held in exactly the same position, cut Off from.eommunication,
except that in Mardi the symbolism.is more eXplicit and more COD?
sciously ordered.

In Taji there is the disordered and incorrectly oriented
"white" aspect of humanity. In Hautia there is the disordered
and incorrectly oriented "dark" aspect. Until the reader approach-
es the isle Of Flozella-a—Nina, he is prepared for a definition
Of Hautia by two general sets of circumstances. One is that
Hautia, in her special way, is at once Opposed to and united with
the three pursuers who try to kill Taji. Whenever the pursuers
appear, Hautia's heralds appear immediately afterward, offering a
refuge from the sons of Aleema and Offering a joy that is unde-
fined. The second is that she is Opposed to and united with
Yillah,'with hints that it is she who kidnaps Yillah. Hautia is
introduced in a definite relationship to Taji and Yillah, even be-
fOre the reader discovers that the person introduced is Hautia.
Upon the third day, however, there was noticed a
mysterious figure, like the inscrutable incognitos some-
times encountered crossing the tower-shaded Plaza Of
Assignations at Lima. It was enveIOped in.a dark robe of
tappa, so drawn and plaited about the limbs, and with one
hand, so wimpled about the face, as only to expose a
solitary eye. But that eye was a world. Now it was
fixed upon Iillah with a sinister glance, and now upon me,
but with a different expression. However great the crowd,
however tumultuous, that fathomless eye gazed on; till at
last it seemed no eye, but a spirit, forever prying into
my soul. Often I strove to approach it, but it would
evade me, soon.reappearing.'
The reader does not discover until the end of the book why Hautia
hates Yillah, or that the glance given Taji is a glance of seduc-

tion. ‘Yet Hautia's introductory symbol, the moss—rose, immediately

3.15.3;
relates her to'Yillah. The rose as well as the lily is an emblem
of Yillah herself; the moss is a reminder of the mosses in the

l O
whirlpool which is to be'Yillah's death. 5 There is at once a
prefiguring of the dual presentation of the single being, the
hint that Hautia is Yillah's death ani that Hautia somehow is s
fOrm.of‘Yillah.

The Yillah-Hautia opposition is continued in Yoomy's view of
Yillah as well as in the white-dark opposition. when Yeomy sings
of Yillah as the wondrous bright, lone light in the gloom.and
mystery of the universe, he instantly Opposes Yillah to Hautia:

Like the fish of the bright and twittering fin,
Bright fish! diving deep as high soars the lark,
SO, far, far, far, doth the maiden swim,
Wild song, wild light, in still ocean’s dark.
"What maiden, minstrel?" cried Media.
"None 9_f_’ these," answered Yoony, pointing out a shallOp

gliding near. 152
"The damsels three: -Taji, they pursue you yet."

151

The flower language with which Hautia's three heralds communicate
with Taji then tells Taji that to fly to Hautia is to fly to love,
that Hautia has wrought a death (later revealed as the death of
- l
Yillah), and that Hautia offers Taji all "rosy" joys and sweets. 5
Yoomy then recites verses that differentiate_between the rose and
lily identification of Yillah and the rose and lily identification
of Hautia.
0h! royal is the rose,
But barbed with many a dart;
Beware, beware the rose,
‘Tis cankered at the heart.
' Sweet, sweet the sunny down,

0h! lily, lily, lily down!
. Sweet, sweet, Verbena's bloom!

Oh! pleasant, gentle, musky bloom!

 

315.8:
relates her to Yillah. The rose as well as the lily is an emblem
of Yillah herself; the moss is a reminder of the mosses in the

l O
whirlpool which is to be Yillah's death. 5 There is at once a
prefiguring of the dual presentation of the single being, the
hint that Hautia is Yillah's death and that Hautia somehow is a
form.of‘Yillah.

The Yillah-Hautia Opposition is continued in Yoomy's view of
Yillah as well as in.the white-dark opposition. ‘When'Yoomy sings
of'Yillah as the wondrous bright, lone light in.the gloom and
mystery of the universe, he instantly Opposes Yillah to Hautia:

Like the fish of the bright and twittering fin,
Bright fish! diving deep as high soars the lark,
SO, far, far, far, doth the maiden swim,
Wild song, wild light, in still ocean's dark.
"What maiden, minstrel?" cried Media.
"None 2; these," answered Yoomy, pointing out a shallOp

gliding near. 152
"The damsels three: -Taji, they pursue you yet."

151

The flower language with which Hautia's three heralds communicate
with Taji then tells Taji that to fly to Hautia is to fly to love,
that Hautia has wrought a death (later revealed as the death of
- l
Yillah), and that Hautia offers Taji all "rosy" joys and sweets. 53
Yoomy then recites verses that differentiate between the rose and
lily identification of Yillah and the rose and lily identification
of Hautia.
0h! royal is the rose,
But barbed with many a dart;
Beware, beware the rose,
'Tis cankered at the heart.
' Sweet, sweet the sunny down,
0h! lily, lily, lily down!

. Sweet, sweet, Verbena's bloom!
0h! pleasant, gentle, musky bloom!

159g

Dread, dread the sunny down;
Lo! lilybhooded asp;

Blooms, blooms no more Verbena; 15h
White withered in your clasp.

Consonant with the now familiar rejection of appearances (the very
next chapter begins, "Judge not things by their names"), the as-
sociation of Yillah's flowers with Hautia's is given with the
warning that Hautia's flowers are deadly and withered at the heart.
By the third time, then, that the reader meets Hautia or her her—
alds, her characteristics are completely adumbrated, although not
defined. She is deadly; she hates the other-worldly pure-ideal;
she clothes herself in flower appearances which are the same as
that of the ideal, and she would lure the quester, claiming that
she herself Offers what he seeks. .

”We must turn to the history of Hautia, the story of her
origins, to discover what is meant by the deadliness and withering
at the heart. This is the story of Hautia's ancestry:

In the beginning, there were other beings in.hardi
besides Mardians; winged beings, of purer minds, and cast
in gentler molds, who would fain have dwelt forever with
mankind. But the hearts of the Mardians were bitter
against them, because of their superior goodness. Yet
those beings returned love for malice, and long entreated
to virtue and charity. But in the end, all.Mardi rose up
against them, and hunted them from isle to isle; till,
at last, they rose from the woodlands like a flight of
birds, and disappeared in.the skies. Thereafter, abandon-
ed Of such sweet influences, the Mardians fell into all
manner of sins and sufferings, becoming the erring things
their descendents here now. Yet they knew not, that their
calamities were of their own bringing down. For deemed a
victory, the expulsion of the winged beings was celebrated
in choruses, throughout Mardi. And among other jubila-
tions, so ran the legend, a pean was composed, correspond-
ing in the number of stanzas, to the number of the islands.
And a band of youths, gayly appareled, voyaged in gala
canoes all around the lagoon, singing upon each isle, one
verse of their song. And Flozella being the last isle in

0-.

 

160.
their circuit, its queen commemorated the circumstances
by new naming her realm.

That queen had first incited Mardi to wage war
against the beings with wings. She it was, who had been
foremost in every assault. And that queen was ancestor
of Hautia, now ruling the isle.155

The parable is a transparent one. It is the moment of loss
of the Golden Age, the loss of heaven, the earthly inversion of
the expulsion of Lucifer from heaven, the inverted Fall of man.
The original beings were all Yillahs, pure beings characterized by
mind and love, again, the ideal. Be they angels or whatever order
'we may call them, they were the pure ideals on earth, the divine
aspects of man's being. However, the pride of man-as-is made earth
untenable for saints. (Significantly, Taji the quester abandons
worlds because of rejection of life-as-is.) Heaven did not kick
man.away from bliss; man kicked bliss away from earth. Hautia is
pride, born of pride, the continuer of an original universal be—
havior pattern of man's haughty pride in himself, admitting of no
change or betterment or possibility of integration with his own
highest potentialities. Hautia is the human arrogance which cannot
tolerate the pure ideal because it represents something above, be-
yond, and incompatible with that very arrogance. She would deck
herself out in an appearance of the ideal and hold herself forth as
man's highest attainment. She is an empty lie. To grasp Hautia, as
Taji discovers, is to grasp thin air. Hautia's pride not only
denies the otherhworld, but it bewitches and drugs men into losing
awareness of the possibilities of bettering this world. The demon,
ism of human pride is met again in Fedallah. Just as Yillah is

seen again as Isabel, Hautia is seen again as Mrs. Glendinning. The

161..
enmity of the whale and Fedallah, of Isabel and Mrs. Glendinning
is prepared in the symbolism of I_*I_a_1_‘_d_i_.

Hautia's enticements are those of bodily pleasure, all the
pleasures of earth corrupted into a bewitching intensity which can
find meaning only in the intense pride taken in unregenerate
humanity. It will admit neither mind nor love. It is not the
physicality of Samoa, who uses body as the occasion demands. It
is not the physicality of Jarl, who uses body in devotion to duty.
It is the physicality of a madness which takes the greatest joy in
mankind divorced from.any aspects of ideal behavior. It offers
sex, but not love. The bloom which symbolizes it is withered at
the heart. Hautia as a behavior value, is not limited to Flozella-
a-Nina. The feast of Abrazza is a concretization of Hautia's way
of life. It offers witchery, abandonment, and death. The white
lily as a traditional symbol represents purity, chastity, and the
other-world. Hautia's lily hoods the asp. The slow death of
Donjalolo in his abandoned moments is a concretization of Hautia's
way of life. It is empty and hollow, and leads to the deprivation
and Oppression of humanity, not to attainment of ideal. The fruits
of Hautia's orchards hang "high in air, that only beaks, not hands,
.might pluck."156 The irresponsible sumptuousness is concretized in
Borabolla, who gorges himself into a gout-ridden caricature of a
lnan. The isle of Flozella-a-Nina itself is a symbol of Hautia. Be-
;yond the luxuriant orchard which is "the frontlet of the isle" is a
"lengthening plain" which terminates in a hill which hides the sea

1
caverns that lead to death. 57

162.

What Hautia symbolizes can not admit the superior being whom
Aleema's sons would avenge. Neither god, priest, religion or
devil can.awe Hautia. And this is the basis of her opposition to
the three avengers. Hautia's Opposition to Yillah is clear in the
story of her ancestry. Taji, in his attempt to leave the world in
pursuit of pure being, is doubly Opposed. He is enticed and lured
by the world's false happiness which kills the embodiment of man's
aspirations. And he is pursued by the self-appointed guardians of
man's conscious soul, guardians who will kill and devour the man
that would attain pure being on his own terms rather than on the
terms of an orthodoxy which would deny that very attainment. The
entire plight of Taji is solidified in one revealing image. Night
falls as Taji, following the three heralds of Hautia and pursued by
the three sons of Aleema, steers for Flozella-a-Nina. "When.day
dawned, three radiant pilot-fish swam in.advance: three ravenous
sharks astern. And, full befOre us, rose the isle of Hautia."158
Chapter XVIII ("My Lord Shark and His Pages") has already shown
that the bright and beautiful little pilot fish serve only to steer
the shark toward his murders. This is another bit of appearance-
reality polarity, for Hautia's three lovely heralds would steer
Taji toward his own death. Thus the three avengers and the three
heralds become different faces of the same thing, just as the pilot
fish and shark are part of one team. In the same way Hautia and the
avengers are unified. They are all sharks lying in wait in the
oceans the quester travels. All has been adumbrated in.Typgg and

‘will reach its climax in Pierre: the man who would change worlds is

. 163 0’
doubly Opposed by forces which are different, which act for dife
ferent reasons, but which act the same action. That the resultant
action is the unifying band is an insight into the pragmatism that
helped dictate Melville's choice of symbolic methods.

What remains to be seen is the unity of Hautia and Yillah.

The unity can be approached through Yillah's duality. She is at
once divine and human, as her histories suggest. And, as all of
Mardi reveals, humanity kills divinity and purity. When'Yillah is
in Ardair, she has a milk—white bird, a symbol of Yillah herself;
the bird is named in fact Lil (Lily, Yillah) and is called the
l
"blest soul of the maidens." 59 Yillah looks into the bird's eyes,
and seeing her double reflection, makes a statement of her own dual
character: "...Yillah, looking into its eyes, saw strange faces
there; and said to herself as she gazed-'These are two souls, not
one.”160 Immediately that this revelation is made, the bird flies
away, leaving'Yillah alone, human, and unaided outside of heaven:
the very next paragraph relates the abandonment of Yillah:
But at last, going fOrth into the groves with the
bird, it suddenly flew from.her side, and perched in a
bough; and throwing back its white downy throat, there
gushed from its bill a clear warbling jet, like a little
fountain in air. Now the song ceased; when.gp and away
toward the head of the vale, flew the bird.1 "L111 L111
come back, leave me not, blest soul of the maidens." But
on flew the bird, far up a defile, winging its way till a
speck.
The blast soul of the maidens is gone. All that is left are the
'transformed and corrupted maidens of Hautia, maidens who were once

all.Yillahs. Just as man cannot live in heaven, pure being cannot

live on earth, and again dualities are unified in terms of action.

i613.
Heaven and humanity never meet. As far as the needs and desires
of humanity are concerned, heaven might just as well not exist,
for all the action is placed within the realms Of human.power-God
did not dictate the Fall of man; man creates his own conditions.
What this part of the allegOry boils down to is simply this: pure
soul, pure ideal, pure consciousness is for the other-world, not
for man. Human.pride kidnaps the ideal and either transforms it or
kills it, and in the Hautiaéiillah allegory,.Melville creates a
retelling of the Faustus myth. Taji's selfish will motivates the
attempted attainment of the ideal; pride kills it for Hautia 13 .but
the quester's own pride. Taji renounces pride and earth, is left
only with.his deadly will, and he is a dead man.

Taji dives in Hautia's cave to find the single pearl which is
Yillah. He dives deep and can find nothing. Melville tells the
reader all he has to know. Hautia tells what the pearls are: Health,
Wealth, Long Life and the Last Lost Hope of man. Taji too would
call the pearl by the same names, but differing as they do in their
beliefs Of what constitutes man's happiness, only Hautia can find
earth's jewels in her realm and Taji must find nothing. Only if
Taji abandons Yillah and accepts Hautia's values can he find the
pearl. And as the Ozonna-Rea story specifies, the acceptance can
only turn out to be transformation and death. But Taji will not ac-
cept. Taji will not forget the purity of man's divine other-world.
He cannot reject his vision of the Golden Age past in order to sub-
mit to Hautia's allurements. Taji would search forever for’the ful-

fillment of man's possibilities and would not rest content with man's

ms:

degraded state:

Down, down! down, down, in the clear, sparkling
water, till I seemed crystallized in the flashing heart
of a diamond; but from those bottomless depths I uprose
empty handed.163

"Pearls, pearls: Thy pearls: thou art fresh from
the mines. Ah, Taji: fer thee, bootless deep diving.
Yet to Hautia, one shallow plunge reveals many Golcon-
das. But come; dive with me: —-join hands-~let me show

thee strange things."
"ShOW'me that which I seek, and I will dive with

thee, straight through the world, till we come up in
oceans unknown. "

"Nay, nay; but join hands, and I will take thee,
where thy Past shall be forgotten; where thou wilt soon
learn to love the living, not the dead."

"Better to me, Oh Hautia: all the bitterness of my
buried dead, than all the sweets of the life thou canst
bestow; even were it eternal."l

What, then, is wrong with Taji as the hero? He has the great-
est vision. He would couple himself with man's highest possibili-
ties rather than with man's lowest limitations. He would plunge
into the other world (where through eternity he will find nothing,
although he does not realize this) rather than find satisfaction in
the ready and apparent joys of a depraved society whose values are
shallow. Taji is the deep, deep diver.

The kink in Taji's character has already been stated. At the
‘very point he rejects Hautia, he is made to repeat the revelation of
his disability: "Show me that which I seek, and I will dive with thee,
straight through the world, till we come up in oceans unknown." It
is the same disability implicit in Taji's desire to voyage alone with
'Yillah until their prow touches the beach of Oroolia. Taji will
join anyone, will sacrifice anything to gain the goal of his mono-

maniacal vision. He is essentially selfish. He has already sacri—

ficed.the largest and most wholesome part of humanity to his will,

me.
and he is not interested in bringing his ideal back to earth for
all men. Like Aleema, he too hid Yillah from view. If he could
attain his ideal himself, for himself, he would be willing to
relinquish his humanity and his world to be the sole dweller in
oceans unknown. The true hero, then, must be able to realize
Taji's grand vision, to be able to cast his eyes up to the heavens,
but at the same time. to act in accordance with the preservation Of
this world. The appreciation of ideal must underlie the expedien-
cies of earthly action. Long before Melville created Starry Vere,
he saw in the world the conditions which demanded him.

It is Taji's prideful attitude which attracts Hautia. The
guilt attached to pride follows Taji in the vengeance of orthodox
human institutions. Hautia follows vengeance. She realizes well
her relationship to Taji, and at one point the relationship is
stated. Significantly, at the moment Taji learns of the murder of
Jarl, Hautia's first message to him reads, ”Still I follow swiftly
behind revenge."165 Pride prompts murder and revenge, pride fol-
lows murder and revenge; the processions of pilot-fish and sharks
are duplicated beyond the furthest verge of the ocean's horizon.”6

At one point, and too late, Taji almost realizes that in the
mment he drew Iillah into humanity for all the wrong motivations,
he was her real murderer. Ideal and pride are two faces of man's
quest. Yillah and Hautia are both part of Taji. When Taji brings
his ideal into a realm where it is subject to his pride, he himself
murders the ideal. The conflicting views of Hautia and Iillah

sweep through Taji at a single moment. The partial recognition

1.6%.
that the two females are one, that they are fused, through him,' so
that the unity of the two are ironically made apparent in the

death of Iillah, almost undoes him:

But how connected were Hautia and‘Iillah? Something
I hoped; yet more I feared. Dire presentimcnts, like
poisoned arrows swept through me. Had they pierced me
before, straight to Flozella would I have voyaged; not
waiting for Hautia to have wooed me by that last and
victorious temptation. But unchanged remained my feel-
ings of hatred for Hautia; yet vague those feelings as
the language of her flowers. Nevertheless, in some
svsterious way, seemed Hautia and Iillah connected. But
Iillah was all beauty, and innocence; w crown of felici-
ty; aw heaven below; «and Hautia, m whole heart ab-
horred. Yillah I sought; Hautia sought me. One, openly
beckoned me here; the other dimly allured me there.
Iet now I was wildly dreaming to find them together}67

But the same, mysterious, evil-boding gaze was there,
which long before had haunted me in Odo, ere Yillah fled.
-Queen Hautia the incognito! Then tn wild currents
met, and dashed as into foam.168
It was not until he came to the world (Mardi) with Iillah
that Hautia could appear, and then Taji. did not recognize her.
Now she energes, and Taji is horror-stricken at what he sees: the
guilt and crime of his own pride, vhich has shadowed him, like that
phantom reminder, the green corpse of Aleena, throughout his voy—
age.169 In either case, this world kills pure ideal. If not
captured by Taji, fillah snuld have been sacrificed to the Tedaidee
fiirlpool of orthodoxy. When captured by Taji, she is drawn into
the whirlpool of pride. Yillah had foreseen the mosses of the
whirlpool: it was the one thing she as always sure of. Now she is
drowned in the moss-rose whirlpool of Hautia, who uses the vortex
inage to describe herself: “Cone! let us sin, and be merry. Ho!

wine, wine, wine! and lapfuls of flowers! let all the cane-brakes

156.
pipe thir flutes. Damselsl dance; reel, swim, around me: -—I the
vertex that draws all in.ano

Mohi, the historian, has seen Taji's story repeated throughout
the ages. It is the old story of the min in individual pursuit of
his individual ideal only to find that in the course of the pursuit
pride mutually transforms the ideal into something other than
what it was and draws it into pride's far-reaching vortex. Hohi
knowswhat Hautia's slave-damsels are. He says to Taji, "Listen;
and in his own words will I recount the adventures of the youth
Ozonna. It will show thee, Taji, that the maidens of Hautia are
all Yillahs, held captive, unknown to themselves; and that Hautia,

1 1
their enchantress, is the most treacherous of queens.‘ 7 The
very predisposition thich is the stinulus for Taji's quest is the
very thing which is instrumental in the death of his goal. He can
no longer find her on earth. Babbalanja, :hile still the seeker
with no answer, makes a statement thich accurately suns up TaJi's
plight, although Taji is less bothered than Babbalanja about leav-
ing this world:
...‘tis not the world _w_e_ were born in; not the world once
so lightsone and gay; not the world where we once merrily
danced, dined, and cupped; and weed, and wedded our
long buried wives. Then let us depart. But whither?
is push ourselves forward-«then, start back in affright.
Essay it again, and flee. Hard to live; hard to die;
intolerable suspense! But the grin despot at last inter-
poses; and with a viper in our winding-sheets, we are
dropped into the «.372
However, Taji will pursue his object into death if need be, even
though all that has gone before tells him that heaven cannot be re-

gained in this way; that Just as nan banished heaven from this

158.
pipe thir flutes. Danselsl dance; reel, swim, around no: -—-I the
vertex that draws all in."170

Mohi, the historian, has seen TaJi's story repeated throughout
the ages. It is the old story of the man in individual pursuit of
his individual ideal only to find that in the course of the pursuit
pride mutually transforms the ideal into something other than
what it was and draw it into pride's ferreaching vortex. Hohi
knows what Hautia's slave-damsels are. He says to Taji, I'I.i.sten;
and in his on words will I recount the adventures of the youth
Ozonna. It will show thee, Taji, that the maidens of Hautia are
all Yillahs, held captive, unknown to themselves; and that Hautia,

l 1
their enchantress, is the nest treacherous of queens." 7 The
very predisposition thich is the stimulus for Taji's quest is the
very thing which is instmental in the death of his goal. He can
no longer find her on earth. Babbalanja, mile still the seeker
with no answer, lakes a statement vhich accurately arms up Taji's
plight, although Taji is less bothered than Babbalanja about leav-
ing this world:
...‘tis not the world 3e. were born in; not the world once
so lightsone and gay; not the world where we once merrily
danced, dined, and supped; and weed, and wedded our
long buried wives. Then let us depart. But wither?
We push ourselves forward-«then, start back in affright.
Essay it again, and flee. Hard to live; hard to die;
intolerable suspense! But the grim despot at last inter-
poses; and with a viper in our winding-sheets, we are
dropped into the sea.”2
However, Taji will pursue his object into death if need be, even
though all that has gone before tells his that heaven cannot be re—

gained in this way; that Just in nan banished heaven from this

“9.
earth, man will gain heaven on this earth or not at all. Once the
white bird has flown it never returns. Taji, whose vision is
greater'than his effectiveness, blinds himself to consequences and
will not rest content. 'I ms the hunter, that never restsl' he
says, "the hunter without a home!” She I seek still flies before;
and I will follow, though she lead me beyond the reef; through sun-
less seas; and into night and death..."173
The irrevocable decision once made completes the dehumanize-
tion of the quester, kills his heart, suberges him in the conse-
quences of guilt and murder, and changes his quest from heavenly
attairuent to the diabolism of pride:
Then sweet Yillah called me from the sea; -—still
must I on! but gazing whence that music seemed to come,
I thought I saw the green corpse drifting by: and strik-
ing 'gainst our prow, as if to hinder. Then, then! m
heart grew hard, like flint; and black, like night; and
sounded hollow to the hand I clenched. Hyenas filled me
with their laughts; death-dumps chilled any brow; I prayed
not, but blasphemed.175
amenity and other-worldiness are murderously incompatible. Just
as Taji becomes the murderer rather than the saviour of fill-h, so
Iilleh in the divinity of her dual being, becomes the false lure,
the horror, the beckoning of a. skeleton finger. Hautia, mortal
pride, can no longer hold the man the recognizes her. But he is a
man me does not fish to combat her on earth. He wishes rather to
flee in pursuit of the phantom, and term he does he cuts his last
hold on life. Renouncing his last chance for the good fight and the
good search, he remains merely the bleached specter of inhuman will.
When Taji at last recognises Hautia and renounces her, she makes the

only logical answer to him: “Go, go, «and slay tinself: I may not

1 99‘:

make thee mine; --go, 932d; 32 gay -- There is another cavern in
' the hill."175 Rejecting his last place in the world, the cavern
of the shallow joys of pride, Taji races to the cavern of the
death pride wreaks, and finds Yillah (but only vaguely Yillaho-he
does not realise that she too has undergone the final transforma-
tion from ideal to monster) dead in the depths ofo-of course—a
whirlpool. The dead ideal is swept out to sea by the eddies, and
TaJi‘then makes his most blind and final statement, and literally
says goodbye to the world:
“Ah! Iillah! Yillahl «the currents sweep thee
oceanward; nor fill I tarry behind. —-Mardi, farewell!»-
Give me the helm...
I'Am‘l iv put back? is a life of dying worth living

o'er again? «Lot 23, then, be the unretuming wanderer.

The helm! B Ore, I will steer my own fate...Mardi,

Farewelll'djz
The statement at this point exceeds the wildest blaspheny. In ef-
feet that Taji says is that he will not recognise the world, ex-
istence itself, huanity, 'man's plight, time, or man's limitations
in time. He would be God, he would transcend time. In a pride far
exceeding Hautia's, a pride not of this world but rather the pride
which drives him to replace the cosmos with himself, he pursues
Iillah into suicide. The enormity of this suicide is the atheism
of dewing man's vision in this world by hurling it into death with
a bathing for men's existence. It is suicide not only of the
corporeal Taji, but it is murder of man's possibilities. It is
this complete denial of life itself, the unforgivable sin, which is
intended in Yoomy's last, screaming plea, "lay, Taji: commit not the

last, last crime!" It is the unforgivable sin mentioned in Babbal-
anja's statement that one had “Better slay the body than the soul;

i-

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1.7210.
and if it be the direst of sins to be the murderers of our’own
bodies, how much more to be a soul suicide."177 Soul-murder and
soulpsuicide: Taji's crimes can add up only to that final butchery.
Taji‘s soul is now'no soul. It has no heaven, its ideal is dead,
it itself denies humanity. God is Satan, life is death; the ulti-
mate, Time, wears both faces facelessly, and Taji's denial of limi-
tatiens is Taji's final submission to them. Mohi shouts, "He's
seized the helm] Eternity is in his eyel...‘ And Taji replies,
”New I an n own soul's emperor; and ac first act is abdication!
Hail! realm of shades!" One cannot be emperor of a soul which does
not exist. Time, history, God, seizes Taji's bark as the emperor
will of man, abandoning its dead subject soul, shoots out of the
world. Only'revengeful orthodoxy and guilt pursue the quester into
the grave as he is seized by the hand of’tinm.
...and turning w prow into the racing tide, which seized
me like a hand omnipotent, I darted through.
Churned in foam, that outer'ocean lashed the clouds;

‘snd straight in aw white wake, headlong dashed a shallop,
three fixed specters leaning o'er its prow: three arrows

poising.
And thus pursuers and pursued fled on, over an

endless sea.17§
The endless sea is the eternity of death. The suicide is the de-
struction of all the possibilities of man's consciousness and the
“rite raves of time record the passage of all the sins of man's in-
huanity to himself. The visionary who denies the needs and
realities of society turns his guns inboard and calls down death
and destruction. The nothingness of Time, if it allows anything to
continue beyond the grave, allows the pursuit of the sins of history.
The only i-ortality is racial, collective, not individual; the only

ghost is not the visiting angel-nit is human history.

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1112;.

Basically, Melville is concerned with human possibility and 4
huan limitation. It becomes inevitable that his books will en-
compass themes which are discussions of divine birthright, denials
of i-ortality, and mortality's final and irrevocable limitation
in Time. The theme of Time runs through all of Melville's major
works. In M, whenever Time is mentioned as an active agent,
it is always capitalized, Just as a reference to God would be in
the same context. The most complete discussion of time is re-
served for 21.35.!!! where Melville offers one of the major keys to
his symbolism: there is no heaven, no God but Time, Time imperson—
al, eternal, ubiquitous, empty, creative, and murderous. In sub-
Jection to time, Egg; argues, all men are truly Adam's sons.
They must preserve this world and earth in the time they have it.
Hush action must emphasize brotherhood and must concentrate on
unifying and strengthening human society rather than trying to re-
gain a heaven which does not exist and never did exist except in _a_
universg m by M gar; 3.3;!!! pg 21m; present alight. It is
this moral and sociological precept that allows £3221. to embrace a
duality that puzzles readers, that is, that while there is often
the suggestion that there is no heaven and that there is only a
dead God, there is also the suggestion that all men, even the most
disparate, will sit together cheek by jowl in a most complete de-
mocracy in heaven. The former is true for the concept of time.
The latter is also true in the same ray-mall men will be enveIOped
by the umchangeable and imperturbable actions of time. In 553;;

time is referred to more than once as the final democrat and

1323}
leveller, the first grower, the last killer. In turn, the dual
action of time is often presented in images of green things, the
greenness of new growth and fruition, and the greenness of rot
and verde—antique. Both are different faces of the sane welded
entity. The entity as the thing couplets in all its faces is
represented by facelessness, as in gggzfigggg, just as the entity
as the thing couplets in all its colors is represented by an all
embracing absence of color, or whiteness. This is true of £533;
as of‘gggzggigg, which offers what is far and away Melville's best
single symbol. ‘Egggi is the focal book which demonstrates the
bringing together'of divergence and duality’and ambiguity into
single unity.

IV~

The involved tale of what nan does to his ideal and his con-
sciousness and of what misdirected idealism and consciousness does
to man is not Taji's story alone. Taji's demonism is, like Ahab's,
the diabolism.of frustrated human will. If man cannot meet God,
he will turn to the devil—not realising that the barters with the
same entity. Babbalanja, who quests with Taji, is subject to the
diabolism of the man of insight who, unable to find the last lost
hope of immortality is unable to find the reconciling answers to
the conflicts of mortal life. Babbalanja is the Hamlet, the man
who tries to find a cosmic view'which will at once explain, Justify
and dictate the answers which must be taken. Unlike his polar
opposite, Samoa, for Babbalanja action alone is meaningless. Next
to Taji, Babbalanda is the most distinct idealist in the book.

Babbalanja plunges deep into the depths of experience, trying to

‘u

I’M.
prune away manifestations and modifications, ripping any phenome—
na to fimd the essential reality. The essential reality lies in
the definition of God and other-world, and Babbalanja's despair
lies in the freezing suspicion that there is no God but Time by
which to explain the diversity and chaos of earth.179 In terms
of sheer quantity, Babbalanja talks more about immortality and
causality than about axvthing else.

zoo-V, the poet, tries to find the meaning‘of experience in

beauty, but he too is a physically inactive man. he soars high

into etherealisations of phenomena, also trying to find an es-
sential reason. foo-w, soaring into the magnificently awe-inspir-
ing hopefulness and beauty of the universe, is thelmost optimistic
of .11 the voyagers that nun: will be found. Babbalanja, diving
into the magnificently awe-inspiring deadliness of the universe
tries to find the ultimate reason, and of all the voyagers he is
the least optimistic that Yillah will be found. One simply sees
the creativity of time, the other the murderousness of time. At
one point, in a sudden feeling of kinship with roomy, Babbalanja ‘
declares, “Yam: poets both, we differ but in sewing; ttw airiest
conceits are as the shadows of Iv deepest ponderings; though foo"
soars, and Babbalanja dives, both meet at last."180 Without real-3.
ising it, Babbalanja makes the statement which demands the realisa-
tions gim him by his Serenian dream, for it is the most accurate
definition of existence which, in all its dualities, height and
depth, life and death meets itself in the source of Time. The in-

dividual soul does not continue on in any happy ideal universe of

1:75....

other-mud. Taji's abdication asstmes historic proportions, for
it is not the mortal story of one man's sins, but the immortal
story of mankind's slaughter of itself with the marmouth engine of
delusion. Babbalanja's statement cuts through the delusion.
Whether one soar to find God or dive with the devil inside him, he
finds the same answer—empty, white, nothingness; and the soarer
and diver meet in the truth of Time the Ultimate, both symbolically
in realisation if still in this world, and literally in death if

in the other. Diabolism and God-ism are the same. The duality is
the one and same body of the tortoise; go beneath, go above, to
darkness, to brightness, there is only this one body. All is the
unity of‘Time-nothingness hidden under various pasteboard masks.
The appearance only is dual; the reality is an impersonal and un-
conquerable unity. The quester, striking through the mask, blinded
by his monomaniacal will does not see that this is the one essential
truth, but still he will strike through to the vacutmt which kills
him.

Babbalanja's Serenian vision of world beyond world takes him
further and further into realms more intensely characterised by
brightness, sadness, and silence. Finally, beyond the uttermost
realm is a brightness, a silence comprehended by none, and this is
the realm of Ore. Ore is Time, even in name (gm hora). Man can—
not reach that last boundless realm, indeed can hardly breathe in
the realm but once removed from his ova. Babbalanja's heavenly
guide admonishes, "But know that heaven hath no roof. To know all

is to be all. Beatitude there is none. And your only Mardian hap-

piness is but exemption from great woes—no more...'181 There can ‘

1:76..

be no beatific vision such as Taji would realize. Unlike Taji,
Babbalanja accepts man's mortal limitations. His reaction is not
to storm.to the ultimate boundlessness of heaven, but to preserve
himself in.a manner compatible with earth. "My voyage now is
ended. Not because what we sought is found; but that I now pos—
sess all which may be had of what I sought in Mardi...Tajil for
Yillah thou wilt hunt in vain; she is a phantom that but mocks
thee; and while for her thou madly huntest, the sin thou didst
cries out, and its avengers still will follow."182 When Babbalanja
thought there was no other world, he despaired that Yillah would
not be fOund. Now that he is convinced that if there is another
world it is not available to man, he is sure that nothing which
leads away from earth can be attained. In his realization that
pride-killed Yillah is not a desirable goal but a mocking phantom, ,
Babbalanja hints that the other worlder is herself a murderess by
the very nature of her being. The interactions of limitations and
consciousness create again and again the motifs of the murdered
murderer, the guilty guilt-Chasers, the pursued pursuers, the
sharks and.pilot fish. Always, looking into the patterns of’Mardi's
themes is like looking into the technique of circular reflexion,
the set of facing mirrors that reflect themselves in alternate in-
versions into receding and infinite distances.

Babbalanja's answer, however, does not embrace all the neces—
sities of action as set up in the qualities of Mardi's other charac-
tors.183 Actually, Babbalanja's final position is one of retreat.

It is not Taji's complete withdrawal; it is rather an action

1772.
consonant with Babbalanja's character, and is a retirement into
a life of contemplative serenity. Babbalanja gently disengages
himself from.the Mardi of the Samoas and the Pikes and Hellos. He
becomes the latter polarity in the twin possibilities of the 3233

activa or the vita contemplative. Taji's career has demonstrated

 

that the withdrawal from the world begins a chain of disastrous
consequences, but the consequences accrue from the actions of the
man who does not know how to read history, the man who would ignore
human limitations rather than live within humanity. Babbalanja's
decision to remain in Serenia, although strictly a first-person-
singular solution, harms no one because it attempts to lead no one
into unlivable spheres. Babbalanja's Serenian answer is a bit
disappointing. Granted that his acceptance of limitations is one
of the major needs, and granted that his new and serence life is in
keeping with his character, there is still something evasive about
it. True, Serenia emphasizes humanity, Christ's human principles
and human reason, and is not other-worldly-centered. But still, it
is the philisophical sweetness and goodness that is not accepted by
the rest of the man-of-war world of Hardi. Mardi shows us that if
you turn your other cheek, someone knocks your head off. Serenia
would have us believe that repeated love will-conquer the ornery
streaks in man. Babbalanja had been caught in all the torture of
wrestling out the definition of God, of trying to ascertain the best
course of human action, of trying to define his own relationship to
man, God, and society. All that emerges from his enormous mental

anguish is the anticlimactic picture of the philosopher who dwells

178.
by the side of road and is a friend to man. When he was de-
monized, Babbalanja's sententious and sometimes foolish pronounce-
ments were tolerable. Now that he has taken the cure, he gives
every indication that he may be a crashing bore were it not so
close to the end of the book. Babbalanja has all the good in—
sights and realizations, and he talks the good fight. But as his
name implies, he only talks it. Had Melville meant to illustrate
that Babbalanja is not the complete representation of proper human
action, he should not have made him such a sympathetic character
throughout so much of the book. If he offers Babbalanja as the
proper course of action, then such action is sadly out of whack
with the rest of Mardi's themes. Actually, of course, we need
accept neither alternative; Babbalanja's solution is a solution
for himself, for his Serenia certainly need not be equated with
geographic isolation. Like all other aspects of Mardi, Serenia is
also an aspect of behavior possibility. It might just as well be
the seclusion within the insular and green Tahiti of the soul.
Babbalanja's remaining in the peace of Serenia is the driving of
the silver stake through Azzageddi's heart. The demon, which is
the unanswered recognition of the horrors, hapistances, and in-
equities of living, will remain dead as long as Babbalanja retains
his Serenian answer of love, limitation, and reason. But the in-
effectiveness of Babbalanja's solution does not earn him.the right
to offer prescriptions for action to the other characters, as he
does. On this point, Melville's art failed him.in the job of

‘theme-handling. Babbalanja should have accompanied Media as chief

179.
spearebearerb-and this objection is made in terms of thematic
structure rather than extrinsic morality. In terms of human
action, Babbalanja's Serenian solution, in short, is the one ex~
ample of unsuccessful thematic construction in the book.

The other'major character who must be examined more closely
is Media. In a particular way, Media emerges as more than just
one more fragmented bit of human behavior. He is the only charac-
ter who integrates heart, consciousness and agtign. As part of
the thematic shortcoming of the Babbalanja story, the error is ex—
tended to Media: Melville missed his best bet by dismissing Media
with second hand mention, for actually in Media he created the hero
which the conditions of Mardi demanded. Whether’Melville realized
this and was too "written out" after his reviSion which included
the political satire, therebykallowing the wrong man, Babbalanja,
to make whatever kind of summary statements are made, or whether
Melville was not yet ready to tell the story of the Media4Vere hero,
is something I cannot determine. Perhaps the proper resolution was
killed by a need as simple as Melville's haste to have his sister
Augusta get the long overdue fair copy into the hands of the pub-
lishers. At any rate, Media should have been, with Taji, a coequal
as major protagonist. His re-entry into society, armed with power
Egg;insight, would have been the true major resolution instead of
one more episode which simply managed to get itself included into
the most vital action of the book.

When we first see Media, we see a man who considers himself

withdrawn from.humanity by being above it. Or, to make the metaphor

180;
more accurate, he is the insulated demi—god who is the center of
things, surrounded by, affecting, directing the concentric rings
of human classes subject to him, but isolated from.humanity by the
protective aura of divinity. In a beautiful bit of parallelism,
the Media-way is equated at this point with the Taji—way. The
reader knows that Taji is the deceitful isolato who presumes false-
ly to the superhumanity of demi—godship. 'Media does the same, but
in blithe unawareness of his self-deceit and social delusion, be-
lieving himself entitled to godship by his origins.

Entering the temple, as if he felt very much at
home, Media disposed these mats so as to fbrm a very
pleasant lounge; where he defferentially entreated Yillah
to recline. Then deliberately removing the first idol,
he motioned me to seat myself in its place. Setting
aside the middle one, he quietly established himself in
its stead. The displaced ciphers, meanwhile, standing
upright before us, and their blank faces looking upon
this occasion unusually expressive. As yet, not a syl-
lable as to the meaning of this cavalier treatment of
their wooden godships. 8“

Media's detachment from human limitations is again symbolized by
the custom in Odo whereby the subjects remove stone walls from.the
path of the king, demonstrating that he need swerve from nothing
and that he is immune to all.

Yet in the midst of the treatment of Odo's religion, reminis-
cent in style and attitude of‘gypgg, Media is exposed as a man
after all, enjoying very much some of the necessary conditions of
humanity;

...Did deities dine?...Self-sacrilegious demogod that I
was, was I going to gluttonize on the very offerings,
laid before me in my own sacred fane?...

But hereupon, what saw we, but his cool majesty of

Odo tranquilly proceeding to lunch in the temple?
How now? was Media too a god? Egad, it must be so.

'4 v.

18L
Else why his image here in the fane, and the original so
entirely at his ease, with legs full cosily tucked away
under the very altar itself. This put to flight all ap-
palling apprehensions of the necessity of starving to
keep up the assumption of my divinity. So without more
ado I helped myself right and left...

Our hunger appeased, and Media in token thereof
celestially laying his hand upon the appropriate region,
we proceeded to quit the inclosure.l8

This pattern of presentation is the constant manner in which Media
is presented: he is the central demigod untouched by mortality in
the appearances of origin and bearing. Immediately after the ap-
pearance is the insertion of the humanity, the indication that this
central man is fooling himself, for he is as human and as subject
to the conditions of humanity as anyone else in the book. One
aspect of the name Media emerges from.the pattern of presentation:
within the insular center of Odo's society is the more central
reality of the human man in dead center media Egg.

A similar revelation onMedia occurs in Chapter CLI, wherein
Media angrily protests that he, a demigod, cannot be conquered by
the bottle (the old toperl), rages that Babbalanja should think
otherwise, stammers...and passes out in a drunken stupor. This in-
cident, however, displays another of Media's characteristics. The
man has a mind and a good one. Although unconscious of his real
status, Media has all the necessary equipment fer acute human con-
sciousness. He confounds Babbalanja when he is inebriated, so well,
in fact, that Mohi cannot believe the king is really drunk.

Babbalanja rose to his feet, muttering to himself-
"Is this assumed, or real? -Can a demiegod be mastered
by wine? Yet, the old mythologies make bacchanals of the

gods. But he was wondrous keenl He felled me, are he
felled himself."

182.

"Yoomy, my lord Media is in a very merry mood today,"
'whispered Mohi, "but his counterfeit was not well done.
No, noigz bacchanal is not used to be so logical in his
cups."

Media's ability to become involved in human controversy and to re-
spond to human emotions discloses his ambivalent position, which
lasts up until his education in Serenia. On the one hand he is
harsh and dictatorial, as is shown in his treatment of the dema-
gogical old men who come to him to plead for the common right to
trial byjury.187 He is also tyrannical and oblivious to human
woe, unsympathetic to human suffering and feelings. He is a real

dictator:

...The common sort, including serfs, and Helots, ware
captives held in bondage, lived in secret places, hard to
find. Whence it came, that, to a stranger, the whole
isle looked care-free and beautiful. Deep among the
ravines and the rocks, these beings lived in noisome
caves, lairs for beset, not human homes; or built them
coops of rotten boughs-—living trees were banned thems-
whose mouldy hearts hatched vermin. Fearing infection of
some plague, born of this filth, the chiefs of Odo seldom
passed that way; and looking round within their green re-
treats, and pouring out their wine, and plucking from
orchards of the best, marvelled hOW'these swine could
grovel in their mire, and wear such shallow cheeks. But
they offered no sweet homes; from.that mire they never
sought to drag them out; they open threw no orchard; and
intermitted.not the mandates that condemned their drudges
to a life of deaths...

Now needs it to be said, that Odo was no land of
pleasure unalloyed, and plenty without a pause? -Odo, in
whose lurking-places infants turned from breasts, whence

flowed he no nourishment. ——Odo, in whose inmost haunts,
dark groves were brooding, passing which you heard most
dismal cries, and voices cursing Media. There, men were
scourged; their crime, a heresy; the heresy, that Media
was no demigod. For this they shrieked. Their fathers
shrieked before; their fathers, who, tormented, said,
"Happy we to groan, that our children's children may be
glad." But their children's children howled. Yet these
too, echoed previous generations, and loudly swore "The,
pit that's dug for us may prove another's grave."188

183.

Again in this passage the motif of origins is introduced:
Media's harshness and self-delusion continue the sins of history
throughout the generations. The pit may someday enclose the dig-
ger. In his delusion of invulnerability and exemption from the
sins of human history, Media is the Lear, the Richard II, the
Oedipus, who is to learn through loss——in Media's case a realiza—
tion of humanity which is his loss of status as demigod. In fact,
.Media goes one better. He does not become the redeemer through
the external agency of an Albany, a Henry V, a Theseus, but through
the agency of his own force. Media abdicates his otherbworldliness
and his isolation from humanity whereas Taji abdicates his humanity
and races‘to the other world. Media abdicates the throne and re-
tains the scepter. The Media story, even more than the Babbalanja
story (but especially in conjunction with it) is the complement to
the Taji story. Like Lear and Oedipus whose loss of sight becomes
the gaining of insight, Media's loss of kingship becomes the gain-
ing of true rule and of real completeness. Like Richard II, Media
too late becomes aware of his common humanity and vulnerability,
and this awareness, added to Media's other attributes, makes him
the hero. If there is the stuff of tragedy'in;Mardi, it inheres in
the Media story, fer Taji's story is only the first half of tragedy,
that of incremental sin with neither purgation nor resolution at
the climax.

The ambivalence of Media's divinity-humanity is another defi-
nition of the name Media. He is a half-and-half man, not really a

god, and not really a complete human being. The reality is

18L.
submerged in the midst of appearances, which we have seen as the
first definition of the name. Even the description of the isle of
Odo becomes an objective correlative for the isle's ruler.

The name media has yet more connotations. As a ruler, Media
is a harsh and immediate actor. As a thinker, while still deluded,
as keen as he is, he is a passive follower of circumstance, a
middle-of-the—roader. He follows the bland median way and will not
become involved in extremes or divergences from the haphazard flow
of events which have been good to him because of his origins. He
will not disturb his thought with the sins of history, for that
would undermine his royal, divine status, a status of which he is
acutely aware. To be a centralist, to take things as they come, to
disturb nothing with demonized views of the status quo is to give
another identification for the name "Media":

..."1 , Babbalanja," said Media, "I almost pity you. You
are too warm, too warm. Why fever your soul with these
things? To no use you mortals wax earnest. No thanks,
but curses will you get fbr your earnestness. You your—

self you harm.most. Why not take creeds as they come?

It is not so hard to be persuaded; never mind about be-
lieVing. o 0

"...why think at all? Is it not better for you mortals
to clutch error as in a vice, than have your fingers meet
in your hand? And to what end your eternal inquisitions?
Ybu have nothing to substitute. You say all is a lie;
then out with the truth. Philosopher, your devil is but
a foolish one, after all. I, a demi—god, never'say nay
to these things...

"...Babbalanja, if you have any belief of your own, keep
it; but, in Oro's name, keep it secret."18

This median way comes as an answer to a speech.made by Babbalanja
in which Babbalanja finally states the central theme: the other—
world is, but it is not for man. Let man grow and progress in human

work and human wisdom.and stop chasing the vapor trails of angels'

185..
wings:
...Ahl let us Mardians quit this insanity. Let us be
content with the theology in the grass and the flower,
in seed-time and harvest.190 Be it enough for us to
know that Oro indubitably is. My lord! my lord: sick
with the spectacle of the madness of men, and broken
with spontaneous doubts, I sometimes see but two things
in all Mardi to believe: --that I myself exist, and that
I can most happily, or least miserably exist, by the
practice of righteousness.1
Babbalanja's fevered sincerity is the belief underlying the re-
jection of the other-world. It is what underlies another "ambigu-
ity" that crops up so often in Melville's pages: that the deepest
doubter is the greatest believer; that the facile and orthodox
believer is the man of little faith. Man must recognize the ex-
istence of Eternity, and, if he is to be human and live, he must
reject it as the ultimate goal for lumen attainment. The facile
believer will be convinced of one thing as easily as of another,
and will believe or pretend to believe regardless of his own doubts
192
or his own empirical wisdom. When we understand Melville's de-
finition of the other-world as vacuum of Eternity and the complete-
ness of his rejection of and belief in that vacuum, we plumb the
profoundest depth of Melville's own great and human devoutness.
Media's demigodship is an apprenticeship for his active humani-
ty. When speaking of power politics, specifically the relationship
of England and Ireland, Babbalanja asks, "And may the guardian of
an estate also hold custody of the ward, my lord?" Media cuts short
Babbalanja's implicit idealistic sense of what should be with an
answer of stark realism and understanding of the political exigen-

cies of Mardi. "Ay, if he can. What _c_z_i_1_l be, may be: that's the

186.
creed of demi-gods."193 Although.this answer is not cognizant
of the fact that this demigod creed is devoid of direction, is an
unoriented pursuit of power pg; g2, the answer reveals Media's
primary characteristics: great intelligence, an appreciation of
the powerbvalues of the world, and heartlessness. 'Were he not
the haphazard follower of the median way, relying upon his origins,
he would be the prime Machiavel.

But as the voyage continues, Media is worn down by the torh
ments of humanity and his heart grows and greatens--just as Taji's
harden's and shrinks. After the visit to Vivenza, Media, still
the dictator;lets slip a remark (he is drunk again) that reveals
he is no longer totally unconscious of the plight of the subject
in his relation to the ruler, or that the harsh qualities of the
ruler can and will endure only as long as there is dissension and
war. Media is anything but blind to external realities. "Fools,
fools!“ cried Media, "these tribes hate us kings; yet know not that
Peace is War against all kings. we seldom.are undone by spears,
which are our ministers. -—This wine is strong."19A

In Chapter CLXXII the change in Media becomes more apparent.
He dreams that he has returned to Odo only to find that he has to
prove himself as a demigod and king. There is as yet no real sign
that Media will side with common humanity, but there is every in-
dication that his exposure to the wailings of Babbalanja, the hopes
of Yoomy, and the miseries of mankind seen during the voyage, have
begun to have a telling effect and are undermining the delusions of

infallibility and independence. When Media hears that on the isle

187;
of Hooloomooloo the corpse of an ape has been confused with the
corpse of a king, he maintains a thoughtful silence-—no longer
does he shout out against anything that detracts from.kingship as
he did when he witnessed the revolution in Franko.

During the visit with King Abrazza, it is Media who champions
the right of Babbalanja's devil to speak his view of woe-even
though Media's own peer, Abrazza, is estranged by the realities
Azzageddi utters. It is the first time that Media actually sides
with the subject, the diabolized human, rather than with the ruler
and demigod. There is even another indication that there is hope
for Media. When the company discusses Lombardo's Koztanza, that
epic is associated with great heart, great truth, great humanity.
Abrazza, characteristically, has never read it. But surprising
all, Media rises and says, "And I have read it through nine times."
Babbalanja, starting at this unexpected disclosure, exclaims, "Ah,
Lombardol this must make thy ghost glad!"195

Finally, on the Isle of Serenia, Media experiences his full
conversion. Although the Serenian episode results in behavior out
of proportion to the stimulus (one old man talks and all are
miraculously convinced) the behavior itself is prepared for: what-
ever the old Serenian says about Serenia is what all the voyagers
but Taji have long wanted.to hear. But the conversion is disap-
pointingly cheap and easy after all the talk and incident that led
up to the Serenian episode.196 In his conversion, Media renounces
his delusion and recognizes the brotherhood of man, subject to the

.limitations of mortality. "No more demigod," cried Media, "but a

188.
subject to our common chief. No more shall dismal cries be heard

197

from.Odo's groves. Alma, I am thine." Insight has given Media
a human heart. (It is highly significant that the redemption
figure Emma is cast in the lineaments of Christ] is named Alma--
Soul, the transformation and murder of which we have watched in
the Taji story.) Unlike Taji, the old Serenian makes the qualities
of Christ, or soul, compatible with EEIEElX felicity, not with
what orthodox man believes to be dogma issued from the otherworld.
Like every bit of all phenomena, Alma is the son of Oro, but he is
not otherbworldly: he is the humgg soul, the all-embracing col-
lective consciousness and virtue of the total race. The Serenians,
Alma's most sincere followers, insist on human values. In fact
they would stand by human values rather than by Alma if there could
be such a choice: "No, brother!" says the old Serenian, "Right-
reason, and Alma are the same; else Alma, not reason would we re-

198

ject." The anti-absolutism, the rejection of dogmatic reveale-
tion is the final statement that humanity itself can gain heaven
only on this earth and only by its own efforts. Againnand again
and again the choice, power, action, cause, and result are placed
in this world. So Melville's use of God is not really inconsistent.
When he suggests God in man he means that in earthly endeavor‘man
must be his own God, and the reference points to man's most crea-
tive and wonderful possibilities. When he refers to God as a
metaphysical concept, he refers to the vacuum of eternity, the

otherbworld which is Time. {edia becomes the true human when he

renounces association with the metaphysical God to align himself

189:
with the human God, the total humanity of Alma-Christ. And when

we last hear of Media, he is the complete man. He does not flee,
but fights against the sins of history, whose forces are led by
the vengeful orthodox.institutions of man as represented by the
sons of Aleem . He will try to create a re—ordered and truly
human state out of chaos, or he will die in the attempt.

