MOBY DICK-Herman Melville

Slowly crossing the deck from the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side and watched how his shadow in the water sank and sank to his gaze, the more and the more that he strove to pierce the profundity. But the lovely aromas in that enchanted air did at last seem to dispel, for a moment, the cankerous thing in his soul. That glad, happy air, that winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world, so long cruel—forbidding—now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her heart to save and to bless. From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into the sea; nor did all the Pacific contain such wealth as that one wee drop.

Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side; and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood there.

Ahab turned.

“Starbuck!”

“Sir.”

“Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day—very much such a sweetness as this—I struck my first whale—a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty—forty—forty years ago!—ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain’s exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without—oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!—when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before—and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare—fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soil!—when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the world’s fresh bread to my mouldy crusts—away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow—wife? wife?—rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey—more a demon than a man!—aye, aye! what a forty years’ fool—fool—old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!—crack my heart!—stave my brain!—mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board!—lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!”

THE CHASE-FIRST DAY (3 days total)

Like noiseless nautilus shells, their light prows sped through the sea; but only slowly they neared the foe. As they neared him, the ocean grew still more smooth; seemed drawing a carpet over its waves; seemed a noon-meadow, so serenely it spread. At length the breathless hunter came so nigh his seemingly unsuspecting prey, that his entire dazzling hump was distinctly visible, sliding along the sea as if an isolated thing, and continually set in a revolving ring of finest, fleecy, greenish foam. He saw the vast, involved wrinkles of the slightly projecting head beyond. Before it, far out on the soft Turkish-rugged waters, went the glistening white shadow from his broad, milky forehead, a musical rippling playfully accompanying the shade; and behind, the blue waters interchangeably flowed over into the moving valley of his steady wake; and on either hand bright bubbles arose and danced by his side. But these were broken again by the light toes of hundreds of gay fowl softly feathering the sea, alternate with their fitful flight; and like to some flag-staff rising from the painted hull of an argosy, the tall but shattered pole of a recent lance projected from the white whale’s back; and at intervals one of the cloud of soft-toed fowls hovering, and to and fro skimming like a canopy over the fish, silently perched and rocked on this pole, the long tail feathers streaming like pennons.

A gentle joyousness—a mighty mildness of repose in swiftness, invested the gliding whale. Not the white bull Jupiter swimming away with ravished Europa clinging to his graceful horns; his lovely, leering eyes sideways intent upon the maid; with smooth bewitching fleetness, rippling straight for the nuptial bower in Crete; not Jove, not that great majesty Supreme! did surpass the glorified White Whale as he so divinely swam.

On each soft side—coincident with the parted swell, that but once leaving him, then flowed so wide away—on each bright side, the whale shed off enticings. No wonder there had been some among the hunters who namelessly transported and allured by all this serenity, had ventured to assail it; but had fatally found that quietude but the vesture of tornadoes. Yet calm, enticing calm, oh, whale! thou glidest on, to all who for the first time eye thee, no matter how many in that same way thou may’st have bejuggled and destroyed before.

And thus, through the serene tranquillities of the tropical sea, among waves whose hand-clappings were suspended by exceeding rapture, Moby Dick moved on, still withholding from sight the full terrors of his submerged trunk, entirely hiding the wrenched hideousness of his jaw. But soon the fore part of him slowly rose from the water; for an instant his whole marbleized body formed a high arch, like Virginia’s Natural Bridge, and warningly waving his bannered flukes in the air, the grand god revealed himself, sounded, and went out of sight. Hoveringly halting, and dipping on the wing, the white sea-fowls longingly lingered over the agitated pool that he left.

With oars apeak, and paddles down, the sheets of their sails adrift, the three boats now stilly floated, awaiting Moby Dick’s reappearance.

“An hour,” said Ahab, standing rooted in his boat’s stern; and he gazed beyond the whale’s place, towards the dim blue spaces and wide wooing vacancies to leeward. It was only an instant; for again his eyes seemed whirling round in his head as he swept the watery circle. The breeze now freshened; the sea began to swell.

“The birds!—the birds!” cried Tashtego.

In long Indian file, as when herons take wing, the white birds were now all flying towards Ahab’s boat; and when within a few yards began fluttering over the water there, wheeling round and round, with joyous, expectant cries. Their vision was keener than man’s; Ahab could discover no sign in the sea. But suddenly as he peered down and down into its depths, he profoundly saw a white living spot no bigger than a white weasel, with wonderful celerity uprising, and magnifying as it rose, till it turned, and then there were plainly revealed two long crooked rows of white, glistening teeth, floating up from the undiscoverable bottom. It was Moby Dick’s open mouth and scrolled jaw; his vast, shadowed bulk still half blending with the blue of the sea. The glittering mouth yawned beneath the boat like an open-doored marble tomb; and giving one sidelong sweep with his steering oar, Ahab whirled the craft aside from this tremendous apparition. Then, calling upon Fedallah to change places with him, went forward to the bows, and seizing Perth’s harpoon, commanded his crew to grasp their oars and stand by to stern.

Now, by reason of this timely spinning round the boat upon its axis, its bow, by anticipation, was made to face the whale’s head while yet under water. But as if perceiving this stratagem, Moby Dick, with that malicious intelligence ascribed to him, sidelingly transplanted himself, as it were, in an instant, shooting his pleated head lengthwise beneath the boat.

Through and through; through every plank and each rib, it thrilled for an instant, the whale obliquely lying on his back, in the manner of a biting shark, slowly and feelingly taking its bows full within his mouth, so that the long, narrow, scrolled lower jaw curled high up into the open air, and one of the teeth caught in a row-lock. The bluish pearl-white of the inside of the jaw was within six inches of Ahab’s head, and reached higher than that. In this attitude the White Whale now shook the slight cedar as a mildly cruel cat her mouse. With unastonished eyes Fedallah gazed, and crossed his arms; but the tiger-yellow crew were tumbling over each other’s heads to gain the uttermost stern.

And now, while both elastic gunwales were springing in and out, as the whale dallied with the doomed craft in this devilish way; and from his body being submerged beneath the boat, he could not be darted at from the bows, for the bows were almost inside of him, as it were; and while the other boats involuntarily paused, as before a quick crisis impossible to withstand, then it was that monomaniac Ahab, furious with this tantalizing vicinity of his foe, which placed him all alive and helpless in the very jaws he hated; frenzied with all this, he seized the long bone with his naked hands, and wildly strove to wrench it from its gripe. As now he thus vainly strove, the jaw slipped from him; the frail gunwales bent in, collapsed, and snapped, as both jaws, like an enormous shears, sliding further aft, bit the craft completely in twain, and locked themselves fast again in the sea, midway between the two floating wrecks. These floated aside, the broken ends drooping, the crew at the stern-wreck clinging to the gunwales, and striving to hold fast to the oars to lash them across.

At that preluding moment, ere the boat was yet snapped, Ahab, the first to perceive the whale’s intent, by the crafty upraising of his head, a movement that loosed his hold for the time; at that moment his hand had made one final effort to push the boat out of the bite. But only slipping further into the whale’s mouth, and tilting over sideways as it slipped, the boat had shaken off his hold on the jaw; spilled him out of it, as he leaned to the push; and so he fell flat-faced upon the sea.

MACBETH-Shakespeare

“Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.

At that moment the two wakes were fairly crossed, and instantly, then, in accordance with their singular ways, shoals of small harmless fish, that for some days before had been placidly swimming by our side, darted away with what seemed shuddering fins, and ranged themselves fore and aft with the stranger’s flanks. Though in the course of his continual voyagings Ahab must often before have noticed a similar sight, yet, to any monomaniac man, the veriest trifles capriciously carry meanings.

“Swim away from me, do ye?” murmured Ahab, gazing over into the water. There seemed but little in the words, but the tone conveyed more of deep helpless sadness than the insane old man had ever before evinced. But turning to the steersman, who thus far had been holding the ship in the wind to diminish her headway, he cried out in his old lion voice,-“Up helm! Keep her off round the world!” Round the world! There is much in that sound to inspire proud feelings; but whereto does all that circumnavigation conduct? Only through numberless perils to the very point whence we started, where those that we left behind secure, were all the time before us.

Were this world an endless plain, and by sailing eastward we could for ever reach new distances, and discover sights more sweet and strange than any Cyclades or Islands of King Solomon, then there were promise in the voyage. But in pursuit of those far mysteries we dream of, or in tormented chase of the demon phantom that, some time or other, swims before all human hearts; while chasing such over this round globe, they either lead us on in barren mazes or midway leave us whelmed. -Herman Mellville ‘Moby Dick’

And let me in this place movingly admonish you, ye ship-owners of Nantucket! Beware of enlisting in your vigilant fisheries any lad with lean brow and hollow eye; given to unseasonable meditativeness; and who offers to ship with the Phaedon instead of Bowditch in his head. Beware of such an one, I say; your whales must be seen before they can be killed; and this sunken-eyed young Platonist will tow you ten wakes round the world, and never make you one pint of sperm the richer. Nor are these monitions at all unneeded. For nowadays, the whale-fishery furnishes an asylum for many romantic, melancholy, and absent-minded young men, disgusted with the carking cares of earth, and seeking sentiment in tar and blubber. Childe Harold not unfrequently perches himself upon the mast-head of some luckless disappointed whale-ship, and in moody phrase ejaculates:—

“Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand blubber-hunters sweep over thee in vain.”