Arrived at Odo, Iedia had been met with yells.
Sedition was in arms, and to his beard defied him. Vain
all concessions then. Foremost stood the three pale
sons of him, whom I had slain, to gain the maiden lost.
Avengers from the first hour we had parted on the sea,
they had drifted on my track; survived starvation; and
lived to hunt me round all Mardi's reef; and now at Odo,
that last threshold, waited to destroy; or there, missing
the revenge they sought, still swore to hunt me round
Eternity.

Behind the avengers, raged a stormy mob, invoking
Media to renounce his rule. But one hand waving like a
pennant above the smoke of some sea-fight, straight
through that tumult Media sailed serene: the rioters
parting before him, as wild waves before a prow inflexi-
ble.

A haven gained, he turned to Mohi and the minstrel:
-"Oh, friends: after our long companionship, hard to
part! But henceforth, for many moons, Odo will prove no
home for old age, or youth. In Serenia only, will ye
find the peace ye seek; and thither ye must carry Taji,
who else must soon be slain, or lost. Go: release him
from the thrall of Hautia. Outfly the avengers, and
gain Serenia. Reck not of me. The state is tossed in
storms; and where I stand, the combing billows must break
over. But among all noble souls, in tempest-time, the
headmost man last flies the wreck. So here in Odo will I
abide, though every plank breaks up beneath me. And then,
-—great Orol let the king die clinging to the keel!
Farewelll"199

On one level, the three avengers are recognizable as the Furies.
In keeping with the major themes 0f.§22§i, there can be no dggs g;
machina fromuhgaggg, no Athena to appear to calm.the troubled waters
of the state. Man alone must provide for himself. Media does not

Withdraw'now, but true to his new and complete stature, sends poetry

1909.
and history beyond the tumult, while he stays immersed in society
to fight the Furies and the chaos engendered by the sins of the
generations, sins which he himself had helped perpetuate. The
name Media takes on its final meaning: the man who remains agtige-
‘lyiig'gggia.§g§ of society; the new center who tries to reorganize
about himself a new order from the chaos that howls around him.200
Youth and age, poetry and.history are unsafe in the chaotic state
where past and future are suspended in the uncertainty of the re-
organizing present. It will be in retrospect that the result can
be recorded and placed in song and legends—a new and different
pean to that which was celebrated on Flozella—a—Nina. And neither
Media, Odo, nor*Mardi could re-emerge from.the chaos in the same
pattern in which it entered-if1Media is successful, there will be
the cyclic swing forward to the golden age, and there will be a
new mythos, a new'history, a new youth, a new man who will be
recorded and sung. Either that, either all ggtigg and earthly
Yillahs, or else the murder of mankind by the three avengers. Media
is the means-—the media—~which will reinvigorate the earth.

.EEEQi is too sprawling a book to be used as a good classroom
text for an introduction to Melville. But for the student who would
understand Melville well, figggi is the focal book. It sets out on
the tentative path of szge's symbols and themes. It travels to
new meridians of method, motif, and meaning, and it incorporates in
its charted chartlessness all the basic patterns of the books which
follow it. The social and sociological views of Redburn and fihitg-

jacket are inherent in Mardi. The gods, angels, devils, and people

191..
of Pierre are still growing on the allegorical archipelago. The

call for the theme of Billy Budd is first sounded in Mardi. And

 

EEEEQ sets up all the conditions for voyage into oceans of man's
soul and soul's God, into the vast and swelling waters which hide
the rushing form of the great white whale.

Clearly, in 322%; Melville does not relegate man's struggle
only to philosophical and ethical considerations. The description
of the serfs in Odo, the starving people in Abrazza's domain, the
constant threat of revolution and further revenge, the description
of the Chartist march on Parliament as the hammerband-sickle bear-
ing workers who are betrayed by agents of the ruler,201 all show
a sharp awareness of the social and economic forces working in the
ferment of history and of the racial consciousness. The allegori-
cal Mardi of Melville is by no means divorced from the world which
saw the Paris Commune, the rise of Marxism, the sharpening of class
conflicts, and the sincere attempts of earnest thinkers and deep
divers on all sides of every ideology to find a resolution of
tensions in a planet breaking into Mardian camps and fragments. In
terms of the world against which.Melville postulated his book in
the day of Mars, the structure thMEEQE is excellent. But the
failure of the book only highlights the problem of the artist in
his need to understand that recognition of the difference between
art and life by no means demands a denial of reality or a need to
ignore contemporary issues.

The final result of the dark-white, primitive-western tensions

is a picture of a man whose divine reason could order all the other

192?.
faculties or could be destroyed and made to serve evil ends by
the other faculties.202 Yet as any Shakespearean tragedy indi-
cates, the other faculties are also tremendously important when
their roles must be called into action, just like Samoa's knife,
which he put off only fer "suitable occasions." Like Shakespeare
whom.he idolized, Melville was also searching for the Complete
Man, but not against the background of absolutes which the Eliza-
bethan dramatist was able to assume for himself and his audience.
The result of quest is the rejection of those absolutes. Melville
was acutely aware of his modernity, and he conducted his search in
an increasingly scientific and naturalistic world of the nineteenth
century. He took his symbols from the nineteenth Century expan-
sionism.which set the white race to the global exploitation of the
dark. Whether Melville saw plunder of planet, or plunder of race
in the colonial parts of the world, or plunder of human happiness
in the hell of nineteenth century mechanized industry, he saw the
Opposition of forces as the fragmentation of his own Mardi-world,
and he sought to demonstrate the necessity for a unity of human
heart, power, and consciousness. The willingness to conduct his
search by means of symbols born of his own culture is what made
Melville such a great writer. It seems to me that this willingness
as much or more than any rejection of Calvinism, as much or more
than any personal, family reversals, is what enabled Melville to
reach conclusions so much more far-reaching and enduring than any-
thing produced by his contemporaries. His contemporaries talked
about beneficent cosmic tendencies. Or they talked about a man's

first concern being his own soul. Whether apologists fer a growing

193,

industrialism, defenders of a middle-aged genteel tradition, or
the transcendental avant guarde, Melville's contemporaries all
ideologized their positions in terms of natural plans or universal
design that is anthropocentric. That is, the idealism of the
feuntain, Plato, transmogrified and intensified by the middle and
Renaissance ages, continued through the rationalism.of the eight—
eenth century and did not really begin to die (if it ever has)
until it reached the century of technology. The nineteenth century
was really the first time that a Marx and a Carnegie, a Whitelaw
Reid and an Emerson could exist within the same fifty year span,
and whatever clothing language gave to ideology, there was an in-
creasing need for an epistemology and an ontology based upon prag-
matism.and.empiricism. Melville did not dismiss the railroads,
whaleships, finance companies and factories, and he talked not only
‘about the qualities of evil on the cosmos, but about man's prime
responsibility to his century and his society. There is literally
a world of significant idea that separates the literate nineteenth
century self-helpers, optimists and individualists (as disparate
and vague a grouping as it is) from.the man who reasoned not from.
an ideal but according to the facts of his seen world, the man who
rejected academic idealism, the man who summed up his contempora-
neousness in the statement that a whaling ship was his Harvard and
his Yale. When the reader interprets a single character like
Hautia, for instance, he finds one of the many reasons why Melville
rejected the boundless confidence of transcendentalism.

Mardi is not artistically successful. But it marks the major

194.
direction in Melville's rich voyage, a path which has the unnerv-
ing tendency to drive straight on into the most pressing problems
of our own century in our own real Mardi. And together with the
symbolism, this applicable incisiveness marks the failure of

Mardi as a great one.

195.

ROM

1. me some implication is strong in some of Melville's letters --
an implication which states his cognixance that his primary motivation
for writing, at least at first, was money as well as a full heart (
(member the Koxtanza discussion in Mardi). In a letter to Evert
Duyckinck datelined London, Dec [— sic 711., 49, Melville says, "I am
glad of Redburn J -- for it puts money into an empty purse. But
I hOpe I shall never write such a book again -- tho' when a poor devil
writes with duns all round him, as looking over the back of his chair
- and perching on his pen 8c diving in his inkstand -- like the devils
about St. Anthony -- ‘diat can you expect of that poor devil? -- what
but a beggarly 'Redburnt' And when he attempts anything higher .. God
help him 8r. save him! forit is not with a hollow purse as with a
hollow balloon -- for a hollow purse makes the poet sink -- witness
Mardi. [ See above for the poet's sinking, 7 But we that write
and print have all our books predestinated -- for me, I shall write
such things as the Great Publisher of Mankind ordained ages before he
published "me World'...‘ And again, in a letter about the "Male" to
Hawthorne, datelined Pittsfield, June, 1851, Melville wrote, "Dollars
damn me; and the malicious devil is forever grinning in upon me, holding
the door ejar...What I feel most moved to write, that is banned, -- it
will not pay. Yet, altogether, write the other way I cannot." Both letteis
are quoted in Willard Tharp, Holman Melville New York, 1938), 376,

390.

2. the letter to Hawthorne quoted in footnote 1, above, continues,
"...write the other way I cannot, so the product is a final hash, and
all my books are batches."

3. Besides nn. 1 and 2 above, there is also the significance
attendant on the fact that Melville himself suggested changes and
deletions in the "missionary" sections of mag and Omoo so that
the books would sell more copiously. ~

1.. Later, who: Herman was experiencing the torment of his own
frustrations over his manner of earning a living, and whm he was
again vsrbalizing his artistic vision in poetry, his wife Elizabeth
wrote to her brother, Iemuel Shaw, Jr., in a letter datelined New
York, 19 June 1877. "I have Just written...ebout rooms and hOpe we
shall be able to compass a six weeks absence from Nan York -— the only
doubt of which is the being able to leave Heman alone so long, in
his state of mental health, with a free conscience -- I shall try to
bring about suns suitable arrangement and he will have two weeks
vacation out of it..." IS. Am. 188 #150, mm Eleanor Metcalf Collection
or Melville Papers, Harvard College Library (Houghton).

D”

196.

5. his does not mean that White Jacket and Redburn are not good
or true books. hey are, on the contrary, much better than most critics
have credited - Melville's disparaging ranatks about those books as
potboilers have been taken too often at face value without examination.
What I think I‘elville would mean by the potboiler is a book with a
readily available narrative level that would continue the reader's
interest at least on the level of diary-adventure, so that the book
would sell. Inescapably, however, he did invest that level with
submerged complexities and profundities. It is this artistic inability
to stay away frm the "something more" that is intended in Melville's
statement that "altogether write the other way I cannot." simply, he
seems to have confused heavy writing with heavy profundities. 'me
strange thing is that lelville -- of all menl - seemed to have been
taken in by m appearance: to nineteenth century emotionality and
heaviness that seemed to think that great art had to apaar profound
at first blush. I think that Kelville's books can be divided into
three large genres according to their narrative levels. First, there
is the "Just plain story" group, which would include m (ha__o_o,
Redburn, and White Jacket. Although except for (ha—go they are anything
but "Just plain story," they all have the appearance of simple,
chronological narrative. Despite the fact that they are greater than
Melville himself realized, their surface would make them "beggarly."
no second group is the l'obvious-profounds" in which I include Mardi,
Itchy-Dick, Pierre, and E! Confiduice Man. Tony all have the
characteristics of the "crazy'I narrative level which obviously leads
to greater depths, so much so, that the narrative itself tends to
become thick, opaque, and heavy. It is about these books that Melville
cared most as having the appearance as well as the actuality of art.
‘1!» third group is the most modern, largely because in this group
Melville's stylistic techniques have become refined. It is the group
of "delicates," whose narrative levels are uncomplicated and light,
but which offer unmistaksable and tantalizing hints of hidden symbol.
In terms of craftsmanship alone, I think that they are Melville's
best. With a narrative level less heavy than the "obvious-profounds,"
the more exquisite surfaces of the "delicates" offer hints much more
discernible than those in the "Just plain story" group. I can best
define the three groups, as I sense them, by analogy to the madrigal,
the renntic symphony, and the string quartet. 'me best representatives
of the"delicates" are Benito Cereno and Billy Budd. Aesthetically,
they are so redolent of twentieth rather than nineteenth century
critical sensibilities that it is another tribute to Melville's
greatness that he wrote them when he did.

 

 

 

6. I have tried to fit the narrative action of 01100 to larger
symbolic meanings, but have found no really consistmt patterns of
actin, imagery, or symbol with which to work. It may be a cry of
"sour grapes," but I do not think it can be done without a twisting
and forcing of the book by the critic's ingenuity. Finally, I had to
leave Omoo alone (perhaps to the relief of the reader and Melville's
ghost) admitting that lelville _d_i_d_ write one book that is chiefly a
picaresque adventure story. To be sure, there are hints about mind

 

O-e

197.

and body, land and sea, communication and isolation, motifs like the
hunt and the search, but they do not integrate.

7. For some of the approaches to the "break" in the story, see
Melville _i_n_ the South Seas, 343-341,, where Luther S. Mansfield's
explanation of change in story is presented from his Doctoral
dissertation, Herman Melville , Author and New Yorker, 1844-1le
(University of Chicago, 1935): This explanation is largely the same
as that presented by Leon Howard in his excellent study, Herman
Melville (Los Angeles, 1951), 112-132; and by William Gilman in
Melville's Early Life and Redburn (New York, 1951), 164-167; and
by Merrell Davis in Melville's Mardi: g Chartless Voyage (New
Haven, 1952), 66: "In brief, during these first months of 181.8,
Melville was experimenting with a whole range of new voices which
the Opening world of books helped to provide." Davis, whose book is
the only published full length study of Mardi, divides Mardi into
sections differing from mine: (1) The Narrative Beginning, {2)

The Romantic Interlude, and (3) The Travelogue Satire. For
pedagogical purposes of looking at the narrative level, Mr. Davis'
divisions are more admirably suited. However, they do not illuminate
the divisions of the symbolic and structural centers of the book.

 

8. Matthiessen believes that it is the symbolism which kills
the allegory, and he is certainly not alone in this view. See
American Renaissance, 384-385. See also Newton Arvin, "Melville's
Mardi," £3, II TSpring, 1950), 71-81; Stephen A. Larrabee, "Melville
against the World," gag, mm (1935), 410-418; "Melville's Journey,"
E (Jan. 12, 1946), 18.

9. See R. P. Blackmur, ”The Craft of Herman Melville," $1.313,
XIV (1938), 266-282; and Arvin, "Melville's Mardi.”

10. Leon Howard's and Merrell Davis' studies of Melville 's re-
workings show that before he gor very far into the plans for Mardi,
he knew that he would commit himself to the allegory. Had he not wanted
the narrative beginning, he could have deleted it if he felt that it
bore little relation to the rest of the book. Or he could have
condensed it. Yet Davis does not draw the same conclusion: "The
apparent inconsistency in addition to the perfunctoriness of J’arl's
dismissal from book would seem to indicate that the author as well as
the Narrtor did not know what was to happen to his travellers whm
they reached the paradisiacal islands to the west." (Melville's
Mardi, 109.) But this objection does not ccnsider Jarl‘? symbolic
value. However Davis shows cognizance of that value in the very same
paragraph: "As Evert Duyckinck was to sugged: in his review of
Mardi, 'the unphilosophic friend Jarl' of the first volume was
apparently not wanted in the learned company with whom the
Narrator toured the islands of Mardi.” Davis also hints at the

198 .

unity of the narrative beginning and the allegory: "Aside from the
obvious device of chronology, the most significant structural device
is the reiteration in almost every chapter of the thene of present
and future danger." (110.) Without ever pinpointing his objection in
terms of the relationship of narrative level to symbol, Davis sees
that the narrative level is not ordered and selected to fit the
symbolism. He points out that many of the visits to particular
islands are unecessary (196-197). For a study which does find symbolic
meaning in all the islands, see Nathalie Wright, "me Head and Heart
in Melville's Mardi," PMLA, 1.1071 (1951), 351-362.

11. Mardi, L. C. Page ed. (Boston, 1950), 75. All references are
to this text. While certainly not the best text, it is the most available.

12. 1331113, 38.
13. m, 25.
11.. M 63.
15. 133;, 118.

16. Mardi , 576-577 .

17. One critic finds that the significance of the name of the
whaling ship, ArcturionJ dispells the "break" by uniting the ”factual”
beginning to the satiric design of the whole book. “None of the myths
in which Arcturus figures...seems applicable to the situations in the
book. But there is an association to be made with the name, and one
with which we may be sure Melville was familiar, which also provides
a clue asto what he intended." From 1840—1842, the Duyckincks
published a magazine called Arcturus. 'Ihe prologue to the first issue
reads in part, "Neither by assuming this designation do we vouch for
the literary character of the inhabitants of Arctuims as patrons of
the pwesmt undertaking; it is sufficient that Arcturus is a star
that shines high and brightly, and looks down with a keen glance on
the errors, follies, and mal-practices of men."(Gordon Mills, "he
Significance of 'Arcturus' in Mardi," 51;, XIV (191.2), 159-161.)

18. Besides having a real symbolic function, the introductory
story is also a literary come-on. Davis, on page 75 of his book, quotes
a letter from Melville to the publisher, John Murray: "Only forbear
to prejudge it. - It opens like a tue narrative -- like Omoo for
example, on shipboard - do the romance and poetry of the thing thence
grow continually, till it becomes a story wild enough I assure you 8r.
with meaning too.” Anderson's study of Melville in the south seas
shows that Melville lied to his publisher when he presented his books
as true histories, mich is all Murray ww interested in underwriting.
Melville did this purely and simply to be published and get money. He
was quite willing to arrange his books so that they would sell -- in

199.

fact his correspondence with his publishers shows that he was quite
anxious to please, almost desperate to sell. (See nn. 1, 2, and 3
above.) For instance, Melville, who was so irate about injustices

in the south seas himself suggested that his view of those

injustices be cut so that his backs might sell. "He also found time
to sell “me Story of 'lbby' to John Murray for fifty pounds and to
try to persuade him that an expurgated edition [of so might be
profitable in England." (Howard, H____erman Melville, 100. And again,
"Yet 0mo___g was more sever on the missionaries than Moe had been, for,
as Evert Duyckinck wrote his brother George, Melville owed them a
'sailor's grudge,’ which he paid off in his accounts of Tahiti. He
was not willing to pay it off, however, at any considerable expense to
himself...he decided to drop three of the earlier chapters entirely...”
(Howard, 102.) I do not doubt that Melville extended the "factual"
adventure of Mardi because of his strong cmcem with selling his
bOOkfle

19. nice. chapters are mus-m, mm, 1x1, 1x11, IXIV, Lmvnr,
c, or, mm, m, cm, crux, CLmII, CLmJI-cxcv.

20. hose chapters are m, 11., ILL-LIV, LVIII, LXI, LXII, LXIV.

21. his inverse parallel to ‘Ilaji's development is really the
positive thematic material of Mardi.

22. Mardi 172. Italics mine.

23. American “enaissance, 384-386. Also see Gilman, Melville'sEa Earl!
Lit. and Redburn, 246e

21.. However, Matthiessen is not wholly correct when he says that
Melville "...was not in control...and was often whirled about by his
abstractions. You can hardly construct a coherent view of man and
society from the many counterstatements that are made...” (381.)
Matthiessen, in what is otherwise one of the best studies ever made of
Melville's work, males the mistake of equating now Taji, now Azzageddi,
now Babbalanja with Melville. In such a tacit equation there is certainly
neither coherence nor symbolic unity. However, in the same passage
just quoted, Matthiessen's critical acumen pulls the correct

conclusion frail partly erroneous prenises: "...but you can follow the
urgent drives of [Melville'gmind in the direction in which they

were aiming.

25. Mardi, 526-527. hat the discussion of the Koztanza reflects
directly upon Melville's own creation was obvious at least to
Melville's own family. Augusta, who finished the "fair cepy" of
Mardi, wrote to Melville's wife, "Mardi's a book...8 Ah, my own
Koztanza! child of many prayers! Oro's blessings on thee." Augusta
nelville..to Elizabeth Melville, New York, January 27, 181.9. Quoted
by DIVig, 96e

200.
26. Hatthiessen, 386-387.

27. Ill-3g, 525.
28.5331}, 524.
29. m 529.
30. ll_a_r_d_},. 529.

31. {the a, i, and o signify the petty detail mcre than once.
hose same letters describe the girls of Pimminee (Chapter (HELIX,
”A. I, ”d 00”)

32. u_ar_<_1_1_, 530.

33. “Melville was...anticipating the critical disapproval he was
already beginning to expect. Yet he did not mean to give the impression
that writing was simply an uncritical outpouring of any author's mind:
'Oht could Mardi but see how we work,‘ he exclaimed...n Howard, 128.

31.. Davis is one of the few critics to indicate a difference
between Kelville and the Narrator. See Melville's Mardi, 103, 91. n3,
107, and 107 no

35. 351;, 21-22.

36. Melville's only alternative would be to show that Taji is
"writing” Mardi as a running journal, while the evmts happen. But
evm this would be impossible for the last three pages of the book.

37. Hardin, 229.
38o Mardi, 2510

39. Mardi, 267. more is a possibility that “shine was
creating an extreme subtlety in differentiating between a total,
symbolic ”1" character and Taji as the dominant, symbolic part of
the "I." But to danonstrate this woull. be sophistry and ingenuity,
for Taji exhibits essentially the same characteristics before and
after he becomes a god. Indeed, such a differentiation, if Melville's
or the critics, would be an added bit of preciousness and obscurantism
rather than added illumination and communication.

1.0. Mardi, 580.
Ale Mardi, 580s
1.2. For historical background for the events seen in the "actual"

islands, see Davis, 79-91.. Davis suggests (91., n 3) that after the visit
to the "actual" islands is concluded, "the beginning of the voyage to

7.3

201.

the fictitious 'world of mind' " is commenced. ‘Ihis is not tenable.
'nie islands after the "actual“ group are no different in quality
than the islands before that group. Doxodox's island, for instance,
or Abrazza's island, which come after the "actual" group, are no
more or less symbolic of "mind” and no more or less symbolic in any
way than the islands of Mondoldo or Valapee, which cone before the
"actual" group. I maintain that the "actual" islands are simply
inserted right in the midst of the allegorical islands as vehicle
for specific political satire, and that the entire book of germ,
having as it does its symbolic center in 'I‘aji's story, is the
exploration of the world of will and mind in the actual world. The
"actual" islands were inserted after the completion of the first
draft of Mardi. ‘It is my contention that n“elville added them for
artistic as well as self-indulgent reasons, because by this time
Menille must have been seeing the theme of Mardi in every leaf,
rock, and event, and the actual islands were perfect cases in point,
taken from the recognizable world, which satirically illustrated the
allegorical behavior patterns of the manofvmr world - behavior
patterns which preclude Yillah's existence. 'Ihe very repetition with
which Melville says that Yillah is not here...or here...or here is
the method by which “elville ties the "actual" islands to the
allegorical quest. Davis himself recognizes this: '"l'nus the satirical
representation of many of the islands and their inhabitants arms as
obvious reasons for Yillah's not being disc ovexed among them." (197.)
ror the canposition of Mardi, particularly the later inclusion of the
"actual" islands, see Davis, 81-91.. and Howard, 112-113, 122-129. For
the range of satire in the "actual” islands, see Davis, 151-159.

‘30 E1}; 486s

U» M31111, [.87.

1.5. Davis gallantly attempts to suggest that such chapters are
not extraneous. After giving sources for some of the extraneous
incident, he says, "All of these incidents, though often introduced
as digressicns ('But all this is an episode made up of digressions' ),
are appropriate asbellishments for the wesWard voyage in the Parki."
(121.) However, just why and how these “embellishments" are
“appropriate” is not explained - I doubt if it can be. Again,

Davis says of Melville's discussion of phosphorescence, "his
disoussion,of its main outline and in many of its verbal phrases,
follows Bennett's essay in his Whalig 0 son 'Marine
Phosphorescence and Its Dependence on Animal atter.‘ ins narrator's
account, however, is not a dull recital of facts, but a lively and
informal conveisation about the phosphorescence of the sea, with
the intonation of the source adjusted to the dramatic and humorous
purposes of the Narrator. Toe whole chapter afftrds an apprOpriate
conclusion, whether or not it was so intended, to the first part

of the voyage to the western isles..." (123-124.) But again, more

202.

must be attributed to Davis' generosity than to “elville's
selectivity. Liveliness and informality cannot possibly be a
serious justification for inclusion of material pg; _s_e_. Just what
the "source adjusted to the dramatic and humorous purposes of the
Narrator" means, or how the source is so "adjusted,” or what the
dramatic and humorous purposes are, are left unexplained, as is the
judgment that the entire chapter is an ”apprOpriate conclusion" to
the narrative beginning.

1.6. R. P. Blaclsnur goes so far as to insist that Melville
"made only the lossest efforts to tie his sermons into his novels;
he was quite content if he could see that his novels illustrated
his sermons and was reasonably content if they did not..." "he
Cnft of Herman ’“elville,” Va. QEJIV (1938), 281.

1.7. para. 547-9.

1.8. Davis records a similar criticism of the dryly mechanical
structure. "An attempt is also made to indicate a sea-passage... but
there is no consistent system of keeping time...Such indications of the
passage of time, however, apps ar most often as mere devdces for giving
an immediate time setting to the evalts or conversations of the
moment.” (1.1.4.)

’09e Mardi, We

50. Mardi, 3.

Sle Mardi, 3e

52. For one Bossible, but not very revealing explanation of
Taji's name, see avis, 69.

53e Mardi, 5e

51.. See the unpublished Doctoral dissertation by J'. R. Baird,
Herman Helville fl Primitivism (Yale, 191.7). Baird stresses the
Golden Age as the basis for primitivism correctly enough, although
he mistakes Melville's concern with primitives for primitivism.
Melville cannot really be considered a primitivist unless we extend
the term to include any one who uses primitive characters, regardless
of purpose, in his writing. As the motif of unconsciousness shows,
primitive life is no goal for “elville, and the primitive man is no
closer to the ideal, however defined. Primitive man (and this is
most manifest in Bill: Budd) is simply closer to the possibility of
practising Christian idealism of the heart.

~ 550 w 317.
56. Mardi, 6'7.

203.

. 57. Davis points out that the captain of the Arcturion is the
only one in the early books who is not a brute. The reason for this
is that rIhji's legalities are made yet more untenable as the motivating
or justifying factor for the quest.
58s Mardi, 6e
59. Hard-1. 367-368e
60o Mardi, 15e

61. the predisposition which prompts the quester, as an integral
part of the Melvillean story, generally has been overlooked.

6‘. Note, for instance, the reactions of the unconverted Media.

63e Mardi, 22e

61.. Mardi, 77.

65. See below,l61. ff.

66s Mardi, 119-120.

67s SOC “V18, 126-127e

68. See Robert Penn Warren's "Introduction" to Farewell to Arms
Scribner ed. (New York, 1953). This critical work is cited here because
the discussion of the isolated hero offers many analogous insights into
the plight of Melville's protagonists.

69. Mardi, 97. It is true that the savage Annatoo also stood night
watch, but her actions have nothing to do with the unconsciousness of
Sense or the land qualities of Jarl. Her action is prompted by pride.

For Annatoo as a burlesque of Yillah and a foreshadowing of Hautia, see
below,

70.
71.

97 .
10.
29-30 .
30-31 .
10.

[E

F
,3.-

72s
73.
71..
75.
76.

F
a

10.

[EIEEIE

11.

201..

77. ”True to his calling, the Skyeman was very illiterate..."
11-12.

78. M_9_r_qi_, 12.
79. gag-g. 30-31.
30. £221.. 31.
31. m, 12.

82. See Mardi, 12-13, for Jarl and I‘aji's chummying. For rI.‘aji
it is almost all take and little give. .

83. M. 30.
81.. germ. 37-38.
85. Mg, 29.
86. £1115 37.
87. gag}, 37.
88. M1, 38-39.
89. M. 38.

90. My Ch. xv.
91. m 1.7-

92. M14 52.
93. £211.. 1.8.

91.. 33.1%.: 98.

95. 112333;, 130.
96. w 272.
97. M, 271. Note again that the quester bands the followers'

will to suit his own. Taji has no assurance whatever of the brevity or
success of his search.

98. Mardi, 271-272.

99. For the view that Jarl and Samoa have no real place in Mardi
beyond the mechanical demands of suspense, see Davis, 119.

 

. ...llil

205.

100. M8101, 580
101. Mardi, 130-131.
102. Mardi, 58.

103. For melville, earthly happiness depends upon much more than
sexual happiness alone, which is the one thing Samoa and Annatoo do
share together, visiting eachother as they do whenever their needs
dictate. '

1049 gardl , 890

105. For the view that the Parki episode has no real connection
with the symbolic structure, see Davis: "Aside from its relationship to
the 'Narrative Beginning,‘ the whole incident of the Parki is a
separate narrative with a plan of its own, whose fifth and last act
ends with the sinking of the brigantine.” (117.) "As part of its
immediate narrative seqdmce, the story of the Parki explainsthe
presence of the brigantine and gives an entertaining sketch of its '
native occupants. Beyond this, in the narrative sequence of the
whole book, the story has no function. No further references are.
made to these incidents. In addition, Samoa and Annatoo, who are
introduced through the arrival of the Parki, soon disappear.” (118.)
Mr. Davis overlooks the disparity between the narrative and symbolic
levels, which is the real basis for his objections. Nor is he the
only Melville scholar to attribute to "entertainment" those sections
which have no immediately apparent function. "Entertainment” in the
sense in which the word "entertaining" is intended in the quotation
above, is the last basis I should choose for a demonstration of
Melville's work or worth.

106. MfiI‘di, 67s

107. Mardi , 73.

108. Jarl is a distinctively Nordic name, and the man is referred to
by his place of origin: the Skyeman. Samoa is distinctively a South
Pacific name, and Samoa is refereed to by his place of origin: the
Upoluan.

"Jarl hailed from the Isle of Skye...Hence, they often called
him the Skyeman..." (This passage continues on to relate Jarl with
the Noniic. Mardi, 10.)

"But no more of Samoa; only this: that his none had been given him
by a sea-captain; to whom it had been suggested by the native
designation of the islands to which he belonged; the Saviian or
Samoan group, otherwise known as the Navigator Islands. The island
of Upolua, one of that cluster, claiming the special honor of his
birth, as Corsbca does Napoleon's, we shall occasionally hereafter
speak of Samoa as the Upoluan, by which title he most loved to be
called.” Mardi, 86.)

206.

109. Mardi, 86.

110. "Samoa's aspect, sleeping at the tiller, was almost
appalling. His large Opal eyes were half 0pm; and turned toward the
light of the binnac 1e, gleamed between the lids like bars of flame.
And added to all, was his giant stature and savage lineaments.” (96.)

111. I do not inteld to make these Capitalized Figures explicatory
constants for Melville. They are simply convenient approximations from
our own age and are used for illustration. Also, it is inteis sting to
note that in his physicality, Samoa is the Soldier, always being
likened to martial figures -- Nelson, Napoleon, etcl,and feeling immediate
kinship with the ”foot-soldiers" in Aleema' a canoe.

112. Mardi, 121.
113s Mardi, 122e

111.. I cannot prove that Melville was familiar with the
medieval tradition of pearl as symbol of spotless pure being, and
as an enblem of the purity of heavenly ideal. The same symbol
occurs in Renaissance literature, which Melville did read. Moreover,
the pearl symbol has a long literary and exegetical tradition which
need not be limited to the medievals. See Don Cameron Allen,
"Symbolic Color in the Literature of the English Renaissance," £9,
XV (1936), 81-92; also Allen's "Arthur's Diamond Shield in _'I_i_1__e
l‘aerie " JEGP, XXXVI (1937), 234-243.

115. For an account of Taji as the positive actor and of Yillah
as "beauty and mystery and passion," see Stephen A. Larrabee, “Melville
against the Iorld," So; Atl. 912.: raw (1935), 1.10-1.18. For one of
the traditionally accepted views of Yillah as chaste innocence and of
Islville as the man afraid of experience, particularly sexual
experience, see I. I. Carpenter, "Puritans Preferred Blondes," m
11(1936). 253-272.

115. See Davis, 197-199.

117. When speaking of Yillah as quest-object for all the voyagers,
I constantly use terms like "astrsea" and "Disses." While such terms
are not completely verbally substantiated in Mardi's text, they are
good analogous terms for purposes of illustration. I think it is
certain that the Astraea and Fairy Queen stories are implied in Mardi
as well as is the Faustus story. It is significant that Melville had
read Spenser carefully before he began Mardi, and that he increasingly
discovered Renaissance writers and read them with startling perceptions
(Particularly Shakespeare). He found in these writers standards and
ideals which were tailormade for his themes, and his mind constantly
went back to then. For a good discussion of the Astraea ideal, which
becomes highly pertinent to Melville, see Marjorie HOpe Nicolson,
the Breaking__ of t__h__e Circle ( Cambridge, 191.8 ), passih" and
Francis Yates, "Queen Elizabeth as Astraea," Journal 9_f th__3 War bur org

2C7].

_a_n_d Courtauld InstitutesJ X (191.7), 27-82. For Spenser material, see
Nathalie Wright, "A Note on Melvi lle's Use of Spenser: Hautia and

the Bower of Bliss," _A_I._, XXIV (1952), 83-85; and Loon Howard, "Melville
and Spenser - A Note on Criticism," 112A], XIVI (1931), 291-292.

118. One of the very best thematic analyses of Ltelville is
Robert Penn Warren's "Melville the Post," 51}, VIII (191.6), 208-223.
Hr. Narrul sees the "fundamental ironical dualities of existence,"
the relativity of one's own truth to the Truth, the irony of
unanticipated consequences which make impossible an absolute
definition of Good and Bad. In Melville's poetry of the Civil War,
Warren finds the underlying key to the divergent views of Mohi,
Babbalanja, and Yoomy -- that is, the meaninglessness of official
truth and official Celebration to those enlightened by the bullet or tie
whole or the demon.

119. For Yillah as "Ultimate Truth," see Tyrus Hillway, "'Ihji's
Quest for Certainty," LL, XVIII (191.6), 27-34.

120. See Davis, let-19o.
121. Mardi, 566.

122. Mohi's mind is the least metaphysical of the group. I cannot
attempt to make of Noni more of a searcher than he appears to be, or to
make of his ideal a less pedestrian goal than it appears to be.

Actually, he is associated with a search for ideal mostly by virtue of the
fact that he is one of the characters joined in the search fcr Yillah.

But it is interesting that as the man most dispirited by mention of

death, Mohi speaks of death in images recalling voyage. See Mardi,
51.3-51.9. See also Davis, 166-173.

123. See Davis, 173-181..
124. Mardi. 576s

125. Davis sees the inclusiveness of Yillah's meaning and the
error of equating Yillah with one particular thing only, as Hillway,
Lerrabee, Carpenter, and others have done. Yet specific qualities must
be given to the component parts of Yillah's over-all definition. In
the selection of King, Poet, Historian and PhilcsOpher, in addition
to the wide range of islands visited, and the addition of Jarl and
Samoa, Melville presents a group representative of all humanity. The
total meaning of Yillah is the goal of general, unspecialized man, and
the point of the relativity of Yillah's meanings is to illustrate the
need for human completeness in order that the goal be attained on
earth. ' '

126e Mardi , 362e

127. than too, the themes of appearance and reality, of ‘nme, of
cultural relativism, etc., etc., are all one and the same. In this
sense Mardi is an artistic success, for the symbolic structure and the major
theme are one and the same.

208.

128e Mardi, 1290

130. Mardi, 130.

131e Mardi, 141"

132. Mardi, 112. In Mardi the bird imagery is almost always
associated with the otherworld. It is a bird in the heavens that first
stirs 'Ihji's restlessness to a frenzy; Yillah's companion is a snow
white bird that flies away, up to the heavens; it is one of the snow
white sea-birds with which Aleema's craft is at first confused; when

hji forgets Yillah long enough to touch Hautia, a dead bird drape
down from the sky.

133. m 113.
131.. M114 115-116.
135. 11351;. 111..
136. M_a_._r__di., 115.
137. % 115-116.

138. he nnmistakeable parallels between Ardair and Maramma show
that they are the some.

139. See Davis, 132.
11.0. Hardi, 126-127.

11.1. for a similar view, see George C. Homans, "he Dark Angel:
he hegedy of Roman Melville," __3, V (1932), 699-730. his early
article is still one of the best, even though it caters to the earlier
passion for Freudian overtones. It sees some of the major connections,
such as that between Hautia and Fedallah, although it does not see
Yillah properly. It makes the excellent statement that "he dualism
of Mardi and Hob Dick becomes...a unity with mutually annihilating
sides..." 723); and that "he metal of the Melville traged y...

[is that Even if the Titans had mastered the power successfully to
pass the penultimate, they would have found the Ultimate a silence."
(729.

11.2. M_e_u_:~_<_1_i_, 96. 139. 269.
11.3. £9511.» 97. 139, 269.
11.1.. 11% 137.

11.5. n_a_r_c_i_, 137-138.

209.

11.6. Taji has seen and acted upon the difference between his path
and religion's. He sees through religion's appearance-tales. And agin,
tied to this consideration is another statement of Taji's predisposition.
The otherworldliness of 'l‘aji's quest object is again implied when Yillah
is presented as part of heaven: Taji swears not upon the cross, but
upon Yillah' s white arms crossed.

147. Mardi, 267-268.
148e Mardi, 269s
149e Mardi, 164e

150. For the flower symbolism in Mardi see Merrell Davis, "he
Flower Symbolism in M__a_r___di, " MIN , II (191.1), 625-638.

151. he scoring and sinking of Yillah as quest object fits
perfectly. In the chapter on "Dreams," 'l‘aji's soul sinks and scars
in the torments of quest. Yocmy soars to seek his ideal, Babbalanja
sinks to seek his.

152. Mardi, 231..
153. $8521. 234-235-

154. has 235.
155e Mardi, 5690
156. Mardi, 571.

157. For an interpretation of the t0p0graphy of the islands, see
Nathalie Wright, "he Head and the Heart in Melville's Mardi," PMLA,
txvr (1951). 351-362.

158e Mardi, 568e

159. In mardi alone there is no real textual support for an
equation between female and purity, but generally female is quest
ObJOCte

160. Mardi,.l39. Davis would negate Yillah as a heavenly being
and as a kind of universal being; he relegates the allegorical story
of Yillah to the device of suspense built out of her real historym(128).
It seems undeniable, however, that a complete view of the character-
symbol must embrace the theme of unity in duality, oneness in
ambiguity.

161. he head of the vale is where the stone profile of the god
glowers.

.\l II'IIIJI

210.
162e Mardi, 139e

163. The diamond image is very apt. In the dive there is the
frozen and momentary view of the quester in action, symbolically
plunging toward another world. As ”abbalanja's Serenian dream relates,
and as the color symbolism prepares, the otherworld is cha~ acterized
by brilliant whiteness, bottomlessness, rooflessness, emptiness. It
is as brilliant and ahuman and heartless as the heart of a diamond.

164e “816.1, 577e
165. Hardi, 3150

166. Davis comes tantalizingly close to the definition of the
pilot-fish and the sharks. See Melville's Mardi, 116.

167- $2.1m. 569.

168. 1135511.. 572.
169. "Is not that, the evil eye that long ago did haunt me? and

thou, the Hautia who hast followed me, and wooed, and mocked, and
tempted me, through all this long, long voyage?" 572.

170. Mardi , 576.

. 171. Mardi, 573. See Humans, "The Dark Angel," 727, for Ozonna as
Ether and Rea as Rhea.

172. Mardi, 51.3.
1730 Mb 567.
171.. Mardi, 567.

175. Mardi, 578. Davis makes an Undine-Lamia myth; of the Yillah-
Hautia allegory. See 137-141.

176. Mardi, 579.
177e Mardi, 37le

178. Mardi, 580. See Iurns Hillway, "Ihji's Abdication in Heman
Melville's Mardi," A1,, xv: (191.4), 20 -2o7. "...the :11 t through the
reef barrier into the outer ocean... necessitates that the belief
that the search goes on in a world similar in fom and substance to
Mardi itself must be rejected...‘1‘an is willing to seter all his ties
with 112.." (205.) ”And here 'abdication' is difficult to account for
if it refers to something other than suicide." (207.)

211.

179. In this respect, “atthiessen's idea in treating Mardi as a
"source book for plenitude” is excellent and accurately suggestive.

180e M1. 382e

1.81s Mardi, 565s

182. Mardi, 565.

183. I do not mean to imply that Melville's complete man is simply
an unselected hodge-podge of all possible behavior patterns. hat Melville
rejects non-selective eclecticism is evident in chapters LXVII and 117111
("Little King Peepi,” and "How Teeth Were Regarded in Valapee.").

181» Mardi, 1490 ‘

185e Mardi, 150.

186e Mardi, 4270

187. his passage also reveals Media's insight into human conduct
exterior to himself. For after all, the petition for trial by Jury is
presented semi-satirically, and the petitioners thuselves are partial
frauds.

188. Mardi, 169.

189e Mardi, 373'37lte

190. Again the reference emphasizes the aspects of primal creativity
and ultimate murder.

19].. Mardi , 3730

1920 Hard-1, 278.338: 4069 4319 508: 555: 556: 557 are Perhaps the
most obvious selections.

193. Mardi, 1.31-1.32.

191.. Mardi, 1.71..

195. has}, 532.

196. Here the flaw is not thematic; again it lies in the structure
of the narrative, which at the wrong point substitutes dialogue for
characterization revealed through action.

1970 My 559s

198e Mardi, 5580

199e Mardi , 5790

212.

200. For suggested sources for the names "Media" and "Mardi," see
D8313) 77 and 77 11 2e

201. For the political satire, see Davis, 79-99, and 142-159.

202. For the divine-earthly, white-dark appositions, see Davis,
130-131. See also Carpenter, "Puritans Preferrred Blondes, 1919., II
(1936), 253-272. This early work concludes from its view of Yillah
versus Hautia that Melville returned to the shrine of medieval
Catholic purity in a submission which accounts for the violence of
the modern literary revolt from taboos. I think there is no stronger
misreading of melville.

CHAPTER III

PIERRE

I

Both Taji and Ahab were western men. Heaped and tasked by
world and God, lured and.mocked by the emblem.of the ultimate,
they tried to gain heaven with the weapons of the battlement-
storming Titan. They are introduced as Enceladus, but the pre-
disposition that made them men of escalade is never fully ex-
plained. 'Just what happened to Ahab to make him.apit on an altar
long befbre he is injured by the great hooded phantom? Just why
does Taji have the vision he has?

In‘giggrg Melville paints his broadest and deepest picture
of the quester. The earlier books have shown that Typee and west
cannot change places. The childlike ideals of Melville's Christ
are fit only for the barbarian world of the primitive where come
.plexities of personality and of civilization do not exist-a
'world where all behavior is spontaneous and childlike and where
sadl.behavior proceeds from.the heart. Later, when Melville re-
turns to an examination of the ideal Christ, in M Budd, the
Eagrbarian, the quester of the western world disappears. It is

Flossible that the culminating Billy'Budd dispense with the quester

211..
because £13332 presents him fully, answering the questions raised
by £13241. and E2191 25:915. m displays the hopelessness of the
plight of the western man, Pierre, who is jarred out of the false
confidence engendered by the childlike Typee life of Saddle
Meadows. The book traces the career of a man who tries to act
according to the dictates of heart, which is the standard of
Typee-Christ-but Pierre's actions take place in New York city.

Taji and Ahab begin as men with hardened hearts, men whose
hearts become progressively more shrivelled and stony. Pierre
begins as the very young quester, the man with a full and over—
flowing heart. He tries to attain.an other-worldly (chronometric)
ideal using, at first, the weapon of that ideal: heart. Love,
rather than hatred, humanitarianism rather than revenge charac—
terize the early Pierre. Yet Pierre discovers that the other-
worldly ideal is not fer this world, neither fer the west nor
for Typee, for chronometrics in the world-as-is is no more than
an appearance. When it is real, it is murdered. Pierre's dis-
covery gradually destroys his confidence and optimism.(2h§‘ggg-
fidence flag immediately falls into place in the totality of
Melville's works) and hatred gradually hardens his heart to
stone. I

In.§;gg§§, Melville allows his hero to attain the lure
(what would happen if Taji had found Yillah alive; what would
happen if Ahab had pierced the mask by killing the whale?) and
then crashes the whole weight of his theme down upon Pierre's

plight, showing that still beyond, there is nothing. "Even if

215.
the Titans had mastered the power successfully to pass the Pen-

1 And

ultimate, they would have found the Ultimate a silence."
in _P_i_e_r_r_e_, largely by means of a beautifully worked pattern of
stone imagery, of which the hero's French name is not the least
pertinent, Melville defines the Ultimate, the God, over whom the
quester and the reader sweat.

There is little doubt that Melville intended 2.12232 to probe
the depths of the quester's problem. When he finished My __Qigk
he wrote that he had now seen Leviathan, but that he had heard
of still bigger fish in the sea—he had heard of Kraken. Many
critics have pointed out that 213313 is devoid of even that
amount of artistic distance Melville had been able to command in
213131 21915. Also the stylistics are more artificial. Whatever
the reasons—whether Melville had poured himself forth too suc-
cessfully in M92: 2:135, whether he began m with too short a
rest, 213129 is not so good a book as its predecessor. However,
because of the size of the problem defined in Pie____§_re, the book
certainly deserves second place among the long books, and it must
be remembered that this is the book whichMelville probably in—
tended to be his masterpiece.

The problem shapes itself in faxiiliar terms. There is the
repeated motif of the characters' origins. There is the repeated
motif of white-dark tensions among the characters. There is the
repeated motif of a half-and-halfness or duality attributed to
the major characters. And there is, in connection with origins,

the familiar technique of illustrating the characters by

216.
displaying their relationships to the particular worlds they in-
habit. The symbol-values of the characters are further developed
by the interrelationships of the characters; and these inter-
relationships in turn are developed primarily by the technique
which was one of Melville's most important instruments: the multi-
ple view. Multiple view enables Melville to pace the progress of
his plots by a series of epiphanies, about which we shall have
more to say later. For our purposes we can begin with Lucy
Tartan, whose relationship to Pierre determines half the symbolian
of the book.

Again, were the critic to shadow forth Lucy Tartan by work-
ing from symbol _to character, he would reach a totally erroneous
conclusion, as he would about Mardi's Jarl. Lucy is white,
ethereal, described by words like "angelic" and "heavenly." Her
very name, Lucy, suggests light, Lucifer, the bright angel. To
extend this to the symbol-value of Lucy the character, is to see
her as the pure ideal of heaven or at least as the "heavenly"
nineteenth century blond heroine. In the heaven-earth, God-devil
duality, we would then place Lucy in the first half of the Mel-
villean united dichotomy, and we should be wrong. When we think
of the warfare between the amaranth (white heavenly flower) and
the-catnip (green, domestic plant) and extend from this symbol to
character, we should conclude that in the warfare between Lucy
and Isabel, Lucy is the amaranth. And again we should be wrong.
One of the "ambiguities" in {@3313 stems from a diabolic reversal

of symbolism. In'Mardi we saw that the dark maiden (earth and

 

217.
pride) was simply one facet of a single entity, along with the
fair maiden (the other world). In Mardi the quester never attains
his goal, and is never able to see that the whiteness is but a
disguise for the phantom horror of mocking emptiness. Heaven and
its whiteness are never reached and held long enough to be ex-
amined. In Rim, the quester does attain his goal, and when
the values of what is good are examined, then in_ w _o_f m-
_tgg whiteness as emblem of goodness and purity pertains to earth,
not to heaven, and the direction of Melville's theme develops
consistently and powerfully in its inverted disguise. In brief,
the theme remains constant, whereas the patterns of imagery shift.
And it is multiple view applied to the characterization that
gives the undeniable clue. When we look closely at Lucy's other-
worldliness we see that Lucy is described as angel by the con-
verging parapective of characters whose judgment we cannot accept
at all.

For instance, we have this glimpse of Lucy.

Wondrous fair of face, blue-eyed, and golden-
haired, the bright blonde, Lucy, was arrayed in colors
harmonious with the heavens. Light blue be thy per-
petual color, Lucy; light blue becomes thee best-~such
the repeated azure counsel of Lucy Tartan's mother.1

But Mrs. Tartan is satirized as a. brainless woman who has no real
human heart and who can see no realities at all. She never sees
the real strength of which her daughter is capable. When Lucy
comes to live with Pierre, Mrs-6 Tartan furiously storms into

Pierre's quarters in an attempt to reclaim Lucy, and she might

have succeeded "Had Mrs. Tartan been a different women than she

218%
was; had she indeed any disinterested agonies of a generous heart,
and not mere matchsmaking mortifications, however poignant..."
Not only is her heart faulty, but her brainpower is weak, "for,
like many other superficial observers, forming her previous
opinion of Lucy upon the slightness of her person, and the dulcet—
ness of her temper, Mrs. Tartan had always imagined that her
daughter was quite incapable of any such daring act."h Like the
ladthorld she represents, Mrs. Tartan lives only by and for ap-
pearances, and has no insight into the true virtues and fitnesses
of things: in trying to bring Lucy and Pierre together hn'the
early portions.of the book, she blindly and gaily and preposter»
ously gilds the lily. She would hopelessly mate incompatibles in
her'matchmaking, as attested to by the rumor of the young men's
club formed to warn eligibles away from her clutches. "Preposter—
ous Mrs. Tartan...Exceedingly preposterous Mrs. Tartan!"5 the
omniscient narrator hoots at her. ‘53; equation of Lucy and heaven
is not to be taken seriously;

we can slip around to another perspective in the multiple
view of Lucy. IMrs. Glendinning, proud queen of this world, proud
of her appearances, her body, her sex.and sensualness sees herb
self as the dark liquid of the earth earthy, attractive to men of
this world, while she sees Lucy as a pale, ethereal, light liquid
fit for boys who have not yet grown to earthly maturity. Lucy is
"... a very pretty little Pale Sherry pint-decanter of a girl;
and I-—I'm.a quart-decanter of- Port-—potent Port! Show Sherry

for boys, and Port for men..."6 "There was ever a slight degree

2.19.
of affectionate patronizing in the manner of the resplendent,
full—blown Mrs. Glendinning toward the delicate and shrinking
girlhood of young Lucy."'7 And Mrs. Glendinning is partially cor-
rect, for at this point in the lyrically satiric presentation of
life at Saddle Meadows, Pierre is an unconscious little boy and
Lucy an unconscious little girl—but with what latent potentiali—
ties lurldng in each of them: That Mrs. Glendinning herself
would reject the real man who does not meet her conventionalized
appearance values is an added irony indicated by her rejection of
her husband's chair portrait. Mrs. Glendinning's household is
run by heartless and cold pride. There is merriment and warmth
only as long as appearances are not disturbed, and Pierre himself
later realizes that his mother loves him only because he is a
perfect appearance, a mirror for her own values. Were he a crip-
ple, he suspects, Mrs. Glendinning muld not love him. For Mrs.
Glendinning everything is but layer on layer of appearance to be
manipulated into conformity with her will—all, ALL is vanity.
Pierre's real love for Lucy is to Mrs. Glendinning nothing but a
happy juxtaposition which fits her plans. "Mrs. Juxtaposition,
ah! And in your opinion, Mother, does this fine glorious passion
amount only to that?"

"Only to that, .Pierreu ."8

That it is ELIE. Juxtaposition is an insight into Mrs.
Glendinning, just as is the sherry-port episode. It is a revela-
tion of Mrs. Glendinning's superbly overriding wilfull maternal-

ism, bending everything to its own queenly needs. It sees all in

220.
its own image, finding only what it wants to find, perpetually
lost in selfhdeceiving projection, casting from the world what—
ever threatens or annoys it. The effect of the multiple view is
that in the opinions we get of Lucy we get the still instant of
self revelation of the character and the symbol-value of the
opinion holder.

But we need not rest our case simply upon the realization
that as an actor of appearances Mrs. Glendinning is unable to
place Lucy for us. The narrator steps in again to dominate our
choice of realities and appearances.

Looking beyond the present period, Mrs. Glendinning
could not but perceive, that even in Lucy's womanly
maturity, Lucy would still be a child to her; because,
she, elated, felt, that in a certain intellectual
vigor, so to speak, she was the essential opposite of
Lucy, whose sympathetic mind and person had both been
cast in one mold of wondrous delicacy. But here Mrs.
Glendinning was both right and among. So far as she
here saw a difference between herself and Lucy Tartan,
she did not err; but so far-and that was very far-—as
she thought she saw her innate superiority to her in
the absolute scale of being, here she very widely and
immeasurably erred. For what may be artistically
styled angelicalness, this is the highest essense
compatible with created being; and angelicalness hath
no vulgar vigor in it...Therefore, benevolently, and
affectionately, and all-sincerely as thy heart, oh,
Mrs. Glendinning! now standest affected toward the
fleecy Lucy; still, lady, thou dost very sadly mistake
it, when the proud, double-arches of the bright breast-
plate of thy bosom, expand with secret triumph over one,
whom.thou so sweetly, but still so patronizingly
stylest, The Little Lucy.9

 

 

 

Mrs. Glendinning's vigor is the vigor of world enough and pride,
but Lucy's is to be the vigor of the highest and most completely
human activity. In comparison, Isabel's "vigor" is the pliable,

elastic nothingness of Time, and in this will be a clearer hint

221a
about the basic tensions between the symbol-characters. At any
rate, we cannot accept Mrs. Glendinning's definition of Lucy. It
is Lucy herself who by her actions will reveal what she is, as we
will see shortly.

IMrs. Tartan and Mrs. Glendinning represent the appearance
world of human society, and they provide no insight. Isabel
represents the other—world, and she does not meet Lucy until the
end of the book, so she provides no clue. Pierre is the only re-
maining character whose opinion of Lucy can be heard, and through
Pierre's eyes we get another modified view of Lucy as angel. For
him she is not even the fragile pearl of girlhood that she is for
Mrs. Glendinning. For him.Lucy is not of this world at all. Y;
to wed this heavenly fleece? Methinks one husbandly embrace would
break her airy zone, and she exhale upward to that heaven whence
she hath hither come, condensed to mortal sight. It cannot be;

10 When Pierre first

I am.of heavy earth, and she of airy light."

greets Lucy at the very beginning of the book, he introduces her

as his vieW'of the angelic.
Truly, thought the youth, with a still gaze of inexs
pressible fondness; truly the skies do ope, and this
invoking angel looks down.-"I would return thee thy
manifbld good mornings, Lucy, did not that presume thou
hadst lived through the night; and by heaven thou be-
long'st to the regions of an infinite day!"11

But the Pierre who feels this way about Lucy is the early

Pierre whose eyes have not yet seen truth, whose soul has not yet

known grief. He is a magnificent animal, like one of his well

fed and well bred colts, but he and his horses can see just about

equally far into realities. The early Pierre is a satirized

222.
creature, revolving like a well trained satellite about the strong
gravitational pull of his mother's dominion. We cannot believe
what the early Pierre believes, not only about Lucy, but, as we
shall see, about anything.

The transition into the reality of Lucy, which is quite the
opposite of her appearance, is provided by the narrator. On the
one hand the narrator satirizes Lucy and on the other he furnishes
directly stated hints about Lucy's earthly mortality and common
humanity. Says he:

My proper province is with the angelical part of
Lucy. But as in some quarters, there prevails a sort
of prejudice against angels, who are merely angels and
nothing more; therefore I shall martyrize myself, by
letting such gentlemen and ladies into some details of
Lucy Tartan's history.l“

After all the sugar and treacle of the too too pretty life at
Saddle Meadows, the satire is of course obvious in the words "I
shall martyrize myself;" at the same time the narrator implies
that Lucy is something more than angel and is allowed to intro-
duce the motif of origins in order to bind Lucy to strictly non-
angelic guideposts for the reader. With the technique of the
direct hint (Melville uses it about as delicately as a sledge
hammer) the narrator presents a picture of the early, unconscious
Lucy and then in an immediately following statement tells us that
this is the false picture:

At this moment, Lucy just upon the point of her
departure, was hovering near the door; the setting sun,
streaming through the window, bathed her whole form in
golden loveliness and light; that wonderful, and most
vivid transparency of her clear Welsh complexion, now

fairly glowed like rosy snow. Her flowering, white,
blue-ribboned dress, fleecily invested her. Pierre

223.
almost thought that she could only depart'the house by
floating out ot the open window, instead of actually
stepping from.the door. All her aspect to him, was
that moment touched with.an indescribable gayety,
buoyancy, fragility, and an unearthly evanescence.l3

This is at once contradicted by'a continuation of the multiple
view which gives further realization of Pierre's limited sight at
the same time that it negates the picture of the angel:

Youth is no philosopher. Not into young Pierre's
heart did there then come the thought, that as the
glory of the rose endures but for a day, so the full
bloom.of girlish.airiness and bewitchingness passes
from.the earth almost as soon; as jealously absorbed by
those frugal elements, which again incorporate that
translated girlish.bloom, into the first expanding
flowerhbud. Not into young Pierre, did there then
steal that thought of utmost sadness; pondering on the
inevitable evanescence of all earthly loveliness; which
makes the sweetest things of life only food for ever—
devouring and omnivorous melancholy.l

So much for what others think of Lucyh—all the opinions are
but so much Clatter, none of them correct. "Yet how would Lucy
Tartan shrink from.all this noise and clatter! She is bragged
of, but not brags. Thus far she hath floated as stilly through
this life as thistle-down floats over meadows. Noiseless, she,
except with Pierre; and even with him.ahe lives through many a
panting hush. Oh, those loveapauses that they knowh-how ominous
of their fhture; for pauses precede the earthquake, and every
other terrible commotion! But blue their sky awhile, and light-

1 .
some all their chat, and frolicsome their humors." 5 The stilly
essence of Lucy's being is sufficiently pictured in actions so
that she need not communicate herself in words to the reader. In

fact, except for the minor character Plinlimmon, of all the

characters, Lucy communicates least in directly revealing words,

224’
and in comparison, Isabel, Pierre and I-Irs. Glendinning are rela-
tively open books. The real essence of Lucy is something strong,
not fragile; something intensely serious, not gay; something
buoying rather than buoyant; and above all earthly-—it is the es—
sential symbolic value which, when revealed, amazes all the
characters, who had judged Lucy wrongly by judging her appearance.

What is this essence? It is what Sedgwick accurately de—
fined as the land sense. There is little sea~land tension as such
in terms of actual imagery in 32232? but the exact same opposition
of worlds that includes the general Melvillean sea—land tension
does exist here. Lucy, for instance, was "born among brick and
mortar in a sea-port, [but] she still pined for unbaked earth and
inland grass."16 And "though her home was in the city, her heart
Was twice a year in the country."17 Isabel, Lucy's direct oppo-
site and otherworld counterpart, highlights the tension by her
longing for the sea. The, sea is but a dim memory for Isabel,
buried deep in her Yillah-like vague remembrance of her origins;
and when she once more feels the motions of the land-departing
sea waves, her frenzy to travel outward to the infinite blue be-
comes so uncontrollable, that Lucy and Pierre have to restrain
her by force from irrevocable immersion in the otherworldly
element of ocean.

But the land sense which Lucy represents must be defined
specifically. It is not the landishness of the world of Mrs.
Glendinning, or the Klan-of—vrar conventionality of Lucy's own

brothers. It is not the cold cruelty of the city, for ‘Lucy

‘ 225s
‘ wishes to flee from the city in order to return to the area of
peace and fertility, the ultimate humanity of the singular green
Tahiti of the soul:
80 the sweet linnet, though born inside of wires in
a lady's chamber on the ocean coast, and ignorant all
its life of any other spot; yet, when spring-time comes,
it is seized with flutterings and vague impatiences; it
cannot eat or drink fer these wild longings. Though un-
learned by any experience, still the inspired linnet
divinely knows that the inland migrating season has come.
And just so with Lucy in her first longings for the
verdure.
Lucy as land must be divorced from.land as the symbol of smug con—
vention and dry rot, the land from.which.the Bulkingtons, those
true seers of reality flee. On the debit side of the ledger are
the Aunt Charities, the Pelegs and Bildads, the exponents of
hypocrisy and false heart and brain. On the credit side are the
Lucys who see through to reality once they shed their unconscious-
ness. In the early'books of Pierre, Lucy is unconscious. She is
a gossamer thing like Yillah, unexposed to experience; but whereas
experience kills the otherworldly Yillah, it brings out the steel
in the land sense which is Lucy, and so at the end of the book
' Lucy reappears as a being divested of the roseate glows of super-
ficial appearances, whitened and hardened to a fine determination
to support and protect Pierre as long as he remains on earth.
She leads back to the human community at the same time that she
herself rejects the hypocrisy'and.dry~rot of that community as
symbolized by her rejection of her family. As soon aslmmy'ap—
pears at the Apostles, otherworld Isabel feels a strong displac-

ing agency. All the rest of humanity constitutes what Isabel calhs

926.
the "banded world"--it includes the conscious pride of rule and
appearance of Mrs. Gldinning; the flighty and unconscious love of
appearance of the lady-like world of Mrs. Tartan; the stupid and
dangerous love of appearance of the man-of-war world of Lucy's
brothers; and the mixture of heartless and/or mindless mass, the
Typee subjects who live by appearance either in the lush meadows
of the country or the harsh stones of the City. Lucy is related-
unlike Isabel—to all: these aspects of hmnanity. In contrast to
the others, Lucy represents what later in the book Melville is to
define as man's earthly domestic felicity, a domesticity which ex-
pands to the felicity of the entire race, which is not self-
centered and which need not be blind. But in all cases, it is of
this world and earth, and so, like the rest of the banded world is
also ultimately aligned against Isabel. In fine, except for her
infection by Pierre, Lucy points in a direction which would lead
Pierre to completion were it not already too late for her ministra-
tions. I

When she does reappear,' purged of softness and blindness, she
herself is the new enthusiast, beginning the cycle all over again
by believing herself prompted by God, by aiming toward heaven.
Like Pierre and because of Pierre, the element of rnlmanity that
can provide the proper answers becomes misdirected by a mis-see-
ing of its own proper function and its own proper goal. The read-
er is allowed glimpses of Lucy's underlying true definition even
when the view of the other characters is limited. While still the

unconscious rosy-white girl in Saddle Meadows bliss, ..."at bottom

227.

she rather cherished a notion that Pierre bore a charmed life,
and by no earthly possibility could die from her, or experience
any harm, when she was within a thousand leagues."19 The irony is
inherent not in Lucy's notion but in the fact that her unconscious-
ness prevents the activation of her preservative essence until
Pierre has already been ruined by the initial action of an other—
world characterh-and even when it is too late, Pierre feels in
Lucy's. presence a force which would return him to human warmth.
Significantly, at the very moment when Pierre would treat Isabel
according to human and earthly needs rather than according to the
dictates of ideal virtue, at the moment that he is on the point of
bodily, incestuous relations with her, he appeals to her with a
term that would be incomprehensibly strange were it not reflexive
to the symbolic value of Lucy: "'Hark thee to thy furthest inland
soul'-thrilled Pierre in a steeled and quivering voice."20
Pierre has enough of quest within him; like Ahab, his greatest
need is for land-humanity.

The whiteness and rose-ness of Lucy would tend to confuse
Lucy with Yillah, but even here, at the very opening of the book,
Melville gives a hint about the inversion of his symbolism.
Pierre looks up at Lucy‘s open casement and sees "a rich, crimson
flower" resting against Lucy's pillow, just as "not an hour ago,
[zucyflé7 own cheek must have rested there." Pulling at the shrub
to reach the blossom, Pierre 'dislodged.the flower, and conspicu-
ously fastened it in his bosom. -'I must away now, Lucy; see!

21
under these colors I march'.n It is not fer long that Pierre

0'

22.8.
is to march under the colors of this world, but while he does it
is the rich, red suggestion of earthly humanity, not the sterile
color of the God-hung'ering amaranth.

It is not only in her own thoughts and flower associations
that the as-yet-unconscious Lucy is related to earth: her very
actions betray her fear and unwillingness to depart the level
plain of earth for the chilly mountain heights of God-seeking.

In Piggy; as in the other books, sea, mountain, and brooding for-
est are associated with God and the quest for otherworld values.
The Delectable Mountains are really the mountains of the Titans,
a reminder of the unassailable otherworld. The earthbound pine
tree which reaches upward higher than any tree of the forest is
the mournful reminder of Isabel's enigmatic face. And the sea is
a familiar story. Just as the narrator reveals Lucy's negative
relationship to sea when he has her restrain Isabel from suicidal
inmersion in the otherworld, so, in one revealing instance, the
narrator exposes Lucy's negative relationship to mountain.

When Pierre and Lucy ride to the mountains for a picnic to-
gether, Pierre turns passionately to Lucy, mistakenly seeing in
her an Isabel, a being of mystery by whose depth he has already
been attracted. The very traditional imagery with which Pierre
addresses Lucy is imagery which applies to the otherworldly Isa—
bel. "Thou art nw heaven, Lucy; and here I lie thy shepherd-
king, watching for new eye-stars to rise in thee. Hal I see Venus'
transit now; ~10! a new planet there3—and behind all, an infinite

starry nebulousness, as if thy being were backgrounded by some

229..
22

spangled veil of mystery." Lucy is too inexperienced to realize
that she has just heard the voice of Pierre's predisposition which
demands the passionate mystery of the quest. Yet, the land-sense
which holds no secrets, which is all open and unambiguous is
vaguely troubled by the outburst, as if it senses the operation of
powers inimical to her well being. "Is Lucy deaf to all these
ravings of his lyric love? Why looks she down, and vibrates so;
and why now from her over-charged lids, drops such warm drops as
these? No joy now in Lucy's eyes, and seeming tremor on her lips.

"I'Ahl thou too ardent and impetuous Pierre!”23 And in Lucy's
reaction is the clue to Pierre's plight. The latent frenzy, the
predisposition for ideal absolutes will murder Pierre in quest as
it did Taji and Ahab, and the land sense of common humanity in-
tuits that the fierce fires of the quest burn too hot for life,
burn along a path that leads away from life. The bursting of the
hot heart's shell, the lurid and satanic fires of the soul's try-
works an kill earth and humanity and quester in gage as it has
in eyery other book, and the direct hint of this has been supplied
by the narrator immediately after Lucy had been introduced at the
beginning of the book: "Thus, with a graceful glow on his limbs,
and soft, imaginative flames in his heart, did this Pierre glide
toward maturity, thoughtless of that period of remorseless insight,
when all these delicate warmths should seem frigid to him, and he
should madly demand more ardent fires."24 The early Pierre does
not burn actively for the ideal absolutes because he believes that

he has them, that they exist all about him in the appearance world

230.
of his youth. It is only when the appearances are pierced by re-
: morseless insights that the fires of truth roll their smokes of
black billows in Pierre's soul and that the flames of his pre-
disposition burn upward fiercely to consume all in the activated
desire fer'the ideal which in specifics are termed absolute Truth,
Virtue, and Honor. Lucy, vaguely stirred to uneasiness by the
sudden hint of what lies within Pierre, correctly senses the
source of the quest beneath the smiling appearances of the sup—
posedly ideal life she leads with Pierre: she asks Pierre to tell
her’of Isabel, and the remainder of the section continues in re-
peated images of the demonic fires that harden the heart to stone:

Blue is the sky, oh, bland the air Pierre; —-but-—
tell me the story of the face[ Isabel's7, -—the dark-
eyed, lustrous, imploring, mournful face, that so
mystically paled and shrunk at thine. Ah, Pierre, some-
times I have thought-never will I wed with my best
Pierre, until the riddle of that face be known. Tell
me, tell me, Pierre; -as a fixed basilisk, with eyes
of steady, flaming mournfulness, that face this instant
fastens no.1? .

She wishes to know the power with which she has to contend for
Pierre, and again she correctly senses the area of her opponent's
power when she continues to plead with Pierre that he share with
her every last agitation and troubling thought "that ever shall
sweep into thee from.the wide atmosphere of all things that hem
26

mortality." And again Lucy is defined as the catnip rather than
the amaranth. And while in the mountains, the home of the amarh
anth, Luqy is exposed-via Pierre's outbursts—-to the appallingly

vast and vacant opposition of the other world. Mountain is not

her world. She must return to earth, the dooryard, the human

2.31...
habitation of the catnip. "Up, my Pierre; let us up, and fly these
hills, whence, I fear, too wide a prospect meets us. Fly we to the
plain...lo, these hills now seem.all desolate to me, and the vale
all verdure...Now they rolled swiftly down the slopes; nor tempted
the upper hills; but sped fast for the plain. Now the cloud hath
passed.from.Lucy's eye; no more the lurid slanting light forks up-
ward from.her lover's brow. In the plain they find peace, and
love, and joy again."27

The specific determination of the kind of land sense Lucy
symbolizes is to be found also in her origins. As usual, the
origins are double. 0n the one hand, her father was "an Eggly and
most cherished friend of Pierre's father." Pierre's father as a
young man pursued not the conventional and proud world of Mrs.
Glendinning, but he pursued the otherworld.28 Through association
with Pierre‘s father when he was a young man, part of Lucy's herit-
age is the aspiring, the heaven assaulting. Part of Lucy‘s herit-
age is connected with the divine, or otherworldly; but for Lucy
divinity will be manifested in existence dedicated to this earth
rather than to heaven. Mixed with this small strain of heaven, is
the more preponderant element of world and earth. Her brothers
are naval officers, conventional, dbtuse, and proud. They are
not seaemen as Bulkington or Ahab was; rather they are guardians
of the cold proprieties of the glittering society which.1andlords
this man-of-war world. Lucy‘s mother has already been seen. Yet
there is one more element in Lucy's origins which associates her

most deviously and subtly and yet most strongly with an earthly

232.
anti-idealism and anti—heavenism. She is Welsh. In that one
moment when she is pictured as an angel caught in the rays of the
setting sun, the narrator curiously introduces her clear Welsh
complexion. It is also curious that Lucy's Aunt, the most minor
character in the novel, one who is mentioned but once or twice, is
twice mentioned by name—and this name is unmistakably Welsh: Aunt
Llanyllyn. Even were the aunt a major character, it would be
curious that Melville should employ such a name. Yet this name
serves a purpose. In sound and in national origin it recalls
another Welsh name that plays an important role in the book:
Plinlimmon. And the name Plinlimmon is directly associated with
a philOSOphy that warns men to abstain from idealism in action,
to be expedient, to realize that the morality of heaven and God
and the teachings of Christ are not only inoperative but are in-
applicable to this earth. Yet there is one important distinction
between Lucy and Plinlimmon. Plinlimmon is non-benevolent.29
Lucy is motivated by her highest, divine humanity; she is, benevo-
lent and joins heart and head. Lucy is primarily heart, like
Pierre, but her heart leads to different avenues of existence.
Indeed, when Pierre first tells her that he is claimed by the other-
world and not by earth—when he tells her that he has "married"
another, Lucy clutches her breast and cries "My heart! My heart!"
It is by means of a wounded heart that Lucy's consciousness is in-
formed. It is the quester's first murder. The early Lucy dies
and her unconsciousness is dropped like scales from the eyes, and
the heart becomes activated. When she reappears after the purging

and maturing heart-wound, she is symbolically clean-white. The

23}.
loss of semi-consciousness is loss of a world, loss of the Typee
' humanity of the early'Lucy. Through Pierre she has been touched
by the other world and in the gained whiteness of consciousness,
she has lost the blissful rosiness of Saddle Meadows. She is now
the human being who is ready to attempt to control the conditions
of life rather than to ride haphazardly upon the tide of events,
pushed and prodded here and there willynilly'by the landlords of
the conventional world. It is Lucy who introduces the topic of
bread-winning in the poverty stricken household of Pierre. It is
Lucy who initiates action by voluntarily and with determination
coming to Pierre. Even Lucy's instrument of work (work, which in
itself is something new to Lucy), the easel, is stripped of the
last vestige of the clinging greenness of her earlier unconscious
Typee life: the potted ivy in which the legs of the easel had been
fermerly planted are gone. Pierre smoulders with the baleful and
fiery light of Lucifer, the diaboman who would climb to heaven by
escalade. Lucy shines with a pure, white light—-in this case the
real and only light for mankind, the light of heartful humanity
which would sustain itself by the work of this world but which
deceives itself into believing in and representing itself as the
light of heaven. And, of course, Lucy's new whiteness, the white—
ness of "heaven" is the mark of the quester: she too is now'sterb
ile, minus rosiness, minus green leaves. Again the name unites
all the facets of appearance into one entity: in origins, Lucy,
Pierre and Isabel have common meeting grounds. The fire of man's

aspiration is common to them all. It is the divergence of ggal

234..
which splits the basically single entity of mankind, common to-
itself in mortality, into needlessly warring camps.

The inversion of whiteness as symbol of human character is
completed by Melville in his creation of Lucy and Isabel, although
the symbol of whiteness for thigg, i.e. amaranth, remains constant.
Again there is the clue to the meaning of Melville's insistence
that Moby Dick is not a mammal-for that would be too close to
humanity-—but is a fish, a thing, a true denizen of all that the
sea suggests. Summarily, in her predominantly human and anti-
heavenly origins, and in her color and her goal, Lucy sets up the
first point of tension in her direct and irreconcilable opposition
to Isabel. were there no mountain of eVidence concerning the de-
finition of Lucy, we would need no more than one question placed
by the narrator in Pierre's mind. The question states the basic
equation and defines Lucy and the opponent she sensed so vaguely
during the picnic in the mountains. Pierre has to choose between
the humanity of'Lucy and the otherworldly absolute values which
underlie his championing of Isabel, and the narrator says: "Then,
for the time, all minor things were whelmed in him; his mother,
Isabel, the whole wide world; and only one thing remained to him;
~fithig‘gll-including queryh-LUCY 0R GOD?30

In order to see the thematic pattern of this equation, we
have to turn back a moment to scrutinize the life of Saddle
Meadows in order to understand why the tension of Pierre's choice

is the entire book in miniature.

235..
II

The introduction of Saddle Meadows sets up the three major
characters in relation to the world in which the action is to take
place. Saddle Meadows is presented in honeyed phrases of an
ideality which is not to be taken seriously. Mr. Braswell is un—
doubtedly correct when he says that "Instead of showing a sudden
and inexplicable loss of taste, or the debilitating influence of
cheap, sentimental fiction he [fielvillej is known to have thought
ridiculous, his style reveals a satirical purpose."31

It is especially important to notice that the gaudy gift-book
dialogue in which'Pigggg abounds is largely fitted to a satirical
revelation of the speaker. Thus, a typical mid-nineteenth century
horror such as this:

"Curses, wasp-like, cohere on that villian, Ned,
and sting him to his deathl" cried Pierre, smit by this
most piteous tale. "What can be done for her, sweet
Isabel; can Pierre do aught?"32

reveals Pierre's conventional reaction to fornication in which
later'in the novel he himself would like to indulge--incestuously
to boots-and which, suggests not sin but the complex intercon-
nections of all men in the motions of history.

Although any reader can select stylistic atrocities almost
as bad throughout the novel, most of them.aerve the function of
exposure. What seems to have happened is that once caught in the
cadence of artificial dialogue, Melville never’completely freed
himself. However, although the dialogue admittedly is often
pompous and stilted, it must be noted that in scenes in which the

narrator is in dead earnest, truer and more natural diction and

2360'

speech rhythms emerge as the more constant standard of that elu-
sive thing we call style. When the book is read carefully, one
finds that it is really only in the dialogue that stylistic ex-
cesses are jarringly noticeable.

The satiric tone extends beyond the dialogue itself. The
satire includes the entire lyrical quality of the descriptions of
existence in Saddle Meadows. We are as much as told that such
existence may be pure milk and honey, but that it is also a lot
of unreal nonsense, perpetuated for and by blind people and child-
ren. In the narrator's own words, "In a detatched and individual
way, it seemed almost to realize here below the sweet dreams of
those religious enthusiasts, who paint to us a Paradise to come,
when etherealized from all drosses and stains, the holiest passion
of man shall unite all kindreds and climes in one circle of pure
and unimpairable delight."33 After W we know what to expect
of Paradise to come, and when we balance the passage against the
career of Pierre as enthusiast, all the sweetness and delight
crumbles under ridicule. Indeed, the very next sentence points
up the satire by interjecting a neatly counterpointing touch of
reality: "There was one little uncelestial trait...[Pierr§_7 always
had an excellent appetite and especially for his breakfast..."3l+
If we wish to find the satire more subtly, we can recall that
during the idyllic breakfast scenes with his mother, Pierre always
eats tongue; and ironically it is during those scenes that Pierre
can commicate with his mother only in terms of appearances and

that he must remain mute when he would talk about realities. The

237s
interjection of the breakfast epitomizes Melville's constant tech-
nique of juxtaposition. After the lyrical bit of description or
attitudinizing, the narrator usually follows up either by intro-
ducing the markedly "uncelestial” traits, or else he makes a
warning statement which negates the labored lyric and reduces it
to satire so that the total effect of the early books of Pierre
is a constant and heavy sarcasm.

The steady condescension with which the narrator views the
early Pierre as a very, very young and docile boy intensifies the
sarcasm, for in the multiple view, the omniscient narrator's view
of Pierre is never in agreement with the view of the characters
who see the boy. It is not until the last third of Book Two that
I the tone relents at all. And even then, from there until the end
of the novel, the tone seldom entirely loses its edge of distaste
and sarcasm. That there is love for Pierre is true. But I must
insist upon rejecting what many critics find: an identification
between the narrator and Melville on the one hand and Pierre on
the other. In fact, unless we see the tone as almost always
edged with sarcasm, the theme would run directly contrary to the
plot and would break the book into the pointlessness of a thousand
unresolvable portions leading to the final conclusion that the
book should never have been written. Simply and briefly, the tone
always marks and works hard to enable the narrator to show the
reader that Pierre's goal is hopeless, foolish and murderous.

Satire further helps to define character. It prepares for a

rejection of the apparent values of Saddle Meadows and thereby

238-.
sets the value judgments with which the reader evaluates the
leaders of Saddle Meadows life. The descriptions of Mrs. Glendin-
ning supply the reason for satire and rejection; the ethical hier-
archies of Saddle Meadows' values are only apparent.

That Mrs. Glendinning stands for appearance as opposed to
reality is evident in her presentation. She "...had never betray-
ed a single published impropriety..[§he never displayed] one _}c_n_o_w_n_
pang of the heart...With Mrs. Glendinning it was one of those
spontaneous maxims...never to appear in the presence of her son in
any dishabile that was not eminently becoming."35

Mrs. Glendinning, is "...a lady who externally furnished a

 

singular example of the preservative and beautifying influences of
unfluctuating rank, health, and wealth, when joined to a fine mind
of medium culture, uncankered by any inconsolable grief, and never
worn by sordid cares."36 Again we meet the early King Media in
feminine disguise. Her relationship with her son is based upon
appearances and allow for no real conununication of basic human
needs and feelings: "...a reverential and devoted son _s_e_e_n_1_gc_1 lover
enough for this widow...This romantic filial love of Pierre gagged
fully returned by the triumphant maternal pride of the widow, who
in the clear-cut lineaments and noble air of the son, saw her own
graces strangely translated into the opposite sex...There was a
striking personal resemblance between them; and as the mother
519311511 to have long stood still in her beauty, heedless _o_f the
passing ears; so Pierre gagged to meet her halfway...where his

pedestaled mother so long had stood...they were wont to call each

239.
other brother and sister. Both in public and private this was
their usage; nor when thrown among strangers, was this mode of
address ever suspected for a sporthl assumption; since the amar~
anthiness of Mrs. Glendinning fully sustained this youthful.p§9-
37

tension." Herein, at the very opening of the novel, is a coma
plete picture of the Typee Queen. The appearances are fully indi-
cated by the accented seemingness of her false relationship with
her son-awhich also is reflexive to the incest-Enceladus motif as
well as to the final murder of sex, generation, and history in
Pierre's becomdng neuter. Mrs. Glendinning is unconscious of man-
kinds common democracy in the universal capitulation to time, and
she lacks what Media obtained through the canker of grief and
sordid care——a time-wise and consciously informed heart. In this
consideration is the nub of the book's theme. Pierre is Mrs.
Glendinning made male-he.i§ the early King Media. What is it
then, that prevents him from.becoming the complete man? The an-
swer to this question is the "lesson" which.emerges from the
book's theme: whereas Media reimmerses himself in world and soci-
ety in the fight to institute correct human behavior, Pierre im-
merses himself in the chronometrics of the other world and thus

he too becomes suicide and murderer on a vast historical scale.
JMrs. Glendinning, in the apparently unchangeable bloom.of her
wealth, health, and beauty (she is called "this widow Bloom")
cannot admit realization of realities without admitting a changed
view of the world she landlords. Unlike Media, to her the view,
the appearance is all, for to her all phenomena, even her own son,

is but a mirror of herself; to see the mirror smashed would be

240.
the exact equivalent of the impossibility of Hautia's committing
suicide. In this penultimate (penultimate because it is earthly)
hauteur inheres her “amaranthiness," which, when placed in con-
text of the warfare between amaranth and catnip sums her up as
something cold, sterile, and inhuman. As earthly pride, she is as
opposed to the amaranth itself as Hautia is to Yillah, and it is
Mrs. Glendinning, Pierre realizes, who would be the last person to
admit Isabel into the society she governs. Yet in terms of the
effects of her action, she, like Hautia, denies the true genera—
tive and conscious aspects of earth just as much as does her other-
worldly opponent. So again, part of the theme emerges as it did
in Mardi: opposite aspects of existence are united in the very
fact of their existence, in the effects of their actions the con-
sequences of which.become inseperable from the act itself. And
again Melville's basic pragmatism.emerges. We could, if we chose,
try to find this aspect of Melville's thought in the Dutch Reform-
ed Calvinism which accepted Jonathan Edwards, but.I believe that
the stronger argument exists for seeing it as Kelville's own
original metaphysic which informs his democracy. Indeed, in one
of the sharp juxtapositions with which the narrator highlights the
vast difference which underlies the surface resemblance of Pierre
and Mrs. Glendinning, the narrator says:

...I beg you to consider again that this Pierre was but
a youngster as yet. And believe me you will pronounce
Pierre a thoroughegoing Democrat in time; perhaps a
little too Radical altogether to your fancy.

The anti democracy of the narrowhviewed‘Mrs. Glendinning

ZAlq
continues in the imagery which relates her to Queenliness. Even
the land she rules is presented in Queen-imagery. "...But the
country, like any Queen," says the narrator, "is ever attended by
scrupulous lady‘s maids in the guise of the seasons."39 In a
parallel that reemphasizes the guise and appearance of the mother~
son relationship, Pierre attends Queen Glendinning with the super-
ficialities of ribbons and bows, calling himself "First Lady in
waiting to the Dowager Duchess Glendinning."l+O On the one hand,
the Queen imagery fixes Mrs. Glendinning's origins: the words
noble, haughty, aristocratic, privilege of rank, landlord are con-
stantly associated with her so that she becomes delineated as the
traditional and historical force which has always perpetuated
Saddle Meadows life by hereditary and unchanging rule. There is
nothing dual about her origins as there is on the paternal side of
Pierre's ancestry; she is descended on both sides from heroes;
Mrs. Glendinning'was sired and born by Mrs. Glendinning, self-
generating under differing names and appearances throughout the
ages, going back to the beginning of hauteur, so that pride is not
even a matter of choice for Mrs. Glendinning?l And this unchanging
position of Queen of this world is what invests her with the false
appearance and insightlessness and grieflessness of being set apart
from and above the rest of mankind.

0n the other hand, her queenliness and her name-éMarya—places
her squarely in position in the tension of opposing characters.
When talking about Lucy's beauty, the narrator introduces a

brief and heavily satiric section on Queens in general (of course

relating Lucy to the beautiful queens of earth) and in this section

242‘

both Mrs. Glendinning and Pierre's father are simultaneously ex-

”Cede

...A beautiful woman is born Queen of non snd women both,
as Mary Stuart Ins born Queen of Scots, whether men or
women. All unkind are her Scots; her leal clans are
numbered by the nations. A true gentleman in Kentucky
would cheerfully die for a beautiful woman in Hindo-
stun though he never saw her. Yes, count down his heart
in death-drops for her; and go to Pluto, that she might

. go to Paradise. he would turn Turk before he would

disown an allegiance hereditary to oil. gentlemen, from
the hour their Grand Master, Adan, first knelt to Eve.

A plain—faced Queen of Spain dwells not in half
the glory s. beautiful lilliher does. Her soldiers can
break heads, tut her Highness can not crack s heart;
and the beautiful milliner night string hearts for beck-
lsces. Undoubtedly, Beauty made the first Queen. If
ever again the succession to the German Empire should
be contested, and one poor lens lawyer should present
the claims of the first excellingly beautiful woman he
chsnced to see—she would thereupon be unanimously
elected Empress of the Holy Roman Geman Empire; «that
is to ssy, if all the Germans were true, free-hearted
and nsgnsni-ous gentlemen, at all capable of appreciat-
ing so inense an honor.

It is nonsense to talk of France as the seat of all
civility. Did not those French heathen have s Sslique
Law? Three of the lost bewitching creatures ,«i—ortal
flowers of the line of Valoismwere excluded from the
French throne by that infamous provision. France,
indeed! whose Catholic millions still worship Mary Queen
of Heaven, ad for ten generations refused cup and knee
to any angel Marlee, rightful Queens of France. HERE
Is CAUSE FOR UNIVERSAL win.“

This passage, in its tone us well so its contents explodes the ap-

pearances. 'Men will set according to more basic realities of self-

interest or interest of the quest, be they sons and Pierre's or

German politicians. And just so the beautiful Isabel an rejected

and scorned by s hesrtless sorld, so the beautiful and heartless

Mrs. Glendinning is killed by the heartful Pierre when their most

personal goals lie st cross purposes. The Kentucky gentleman,

when the chips are down, bleeds not one drop, but quietly enjoys

 

‘r..

£11.

Illvlrlr ‘I‘Illlllflllll
III

243..
his planter's punch. The last paragraph of this passage, however,
reveals the relationships of Queenly forces in the fundamental and
universal war between homage to otherworld or homage to this world.
The primary competitor of the firm of Mary Glendinning of Saddle
Meadows, Ltd. is the firm of Mary of Heaven, Unltd. Mary Glendin-
ning is "Sister Mary" to Pierre only in terms of the greatest
irony, for the "Brother" will reject the offerings of the first
firm in an enthusiastic attempt to take a seat with the board of
directors of the second, and be a "brother" to Isabel.

In that France is associated with other world, with pursuit
of other-world and homage to otherworld, there is an exposure of
Pierre's father which further reveals the relationship of Pierre's
parents.

Once upon a time Pierre's father loved and pursued the Mary
that was not Glendinning. He was the incipient quester, seeking
values not allowed by the Queens of this world, and the narrator
himself provides the symbolic value of the Frenchmman that was
the father's first love.

Once upon a time, there was a lovely young French-
woman, Pierre. Have you carefully, and analytically,
and psychologically, and metaphysically, considered her

belongings and surroundings, and all her incidentals,
Pierre?43

 

At the time, the father was a man of heart, and as such he masked
his true self from the conventional mrld, even from the uncon-
ventional family member who wished to paint his portrait. He
masked himself from the conventional world with a smile, "the
vehicle of all ambiguities." And of course, Mrs. Glendinning is

unable to tolerate the portrait of that smile because she senses

2L4.
that it reveals at the moment it disguises a man she prefers not
to remember as hgr husband; she senses alien and hostile values in
the portrait, and she will allow it to hang only in the secrecies
of Pierre's closet. At once Pierre becomes universal in history
as the final male member, the inheritor of the paternal origins of
the house of his fathers. The father, however, as the fathers be-
fore him, succumbed to the rule of Queen Glendinning, and under the
impact of time and the impossibility of the early and rebellious
love, yield to the continuing rule of heartless convention. In
the final action which ends the house of Glendinning, Pierre, un—
like his fathers who "returned to earth" by following the wrong
action of surrender, plunges from.earth in the wrong action of
continued quest. And just as Mrs. Glendinning rejects the smiling
chairbportrait, she rejects the son who becomes the summation of
that portrait, as the horologicals always reject the chronometri-
sale.

The chair portrait tries to explain the surrender at the same
time it apologizes for surrender. It tells Pierre that the glimpse
of humanity in rebellion, following the heart, may be the true and
essential reality of human greatness, but it asks forgiveness;
Time, it says, allied with convention (again the pragmatic unity
of opposed forces) makes men knuckle under at last because weak-
ness is also an essential truth of humanity:

Pierre, believe not the drawing-room.painting; that is
not thy father; or, at least is not all of thy father

...In mature life, the world overlays and varnishes us,
Pierre; the thousand proprieties and polished finesses

and grmmaces intervene, Pierre; then, we, as it were,
abdicate ourselves, and take unto us another self Pierre;

245a
In youth.we.a§g, Pierre, but in age we seem. Look again.
I am thy real father, so much more the truly, as thou
thinkest thou recognizest me not, Pierre.
Pierre comes to understand the weakness of humanity, while refus-
ing to forgive it, and while applying his own great strength in
the wrong pursuits. 'Hhen Pierre makes his final rejection of Mrs.
Glendinning, he turns in fury on the portrait whose living self
had been the cause of Pierre's sudden realization that "the time
is out of joint; -—Oh cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it
rightl”h5 At the moment he burns the portrait, he commits himself
to a rejection of humanity past (the father) and present (the
mother), and.the father's sight of history is horrified by seeing
Pierre embark upon a course which can only result in suicide and
murder. The appeal, the apology of the father shines out one last
time as Pierre places the picture in the flames; symbolically, as
Pierre commits his own human heritage to the hell fires of his
heart which now hungers fer more ardent fires.
Steadfastly Pierre watched the first crispings and black-
enings of the painted scroll, but started, as suddenly
unwinding from.the burnt string that had tied it, for one
swift instant, seen through the flame and smoke, the up—
writhing portrait tormentedly stared at him in beseech-
ing horror, and then wrappe on one broad sheet of oily
fire, disappeared forever.
Because of his initial sin, the surrender to convention, it is too
late for the father to prevent the visitation of incremental sin
upon the son. At the same time, from Pierre's side of the multi-
ple view of the historical tableau, the scene is already viewed
“through the flame and smoke," and once committed to the mania of

his predisposition and rejection of humanity, it is also too late

21.6..
for Pierre:
Yielding to a sudden ungovernable impulse, Pierre
darted his hand among the flames, to rescue the implore
ing face; but as swiftly drew back his scorched and
bootless grasp.
The scorched and bootless grasp is the evident objective correla-
tive for Pierre's entire plight. Once he enters the hell of his
own now Satanic (Satanic because it is Godlike) heart, he cannot
come back out through the archway over which stands the inscription

Through me you pass into the city of Wee;

Through me you pass into eternal pain;

Through me, among the people lost for aye.

All hope abandon, ye who enter herej‘8
And here, he abandons world for otherworld, only to find that the
choice upon which he gambles all, the choice which is irrevocable,
is a loser: the otherworld fer which he abandons all is a nothing,
a silence, a zero. This is his grief that is woe, his woe that is
madness, the fine hammered steel of woe which discovers that God
and Satan (or all of history) areonly Man in his unified.and oppo—
sing aspects, that the traditional God and the traditional Satan
are nonexistent on the cosmic scale and that good and evil, birth
and death are but the unified and opposed aspects of Time whidh in
itself is again nothing and silence. Melville's quarrel properly
is not with God, but with man.

The relationship of the Mrs. Glendinnings and the fathers

makes the plot inevitable by allowing Pierre only a one direction-
al thrust through the mask. For the conventional world allows the

quester an eitherhor choice of rejection or submission. The

transformation of the father from chair portrait to drawing room

 

 

247..
portrait is all Mrs. Glendinning's doing. That portrait was made
"during the best and rosiest days of their wedded union; at the
particular desire of my mother; and by a celebrated artist of her
own election, and costumed after her own taste...as he had really
appeared to her, " Pierre muses. If there is a villain of the
piece, it is Mrs. Glendinning, not Pierre or God. For God cannot
help being a nothing and Pierre cannot help having a full heart
Which predisposes him to search for other values than those of the
drawing room portrait. In not allowing change, in not admitting
realities, the conventional world forces the quester to seek a
direction for his activities which point away from the hostility
of world. At the moment Pierre challenges his mother on the basis
of appearance versus reality ("You are too proud to show toward me
What you are this moment feeling, my mother."), Mrs. Glendinning
Saws, "Beware of me, Pierre. There lives not that being in the I
World of whom thou hast more reason to beware, so you continue but
a. little longer to act thus with men'l‘9 The haughty strength of
the conventional mrld acts toward Pierre as it had toward the
fathers, again making Pierre a universal in time.

Pierre's great-grandfather was also once a rebel and a fight-
' er. He led’the fight against. man's primitive heritage, against
the wilderness Typee dwellers who are translated into the American
Setting of the novel as the Indian. On behalf of western man, the
great-grandfather made inroads of consciousness against those
primeval children of the earth. But Pierre's great-grandfather

Was unhorsed in the struggle just as Pierre will be.

248.

On the meadows which sloped away from the shaded rear of
the manorial mansion, far to the winding river, an Indian
battle had been fought, in the earlier days of the colony,
and in that battle the paternal great-grandfather of
Pierre, mortally wounded, had sat unhorsed on his saddle
in the grass, with his dying voice, still cheering his
men in the fray.
But by the time we come to Pierre's grandfather, another rebel and
fighter, we discover that the great-grandfather had simply defeated
the Typee with which Melville's first book familiarized us in order
to make way for the stronger western Typee ruled by Mrs. Glendin-
ning. His taking the land became not an act of liberation, but of
expropriation, for the very deeds to the land itself, "those deeds,
as before hinted, did indeed date back to three kings—Indian
kings—only so much the finer for that."51 The battle loses its
appearance of the struggle for consciousness and becomes reduced to
the spoilation of earth in the conflict of cultures as seen in
1122..

The grandfather in turn rebels against the colonization of
Britain.‘ The mansion is full of mementos of the grandfather's
victory in his rebellion against a traditional rule. Yet the
grandfather too makes no new synthesis of human society, but re-
turns to his own kind of convention, acceptance of the rule of the
Mrs. Glendinnings. The fight has been meaningless and the revo-
lution lost ip the counterrevolution. Pierre's "grandfather had
for several months defended a rude but all-important stockaded,
fort, against the repeated combined assaults of Indians, Tories,

and Regulars. From before that fort, the gentlemanly, but murderous

249.
half-breed, Brant, had fled, but had survived to dine with General
Glendinning, in the amicable times which followed that vindictive
war."52 After the war, the- grandfather becomes an archetypal pic—
ture 'of the polite and benevolent aristocrat in his own turn:

...in a night-scuffle in the wilderness before the Revo-
lutionary War, he had annihilated two Indian savages by
making reciprocal bludgeons of their heads. And all this
was done by the mildest hearted, and most blue-eyed
.~'gentleman in the world, who, according to the patriarchal
fashion of those days, was a gentle, white-haired wor-
shiper of all the household gods; the gentlest husband,
and the gentlest father; the kindest of masters to his
slaves; of the most wonderful unruffledness of temper;
a serene smoker of his after-dinner pipe; a forgiver of
many injuries; a sweet-hearted, charitable Christian; '
in fine, a pure, cheerful, childlike, blue-eyed, divine
old man; in whose meek, majestic soul the lion and the
lamb embraced—fit image of his God.53
Chapters could be spent on the ironies and double meanings in this
passage alone, but for the moment we can leave it with the re-
flection that unmarked by any woe of madness in all his experience,
the grandfather also fights the vain fight. The banners and drums
and batons he captured become ornaments in the household of Mrs.
Glendinning, who made the father a colony in his turn, and who at-
tempts to keep the son as another colony in her British rule of
conventionality. So just as the rebels, great-grandfathers, grand-
fathers, fathers all become monents of Typee, they hand down the
double heritage of Titanism and submission to the son.
The unhorsing image helps to relate the fight against Time
to the fight against convention. The act of rebellion is the same
in both instances. Pierre, when considering the consequences of

his choice between Lucy and God, invoked the widsom of the Terror

\ Stone. "If the miseries of the undisclosable things in me shall

250.

ever unhorse me from my manhood's seat...then do thou, Mute

51+

Massiveness, fall on me.“ Pierre is, of course, unhorsed from

his manhood's seat. And at the same time he snatches the reins
from Mrs. Glendinning's hands and ceases to be a trained horse him-
self. In one highly revealing and adumbrative speech, Mrs. Glen-
dinning reveals her view of Pierre and he emerges as a picture of
a splendidly trained and magnificent horse. The animal imagery of
the Typeean and the mindless soldier is recalled all over again.

"A noble boy, and docile"--she nmrnmred—"he has all
the frolicsomeness of youth, with little of its giddi-
ness. And he does not grow vain-glorious in sophomorean
wisdom. I thank heaven I sent him not to college. A
noble boy, and docile. A fine, proud, loving. docile,
vigorous boy. Pray God he never becomes otherwise to me.
His little wife that is to be, will not estrange him
from me; for she too is dociel,--beautiful and reveren-
tial, and most docile. Seldom yet have I known such
blue eyes as hers, that were not docile, and would not
follow a bold black one, as two meek, blue-ribboned ewes
follow their martial leader. How glad am I that Pierre
loves her so,'and not some dark-eyed haughtiness, with
whom I could never live in peace; but who would ever be
setting her young married state before KW elderly
widowed one, and claiming all the homage of my dear
boy—the fine, proud, loving, docile, vigorous boy!—
the lofty-minded, well-born, noble boy; and with such
sweet docilitiesl See his hair! He does in truth
illustrate that fine saying of his father's, that as the
noblest colts, in three points-abundant hair, swelling
chest, and sweet docilitywshould resemble a fine woman,
so should a noble youth."55

And the lack of essential humanity in Mrs. Glendinning's ideal
description almost does characterize the early Pierre who, as a
noble colt is in the same relation to the noble name of Glendinning
that his own noble colts are to him. When he sees the clothes and
trophies and pictures of his sires, his feelings are mingled pride

and inferiority, and the haughty hope that some day he too may

251'.
measure up to the great Typee masters of the generations. See how
perfectly the colts parallel Pierre's relationship with his mother.

They well knew that they were but an inferior and sub-
ordinate branch of the Glendinnings, bound in perpetual
feudal fealty to its headmost representative. Therefore
. these young cousins never permitted themselves to run
from Pierre; they wegg impatient in their paces, but very
patient in the halt.
Lucy and Pierre go riding in the huge old phaeton that symbolizes
the great girth—in every sense—- of the grandfather's past genera-
tion. And, "Though the vehicle was a sexagenarian, the animals
that drew it were but six year old colts."57 The son, the new, as
yet unconscious generation draws the burden of the heritage of the
generations. Pierre is collared and saddled in Saddle Meadows.
He is horse and is horsed. He is both the well trained and docile
colt and at the same time the young new commander of the Typee
world-wand will remain horsed as long as he remains horse. When
Pierre puts his colts through their paces, showing their obedience
by crawling between their legs, he is rewarded by foam-flake epau-
lets, himself being made general like the grandfather before him,
through approbation of the horse-citizens of Saddle Meadows. He is
at once an obedient animal himself, showing himself off as well
trained, and he is himself a Mrs. Glendinning, showing off the
obedience, lealty, and docility of his subjects. The generations
lead him on as both horse and master in their double heritage.
Pierre feels the attachment between his own slave-master position
and that double heritage. He himself but follows in their foot-
steps, and Pierre's pride wheels to new heights. "How proud felt

Pierre: in fancy's eye, he saw the horse-ghosts a-tandem in the

252.

van. 'These are but wheelers'-—cried the young Pierre-- 'the
leaders are the generations.'"58 And it is perhaps here that Mel-
Ville's satirical irony reaches its height in the lyrical early
books of 21.313. The tableau epitomizes the theme emerging from
the origins-motif: man's moral responsibility for man past, present
and future. On and on it goes in incremental spiral, the genera-
tions past leading on the generations future, harnessed and col-
lared, head to buttock, drawing the horseslave-humanmaster Queens
and colonies of the Saddle Meadows world.

But the young Pierre, as yet untouched by woe, is blind to
the real essence of his burden. Drawing the burden of Typee is
pleasant indeed, as long as that is the only burden in life.
"Well, life's a burden, they say; why not be burdened cheerily?"
asks Pierre. The horse imagery continues as Pierre, laden like a
horse, “laden with shawls, parasole, reticule, and a small hamper,"
sees his burden simply in terms of appearances. "But look, ye,
Lucy, I am going to enter a formal declaration and protest before
matters go further with us. When we are married, I am not to
carry any bundles, unless in case of real need; and what is more,
when there are any of your young lady acquaintances in sight, I
am not to be unnecessarily called upon to back up, and load for
their particular edification."

"Now I am really vexed with you, Pierre; that is thefirst
ill-natured innuendo I e ver heard from you. Are there any of my
young lady acquaintances in sight now, I should like to know?" '

"Six of them, right over the way," said Pierre; "but they

253.
keep behind the curtains. I never trust your solitary village
streets, Lucy. Sharp-shooters behind every clapeboard, Lucy."59

When Pierre is unhorsed and ceases to be horseaman, he also
is unhorsed in the withdrawal of support by the horselike and
heartless world of the very appearances by which the early Pierre
lives. When he journeys to the city, his first difficulty is with
a horse-cabby, and the horse-driver is not only insolent but re-
fuses to obey Pierre's will. Pierre even has difficulty in find-
ing a cab with which to make his necessary arrangements. Again,
Pierre is caught in the hostility of worlds which, as a theme was

first set up in the early Type .

III

When we follow Pierre's career, our first introduction to him
discloses why this enthusiast-rebel in his emotionally and intel—
lectually young age does not invoke the hostility of Typee. ‘Hhen
we first see him."issuing from.the embowered and highegabled old
home of his fathers," he is "dewily refreshed and spiritualized by
sleep," and "half-unconsciously" he wends his gay way to Lucy.
The countryside is also one "verdant trance“ and even "the brindlgi
kine'zarg7 dreamily wandering.“60 Yet before Pierre can do much
more than show that he is at this point a perfect member of the
animal-body-sleep-unconsciousness team, such as we have met in the
Typees, and Samoas the_Upoluans and in the gallant hams of West-
phalia he reveals himSelf as a potential quester, one who has
within him the predisposition which dictates his actions. At the

same time he is placed in relationship to a God whose very answer

2.51..
to prayer is a swindle.

"Oh, had my father but had a daughter!" cried
Pierre; "some one whom.l might love, and protect, and
fight for, if need be. It must be a glorious thing to
engage in a mortal guarrel on a sweet sister's behalf!
Now of all things, would,tg heaven, I had a sister!"

Thus, ere entranced in the gentler bonds of a lover;
thus often would Pierre invoke heaven for a sister; but
Pierre did not then know, that if there be any thing a
man might well pray against, that thing is the responsive
gratification of some of the devotedest prayers of his
youth. 1

 

And again:

But his profound curiosity and interest in the matter-
strange as it may seems-did not so much appear to be
embodied in the mournful person of the olive girl, as by
some radiations from her, embodied in the vague conceits
which agitated his own soul. There, lurked the subtler
secret: that, Pierre had striven to tear away. From.with—
out, no wonderful effect is wrought within ourselves,
unless some interior, responding wonder meets it. 2

Pierre is an idealist, whose inner view of absolute should-he's

 

has never come up against the woe which will make him see exterior
realities are not the should be's. While blind to woe, time, and
reality, he fully believes that the circumstances of his life, his
history, and the external world are not mere appearances, that they
are realities which are not only in accord with the absolute ide-
alities but which prove them by the very fact of existence. And it
is for this reason that he is a perfect, conforming representative
of Typee. The predisposition of his very enthusiastic idealism
marks him as animal-man, only in appearance, only while be be-
lieves and conforms to appearances. Rather he is the man of heart
and consciousness who as yet has experienced no reason to realize
that the idealistic dictates of his heart and consciousness run

counter to the dictates of the world. And therefore the early

255.,
Pierre himself is an appearance rather than a reality, for it is
not true that he has neither heart nor brain; there simply was no
reason for their activation. In fact, his entire being is dir-
ected by his pride in his origins. For him, mankind never fell
from grace, there was no Adam, or in more Melvillean terms, man
had never played his own Satan to his own God. His father, for
him, is at once a combination of God the Father (a smiling and
benign One), the prelapsarian Adam, and in his purity and con-
tinuance of mankind's redemption into goodness and summer mornings,
he is also Christ. Pierre simply has never read history and it is
impossible for him to conceive of the heritage of history as a
heritage of error and sin. When he discovers that his father him-
self had not lived up to the smiling appearances of world and
history then the very cornerstone of the shrine to appearances
built in Pierre's heart crumbles and the whole ediface topples
into the dust of a total cosmas out of joint, inverted in world
and in time. But Pierre has already established himself as an
enthusiast and idealist. When Truth rolls black billows in his
soul, he will not deny truth-cannot by the very definition of his
being. He has to cast off everything as a lie, has to abandon the
appearance of all phenomena as a guidepost to action and find the
true motivating force for life and history. In short, he has to
find God in order to be faithful to truth and the absolutes within
him. And once Pierre places himself in this position, he is off
on the old familiar chase, and once again the problem is not in

defining the quester, but in defining God.

256.

Immediately Pierre is caught in the dilemma of the quester.
He abandons humanity and earth for God; this would be no dilemma
if the leaving were also a coming, but there is no God or heaven
to welcome the searching wanderer. But this is the conclusion.
First we see that in the very instrument with which he must search,
the quester is foredoomed: he can only search with the being that
is natural man, and natural man cannot reach an ideal with non-
ideal weapons-othe ultimate irony of course is that there are no
ideal weapons for:man can not be anything else but man. The down-
fall of early American Puritanism gave enough of a historical pre-
cedent for the conclusion, but Melville the artist had to take the
facts of raw history and schematize and thematize them, give them
form, so that the meanings of those facts resolve into a guide
whereby humanity can take its bearings. For instance, when Pierre
burns his father's chair portrait, he says, "...so, so—lower,
lower, lower; now all is done, and all is ashes! Henceforth, cast—
out Pierre hath.no paternity, and no past; and since the Egtg£§.i§
9513 blank to all; therefore, twice-disinherited Pierre stands un—
trammeldly his everbpresent self! -free to do his own self-will
and present fancy to whatever end!"63 The "twice-disinherited
Pierre" is to be the Pierre disinherited by heaven because it is
not, as well as by the world that is.