Very often do the captains of such ships take those absent-minded young philosophers to task, upbraiding them with not feeling sufficient “interest” in the voyage; half-hinting that they are so hopelessly lost to all honourable ambition, as that in their secret souls they would rather not see whales than otherwise. But all in vain; those young Platonists have a notion that their vision is imperfect; they are short-sighted; what use, then, to strain the visual nerve? They have left their opera-glasses at home.

“Why, thou monkey,” said a harpooneer to one of these lads, “we’ve been cruising now hard upon three years, and thou hast not raised a whale yet. Whales are scarce as hen’s teeth whenever thou art up here.” Perhaps they were; or perhaps there might have been shoals of them in the far horizon; but lulled into such an opium-like listlessness of vacant, unconscious reverie is this absent-minded youth by the blending cadence of waves with thoughts, that at last he loses his identity; takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature; and every strange, half-seen, gliding, beautiful thing that eludes him; every dimly-discovered, uprising fin of some undiscernible form, seems to him the embodiment of those elusive thoughts that only people the soul by continually flitting through it. In this enchanted mood, thy spirit ebbs away to whence it came; becomes diffused through time and space; like Crammer’s (Thomas Cranmer) sprinkled Pantheistic ashes, forming at last a part of every shore the round globe over.

There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God. But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek you drop through that transparent air into the summer sea, no more to rise for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists! -Herman Mellvile

An abbot from a Benedictine monastery near Bologna visited Troupe Tripudiante in order to witness the acrobatics of Beatrice. Word spread throughout the region of the strange camp of performers traveling with Man Tower. Wanderers, especially performers, actors, were viewed with suspicion, however times were changing and traveling men were becoming more common in the region of Lombard, the northern lands leading to Frankish and German territories. Men moving about were becoming associated with trade, the exchanging of goods. It was good for all for men to travel and interact.

After confessing her sins to the abbot, Beatrice spent timed conversing with the priest. Cassandra joined them, enjoying the sunshine and the absorption of conversation.

“Father, do you enjoy my tumbling?”

“Yes. I have a special place in my heart for such activity. Beatrice you are so graceful and skillful with the body God blessed you with.”

“You honor me. Yes. It is God I thank for my joy and abilities. I see that so clearly. What did you think of the children singing? I saw you listening.”

“Their voices are those of angels.”

“Yes it will be a grand show. You must return to the abbey, retrieving your monks. The more the merry. Bring all the consecrated men in order to bless and witness our show.”

“We will see my child.”

Cassandra joined the conversation. “Father there is more to your admiration. Please speak.”