He casts himself out, rejecting humanity and history in the
one moment of casting himself adrift from the motherhship of earth
and society. This act of second hand murder, reaching backward

through the generations is, as Taji has shown, an inconclusive

25?...
thing. The slate cannot be wiped clean in this way. Paradoxi-
cally, the feverish desire to embrace absolute truth makes the
quester deceive himself by not reckoning with the truth of history
at the moment he recognizes it. Because of the casting adrift
which allows the ascension to the throne of self will, the only
act which fellows can be abdication-—neither world nor time will
be denied. Pierre falls into this trap as would be expected. For
him the question is not, Hflhgt must I do?...such question never
presented itself to Pierre; the spontaneous responsiveness of his
being left no shadow of dubiousness as to the direct point he must
aim at. But if the object was plain, not so the path to it. .393
must I do it? was a problem for which at first there seemed no
chance of solution. But without being entirely aware of it himr
self, Pierre was one of those spirits, which.not in a determinate
and sordid scrutiny of small pros and cons-—but in an impulsive
subservience to the god-like dictation of events themselves, find
at length the surest solution of perplexities, and the brightest

61;

prerogative of command." There is at once the parallel to Tommo
and Taji, the planning and scheming fer withdrawal from.the world,
along with the consequent stealing-—the taking of his belongings
from the ancestral house from which he was already banished. So
too this selection reveals the lie of independent self-will: the
quester in his act of assertion, idealism, independence paves the
path for this act with sustenance taken from.the very world of
humanity he rejects. The idealist is forced to non—ideal means of

pursuit. In this case, the very Pierre who rejects history and

258‘...
burns it in the fires of his idealism, becomes the most helpless
pawn in the enthusiast's surrenderto the river of events which
flows not to the brightest prerogative of command but to the ulti—
mate unmanning of the self-deluded "commander.“ Heros and Hero
worship simply were not for Melville, for the flow of time always
proves greater than the individual in all the novels.65 And in
comparison with Captain Vere, who does weigh consequences and
goals before he acts, this passage highlights an "ambiguity" that
is central to Melville's theme: the man who bows to Time and re-
mains in the world in recognition of events is the only man who
can attempt to manipulate futurities by carefully weighed action
in the present; the man who leaps to command in an attempt to
pierce Time, who believes himself superior to events, is unkinged,
uncaptained, unmanned, unhorsed and has no command.

The now familiar motifs of murder and theft and deceit carry
through in 31-2529. again. Pierre's preparations for withdrawal are
accompanied by deceit not only to self but to world. He lies to
Mrs. Glendinning about Isabel three times. He lies to Lucy. And
he lies to himself and Isabel by pretending that he, a terrestrial
inland being, can enter a relationship that will be governed by
non-terrestrial, sea-like absolutes. Melville's irony is height-
ened by his own italics when he foreshadows the very blindness and
lack of erqaerience with which the youthful Pierre undertakes a
task which is too much even for the Captain Ahabs: "...do not
blame me if I here make repetition, and do verbally quote my own

mrds in saying that _:_i._t_ had been the choice fate _o_f Pierre :03 have

259:

been born and bred ig the country."66 The rest of the section

 

fram which this quote is taken is a continuation of satire and
warning, but this one italicized clause is most germane to the
attitude of the narrator who hoots and laughs and even sorrows a
bit over this rash boy, Pierre. This very narrator states the
basis of Pierre's unforgivable sin when he says of Pierre in his
inversion of worlds:

Thus, in the Enthusiast to Duty, the heaven-begot-
ten Christ is born; and will not own a mortal parent,
and spurns and rends all mortal bonds.67

The association of Pierre and Christ continues the heritage of the
generation. Pierre's FatherhGod is one of duplicity, but only
because in terms of what the world believes, he does not exist at
all. Pierre himself now becomes at once the fallen Adam.and the
Christ, who, as he writes his novel would expose the lies of the
world to mankind and would thus redeem man from.appearances. But
again the human heritage of the father is the only real heritage:
Pierre is human, and as he undergoes crucifixion by the world he
changes from lover to hater, frem redeemer to murderer. 'In
Pierre's own career is the working out of Plinlimmon's thesis: the
heavenly Christ is the killer of the race because he espouses imp
possibilities by which man cannot live. The quester rejects the
false appearances of human life and, as a false corollary, rejects
humanity. He turns to the otherworld for absolutes by which to
know and live—he must strike through the mask. But because the
otherworld to which he turns is but the product of human illusion,

he lives the greatest irony: rebuffed in both worlds he becomes

not the optimistic confidence man but the diabolized confidence
man whose confidence in the existence of an attainable ultimate
may be merely the last illusion of hatred rather than reverence.
It is the old idea that Satan is the devoutest believer in God.
As with Taji, we find within Pierre himself the tension which is
externalized in the dualities of Isabel and Lucy, Isabel and Mrs.
Glendinning. In theme as well as in symbol, Pierre is truly the
central character, universal mankind in whose mind and heart the
"universal war" of heaven and earth is fought throughout history.
In Pierre's apostrophe to the God which is not there, the entire
theme and plot are laid bare:

Buide me, gird me, guard me, this day, ye sovereign
powers's! Bind me in bonds I cannot break; remove all
sinister allurings from me; eternally this day deface in
me the detested and distorted images of the convenient
lies and duty-subterfuges of the diving and ducking
moralities of this earth. Fill me with consuming fire
for them; to my life's muzzle cram.me with your own in-
tent. Let no world-siren come to sing to me this day,
and wheedle from.me my undauntedness. I cast my eternal
die this day, ye powers. On.my strong faith in ye in-
visibles, I stake three whole felicities, and three
whole lives this day. If ye forsake me now,-farewell
to Faith, farewell to Truth, farewell to God; exiled for
aye from.God and man, I shall declare myself an equal
power with both; free to make war on Night and Day, and
all thoughts and things of mind and mattegé which the
upper and the nether firmaments do clasp!

Every sentence of this apostrophe holds a novel-full of meaning.
In the imagery alone there is the recreation of Melville's major
characters even to the upperbnether soaring-sinking duality of
Babbalanja and Yoomy. And so Pierre too, by soaring to heaven
finds hell and by plunging into hell finds heaven. And by finding

they are one and the same, sees the creating killing of Time which

261.,
is itself the Godphero. And thus the woe. For the man who realé
izes he has abandoned all for a nothing, the woe becomes murderous
and suicidal madness. The important thing here is that Pierre,
more than Ahab or Taji, has some insight into the possibility that
there is nothing to strike to through the pasteboard masks. And
when Pierre realizes that the quest is a futility and that there
is no quest (Taji and Ahab were dead.before the realization could
come with certainty) he realizes that he is indeed twice disin—
herited and exiled for aye and that furthermore he is not an equal
power with both earth and heaven but that he is shorn of all power.
The further extension of‘Pigrrg is that the hero survives to be his
own commentator, as if in this book Melville wished to take no
chances of leaving his theme unclinched. Pierre has not warred
with the diving and ducking moralities of this world in the proper
or effective Media-manners he cannot return to humanity. Lucy,
who would return him, is the good angel who is committed to the
impossible task: she cannot return the Christ-Satan down to humani-
ty any more than Pierre can vault man up to heaven. For Pierre
the salvation of human love she Offers is now'unobtainable: "Dead
embers of departed fires lie by thee, thou pale girl; with dead
embers thou seekest to relume the flame of all extinguished lovelé9
And in his final malediction upon Lucy and Isabel, he announces to
the reader that he finally'understands the idiocy of his carreer:
"the fool of Truth, the fool of Virtue, the fbol of Fate, now’
quite ye forever!"7O When Lucy and Isabel visit him after the

actual murder which is the logical extension of his gamble, he

262-.
places himself precisely in his point of balanced disinheritance
from.man and God; he himself is now only the neuterbhero fulcrmm
that balances the Terror Stone. Isabel, who would lure him.to God
becomes the bad angel, the Satan in man. Lost to the world that
is and the world that isn't, Pierre's only choice is extinction.
"Away!--Good Angel and Bad Angel both!-For Pierre is neuter'now!"
But the final statement and the final irony is not yet. Pierre's
heart like Taji's, hardens to stone when broiled in the hellfires
of his own idealism.and the scorn of the world. His consciousness
is made a blank, fer'the goal toward which it strove is itself a
blank, like the Future that Pierre would master. In his total loss
of humanity he is made a stonelike neuter by the "French“ heritage
of the fathers. (Is it too Obvious to point but again that the
French for stone is pierre?) In the rejection of the ducking and
diving moralities of earth is the realization that man jails hims
self with delusion. At the moment of insight into the conventional
appearances of his mother and her world, Pierre cries, "0h, men
are jailers all; jailers.of themselves; and in Opinion's world
ignorantly hold their noblest part a captive to their vilest...The
heart! the heart! 'tis God's annointed; let me pursue the heart!22
And he proceeds to jail himself to death. For just as Pierre kills
himself with a different kind of delusion, he is jailed.by the world
which.cannot admit the reasons for his world-rejection. Lucy, when
she reappears, senses that Pierre is more than terrestrial man: she
makes the mistake of trying to make earth a place for Christ. Be-

cause she does not yet see the meaning of Christ and God, she, on

263.
a lower'level than Pierre, commits Pierre's basic sins all over
again. When, in Pierre's word "brother" uttered to Isabel, Lucy
realizes that he has been living a lie himself, (just as was
Pierre's father before him) making her own sacrifice the meaning-
less action of another fool of virtue, she also dies. The final
stone-qualities of Pierre kill her. On an allegorical level, she
is the good angel of earth; insofar as she would become another
Pierre, acting toward him as he had acted toward Isabel, she, on a
subtler symbolic level, becomes bad angel too. In toto, Pierre
the stone kills earth and quester when he kills Lucy. Isabel on an
allegorical level is the bad angel of otherbworldliness. Insofar
- as she activates Pierre's heart and consciousness, she is the good
angel. Thematically, the "Good Angel and BadAngel both" refers to
each of the girls as it does to them together. Again, at the con-
clusion, Melville wraps up all the ambiguous dualities in one
magnificent unity. And Pierre kills Isabel just as Isabel kills
him. In toto, Pierre the stone kills man and quester when he kills
Isabel. And when we reconsider Pierre as the embodiment of all the
external tensions, we see that he again performs the double murder
of man and quester when he commits suicide. Now, at this point,
when visitors come to the jail to find Pierre and Lucy, the jailer
hadmits them both at once, and as he throws open the door, he makes
a remark which reaches far from the literal level of his conversa-
tion with two peripheral characters. In the heartbreaking irony
that it is 3.1Eil23 who says it and that he is totally blind to

the referents of his words, plot meets theme at the one point

264.
where the action is symbolized in seven wards of dialogue:"'Kill
'em both with one stone, then,’ wheezed the turnkey gratingly throw-
ing open the door of the cell.“73 The structure of the plot be-

comes the structure of the theme; the structure of the whole book.

becomes the structure of the Terror Stone.

IV

W is a more hopeless book than is flargi. For there is
no informed, heartful Media left to fight Mrs. Glendinning on earth
with human weapons. Charlie Millthorpe is a good and heartful man,
but he is an unconscious child. He has not earned the right to
sum up Pierre in a final statement, and as he bends over Pierre
saying, "Oh, I would have rallied thee, and banteringly warned thee
from thy too moody ways, but thou wouldst never heed!" Melville
makes up for what could have been an all-defeating thematic error
(as it is, this reintroduction of Millthorpe is no more than an-
other stylistic atrocity) by having Isabel repudiate Millthorpe:
"All's o'er, and ye know him not!" No indeed. The apostles them-
selves, when men of little faith, were asked by Christ "Know ye not
me?" How utterly impossible for the Apostle, Charlie Millthorpe
(he is to Mrs. Glendinning what Jarl was to Hautia) to recognize
the real aspects of the murderer-Christ Pierre or that other mur-
derer-Christ Plinlimmon. At this point one might demand that we
settle this "Christ business" once and for all. Just who is Christ,
just how consistently is he presented? Simply, Christ is all the
characters except those of the "banded world." At one point or

another, Lucy, Isabel, Pierre, the father, Plinlimmon all act or

265.
think in terms of otherworldm-becom questers of the active or in-
active, articulate or inarticulate, heartfull or heartless,
Apostle-leading or non—Apostle-leading kind. The repeated mentions
of Christ place hdm.as the archetypal, human quester. His equation,
at one point or another, with the different characters are the
dualities, the fragmented ambiguities which become the unity of
the total-Christ character. This character can be summed up as
one who has the highest moral and ethical perception (the true and
earthly "divinity" or "God" in man-the good angel) but who centers
these perceptions upon otherworldly origins rather than in the
true origins of the history of mortality (the Titan, the Satan in
man-~the bad angel). Because he misdirects (bad, chronometrical-
lyebased) his perceptions (good, horologically originated) he
1. directs humanity to its murder and tot;he murder of his peru
ceptions, or 2. fails to communicate the social realities he sees,
80 that a false picture of him is made by the world, and he is
associated with the false view of otherworld which he himself
directed. In either case, the wrong aspect of the Christ is what
the Christ leaves to men. The right aspect could be the heritage
only if the banded world changed its appearance-deluded concept of
Christ. 30 in all events, the action must be earthly, not heaven—
ly. In 32.3513, Melville does not make the mistake he made in
(figggi. In the earlier book, an unemphasized.Media really became
the thematic hero of the story. In Pierre there is no sudden and
mechanical development of a character who will carry the informa-

tion of Pierre's career into social action. In its greater

266.
artistic purity, Pigggg inevitably is fUrther than Eardi from.fit-
ting the demands of real tragedy. The integrity of this book re—
mains intact: "...from the fingers of Isabel dropped an empty vial
-as it had been a run—out sand-glass-and shivered upon the floor;
and her whole form.sloped sideways, and she fell upon Pierre's
heart, and her long hair ran over him, and arbored him in ebon
vines."7h Pierre's time-glass had run out and time conquers.
Isabel claims Pierre's heart, but there is nothing left to claim.
All that remains is the dark covering of the lure which points to

God. The end is silence and stone.

V

The silence and sadness of heaven characterize the person who
leads Pierre to the quester's doom. The pine tree which is Isabers
introductory symbol presents her primary qualities; "...while both
trees are proverbially trees of sadness, yet the dark hemlock hath
no mmsic in its thoughtful boughs; but the gentle pine-tree drOps
melodious mournfUlness." And as Pierre sits at the tree's "halfe
bared roots of sadness," he says, "HOW'Wide, how strong these roots
must spread! Sure, this pine-tree takes powerful holdof this fair
earth) Yon bright flower hath.not so deep a root. This tree hath
outlived a century of that gay flower's generations, and will out-
live a century of them.yet to come."75 The thing which has its
roots in earth (just as Isabel has her human origins) and which
echoes the mournful melodies of God (just as Isabel's songs echo
the aches of her heavenly mother's guitar) is the aspiring heaven

assaulting divine in man, the conscious mournfulness of woe, and

2267.
as such it has its deepest roots in the earthly, human histories of
man's development. (The tree introduces sadness to Pierre, and makes
him think of woe: "Yet I have never known thee,‘ Grief...but thou,
Grief! art still a ghost story to me," says Pierre to the tree.) It
is stronger than the as—yet unconsciousness of that bright flower,
Lucy, and woe outlives generations of appearances. And so Isabel,
the exact duplicate of Yillah in inverted coloring, also has strong-
est roots in earth, but the memories of origins are made otherworld-
ly. Therefore, while this malleable and unconscious ideal wishes to
enter the world, at the same time it believes the heavenly appearances
of its true history and has its strongest urges to leave the world.
In concrete terms, Isabel is then related to the earthly-otherworldly
aspects of mournful, Godlike tree. Pierre continues, ”...the wind,
--that is God's breath! Is He so sad? 0h, tree! so mighty thou, so
lofty, yet so mournfull ...Harkl as I look up into thy high se-
crecies, oh, tree, the face, the face, peeps down on me! --'Art thou
Pierre? Come to me'-—oh, thou mysterious girl...What, _w_h_g, art thou?
0h! wretched vagueness—too familiar to me, yet inexplicable—unknown,
utterly unknown! I seem to founder in this perplexity."76 Here agah
is the tantalizing familiarity in which Yillah's Taji foundered;
again the lure and the answering predisposition. And behind the
lure are the attributes of God, is God himself. Yet Pierre, who
is as yet unconscious and cannot fathom the identity of the mys-
terious beckonings, senses the ultimate consequences of his answer-

ing the call. The tems the narrator uses in Pierre's apostrophe

268.

to the tree are all reflexive to the stone imagery, the fire ima
agery of Pierre's doom. "Hark, now I hear the pyramidical and
numberless, flame-like complainings of this Eolian pine..."77 And
when Pierre begs God fer the meaning of the mysterious Isabel, he
sums up unconsciously the result of his Enceladus-attempt to storm
heaven for the absolutes that following Isabel and the heart
demands.
Now, never into the soul of Pierre, stole there before,
a muffledness thike this! If aught really lurks in it,
ye sovereign powers that claim.all my leal worshippings,
I conjure ye to lift the veil; I must see it face to
face. Tread I on a mine, warn me; advance I on a prec-
ipice, hold me back; but abandon me to an unknown misery,
that it shall suddenly seize me and possess me, wholly,
-—that ye will never do; else Pierre's fond faith in
ye—-now clean, untouched-may clean depart; and give me
up to be a railing atheist...deprived of joy, I feel I
should find cause for deadly feuds with things invisi—
b18078
Pierre's temporary reversion to Typee is understandable. As yet
Isabel offers but presentiments. There is yet no experience which
will verify the presentiment into a view of inverse reality. "Now,
then, I'll up with.my own joyful will; and with my joy's face scare
away all phantoms: —-so, they go; and Pierre is Joy's and Life's
again. Thou pine-tree!-henceforth I will resist thy too treacher—
ous persuasiveness. Thoul't not so often woo me to thy airy tent,

79

to ponder on the gloomy rooted stakes that bind it." But once
the touch of God is made actual, once the letter is received, in
one stroke, Joy becomes meaningless and the entire structured
world of appearances collapses. Pierre needs no more verification

of the letter than Hamlet needs of the ghost's words. At Isabel's

beckoning, Pierre is off on the quest for the most illusory

269.
appearance of all, and in the familiar irony is the entire story
of Pierre at the first introduction of Isabel, just as there was
the entire story of Taji at the first introduction of Yillah. The
repetition here discloses the manner whereby Melville prepares for
the doom.of the quester. In all cases-eflgbyagigk also has its
share of omens and portents-the introduction of the lure is ac-
companied by reflexive language and a statement by the quester in
which,at the same moment,the relationship of quester and lure is
established and the doom of the quester is incorporated in symbolic
language which afterwards becomes established in incident.

Isabel's characteristics are a repetition of Yillah's in every
way. Isabel too is malleable, shaped by the will and purpose of
the quester. Again and again Isabel tells Pierre that he forms
her moods and molds her ideas, and again we See the informing ideal
itself amorphous without the concrete facts of experience to acti-
vate it.

"Thy hand is the caster's ladle, Pierre, which holds me
entirely fluid. Into thy forms and slightest moods of
thought, thou pourest me; and I there solidify to that
form, and take it on, and thenceforth wear it, till once
more thou moldest me anew. If what thou tellest me be
thy thouggt, then how can I help its being mine, my
Pierre?"
Once the shape and activation have been found in the being of the
quester, the lure really has no further'function. Yillah could
disappearh-had to disappear by the very essence of her definition.
Isabel continues to exist only so that the plot can continue

Pierre's isolation. But even this consideration is not really

valid, because Pierre can never go home again whether Isabel lived

270.
or died. And in the attainment of Isabel, there is no solace of
the ultimate. In fact, Pierre lives to see that the Yillahrlsabel
does indeed become a mocking phantom, a bad angel, a root of de-
struction, a sterile flower.

"The small white flower, it is our bane!" the imp \
ploring tenants cried. "The aspiring amaranth, every
year it climbs and adds new terraces to its sway! The
immortal amaranth, it will not die, but last year's
flowers survive to this! The terraced pastures grow
glittering white, and in warm.June still show like banks
of snow: -fit token of the sterileness the amaranth
begets! Then free us from.the amaranth, good lady, or
be pleased to abate our rent."81

With.Lucy there was the possibility of generative reproduction and
continuation of human life into history-at this point the kind of
human life is not the central consideration. But Isabel's sterili-
ty is of the Amaranth. Her bosom.hides a vial of poison, the

death dealing thing that is like an hour glass, and it is with this
symbol of Time that is Isabel's contribution to Pierre's career
that Pierre and Isabel find death.

"...Girl! wife or sister, saint or fiend!" [cried
Pierr§7 -seizing Isabel in his grasp-"in thy breasts,
life for infants lodgeth not, but deathemilk for*me and
thee!-4The drug!" and tearing her bosom loose, he
seized the secret vial nestling there."82

When we consider that Isabel contributes the vital elements of con-
sciousness and heart to Pierre as well as death, we find a repeti-
tion of the Media theme. Incorrectly oriented consciousness and

heart are as bad as lack of either. Death and suicide are the re-
sults. Consciousness and heart must be directed tg not from.earth.

Isabel is yet further specified. She longs for sea and sky,

the Time-spheres wherein man Cannot exist. Her desire to enter the

271..

world "for which the dear Savior died" (again remember Yillah's
attraction to Jarl's tattoo) is satisfied once the quester is
claimed. Then Isabel, like Yillah, wishes only to return to Time
and lifelessness, feeling that it is the goal toward which her life
is tending. It is the premonition of reentrance into the still
point of the turning world, the zero from which all birth and death

derive. It is complete non-action, complete disinterest in man and

 

earth. Isabel says of herself in relation to the world, "...my
spirit seeks different food from happiness; for I think I have a
suspicion of what it is. I have suffered wretchedness, but not be-
cause of the absence of happiness, and without praying for happi-

_ ness. I pray for peace-for motionlessness-—for the feeling of my-
self, as of some plant, absorbing life without seeking it, and ex~
isting without individual sensation. I feel that there can be no
perfect peace in individualness. Therefore, I hope one day to feel
myself drank up into the pervading spirit animating all things. I

83

feel I am an exile here. I still go straying." The transcenden—
talist's Brahma may make fancy theory, but in face of the realities
of the Time God, it is selfedeluding murder. Isabel, in short,
never does go home until she dies. For Pierre, Isabel is the con-
cretization of all the virtues which cry for a champion. As a
general symbol, Isabel is the illusion that man believes to be his
heavenly'and immortal soul, his absolute, champion-deserving ideali-
ties. attainable only in heaven. And again we come full circle in

the mutually exclusive ironies of the quester's plight. It is soul,

lure, Time, heaven and God that Melville sums up when he says,

272.
"Appallingly vacant as vast is the soul of man." When Isabel sees
the symbol of time, the sea-horizon, she displays no inland soul
whatsoever. "8811 must go through there!" she cries. "See! See!
out there upon the blue! yonder, yonder! far aways-out, out!--far,
far away, and away, and away, out there! where the two blues meet

and are nothing-Bell must go!"84

The sea-horizon, where depth
meets height, where soul meets Time and all dualities merge in the
unity of zero, that place, heaven, is-—nothing. Indeed, Melville
iterates, it is better that a man should be pushed beyond the fur-
thest verge of physical Space than to once feel himself fairly loose
and adrift within himself. And again, the central character he-
comes the allegorized figure of everyman who symbolizes, in his
relationship to all the characters external to him, humanity a prey
to all its own conflicting beliefs and necessities within the total
realm of racial memory and consciousness.

Isabel herself journeys as does Pierre. Her journey is the
search for the champion-quester. And like Pierre, Isabel also is
universal in time. As the stone imagery will show, before each
crumbling world was a crumbled world preceded by'a crumbled world.
Like the sharks and the pilot fish, the history of the Mrs. Glen-
dinnings and the Isabels is a set of mutually and infinitely re-w
flecting mirrors. Isabel's first home is a crumbling remnant of a
once proud civilization. The only inhabitants of the glory that
was Europe-in this case France-are two old people, inhuman, black
with age. So these ancient histories witness and abhor Isabel, the

God-child sin-child whoyearns for the divine parents ("earthly

273..
mother had I none"). Just so the contemporary world witnesses
Pierre, the sinning child, in his yearning for the divinity which
will replace his fallen father. The book constantly goes back to
ultimate beginnings in the history of mortality's plight and finds
none, constantly hints forward to the end of mortality's plight
and finds none. There is no China Wall that man can build in his
history and say, this is the final conquest. But ever the sterile
and frozen and uncreative North creates teeming hordes (here again
is Time) which it sendsout as evidence of Time's timelessness.

No sooner is the whale killed and the ship cleared, than the shout
goes up again, "There she blows!" and all weary mankind rushes out
once more for another bout with the limitations of mortality. 50
Isabel's first home is g beginning and an end. A remnant. Empty,
once grand rooms, crumbling marble mantlepieces, boarded up, once-
glassed windows are all she sees. Beyond the house is the immortal
and timeless forest, and somewhere beyond that another outpost of
humanity in the mountain eternities, outposts from which dependent
man lugs back his watery wine and black breed. Non-human earthly
existence, is no more hospitable to Isabel the God-child than the
last remnants of a decaying conventional society. The cat, the
only other inhabitant of the house, scratches on the floor, claim-
ing a room in the world, and when Isabel attempts to befriend it it
hisses and claws at her. She runs terrified back to her own faint-
ing loneliness. In all the world there is neither hope nor heart
for the reality, the Time-child which lurks beneath the convention-

aCL appearances of religion's silken sash, beneath the accepted

‘ ll..|..l I ‘l. I. . t I

 

 

274:
child in the manger.85 Mankind will not be hospitable to evidence
that the appearance which it invests with anthropocentric interest
and which it worships is a disinterested.murderer. When we see
present history acting toward Pierre as the cat and the old couple
acted toward Isabel, man content with living but one more lie on
the thin veneer of the present which coats the decay of the past,
we come full circle back to the theme of Time as the only absolute,
to the theme of the world's never having been redeemed from.mor-
tality, Jesus of Nazareth or no. All is a Palmyra. And the re-
fhsal to accept this one basic fact of existence makes all vanity.

Isabel's second home, the madhouse, is another view of mortal
society. The house is peopled with creatures whose hearts were
broken by their inability to attain God. They argue Fate and Hell
and Heaven and Free Will, and they clutch their breasts and murmer,
"Broken-broken-broken." They are all Pierre's who have not been
lucky enough to die. They are all Pips, whose introduction to God.
has given him a wisdom.that is madness in man's eyes. And, of
course the conventional world locks them up and once again Opinion
makes jailers all of men. Yet Isabel wishes to find the very es-
cape from mortality which drove these people mad. She is hardly
hmman.and the madmen are completely human. The sea drives Pip mad,
but it would have been home to Isabel, just as it was the final
home for Yillah. Isabel constantly has to remind herself of her
humanity. "When I saw a snake...I said to myself, That thing is
not human, but I.am.human. When the lightning flashed, and split

some beautiful tree, and left it to rot from all its greeness

2759.
‘Zhere is God agaig7, I said, That lightning is not human, but I am
human."86 Yet Isabel never really gains the human experience,
despite her life of hard work, which can ever allow her to feel
that she is anything but a stranger in and to life. China's time
and Greenwich's time simply do not exist on the same terms. And
once more we come full circle in Melville's characterization to
find the reason for the muteness, the confusedness, the fantasy,
the malleability of Isabel and Yillah. Once more it must be emy
phasized that the informing ideal is itself a shapeless, will-less
thing which, when it touches the human, active quester, is able to
activate his own will and iron-grooved determination for all the
wrong purposes. The tragedy is all in the narrator's view in
[213529. The heartbreak is not that Ahab and Taji.and Pierre were
activated by the whale, Yillah and Isabel, but that they could not
be activated by Starbuck, Jarl, and Lucy. Once more we have an
adumbration of Captain Vere's true greatness.

So the passive Isabel finds that in the world all that happens
to her is imposed from.without, wherein is the large differentia-
tion between the quester and the lure. Just as she lies within the
hollow of Pierre's hand, she lies in the hollow of Time-imposed
events. Even the succession of houses wherein she lived, in moun-
tain or in plain, were all in hollows, slope-surrounded. And the
narrator observes about God: "He holdeth all of us in the Hollow of
his hand-a Hollow truly." And truly nothing is more hollow than
zero.

Counterpointing Isabel's tale of woe, punctuating the story of

276...
the almost non-human child whose griefs are all consequences of the
parents, are the footsteps of Belly Ulver, the all—human whose
counterpointing woe is a consequence of her childbirth. The motifs
merge into unity with the introduction of Delly. The world that
lives by appearances casts out the child resulting from.the incest
of Coelus and Terra, the heaven and earth coupling of the earthly
father and the heavenly mother of Isabel, fer the conventional
world will not tolerate the change of worlds. But the same world
casts out the child and parents who on a very terrestrial level do
not conform to the rigors of Opinion and convention. In the af-
finity of like predicaments, Isabel allies herself to Delly, who in
terms of her humanity is really Isabel's "opponent" just as is
Lucy. And again, the more we explore the book's characters, the
more we find that action is pragmatically judged in a fine parallel
to the total view of the book's anti-idealism. Like Pierre, the
only solution Isabel can offer Delly'is isolation, seclusion and
withdrawal from.the world.87 Effected the same by the'banded world
of convention, Delly's history is part of Isabel's. Isabel can no
more renounce Delly than the pine-tree can renounce its own roots
that strike deep into the earth, nor any more than she can renounce
her own father and human heritage. No more can Pierre renounce his
human heritage as much as he deludes himself that he can. Ironi-
cally, it is the very act of apparent renunciation (and it is this
that makes Pierre "fool, fool, fool") which leads to the acceptance
of Dellyh-Delly who is merely Lucy minus potentialities. In a fine

symbol of the irony of Pierre's and Isabel's situation, Delly is

277,.
the humanity that they forsake and yet bring with them as an in-
escapable burden of their very history and their very act of
renunciation.

When the three move to the Apostles, it is Delly who is
closest to the warmth of life and everyday common humanity. Her
room is the kitchen, where the warmth-bearing stovepipe originates.
Isabel comes between Pierre and humanity. Once she activates him,
she cannot, even when she will, induce him to return closer to the
roots that he can never deny in the first place. There is no room
for compromise in the choice between Lucy and God. At the very
beginning, Pierre "became vaguely sensible of a certain still more
marvelous power in [Isabeg over himself and his most interior
thoughts and motions; —-a power so hovering upon the confines of
the invisible world, that it seemed more inclined that way than
this; -a power which not only seemed irresistably to draw him to—
ward Isabel, but to draw him away from another quarter-wantonly as
it were, and yet quite ignorantly and unintendingly; and besides,
without respect apparently to anything ulterior, and yet again,
only under cover of drawing him to her."88 So Isabel's room in the
Apostles pushes Pierre to the furthest corner from warmth and common
humanity. The stovepipe just enters Pierre's room, and then turns
out of it through the wall: "...moreover, it was in the furthest
comer from the only place where, with a judicious view to the light,
Pierre's desk-barrels and board could advantageously stand."89

To sum up Isabel, we can say that she, like Yillah, is heaven's

representative. The ambiguity exists in that she is human, for

278...
always the tensions of theme must be resolved on earth for Melville.
She is pictured like the pine tree rooted to earth but making mys-
terious and.mournful melody with her guitar as she yearns for the
other world. In fact, there is only one mistake Melville made with
her, a mistake which he happily avoided making with Yillah. As the
representative of ultimate silence, she, like Yillah, is mute, non-
communicative, to be interpreted only by her relationship with the
book's other characters. Yet Yillah was truly mute. The narrator
was able to present her history second hand, either through Taji's
recapitulation or through the sons of Aleema. But in EigggglMel-
ville makes the mistake of allowing Isabel to tell her own story,
so that the person who is supposed to be inarticulate becomes one
of the most articulate characters in the novel. ‘Melville tried to
live up to his intentions by emphasizing Isabel's confusions and
lapses of memory and her repeated admonitions to Pierre that he be
silent while she collects herself from her mystical mazes in order
to arrange her thoughts. But after three or four pages of semi-
poetic articulation, the sudden interjections of "But let me be
silent again. Do not answer me. When I resume, I will not wander
so, but make short end," become peremptory and unconvincing.90 The
admonitions come at regular and mechanical intervals that do not
have any special connection with Isabel's story at the moment, so
that even though.they have a definite symbolic function, they become
artificial and irritating, like the appearances of Hautia's mes-
sengers. Secondly, Yillah was always kept in seclusion, and had

good cause to be steeped in otherworldliness. But Isabel has had a

279..
life of work and experience. On the one hand, her earthly life
points up even more Isabel's essential non-earthly being, which
even in adult fears is still vague and mystical. On the other hand,
it is just plain unconvincing. In getting away fromthe figures of
cardboard allegory he created in Mardi, Melville, in creating
Isabel, partly defeated his own purpose. The self defeat, though
is in itself a revelation of theme: how can a human represent the
non-human in Melville's terms? How can she have so much voice to
tell of so much silence? Melville needed not a person, but a little
brown stone as independent as the sun, the silent essence of casual
simplicity of Emily Dickinson's poem. But faced with the necessity
of creating a living person, Melville could not avoid the diffi-
culties which after all, do not negate Isabel's effectiveness in
the book.

VI.

The view of the God that Isabel represents is refracted further
through the introduction of Plotinus Plinlimmon. It is important to
notice that there is a difference between the man and the pamphlet,
"IF," which Pierre reads on the coach. Briefly, the pamphlet es-
pouses a doctrine of comfortable expediency. God and Greenwich time
are one, earth and China time are one. (The very metaphor of time.
is significant.) The absolute ideals of Greenwich time are practi-
cable only in heaven, where there is no need to strive for ideal in
the first place. Therefore, man must live by China time, and must

model his actions after whatever behavior will make things most com-

fortable for himself individually. The individual should benefit

280.

others only if it is comfortable at the moment to do so, only if it
preserves the individual and does not bring him into danger of the
Greenwich—time action that the rest of the China world will not
accept or. understand. In brief, turn your back on the otherworld
and Christ's ideals, and live according to the necessities of earth.
At first glance, this pamphlet, highlighting Pierre's plight
as it does, would seem to advocate the very doctrine that Melville
calls for thematically in all his books. Yet, when we stop to con-
sider, we find that it is exactly this kind of action which charac-
terizes the conventional world, and it is exactly by these standan'b
that Glen Stanley performs his acts of heartlessness. In its em-
phasis on personal rather than racial security, the pamphlet implies
(what happens when it is not convenient to be beneficient?) a con-
tinuation of the social realities of woe that ostensibly it seeks
to ameliorate. The pamphlet offers a doctrine of heartlessness
that is masked by cheerful comfort, just like its author, Plotinus.
It is by these very standards that Reverend Falsgrave’acts, the
Reverend who in selling whatever absolute ideals may originally in-
here in Christ-ianity for the comforts of his breakfasts, is the
complete time-server.9l The pamphlet, the reverend, Glen Stanley,
make up the rationale and the manifestation of the conventional
mrld. The pamphlet is not a reformation; it is an apologia. The
Reverend, when cornered in a choice between a right and a wrong,
cannot find an answer according to the dictates of heart, cannot
find an answer that is compatible with the realities of humanity

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281.
Glendinning. He evades by saying that there are no absolutes or
ideal moralities that can govern every situation. In one sense,
the book's theme agrees with this. But in the most basic sense,
the book's theme discards this in the context it is given, as the
diving and ducking moralities of a conventional world which is not
willing to accept moral responsibility for man to man, fer human
history. If there is an absolute morality for Melville, its basis
has nothing to do with appearances. Its basis would depend upon
whatever the human heart demands in the strengthening of human
community and realization, so that humanity will not aid time by
killing itself and jailing itself with appearances and time-serving
Falsgrave demonstrates that the time-serving qualities of the
pamphlet are time-serving in the largest, most pragmatic sense: it
is inimical to real humanity. In his time serving, the blind and
unchristian Christian manofgod ironically serves the reality of a
God that he rejects, whose appearances only he would accept. He
leads to a false grave in terms of what he believes and espouses.
He leads, ironically,to the true grave of murderous extinction, in
the actualities of his actions. As with all of Melville's charac-'
ters, the action taken in accordance with accepted appearances
turns out ironically to have consequences in accordance with the
rejected realities. Thus Pierre's rejection of humanity leads to
his forced acceptance of his most common mortality; Falsgraves
time-serving refusal to help the true God-seeker results in true
Time—serving and the destruction of the very appearances (the Glen-
dinning estate and family) from.which he drew his sustenance'and

which he tried to preserve. Thus all the characters embrace the

2.82..
false God and the true God, the heaven and the hell, the delusive
innocence and the illusive sin. It is at the moment that Falsgrave
demure that there are no absolute moralities to apply to the case
of Delly and Ned, that his white, surplice-like napkin drops from
his chin, revealing a cameo brooch depicting the union of the dove
and the serpent. And this epiphany expands symbolically to every
level, from appearance and reality in the conventional world, to
the view of God, to the technique of the novel itself, which, like
the Encanatadas tortoise is both black and bright, uniting mutually
contradicting meanings and aspects in the one body of Time in terms
of theme and of irony in terms of technique and of origins in terms
of motif.

The objection to Plinlimmon's pamphlet, then, becomes an ob—
jection not of emphasis, but of direétion. Plinlimmon's pamphlet
has no goal for the total race. Community disappears in individual
selfishness, and the human heart is denied all over again. More-
over, the pamphlet is based upon an assumption that even though the
ideal absolutes of heaven are not for man on earth, they at least
exist, and can at least inform a saint here, a saint there, despis-
ed as he may be. Pierre's career demonstrates that the "saint"
thus informed is more than an object of dislike: he is, like the
Christ, the mrderer of race as well as of self. In short, man
murders himself with the mammoth engine of delusion. The under-
lying reality that the pamphlet sees for Greenwich time is in it-
self a misleading appearance. Characteristically, the pamphlet is

correct about expedient action, in telling man why he should turn

283.
his back on heaven; it is incorrect in its definitions. It does
not strike through to truth, and expediency remains a meaningless
expediency p E.§E° In the pamphlet is no shock of recognition.

But when we see the man, we see something else again. Plin-
limmon, we are told, did not write his pamphlet. It is the garbled
version constructed by disciples from.Plinlimmon's lectures. The -
pamphlet is garbled heartlessness; Plinlimmon is meaningful and
intentional heartlessness. Plinlimmon does not write, Plinimmon
does not read, Plinlimmon does not communicate, and it is this
that is central to his definition. The pamphlet was a direction-
less and unprofound heartlessness. The man is something quite
more deceptive and dangerous. Plinlimmon is also a Christ figure.
He leads a band of Apostles, none of whom understand him, all of
whom think they understand him and who interpret him. But he is
more than that. He is withdrawn both from this world and other~
world. He is totally withdrawn into self. Not only does Plinime
men not communicate, but he lives apart and above, in the loftiest
room of the Apostles' tower.

Very early after taking chambers at the Apostles',
‘Ziierrg7 had been struck by a steady observant blue-eyed
countenance at one of the loftiest windows of the old
grey tower.n0nly through two panes of glass-his own
and the stranger's-had Pierre hitherto beheld that
remarkable face of repose,-repose neither divine nor
human, nor anything made up of either or boths—but a
repose separate and apart-a repose of a face by itself.
The selfishness, the anti-heavenly orientation of whatever ideas
the apostles had written into the pamphlet "IF," indicates that
Plinlimmon has had his insight into the true nature of God as a

zero. At one time, the narrator muses, Plinlimmon must have read,

2,84.

written, searched. Plinlimmon, like the God he recognizes, is
totally disinterested in humanity and its destiny. But Plinlimmon
is man, not God, so his heartlessness attainment of ahumanity is
the utmost self-ishness. He locks himself away with the truth be-
cause his only interest is perpetuation of the repose which is the
perfect balance between reality and realization, between preserva-
tion and annihilation-the balance of the Memnon Stone,the balance
of the book itself. Plinlimmon becomes, like Time, ahuman, still,
the center of feverish activities and fevered actors. He has reams
ed the Nirvana-like state for which Isabel yearns, and he will not
abandon his withdrawal and thereby jeopardize his state of equili-
brium and repose.
Vain! vain! vain! said filirdhmnonts] face to [Pierre].
Fool! £001! fool! said the face to him. Quit! quit!
quit! said the face to him. But when he mentally in-
terrogated the face as to why it thrice said Vain! Fool!
Quit! to him; here there was no response. For that face
did not respond to anything. Did I not say before that
that face was something separate and apart; a face by
itself? Now, any thing which is thus a thing by itself
never responds to any other thing. If to affirm be to
expand one's isolated self; and if to deny be to con-
tract one's isolated self; then to respond is suSpension
of all isolation.93
This self-contained face hermetically sealed between two panes of
glass is Melville's view of the quietist. He has not been intro-
duced before into the list of Melville's characters-indeed, "One
adequate look at that face conveyed to most philosophical observers
a notion of something not befbre included in their scheme of the
Universe."94 Plinlimmon is the quietist who reaches the full

realization that Media had reached-a realization superior to Ahab's

and equal to Pierre's just before Pierre dies, except that

2850
Plinlimmon will not risk involvement in the world as does hedia
and will not court extinction as do the activist world-spurners,
Ahab and Pierre. He is not the needed hero. He is not the come
plete man. His selfishness is the superiority of the man who does
not risk the possible failure inherent in the activation of human
insights. In his complete and selfish willingness to let the rest
of the world bash its brains out against stone walls against which
he will never tilt, Plinlimmon is the essential heartlessness that
characterizes the unconscious conventional world for which his
pamphlet becomes an apologia. He is beyond caring in any way,
beyond wishing good or ill to anything exterior to himself, and in
this he is malignant,.
The whole countenance of this man, the whole air and look
of this man, expressed a cheerful content. Cheerful is
the adjective, for it was the contrary of gloom; con-
tent——perhaps acquiescence-is the substantive, for it
was not Happiness or Delight. But while the personal
look and air of this man were winning, there was still
something latently visible in him which repelled. That
something may best be characterized as non-Benevolence.
Non-Benevolence seems the best word, for it was neither
Malice nor Ill-will; but something passive. To crown
all, a certain floating atmosphere seemed to invest and
go along with this man. That atmosphere seems only
renderable in words by the term.Inscrutableness. Though
the clothes worn by this manlvere strictly in accordance
with the general style of any unobtrusive gentleman's
dress, yet his clothes seemed to disguise this man. One
would almost have said, his very face, the apparently
natural glance of his very eye, disguised this man.95
In the self-sufficient nothingness of the man is God. He is a lie.
The aspects of his humanity are a lie, for he has attained ahumanity
and is not to be judged by the unavoidable familiarity of exterior

form. In one sense he truly is Christ. But in his quietism.he goes

beyond any kind of morality, even the absolutes of the apparent

286..
Christ. He hides his realization beneath the mask of mystic in- '
scrutability. To describe the zero which in his insightful view
of God is his acquiescence, is to expose himself and to lose his
secluded apartness. Rather, then, than be the Prometheus with his
knowledge, he chooses his own cheerfulness (there can be no hap—
piness or delight in realizing that God does not exist) at the cost
of universal woe. In this heartlessness he becomes Melville's
worst villain. To the Pierre who pours his heart out trying to in-
struct humanity away from woe, waiting from the depths of his own
woe, the self-centered quietism of Plinlimmon begins to assume its
real villainy: in effect of its nonaction, the repose is more than
non-Benevolence: "Though this face in the tower was so clear and so
mild; though the gay youth Apollo was enshrined in that eye, and
paternal old Saturn sat cross-legged on that ivory brow; yet some-
how to Pierre the face at last wore a sort of malicious leer to
him."96 In comparison with this new monster, Pierre finally begins
to merit some sympathy. While it may be true that Pierre hurries
life to death, Plinlimmon knows it-and lets him. The malicious-
ness and villainy need not be conscious or active. Death is the
result in either case, and it is the results that are judged; and
we find that Pierre's murder stems from.altruistic intentions,
whereas Plinlimmon's acquiescence to murder stems from.aelfishness.
In short, the man who knows and does nothing is the conscious de-
ceiver'and murderer. The man who does not know but who tries is
the enthusiast who is the inadvertant (to a point) deceiver and

murderer.

237,

His disguise hides his double aspect: he is Christ and he is
fraud. (As far as Melville's other-world is concerned, the two are
one.) He cares not what his followers believe or what they believe
he believes. He lets them scrub away with their flesh-brushes be-
cause otherwise he would have to replace all the peripheral non-
sense of their transcendentalism with the central core of his own
realizations. And of course he will not share the repose of his
quietism for, as the narrator explained, the very act of sharing,
the very act of communication and response destroys the isolation
which is central to Plinlimmon's quietism. He is a fraud to the
whole world.

Finding Plinlimmon thus unfurnished either with
books or pen and paper, and imputing it to something like
indigence, a foreign scholar, a rich nobleman, who
chanced to meet him once, sent him a fine supply of
stationery, with a very fine set of volumes, -—Cardan,
Epictetus, the Book of Mormon, Abraham, Tucker, Condorcet
and the Zend-Avesta. But this noble foreign scholar
calling next daya—perhaps in expectation of some comp
pliment for his great kindness-—started aghast at his own
package deposited just without the door of Plinlimmon,
and with all fastenings untouched.

"Missent," said Plotinus Plinlimmon placidly: "if
any thing I looked for some choice Curacoa from.a noble-
man like you. I should be very happy, my dear Count, to
accept a few jugs of choice Curacoa."

“I thought that the society of which you are the
head excluded all things of that sort" -replied the
Count 0

"Dear Count, so they do; but Mohammad hath his own
dispensation."

"Ah! I see," said the noble scholar archly.

“I am afraid.you do not see, dear Count" -—said
Plinlimmon; and instantly before the eyes of the Count,
the inscrutable atmosphere eddied and eddied round about
this Plotinus Plinlimmon.97

There is no need to live by the concept of idealistic absolutes

which have no otherworldly basis, Plinlimmon realizes. But in the

288...
very choice of gifts is the repeated statement of his refusal to
share realizations: he rejects a gift which is composed of means
of communication in favor of a gift which would be composed of per-
sonal comfort. By now Plinlimmon as a character should be suf— i
ficiently clear. He is our first view of the Conscious Confidence
Man and he is the archetype of that man. There is the delusion of
the Typee dwellers, in which man is confidence man to man; but thhs
is a lesser swindle because it is unconscious. There is the
swindle which pride makes upon the world, and this is a little
worse because it is an act of strength, and act which leads the
blind Typee into further delusion. Then there is the confidence
man who is the quester, and this swindle is even worse yet because
it utilizes the very instruments that can free man from delusion
in a search for the ultimate illusion. Then there is the confi-
dence man who is Plinlimmon, who deceives blind humanity and proud
humanity consciously, and who deceives the quester with silence.
Plinlimmon is the archetypal confidence man, but he is cosmically
only the penultimate. The ultimate confidence man is God, Time,
not because it consciously works a swindle, but because it is
totally unconscious of the attributes it is supposed to have and
of the existence which endows it with those attributes. Plinlimr
mon who is conscious of God's true being is man's worst swindler,
man's worst jailer for he activates nothing, illuminates nothing,
liberates nothing; his realizations could make a Media of every
quester, but his conspiraqy of selfish silence only aids and abets

all the crimes and deceptions and swindles and jailings and murders

289.

and suicides of history.

It becomes less important that Plinlimmon's followers are
fools than that they are human. In relation to Plinlimmon, Charlie
Millthorpe, Pierre's boyhood friend, is exposed as the lesser kind
of confidence man who is not malicious or harmful in action-—or
lack of it. He deceives himself with his egotism; he deceives
himself into believing that he has insight and brilliance, when he
is but a good natured fool. "Our Grand Master, Plotinus Plinlim-
mon!" says Charlie to Pierre. "By gad, you must know Plotinus

98

thoroughly, as I have long done." Of course this man can never
know the real Plinlimmon, but he is, in a way, more important than
Plinlimmon. Plotinus reduces himself to an inoperative zero.
Charlie has beneath the coverings of egotism and goodnatured stu-
pidity, a genuinely good heart, the element which when informed
would champion Delly as Plinlimmon's advocate, Falsgrave, would
not. Millthorpe scatters good quite as easily and unconsciously as
he scatters stupidity, but he is at least, like Jarl, necessary,
wholesome, and filled with the potential which could regenerate
mankind. After helping Pierre, Charlie skips gayly out of the
apartment, and Pierre muses after Millthorpe, "Plus heart, minus

head," muttered Pierre, his eyes fixed on the door. "Now, by
heaven! the god that made Millthorpe was both a better and a greater
than the god that made Napoleon or Byron [5nd certainly better than
the god that made Plinlimmon7. --Plus head, minus heart-_Psh: the
brains grow maggoty without a heart; but the heart's the preserving

99
salt itself, and can keep sweet without the head."

290.
The God that made all, however, is the same God that destroys
the heart; here a brief look at the novel's stone imagery will dis-

close the definition of the god that becomes the book's most power-

ful character.

VI

The first stone we see is the supposedly eternal marble of the
shrine which Pierre builds in his heart to the memory of his family.
It is the stone of ideality and vanity. we remember the narrator's
purpose in emphasizing that Pierre was born in the country. It is
the apparent Eden, and “in Pierre's eyes, all its hills and swales
seemed as sanctified through their very long uninterrupted pos-
session by his race. That fOnd ideality which, in the eyes of af-
fection, hallows the least trinket once familiar to the person of a
departed love; with Pierre that talisman touched the whole earthly
landscape about him.“100 This is the first stone to crumble, the
fond ideality which will disappear and leave the world unhinged.
The early Pierre, "the only surnamed male Glendinning extant...in
the ruddiness, and flushfulness, and vain-gloriousness of his youth-
ful soul...fondly hoped to have a monopoly of glory in capping the
fame—column, whose tall shaft had been erected by his noble sire;91
The appearance of the glory-stones erected by men is supposedly con—
doned by the traditionally accepted God: "Thus in Pierre was the
complete polished steel of the gentleman, girded with Religion's
silken sash; and his great-grandfather's soldierly fate had taught
hflm'that the generous sash should, in the last bitter trial, furnish

its wearer with Glory's shroud; so that what through life had been

291.
. . 102
worn fer Grace's sake, in death might safely hold the man.“
And then immediately the narrator presents the juxtaposition of
weaning that Religion's God's secret reality gives the lie to con-
ventional faith and that the realization of the lie is humanity's
burden of woe.
But while thus all alive to the beauty and poesy of his
father's faith, Pierre little foresaw that this world
bath a secret deeper than beauty, and Life some burdens
heavier than death.10
But what is the quality of the reality of God that should tumble
all appearances into meaninglessness? Picking up the stone imagery
again, the narrator gives the answer in an identification of God
that is the key to Melville's symbolism. Directly after the in-
troduction of Pierre's marble shrine, the narrator adds this all-

important paragraph:

In all this, how unadmonished was our Pierre by
that foreboding and prophetic lesson taught, not less
by Palmyra's quarries, than by Palmyra's ruins. Among
those ruins is a crumbling, uncompleted shaft, and some
leagues off, ages ago left in the quarry, is the comm-
bling corresponding capital, also incomplete. These
Time seized and spoiled; these Time crushed in the egg;
and the proud stone that should have stood among the
clouds, Time left abased beneath the soil. Oh, what
quenchless feud is this, that Time hath with the sons of
Men!104

The parallel to the early Pierre is no less obvious than the paral-
lel to the later Pierre as Enceladus, the Titan who tried to storm
the ramparts of heaven to regain equality with God. God becomes
removed from.any Christian concept; but for purposes of symbolic
(imagery, he is clothed in the disguising Christian terms of God and
Satan. Thus Melville's Satanism and demonism.is no more than the

recognition of life's secret of woe, Melville's Titanism.is no more

292..
than man's attempt to conquer and abolish the cause of that woe:
mortality. God, Satan, Hell, Heaven are all man, are all man-made
concepts manifesting the facts of existence, all within man the
quester, all of man the quester, all subordinated to and enveloped
in the nothingness that is the killerbcreator, Time. And so all
men are mortal sons of Adam, sons of Men, not sons of God with
which man.can never be equal. And of course, Enceladus, who like
the quester has an earthly heritage in the incest of early origins,
can never conquer zero, can never be equal with Time and is abased
beneath the soil figuratively and literally by the facts of his
mortality. There is no doubt about the definition of God. In
presenting Pierre's dream of Enceladus, Melville ties in the stones
of Palmyra, the origins of Isabel, the goal of the quester, all
made specific in the identification between Pierre and the Titan.
A heap of rocks and stones on the approaches to the mount of the
Titans has been cast from the heights so that they form a rough—
hewn fbrm.of the sky-assaulting Enceladus, the Titan. Abased like
the stones of Palmyra, there was "Enceladus the Titan, the most
potent of all the giants, writhing from.out the imprisoning earth;
-—turbaned with upborne moss he writhed; still, though armless,
resisting with his whole striving trunk, the Pelion and the Case
hurled back at him; --turbaned with upborne moss he writhed; still
turning his unconquerable front [this is timeless, this is all of
human history7 toward that majestic mount eternally in vain assail-
ed by him, and which, when it had stormed him.off, had heaved his

undoffable incubus upon him, and deridingly left him there to bay

.293:
out his ineffectual howl."105 Also characterizing the approach to
the unassailable mountain is the warfare between the catnip and '
the amaranth.' "Soon you would see the modest verdure of the
'[Eatnip7 itself; and wheresoever you saw that sight, old founda—
tion stones and rotting timbers of log-houses long extinct would
also meet your eye [remember Isabel's first homeg7; their desola—
tion illy hid by the green solicitudes of the unemigrating herb.
Most fitly named the catnip; since, like the unrunugate cat,
though all that's human forsake the place, that plant will long
abide, long bask and bloom on the abandoned hearth. ‘Zfiemember the
cat scratching on the hearth, the cat that hissed at the God-child,
God-hungerer, Isabel27 Illy hid; for every Spring the amaranthine
and celestial flower gained on the mgrtgl household herb; for
every autumn the catnip died, but never an autumn made the amaranth

to me o "106

Then, in order that there be no doubt left about the
symbolism, the narrator adds, "The catnip and the amaranth! -man's
earthly household peace, and the everbencroaching appetite for
God.“ And lest even at this point there be any doubt that Pierre,
under the amaranth influence of Isabel is really assaulting Time,
questing for God, the narrator makes the last equation that the
unconvinced reader*may now need. In his dream, Pierre watched as
the stone Titan "turned his vast trunk into a battering-ram, and
hurled his own arched—out ribs again and yet again against the
invulnerable steep.
"Enceladus! it is Enceladus!" -—Pierre cried out in
his sleep. That moment the phantom.faced him; and Pierre

saw‘Enceladus no more; but on the Titan's armless trunk,
his own duplicate face and features magnifiedly gleamed

 

 

 

 

H

291..
upon him.with prophetic discomfiture and woe. With
trembling frame he started from.his chair, and woke from
that ideal horror to all his actual grief.107

In this selection is a further theme which is continued in the
stone imagery. Enceladus is "that deathless son of Terra."108
The green catnip dies each fall in autumnal rot and yet is reborn
each Spring. The cat, for Pierre, is still around after all the
symbolic centuries have passed since Isabel's first home. There
is a growing hint that the mortal sons of man are as immortal as
the Time they mistakenly war against. Yet how can this be? The
images of stone and green once again create Melville's view of
history to show that man's only immortality is in his collective
V and historic mortalitya-the heritage of each generation handed
down to the next in all the awful responsibilities of Time.109
For instance, the Mount of the Titans is presented as sterile and
hideous upon the close view which belies the distant appearances.
"Nevertheless, round and round those still enchanted rocks, hard
by their utmost rims, and in among their cunning crevices, the
misanthropic hill-scaling goat nibbled his sweetest food; for the
rocks, so Egrrgg in themselves, distilled a subtle moisture, which
fed withgreenness all things that grew about their igneous marge]!P
To pick up the answer'to how the zero of Time, or God, as you will,
can be both killer and creator, we have to turn to another example
of the stone imagery. I

When the narrator equates Pierre's proud marble glory-struc—

ture with the stones of Palmyra abased beneath the soil, he makes

a transition into the next section, in which he examines human

295..
history in relation to Time. "Certainly that common saying among
us, which declares, that a family, conspicuous as it may, a single
half—century shall see it abased; that maxim undoubtedly holds
true with the commonalty'."lll In this observation, Melville
couples Pierre's present American history with Isabel's ancient
European, French historyb-in their mortality they are basically the
same: there is cycle beyond cycle. Indeed, in this entire section,
the narrator not only makes European history as transient as
American, but in tracing the unchartered aristocracy of old Ameri-~
can families, he makes American history as permanent as European,
and then in the next section he follows through from.the generali-
zations to place the deed's of Saddle Meadows in the aboriginal
beginning point of three Indian Kings. Throughout, history, the
implication is, goes back everywhere to the symbolic Adam who is
simply the first mortal man. Using the abased stone as the point
of departure, Melville adds the motif of greenness and explains the
common history and heritage of all men.

The monarchical world very generally imagines, that
in demagoguical America the sacred Past hath no fixed
statues erected to it, but all things urreverently seethe
and boil in the vulgar cauldron of an everlasting un-
crystalized Present.112

Once he associates Time with history, the narrator goes on to ex,
plain why the American everlasting and uncrystallized Present is a
‘truer picture of the fact of eternity than the vainglorious pre-

tensions of the European "eternal" aristocratic families. At once

he introduces France, which here becomes representative not only of

'the crumbling European history that was concretized in Isabel's

296.

early home, but also of the otherworld of Time as suggested by
Isabel's divine mother—heritage. And he unites the two with an
image of greenness that works both ways:
In our cities families rise and burst like bubbles in a
vat. For indeed the democratic element operates as a
subtile acid among us, forever producing new things by
corroding the old; as in the south of France verdigris,
the primitive material of one kind of green paint, is
produced by grape-vinegar poured upon copper plates.
Now in general nothing can be more significant of decay
than the idea of corrosion; yet on the other hand nothing
can more vividly suggest luxuriance of life, than the
idea of green as a color; for green is the peculiar
Signet of all-fertile Nature herslef.ll3
In short, Time as eternal, by the very nature of its definition and
its relationship to mortality, supplies the passage of ages which
rots one mortal structure only to supply more ages which create
new structures out of the fertilizing not of the past. And so the
barren rocks, themselves sterile, distill the liquids which birth
the greenest things. Thus the act of Time's creation is necessari-
ly the act of Time's killing; coupled with the woe which is humani-
ty‘s realization that no single thing lasts fbrever-anot the physi-
cal man nor the man's soul safely bound in Religion's silken sash-
is the potential strength of humanity's realization of its own
collective and racial immortality. Only the quester, only man can
really murder man with no regenerative results. Time left alone
to itself must create by the fact of its killing, and so Terra is
as immortal as Coelus; mortality is as immortal as eternity. This
is the explanation for Pierre's sin in rejecting humanity. It is

time rejection of the very immortality, God, Time, absolute which he

as Enceladus seeks.

297;
And again, in order not to let his theme escape the uncon—
vinced reader, Melville returns to a statement about American
history, in its democratic everchanging eternal present, as the
most compatible with the actualities of Time:

Herein by apt analogy we behold the marked anomalousness
of America; whose character abroad, we need not be sur—
prised, is misconceived, when we consider how strangely
she contradicts all prior notions of human things and
how wonderfully to her, Death itself becomes transmuted
into Life. So that political institutions, which in
other lands seem above all things intensely artificial,
with America seem to possess the divine virtue of a
natural law; for the most mighty of Nature's laws is
this, that out of Death she brings Life.llh

Melville here takes his place with his contemporaries in the

nationalism.with which American history is viewed in comparison

with the European. It is part and parcel of the anti-traditional
ism of Whitman, Howells, Emerson, Twain. With all his contempo-
raries, Melville reasoned.from.a view of God to the human insti-
tution. But unlike his contemporaries, Melville with his view of
God was able to create a modern theme out of an outmoded method-
ology. Melville's democracy depended not upon a transcendent or
idealistic view of God but upon a view of God which necessitated
modern relativism.and pragmatism. It is in this basic view rather
than.in basic methodology that Melville stands apart from.all his
contemporaries except possibly Emily Dickinson and the late pro-
ductions of Mark Twain. The naturalist and realist and all the
strictly 20th century American writers (regardless of the 19th
century chronology of Crane, Dreiser, etc.) saw that since there is
. no traditional God, man cannot reason from a view of God to a view

of man. And in this, the 20th century largely split from the 19th..

298a
Melville saw God much as many 20th century writers see God, but he
insisted that man can still reason from God to man, but must use
new methodologies and new conclusions. If we find a non-existent
God, Melville implies, we do not say that we can find no guidepost
simply because men up until now have been saying that emulation of
God and his universe should be the proper work of man. Melville
implies that perhaps the word emulation should be changed to con-
trol, and this is the basic theme emerging from the motifs of
Fate, or pragmatically viewed history. And this is the basis that
makes Melville more completely modenn than any of his contemporar-
ies.

Pierre, the enthusiast and.country bred, does try to emulate
what he considers to be God. At least he tries to emulate the
chronometric Christ which the horologic Falsgrave denies. When
Isabel's letter sends him off on his search for God, Pierre
realizes that his appeals to the traditional view of God, all the
heavenly and invisible powers he had so freely invoked while bound
by Joy instead of Grief, are no longer either operative or mean-
ingful. And when he invokes this new reality, this new and un-
known God who lurks behind the drawn visor of events and truth, he
says, "Thou Black Knight, that with visor down, thus confrontest
me, and mockest at me; lo! I strike through thy helm, and will see
thy face, be it Gorgonl"l15 Of course the zero he finds beneath
the disguise of events does turn him to stone; it is Gorgon, and
Pierre is frozen into being neuter and nothing for he has rejected

all of life for a no-thing. It is the thought that perhaps there

299.
may be nothing behind the mask that Ahab finds the most "freezing"
possibility. To find out the truth about God is not annihilation,
contrary to the old myths of the pagans. Plinlimmon proves that.
But to find out that all one's actions and life and sacrifices have
been based upon an appearance which is not there, is to make one
the utter fool and to freeze one out of mobility and life. To see
God is not death. But to try to 23 God, to be one with Time, is
death in Eternity. So far, Time is the stone of Gorgon, the view
of Medusa. It is also the continuing ruin of Palmyra and the re-
generation of ever new green life. The equilibrium of Time poised
between killing and creating is extended in an explanatory section
that describes the Memnon or Terror Stone. This stone is related
to earthly existence only by the one tiny point of equilibrium.
Otherwise, Time's aspects of life and death do not touch earthly
cares and needs: Time is the Ultimate Indifference as well as the
ultimate silence.

It was shaped something like a lengthened egg, but
flattened more; and, at the ends, pointed more; and yet
not pointed, but irregularly wedge-shaped. Somewhere
near the middle of its underside, there was a lateral
ridge; and an obscure point of this ridge rested on a
second lengthwise sharpened rock, slightly protruding
from.the ground. Beside that one obscure and minute
point of contact, the whole enormous and most ponderous
mass touched not another object in the wide terraqueous
world. It was a breathless thing to see. One broad
haunched end hovered within an inch of the soil, all
along the point of teetering contact; but yet touched not
the soil.1 6

The other end of the stone rests above a vacancy large enought to
admit a crawling man. The stone is described as ageless, as be—

longing to the history of the whole world-the theory even being

offered that perhaps the stone was transported by some members of

3.00.0.
the wandering tribes of Israel. The time-blind Typee dwellers do
not account the stone any great miracle, for they are unable to
comprehend this new God, "because, even, if any of the simple
people should have chanced to have beheld it, they, in their 299d-
winked unappreciativeness, would not have accounted it any very
marvelous sight."ll7 The stone is inscribed with initials that "in
their antiqueness, seemed to point to some period before the era
of Columbus' discovery of the hemisphere." The initials are "8.
ye H." "But who, -who in Methuselah's name, -who might have been
this '3. ye W.'?"119 Once, a "not-at-all-to-be-hurried white—hairai
old kinsman" after "reading certain verses in Ecclesiastes...had
laid his tremulous hand upon Pierre's firm.young shoulder, and
slowly whispered—-'ch; 'tis Solomon the Wise.'" 'The young Pierre,

when told this curious conceit,120

had laughed. But it is the
young Pierre who builds in his heart the marble shrine of appear—
ances, "For at that period, the Solomonic insights'ZEad7 not poured
their turbid tributaries into the pure—flowing well of the childish
life.“121 The ungriefed youth, the very, very young Pierre, the
country bred, has yet to learn that Methuselan age's curious con-
ceit has more meaning and truth.in it than he suspects.122 For
.gigggg, as a single book we need not go outside the book itself to
find in Pierre's gradual education the greater insight that old age
has into the vagaries of indifferent Time. For Melville's works as
one developmental totality, we find the meaning for "8. ye W." givem

in MObthick. In the chapter'on "The Try werks" the narrator Says:

301,

The truest of all men was the Man of Sorrows, and the
truest of all book's is Solomon's, and Ecclesiastes is
the fine hammered steel of woe. "All is vanity." ALL.
This wilful world hath not got hold of unchristian
Solomon's wisdom yet. But he who dodges hospitals and
jails, and...graveyards...not that man is fitted to sit
on tombstones and'break the green damp mould with un-
fathomably wondrous Solomon.

 

 

The paragraph which follows this not only sets up the isolation of
the true seer, but underscores his realization that man cannot re—
move himself from.his human heritage, from the death and birth of
the evidence in the green mould:
But even Solomon, he says, "the man that wandereth out of
the way of understanding shall remain" (i.e. even while
living) "in the congregation of the dead." Give not thy-
self up, then, to fire, lest it igyggt thee; as fer the
time it did me. ,
Ishmael's intrusion with "(i.e., even while living)" emphasizes the
ironic inversions, especially when so closely fellowed by the word
"invert." Every death is a reality for grief, but in turn is only
an appearance which masks more life, which is a reality for blind
Joy of Typee, but which in turn is a mask for'more death. Again,
we see Melville's repeated technique of using irony to give dual and
apparently mutually exclusive meanings for everything, so that his
images become the symbolemirrors that reflect alternate inversions
into infinity. And the dualities become a unity in the wisdom.of
Solomon the wise, which is the wisdom.cf Melville. Solomon warns,
remove thyself not from the ways of understanding, as does Plinlimp
mon in his way, as does Pierre in his. The fire is "evil" only
secondarily. It is the means by which man mistakenly tries to con-

quer Time-it is the try made in the try works to boil‘gut whales,

and the greatest, blindest, most indifferent, ubiquitous whale is

302.
but the mask of Time. When Ishmael is blinded by the fires of the
ideal, or of the Satanisms-the two new are one, the terms no long-
er’make any difference in this unchristian view of God and Man-—he
almost kills society. The isolation of his fire reveries moment-
arily removed him from mankind, from common understanding. Ahab,
who is completely given over to fire and fire worship (Fedallah)
does kill "man's earthly household peace" with his "ever encroach-
ing appetite for God" -exactly as does Pierre. Pierre and Ahab
and the Parsees have not yet been convinced that God is the Ulti-
mate Indifferent, the Impersonal, and they see in the flow of
events that upsets ideality and appearance, not the error-filled
increments of the immortality of mortal history, but the concerned
efforts of a malignant Deity which the parsee worships, which the
questeriassaults. It is the mistake of some critics to stop there
and not see that this is not the final view of Deity-—that this
view is Ahab's, not Melville's, that there is the further'un-
christian rather than anti—christian Solomonic insight yet to be
achieved: the view of God as impersonal 23mg which touches earth
only in the balance between life and death, the organic balance of
the green mold. Melville does not deposit responsibility for his-
tory into the hands of any God, malignant or beneficent. Man must
return to the ways of understanding armed with heart and Solomonic
consciousness in order to begin to control the frustrations and
ironies of history which so heap and task and block the Ahabs and
Pierres. And therein, "Melville's" diabolism.is not the Satanism

of the Black mass.

3036
And so Pierre makes the Taji mistake and the Ahab mistake.

He appeals to the Terror Stone as to an intelligent Deity: "if
Duty‘s self be but a bugbear, and all things are allowable and un-
punishable to man; -—then do thou, Mute Massiveness, fall on me!
Ages thou hast waited; and if these things be thus, then wait no
more; for whom better canst thou crush than him who now lies here
invoking thee?" As far as Time is concerned all things areliilowh
able and unpunishable: man does not meet his just rewards in eterh
nal afterlife. It is no use invoking a stone (How, Pierre is to
demand, can men say that they get a voice from.Silence?), for man
must himself answer his own prayers. Time's point of contact with
men does not include the enormous area of man's desires and aspira-
tions. The Mute Massiveness of time, like the corposants which
never heard Ahab's most central and impassioned plea, is not even
interested by its very nature in the very plea which asks if Time
is interested. All that Pierre feresees in his most gloomy pre-
sentiments comes to pass. But God gives no indication one way or
the other. All that there is following the plea is the "de-
ception" and appearance of life itself. No thunder rolls. Rather,
"A down-darting bird, all song, swiftly lighted on the unmoved and
eternally immovable balancings of the Terror Stone, and cheerfully
chirped to Pierre."12[+ In seeking omens in the first place, man
plays confidence man to himself and makes a God, who has no values
or moralities, appear to be the most malignant traitor and
swindlerul25

When we see Oro in Mardi, his qualities are adumbrated; they

304:

are not reached through institutionalized religion but they are not
equated with anything as clearly definititive as Pierre's Time.
When God first appears in Moby-Dick, he is to Ishmael the universal
joker who passes the smarting thump all round to all shoulders. He
is the startlingly familiar God of Emily Dickinson's ironic poem

I know that he exists

Somewhere, in silence.

He has hid his rare life

From our gross eyes.

'Tis an instant's play,

'Tis a fond ambush,

Just to make bliss

Earn her own surprise!

But should the play

Prove piercing earnest,

Should the glee glaze

In death's stiff stare,

Would not the fun

look too expensive?

Would not the jest

Have crawled too far?
By the time Moby-Dick is well under way, God has retreated even
further from intentional connection with life and death and is, in
the corposants, the personified impersonal. By the time we come to
Pierre, God has reached his last stage for Melville. He is limited

126

by his own being, his own omnipotence. Time, limited by its own

nature, is beyond any idea of interest, and will not, can not look

down to laugh at the heartbreaking follies of men as do even the

inhabitants of Mardi's red star, Arcturus.

305.

NOTES

1. George C. Humans, "The Dark Angel: The Tragedy of Herman
Melville," 9, V (1932), 729.

2. Pierre, 37-38. ‘Ihe text used for this study is edited by Henry
A. Murray, Hendricks House-Farm Strauss, New York, 1949.

3. 113332, 381..

1.. m 385.

5. E3133, 31-32.

6. 23933;, 69.

7. $3133, 68.

8. 332219.: 61..

9. m 69. Italics mine.
10.31.3329, 68

11.13933; 2.

12. Pierre, 28.

13.210352, 6'7.

Ito-2.12.3.6... 67.

15.21339, 28.

16.31333, 28.

17.313339 28.

1i8._1’;i_9_rr____eJ 28-29.
ABM 21.. Italics mine.
20.232.13.22, 321. Italics mine.
21.113333, 2.

22.11353. 1.1.

23.Pierro, 1.1.

306.

21,. Pierre, 5.
25. Pierre, 1.2.
26. Pierre, 42.
27. Pierre, 1.1..
28. See below, 24.2-21.4.
29. See below, 279-289.

30. Pierre, 2130

31. William Braswell, "Melville's Opinion of Pierre," AID XXIII
(1951). 235.

32. Pierre, 183.
33. Pierre, 17.

31.. Pierre, 17.

35. Pierre, 15. The coverings-up constitute a major motif. Everything
is covered by something else. The chair pcrtrait's smile covers what to
Pierre first seems to be rot. Isabel's true history is hidden by a recital
of vague memories that she can scarcely communicate. Plinlimmon's
pamphlets are written not by him but by disciples. Reverend Falsgrave's
snowy white napkin covers the symbol of his own shortcomings. Pierre '3
father's cousin lays the chair portrair face down so that it cannot be
seen, and paints it in secret. Words are sublimated into the disguising
muteness of pictures, which play as constant actors. The disguise
motif parallels Pi.erre's plight. Nobody in the world can be completely
honest for the world does not life by chronometers. But Pierre is
the only person who attempts complete conscious honesty (I will write
it! I will write itl) and he is killed by his own chronometric

attempt. His death was inevitable long before he made the suicidal
act orcommission.

36. Pierre, 2.
37. Pierre, 3.

38° 2.1.9222. 13-

39. Pierre, 13. For a Freudian view of the Queen imagery, see
Henry A. Murray's "Introduction” to Pierre, min-mix.

2.0. Pierre, 11..

. _
,. o - o .'

.4

 

307 .

1.1. lierre, 105:”Then, high-up and towering, and all-forbidding..."
OtOe

1.2. Pierre, 2?. Capitals mine.

43. Pierre, 98. Italics mine.

Me Pierre, 97o

1.5. Pierre, 198. The introduction of Hamlet is not only a fine
stroke of thematic parallelisms, but it is also an indication of
Melville's insight into Shakespeare. Like Hamlet, Pierre also turns

to a frenzied search for otherworldlt, cosmic Justifications for his
earthly actions.

1.6. Pierre, 233.
47' 21921. 233'

(.8. Pierre 197-198. See G Giovanni, "Melville and Dante," %
LX‘V (195077—325; and "Melville's m and Dante's Inferno, 1511i,
111V (1949). 70-73-

49. E333; 152-153.

50. 2.1.9.132» 1..

51. {12133, 12.

52. m. 1..

53. 113353, 33.

51» 1113233.. 157-158.

55. Piggy, 21.

56. m 23-21..

57. 3.1.9.332: 23.

58. m 36.

59. E3139, 25.

60. m 1.

61. 242.133, 6. Italics mine.

62. Pierre, 59.

308.

63. Pierre, 233-231.. When we consider the backward reaching of this
language - to Pierre's distaste for humanity when he reads Isabels
letter - and the forward reaching of the language -- to Mrs.
Glendinning's disinheritance of Pierre and to Pierre's realization that
he is cast off by the other world (Pierre is neuter now) -- we have but
one of any number of examples of the richly reflexive character of
Melville's use of words. In the same sense is the association of

"Fumre" (Tune, God) with "blank".

61.. Pierre, 103.

65. Lawrence ‘Ihompson's exposition of the basic divergence of
the Carlyle view and the “elville view is brilliant. See Melville's

Quarrel with God (Princeton, 1952), passim.

 

66. Pierre, 13.
67. 31.22% 125.
68. 23330;, 126.
69. Pierre, 1,21.
70. 313313. 1.22.
71. 2.1.2112: 1.25.
72. 513133, 107.
73. E13333, 426.
'74. £322.22: 1.27.
75. m, 46.
76. Pierre, 47.
77. Pierre, 1.6-2.7.
78. Pierre, 1.8.
79. Pierre, 1,8."
80. Pierre, 381.
81. Pierre, 1,03.
82. Pierre, 1.25.
83. Pierre, 139-140.

84. Pierre, 1.180

309.

85. Pierre, 136: "Once they sat by the fire with a leaf
between them..." etc. 'me trensubstantiation, the belief in the
appearance-Christ as savior, the refusal to admit the true follower
of Time or God, who is seen as sinful. Man commits this latter

Christ to the flames of hell.

86o Pierre , 14-4»

87. Indeed, Isabel's first letter to Pierre asks him to take
action which will necessitate his withdrawal from the world. "Art
thou an angel, that thou canst overleap all the heartless usages and
fashions of a banded world, that will call t‘me fool, fool, fool! and
curse thee, if thou yieldest to that heavenly impulse which alone Can
lead thee to respond tomthe long tyrannizing, and now at last
unquenchable yearnings of my bursting heart?" (74.)

88. 322.13.11.23 178.

89. 23313, 350.

90. 233322: 11.0.

91. m 114-118.
92. 319333. 31.3.

93. 312.132.: 31.5.

91.. $9333, 343.

95. 2.1.2132: 31.1.

96. £392.13: 31.5.

97. m 342-343.
98. Pierre... 343.
99. 233132. 376-377.
100.Pierre, 7.
lOi.Pierre, 6-7.
102.Pierre, 5-6.
103.Pierre, 6.
101,,Pierre, 7.

105oPierre , 1.05-1.06.

 

 

310.

106. Pierre, 1,05.

107. Pierre, 1.07.

108e Pierre, [yoée

109. It is well to define here, briefly, Melville's idea of Fate,
or predestination, which stalks almost as a character throughout his
pages. Too often Melville's insistence on Fate has been interpreted in
terms of the Calvinism of Melville's personal family background. Yet,
whenever there is en allusicn to Fate, it is not made in trai itional
Christian context. Moreover, when God is removed from all conscious
purposes, and is resolved into the vacancy of Eternity and Time, how
can there be a working of fixed Fate and predestination, an appareitly
conscious force? 'Ihe answer lies in the motif of origins. Insofar as
any man is allowed freedom by the human history handed down by his
fathers, insofar as his heart or heartlessness, mind or mindlessness
is operative upon specifics in the present circumscribed by the demands
of mortal history, the Melville character has free will. The racial
blood, the racial memory, infuses into the character (if he is the
quester) desires and goals that are not compatible with the appearance-
values of his present history, but which have their roots in the total
actions of the total past. This is the quester's predisposition. 'Ihis
is part of his fixed Fate. Indofar as the sins of the fathers are
visited upon the child in the circumstances of human history, there
is a real cause and effect; once the act is made, the consequences
are inseparable from the act. Once Pierre accepts and believes Isabel's
letter, than the whole course of his life is predestined by the acts .-
of the fathers and by his own prediSposition, which in turn is an

inheritance from the human past. The demon Principle, the three Weird
Ones do not originally dictate acts. They dictate the consequences of
acts which in tum dictate future acts, and so on into receding futures.
)nce the original act is past, then, ,the demon Principle pragmatically
.ictates acts. For the original act, Melville finds his convenient
ymbol -- in a non-Christian sense --"‘in Adan. And Adam in tum was
redestinated by the facts of his mortality. Adam or the original
itan are equatable. In the fallen Adam who is common man is the
iconscious and heartless Typee of mortality. In the fallen Titan is
[6 anti-Typee quester. The original problem is not so much one of
here did evil come from?" as it is one of seeing that the earliest
man history, in not attempting to be its own God (man's relegation

control to the hands of the apparent God) dictated that all the
:ure would be a cmsequent history of uncontrolled chaos -- mistake,
and hence evil. The center of action and consequence is

me, error,

ced in the hands of man, who must shape his own history, and by
trolling chaos, aid the history of evil. He is free to accept Typee,
sladus, or Plinlimmon, and in any case, the choice has its own set
:onsequences. Choice must be directed by earth and not ideal if it
:0 have prOper consequences. 'me vicious circle of erroneous acts

.estinating further incremental acts or error as consequences of past
can be broken when men chooses his proper consequences by choosing

proper ac ts and directions. The example of this orientation must
1: discussim of Billy Budd.

311.

110. m 1.04.
111. m, 7-8.
112. 111.212: 7.

113. m, e.

111,. £i_e_r_r_e_, 8.

115. £193.13: 76.

116. 2.3.9332! 154-155.
117. 22.3333, 155. Italics mine.
118. 11.239.» 156.
119. m, 156.
120. 333.29.» 156.

121. P193319, 79e

122. Pierre, 289: the conversation between the "elderly friend" and
the very very young Pierre.

123. Pierre, 158.

12.. Pierre, 158.

125. For a good discussicn of the deceptions of the "blue day", the
light leaping frcm darkness and the darkness from light, see George R.
Creeger, Color Symbolism _in the Works g_f_ Herman Melville: 1846-1852
(unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Yale, 1952}, passim.

126. For a tracing of the concept of a limited or unlimited God,
see A.O. LoveJoy's treatment of God as Goodness and God as the Good,

The Great Chain ngeing, chapters I, II, III, and passg,

CHAPTER IV
BILLY BUDD

So far, in the developmental voyage of Melville's theme, there
has been a set of relationships between characters which becomes
the focal point for the literal-level of plot and for the symbolic

levels of theme. The set is the counterpointing of (l) quester,

(2) lure, (3) God, and (1+) world. (either western, primitive, or
both.) In W, Melville had adumbrated the patterns of imagery
which would result in the thematic opposition of characters. Al-
though the theme was not consciously worked out, the tensions be-
tween worlds, greenness, and whiteness, land, and sea, world and

quester, mind and heart, communication and isolation were apparent

in embryo form. In Mardi, Melville drew the symbols together and

demonstrated the central concerns which were to be the theme and

plot of the following novels, and the focus upon the four basic

:haracters was fixed. In Redburn and Whitejacket the motifs of
.ime and history were continued, but without the great metaphysical
xplorations _a_s_ _s_u.9_l_1 for the fundamental intentions of those books.
.1 these novels, Melville explored human relationships caught in the

-ow of the world's history; but the relationship between God and

 

313.

Man, while certainly not superfluous, and while certainly suggest-
ed, is peripheral rather than central. In 11921-393 Melville sum-
med up all the preceding books in the most artistic single example
of the quest situation, and purified his theme in a single unity

of steel—or as Melville would have it, of gold largely separated

from the dross. Having summed up the central situation, he was

free to move to closer explorations of particulars, and in Pierre
he defined God as suggested by Mardi. And in Pierre, he moved to-

ward a more particular investigation of the deceit involved in

humanity's clinging to appearances and names. The logical next

 

step is the exploration of deceit, and thus The Confidence Man be-
comes the study of the optimist, of the worldling, who believes
what the Indian-hater or the rheumatic knows is but a bitterly de-
The Confidence Man has no questers as such, but

lusive dream.
rather concentrates on the Reverend Falsgraves and Aunt Charities

who surround the isolatoes of various kinds. Such characters of-

fer no possible conclusion to the problems raised in Melville's
works, for, operating on a philosophy of God's in his heaven and
all's right with the world, they continue to drift along as pawns
of Fate, misreading completely man's history and circumstances

which are so pathetically out of whack with the Confidence Man's

meliorism and optimism. Therefore this book has its narrative

:enter in exposure of types rather than in the unifying situation—-
'.t is a. symbolic construct which is not completely successful simply
ecause by its own demands it does not require the literal level of

lot—something more must come of this, the narrator realizes as he

311..

ishes the book. The something more that is needed is the reso—

ion.‘ After all the books of exposure and negation, there must

the positive answer, and thus, in the capstone of the whole
mature,

 

Billy Budd moves closer to the affirmation inherent in

agedy than any of the other novels. Billy,r Budd, finally, after

L]. the torment of the earlier books, takes the definition of God

or granted.

The question is no longer, to which world shall man
Lim?

 

And in Billy Budd, we see that the major characters have been
pared down to two: the lure and the complete man, both brought into
contact and conflict by the presence of the Satanic view of woe

which comes of the fact that at this point the definition of God is

taken for granted in relation to the other books. Simply, in Billy
Budd Melville, by means of his other books, has the absolute (nega-

tive as it may be in part) which is necessary—as Theodore Spencer
pointed out—as the commonly accepted background against which

man's desire for order and man‘s violation of order may be viewed

as tragedy. And classical tragedy demands an imposition of

social order upon individual action.

In this, it is the classi-
cist' 3 form.

And in this consideration, via Billy Budd, is the ex-
posure of Melville as a classicist and not as a mmanticist. Many
critics have seen Melville as a romanticist mostly for two reasons:

First because of the Prometheanism of his novels (except Bil_ly Budd)

 

and second because of the primitivism in his novels. But it is
emphatically important that we see that the Prometheanism exists in

order to be rejected in terms of individualism and in terms of man's

cosmic status, and that the primitivism exists as a vehicle for

315.
Melville's cultural relativism and pragmatism. What remains be-

fore we can examine Billy Budd is an identification of what Mel-

 

ville means by atheist, via a restatement of the quester-confidence
man who deludes man and self into chaotic action which destroys
order.

The quester is an atheist because he rejects man and thereby
rejects man's conventional God, once the rejection allows him to
see that God is the Time-Zero. He has no belief left on which to
perch his weary soul, and becomes neuter. The quietist rejects

communal, earthly felicity for all men in order to preserve his own

quietism; unable to believe in the conventional God, he is unable

to believe in the importance of man and is unable to believe in
man's own immortal history of mortality, wherein man is all im-
portant as controlling agent of either felicity or sin in that very
history. The optimist is an atheist because he will not believe
realities, will not see the true nature of God. He believes in a
alse appearance which deniesman because it defeats the acceptance
z“ man's proper conduct. The worldling is an atheist for the same
asons, although for him the basic acceptance is acceptance of
rtless convention rather than acceptance of a transcendentalist's
. All these confidence-men—atheists have one denial in common:
deny man. They deny man the correct direction for the actions
sensibilities which can impose order and felicity upon history.
1e man who has the sensibilities-«the union of heart and head,

me man who can and does take action so that he can maintain

r' for the purpose of putting an end to or at least restraining

316.
the incremental crimes of history, is the story of Captain Vere,
who, in opposition to the narrator's hint, is truly the central
character of the story of Billy Budd, foretopman. In his rejec-
tion of otherworldly ideah.he is Melville's devout believer, the
doubter who outbelieves us all.

Billy himself, as the lure, is an old familiar figure. He is
the element to which Vere reacts, and as such it is important that
he is placed "in the year of the Great Mutiny." He enters the
point present of human history at a moment when order is threatened
and when felicity is absent because the whole world is at war. In
short, the man-of-war world, wmong as it is, it is all that exists;
man can either, like Pierre, renounce the world because it is wrong,
or can try to preserve order in the world so that felicity can be
obtained. Order‘pgr.§§ is not the point. It is order for a re-
conciliation of opposites, a reattainment of the felicity which in
-the character of Billy Budd is symbolized in.the non-predatory'Tyme
savage. Vere, it is stated, does not maintain order for its own
sake, but this is yet to be seen. At any rate, Billy is presented
in a world where the Articles of war and the Sermon on the Mount
are the two opposites and the two choices open to man in the uni-
versal manofwar world. Significantly, the preface to the story of
Billy brings the two choices into immediate focus: "The year 1797,
the year of this narrative, belongs to a period which as every
thinker now feels, involved a crisis for Christendom not exceeded
in its undetermined momentousness at the time by any other era

1
whereof there is record." It is interesting that the universal

317:
world is summed up in the term "Christendom," for we need not go
outside this "inside narrative" to find Melville's nonchristian
cultural relativity, or his view of Christendom (the official term)
as an appearance; within the narrative itself, the Marquesan of
the time of Captain Cook is reintroduced as the non—predatory man
who is closer to the Sermon on the Mount than to Christendomls
Articles of War. What then, is the suggestion implicit in the use
of the term Christendom? The hint lies in the use of history here:
the narrative is set in Christendomls most momentous moment. There
are a few alternatives in this suggestion, but as we shall see,
they all add up to the same thing. The alternatives suggested are
either the birth of Christ and the adoration of the Christ Baby,
the Crucifixion, or the Fall of Adam. And just as Melville uses
Typee or Saddle Meadows or Serenia to demonstrate universal points
of development, the story of human history in one of its parts, so
too in Billy Budd, Melville tells his history of humanity in a re-
working of the Christ story.

The Preface is complete in itself as the setting in which
Christ is introduced. It is a world torn between order and anarchy
as symbolized in Captain Vere and his seventy-feurs on the one
hand and the French Revolution on the other. And all the cycles of
civilization are suggested in the Preface. Man's inhumanities
have continued sins throughout history so that there is a cataclys-
mic rebellion, which, in turn results in more inhumanity. The
narrative introduces the Enlightenement, especially as articulated

in the French philosophe's school, which culminates in the natural

3139

rights theories. What the preface tells us is that in the search
for the rights of man, uncontrolled and disorderly action will
ironically result and has resulted in the denial of those very
rights-—and we have already seen this in the enthusiasms of Pierre.
It is now time to speak of responsibilities and duties as well as
rights.
The opening proposition made by the Spirit of the Age,
involved the rectification of the Old werld's hereditary
wrongs. In France to some extent this was bloodily ef-
fected. But what then? Straightway the Revolution it—
self became a wrongdoer, one more oppressive than the
kings. Under*Napoleon it enthroned upstart kings, and
initiated that prolonged agony of continual war whose
final three was waterloo. During those years not the
wisest could have foreseen that the outcome of all would
be what to some thinkers apparently it has since turned
out to be, a political advance along nearly the whole
line fbr Europeans.
In short, there is no point to saying that revolutionary violence
itself is necessarily good or bad. What is to the point is that
there are enough unanticipated consequences from.even the contrdfled
and controlling action; the consequences of uncontrolled excess and
undirected action is total chaos. So too, the mntinies in the
English navy are part of the historical cycle of action directed
wrongly against an order which had to be challenged in the first
place. "Yet in a way analogous to the operation of the Revolution
at large the Great Mutiny, though by Englishmen naturally deemed
montrous at the time, doubtless gave the first latent prompting to
the most important reforms in the BritishNavy."3 And so again in
setting up the balances of order and the Articles of war on the one
hand, and rebellion and the attempt to realize the felicity of the

Sermon on the Mount or the rights of man on the other, we find once

3190

more in the preface the basis of opposition of characters-—a basis
that at first seems mere ambiguity. Simply, the basis is this:
neither'the quester'nor the Titan nor the Satan nor the Christ nor
the lure are grggg in their beliefs and their values, and there-
fore are often presented sympathetically and are always presented
understandinglyh-the cause of many readers' confUSion between Mel-
ville and his characters. But in their non-directed or mis-dir-
ected actions, they are wrong and they smash the values and beliefs
which they<hampion in the first place. Therefore, and again,
Melville's cyclic history is hard-headedly pragmatic; it is only
the consequence of an act which can be judged, and the act and
consequence become one. The idealistic motivation or the satanic
motivation of the woeful view of truth no longer'make any difference
as far as mankind and history are concerned; in terms of the kind
of God (blank Time) against which all is juxtaposed, they no longer
make any difference at all. Melville's quarrel with man is a
quarrel about tactics, for it is in the tactics that Melville de-
fines the motivation and the goal. This method of judgment may be
hard; it may be painful. But it is the only method whereby man
in the actualities of the manofwar world may save man and attain
the proper directions. And now, with this much with which to
judge Vere, we can turn to the narrative and see how the charac-
ters develop their symbolic values.

The first view of Billy is the view of the Handsome Sailor.

The Handsome Sailor is not necessarily white and Anglo-Saxon like

320-.
Billy, but he is the universal leader of apostles, the infbrming
center whose physical and moral being sets the tone of his fol-
lowers' activity. The universality of our own particularized
Billy is introduced as the first quality in the picture of the
Negro Hansome Sailor and the ethnic makeup of his following.

...A symmetric figure much above the average height...

It was a bet noon in July; and his face, lustrous
with perspiration, beamed with barbaric good humor. In
jovial sallies right and left his white teeth flashing
into view, he rollicked along, the center of a company
of his shipmates. These were made up of such an assort-
ment of tribes and complexions as would have well fitted
them to be marched up by Anacharsis Cloots before the
bar of the first French Assembly as Representatives of
the Human Race. At each spontaneous tribute rendered by
the wayfarers to this black pagod of a fellowz-the tri-
bute of a pause and a stare, and less frequent an exp
clamation, -—the motley retinue showed that they took
that sort of pride in the evoker of it which the Assyrian
priests doubtless showed from their grand sculptured Bull
when the faithful prostrated themselves.

...Invariably a proficient in his perilous calling,
he was also more or less of a mighty boxer or wrestler.
It was strength and beauty...

The moral nature was seldom out of keeping with the
physical make. Indeed, except as toned by the former,
the comeliness and power, always attractive in masculine
conjunction hardly could have drawn the sort of honest
homage the Handsome Sailor in some examples received from
his less gifted associates.h

When we are introduced to Billy, we find that he is characterised
by barbarous good humor, by a tall, athletic, symmetric figure, by
being a good boxer, by being proficient in his calling, by being
highly moral. The general type of Handsome Sailor, then is the kind
of innocent that the most attractive savage of Typgg is, and in
fact, the mention later in the story of the non-predatory Marquesan
clinches the definition. As the Typeean, he is the primitive and

aboriginal man: the noble savage of the primitivists, with the

321s
difference, for Melville, that this ideal is £23 something for which
man at the present state of civilization, should strive. We have
not only the testimony oflgypgg, but closer to home, the testimony
of Captain Vere. The fact of the original man is the fact of Adam
and the fact of Christ, for Billy Budd is both those facts. One
part of the plot-theme emerges immediately from.this, although it is
worked out in its own terms within the story: the prelapsarian Adam
and the Christ were innocents whose morality was not for this world.
_They are the same man, and-most important-they are Egg. During
the second coming of this type, this narrative says, the type had
better not come at all as long as the world is what it is, or it had
better come in an armored car, in which farfetched.image, the type
ceases to be.

Billy is particularized within the type. "Such a cynosure, at
least in aspect, and something such too in nature, though with gay
portant variations made apparent as the story proceeds, was gglkyg-
.gygg Billy Budd, or Baby'Budd..."5 He is a leader, but the varian'
tions make him the Christ, and the wrong kind of chronometrical

leader for the horological world. The particularization is hinted in

 

the curious bit of description that this sailor is heaven-eyed, that
he is the innocent, the Baby Christ reborn for this reworking of his
life. He is not even allowed to come to earth, born back to home, to
land, in the chronometrical Sermon of the rights of man. As the
cycle set up in the Preface fereshadowed, he is immediately grabbed
up by the actualities of the manofwar world as he treads his path to

the Straight and Narrow Gate: "It was not very long prior to the time

 

 

 

322:
of the narration that follows that he had entered the King's Ser—
vice, having been impressed on the Narrow Seas from a homeward-
bound English merchantman [flamed the M _o_f 5337 into a seventy-
four outwardrbound, H.H.S. Indomitable."6 His action is the chro-
nometrical action of the man who turns the other cheek and who turns
cheerfully to all new experience with the trusting and childlike
faith of innocence. The ordinary, hardworking, and non-heroic
mortal-—the Jarl, the graveling (for Captain Graveling is his name)
whose ship of peaceful and ordinary pursuit depends upon Billy for
peace and moral stability, is robbed of peace by the actualities of
the manofwar world and its needs. "Ay, Lieutenant, you are going
to take away the jewel of 'em; you are going to take away my peace-

maker!"7

To which, the lieutenant replies with a statement that
tells all we need know of what the manofwar world will do to the
Baby of the Sermon, the welkin-eyed innocent: "Well, blessed are

the peacemakers, especially the fighting peacemakers!"8 For they,
indeed, will inherit the world, such as they can make it. The
transfer of Billy from the world to which he belongs-the world of
peace and the rights of man-is accompanied by the act of spoila-
tion. Not only is the very act of impressment symbol enough, but
the encroaching manofwar lieutenant bursts unbidden into Graveling's
cabin, unbidden takes the Captain's liquor with all the assurance of
a predatory right, and will not allow Billy to take his huge box.of
belongings with him to this other, real world, whose name is not a

mere appearance like the name of the merchantman. What Billy can

take is what Billy can carry in a manofwar's sea-bag; but as for the

323..
rest, why, "you can't take that big box aboard a warship. The

boxes there are mostly shotéboxes."

The real world manifests itself. Even beneath the appearance
of the merchantman's name, there was fighting which Billy quelled.
There is, before the story opens, therefore, an overlay of 8X9
perience that covers Billy‘s true self, but for Billy, as for Isa-
bel this experience might just as well never have been. For Billy
is Isabel, is Yillah. He is incapable of worldly subtleties. He
is alone and without family. Beneath the cover of eXperience-
beneath the seaman's tan-there is the lily and the rose. He is
the bud of Yillah's rose-flower. He is Christ in the bud. He is
"all but feminine in purityqzand7 in natural complexion...where,
thanks to his seagoing, the lily was quite suppressed and the rose
had some ado visibly to flush through the tan.“10 And in Melville's
other books, when Christ has been characterized as Christ, he has
been portrayed as all but feminine, as the feminine emblem.of heart,
whose enthusiasms and woes and exterior symbolization in the femi-
nine lure have prompted the Tajis and the Pierres. And like the
primitive pure man, Billy has not had a view of woe: "no merrier'man
in his mess..."ll He has never encountered the crucifixion of in-
nocence-—or, to continue the feminine metaphor—-the rape of innocence
which is the heart-hardening and murderamaking Satanism.of the man
of sorrows who has seen the truth of man's position and who finally
turns to rejection of man and man's joy and man's possible purity and
bliss. For the man of sorrows, by the time we meet him in Claggart,
has nothing but hatred in the misdirected insanity which is the

result of his woe. The allegory of Billy as Adam and as Christ and

324¢
of Claggart as Satan and the anti-Christ is elear enough in the

narrative's imagery. Claggart is the Spoiler, and Billy is "as
Adamrpresumably'might have'been ere the urbane Serpent wriggled
himself into his company."12

But what are we to make of Billy Budd as both Adam and Christ?
And as Isabel and Yillah? Actually, these associations suggested
by the characterization do not partake as much of the free-associa-
tion aesthetics of insanity as might be supposed. The allusiveness
does not exist simply for the sake of its own complexity. For,
when we remember what it is that is taken for granted in Billy Budd,
when we remember that all actions and values are man—made and
earthly, it becomes easier to see that either through innocence or
choice, Adam, Christ, Isabel, and Yillah are one: are all mortals,
in Melville's terms, whose mortal history as man has been mysti-
cized with fable associated with otherworldly origins. And Billy
Budd follows the same pattern. His unknown mother was one "eminent-
ly favored by Love and the Graces" and-who is his father? ‘Well,
”God knows, Sir."13 And there is his famous stutter-Alike the other '

lures, he cannot communicate realities. And when we recall the ideas

involved in what Billy Budd takes for granted, we recall the lesson

 

that Babbalanja and Media learned.and the lesson that the reader of
.gigggg learned: that men are children of Time only as living pheno-
mena created and killed by the cycles of death, rot, and rebirth.

That in the motifs of origins, democracy, equality, and brotherhood,

men are the children of men and that "the whole world is the patrimony

325 c
of the whole world." Indeed, we have seen that Christ and Satan,
idealist and deceitful murderer, are all parts of man, as symbol-
ized by the quester. What remains fer this study is to determine
who the man is that is at once father and son of Billy, father and
son of Claggart——that is, who is the central character who makes
the choice oftdirection to which all the inherent universal possi-

bilities must be subordinated. Up to Billy Budd this central

 

character has been the quester. But now, when we meet Captain
Vere, we find quite another being.

Captain the Henorable Edward Fairfax Vere is a man whose exp
perience has not been lost in innocence, nor yet in cynicism which
makes the inactive Dansker another Plinlimmon. The Dansker can see
through the metaphysical fog that surrounds the necessities of
action—~he is called old Board—her-in-the-smoke. He has learned
the truth, but his consequent misdirected action is a development
of noncommunicative cynicism which will only hint at murder, yet
which, in the last analysis, allows the murder to take place none—
theless. But Vere is of another breed. [He is totally active. He
will not delay in making decisions,-even when the decision is
totally painful and when he could wait just a few days to dump the
entire problem in the lap of a superior officer. But neither is
he the enthusiast in his unswerving and instant response to duty.
Totally aware that any act has historical consequences, he does not
subordinate reflection to bravery-bravery, which Melville said,

is the one characteristic that man shares with beasts

326.
of the field. Vere is "thoroughly versed in the science of his
profession, and intrepid to the verge of temerity, though never
injudiciously so."lh

Moreover, his experience has resulted in something which is
the View of woe.f Neither innocently mirthful like Billy, nor
cynical like the Dansker, he is promiently and predominantly seri-
ous. Having guessed at the reality of man's and God's cosmic
status, neither does his seriousness become the monomaniacal hatred
and despair that characterizes Claggart; for in his realis m, Vere
is honestfito the point of rejecting the pretentious Titanism.of the
quester. Here is one man who sees and who is not the confidence-
man. Unlike Ahab who becomes the one man who drives and runs the
ship, even to the point of being hoisted up to the masthead for the
first view of the whale, Vere is the administrator who can allow
his subordinates to take over routine affairs no matter how symbolic
the affair may be for him. It is conceivable to picture Ahab as
either singlehandedly exonerating Billy or personally hanging him.
without attempting to uphold the forms of delegated authority and
without attempting to educate the delegates. It is inconceivable to
picture Vere doing either.

So far, Vere is the man of insight and the physical m an. But
he is also the man of heart. He is the man who can stare dreamily
out at the cosmos and who can weep over Billy.

As with some others engaged in various departments of
the world's more heroic activities, Captain Vere though
practical enough upon occasion would at times betray a
certain dreaminess of mood. Standing alone on the weather-

side of the quarter-deck, one hand holding by the rigging
he would absently gaze off at the blank sea. At the

3271
presentation.to him then of some minor matter interrupt-
ing the current of his thoughts he would show more or
less irrascibility; but instantly he would control it.15

By this time both the reader and Captain Vere know what the blank
sea is. Both the reader and Vere know what thoughts absorb Vere
as he stares. But this is not Pierre or Taji or Ahab. This man
sees himself as the captain of this small bit of manofwar mortality,
the only life there is for man, in the eternal and immortal imv
mensity of the sea and Time. And Vere will preserve the mortality
he directs. He does not go insane as does poor, weak Pip. Rather
he channels his thought and makes earth's needs paramount—-and
turns to the minor’matter of importance. Vere, then, is man of
action, heart and mind; his experience includes a knowledge and
understanding of history, which he views empirically and pragmati-
cally: "...his bias was toward those books to which every serious
mind of superior order occupying any active post of authority in
the world, naturally inclines; books treating of actual men and
events no matter of what era--history, biography and unconventional
writers, who, free from cant and convention, like Montaigne, hon-
estly, and in the Spirit of common sense philosophize upon reali-
ties."l6 Coupled with a mindful and heartful rejection of the meme
appearances of conventional life, is a time-sense which sees all
time as the same, all aspects of histony equatable in the inevita-
ble passage of time. "In illustrating of any point touching the
stirring personages and events of the time he would be as apt to
cite some historic character or incident of antiquity as that he
would cite from the moderns. He seemed unmindful of the circumr

stance that to his bluff company such remote allusions however

329.
pertinent they might be were altogether alien to men whose reading
was mainly confined to the journals."17 Set off from the rest of
humanity as a man of superior insight and power, Vere never passes
from.the way of understanding. The direction of his actions is all
earth-centered, and his superior qualities do not exist for person-
al wealth and health as with the early Media. In brief, his entire
rationale for being, and his entire use of his superior qualities
are based upon the final characteristic necessany for the complete
man: his goal is the betterment of the race and the communal at-
tainment of earthly felicity. Goal and tactics, like form.snd
content, are merged at last. He is not an exponent of order and
an opponent of the French revolution for'the selfish reasons of
personal and class status. No, for "while other members of that
aristocracy to which by birth he belonged were incensed at the in-
novators mainly because their theories were inimical to the privi-
leged classes, not alone Captain Vere disinterestedly Opposed them
because they seemed to him incapable of embodiment in lasting ins
stitutions, but at war with the peace of the world and the true
welfare of mankind."18

As we turn to the centrality of Vere as character, we find
that there is one more aspect of the complete man, an aspect as yet
not hinted before in the other works. The complete man, dedicated
to the work informed by his selfless goal, becomes, paradoxically,
limited to self. Vere can never unburden his soul to others. He
must drive his ship, like Ahab, with secret motive. Just as he

knows when and how to delegate authority, he is also aware of the

330..
limitations of delegation. Like Ahab, he is a dedicated man, but
of course dedicated to preservation rather than destruction. It is
the dedication which limits and, as it were, Sterilizes the com,
plete man just as it does the quester. He must bear within himself
all the tortures of choice and yet present to the ship's people a
demeanor of calm decision. His focal realization is that as he
goes, so goes the world-always, though, within the limits of the
world's moment of history which shapes him. For in Billy Budd too,
it is the time that informs the man and forces him to control (or
continue the anarchy of) the history to which he is born. Again,
there is no one beginning, no one end. It is the completeness of
Vere that he realizes this and dedicates himself to the control of
his world and history within the limits of the only operative
course of action open to him—~the necessities of the Articles of
‘War in his world and time.19 Therefore, Vere is limited to himself
The very real job of guiding his world will allow neither idealism
nor the romanticist's democracy nor the 18th century natural rights.
theory of individualism.and equalitarian.democraqy in termsu of
political control. His surface must be a disguise of the tensions
which tear the inner man, and the inner man is sacrificed to the
necessities of the appearance. The cost of correct action is a
frightful one. But it is a necessary cost if the anarchy of ideal-
ism.or'the anarchy of blindness is to be avoided. For’Vere must be
all work and no play. Indeed, until such time as the world "gre-
gariously" advances to the state wherein chronometricals are possi-

ble, those chronometricals will prove murderous. It is germane to

331..
this point that Vere is a bachelor. ‘The man who is "Starry" and
holds within him an almost superhuman guiding principle which
tends to destroy the holder, must, if he is the complete man for
social leadership, also be Vere-—the man who recognizes truth and
acts according to his recognitions without ever disclosing the
shock of recognition. This complete man, again, until society has
advanced to the point where his kind of sacrifice, as Opposed to
Pierre's kind of sacrifice, is no longer necessary is incomplete
in his very completion. He must feed upon himself. He cannot re-
generate, he can only reinform. He can not indulge in the warmth
of human domesticity if he is to be dedicated to the preservation
of earthly felicity and "the true welfare of mankind." 'In short,
unmarried except to his duty, he can leave no heir to carry on his
heritage, the one complete heritage so far seen. The result as

seen in Billy Budd is what Robert Penn warren has concluded from a

 

study of Melville's poetry. That nature is time and cycle, that

all continues again, that history, as time, is redemption as well
as fate, and that the lessons are lost and only dim myths of the

physical struggle remain. In short that meliorism is trapped in

determinism just as determinism is trapped in meliorism.

In the interview with Billy Budd after the Handsome Sailor has
been condemned to death, Vere emerges as the truly central charac-
ter. Within himself, Vere the inner man is also partly Billy Budd
insofar as he too feels the human warmth, simplicity, and innocence
which he must denyL-there is the primeval beneath the brass buttons.

In the fact that Vere must deny this self is the rejection of the

332‘
AdamsChrist as wrongly oriented humans, and in this is the reitera-
tion of pree's rejection of Typee as well as the explanation of
why Billy-Adam-Christ is presented in imagery that creates the
figure of the primitivist's noble savage. That the primitive type
of AdameChrist is wrongly oriented just because it symbolizes all
the highest ideal beauties and virtues of human possibility is the
realization that breaks Vere's heart. Those beauties and virtues
are in themselves not at all wrong, just as in absolute justice
Billy himself is not at all guilty. It is just that the w orld is
not yet ready to follow the lead of that type because, ironically,
the world has already left that type far behind. The huge paradox
is that the only way to approach the felicity the type represents
is not by following the type but by following an order which deals
with the world as it is. The primeval Vere is both father and son
of Budd.

At the same time, Claggart is also part of Vere, for while
those two men are opposite polarities both in direction and action,
they are the same in their view of woe and in the realization of
the all too inhuman necessity for guise. That the two men are op-
posite in direction needs no clearer emphasis than that given in
Claggart's interview with Vere. Claggart well knows the ways of
the world, for in his Satanism he perpetuates the anarchy and murb
der of history which makes the world. He is urbane, total ly dis-
guised, and unctuous.; Vere, however, will not settle for appear- ~
ances exterior to his own, for his own position demands the con-

stant, neverbrelenting, sterilizing hold of realities. When

333 o.

Claggart tries to play to appearances, softening, he thinks, Vere's
disposition by refusing to refer'directly to the practice of the
pressgangs, then "at this point Captain Vere with some impatience,
interrupted him:
21

MBe direct, man; say impressed men'." ‘
In effect, Claggart too cannot tolerate appearances exterior to his
own. It is for this reason that he hates Billy Budd. He is the
disinherited Lucifer, the man who has seen the cause for woe, and
who like Ahab allows it to drive him into insanity, an.insanity
whose direction is the opposite of Pip's, which also stemmed from
the same view; Like Pierre, he finally hates mankind because it
lives in appearances, and like Pierre he comes to see the Christ
figure as the bad angel who leads all men to the hugest lie. On the
one hand, this man of sorrows wistfully wishes that the primitive
type could be, that it were an operative reality, and like Ahab in
his soft moments with Pip, he stares longingly, yearningly, lovingly
at the figure of Billy Budd. But the monomania closes over all.
The LuciferhTitan who would replace God hates the Christ-figure who
would lead men to believe in the lie of a God which is not the Time
with which the Titan can never be coequal. But unlike Vere, who mud;
also kill the disorientation offered by the Christ-primitive in
order to replace it with.aperative conduct for man, Claggart would
kill because his monomania, like Pierre's, at the height of dis-
illusion will destroy the lie with no alternative to replace it.
Claggart too, is a neuter, belonging to no world. He is alone, iso-

lated from the men; and he has no God. ‘We have seen Claggart enough

331;.
in Taji and in Pierre to realize what he is when we relegate him
to the single faceted confidence man who is the quester turned
Satan. But as for killing Billy, not only the theme but the words
of Vere himself say that intention is beside the point. Vere, like
Claggart, must Confront Baby Budd with an ultimate rejection.
Pragmatically, in terms of action, Claggart too is part of Vere.
'With the view of Claggart and Billy as externalizations of the
primeval elements of man within Vere, who controls those elements
for his own successful action, we see the reason for Vere's torment
in his interview with Billy.

He was old enough to have been Billy‘s father. The
austere devotee of military duty letting himself melt
back into what remains primeval in our formalized humani-
ty [for Vere, "forms, measured forms" are everything7 may
in the end have caught Billy to his heart even as Abraham
may have caught young Isaac on the brink of resolutely
offering him up in obedience to the exacting behest.

But there is no telling the sacrament, seldom if in any
case revealed to the gadding world wherever under cir-
cumstances at all akin to those here attempted to be set
forth two of great Nature's nobler order embrace. There
is privacy at the time, inviolable to the survivor, and

. holy oblivion the sequel to each diviner magnanimity,
providentially covers all at last.

The first to encounter Captain Vere in act of leav-
ing the compartment was the senior Lieutenant. The face
he beheld, for the moment one expressive of the agony of
the strong, was to that officer, though a man of fifty,

a startling revelation. That the condemned one suffered-
less than he who mainly had effected the condemnation
was apparently indicated...22

Vere knows that he is sacrificing Budd.to Claggart on the one hand,
for'in the death sentence the man of sorrows succeeds in his ine
dictment of Christ. On the other hand, he is sacrificing Budd to
the measured forms that Vere realizes must take precedence over

"what remains primeval." In the total picture wherein all the

.335.

emblems of otherwordly allegory are really segments of this
world and this world only, when Claggart succeeds in getting
Budd killed, the quester-Titan-Satan kills part of the world and
part of self. Obversely, when Budd kills Claggart, the Adam-
Christ-primitive kills part of world and self. And when Vere,
who encompasses both, sacrifices Billy, he sacrifices part of
the world and part of self. Thematically, vere is the one major
central character whose choices are reactivated by the two ex-
ternalized polarities of Claggart and.Budd, polarities who be-
come one in the results of their action. And just as this
duality becomes a unity. so does the duality of Vere's action.
Vere and Claggart and Budd.kill for completely different reasons.
But the intention makes no difference. The result is the kill—
ing. Vere's action. however, differs from Claggart's. Vere
takes precautions, Vere forearms himself against the possible
mutinous effects of his action. Realizing that intentions make
no difference, Vere attempts--and succeeds-~to prevent an unan-
ticipated, or at least undesired result of his act. Claggart
met the unanticipated consequence of Billy's fist--his monomania
prevented the weighing of consequences that characterizes Vere's
every move and.thought. So Claggart’s prudence and guise,
adopted.for the wrong purposes, would result only in chaos and
the dumping of the problem in the lap of the admiral were Vere
not present. In this is the note of affirmation that Melville
strikes finally, in this last book just before his death. What

before was a symbolic implication is now'a symbolic construct.

336.
That though intentions make no difference in the consequences of
an act, the direction of thought which forms the intentions cre—
ate a different kind of act which, in its administration, brings
different consequences. The whole problem is tactical and ad-
ministrative, and Vere is noticeably the supreme administrator.
If man can ever find a.personalized.and interested God, it is
the administrator, the earthly man. And as God and thus as man,
Vere encompasses within him all the characteristics of the sym-
bols he Judges. Placed in a relationship to Billy, which is a
hint of the relationship of Father to Son, Vere's murder is not
a vengeful act of grief-hate, but is the father's sacrifice of
the Billy Christ Budd son in order that mankind and society may
be perpetuated. Man necessarily kills Christ for man's own
good, so that the death may bring a redemptive Paradise on earth.
God (not Time), Christ, Satan, Titan—-all man. None of these
values inheres in the blank white zero which is the true God,
Time. To return for a moment to Vere's insight into Chronomet~
ricals and Horologicals, the entire paradox is again summed up
in unchristian terms; it is not the death of Christ as such
which is the symbol of redemption and resurrection to another
world; it is rather the removal of Christ from world so that man
will not be hindered in the attainment of the only paradise,
resurrection and redemption possible for man, the earthly felic-
ity of man on earth in history. Fbr if Billy, in the chronomet—
rical act of killing Claggart were allowed to set the example

for the world, the effect would be a tacit permission for mutiny,

337,
for individualistic anarchy which brings chaos again.

Billy Budd within itself offers all the elements of the

 

apposition of order versus rebellion, of Christ versus Satan,
and shows man—God choosing action in terms of the opposition.
The story stands within itself. But the "why" of the story is
unexplained in this narrative, which by itself is truly an "in-
side narrative." The outside explanation lies in the totality
of Melville's theme, part of which is the definition of God. As
suggested before, it is this key definition which is taken for
granted, for in this inside narrative we simply have the naming
of the symbol without the working of it-—the blank sea at which
Vere gazes is never related to a meaning. Thus, in one sense,
the story by itself is incomplete just as is the capital of a
column by itself. We are given all we need know about the
necessity for Vere's actions, but we are never really told why
God (not man) cannot handle the problem of Christ. In 3355:
EEEELthe problem is solved.by the definition of the manofwar
world in which Christ exists. But the largest totality of mean-
ing, the centering of all on earth because there is no valuative
or interested God, is only an implication of the definition of
the manofwar world. It is an implication which is an infusion
of meaning from the entire Melvillean theme.

With the creation of the hero who rejects the false way and
who passes not from the way of understanding, Melville came as

close as he could come to tragedy. However, neither Billy Budd

 

nor the total structure of'helville's works constitutes tragedy.

338.
The absolute of Time against which the action is placed has in
itself no value which is destroyed or strengthened by man's
actions. .In the facts of his world, the manofwar world, Hel-
ville could not find the positive absolute which constitutes the
China Wall of tragedy--the final resting place where peace
reigns in the resolution of tensions that is effected in the
purged and reinformed society. That the lessons are lost and
that the cycle continues all over again is evident in three "di-
gressions" tacked on to the end of the "inside" narrative.23
The first is the section wherein Vere is killed by The Atheists.
The Atheists itself continues the wrongs of history, for it
takes over from a name which is reminiscent of Isabel's mother
and her “otherworldly” origins-~this French ship had formerly
been the §£. E2213. The wrongs of the prerevolutionary nation
are translated into the wrongs of the postrevolutionary nation--
one kind of Atheist becomes another Atheist under new name and
management. 30 those who in their blindness or enthusiasm deny
man and the fipeace of the world and the true welfare of mankind"
are those who kill Vere. The paradox is that the seamen of
France kill the man whose goals are identical with those for
which the tactically misdirected French revolution had been
fought. No final_resolution has been effected, for the nature
of the world has not been changed. As suggested above, Vere can
reinform so that reformation may be possible, but he himself,
limited by his history, cannot regenerate. In this, Melville's God—

Man is less true to tragedy wherein the Athena can come down

339‘.

from the otherworld with Operative values for man; but he is
more true to the total theme and to Melville's view of his own
society. When Billy had ascended the mast, calling "God bless
Captain Vere!" he was making the final and only clear announce-
ment of his chronometrical soul and the standards by which he
lived. He is the Christ who still turns the other cheek to the
manofwar world. And Vere, while always recognizing that Billy
offered behavior that must be killed that society may be pre—
served, at the same time always recognized the ideal, absolute
superiority of Billy's humanity--we can never forget the aspect
of Vere that is Starry and that gazes at the sea. It is this
that is Vere's torment, and "At the pronounced words and the
spontaneous echo that voluminously rebounded them, Captain Vere,
either through stoic self—control or a sort of momentary paraly-
sis induced by emotional shock, stood rigidly erect as a musket
in the ship-armorer's rack."24 Here even the simile works. At
the moment of killing what is ideally the best part of man, Vere
is given the final and heartbreaking view of that perfection.
His reaction is both_emotional shock and self control. On the
one hand he has his clearest perception of Just what it is he
kills-~Christ's forgiveness and benediction for his murderers-o
and at the same time realizes that if he had to, he would do it
all over again; he becomes the appearance not of the primal
thing inside him, but of the gun, the emblem of the world he
preserves. The cycle here becomes endless. Had Billy lived,

all the other books tell what happens to the man who follows the

340-

Christ-way. At the very least, the door would have been left
Open to chaos, and the measured forms by which mankind lives
would have been smashed. And as we have seen in Efiféis the quest
and the lure and the revengers would chase each other endlessly
through the eternity of history. When Billy dies, the very
ideal to which the measured forms must be made to attain in the
some-day, is removed from life so that the cycles of incremental
sins of what can only be a manofwar world still continue. When
Vere dies, he calls his ideal, his Christ. Removed finally from
the pressures of control, from the self-devouring and self-
killing sterility of command, he would relax into the something
primeval within him and rejoin the perfection and absolute of
Christ. He calls, "Billy Budd, Billy Budd." And his call is an
exhortation.
That these were not the accents of remorse, would seem
clear from what the attendant said to the Indomita-
blgls senior officer of marines who as the most reluc-
tant to condemn of the members of the drumhead court,
too well knew though here he kept the knowledge to
himself, who Billy Budd was.
This last quotation is the only real ambiguity in Melville's
works. 0n the one hand we have a picture of the officer of
marines as a good and heartful man but without the intellection
and insight of Vere. There is the possible irony that this of-
ficer does not at all know Billy Budd's identity any more than
Millthorpe knew'Plinlimmon or Pierre. Or there is the other
possibility that in his heartfulness, as the man "most reluctant

to condemn" this officer did recognize Christ and is in embryo

341-
the enthusiastic quester. In this case too, the cycle would be
repeated, for Vere,who put an end to the delusion and.murder by
the quester, leaves behind the man who might act like the quest-
er and who would act according to the chronometricals of an
uninformed heart. In any case, both are probably intended, for
the net result is the final irony that it is a military officer
who bears the memory of the chaos~bringing and primal perfection
of Christ.

The second "digression" is made up of the conversation of
the Purser and the Surgeon, and of the ballad of “Billy in the
Barbies.”

Neither the Purser nor the Surgeon are the men to explain
what happened at Billy's execution. The Purser is a ruddy and
rotund little accountant of a man who in a few words is pictured
as a man of no mind, insight or imagination. The Surgeon is
totally unimaginative, being able to explain phenomena only in
the measurable quantities of the test-tube, and avoiding all the
very real problems which he can not explain. These two men tell
the reader that Billy did not die as hanged men always die.
There was no spasmodic movement of the corpse. For neither of
these men can Billy be a symbol, be anything but a corpse, and
it is in the irony of presenting this aspect of Billy's death
through the eyes of two such.men, that the suggestion is estab-
lished that Billy is 1321 Just a corpse, that he may not be a
corpse at all. The meaning of this suggestion is clinched in

the ballad. Members of the Indomitable's crew revere Billy's

 

342.

memory, and follow the progress of the yard on which Billy was
hung, for I'to them a chip of it was as a piece of the Cross."25
Billy’s memory is perpetuated in a "Bible," a myth, a hymn,
which is narrated from the first person position of Billy. The
ballad seems to be taking place in Billy's mind in the darbies,
or chains, Just before the execution. But the last two sentences
bring the shock of realizing that this is the voice of the dead
man in the deep-~still talking, dormant, waiting.
...Sentry, are you there?

Just ease these darbies at the wrist,

And roll me over fair.

I am sleepy, and the cozy weeds about me twist.27
Simply, Billy as symbol never died. The lure, the primitive per-
fection, the Adam-Christ chronometrical being still waits in the
deeps of human history and experience, mired by theoozy weeds
of the events of the man-of~war world. But he is there in every
man, waiting to spring like the tiger, to re—emerge so that the
quester follows, so that the Satan springs at his throat, so that
the worldling is deceived, and the cycle continues...and contin-
ues...and continues.

The third “digression" is the newspaper account which ap-

pears in an authorized.naval chronicle of the time. The account

 

reports the official version, in which Claggart is the good but
wronged man, wherein Billy is the villain, and the appearances
are preserved. There is even an inversion of origins in the
account. Claggart, the “foreign" man,is pictured as the true
Englishman, and Budd, the true Anglo-Saxon, is suspected of

being the foreigner. . The official account

343,

could never admit that the strong arm of orderbenforcement itself
can admit of inverted order, that the officer could be the vil—
lain and the impressed man the saint. The preservation of offi-
cial appearances in the newspaper account is a mindless thing
which smacks of cast and hagurocracy, and which carries with it
none of the true motives for Vere's siding with.official law,
motives which are shared by not all of his aristocratic class.

In short, the uninformed administrator is no God. He is as much

 

a perpetuator of the wrongs of history as the Christ and the
Satan. Simply, he removes meaning from events and turns history
into Beaurocracy. The myth remains, the lesson is lost, and the
true here, the complete man cannot advance to earthly felicity un-
less and until his entire race advances with him. The isolato
cannot succeed, and the mass-man cannot succeed until the mass it-
self is reinformed.

This last book is not an "acceptance" either of God or expe-
diency for its own sake. It accepts what all the books before it
accepted: that the society is the detenminant of history, that
man.is his own creator and his own killer. Melville was not able
to deduce a Utopia from the facts of his times, and therefore
could not create a Captain Vere who was in charge of not one ship
but of all societyh-for having created the proper leader in that
case he would have had to create the picture of "the good soci-
ety"-—a task for which, in his history and his realism, Melville
was not yet ready. As an artist he was too honest a liar, too

strong a thinker, too much immersed in the destructive element of

«31.1...
reflection on truth to create a shallow happy ending of the re-
formed and universal society which would be a deception to the
facts of his world and time.

In creating an image of his society, Melville acted as the
nonedelonic Satan to man. He created the uncreated conscience of
his race. His creation. his dualities, can be summed.up in the
finality of 91.12.; M. Vere, killed by the Atheist; is killed
by the denier of manis possibilities. It is only in striving’for
the earthly attainment of mania possibilities that(Vere's tactics
in removing Budd take on the widest significance of tragic stat-
ure. but the pathos cannot. by definition of the book's the-e.
become tragedyt) To deny the divinity, the limitless aspirations
in.lan, is to deny'man himself. and this denial is atheism. But
as Vere shows, and as the painful experience of the other book:
shows, man must remember that the heaven is within him in this
world of his own making, and must allow chronometricals only as
they'can be Operatively'manifested.on earth, Man must forget the
otherworld. for he cannot conquer or explain the killing-creating
made by the zero of Eternity. Man must cease calling for sisal
actions which are compatible with an otherworld that does not
exist and which is but a.proJection of man's own highest, earthly
aspirations. Man must step measuring his gpod and bad by the part
of his mind for which he has not yet prepared an earthly home and
toward which his earthly home must strive by earthly means.
Otherwise, man deludes himself with his ideal vision of himself.

which he calls God, and either finds it so unattainable that he

345-.
becomes the Claggart or the Hautia, or in the disillusion he lets
the world go its own shallow and murderous way, lilos Plinlimon,
or else he follows the ideal and kills the world, like Taji and
Ahab and Pierre. Man, then, must have heaven on earth as his
visionary goal in order to give integral meaning to his actions
which must be tactically Operative in the world as it is. And
only the complete man can encompass both the aspiring goal and
the expedient and order-preserving actions, can encompass both
the true view of woe—the view of the bit of manofwar surrounded
by an eternal and indifferent and infinite blanlcness—and the
strength not to let the woe drive him to madness. It is only
this an who can lead Jarl and Samoa and Lucy anl Starbuck and
Bulkington through the correct courses of conscious and heartfelt
action no matter how official those actions may appear to be. It
is this prescription. together with the single unity of the Time
zero which puts forth the face of all the infinite sets of ap-
pearances in phenomena that account for the dualities and 'ambi-
guities,' in all their modifications, in the enormous world

created by Herman Melville.

345..
became the Claggart or the Hautia, or in the disillusion he lets
the world go its own shallow and murderous way, like Plinlimon,
or else he follows the ideal and kills the world. like TaJi and
Ahab and Pierre. Han, then, must have heaven on earth as his
visionary goal in order to give integral meaning to his actions
which must be tactically operative in the world as it is. And
only the complete man can encompass both the aspiring goal and
the expedient and order-preserving actions, can encompass both
the true view of woe—the view of the bit of manofwar surrounded
by an eternal and indifferent and infinite blanknessnand the
strength not to let the woe drive him to madness. It is only
this an who can lead Jarl and Samoa and Lucy ad Starbuck and
Bulkington through the correct courses of conscious ad heartfelt
action no matter how official those actions may appear to be. It
is this prescription. together with the single unity of the Time
sero which puts forth the face of all the infinite sets of ap-
pearances in phenomena that account for the dualities and "ambi-
gdties." in all their modifications. in the enormous world

created by Herman Melville.

346.

NOTES

1. mw 805. 'me text used for this study is the Modern
1.92:3“? edition, w m _o_f Herman Melville, lNew York,
2. Egg, 805.
3. _B_u_<_i_cl, 805.
1.. 13319., 807-809.
5. @333, 809.
6. $133, 809.
7. _B_g_c_1_c_l., 812.
8. 3333913,, 812.
9. Rudd; 813.
10.3333, 815.
11.9333, 811..
12.2313, 817.
13.393, 816.
14.2993, 826.
15.§_LLd_g, 826.
l6.§_l_1§1_gl_, 828.
17.B_ud_o_c_1_, 829.
18.3339, 828.
19. Although it does not quite see Vere as the Complete Man, Wendell
Glick's article, "Expediency and Absolute Morality in Billy Budd,"
& IXVII (1953), 103-110, gives a fine presentation of the choices

Open to Vere.

20. "Melville the Poet," Kenyon 3;, VIII (191.6), 208-223.
21s Bildd, 860s

347.

22s Budd, 885.

23. he "digressions" are grouped according to thematic
relationship rather than according to occurrence in the story. (After
the "digressions" of the conversation between the Purser and the Surgeon,
and the sea-burial of Billy, the narrator goes on to say that the

further "digressions" of the sequel to the story can be told in three
additional short chapters.)

21.. Budd, 891..
25s BUdd, 900.
26. Budd, 902.

27. Budd, 903.

CONCLUSION

When Billy Budd and Master-at-arms Claggart stand staring at
each other in the undisguised shock of recognition, staring while
Captain Vere himself becomes the instantaneously informed specta-
tor. the narrator presents a tableau that serves as an epiphany
for the reader. In this case the epiphany is noticeable because
the tableau is obvious. But when the reader thinks back to the
image ofrBilly, gleaming white, in the darbies, thinks back to
the pine tree or the Memnon Stone that Pierre apostr0phizes,
thinks back to Hautia's cave. he begins to perceive a pattern of
symbolism. It becomes more and more clear that almost every one
of Melville's symbols is an epiphany; that the symbol generally
is not limited to a single motif. Because it is the duality of
appearance-reality that almost singlehandedly creates the unified
duality of Melville's symbolic structure. almost every symbol, in
the context of its presentation. is itself a creation that encom-
passes the totality of theme. Perhaps the cause-and-effect of
this last sentence should appear in reverse order. for the symbol:-

deterllining theme of Melville's approach can only be apprehended

31.9.

by the critic from the theme-determining symbol of the reader's
approach. And as critic. the reader discovers that the symbolic
progression of Melville's theme is paced by a series of epipha-
nies that double and redouble themselves because of the almost
unbelievably rich reflexiveness of Melville's language. In short.
when the reader looks back at almost any single one of Melville's
necessarily symbolic epiphanies. he realises that it did not
exist as a determinant of this or that motif or as a precursor of
a more complex symbol that embraces further levels of meaning.

He begins to realise that he cannot discuss that symbol complete-
ly without discussing the entire book. for most writers the
bread-end-butter symbols are sunmed up in a few “capping“ symbols
which are then pointed to as the examples of the author's control
and artistry. With Melville. almost every symbol is the ”cap-
ping" creature of epiphany, and phi; is the stuff of Melville's
artistry--an artistry and a control which should place and is
placing this American's name with the first rank of artists of
all time and place.

Melville's epiphanies. furthermore, are not confined to any
one section. any one symbol. The very circular structure of the
books makes each one of them a gigantic epiphany. £933: 133;... for
instance, in its entirety, is one huge frozen moment that is an
instantaneous and total revelation of all aspects of the quest.
Just as the book is filled with the frozen moment of self revela-
tien. noticeable especially in the conversations of the lesser

men and in the soliloquies and interior thoughts of the greater

3500
men. the book itself. from the Opening presentation of Ishmael's

predisposition to the closing chapter on the destruction of the
world. is the quest's own self-revelation. ‘Vhat happens is that
Melville's basic technique becomes the technique of the comic
artist. This is not to say that the tragic artist does not also
proceed by the comic technique of self-revelation's frozen moment.
But tragedy presents man's flaws in order to introduce a force
which nullifies the flaws. informs the community, and which. in
the informing and purging resolution, puts an end to the cyclic
increments of consequent historical sin. Tragedy is basically
optimistic. Melville presents man's flaws to expose the sins of
history and the facts of society. but the very force which nulli-
fies flaws-~the sero of Time-~is the force that is indifferent to
the continuing cycles of crime and error. In.uelville's books.
the ggmmunitz;never learns the lesson which tragedy makes into a
social and universal affirmation by means of the education, pur-
gation, and destruction of the flaw-holding'protagonist. As sugb
gested earlier. Melville's books. regardless of what their
author's intent might have been, are creations of form that merges
theme‘with structure rather than with the demands of tragedy.
Helville did not write tragedy; Melville was not a tragic artist.
The word “programmatic" is hardly ever associated with tragb
edy: it is perhaps a.word that by its very nature is excluded
m. tragedy. Yet in order to write tragedy. what Melville
needed was a program. For in Melville's world, the hero that the

complete man is. is not big enough or strong enough to stem the

351-
whelming tides of history by himself. Melville's anti-individu-

alism, his anti heroes-and-hero-worship become clear enough in
his books. In Melville's world there can be no 513% 1; machine,
for the fact of the God which is the very basis for men's commu-
nal brotherhood consistently throws the problem of "gregarious"
advancement and resolution right back to earth to be solved by
mortal means. Pragmatically and realistically looking at the
very unprogrammatic and anarchic society of man, Melville makes
thematic statements about the nature of man. The nature of nan
becomes an unprogrsmmatic and anarchic thing, led by blindness or
idealistic enthusiasms, all of which amount to constant. cyclic
deception leading to further unprogramatic anarchy. So that
whereas mankind's communal. gregarious advancement comes to de-
pend upon communal. gregarious insight. heart and progam, that
very advancement becomes impossible. For traady, Melville des-
perately needed a program which could have been the needed savior,
the needed positive absolute (rather than the valueless absolute
of Time) against which action could have been postulated. Yet a
savior-program injected at the end of the works would cut the
beautiful unity of the books to pieces; in terms of the books,
such an inJection would have been a false imposition of order. a
sham. And viewing the history and nature of. man as he did. Mel-
ville intellectually and emotionally was unable to accept a pro-
gram as the informing theme. For considering Melville's view, a
program would have been realistically incompatible with the facts

of his world.

352.

Melville's view of the facts of his world demanded then the
very'theme (looking at this from the artist's point of view) that
informed the zero-circle structure that in turn informed the
technique of what is fundamentally the comic epiphany; It is
hardly necessary to add that Melville's techniggg of comedy is
not comedy. for. simply, his books are not funny--although (and
this is a'big I'although") if one feels as ironic as the irony of
the epiphanies. there is an edge of dark laughter in one's sight
of poor Pierre so fervently exhorting the Mennon Stone. Mel-
ville's books are not comfortable. The reader can feel neither
immune to or superior to the plight of the protagonists. Us can
not find the reason for Melville's view of the facts of his world
by saying that his was a comic technique. for that was a symptom
and not a cause.

Perhaps the reasons for Melville's technique and form are
found in the theme. 'What Melville saw was that sight which is
modern man's view of woe. lhat he saw is that there is no ideal
societal position, for as the specific facts of society change.
the ideals change, and the consequences of acts change. There is
no China‘iall. for ever the frozen but teeming north sends forth
new hordes of truth-ano sooner are the decks scrubbed clean of
the reamine of the first whale. than the cry of "There she blows!"
goes up and the weary'Anacharsis Cloots expedition rushes forth
to confront the new wonder from the deeps of history. In Mel-
ville's world, history is changeless in the newness of her won-

ders, all of them, because of the changeless nature of man, being

353.
necessarily newly discovered and boiled out by every generation.

The standard of the Judgment and insight that informs action. ad
which therefore affects history. is to be found only in the facts
of the given, point-present society. The standard cannot conform
to a traditional ideal. primitivistic or theological. because
even though the ideal implies a similar goal (earthly or heavenly
felicity. of which the possibility of the latter is removed in
Melville's world) and even though the ideal implies a changeless-
ness of man's reaction to his world and his history, the facts of
society change. Simply. Typee will not work for the west. the
west will not work for Typee. They murder each other and spoil
where they do not mm‘der. Melville's ”visible past" is today's
concept of "usable past.“ ‘

Perhaps then we can depart from theme and find the reasons
for Melville's technique. And perhaps we must depart from theme
to fid the reasons for theme. The most fruitful approach, it
seems to me, is an approach through one of the motif-components
of Melville's theme, the relativism and pragmatism of anti-
ideslism. Critics have often tried to find explanations of Mel-
ville's view of the facts of his world by a biographical Jump-off
into his family background of the Dutch Reformed Church. But
trying to find reasons for Melville's theme in the Calvinistic
view of original sin is like trying to find a living whale in the
sea-bed fossils of Colorado. Like all great artists, Melville
created universals out of his relative position as a man living

in his time and place. Even the universals themselves. or at

35!».
least the communication of them may change. and Melville himself
realised this when he said that though the age of authors may be
passing, the hour of earnestness shall remain. In order to com-
municate his hour of earnestness, he pragmatically and realisti-
cally Judged his age of authors, insisting that intentions and
appearances must be shredded even if only to reach a position
which can see intentions as ideal and appearances as necessary.
So the act of creation is double. Along with the universal. Mel-
ville. in examining his world and time, not only looked at his
society but created an image of it. The changeless and the rela-
tive specific exist side by side. It is my conclusion that so
far as Melville was concerned. the former existed because of the
latter--all considerations of artistry aside here. It is in see-
ing what idealism meant to the facts of the America of Helville's
history, that the pragmatism. the lack of program, the lack of
tragedy. the necessity for Melville's technique become approach-
able.

The American seventeenth century was dominated by the ideal
that governed the Puritan thought which brought the Calvinism of
Kelville's backgromld to this continent. If we consider the
Puritan ideal. we must consider that the Puritan thought it pos-
sible to establish the ideal state. indeed thought he was estab-
lishing such a state in uniting every aspect of life under the
dominion of his church, which was for him the one correct visible
body of Christ. Not only was the earthly ideal attainable for

the Puritan mind, but it was founded upon Scripture-based

355.
erudition and reason that allowed the Puritan to interpret and
manifest the will of God-~it was otherworldly oriented. Ulti-
mately; the metaphysic of an otherworldly ideal goes back to
classical idealism. to the Plato whom Professor Love: y sees as
the evil genius of western thought. We need only recall the
theme of Melville's total works to see that in considerations of
state. heaven. and metaphysics. “elville disagreed with his own
religious backgrounds. Moreover. toward the end of the five-
hundred year span (roughly; 1500 to 1900) which saw the moderni-
sation of the western world. coincident with the rise and.suprem-
acy of the middle class of which the Puritans themselves were
part, idealism was beginning to show signs of wear. Officially;
the otherworldly ideal remained the stimulus and the goal: actup
ally; the facts of the world began to make different demands.
Even for that archmPuritan Cotton Mather. the doctrine of works
(which implies a pragmatic approach of earthly Judgment of men's
acts) was beginning to undercut the doctrine of Grace (which
implies that man sees but shadowly the operations of the sover-
eign ideal outside the earthly cave). In his instructions to
the schoolmasters. Mather allowed that although the elect are
chosen by God and all the rest of men are sinners who will not be
allowed to come close to God, still, it will not hurt the sinner
and it might help the saint to know a little Greek and Hebrew and
Latin and to be instructed especially in the ways of God. In
fact, the entire Puritan rationale for education, as for every-

thing else. left the door open for the doctrine of works. If the

356.
synod of Dort emphasizes prevenient and irresistable grace, if
it emphasizes perseverance of the saints, still it does not
explain how the saint is to be certain he is a saint. Granted,
saints behave in certain ways, and thus we have the terrific and
symbolic figure of Cotton Mather brooding and pacing in his
study, wondering if perhaps he does act like a saint because he
is a saint, or because he is a Satan—claimed hypocrite. The im-
plication of the best studies, particularly those made by Perry
Miller, is that the consequent brother—keeping attitudes of the
hard-headed and practical Puritan is an indication that the
basic internal tension of the Puritan idealistic synthesis was
that the doctrine of works always tended to undercut the doc-
trine of grace in innumerable subtle and.unrec05nized ways. In
the facts of the five hundred year middle-class revolution, the
Yankee Puritan as horsetrader, for instance, was as much a.prod—
uct of middle-class social ethics and economics as he was of his
theology. He kept his eyes on heaven and.on the account books
at the same time, and as the possibilities of the account book
began to grow, pragmatic and earthly Judgments became more and
more the actuality, and idealism became moreand more an offi-
cial ideology.

Once the bitter winters were over, the Puritan ministers
increasingly complained of the papulace's loss of that old.time
religion. By the time of Jonathan Edwards' last great attempt
to synthesize Puritanism, the psychology of religion had to

change under the impact of the rationalism of the Age of Reason,

357,

and the old mind and Reason of the Puritan became sublimated
into heart and emotion. For if Reason were still to be the norm,
Puritanism would have to succumb to the Reason of deism, for
which Puritanism itself had left the door wide Open in its em-
phasis upon Nature as the second Book of God and in its emphasis
upon Reason as the means whereby the books are read. In short,
caught in the dilemma of trying to reach an otherworldly ideal
by means of basically anti-idealistic instruments, the old Puri-
tanism died. The Puritans would have been better off had they
been mystics. But they were not mystics. And Edwards, sensing
the reasons for the breakdown of Puritanism as he created his
own epistemology, placed the emphasis on emotion, and in saving
Puritanism, completely transmuted it into something else. Of
equal importance was his emphasis on the possibility of conver-
sion, and in this the rejected doctrine of works was really
given supremacy over the official doctrine of grace. By the
time of the eighteenth century, idealism and the doctrine of
grace seem to have disappeared into the rational sense of serv—
ice of the liberal and radical deists for whom Puritanism had
prepared the way. The approach now is one of common sense and
pragmatism. Epistemology seems to be based.upon empiricism
rather than upon traditionalism or idealism. Yet even the radi-
cal deist, justifying his natural right of revolution by Nature
and‘Nature's Gods-which in turn Justified his trust of man and
the social contract of which the fluid institutionalism and nat-

ural rights are a Consequence--even this deist pointed to an

358.

otherworldly Sovereign whose characteristics were seen in his
Newtonian creation of law, order, harmony, benevolence, variety,
and energy. The conservative upper-middle-class man did not
generally believe in the deist's conclusions, but he went along
with his age, using its terminology and its populistic political
instruments in order to win what it wanted in the first place-—a
transfer of control from London to America. Distrusting:man,
classicist in social thought, it sought to counteract the social
revolution it never wanted in the first place, and to gain the
fruits of the kind of revolution it did want--a military and
political revolution. When we consider the social theories of
John Adams and Alexander Hamilton in Juxtaposition to the social
theories of Thomas Pains and Thomas Jefferson, we find that in
the transfer of powers from localism to centralism as seen in

the change of philosophy from the Declaration and the Articles

 

to the Constitution, the social classicist won back a heritage

 

for America that had almost been a heritage predominated by the
social views of the liberal and radical deist. Largely, the
deist's heritage was one of idealism: the classicist's one of
prayiatic Judgment of political man.

Now by the time of the nineteenth century, pro-Darwinian
evolutionary thought had made great inroads into the ordered
cosmic great chain of being of the eighteenth century. By the
time Melville wrote his greatest books, the facts of his world
and.time encompassed a growing social Darwinianism that made

acceptance of the deist's democratic and papulistic idealism

359.,

impossible, and encompassed growing social and economic inequi-
ties that made acceptance of the old political classicist's
social ideas impossible--impossible at least for Melville, who
saw in the common brotherhood of mortality a great need for
social equality and democracy, but not political equality. Cer-
tainly not political equality, as we have seen in the comments
on Vivenza and in the position of Captain Vere. ‘

To sum up in tremendous but necessary oversimplification,
Melville rejected the intellectual currents of the American sev—
enteenth and eighteenth century in terms of the American nine-
teenth and twentieth centuries. He saw that the ideals of
individualism and laissez faire that characterized the eight-
eenth century deist was now made into a usable past as an ideo-
logical Justification for the nineteenth century social Darwin-
ist. At the same time, the political classicism of the
eighteenth century conservative was similarly used by the nine-
teenth century social Darwinist. What Melville saw was a world
and time in which the middle class had become supreme in the
transmogrification of capitalism, and saw that ideals and ideol-
Ogies were being conveniently, practically, and necessarily used
by men who played.both ends against the middle. None of the
ide010gies were compatible. in terms of use, with the ideal to
which they were connectedl Men are jailers all, the world
stands unhinged and is a lie, and men are blind.

The true American revolution was fought, in one sense, in

the technology and social thought of the nineteenth century.

360.

hat was necessary for Melville was (1) a re-examination of the

God by whose creation ideological Justifications were made by the

confidence men. and (2) a re-examination of confidence-nan him-
self. (For Melville did not shrink from the pain his insight
caused. Maw nineteenth century men turned in delicate distaste
from an America in the turmoil of growth--an America they did not
understand. It would be interesting, for instance. to see the
results of a study of the surprising number of nineteenth century
men who abandoned law to become writers in the romantic or gen-
teel traditions. But nelville was troubled by no overdelicacy.
His school was the floating factory of the whaleship.) Similarly.
three hundred years earlier. the British were forced to the same
re-examinations as. under the impact of the new science and the
social thought of the rising middle class, England reached the
beginnings of her own supremacy and her old world smashed.1
Matthiessen wrought well indeed when he called the age of Mel-
ville the American Renaissance. for on another point of develOp-
lent than the English, but for almost totally parallel reasons.
the age was the birth of a new American world and the death of
an old one.

And how completely Melville was a part of the actualities
of his own age of renaissance and destruction!--the dual charac-
ter of the age itself is an insight into Melville's theme and
technique. The confidence men he scorned. the transcendental-
ists. still clung to ideality as did their half-brothers. the
writers of the genteel tradition. And Melville had no use for
their conclusions.2 But the mainstream of the American liter-

ature of the latter half of the nineteenth century was in

3613

Melville's school, and not in the school of the sidestream of
transcendentalism. There is Dickinson with her frozen moment of
perception, her image that tweaks God's nose and that sees the
underlying inner reality that lurks like the Appenines below the
film of appearance-mist. And what are her images but epiphanies?
There is Twain, with his final abandonment of the liberal deist's
ideal of Huckleberry Finn, and his final abandonment of the true
but rigorous GOd of the Mississippi River. His final statement
was the discrepancy of appearance and reality in "The Man That
Corrupted Hadleyburg," "The Mysterious Stranger," and the awful
statement of God as the great white glare. Stones and blank
white glares are not Melville's alone in this age. Even Whitman
realized, in the latter works of Democratic Ylflffifin a growing
loss of idealistic Optimism. And we need only lump together for
this purpose the entire rise of naturalism, the Chicago school,
the New York bohemian colonies emerging at the end of the cen-
tury, to recognize that again the central pattern of'all the lit-
erature of this age is an examination of the discrepancies
between the ideal appearances inherent in current ideologies and
between the social realities. And with almost all, the result

is not the optimism of the social Darwinist or the transcenden-

‘ talist--the result is the disillusion which is the view of woe,
of which.Melville's works are the finest hammered steel. And
truly, Melville created universals because he was of his time.
And again, it must be noted that his college was not the academy

wherein idealism is taught. His college was not a school for

362.

'metaphysics. His college could not have provided the man of
insight with the idealism and Optimism of the transcendentalists.
His Yale and his Harvard was the whale-ship, at once the univer-
sal of the search, the immersion in the destructive element of
insightful reflection upon facts, and it was also the relative
and timely specific of the changing industrial tenor of his age.

And so none of the writers of the American Renaissance cre-
ated tragedy with all the inherent affirmation and absolute val-
ue the genre demands. Many of them drifted to the nihilism of
Twain's last works or the stern, impressionistic determinism of
Crane's work. There was no absolute against which to posit the
actions showing the violations of absolute order. The two pre-
ceding centuries, with their internal contradictions, could not
provide absolutes, and even if they could, the facts of the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries were incompatible with a
return to such absolute ideals. The relative social specifics
had changed irrevocably and almost totally. And man's motiva—
tions remained the same. And Melville found his theme.

The nineteenth century removed tragedy because it removed
God. It removed the interested Puritan God, whose eye was on
the sparrow and whose hand was immediately on every minutest
event. It removed the deist's God who had removed himself from
the world only because he had stamped it with irrevocable quali-
ties of law, order, and benevolence that characterized the Great
(}eometer's unchanging and perfect Clock. But while most contem-

iporary American writers (of the nineteenth and twentieth

363..
centuries) allowed the removal to throw them into nihilism and

anarchical determinism, it did not completely so affect Melville,

 

the greatest of them all. Fbr Melville found one point of hOpe
and affirmation to balance the Terror Stone's _weight of chaos
and inhumanity. Significantly, the hope he found was the clos~
est he came to a program, and that is the story of Captain Vere.
Politically, his theme makes him a classicist. It is the com-
plete man who must impose order upon society. By his very defi-
nition, the complete man can be no single individual, as witness
Media and Vere. That group, that elite that Melville calls
Nature's noble order, must lead society to gregarious and col-
lective advancement, for the individual man is blindly or madly
driven by his own motivations in a society already plunged too
deeply into a history of selfishness, blindness, and madness--
the world of the confidence man. God can not help, for he is the
blank and terrible sea, the indifferent river upon which man's
world whirls in the cosmos. And certainly authority cannot be
delegated to all men or any man. Long before Captain Vere was
created, Helvdlle adumbrated his view of the limitations of com-
plete political democracy when he attached the pamphlet of world
history and of God to the tree in Mardi's Eizgngg. Fbr Mel-
ville's world was indeed the day of Mars, the Mar-d1 (Melville's
use of French and France--as well as his use of the numeral
three--are subjects in themselves adequate for lengthy study)
which saw not only the external wars with hexico and wars be-

tween the states, but which saw the internal wars of a changing

3645
industrial society.

Per the Greek tragedian. the chorus could advance and
explain the epiphanies in terms of absolutes, ideals that were
of communal acceptance. The tragedian of the English renais-
sance could.present the breakdown of order against the back-
ground of an order which had_existed in the history of that
world and time. The American writer had no history but that of
his own nation, and in reading of a history's destruction, the
insightful artist like Melville Could at once see that the de-
struction meant a creation albeit a creation of new destructions,
and in reading the English renaissance writers, could extract a
history which was changeless in its similarity to the chaos of
his own age. In short, when a great writer is read it is inevi-
table that the structure of the concrete universal is exposed.
But it is also true that such a writer exposes in addition the
structure of the relative-specific. He presents a theme of and
for all men, but he presents it in the image of his own society.
Summarily. I believe, the history of'Melville's world and time
is the most fruitful approach to the overview of the "why" of
Melville‘s theme and technique.

And the "why" is the hooking of leviathan. Melville saw
and understood the problems of the Renaissance at the time of
the breakdown of the titanic medieval absolutes and unities. He
lived in an age and a nation which, beneath its pietism and
appearances could.not base its actions and its actualities upon

the ideal of the great Christian tradition. Rather than turning

365.
to new hand-fashioned absolutes, as did the transcendentalists--

who also soon became inoperative in the American actuality—-Nel-
ville returned to the great Elizabethan examination of human
behavior, with the non-absolute weapons of relativism, empiri~
cism, and pragmatism. In finding the hour of earnestness of
Shakespeare the same as his own, he discovered that deep, deep
gropings will find answers similar in view of earthly universals
though vastly different in view of Specifics. Melville searched
to pierce the mask of appearances, to find an otherworldly, ideal
Last Answer on which human beings could base their behavior. All
he found was the nothingness of the ultimate answer of Time. It
is the emptiness of zero, the perfection of the circle, that
finally defeats even the hepe held out by his political classi-
cism. To try to conquer this emptiness was to ask for the empti-
ness of death. To live by this emptiness was to immerse in
chaos by projecting human ideals into a concept that included
all, was isolated from all, cared not at all. Melville had to
abandon absolutes, ideals, and chronometricals, Ahab, Pierre,
and Christ. The wrench of abandonment is the story of the world
weaning itself from a life based on otherworld, it is the story
of Pierre's soul—toddler. With a great cry of woe, Melville
turned from God to man, and in each of his books created the
history of the world, and embodied that history in each of his
major characters. And in man without otherworld, Melville found
a way to build a new God-~not Timeless, not absolute, but in its

eclectic structure of classicism, empiricism, materialism,

366.

pragmatism, cultural relativity, social democracy, consciousness
and love, a God which would do, which would last as long as
humanity, and which would,pgint:-even if it never realized-~a
way out of chaos into brotherhood and peace.

His one story was the shock of discovery that every indi-
vidual is irrevocably lost from birth in the whelming tides of
time. But in creating his fine hammered steel of this leviathan
woe, he attained.the only immortality he himself recognizeds-the
lingering power and memory of his name and discovery in the col—
lective racial conscience of worldwide mankind. In his final
choice of earth over God, Melville the Promethean classicist
reached out from the deeps and touched all the future world and

time.

 

 

NOTE

1. helville's marginal reading notes make this judgment
inescapable.

 

367.

A MELVI LLE CHECKLIST

This is not a complete checklist of Melville studies. But it
is canprehensive enough to incorporate the important work to date
and to afford the student a beginning point for his own studies.
Maw of the items included do not bear on Melville directly, but
an included as background-works which other researchers have found
helpful. A bibliography of Melville's own works has not been
included. Bibliographies of Melville may be found'in T. H. Johnson's
compilation, volume three of A Literary Histogz gay-MM
(New York, 191.9), Meade Minnigerode, gang Personal Letters 9_f_ M
Melville 29.9. _a_ Bibliography (New York, 1922), and Michael Sadl‘eir,
Excursions 33 Victorian Bibliography (London, 1922).

Collections of primary material are to be found in the Lauel
Shaw Collection of The Massachusetts Historical Society, the
Duyckinck, Lansing and Berg Collections of the New York Public
Library, and the Melville Collection of the Harvard College Library
(Boughton Library). In addition to these large holdings, materials
on whaling, shipping, and Melville and his family are to be found
in the Princeton University Library; the Old Dartmouth Historical
Society (New Bedford, 11:335.); the Peabody Museum (Salem, 11.33.);
the National Archives, Washington, D.C.; the Records of Thales 11.
[011111 and of Peter Gausevoort, the Office of Naval Records and
Library, Washington, D.C.; the Records of the Albany Young Max's

Association, Hamanus Blescker Library, Albany, N.Y.; the New York

369.

State Library, Albany; and the Melville Collection of the Berkshire
Athenaeum (Pittsfield, Mass.). John Howard Birss has long had a
complete Melville bibliography in preparation, and William Gilman
and Merrell Davis are currently concluding work on a complete
collection of Melville letters.

As one of the countless Melville students unknown to him, I
wish to thank Mr. .Tay Leyda for the benefit derived from his labors,
not only expended on monumental works like the Melville Q5, but also
on lesser known and more thankless tasks such as his convenient

arrangement of materials in the New York Public Library collections.

BOOKS AND PM’HLE'I‘S

1. Academy, Albany. Celebration o__1; 'Ihe Semi-Centennial

Anniversary of ‘lhe Albany Academy
(Albany, 1863Je

2. ------- Statutes of The 111me Academy
(Alb-Ian" y", 1331).

3. Albion, R. G. S uare Rigers 9_r_1_ Schedule (Princeton,
1938).

1.. Alexander, .T.M. ‘Ihe Islands 9_f 1:__he Pacific (New York,
1895).

5. Amos, Nathaniel. _A Mariner's Sketches _(_Providence, 1830).

6. Anderson, Ce Re, Ode Iowa—__i or a lese...181.2-18

the Fri ate _United _S______tates Durham,
37 5

7. -------- Melville in the South S__e___as (New York,

1939).""" ""

8. Andree, Richard. Die Anthropophagie: sine
Ethn ra hische Ltudie TLeipzig,
1887).

9. Anonymous (by several

hands) M— de _l__a Propagation La la
’ L01 (Lyon, 1845) XVII.

—-___---__

 

 

 

 

10.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

21..

25.

26.

Anonymous .

“a 0n ’ G.

Arvin, Newton.

ABhley, Ce We

Association, Young Men's.

Bab bi tt, Irving .

Bacon, Leonard W.

Bai ley, Elmer James .

Baldini , Gabri ole.

Beale, 'nlomas.

Beechey, Frederick W.

lecher, Sir Edward.

anett, Arnold.

Bennett, Frederick D.

370.

The South Sea Islander...with Some
Remarks 2_l_l__t_h_e_ Best Mode 2;
Civilizing in; Heathen (New York,
1820).

of the Navy 9; file United States
Washington, D. 0., 181.1).

1119 Stran er in Liverpool (Liverpool,
1838 .

The Men 9_f_ the Time _o_r Sketches _o_f
Living Notables (New York, 1852).

Voyage _o_fH. M. S. Blonds to the

Sandwich Islands (London, 1.8.23):

Heman Melville (New York, 1950).
The Yankee Whaler (Boston, 1926).

CatalOgue 2; Books in; the Library
of the MMen's Association of

fifitz 93 A1me (Albany, 1237').

Rousseau and Romanticism (Boston,
1919).

A History _o_f American Christianity
(New York, 1897).

Religi ous ‘nlought in the Greater
American Poets (Boston, 1922).

Melville _o_ 1. ambiguit‘a (Milan, 1952).
ENatural Histor ELEM
Won, 39).

Narrative _o_f_ a V0 e 3.3 _t_gg Pacific
%28sring Straits Philadelphia,

Narrative of _a_ Yo e round the
World, 1836:1842 (London, 1843).

'me Savour of Life (London, 1928).

Narrative _o_f_ a Whalin Vo e round

_t_ng Globe, 822-182 London, 181,0).

 

__u-..

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.
36.

37.
38.

39.

1.3.

1.1..

45.

Bieber, iRalph P.

Billington, Ray A.

Bingham, Hiram.

Blackmur, R. P.

Bodkin , Maud.

Benton, Percy H.

Branch, 3. D.

Braswe ll , Wm.

Briggs, C. F.

Brinton , D. G.

Brooks , Van Wyck.

Brome, J’. Ros s.

Buckingham, J‘. S.

371.

Southern Trails 1:2 California _13
1849 (Glendale, Ca1., 1937T.

'nle Protestant Crusade 1800-1860

(New York, 1938).

A Residence _o_f twenty Years in the
Sandwich Islands (New York, 181,7).

'lhe ense 31; Greatness (New York,
1940).

 

“me Merchant's and Shipmaster's
Assistant (New York, 1832)?

Archet a1 Pattems in Poetgy
(London, 1931.7.

Literamre and American Life
(Boston, 193

 

More Contemporary Americans (Chicago,
1927).

_i_i_le_;_ Sentimental Years (New York, 1931.).

Melville's Religious'Ih oggt (Durham,
1943).

Working .9. Passage (New York, 1844).

lbs Adventures _o_f Hargy Franco (New

Relig one of Primitive Peoples (New
York, 1897).-

my); (New York, 1933). 1:11, 522-526.
nnerson and. Others _(New York, 1927).

The Times of Meliille an__£l_ Whim______a_n__
(ii—__— York, 191.7).

[the World of Washingmn _Ling
(iv—J. York, 1944).

Itchings of a Whaling______ Cruise (New
York, 1843-)..—

America, Historical, Statistig, and
Descriptive (New York, 181.1).

47.
1.8.

49.

50.
51.
52.

52.
53.

54.

55.
56.

58.

59.

61.

62.

Burton, J. W.

3“”, Je Be
Buschmann, Johann.

Caillot, A. c. E.

Canby, Henry S.

carmll, He Ke
Charles-Rpm, J.
ChflBO, Fe He

Chase. Owen.

Chase, Richard.

Chasles , Philars ts.

Clowes, W. L. _e_t_al.
Coan, Titus.
Codman, JOhDe

COlton, Walter.
Colum, Padraic.

Colvin, Sir Sidney, ed.

372.

Missionary Survey 2; the Pacific
Islands (London, 1930).

‘Ih___e_ _I__dea _o_f Prggress (London, 1921).

m_ de 1a1_1._53_e____des _I____les
Marquises (Berlin, 18.-13).

L__e_s Polynesiens au contact de la
civilisation. (Paris, 1909).

Classic Amsricans (New York, 1931).

Definitions (New York, 1922).

he Reli ous Forces of th___e_ United
_S_____tates (New York, 189—).—

Colonies _a_t P s 93 Protectorate
(Paris, 1900 .

 

Lanusl Shaw (Boston, 1918).
Narrative _o_f the...Shipwreck of

1116 Whale-Ship Essex o_f_ Nantucket
Herman Melville (New York, 1950).
Et___u___des _o__ur 1a litterature _e__t 1es
moeurs des Anglo-Americans —(Paris,
1851). Tl‘annlated by Donald MacLeod

as 92513 Amnican Literature and
Manners (New York, 1852).

Ill—gR RNoyal ayy, _a_ Histogy (London,
1897-1903).

Life in Hawaii e e e1835-1881 (Nu
York, 1882 ) e

Sailor's Life and Sailor's Yams

(New York, 1847)?
Deck and Port (New York, 1850).
_A Half-Day's Ride (New York, 1932).

The Letters 3; Robert Louis

Stevenson (London, 1900 ).

 

e a e n e e e e a e
.
_
h
_
.
p .
l — ( ( f
_ . (
. _ K
n
d
.
e e e
l\ V
.
a V
e
e .
e
. . _
, _
a
. .
n
.

 

63.

61,.

65.

69.

70.
71.

72.

73.

74.

75.

‘76.

77.

78 .
79.

Cook, James.

Cooke, George Willis.
Coulter, John.

Cournos, John.
Crevecoeur, St. John de.
Curls, Richard.

Dana , Richard Henry.

Davis, Merrell R.

Dayton, Abram C.

Balers-st, David D. ', _. ‘ '

Dickens, Charles.

Donovan, Herbert D. A.

Dardillon, Rene.

Duyckinck, £2th and George.

Edgar, Pelham.

Ellis, William.

373 .

A Collection _o_f: V0 es round
the World. (London, 1790).

 

Unitarianism in America (Boston,
1902r

Adventures _i_n_ the Pacific (Dublin,
1345).

A Modern Plutarch (Indianapolis,
1938).

Letters from an American Fanner
Rondon, 1782):

Collecting Anerican First Editions
(Indinapolis, 1930).

 

Two Years before the Mast (New York,
181.2).

The Seaman's Friald (Boston, 181.1).
Melville'sM_a____rdi (New Haven, 1950).

Last Days of Knickerbocker Life _in_
Old New Yo’rié' (New York,l E97)":—

History and Characteristics o__f_ th__e_
Reformed Protestant Dutch Church

mk, 18 56).

American Notes fro General Circulation

(New York, 181.2)..-

The Barnburners (New York, 1925).

 

Grammaire e__t dictionnaire ds 1a
1angge_ des _I____1es Marguises (Paris,
1931-2).

Cyclopaedia of American Literature
II (New York, —1855).

 

322. All 2.1:. El! 3.9121 (N6- York. 1933)-

Th__e_ Hints of the Lmdon Missionary
Society (London, 181.1,).

A Defense of the Missions in the
Earth Sea___e_"('1.ondon, 1827).—

 

 

*V-—_a—_-—‘

 

81.

82.

83.

81,.
85.

86.

87.

88.

89.

91.

92.

93.

91..

95.
96.

98.
99.

Ellis, William
Erskine, John.

Fairchild, H. N.

Fanning, Edward.

Faxon, Frederick Winthrop.
Fiedelson, Charles Jr.
Field, M. B.

Fields, James ‘1‘.

Fish, Charles R.

Fitzroy, Robert.

Forster, B. M.

Franklin , SORO

Frazer, Sir James G.

Frear, W. F.

Frederix, Pierre.
1.1.98an. JOhne

Gabriel, Ralph E.

371..

Polynesian Researches (London,
1833 ) .

A Vindication _o_f the South Sea
Missions (London, 1831).

 

 

The Delight fig Great Books
Tl‘n'dianepolie, 19287.

_l_hg Noble SaLage (New York, 1928).

V0 es round the World (New York,
1833).

Lite rar Annuals and Gift-Books
(Boston, 1912).

 

 

 

S bolism in American Literature
Chicag ago, 1953):...-

Menories of Many MCI and of Some

Women (Ne;— York, T874)".- ""

Yesterdays w__i__th Au__’g____hors (Boston,
1872).

 

The Rise of the Common Man, 1820-

1820, vol. VII, A History___ of
Amsr____i_.__can Life (New York, 1927).

Narrative OfeeeHeueSe Advmtur.
and Reggie 1826-1836 (London, 1839).

Aspects gaggNovel (London, 1927).

Memories of _a_ Rear-Admiral (New
York, 1395):

The Belief _i_n_ Immortal“! (Laldon,
1922).

11313 Golden Bough (New York, 1930).

Anti Missionary Criticism wi__t_ly
Refermcs _t_o_ Ha_w_a__ii (Honolulu, 1935).

Herman Melville (Paris, 1950).
Herman Melville (London, 1926).

The Course of American Democratic

Thought Tow York, 191,0).

 

100.

101.

102.

103 .

101...
105.

106.

107.

108 .

109.

110.

111.

112.

113 .

111..

115.

116.

117 .

Gannett, William C.
Gerould, Gordon H.

Gers tac ker, Fri edric h.

Gilman , William.

Giono, Jean.
Gleim, W. S.

Gohdes, Clarence F.
Gordon, Thomas 1".
Gracia, Mathias.
Gulick, Addison.
Hale, Charles.

Hamersly, T. H. 8.

Handy, W. 0.

Harper' s Family Library
SerieS. V

Hart, Joseph C .

Haven, G. and Russell, T‘.

Hawthorne , Juli an.

375.

£1: Hundred Years _o_f the Unitarian

M__o_______vement Ln .tun__e_____rica (n.p. 1915).

The Patterns of English and American
Fiction (Boston, 1942).

 

 

Rsisen (Stuttgart, 1853).

, Melville's Early Life and Redburn

(New York, 1951).
Pour Saluer Melville (Paris, 191.0).
The Meaning 9; Mob: Dick (New York, 1938).

American Literature inNineteenth
Centurz gland—(New York, 191,4).

Gazeteer of the State _o_f New Y__o____rk

(Pm hdelphia, 18 835).—

Lettres sur les Il_e__s Marguises

(Pa 2' 13'," 187372——

Evolutionist and Missionary: John
Thomas Gulick (Ehicago, 1932).

 

 

A Vocabulary of the Nukahiva Luag 5e
(Boat on, 18487-—

General Rgister__ of the United States

Nav v___x and Marine Corps (Washington, D. 0..
1882).

T‘attooi__n§ _in_ the Marguesas (Honolulu,
1922 .

Vozgges__ round t_h__e Wor_____l__d from the Death
of Captain Cook to“— the Present Time
Tow York,

 

An Historical Account of th__e_ Circum-
navigation o__i‘_ Lbs Globe (New York, 1839).
Miriam Coffin (San Francisco, 1873).

Father Ta lor the Sailor Preacher

Wm, 72).

Nathaniel Hawthorne and His Wife (Boston,
1885).

118 .
119.

120.
121.
122.
123.
124.
125.

126.

127 .
128.
129.

130 .

131 .
132.
133.

131+.

Hemstreet, Charles.
Henry, Teuira.

Hill, Frederick S.
Hinds, William Alfred.
Hoffman, F. J.

Holt, HenryS.

Howard, Leon.

Hulme, F..E.

Hun ’ Henry.

Hunt, Leno
Isham,,Samuel. 1.
Jacoby, J. E.

Jardin, Edelestan.

Jarves, James J.
Jenkins, Thomas H.
Josephson, Matthew.

Kotzebue, Otto von .

376.

Literarg New York (New York, 1903).
Ancient Tahiti (Honolulu, 1928).

TWenjy-Six Historic Ships (New York,
1903).-

Amaricsn CommunitiesJ rev. ed. (Chicago,

1902).

Freudianism and the Literarz Mind
(Hatch Rouge, 1945).

Garrulities or an Octagonarian
Editor (Boston, 1923).

 

Herman Melville (Berkely, 1951).

The Historl, Principles and Practice
of Szmbolism in Christian Art
(London, 1892)..-

 

A Surv e: 93: the Activi t___z of th__e_
Albanl Academy (New York State

Library, Albany [m p .J, 1931.).

A Voiceh from the Forecastle _o_g__ a
Wha:__l__eS hig TBui‘falo, 181.8).

_T_h__e HistOr'v____ ofAm Ame ican anPainting
(New York, 1927 .
L__e_ mystic isme dans la ensee

 

Amerioaine (Paris, 1931

Essai sur l'histoire naturelle 92
1' archi el des Marquises (Paris,
3362).

Historz of the Hawaiian or Sandwich
Islands Tfiondon, 181.3).-_

 

Bark Kathleen Sunk 131 3. Whale

Portrait of the Artist _a_s American

(New York, __1930).

A New Voyage round the "Iorld,182;§-
1821 (London, 1830).

135.

136.

137.
138 .

139.

11,0.

11.1.

147-

11.9.
150.

151.

152.

153.

Kruzenstern, A. J. von.
Lamont, E. H.

Longer, Susanne K.

Langsdori‘f, G. H. von.
Lathers, Richard.

LathrOp, Rose H.

Lawrence, D. H.
Ledyard, John.

Leech, Samuel.
Lewis, Charles L.
LeWisohn, Ludwig.
Leyda, Jay.

Lintm , Ralph.

Little, George.

London Missionary Soc.
Lovett, Richard.

Lucas, F. L.

Luc ett, E.

Pee ific Ocean Lon

377.

V e round the world, 16802-180
(London, 1813).

Wild Life amon

(London, 18

Philospphy _i_n_ _a_New Key (Cambridge, 191.2).

the Pacific Islanders

Vo es and Travels, 1803-1807 (Lmdon,
1813).

'me Reminiscences of Richard Lathers

 

 

Menories 11; Hawthorne (Boston, 1897).

Studies in Classic Amarican Literature

(New York-,— 1903) .

_A_ Journal of Captain Cook's __La_§__t
Volga (Harti‘ord, 1783).

 

Thirty Years from Home (Boston, 1847).
Books _o_f; the Sea (Annapolis, 191.3).
EIpressi on in America (New York, 1932).

_Thg Melville L25. (New York, 1951).

‘Th___e_ Material Culture of the Marquesas

_l__—_sland nds (Honolulu, 1923).

in the Marquesas Islands
192577

Life in the Ocean (Baltimore, 1843).

Archaeol
(Honolulu,

 

A Missionary Vo a e to the South

«1037 1799 7"“.

A Histor or the London Missionary
Society (London, 1899).

Authors Dead and Living (New York, 1935).

Rovin B in the Pacific...18311849...
(L011 ondon, 1.851)e

151..
155.
156.

157.

158.

159.
160.

*161.

162.

163.

161..

165.

166.

167 .

168.

169.

170.

171.

Luckiesch, Matthew.
Lynch, Denis T.

Maclay, Edgar S.
MECMOChan, A. M.

Macy, Obed.
Mahan, Alfred T.

Martin, K. L. P.
Mason, Ronald.

Matthiessen, F. 0.

McNally, William.

Metc a1: , Eleanor M.

Minnigerode, Meade.

Montgomery, James ed.

Morrison, John.
Mosblech, L'Abbe B.

Mott, Frank Luther.

378 .

Color and Colors (New York, 1938).

 

$39.. 1352— of Re_£___om (New York, 1931.).

A Histog__ of the United §______tates Na an
Thaw York 190 025.*

'H1__e_ Life of a Little Cb£e5e__ and 0__t____her
Papers (Boston, 1914).

The Histogz ENantucket (Boston, 1835).
From Sail _t_o_ Steam (New York, 1907).

Missionaries an__c_1_ Annexation _i_n the
Pacific (London, 1924T.

'm___e_ Spirit above the Dustza Stud _o_f

H_e____rman Melville (London, 1951.
American Rmaissance (New York, 191.1).

_E_v___ils and Abuses _i_n_tiigNaval and
Merchant _S_____ervice Messed (Boston, 1839).

Journal of a Visit to Lon____g__on and _t_h__e

191.8).

Herman Melville: CEle___ and Epiczcle
(0 wbridgeu 1953).

Sane Personal Letters of Herman Melville

_and'm—g—B'ibliggrapgz (Ne;— York, 1922 .

'Ihe Fabulous Forties (New York, 1921.).

Journal 9_1’_ Vomee and Ih‘avels 21 the

Reverend Daniel %eman _a_ng George
anet (Boston, 1 32 .

Histo_1_-z___ or American _S____team Navigation

NOW York, 1903 ) e

Vocabulaire Oceanien-Francais et

Francais-Oceanien (Paris, 18!. T:

A Histor o__f_ American Eazines l-Zfl
1820 (New_ York, 1930).

172.

173.
171..
175.
176.

177.

178.

179.

180.

181.

182.

183.

181..

185.

186.

187.

188 .
189.

M1111”, J. and
301110, F.

Mumford, Lewis.

Munro, Wilfred H.

Neuhas, Eugen.

New York, City of.

New York, High Schools of.

..--...-..., University Of.

Nichols, ‘ihoms L.
O'Brien," Frederick. =
Olmsted, Francis A.

Olson, Charles .

Osgood, Frances S.

379.

Systematische Beschreibung d_e__r
Plagiostomen (Berlin, 181.1).

_‘111_e_§_o_l_._d_e_n_ 25;; (New York, 1926).
11.25.111.39. Melville (New York, 1929).
M £33913 Seaport (Princeton, 1917).
M 2; M (Albany. 1858).

'Ihe His tor oan___d Ideals _o_f American

Minutes 3; 3:22 Cannon Council 3; the
Cit: 2; New York, 1784-1831 (New
York, 1917).

Charter Br—La Laws, “_l__&%1°u°n' of the
_i_Q-w School o__r New York ew York, 182—).

Fifth Annual Report or the High-School
Societz_ or New Yor__l_r_ (New York, 182-9).

Fir____s__t Ann___u_1__a1 Report_ of th__e_ mu..- of
th__e_ Hir—School Societ in t_h__e Citz__ of
New York (New York, 2ST:—

The High School Societz of New York...
EJ114825 (New You, 182:):

'me Second Annual Repor t3; th__e_ ‘h‘ustees

Of the High-SChOOI SOOIOt eeTNOV.12I
Tip—(New York, 1826).

 

Fifty-second Annual Report_ or th__e_ 165mm
01’ the Universitz or the State 01‘ Na

Y_9___rk_('Albany, 1839')?—
Fortp Years g_i'_ American Life (Lmdon,
1 e

White Shadows _i_n_ . the South 3... (New

Incidmts _o_f a ingV ozgge (New York,
1841).

Call Mg Ishmael (New York, 1947).

The Poet_rz _o_f; Flowers (New York, 1841).

 

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-_-_~___ .
i
a—.——«._.l—~— . ‘
|
--i__-.- , ‘
_-_--i__ _
i
i
.
(
v
<
1 O
f |
. O

190.
191.

192.

193 .

191..

195.

196.

197 .
198.

199.
V 200.

201.

202.

203 .

201..

205.

206.

207 .

Oeeoli, Margaret Fuller

P311381“, Y. He

Parrington, V. L.

Pas ton, George.

Patme’ F. L.

Paullin, Charles 0.

Peltz, William L. L.

Percival, M. O.

Perkins, E. T.

Perry, Bliss.

Perry, Galbraith B.

Persons, Stow.

Picton, Jo Ac

Porter, David.

Pritchard , George.

Pritchard, w. '1'.

Quinn, A. H.

Radiguet, Max.

380.

At Home and Abroad (Boston, 1856).

Familz Correngndence g; Herman
Melville, 1830-1901. (New York, 1929).

Main Currents in American Thought, II
(New York, 1927‘).

_A_t John Murraz's, Records of _a_
Litera Circle, 18"43'J1'8' 92"(London,
1932 .

{the New American Literature (New
York, 1930 ).

Naval Administration, 1::(2‘1211
(Annapolis, n. d.)

1133 1‘52. Flight _a_t Number 931
Lafgzette Street (Ebany, 1939).

_A_ Reading 3311»: Dick (Chicago, 1950).

Nanotu: 93., Beef Rovi s in the
South Seas (New York, $51.7:

Emerson 'I‘odal (Princeton, 1931).

Charles D'Wolr E Guadelouge (New

Free ReligionJ an American Faith
(New Haven , 1947-).

Memorials 2!. Livergool (London,
1875).

Journal 33;; Cruise Made it; the
Pacific Ocean (Philadelphia, 1815).

The Iii ssionarj'e Raard (London,
181.4).

Polfiesian Reminiscences (London,

American Fiction (New York, 1936).

 

Les Demiers Sauvgges (Paris, 1929).

208.

209.

210.

211.

212.

213.

211..

215.

216.

217.

219.

220.

221.

222.

223.

221..

225.

R8110, EinOe

Reynolds, Cuyler ed.

Reynolds, .1. N.

Reynolds Printing
Sketches (No. 6).
Riley, Woodbridge.

RObOrtBOn, J. M.

Rollin, Louie.

Rmth, H. V.
Rowe, Henry Kalloch.
Ruschenberger, W. S. W.

Russell, Michael.

Sadleir, Michael.
Sadler, 'Ihomas ed.
Sanders, Elizabeth H.

Sands, Bm 1min Fe

381.
‘Ihe Haunted Castle (New York, 1927).

Hudson-Mohawk Genealogical and Family
Menoirs (New York, 1911).

Albany Chronicles (Albany, 1906).

Address...on...the...South 308.8 (NOW
York, 1836).

mocha Dick e__r the White Whale of th__e
Pacific (New York, 1932).

 

Vome of _tthnited States Frigate
Potomac-(New York, 1835).

New Bedford Whalers: the Bark "Platinu"
at. Bedrord, n. «1.).

American ‘Ih____o_ught tron Puri tanim _t__o
Pragmatism _a_n__d Beyond (New York, 1915).

A Histo toL of Free thought _i_n_ _th__e
,Nineteenth_ Century (London, 1929).

L__e_e;Iles 11.59.11... (Paris, 1929).
Wards the 'hentieth Cen tug (New

York, 1931770

The His to o__r_ Reli ion in Lhe United
States (New York, 1921.).—

_A Vo round the World (Philadelphia,
18%)

Pol sia: o__1_-_, an Historical Account 9;
the Prinoi al Is ends in the South
S__e_a__s Edinbur urgh, 5).

Excursions in Victorian Bibliography
(London, 1922).

Diar ...of Henry Crabb Robinson (Boston,
1869). ,

Remarks on the "Mr around Hawaii“

(Salem, 181,8):

226.

227.

228.

229.

230 .

231.

232.
233 .
234.

235.

236.

237.
238.

239 .

21.0.

21.1.
242.

21.3.

Scarborough, Dorothy.
Schaff, Phillip.

Schlesinger, A. M. Jr.

Scoville, .T. A.

Sears, Clara Endic ott.

Sedgwick, w. E.

Seldes, Gilbert.
Simon, Jean.

Smith, J’. n. A.

Smi th, 'lhomas W.

Starbuck, Alexander.

Stevenson, Robert Louis.

Stewart, Charles S.
Stewart, Randall ed.

Stoddard, Charles w.

382.

'Ihe Supernatural _i_n_ Modern English
Fiction (New York, 1917).

 

 

Church and State _19_ the gm ted States
WOW York, 18887.

 

 

Eggs of Jackson (Boston, 1945).

he 01d Merchants 2; New York City
(New York, 18631.

 

Mg; Delusion (Boston, 1921.).

Herman Melville: The M 2; Mind

(Cambridge, 1941.).
The Stammering Century (New York, 1928).

A Herman Melville Anthology (Paris, 191.6).

 

Herman Melville, Marin Metgghysicien
_a_t_Poete @aris, 1939). '

_Lgfglynesie dans 1’Art _e_t_ 1_a_ Litterature
do 1'Occident;o(Paris, 1939).

Manic, the Romance and Beaut _a_; the
Hills (by Godfrey Greylock . Boston,
1879.

The History or Pittsi‘ieldJ Mass. from
1800 to 18167Springi’ield, EEK). -

Herman Melville. Written for the hating
Journal (Pittsrield, 1891).

A Narrative 93 the LifeI Travels and

Suffer 9_1_'_ ‘momas 15mm (Boston,
1 1.1. .

History 9; the American Whale Fishery

_l_n_ the South Seas (London, 1888).

A Visit _t_o_ the South Seas (New York,
13317?"

‘Ihe American Notebooks by Nathaniel
Hawthorne (New Haven, 1932 .

Summer Cmisi in the South Seas
(London, 1871. .

245-

21.6.
247.
21.8.

249.

250.

251.
252.
253.
254.

255.
256.

257-
258.

259.

260.

261 .

262 .

263.

261..

Stoddard, R. H.

Stone, Geoffrey.
Sullivan, J’. N. N.

Sundermann, Karl H.
Sweet, William W.
Sylvester, N.

Tassin, Algernon.
Taylor, Bayard.
Taylor, J’. 0.

Thompson , L.

Thorp, '. .

'l‘hwing , A. H.

Torrey, W.

Townsend, H. G.
Trent, W. P.

'I‘rood, 'Lhomas.

'Ihrnbull, J.

Turner, L. D.

Van Doran, Carl.

383 .

Recollections Personal §_n__d Literary
(New York, 1903 .

Melville (New York, 191.9).
AsEcts _o_f; Science (New York, 1926).

Herman Melvi llels Gedankengut (Berlin,
1937).

'me Stogy of Reli ions in Anierica
(New York, 1930).

Histor of Rensselaer County
(Philadelphia, 1880r

 

The Magazine _i_n_ America (New York, 1916).
Views A-foot (New York, 181.6).
'Ihe District School (Philadelphia, 1835).

Melville' s guar lwi___t_h God (Princeton,
1952).

Herman Melville (New York, 1938).

The Crooked and Narrow Streets _o_f
Boston (Boston, 1920).

Torrey's Narrative (Boston, 181.8).

Philosophical Ideas in the United
States (New York, 1934).

A History 2;; American'Literature
(New Yerk, 1929).

Island Reminiscences (Sydney, Australia,
1912).
A V0 e round the World (Philadelphia,

-3310 .

Ant____i_ Slavery Sentiment in American
Literature prior_ to 1863— (Washington,
19—9).

The American Novel (New York, 191.0).

ambri e Histor of Am___e______rican LiteratureJ
1(New York, 1917).—

 

265.
266.

267.

268.
269.

270.

2‘71.

272.
273.

274.

275.

276.

277.
278.

279.

280.

281.

282.

283.

Van Vechten, Carl.

VeI'gneS, P. E. E. (1630

Vincenden-Dumoulin, and
Desgraz, C.A., and C.

Vincent, H.

Walpole , Fred‘.

Warren, A. and
Wellek, R.

Warren, T. R.

Weed, Thurlow.

Weise, A. I.

Westermarck, E.

Wheeler, Daniel.

Whyte , Robert.

Wilkes, Charles.

Williams, John.

Williamson, R. W.

384.
Excavations (New York, 1926).

L'Archipel des Iles Maxguises (Paris,
1877 )-

Iles Marwises (Paris, 181.3).

 

Iles Taiti (Paris, 181.1,).

The 1

Out 9_1_‘_ Moby Dick (Boston,
1949 .

'lheory _o_f_ Literature (New York, 191.9).

Dust and Foam (New York, 1859).

American Writers _o_n_ American Literature
(New York, 1931).

 

Hennan Melville, Mariner and Mystic
(New York, 1921).

 

Journal up the Straights, October

1856 - May 5, 1857 (New York,

)1”
Letters from Europe and the West Indies,
1852-1822 (Albany, 1853).

History 3_f_Albany (Albany, 1881,).

The His to

.93 Human Marrige (New York,
1922 .

Memoirs 2;: the Life and Gospel Labors
(Philadelphia, 1812).

_lgg Ocean ngue (Boston, 181.8).

Narrative of the U. S.

lorin
upeditloo'TPhlladelphl a. 1345 ) .

A Narrative g; Missionary Rite __
the South Sea Islandstondon, 1839).

 

 

lme Religious and Cosmic Beliefs of
Central PolEesia (Cambridge, 1937.).

281.. Williamson, R. W.

$5. Willis, Ne Po 4

286. Wilson, James.

287. Winters, Yvor.
288. Wise, Henry A.

289. Wright, Nathalie.

2900 Ysendoorn, Fro Re

INTROIDC'IIQ‘IS

385-

'.Ihe Social and Political Systems of
Central Polynesia (Cambridge, 1922).

 

Pencillings by _t_h_e_ W2! (London, 1835).

_A_Missionary V0 e to the Southern
Pacific Ocean London, 1799).

Maule's Curse (Norfolk, Conn., 1938 ).

 

£95 Gringos (New York, 1849).

Melville's Egg 2:5 the Bible (Durham,
1949).

Histolz 23 the Catholic Mission in the
Hawai 1an Is'lah""d"T—"s Honolul'fu": '1—9277'.‘ ""

 

Introductions are not listed here, but are to be found listed in

the bibliographies of Melville editions as explained in the head-

note to this checklist. Among the most important introductory

material are the editorial work done by Weaver for the Constable

edition and the material in the mendriclos House-Farrar Strauss

editions .

ARTICLES

1.

2.

3.

1..

5.

7.

8.

9.

Aaron, Daniel.

.Abet, R07. JOhn. SeCe

Abele, Rudolph von.
Adams, Frederick B., Jr.
Adams, R. P.

Aderman, Ralph M.
Adkins, Nelson F.

Allen, Don Cameron.

10.Ament, w. s.

11 . m-..“

12.Anderson, Charles R.

130-""-"

140 ““““’"

15. ------ .-

16.Anonymous .

386.

”An English Enemy of Melville," N_E_q,
V11 (1935). 561-567.

"Melville and the Missionaries," NEQ,
VIII (1935). 404-408-

"me Missionary - A Sailor Story,"

The Sailor's MagazineJVII (181.5)
311363": ""‘ '

"Melville and the Problem of Evil,"
Alas-ram m (1947). 592-598.

“'Ihe Crows Nest," Colophon, New
Series, II (1936), 118-154.

"Romanticism and the American
Renaissance," A13 XXIII (1951) 1.19-1.32.

"When Melville Lectured Here,"
Historical Messmger, IX (1953). 3-5.

"A Note on Herman Melvi lle's mg,"
E23. V (1932). 348-351-

”Symbolic Color in the Literature of
the English Renaissance," fig, IV
(1936). 81-92.

"Bowdler and the Whale," AL, I! (1932),
39'460

"Some Aunericanisms in Mob Dick "
Amer. Speech. VII (1935):;35-367.

"Contemporary American Opinions of
mwdw" 5.1;; DC (1937). 1-25.

"The Genesis of Billy Budd," £19 XII

"Melville's English Debut," 91:, XI
(1939): 23-380

"A Reply to Melville'sif’JhiteJacket,"
AL) VII (1935). 123-154. ,

"Editorial: Herman Melville," lew York
Z‘imes, x11, No. 12 (Friday, Oct. 2)189l),

17.

18 .

19.

20.

21.

23.

21..

25.

26.

27.

29.

30.

31.

Anonymous.

—-.---

387 .

"Hermn Melville's 'Pierre'," '118,
No. 1500 (Oct. 30, 1930), 881..

"Roman Melville's Silence," _‘II_§_,
N00 1173 (July 10, 1924): 4330

"Melville's Journey: The Conflict of
Heart and Mind," 113, (Jan. 12. 191.6),
18. '

"The Merchant Service," Hunt's Merchant's
Magazine and Commercial Review, I(Dec.
1839 p 468-472.

"Moby-Dick," Critic, n.s., XIX (April 15,
1393). 232.

"Toward the Whole Evidence on Melville
as a Lecturer," Amer. N. 93351 9:; 11,
111-112.

"Two or Three Things about Liverpool,"

Tait's Edinbugg Eazine, XI (July
1841.). .

"An Unpublished Letter from Herman Melville
to Mrs. Hawthorne in Explanation of 'Moby
Dick',” American Art Association -
Anderson Galleries Catalo ue _o_i: Sale,

3911 (New York, 1931 , 9.

”A Visit to Liverpool," Tait's

Edinbu Mgazine, XVI (April, 181.9).
213-21 .

(Review of Omoo), Albion, n.s., VI
(May 8, 181.7), 228.

(Review of White-Jacket), Albion, n.s.,
IX.(March 30, 1850), 153.

(Review of Redburn), Albion n.s.,

VIII (Nov. 21, 1849), 1.

(Review of Pierre), Albion, n.s.,
XI (A118. 21, 1852), 1.05.

(Review of Mob -Dick), Albion, n.s.,
x (Nov. 22, 1851 , 561.

 

(Review of Mardi), Albion n.3,. VIII
(April 21, 1849). 182-183, 189.

__.._«.....

_._.__.—~...-—._.

qmrv-_—~——.—-

“..-ll._A .
.._._...—.....—.__ ‘

 

 

 

32.

33.

31..

35.

36.

37.

38.

39.

1.0.

42.

1.3.

45-

1.6.

L7.

1.8.

m----r‘

388.

(Review of as), Albion, V
(April 4, 1.8 . 1680

(No title), Almanack ggjthonth,
I (London, 183), 368-369.

(Review of as), American Review,
III (April, 18 )3 415‘424-

(Review of White-Jacket), American
Review, XI (April, 1850), 1.1.2.

(Review of Mardi), American Review,

X (Sept., 134913 3290

(Review of Pierre), American Whig
Review, XVI (Nov., 1852), 1.46—1.54.

(Review of Omoo , Anglo-American, IX
(May 8) 1847 a 90

(Review of ee), lo‘American VI
(March 21, 18 , 523; (April 1., 181.6),
555'5573 (April 119 18461: $96820

(Review of Redburn), Athenaeum, 1150
(Nov. 10, 181.9), 1131-1133.

(Review of White-Jacket), AthenaeumJ

(Review of Omoo) Athalaeum, No. 1015
(April 10. 1847). 382-384.

(Review of Pierre), ilithenaegugmJ No. 1308
(Nov. 20, 18 52)? 1265-1265

(Review of Confidence Man), Athenaeum,
N0. 1537 (April 11. 13577. 155-453-

(Review of Piazm 'lhles), Athenaeum,
No. 1500 (July 26, 1856), 929.

(Review of Israel Potts r), Athenaeum,
No. 11.1.0 (June 2, 1855), 643.

(Review of Moby-Dick), Athenaeum, No. 1252
(Oct. 25, 1851), 1112-1113.

(Review of Mardi), Athenaeum, No. 1117
(March 21, 181.9), 296-298.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

54.

55.

56.

57.

59.

60.

61.

62.

63. .......

389.

(Review of ca), Athenaeum, No. 956
(Feb. 21, 18 , 189-191; No. 957
(Feb, 28, 181.6), 218-220; No. 980
(August 8, 181.6), 819; No. 988 (Oct.
3, 181.6), 1011-1015.

(No title), Athenaeum, No. 111.3 (Sept.
22. 1849). 9763 N00 11103 (00150 279 18109):
1026; NO. 2113 (April 25, 1868), 595-

59 -

(Review of Battle Pieces), Atlantic
Monthly, XIX (F0130, 1837), 252-2530

(Review of Mardi), Bentley's Miscellgy,
XXVI (Nov., 181.9). 529.

(Review of Mob -Dick), Butley's
(Review of Redburn), Bentley's Miscellmy,
m1 (Nov., 1849), 528-530.

(Renew of White-Jacket),Bent1e 's
Miscellany, XXVII march, 1850 , 309-310.

(Review of Mardi), Baltley's Miscellany,
1357 (April, 1349). 439-442.

(Review of Typee), Biblical Repository
and Classical Review, V, 3rd. Series
(0090. 18497: 751»

(Review of Mardi), Blackwood's Edinburgh
11 azine, LIVI (Aug., 1849). 172-173.

(Review of Redburn), Blackwood's
Edinburgh Manna, IXVI Won, 181.9),
5 7-580.

(Review of Onoo), Blaclonood's Edinbuggh
(‘Ibbfls announcement), Buffalo Commercial
Advertiser, July 11, 18%.

 

(Review of Omoo), Chambere's Edinburgh
£0,313 n. 811... VII (May 29. 134m 333-341.

(Review of as) Chambere'e Edinbugg
Journal, V April’25, 1846T,265-2 9;
May 2, 1846), 2820

 

..._._-.———.v._ .
_fl-..~...~~ .

..-....._. __

F,-—.~-.~—. .
__.__.--_.— .
..-... --‘_._ .

7a.

75.

76 .

77.

78.

390.

"Catholic and Protestant Mieeione.‘
Christian Examiner, ILIV (May 1848),
#16, M1.

'Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life.”

Christian Observatogz, I (May 1897).
230-234.

"The Parlor Table,” Qhrietig gar:
_l_q_r Mag., III (Sept. 1846).

I"Typee: The Traducer of Missions."

Christian Parlor 333., III (July
18,46)! 7M3.

'Redbm," 9hr istigg Union and,
_gl_i_g%__ Memorig, II (Dec. 181(9),
759-? 0

(Review of M). Columbia Lagg-
zine, VII (June 1811?), 283.

"Sea Stories,‘ Contemporary 3. .
ILYI (Sept. 1884).

(Review of m), Exitic (March 7,
1b, 28, 18146).

(Review of Confidence gap), 91111.9;
XVI (April 15, 1857), 174-175.

(Review of Mardi), Democratic
Review, In (July 1&9), 154—50.

(Review of Mob: Dick). Democratic
figview, m (Jan. 1852), 93

(Review of mg), Douglas g9;-

rold's §_<_:_hlligg Magazine. 111
(April 1846), 380-383.

"A Trio of American Sailor-Authors."
Dublin Un____i___v. Mfigine, ILVII (Jan.
185610 “7‘5“-

(Review of Moby Dick), Dublin Univ.
Mgggzing, max (Feb. 1852), 221-
223.

(Review of Types), Dublin Univ. Mg-
agine. XXVIII (Aug. 18%), 135-139.

 

81.

82.

83.

85.

89.

90.

91.

92.

93.

391.

(Review of Onoo), Dublin Review,
XXIII (Dec. 1847), 341-363.

(Review of Omoo), Eclectic Review,
n.s., XXVIII (Oct. 1850), 425-436.

(Review of woe), Eclectic Review,
n.s., XIX'CApril 1846), “#8-959.

(Review of 329.29.): Evangelist
(April 9, 1814-6).

(Review of Mgbz Dick). W.
No. 2284 (Nov. 8. 1851). 709.

(Review of Mgdi), Examiner, No.
2148 (March 31, 1889), 195-196.

(Review of 2122.2). 35min”, No.
1988 (March 7, 1886), 187-148.

(Review of 22222). W
Mégazing, n.s., m1 (July 1846).
6 . ,

(Review of O__m_9_o_), God ' M13!)
m (July 1847). 53-

(No title). Godez‘s Lady's Book,
XL (Feb. 1850), 149.

(Review of Mae), Godez'e M-
1122. m1 (May 18146), 238.

(Review of Mgby Dick), fiahen's
11282113. 11. (Feb. 1852). 219.

(Review 01’ 32.911112). new; has"
)0:va (Jan. 1850). 94-95.

(Review of Mardi), Qzeham's Lagg-
z 3. XIIIV (June 1849), 385.

(Review of 11299;), Graham's liga-
£1.11!» XIVIII (May 18146), 240.

(Review of Mg), Graham's m-
zine. XXXIV (June 1849), 385.

95 .

98.

100.

101 .

102.

103 .

104.

105 .

106.

107.

108.

109 .

392.

(Review of Battle Pieces). Ea;-

per's 19; Monthly Magazine, mIY
(Jan. 1867), 265.

(Review of Moby Dick). gamer“
£91 Epsthly Mggzine, IV (Dec.
1851). 137-

(Review of Redburn), Holden's
D0112: Magazine, V (Jan. 1850),
55-5 .

(Review of Ehitg Jacket ). Holden‘g

Dollar Mmine, V (May 1850).
319-315.

 

(Review of Mardi), Holden's Elle:
Hearing, III (June 1849), 370-373.

(Review of Redbm), Home m,
No. 198 (Nov. 24, 1849).

(No title). mt'e Mggcmt's 535..
XXII (Feb. 1850), 252.

(Review of Moi): 2.5.2:). 1mm-

,ag, Monthly Magzine _o_f_ Literature.
Science and m, IV, 602-604.

(Review of Rgbnrn), John Ell:
1x11 (Oct. 27. 1849). 79.

(Review of Omoo), John 31:11, 11711
(April 17, 1847), 248.

(Review of Maggi), John Bull, 1111
(April 21. 1849). 24?.

(Review of mes). John Bull. m1
(March 7, 1846), 156.

(Review of m gasket), Knickgg-
bocker Magazine. Ixxv (May 1850).
448

(Review of Omoo), W
Magazine, XIII (June 1847), 562.

(Review of Mes), Knickerbocker
Mgazing, XXVII (May 1846), 450.

110 .

111 .

112 .

113 .

114.

115 e

116 .

117 .

118 .

119.

393.

(Review of Confidean Mag). Leader,
VIII (April 11, 1857), 356.

(Review of Israel Potteg), Leger.
VI (May 5, 1855). 428.

(Review of Mgby Digg), Leader, 11
(Nov. 8, 1851), 1067—1069.

(Review of Confidence gag). Liter-
8.121 gazette, No. 2099 (April 11,
1857). 393-349.

(Review of Mgby Dick), Litergz
Gazette, No. 1820 (Dec. 6, 1851).

841 .

(Review of Redbm), M _Gé-

zettg. No. 1709 (Oct. 20, 1849),
766-778.

(Review of Mardi), Liteggz Qa-
gettg, No. 1679 (March 24, 1849),
202-203. ,

(Review of Mardi), Liteggl m.
IV (April 7. 1849). 309-310;
(April 14. 1849). 333-336: (April

21. 1349) . 351-353-

(Review of germ), 219322.11 Iogld,
XI (Aug. 21, 1852), 118-120.

(Review of 59391 M), L
Eozld, 11 (Nov. 15, 1851), 381-383;
(Nov. 22. 1851). 40340“.

(No title). Literary World, VI
(March 23. 1850). 297-299.

(Review of flhitg Jacket). 143m
World. VI (March 16, 1850), 271-
272.

(Review of Mburn). W

World, V (Nov. 10, 1849). 395-397;
(NOV. 17, 1849), “la-(+20.

(Review of 0:100), Literm World, I
(“83' 3. 1897). 319-321-

125.

126.

127.

128.

129.

130.

131.

132.

133.

134.

135 .

136.

137 e

138 .

---- -. _-

“----- -

394.

(Review of white locket), pi;-

tell'e Living As:- xxv (May t,
1850), 230-232.

(Review of goo), Lifigll's iv-
.ESAER. 1111 (M87 29. 1347).
426-427.

(Review of Omoo), Merchantg' Mag-
azine. XVI (June 1847), 641.

(Review of Mgdi). Merchantg'
£9.24. H (May 1849). 572.

(Review of Redburn), Merchante'
Mgasine. m1 (Feb. 1850), 252.

(Review of 1229.0.)- Merchantg'
m: m (W 1&6). ”91.

(Review of mg). Brains 2mm
931.5- 1g; York Muir-er (April 17.
1846).

(Review of mg). Natiom -
filaverz mg, (April 2, l ).
175.

(Review 01' 2.12.9.2). 3.12 W.
IV (July 1846), 449-450.

(No title), New Monthly Lagging
m guitarist, m (April 1849).
511.

(Review of M), M 103k Daily
Tribung (April 4, 1846).

(Review of m), m York Evan-
gelist, XVII (April 9, 1846), 60.

(Review of mg), N91 York fian-
gglisj, XVIII (May 27, 1847), 84.

(Review of m), M Yer: Ming,
III (April a, 1846), 416.

(Review of Omoo), ngple'g Jayne},
III (April 17. 1847), 223-221).

147.

148.

149.

150.

151.

152.

-m---’

--~-----

395.

(No title), Rochester gemocrat and
Agricola (Feb. 20, 1858).

(Review of 2229.9): _Scalem Advertiser
(March 25, 1846.

 

(Review of Mardi), Sartain'e Union
Magzine. V (August 1849), 126.

(Review of White Jacket). Sgtain's

Union We, VI (June 1850),
434.

(Review of ligated-n). w

Union Mm, VI (Feb. 1850),
174.

(Review of mes), Sartgin'g Union
Magazine, V (Nov. 1849), 320.

(Review of ggnfidence Mg), §atur-
MW! 111 (W 230 1857).
484.

(Review of m), §outgm Lit-
erary Message; XV (Dec. 1849),
760-762.

(Review of The Piazza Tales),

§outhern Literm Megsenggr, XXII
(June 1856), 480.

(Review of £13m), §outher_n Li},-
m Meesenggr, XVIII (Sept.

1852) . 574-575 -

(Review of finite-Jacket), Southern

Litegm Messenger, XVI (April
1850), 250-252.

(Review of 112933), Southern L ter-

sflé 1195;621:821. XII (April 1 ).
25 .

(Review of 3.122.122.)- §outher_n_ M-
terly Review. n.s., VI (Oct. 1852).

532-

(Review of Moby Dick), Southern

W Review, n.s., V (Jan.
1852). 262.

153.

154.

155 .

156.

157 .

158.

159.

160 .

161.

162.

163 .

164.

165.

166.

167.

--“----

396.

(Review of Redburn), Southern fig}:-

terlz Revieg, n.s., I (April 1850),
259-260.

 

(Review of White-Jacket), Southern

My Review, n.s., I (July
1850). 514-520.

(No title), Southern W
Review, XVI (Oct. 1849), 260-261.

(Review of 0:190), §outhern 93d
Vastern M Message}: _a_ng
3111.91. 1111 (June 1347). 333-

(Review of White Jacket). Specta-
to . XXIII. Supplement to No. 1127
(Feb. 2, 1850), 3-4.

(Review of Confidence Mpg), S ec-
tatog, In (April 11. 1857). 398-
399.

(Review of Moby Dig). Spectatog,
XXIV (Oct. 25, 1851), 1026.

(Review of Redbggg), fipggtatog,

(Review of Mardi), Spectatog, XXII
(April 21. 1849), 374-375.

(Review of Omoo), W. 1:
(April 10, 1847), 351-352.

(Review of has). 8292152522. XII
(Feb. 28, 1846). 209-210.

(Review of Mes). in; (April 14,
29, 1846).

(Review of 21233), Tai___t___'s Edinwa
Magazine. XIII (April 1846), 268.

(Review of 3229219 Times W
Supplement (April 6, 1846).

(Review of Moby Dick ). 23131. A

B__9_______ston Literary Jog-pal ‘1 (Jan.
.1852), 20-21.

168.

169.

170 .

171.

172.

173 .

174.

175 .

176 .

177 e

178.

179.

180.

181 .

Arms , George .

Arvin, Newton .

Auden, W. H.

397-

(Review of Typee), United Stages

Catholic gagging an}; Monthly
Review. VI (Nov. 1847), 580-583.

 

(Review of Tha Piazza Tales),

United Stages Daaocxatic gaziew.
n.s., VII (Sept. 1856), 172.

(Review of Hhita Jacket). United

§3ates Magazine an}; Denocratic
R vie , XXVI (April 1850), 384.

(Review of m), Unified sgatea

Magazine ag Dgoczatic Revi .
XVIII (Mav 1846). 399.

(Review of 3.99.1222): Unitg States
Magazina £19. Danocgatia Rm.
XXV (Dec. 1849), 575.

(Review of Maggi). Unigad Statea

Magazina a_n_d Daaocgatic Raviaw,

(Review of EXP—9.9..)- Univegsaliag
Review, III (July 1846), 326-327.

(Review of Confidence Man). 1:11-

ninste; Reviaw, LXVIII (July 1857).
310-311.

(No title), Uaatminsta; Reviaw,
n.s., X (July 1, 1856), 1-51.

'Moby Dick and the Village Black-
smith,‘ _N_ any; 9, C101! (May 3,
194?), 187-188. '

"Melville and the Gothic Novel,"
3 .829. R. 1111 (March 1949). 33-43.

nMelville's Mgdi,” A9,, II (Spring
1950). 71-81.

"Melville's Shorter Poems.” ER,
XVI (Oct. 1949), 1034-1046.

”The Christian Tragic Hero,“ N,Y,T.
Book Review (Dec. 16, 1945), 1, 21.

182. Babcock, C. Merton.

185. --------

186e -"""’"’.""

187. --------

188. Bader, A. L.

189. Baker, Carlos.

190. Bald, Marjorie A.

191. Belgion, Montgomery.

192. Bell, Millicent.

193. --------

194. Berchan, M.

195. Berti, Luigi.

“The Language of Melville's 'Iso-

1at0ee'.' Wasteg Folgom. X
(Oct. 1951). 285-289.

"Melville ' s Backwoods Seaman, "
Wastern Folklore, X (April 1951),
126‘133e

'Melville‘s 'Moby Dictionary',II
Vogd am. XIII (Dec. 1953). 7-8.

"Melville's Proverbs of the Sea,"

Vastern Folklora, II (Oct. 1952).
254-265.

"Melville's World's Language." _S_g.
Folklore 9., HI (Sept. 1952).
177-182.

"The Vocabulary of Moby Dick,"
Ameriaan fleech, XXVIII, 91-101.

"Marryat's 'The Ocean Wolf',' 119.
XVI (Jan. 193?), 80-82.

“01’ Art and Artifacts,“ 3.1. Tinas
Book Ra!” LII (Aug. 10, 1947), 2.

“James fielvill: An Obsured Man of
Letters." 111,3. XXI (July 1926),
261-268.

"Heterodoxy on Moby Dick." Sewanaa
3., LV (Jan-March 1947), 108-125.

"Melville and Hawthorne at the
Grave of St. John (A Debt of Pierre
Bayle)," mg. LIVII. 116-118.

"Pierre Bayle and Moby Dick,“ mpg.
LXVI (Sept. 1951), 626-648.

"Le Tatouage aux Iles Marquees,“

Bulletina _d_a la Societe d'ggthro-
pologia 1a Pgis, I (Paris, 1860),

"Fra Melville e Poe und Affasci-
nante Parenteld," L9; Fiera L t-
teraria, XLIII (Oct. 26, 1952), l.

196.

197.

198.

199.

200.

201 .

202.

203.

204.

205.

206.

Beverley, Gordon.

Bewl ey, Marius .

Birrell, Augustine .

Birss , John Howard.

399.

"Herman Melville ' 3 Confidence . "
London __T_L_S_, No. 2493 (Nov. 11,
1949). 733-

'A Truce of God for Melville."

Sawanea 1;. . LXI (Autumn 1953).
682‘700e

“The Great White Whale." 8.14.18.89.93.
No. 4735 (Jan. 28, 1921). 99-100.

"Another, but.Later, Redburn." As.
.11 2219. v1 (Jan. 1947). 150.

'A Book Review by Herman Melville,"
m. V (1932). 345-343.

I'Herman Melville and the Atlantic

199.1211." 11 and a (Sept. 29. 1934).
223-224.

"Herman Melville and Blake,“ 1 £2
9’ CI‘XVI" (May 50 193“): 311-

"Herman Melville Lectures in

Yonkers,‘ gezican Book Collectog.
V (Feb. 1934), 50-52.

'A Letter of Herman Melville,"
12.-n 2. Gun (Jan. 16. 1932). 39.

I'Melville's Marquesas." g9 VIII
(Jan. 2. 1932), 429.

"A Mere Sale to Effect' with Let-
ters of Herman Melville." Na! gga-
nhon. 1 (Jul! 1949). 239-255.

"Moby-Dick' under Another Name,"

1'. and R. (II-XIV (March 25. 1933).
06.

"A Note on Melville's Mardi,“ N

8922. CLXII (1932), 404.

"An Obscure Melville Letter," N
2211.9. CHIII (Oct. 15. 1932). 275.

'A Satire on Melville in Verse,‘I E
gag, CLIV (Dec. 9, 1933), 402.

a‘

211 O

212 .

213 .

214.

215.

216.

217.

218.

219.

220.

221.

222.

223 .

224.

Birss , John Howard.

Blackmer, R. P.

Blanck, Jacob .

Boare. G. C.

Bourne. H. 0.

Braswell , William.

400-

'The Story of Toby, A Sequel to
'1'ypee,‘I Harvard 111-R. gay” I (Win-
ter 1947), 118-119.

"Toward the Whole Evidence on Mel-
ville as a Lecturer." 583. _N_ 313$.
III (1943). 11-12.

”Travelling: A New Lecture by
Herman Melville.“ m. VII (1934).
725-728.

“The Craft of Herman Melville.“
la. 9. 3.. XIV (Spring 1938), 266-
282e '

"News from the Rare Book Sellers."

Elisgz's flask. GLII (Aug. 23.
1947). 122.

"Melvill. Henry,“ Dictiopayy 91
Natioaal Bi 5.

"Missionary Operations in Poly-

nesia,“ MW, VI (Jan.
1848), 41-58.

(Review of 132293). E. _Y_. Daily
Eibuna. Sypleneni (001.2, 1847).

"The Early Love Scenes of Mel-

ville's m," AL. XXII (Nov.
1950). 233-239.

"Melville as a Critic of Emerson,"
&. 11 Nov. 1937). 317-334-

"Melville's Opinion of Pierre."
&. HIII. M-ZSOe

"Melville's Use of Seneca.” AL.
XII (1940), 98-104.

"A Note on 'The Anatomy of Mel-
ville's Fame'," 4;. v (1934).
360-364.

I'The Satirical Temper of Mel-
ville's Pierre,“ 3;. VII, 424-438.

225. Brooks, Van Eyck.

227. Brown, E. K.

228. Buchanan, Robert.

229. -----—-

230. Burke, Kenneth.

231. Human, Ton.

232 . Cahoon, Herbert.

234. Camillucci, Marcello.

235. -------

236. Campbell, H. M.

1.01.

'Melville in the Berkshires,"
mm, I (Oct. 1947). 47-52-

‘A Beviever's Notebook," glee-an,
VI (Feb. 14, 1923), 550-551; VII
(May 9. 1923). 214-215; (May 16.
1923). 233-239: (M83 23. 1923).

262-263; (May 30, 1923), 286-287.

'Herthorne. Melville and 'Ethan
Brand',“ AL, III (March 1931),
72-75.

"Imperial Cockneydom,‘ Univgzsg
Hgvieg, IV (Hay-August 1889),
71-91.

“Socrates in Camden," ‘cadeg,
mIII (Aug. 15, 1885), 102-103.

"Ethan Brand: A Preparatory Inves-

tigation," HoQking Rev; 3, 7,
45-65.

“Tennyson's 'Hinging Grooves' and
Captain Ahab's Grooved Soul," fl,
LIVII, 423-424.

'Herman Melville: A Checklist of
Books and Manuscripts in the Col-
lections of the N. Y. Public
Library," _B_l.1_1_. 11.2.1” LY (June
195%). 263-275: (Jul: 1951). 1325-
133 .

'Hernan Melville and W. H. Hudson,‘I

&~ .151. 2399,. VIII (Dec. 1949),
131-132.

'Un Centenario Moby Dick,“ Vita g

ZenBiQEO, XXXVI (April 1953), 183-
189. ~

'Il (hands Dio Assoluto,“ Lag Fiera
Lettezarig, I (March 6, 1953), 5.

”The Hanging Scene in Melville's

2111132299..§222122253.' g;g.zva1
(June 1951), 378-381 .

237 .

238.

239.

240.

241 .

242 .

243 .

244.

245.

246.

247 .

248.

249.

250.

Canfield. F. I.

Carpenter, F. J.

Cecchi, Emilio.

Charvat, William .

Chase, Richard.

Chasles, Philarete.

Clarke. Justin wright.

Coan, T. M.

Colcord. Lincoln .

Collins, Carvel.

1.02.

'Moby Dick and the Book of Job,"
Catholic World. CLXXIV, 254-260.

"Melville: The World in a Man-of
Var," Univ. _o_f; Kane. 011:1 £91.,
III (Summer 1953), 257-264.

"Puritans Preferred Blondes: The
Heroines of Melville and Hav-
thorne," m, IX (June 1936),
253-272.

"Moby Dick dapo un secolo," Lg
Fiera Lettergig, I (March 8,
1953). 3.

“Melville's Income," 5;. xv (1943).
251-261.

”An Approach to Melville," £11, XVI
(May-June. 194?). 285-295.

"Dissent on Billy Budd," 23, IV
(Nov. 1948), 1212-1218.

"Melville's Confidence Man,“ Q,
11 (iinter 1949). 122-140-

“Sejour des deux Americains chey
les Taipies, dans l'Ile Nouloahiva,‘
Journal d_gg erats (June 22 and 25.-
18%). ‘

"Voyages reels et fantastiques
d'Herman Melville," Revue d_e__g den:
gondes (May 15, 1849), 541-570.

"MaJor Thomas Melville," The. Colum-
bian Sentinel (Oct. 30, 1832)

“Herman Melville," W World.
XXII (Dec. 19, 1891), 492-493.

"Notes on Moby Dick,“ ee , ’7
(Aug. 23. 1922). 559-5 2: (Aug- 30.
1922). 585-587.

”Melville's Mardi," 39;” 1111 (May
1951+). item “'2.

251.

252 .

253.

254.

255.

256.

257 .

258.

259.

260.

261 .

262 .

263 .

264.

265 .

Collins, Carvel.

Colum , Padraic .

Connolly, Thomas E .

Connor, C. H.

Cook, Reginald L.

Cournat , Michael .

Dahl, C.

Dahlberg, Edward.

Damon, 8. Foster.

Dana, C. A.

Davidson, Frank.

Davis , Merrell H.

DeVoto , Bernard.

403-

'Melville's Hob}: Dick,“ 3591.. IV
(Feb. 1946), 27.

"Mob: Big]: as an Epic: A Note,“
Measure, XIII (March 1922), 16-18.

"A Note on Name Symbolism in Mel-
ville,“ AL, XIV (Jan. 1954), 489-
490.

'Moby Dick," _C_l_; Critic, 1 (Oct.
1948). 3-

I'Big Medicine in Moby Dick' ,"

- Accent, VIII (Winter 1948), 102-

109.

'Essai sur Melville,‘I M, III
(AT-15., septa 19%). “2.52.

"£3331 2,195 and the Reviews of The.
Cruise _o_f; the Qacholoj," m,
LXVII (Nov. 1952), 471-472.

“Laurels for Borrowers,‘ figemen.

II (1951). 137-190.

"Pierre the Ambiguous," Hound E.
m, 11 (Jam-March 1929), 107-
118.

Why Ishmael Went to Sea,’ H» II
(1930), 281-283.

(Review of $29.93): Hgbinggg, II
(April 4, 1846), 263-266.

"Melville, Thoreau, and 'The Apple-
Tree Table'," AL, m.(Jan. 1954),
479-488.

“The Flower Symbolism in Mardi,"
m, II (1942), 625-638.

"Melville's Midwestern Lecture

Tonto 1859:. m: n (1941)! “6'57-

"Editions of m,“ fl, V (Nov.
24, 1928). 406.

266.

267.

277.

278.

280.

Dix, William S.

Duffield, Brainerd.

Duffy, Charle 8.

Duncan, Dr. William H.

. Eby, E. H.

Eliot , Alexander.

Elliott, Harrison.

Ellis. Lieutenant A. B.

Fagin, N. B.

Fei se , Edward.

Feltenstein, Rose-lie.

Fenton’ Charles A.

. Ferris, M. L. D.

Fiedler, Leslie A.

404 .

"Herman Melville and the Problem of
Evil " Pice Inst. Pamphlet, mv
(July 123401, 51-107.

'tfoby Dick: Alodern Adaptation,"
Line, I (April—May 1948), 32—40.

"A Source for the Conclusion of
Melville's Roby Dick, " A: 2:11 0,
CLXXXI (1941, 278-279.

"Toward the Whole Evidence on Mel-
ville as a Lecturer, " Am. 11 83:3 2.
II (1942), 58.

(No title), The Sessional Papers of
the House of Lords, XXIV (1844),
14- 25.

 

"Herman Melville's 'Tartarus of
Maids',” LILQ, I (1940), 95-100.

Welville and Bartleby,n Furioso,
III (Fall 1947), 11-21.

"A Century Ago an Eminent Author
Looked upon Paper and Papermaking, "
Paper Maker, XXI, 55-58.

"On Polyandry," flapular Scienci
Monthly, XXXIX (Oct. 1891), 802.

"Herman Melville and the Interior
Monologue," &, VI (Jan. 1935),

"Melville as a Reader and Student
of Byron, " AL, XXIV, 186-194.

"Melville' s Benito Cereno, " A__L_, XIX
(Nov. 1947), 5 ~255.

"The Bell-Tower: Melville and Tech-
nology," A__I_._ (nay 1951), 219-332.

"Herman Melville, " Bulletin of this

Society of American Authors, VI
(Sept .1551), 2.23- 293.

"Out of the Whole," 11211139., CLXIX
(Nov. 19, 1949), 494-496.

 

281. Fiske, John C.

282. Fogle, Richard H.

283. Fbrques , E-D.

284. Foreythe, R. S.

294. Fraibe rg , Loui s.

295. Franciosci , Massimo.

1.05.

"Herman Lielville in Soviet Criti-
cism, " Comparative Literature, v
(Winter 1953), 33,39.

 

 

"The Monk and the Bachelor: 1.191-
ville's Benito Cereno," Tulene
Studies_ in: 3 grab. III.“iT€5"“7-1 8.

'iS-Ioby Dick, la Cheese 8. 1a Baleine,
Scenes do Her," Revue deg deux
Irondea (Feb. 1. 18 5.37 T917515.

"Herman Melville in Honolulu," 1ng ,
VIII, 99-105.

"Herman 1.1 elville in the Marquesas,"
11.9: , XV (1936), 1- 15.

"Heman ilelville in Tahiti, " P. 9;,
XVI (1937), 344-357.

"Heman Melville's Father Mammy "
N and 2|. CLXXII (1937), 254—258,
27:3,- 27

"Herman i, 9AV1116 s 'The Town-Ho's
Story H! N and Q, CLXVIII (May 4,
1935), 314.

"Mr. Lewis Mumford and Melville's
Pierre," A}... II (Nov. 1930), 286-
289.

"More upon Heman Melville in
Tahiti,” P3, XVII (1938), 1—17.

(Review of Weaver's Journal up the
Straights), A__I._. VIII, 5-96.

"Another Note on Melville and Geol-
ogy," {.14. XXII (Jan. 1951), 479-487.

Melville and Geology,” AL, XVII
(1945), 50-65.

"The Estminster Review and Ameri-
can Literature, 1824-1885," &,
XXIV. 310-329.

 

"'Taipi' eden realieta," La Fieri
Letteragig. X (March 8, 195377 4.

$3
9‘

297.

298.

299.

800.

301.

30 2.

303 .

306.

307.

308.

3090

Freeman, E. Barron.

Fuller , Margaret.

Galland , R.

Garnett, R. 5.

Gary, L. Li.

Geiger , Don.

Gilman, William H.

-----“--

Ginoux, Edmond de.

406.

"The Enigma of Melville's 'Deniel
Orme'," A_L_, XVI (1944), BOB-211.

(Review of 2:13-4:43), 11’. ’_I_. Tribang
(April 4, 164677

"Helm Melville et flay. D195,"
Revue AnglovAmericaiz-Le, V—(Oct.
1927), 1-9.

 

 

”Mow-Dick and Llocha~Dick," Black-
wood'e Lagazine. CCXXVI (Dec. 19%).
€4l- 858.

 

"\Iocha Dick, or the White Whale of
the Pacific, " Times Literary imple-
me__z_1_t (July 30,1926), 509.

 

"Rich Colors and Ominous S'hz;,.ms, "
So. At1._q., XXXVII (Jan. 19.38).
41- 45-..—

Welville' a Black God: Contrary
Evidence in 'I‘he Town-Ho' 6 Story',
Adi, XXV (Jan. 1954 4) 464— 471.

"Melville's Liverpool Trip," Mil,
LXI (Dec. 1946), 543 547.

”A Note on Herman Melville in Hono—
lulu," &, XIX (May 1947), 169.

"Pour Salver Melville," Enamel}:
Revue Fran “else, 1007111 21940),

"Melville 811:1 Dante, ” Pv___I___LA, LXV
(March 1950), 329.

"Ltelville' s Moby D____ick, " Egi l.,.v(0ct
1946), 7.

"Melville's Pietra and Dante's
Inferno," PLILA. LXI? (March 1949),
73~78.

"La Reine Pomaré: femmes de Tafti
et des Liar-quizzes," Nouvellee annales

 

des voyages: III (Paris 1844.), 365.

 

310. Gleim, W. S.

312. Click, Wendell.

313. Gohdes, Clarence.

315. Gross, John J.

816. Guide, Augusto.

317. Hall, James B.

318. HBmalian, Leo.

319. Handy. E.S.C.

321. Haraszti, Zoltan.
322. Harding; Walter.
823. Hart, James D.

324. Hawthorne, Hildegarde.

407.

”Journal of Melville's Voyage in a
Clipper Ship," NEQ. II (June 1939).
120-1250

”A Theory of §2§z_Dick,” NEQ, II
(July 1929), 402-419.

"EXpediency and Absolute Morality
in 'Billy Budd',“ PMLA, LXVIII
(Hatch 1953 , IDS—110.

"Gossip about Melville in the South
Seas," 11123. X (1937), 526-531.

"Melville's Friend 'Toby'," Egg. LIX
(1944), 52‘55.

"The Rehearsal of Ishmael: Melville's
'Redburn'." 173 Q. 11., XXVII (Autumn
1951), 581-6u0.

”ASpetti dell uomo 6 del male," E2.
Fiera Letteraria, X (March 10, 1953),
3.

 

"Moby Dick: Parable of a Dying Sys-
tan," Westerq_Rev., XIV (Spring
1950), £23~226.

 

"Melville's Art,” 3521., VIII
(March 1950), 40.

"Native Culture in the Marquesas,"
Bernice P. Bishop Museeg_fimlletin,

IX (ngéy:

"Polynesian Religion," Bernice E:
Bishog_§g§eum Bulletin, XXXIV (1327)

 

"Melville Defends Typee," More
Books. XXII (June TEE)", 233—308.

”A.N0¢e on the Title 'Moby Dick',"
fig, XXII (Jan. 1951), 500-501.

Melville and Dana," AL. IX (1937).
49-55. _-

"Hawthorne and Melville," Literagx
Review, N. Y. fivening Post. II (Feb.

4. 12752 T 456. ""

 

525. Hawthorne, Julian.

326. Hayfo rd , Harri son.

327. Hayford, Harrison,
and Davis. Harrell.

528. Hayford, Harri son.

2534. Hillway, Tynus.

408.

"When Herman Melville was 'Mr.
Omoo'," Tie Literary Digest Inter—
national Book Review, IV (1928),

—— om-“.n—

"Hawthorne, Melville. and the Sea,"
NEQ. XIX (Dec. 1946), 435-452.

”Herman Melville as Office-Seeker,"
MLQ. X (June 1949), 168—175: (Sept.
I949), 377-388.

“The Sailor Poet of White-{acket,"
Boston Public Library 3., III (July
1951), 2221-228.

 

"The Sigiificance of Melville‘s
'Aeatha' Letters," ELH, XIII (Dec.
1947), 299-310.

"Two New Letters of Herman Mel-
ville," ELK: XI (1944), 76-83.

"A Man-of-War Button Divides Two
Cousins," Boston Public Library g. .
III (Jan. 19of77'51-6o.

 

"Melville's Third. Whaler,” M,
LXIv (April 1949), 241-245.

“The Source of Ahab's Lordship over
the Level Loadstone," A__I_._, XX (Nov.
1948), 325-327.

"Billy Budd: Melville's Human Sac-
rifice,“ Pacific Spectator, VI,
242-348.

 

"Melville and the Spirit of Science, "
§9_. £31.95, XLVIII (Jan. 1949),
77-88.

Melville as Amateur ZOOIOgist,”
i_vI_L_Q. XII (June 1951), 159-164.

“Melville as Critic of Science,"
ELLE. LXV (June 1950), 411-414.

IMelville's Art: One Aspect," MLN.
LXII (Nov. 1947), 477-480.

409.

339. Hillway, Tyrus. "Melville's Geological Knowledge,"
£L__. XXI (May 1949). 232—337.

340. -------- 'Melville' 8 Use of Two Pseudo-
Sciences," LLN, LXIV (March 1950),
145- 150.

341. -------— "A Note on Melville's Lecture in

New Haven," MLN, LX (1945), 55—57.

342. -------- uPierre, the Fool of Virtue," AL,
XXI (May 1949), 331- 211.

343. ---—---- "Some Recent Articles Relating to
Melville,” Melville Soc. News Let-
ter, IV (Jan.'19'4'7"-Sept. 1948);
fiplement (Nov. 1, 1948).

 

344. -------- ”TaJi's Abdication in Herman Mel-
ville's Mardi," A_L. XVI (1944).
204-207.

345. --------— "Taji's Quest for Certainty," AL,

XVIII (March 1946), 27-34.

346. -------- "The Unknown in Whale-Lore,“ A N_
. a319,. VIII (Aug. 1948), 68-69.

347. Hoffman, Charles G. ”The Shorter Fiction of Herman
MelvilleflI §__o. A____tlantic 9., LII
(July 1953), ”414-4307“

348. Hoffman, Dan G. "Melville in the American Grain, N
50. Folklore _Q‘.. XIV (Sept. 1950),
1535-191”

3‘49. -------- "Melville's 'Story of China Aster’,"

.514. XXII (Hay1950), 137.149.

350. Hollis, Sophie. Moby Dick: A Religious Interpreta-
tion,” Catholic Eorld, CLXIII (May
1946), 158-162.

 

351. Romans, G. c. "The Dark Angel: The Tragedy of
Herman Melville," NEQ, V (Oct.
1932), 699 730.

352. Horsford, Howard C. "Evidence of Melville' 3 Plans for a
Sequel to The Confidence Man, AL,

 

353. Ho ward , Leon.

356. Howorth, R. G.

357. Hudson, H. H.
358. Hughes,R. G..

359. Hull, William.

360. Hunt, Livingston.
361. Huntress, Keith.

362. --------
363. Hutchinson, William H.
364. Hyman, Stanley Edgar.

365. 1220, Carlo.

366. Jaffe , David.

367. Jerman, Bernard H.

1,10.

"Melville and Spenser: A Note on
Criticism,” LL91. XLVI (1931), 291-
2182.

IMelville's Struggle with the
Angel," M243, I (June 1940), 195-206.

"A Predecessor of Moby~Dick," LILN,
XLIX (1934), 310—311.

"itelville and Australie," Ii 839. g,
CXCIII (May 1, 1948), 188.

"The Mystery of Herman Melville,"
Freeman, III (April 27, 1921), 156-
157.

"Melville and Shakespeare,“ Shake-
spears» " Waving &'°Cist.i9§.
Bulletin, VII (July 1332), 1755-112.

"“013? DiCk: An Interpretation,"
EtC. , V (Autmun 1947), 8-21.

"Herman Melville as a Naval His—
torian," Harvard Graduates‘ 1&3-
zine. XXXIX (Sept. 1930). 22—30.

 

'tlelville's Use of a Source for
White-Jacket," Q, XVII (1945),
66-74.

"A Note on Melville's Hgdvburn,”
E83, XVIII (1945), 259~2€O.

"A Definitive Edition of @l-Dick,"
.5._L_. XXV (Jan. 1954), 472-478.

“Melville the Seawener, " New Mexico
g. , XXIII (Winter 1953), 381—415.

 

"vita silenziasa di Bartleby." _L};
Fiera Letteraria, X (March 8. 1953)»
4.

 

"Some Sources of Melville's Mardi."
in, xx (1937), 55-59.

"With Real Admiration: Liore Cor-
respondence between Melville and
Bentley," £9 XXV (Nov. 1953). 307-
313.

368.

369.

375.

376.

377.

378.

379.

(a
CO
0

381.

Johnson , Arthur.

Jones, Joseph.

-..------

. Josephson, Matthew.

Kaplan, Sidney.

-~------

Kayin , Alfred.

Kemp , Robert.

Kissane, James.

Knapp, L. LI.

Koerner, James D.

Kumner, George.

411.

"A Comparison of Manners, ” New
Republic, XX (Aug. 27, 1919), 113-

L5.

"Ahab's 'Blood—Qlench': Theater or
Metallurgy? " £14. XVIII (March 1946),
35-37.

"Melville: A 'Humorist' in 1890,"
{£13. VIII (Aug. 1948), 68.

"The Transfiguration of Hemanl.1el-
ville," Outlook, CL (Sept. 19, 1928L
809—811, 832, 836.

"Can a Whale Sink a Ship? The Utica
Daily Gazette vs. the New Bedford

Whaleman' 8 Shipping List, " New‘York
History, XXXII, 15 53-15;2

 

 

”Herman Melville and the Whaling
Enderbys," AL, XXIV, 224—229.

"The £0331 Dick in the Service of
the Underground Railroad, " Phylon,
XII (2nd Qiarter, 1951), 173-1" 6.

"'Cmoo': Melville's and Boucicault‘s,"
£3323 Q. VIII (Jan. 1950), 150-151.

"On Melville as Scripture, " PR,
XVII (Jan. 195-0) 6'7- 75

"Les Secrets de Melville," Lmrmlles
Littéraires, XXX (Aug. 23, 13W.

"Iragery, Myth, and Melville' 8
Pierre," A_I:, XXVI (Jan. 1955), 564-
572.

"The Naval Scenes in Roderick Ran—
dom," mm, XLIX (June 1:234), 593-

538.

 

"The Will: e of the White Whale,"
Kansas L125. (1954), 42-50.

"Herman Nelville and the Ohio
Press, " Ohio State Archaeological
and Fist.rical Quarterly XLV

(19761” 3t_3

 

 

382.

383.

387.

388.

389.

390.

391.

Lamont , E. H.

Larrabee , H. A.

--—--.‘--

. Las Vergnas, Hammond.

. Lease , Benjamin.

---"~..--

Levin , Harry.

Lewis , R. W. B.

Ley da , Jay.

--‘---¢-

--.I-“0".--

Lloyd, Francis V. . Jr.

Lombardo , Ago at ino.

1.12.

(No title). Athenaeum, No,

(April 27, 13.6; 5 , $412.

"Herman Melville's Early Years in
Albany," New York History, XV
(April 1934), 144—153.

2061

 

"Melville Against the World," S:.__.
At]... 9‘. . XXXIV (Oct. 1935), 410-418.

”Lettres Anglo—Americaines--Me1-
ville," ngggs g: Monde, VI (March
1951), 481-463.

"Melville and the Booksellers,"
Melville Soc. News Letter, v11

(June 1951‘)? 2.

"Melville's Cally, Gallon," Ameri-
5931 Speech. XXV (Get. 1950), 186.

 

"Don Quixote of Moby Dick," Reali-
dad, II (1947), 254-267.

 

"Melville on Hamer," {LID XXII (May
1950), 166-177.

"An Albany Journal of Gansevoort
Melville," Sgstgn 931$ Library 9. .
II (Oct. 1950), 327-547. “""m“”'

"Another Friendly Critic for Mel-
ville," m, XXVII (June 1954).
243-249.

"Ishmael Melville: Remarks on Board
of Ship Annayon," Eoston Public
Library 9‘. , I (Oct. 1949), 119-134.

"White Elephant vs. White Whale,”
Town and Country. CI (Aug. 1947),
68ff.

 

”Melville's First Lectures," Al,
XIII (1942), 391-395.

"A Review of Gabriele Baldini's
Lielvillg <_>_ 13 Ambiguité," Lo Spetfia-
{org italiano, v1 (June 1955). 275—

H
mm.)
C! U.

'Il ‘ i. “I

 

 

397.

03
‘0
a)

402.

403.

406.

Love, Gladys E., and
Wuest, Lillian C.

Lucas, F. L.

. Lundkrist, Artur.

Lutwack, L. I.

Mabbott, T. O.

MacDonald, Allen.

Machlechan , A. McK .

Mansfield, Luther S.

---‘O---

413-

lMelville and His Public," it 11 and
3, II (Aug. 1942.), 67-”1.

"Herman Melville," New Statesman,
XVIII (April 1. 1925), 750-731.

 

"Hegman Melville," Bonnie£§_Lit-
terara Magasin, XI (flee. 1942),
773-786.

 

"Herman Melville and Atlantic
Monthly Critics,” Huntington

I'Tfi'ra‘g'V 9:, XIII (Au g. 19"555’, 414.
415.

 

”A Letter of Herman Melville," N.
333 _o_., CLXXVI (Jan. 21, 1939),-176.

"Herman Melville," §_and Q, CLXII
(Feb. 27, 1932), 151-152.

nuelville's Moby Dick," £321.. VIII
(Nov. 1949), lb.

“Poem by Herman Melville," Ii an____d Q,
CXLIX (July 18, 1925), 42-43.

"A Source for the Conclusion of
Melville' s Moby' 23:13, W 11 59.9: 9,
CLXXXI (1941), 47-48.

"A Sailor among the Transcendental-
ists,n NEQ, VIII (Sept. 1935), 307,
319.

"The Best Sea-story Ever Written,"
QEEEELE. uarterly, VII (Oct. 1899),
120-130; a so in Humane Review, VII
(Oct. 1901), 2421252.

 

"Glimpses of Herman Melville's Life
in Pittsfield, 1850-1851: Some Un-
published Letters of Evert A.
Duyckinck," fig, IX (1937), 26—48.

"Melville's Comic Articles on
Zachary Taylor," ég, IX (1938),
411-418.

409.

410.

411.

412.

414.

419.

420.

421.

Maquet , Jean.

Mareden, Walter.

Marshall, B. P.

Marx, Leo.

Mather, F. J.

Matthews, Cornelius.

Matthieseen, F. O.

Matteucci, G.

Maugham, W. Somerset.

McCloekey, J. C.

LicCutcheon , ROger P.

Melville, H.

414.

"Sur Melville," ggitioue, I (Aug.-
Sept. 1946). 229-230.

"Stories from the Deeps,” John

9:41.811ng Buy, LX (Mara???) ,
1951), 181.

"Herman Melville," London Mercurz,

-.u- -..—

XI (Nov. 1924), 56-70.

 

Wéelville's Parable of the Walls,”
_S_e§anee R. , LXI (Autumn 1953), 602-
627. ‘

"Herman Melville" (review of Mum-
ford's Herman Melville) . Sat. Rev.
g£_§i£., V (April 27, 1929), 945-
946.

 

"Herman Melville," Review, I (Aug.
9, 1919), 276-278; (Augf‘la, 1919),
298-230.

"several Days in Berkshire," Liter-
ary World, VII (Aug. 24, 1850):"145;
(233."317'1850), 166; (Sept. 7,
1850), 185—186.

“Melville: I'urto delle forge,"
Delta, n.s., II (Aug. 1952), 1-9.

"Herman Melville o delle ambiguité,”
Vita e_Ponniergj XXV (Feb. 1952),
EbIJ4oa.

"Moby Dick,” Atlentic Eonthly,
CLXXXI (June I§19), 98—104.

 

"itchy Dick and the Reviewers," 29‘,
XXV (Jan. 1946), 20-31.

"The Technique of Melville's Israel
Potter," gg. it}: 9., XXVII (1928).
161—174.

(Review of Parkman’s 223 ggligofnia
9.11:1. 93%22 Trail)» BRIEF 13:19..
Iv (March SIT‘IE49), 291-253.

422. Lielville , Herman.

425.

430.

431.

482.

433.

434.

455.

Menard, Wilmon.

. Metcalf, E. M.

. Keynell, Viola.

. Milford, H. S.

. Miller, Perry.

Mills, Gordon H.

Moorman , Charles .

Mordell, Albert.

Morris. C. W.

1.15.

(Review of COOper's The Sea lions),
Literarl World, Iv (Apr-"1f28, I919),
370.

 

"The Journal of the Meteor," Egg,
II (1929), 120-125.

"Letter to hire. Hawthorne of Jan. 8,
1852, " International_£235_Review
(Dec. 1924).

 

 

"A Forgotten South Sea Paradise,"
A5391. XXXIII (Sept. 1933), 457—463;
(oct. 1933). 510.

"A Pilgrim by Land and Sea," Horn
Book, III (Feb. 1927), 3-11.

"Herman Melville, " Dublin Review,

CLXVI (Jan. ~15arch 19'22'“ 7, ‘95‘1‘5‘9 c...”

”The Text of Typee," TLS (May 27,
1925), 355.

"Melville and Transcendental1:911:u
[3. g, g. , XXIX (Autumn 1953),
556—575.

lUln'xerican First Editions at Texas
University: Herman.Melville (1819-
1891),' Uhiv. of Texas Lib. Chron.,
Iv (Summer 19517, 89-92.

"The Castaway in Moby Dick," Univ.
of Texas §tudie§_in_3nglish, XXIX
(1‘95"05‘, 231-245.

"The Significance of 'Orcturus' in
Mardi," fig, XIV (1942), 158-161.

"Melville's Pierre_and the Fortunate
Fall," 59: XXV (March 1953), 13-30.

"Melville and White {agket," §§£3
VII (July 4, 1951), 946.

"Foundations of the Theory of Signer
International Encyc10pedia 2£_Uni-
fied Science, I, 2.

 

 

436.

437.

438.

439.

440.

442.

443.

444.

445.

446.

447.

448.

449.

Morison, S. E.

Morpurgo, J. E.

Morris, Lloyd.

Mumford, L.‘

...w-.--

Myers, Henry A.

Nash, J. V.

Nichol, John W.

Nunez, Estuardo.

O'Brien. F-J.

416.

tMelville's Agatha Letter to Haw-
thorne,"t£§9fl, II (1929), 296—307.

"Herman Melville and England,“
Egnth (Sept. 1950), 180-186.

"Melville: Promethean," Open Court,
XLV (Sept. 1931), 513-526; (Oct.
1931), 621-635.

 

"The Significance of Herman.Mel—
ville,” New Republic, LVI (Oct. 10,

 

"The Writing of ‘Moby~Dick',”
American Mercury. XV (Dec. 1928),

482-490.

 

"The Young Olympian," SRL. v (Dec.
15, 1928), 514-515.

"In Nomine Diaboli," NEQ (Dec.
1951), 435—452.

(Review of Mumford's Herman Mel-

ville), N23. II (July-Iggy,—523~

5 26.

"Captain Ahab's Discovery: The
Tragic Meaning of Moby Dick," NEQ.
XV (1942), 15-34.

 

"Herman Melville, 'Ishmael' of Amer-
ican Literature," gggn_Court, XL
(Dec. 1926), 734-742.

”Melville and the Midwest," Eggé.
LXVI (Sept. 1951), 613-625.

"Melville's ‘SOiled' Fish of the
Sea." 4&2 XXI (sov. 1949), 338-339.

"Herman Melville en la Americoé
latina,” guagernos Americanos,
LXVIII (March-April 1953), 209-221.

 

"Our Authors and Authorship-—
Melville and Curtis," ggtnagjg
Monthly Magazine, IX (April 1857),

~—~m-

450. O'Brien, F-J.

451. Oliver, Egbert S.

454. -----—--

455. Olson, Charles.

457. Opity, E. A.

458. Oriana, G. H.

459. Owlett, F. C.

460. P., B. A.

461. Pafford, ward, and
Watkins, Lloyd G.

462. Paltsits. V. H.

417.

"Our Young Anthors--Melv111e," £337
nam' 5 Monthly raggzine I (Feb.
1853I',155 164.

"'Cock-A~Doodle Do!‘ and Trarscen-
dental Hocus Pocus, " E3, XXI (June
1948). 204— 216.

“Melville's Gonevil and Fanny Kem-
ble," E23, XVII (1945), 489-5'

finelville‘s Picture of Emerson and
Thoreau in The Conf1dence Man)"
0011 Eng., VIII (Nov. 194577 51-72.

 

 

"A Second Look at Bartleby," Coll.
2.5. . VI (May 1945), 4:31-4:39.

"Fear and.h!oby Dick, " Tzice a Year,
I (Fall- Winter 1938),

 

"Materials and Weights of Herman
Melville," New Republic, CXXVIII
(Sept. 8), 25:21?’15ept. 15), 17,
18, 21.

"Herman Melville: An American Seer,"
Contemgorary 3., No. 2 (Dec. 1946M

Pr-u

r‘ 4 ta ('7
oé‘O‘UUé o

 

 

"Censure of Fiction in American
Romances and.Magazines," FELLA.. LII
(March 1537), 195-214.

"Herman Melville (1819-1891): A
Centenary Tribute," Eggkman, LVI
(Aug. 1919), 164-167.

"Ageless and Mible, " £117. 831 3,
VII (Dec. 1947), 141.

“Benito Ce Memo A.Note 1n Rebuttal.”
“1neteenfh Cer tury Fiction, VII

(37‘5"IJ.Z), ‘5837l'm

"Lelville Letters," B111etin of the
11 LL: It. (July, August 19'0T._

 

"Herman Kelville's Background and
New Light on the Publication of
T3'pe ee, " Bookmen's Holiday (1943),
2;3- WEB.

 

464, Parkes, Henry Bamford.

455. Pattee, F. L.

466. Paul, Sherman.

468. Pavese, Cesare.

469. Pearce, Roy Harvey.

470. Pearson, Norman Holmes.

471. Pease, Zephaniah W.

:9-
«I
b)

. Peck, G. W.

473. Pivano, F.

475. Pommer, Henry F.

477. --------

418.

“Poe, Hawthorne, Kelville: An Essay
in Sociological Criticism," 32, XVI
(Feb. 1949), 157—165.

«Herman Kelville," éflerican Mercurz,
x (Jan. 1927), 33-43.

 

”Morgan Neville, Melville, and the
Folk Hero," §_§§g_g, CSCIV (June 25,
1949), 278.

"Melville's “The Town-Ho's Story' '01
fig, XXI (May 1949). 212-221.

"Herman Melville," La Culture, XI
(Jam—March 19:52). 53‘- :5.

"Melville's Indian-Hater: A Note on
the Meaning of The Confidence'kan,"

h

PMLA, va11 (Dec. 1952 , 942-948.

"Billy Budd: 'The King's Yarn'," fig,
III (Summer 1951), 99-114.

"'Historical Address,‘ One Hundredth
Anniversary of the New Bedford Post
Society," New Redford,Morning Mer-
cury (May 19, 1930). ”“ “'“

(Review of ggoo), égerican Review,
VI (July 184777 36-46.

 

Ioby Dick di Herman Melville,"
Convivium, XV (1943), 209-243.

"Alcune fonti del Moby Dick," 93.
Fiera Letteraria, X (Karch 8, 1353),
4.

 

"Melville's 'The Gesture' and the
Schoolbook Verses," A N and g, VI

(Jan. 1947), ISO-151.

"Herman Melville and the Wake of
the Esggg," éE, XX (Nov. 1948).

~.
‘- n.»

I.) U“Ov‘ .
"Kelville as Critic of Christian-
ity," Friends' Intelligencer, CII
1945),’T§1-123.

 

 

478.

480.

481.

482.

433.

484.

487.

483.

439.

Potter, David.

-----~- -

Proctor, Page S.

Purcell, James M.

Quennell, Peter.

Rahv, Philip.
Riegel, O. I.
Ritchie, M. C.
Rizzardi, Alfredo.
Roberts, Morley.

Rosenheim, Frederick.

Rousseaux, Andre.

-- .u‘--O-fl‘

Rubin, Joseph Jay.

Russell, Thomas.

'. Russell, W. C.

419.

“The Bradhead Diaries. 1845-1849,"
Journal of Buggers Univ. Lib., XI
(EECW. 1347) , 21- 27.

 

"Reviews of Moby Dick, " Jourial of
Rut3ers Univ. Lib. . III (1940),“

"A Source for the Flogging Incident
in Thite- Jacket, " AL. XXII (May
1953, 1.76-1.02.

Mdelville's Contribution to English,"
FHLA, LVI (1941), 797-808.

"The Author of Moby Dick, " New
Statesman. XXXIII w(Aug. 24,1329).

w—fim

604.

"The Dark Lady of Salem, " FR. VIII
(1941), 362-381.

”The Anatomy of Kelville's Fame,"
5%, III (1930), 194ff.

"Hernan Melville, "
1X2 XXXVII (Winter

Jeen' s Quarter-
JQSU‘j ’ 96"510

 

"La Poesia.Melvilli.na " La Fiera
Letteraria, x (March 8,1953):’4:3.

 

”The Sea in Fiction," Queen‘s gear-
terly, XXXVII (Winter 1330), 18-55.

 

"Flight from Home," T2.e American
Ima 30, I (Dec. 1940), l- 4.

"A travere l'oeuvre de Melville,"
igaro Li tterai re, VI (Aug. 11,
1951), 2.

 

"Mardi," Figaro Litteraire. V (Dec.

9, 1950), a

 

"Melville's Reputation, 1&7," ll
and.gb CLXXVI (April 29, 1939), 298.

"Yarn for melville'e Typee," 29” XV
(Jan. 1936), 16«29.

"A Claim for American Literature,"
North Amer. 3:, CLIV (1892), 138-
149.

 

494. Sackman, Douglas.

495. Salt, H; S.

---“--’

------ Q‘

501. Schroeder, J. W.

(n
C)
(0

Scott, Sumner H. D.

503. Scudder, H. H.

--‘-l- --.‘

--‘-I"‘.‘

420.

"The Original of Melville's Apple-
Tree Table," éE, XI (1940), 448~451.

"Herman Melville, " Universal R.. IV
(may 1889)

"Imperial Cockneydom," Scottish Art
fig, II (1889), 186-190. ‘*

 

"Marquesas Melville," Gentlefian's
Max-@2333, CCLXXII (March 1392),

245-257.

 

(Review of Weaver's Herman Mel-
ville), Literary_Guiie (May 1922).

 

"Critical Problems in Melville' s
'Benit 0 Cereno', " LI Lg, XI (Sepv.
1950), 317—324.

"Final Stage, Irony: A Re-examina—
tion of Billy Budd Criticism, " AL,
XXII (May 19505.1-273 136.

"Sources and Symbols for Melville' s
Confidenc; Man, " PMLA. LXVI (June
1951), 353 see.

 

"Same Implications of the T3? boon
Scenes in M Dby Dick, " AL. XII
(1340).91-30.

"Hawthorne's Use of Typee," E and Q,
CLXXXVII (1944), 184-186.

"Melville's 839153 Ceren__o_ and Captain
“1880's Voyages." PMLA. XLIII (1923
502’5320

"Did Melville Write 'October Moun-
tain'?" AL. XXII (May 1950), 178-
182.

"Herman Melville's 'I and My Chim-
ney'," fig, XIII (1941), 142-154.

Melville and the Shakers,” Studies
in Bibliography: Papers of tfi6”"§151
lflbrlafifiical Society or Efie_fi:iv33:
sity of vir #inia, II (1949 55):,105-
114.

 

 

 

508. Sealts, Merton.M., Jr.

512. -----~--

513. Sedgwick, Henry Dwight.

514. Sheppard, H. T.

515. Sherbo, Arthur.

516. Short, B. W.

517. Simon. Jean.

519. ”Sir Nathaniel"

421.

Wielville's Friend Atakalpa, " N and
9‘, CXCIV (Jun. 22, 1913), 37 -30.

"Melville' s N90platonica1 Orig-1118.13,?!
MLII, LXVII. 80-86.

"Melville's Reading; A.Check List of
Books owned and Borrowed," Harvard
Lib. Bul.. II (Spring 194a)T‘IZi:‘
TEE} (Xutumn 1948), 378-392: III
(Winter 1949), 119-130; III (Spring
1949), 268-277; III (Autumn 1949),
407-421: IV (Winter 1950), 98~109.

“Melville' 3 Reading: A Supplementary
List of Books Owned and Borrowed,"
HarvarE_Lib. Bu1., VI, 239-747.

 

"The Publication of twelville'
Piazza Tales, " MLN, LIX (1944), 56-

.u-nm

59.

 

”Reminiscences of Literary Berk-
shire," Century'Mag., L (Aug. 1895),
5 62.

 

"Herman Melville," The Bookman,
XLIX, 156—158.

 

'Nelville's Portuguese Catholic
Priest," éé, XXVI (Jan. 1355).
563-5 64.

"MelvilIe as Symbolist, " Univ. of
Kansas City 3., xv (Autumn—1943)."
38— 49.

"Recherches Austnlliennes sur Her-
man Melville," Revue An512_é£3£i:
caine, XIII (193 5)”5113:129.

"Travaux recents sur Herman Mel-
ville," Etudes Anglaises, VI (Ebb.
1953) , 40‘490

"American Authorship. No. IV--
Herman Melville," New'Monthly‘LIaga-
zine, XCVII (July 1853), 300- “308.

520.

521.

522.

523.

524.

530.

Skard , Sigmund.

Slochower, Harry.

Snyder, Oliver.

Spengler, Eugene R.

Starks. A. H.

Stawell, F. Melian.

St edman , Arthur.

.. --“--

Stern, Madeline B.

Stevens, Harry R.

Stewart, George R.

Stewart, Randall.

422.

"The Use of Color in Literature,"
Proceedings g£_the,mnerican Philo~
sorghical Society, XC (19467, 163-2421

 

 

 

"Moby Dick," £3, II (Fall 1950),
259-2690

"A.Note on 'Billy Budd',” Accent,
XI (Winter 1951), 58-60.

 

"Harvest in a Barren Field: A
Counterpoint,“ Western R.. XIV

M

(Summer 1950), 305-307. "

"A.Note on Lewis Mumford's Life of
Herman Melville," éL, I (Nov. 1929),
SO4~305.

"Time. Imagination and the Modern
Novelist," Nineteenth Cent: and
After , on I'fie'b'."1‘9'3'o)',’ 274-284.
"Herman Melville's Funeral," g: Y.
Daily Tribune (Oct. 1, 1891).

 

"Marquesan Melville,” 13; 1.10513
(Oct. 11, 1891), 26. '

"Melville of Marquesas," Revie!_g£'
Reviews, IV (Nov. 1891), 428-450.

”Poems by Herman Melville," Centu£y_
Magazine, n.s. . XXII (May 1893‘).
lO4~105.

"The House of the Expanding Doors:
Ann Lynch's Soirees, 1846," N. Y.
319331, XXIII (Jan. 1942), 52-51.

"Melville's Music, " Musicology, II
(July 1949), 405-421.

 

”The Two Moby Dicks," Li, XXV (Jan.
1954), 417-448.

"Hawthorne's Contributions to the
Salem Advertiser," fig, V (Jan.
1934), 327'3410

|Melville and Hawthorne," §_o_. Atl.
3. LI 435-566.

538.

542.

543.

544.

546.

Stoddard, Richard H.

Stoll, E. E.

Stone. Edwards

Strackey, J. St. L.

Sullivan, J.W.N.

Sutton, Wallace.

uThersites"

Thomas, Henri.

Thomas, Russell.

Thorp, Willard.

423.

"Herman Melville," New York Mail
agg_Express (Oct. 8, 1891), 5

ms mbolism in I Ioby Di ck, " JHI. XII
(June 1951), 440-455.

"Melville' s Pip and Coleridge' s
Servant Girl, " AL. XXV (Nov. 1953),
558 360.

”Herman Melville: Mariner and.wys-
tic," Spectator, CXXVII (May 6.
1922) , SEQ‘SCD.

"Herman Melville," Spegator, LXX
(June 24, 1893), 858-859.

"Herman Melville." TLS. No. 1123
(July 26. 1923), 495-494.

"Melville's 'Pleasure Party' and
the Art of Concealment," Pg, XXX
(July 1951), 316-327.

"Talk on Parnasaus," NYT Book Rev.
(May 2%, 1949), 7, 27.

 

”Herman Melville d'aprés son Jour-
nal de Bord," Critigue, VIII (Oct.
1952), 833-846.

"Melville's Use of Some Sources in
The Encantadas. ” AL. III (1932).
432 -456.

 

"Yarn for Melville‘ s Typee, " {3.107
(1936),16-29.

"Did.Me1ville Review Th3_Scarlet
Letter?" éEn xIv (19425, 502—55

"'Grace Greenwood' Paradies Typee, "
fig! IX (1938), 455- 457.

"Herman Melville's Silent Years,"
University 3., III (1937), 254-262,

 

"Redburn's Prosy Old Guide Book,"
PMLA, LIII (1938), 1146—1156.

550. Tomlinson, H. M.

551. Van Doren, Carl.

555. Van vechten, Carl.

556. victor, Alexander 0.

557. Vincent, H. F.

558. Vogelback, Arthur L.

559. Wagenknecht, Edward.

560. Waggoner, Hyatt Howe.

561. Wainger, B. E.

562. Walcutt, Charles C.

565. Warren, Robert Penn.

424.

"A Clue to ‘moby Dick'," Literary
Review, N. Y. Evening Post, II

(Nov. 5,1951) , 141-1429.

 

"Lucifer from Nantucket, An Intro—
duction to Nioby Dick', " Century
M gazine, CK (August 1925), 49 4~

561.
“Melville before the last," Century
4

- -ne, CVIII (June 1924), 2?2~

"Mr. xcltille' 5M0 y- Dick, " Bnokman,
LIX (April 1924), —154-15?.

   

"A.N‘te of Con ession," Notion,
cx: 'sz (Dec. 5, 19223) 6:32.

"The Later Work of Herman Melville,"
Double Dealer, III (1922), 9~

 

"Five Inches of Books," §§13_Uniz.
Lib. Gazette, XXII (April 19455“,

10‘”;
L‘;- ”’13).

 

"WFite—Jacket: An Essay in Interpre-
tatisn," 1:39 . XXII (Sept. 1949).
304~515.

"Shakespeare and Melville's Benito
Cereno," MEN, LXVII, 113-116.

"Our Contemporary, Herman Melville,"
English Jour., XXKIX (March 1950),
121-128.

 

"A Possible Verse Parody of'MObr_
Dick 11131865, " A N an__d_ _Q‘ 117151.11

194729

"Herman Melville: A Study in Di sil-
lusion, " Union College Bulletin,
XXV (Jan.1932 , 55— 62.

 

 

"The Fire Svmbolism in Lthy Dick,"
MIN, LIX (1944), 594- 310.

"Melville the Poet," 13, VIII
(Spring 1946), BOB—223.

561+. Watson, E.L.G.

565 .

570 .

571 .

572.

573.

57b.

575 .

576 .

577.

..--~-~

Ueaks . Mabel .

Weaver, R. M.

-..-- CID-I-

Veaver, Raymond W .

Weber, Val ter .

weeks , Donald .

Vegelin, Oscar .

425-

'Melville's Pierre," E3, III

'Melville's Testament of Accept-
31139:" LE3. VI (June 1933): 319‘
327.

"Moby Dick," London 3.3.2.9.!!!» III
(Dec. 1920), 180-186.

"The Meanings of the White Whale."
Univ. 93: Toronto 3.. 11 (Jan.

“Melville‘s 'Isolatoes'," 2mg. LX
(1945). 1138-1148.

"Melville's Metaphysics of Evil."

Univ. 91 Toronto Q.. IX (Jan 1940),
170-182.

“Melville's Sociality.‘ AL. XVII
(1945). 33-149. _

"Long Age and. 'Faraway': Traces of
Melville in the Marquesas in the
Journals of A. G. Jones, 1854-
1855." ELI. E. _I_. 291;. £512.. LII
(July 19%), 362-369.

“The Centennial of Herman Melville,"
Egtion. 011 (Aug. 2. 1919). 145-
1%.

IIHerman Melville.“ Bookman. LIV
(Dec. 1921). 318-326.

"Journal of Melville's Voyage in a

Clipper Ship." 15.33. II (1929).
120-125.

"Some Characteristic Symbols in
Herman Melville's Novels," Engl.
Studies (1949). 217-224.

"Two Uses of Moby Dick,“ Mg. II
(Summer 1950). 165—176.

"Herman Melville as I Recall Hill."
Colo hon. n.s., I. No. 1 (1935).
21-24.

578 .

579 .

580.

581 .

582.

583 .

58“.

585.

586.

58? .

588.

589.

590.

591.

Weir. Charles . Jr .

Wells. Henry V.

Wells. H. R.

West. Ray 3.. Jr.

White . William.

wilder . Thornton .

Williams. Stanley T.

Vitte. V.

1.26.

'Malice Reconciled: A Note on Mel-
ville's Billz Budd.‘ Univ. _o_f;
Toronto 9.. XIII (April 1944).
276-285.

“Herman Melville's C1arel.‘ £9;-
legg English. IV (19113). #78483.

"An Uno‘btrusive Democrat. Herman
Melville." fig. Ail. g.. XIXIV
(Jan. 19%). #6-51.

'Hgbz Dig and Rabelais.‘ fl.
mun (Feb. 1923). 123.

"The Unity of Bill: Budd." Hudson
E0 ’ Y. 120-128.

'Herman Melville: A New Source"
Egg; 9. (mm (June 7. 1941), #03.

"Toward an Alerican Language."
Atlantic. CXC. 29-37.

"Follow Your Inader' : Melville's
'Benito Cereno'." 1a. m. 3..
XXIII (Winter 19117). 61-76.

”Spanish Influences in American
Fiction: Melville and Others." 191

149ch 9.. XXII. 5-1L...

“Horace Greeley Reviews 9929,." 29.
mm (Jan. 19148). 911-96.

"Some Notices and Reviews of Mel-
Villa's Names in American Religious
Periodicals. 18146-1849.” AL: XIII
(May 1950). 121-127.

I'Park Benjamin on Melville's
'Mardi'." A _11 _an__d_fl. VIII (Dec.
1949). 1324311.

'Two Hawaiian-Americans Visit Her-
man Melville." 1mg. XXIII (March

"The Sociological Approach to Lit-
erature." 31.3. XXXVI. No. 1. 86-911.

592 . Woolf . Leonard.

593. Wright. Nathalie.

594. - .......

595. --------

596. ..--—---

597. ........

598. --....-..

599. Egg. E.

600. Young. James Dean.

60]. . Zanetti. Emilia.

602. Zink. Carl E.

DISSERTATIONS

1. Anderson. Charles R.

2. Baird. James R.

1.27-

'Herman Melville." Nation _a_ng
éthanaeum. mm (Sept. 1. 1923).
88.

''Biblical Allusions in Melville's
Prose." AL. III (1940). 185-199.

”The Confidence Men of Melville
and CooPer: An American Indict-

I"I‘he Head and Heart in Melville's

Mfli." grim. LXVI (June 1951).
351-362.

I'Masses from an Old Manse and Roby
Dick: The Shock of Discovery." m.
LXVII. 387—392.

“A Note on Melville's Use of Spen-
ser: Hautia and the Bower of Bliss."
514. HIV. 83-84.

,1
'A Source for Melville's 'Clarel':
Dean Stanley's 'Sinai and Pales-
tine'." M. LXII (Feb. 1947).
110-116.

'Shakespeare and Melville's Pierre.'
_B_ul_. Boston Eb. £33.. VI (Jan.
195“): “3'51.

"The Nine Gems of the Eegugg.” AL.
m (Jan. 1954). “+9463.

|'Berg. il Mahagonny. e 11 Billy
Budd tratto da Melville." La Fierg
Letteraria. m (Sept. 18. 19l+9). it.

I'Herman Melville and the Forms--
Irony and Social Criticism in
'Billy Budd'." Accent. III. 132-
139.

With Melville _i_g _t_gg South Seas
(Columbia. 1936).

Herman Melville and gimitivism
(Yale. 1997).

3.

10.

11.

12.

13.

11$.

15.

Barrett. Laurence H.

Beyanson. Halter E.

. Braswell . William.

. Creeger, George R.

Cronkhite. George F.

Culhane. Mary.

. Curl. Vega.

Davis. Merrell R.

Feidelson. Charles N.

Feiss. Edward.

Foster. Elizabeth Sophia.

Freeman . F. Barron.

Geist . Stanley.

[.28.

   

 

 

 

Fit: Mlville '
Theog: erm tsti o(Pr Princeton .
1949)

Herman Melville‘s “Clarel” (Yale.
1943)-

Hm Melville _a_.gg Chgistianitz
(U. of Chicago. 1931+)

Color Smbolism _i_n_ ihg Works _o_f;
Herman Melville: 18146-185; (Yale.

1952).

Literature _a_; Livgiihoog: Eh; Atti—
tude _o_ifl Certain American Writerg

towagd Literature a__s_ a Profession

Thoreau. Melville. r_o_e_ and 32.9.
Romantic Qgest (Minnesota. 1945).

Easteboard Masks: gm 2.; w

Subol iii the Hgvgis _o_f_ Hashozng
and Melville (Honors thesis. Rad-

cliffe. 1931).
Herman Mgivillg'g Mardi: 2.9.9. Bio -
zaps: 2!. a __Book (Yale. 1947).

 

The Idea e__t_ Smboiism in American
Writing. with Pgticulg Rgference

 

_tp Emerson .99.; Melville (Yale.
1948).

Bnon and anism_ in the M_i____nd and
at__ of H__e_____rman Melvillg (Yale. #1950).

Herman Melville's “The Confidence

_Mgg.“ _Ij; Origins pg. Meanipg (Yale.
1982).

A fiitigal _ap__d Vgiorum Edition 9;
Mglville'g "Billz Budd" izom _t_tig

Original Manuscgipgs (Harvard.
1942).

gm Mglvillg: 1.113 Tragic Vision
in; iris; Hggoic Ideal (Honors the-
sis. Harvard. 1939).

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

250

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

Gilman, William H.

Griffith. Frank C.

Grimm. Dorotlv F.

Grimwood. A.

Haave. Ethel Mae.

Hawford. Harrison.

Hefl in. Uilson.

He therington. Hugh.

Hillway. Tyrus .

Holden. V. S.

Hurley. Leonard Burwell .

Jaffe. David.

Key. Howard C .

Kimpel . Ben Drew.

Little . Thomas A.

Mansfield. Luther S .

429.

Red _a_n_d_ Herman Melville‘s Egglz
Life (Yale. 1947).

Melville and the ‘Mst £9; _Qed

(Iowa. 1953)-

Melville e_e Social Critie (Univ. of
Pennsylvania. 1948).

A am: at; is: M 929. 111259;:
9; Melville's Mardi (N.Y.U.. 1949).

Hegeeg Mellille's "Pierre‘I (Yale.
1948).

Hawthozne gig Melziile: A Biogaphi-
ga_1_ egg Czitical egg; (Yale. 1945).

M9l+8w)1;g.s Ming Legs. (Vanderbilt.
l .

22: W 21 me an __Mlvfll is
was (U. of Michigan. 1933).

Melville 929-. flieeteenth-Qeem _S_c_i-
ence (Yale. 1944).

Some Sources for Hegman Melville's

Iegaei Easier (Master's thesis.
Columbia. U. . 1932).

_i_‘lhe Amezican Noni. 1830-1850 (Univ.
North Carolina. 1932).

Me 1e's Eye 93:; Some Sogces _i_e
Mi (Master's thesis. Duke Univ..
1936).

gee Igiuence e; Trevel Literature

upon Melville's Fietionai iechnigue
(Stanford. 1953).

Melfllle'e ghiloeeehicgi 1‘11!)th
after 1851 (North Carolina. 1942).

.122 11.9.9 9.: 51.....9111810 is £131 Haulage
e; Herman Melville (Nebraska. 1940).

gm Melville: Author egd 1e!
Yozker. 1844-1851 (Chicago. 1935).

32.

33-

34.

35.

41.

1+2.

43 .

45 .

McEniry. Mrs. William H.

Oliver. Egbert Samuel .

Pommer . Henry Francis .

Reed. Arthur L.

. Raper . Gordon.

. B.0per. Gordon .

Rosenberry. Edward H.

. Runden. John P.

. Scott. Sumner M.

Scott. Wilbur S.

Sealts. Merton M.. Jr.

Starr . Nathan Comfort .

. Sweetser. Margaret S.

Shite. Viola C .

Yaggy. Elinor.

430.

__Th_e_ Young Melville 1819-1852 (Van-
derbilt. 1942).

_o__—“..-

(Hashington. 1940).

Milton's Influence 9e Herman Mei-
ville (Yale. 1946).

Soeial. Political e_n_d_ Religious
Thoeghi 1:2 Herman Melville's "Mardi"

(Master's thesis. Yale. 1942).

A3 inde; e; Melville's "Mardi."
'Mobz-Dick." "Piegre." and “Bill
Budd" (Chicago. 1943).

Melville's gee e_i: Autobiogaphicg
Material iii 329323.! (Master's thesis.

Univ. of Chicago. 1938).

as. __comc .32....1rit a .12.th as 2.1:. 11.9.1:-
gag; Melville (U. of Pennsylvania.
1953). '

M iii Melvilie's Shorter fie-
tion: 1853-;85 (Indiana. 1952).

is; Uhalieg Bacgggound e_f Mebx-Diek
(Chicago. 1938).

Melville's Origiglig: A em 2;
Some _o_f _tee Sources 91 Mebz—Diclc
(Princeton. 1943).

Eases-.9. 119.114.1313 32.9.1193 is M
Philosoleh; (Yale. 1942) .

fie See, it; file Engish Nozel from
Defoe _t_o_ Melville (Harvard. 1928).

Aspects e_f Melville's Press Style
(Minnesota. 1948).

§y_ebolism _i_n_ Herman Melville);
Writinge (North Carolina. 1934).

”Pierre": _lgez _te Melville Enigme
(washington. 1946).

 

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