“It was when I was a younger monk, long before I was an abbot, although even during those times I strayed toward the abbacy, being a leader amongst the consecrated. I sought the friendship of the abbot above all others. He was a man of power. Now, I see it was the errant behavior of a young man enamored with authority, an individual glorifying hierarchy onto itself. I wanted to lead not for God, rather for vainglory. I valued the abbot because he was an abbot, someone who surpassed his peers. During those early days in the monastery, I reported to the abbot the things I observed, events and behavior I noticed as I watched my brothers. Through nervousness, I became a judge. Why waste words? I know the truth. I was a self-appointed spy. I never felt I fit in with my brothers so I secretly turned on them, defensiveness causing me to take offense. Ignorantly, I tried to prove my piety by overseeing my brothers, wielding hidden authority. One brother, I determined, demanded severe immediate attention. He was dumb, hopeless with his horrendous Latin. The novice was a dunce, a disrespect as he previously tramp about the earth as an acrobat and actor. His behavior had been suspicious for some time. I did not like the dumb looking brother the first moment I set eyes upon him. My first impression denouncingly convinced he was an absolute lowering of standards. He was not participating in prayers properly, appearing gloomy and downtrodden, missing sessions. I had my eye severely upon him the whole time. The man was desperate and did not belong. It was obvious. Then suddenly to my chagrin, his demeanor changed. His participation in prayers and chanting did not improve, yet he was smiling, losing the dismal nature everyone associated with him. The hopeless man somehow gained hope. I was dumbfounded. I keenly noticed he was missing matins regularly. Mysteriously, none of my brothers or superiors made an issue of the fact. I determined the abbot must do something. Underhandedly, I conducted every effort to ensure proper action was taken. The abbot, whom I considered my best friend, decided the two of us would follow our wayward brother. We saw him enter a private storage area, a large room of no consequence, simply used for storage. The following day we investigated the room, discovering the deeds of our puzzling brother. Behind crates and items in storage, he created a secret open space with a forgotten statue of Our Lady overlooking matters. The abbot and I created our own space, a place for hiding. We would uncover matters completely. We occupied our spying spot that night. We hid ourselves well, waiting for the appearance of our mischievous brother. When he showed himself, we watched. Our stupid brother dropped to his knees in prayer, begging Our Holy Mother for forgiveness. His inability to master communal prayers disturbed him. His memory was miserable. His lessons were impossible to keep in his head. He admitted he would never learn Latin. He moved on to plead for understanding regarding his difficulty in learning, his poor reading skills, apologizing for his overall intellectual inferiority. I admit it was difficult to observe, especially in regard to the fact, that I was one of the harshest critics of the brother. My poor brother was falling apart at the seams. Addressing the Holiest of Mothers, my pitiful brother explained that the only thing he was good at was tumbling and acrobatics. He told the Virgin Mary that he would perform for her as he did in the carnivals for men. He dedicated his deeds and heart to her Immaculate Heart, the loveliest of women as he named her, expressing the desire she find joy in his efforts. He shed so many tears during this difficult to witness confessing. Then to our astonished amazement our brother began flipping about, turning summersaults in the air, walking upon his hands. His deeds from the traveling carnivals, he performed for the Mother of God. We knew not what to think, and then things advanced to the supernatural. The most Blessed Lady stepped down from being merely a statue. Angels appeared from the very air. Our Lady was a lady before us. The angels danced about with our brother, performing the tumbling and gymnastics along with our brother. The angels laughed, rolling about upon the ground in sheer delight as our brother threw himself about the room. The angels who were not tumbling with our brother were flying about conducting applause. The Blessed Lady, in awe, stood clapping, her mouth radiating with the most beautiful smile. She elegantly laughed. Our brother noticed nothing of the heavenly amusement he was creating. The abbot and I could only watch, spellbound, overwhelmed with humility. When our brother finally completed his blissful performance and departed, we sulked back to the abbot’s office, falling upon the ground begging for mercy. We both shed many tears of sorrow. We prayed throughout the night, until morning came, when the abbot had our acrobatic brother brought before him. We begged forgiveness from our brother. We told him of everything we observed. He marveled at the vision of the angels and Blessed Mother adoring his performance. We assured him they loved his efforts, and the abbot promised that from now on the brother would be granted every moment he desired to perform for the Holy Mother. I was fortunate to be allowed to watch our brother every now and then as he entertained for his heavenly audience. From the night forward, he was the one I desired to have as my best friend. Someone in such favor with Our Blessed Lady I wanted as close to me as I could establish. Never did I see the fantastic again, yet I knew they were enjoying. A Divine ambiance adorned the space. One morning, about seven years later, our tumbling brother was found dead in the space of his performances. There were no signs of death, and most mystifying, the smile upon his face expressed sheer joy. The abbot whispered to me that he was positive Our Holy Mother took our brother up to heaven so he could perform for all of the attending.”

“So my friends, this is the reason I am so found of the art of gymnastics. One of the children, visiting the abbey, described a young lady, in company of a troupe of traveling actors, who possessed the gymnastic skills of Brother Andrew. So grand are my memories of my brother that I had to witness the young woman myself. I will positively affirm that Beatrice, you do possess talent on par with my blessed brother.”

“Thank you father.”

“I should thank you. You have ignited exceptional memories.”

Cassandra spoke. “Father please come watch the children sing some more. They have practiced diligently for days. They are getting quite good. I have them positioned properly so their tones and pitches harmonize, creating a unified voice of beauty. They will perform for their families and neighbors during the upcoming show. We have performed only a few times since departing from Assisi. This will be our first series of performances. We are sinners who now find pleasure in teaching children, performing for people of good will, and even those of complex will. The crowds grow bigger. The attention our leader, Man Tower, attracts is substantial. I am nervous, yet confident we will prove worthy. You must come hear the children sing, and then I will describe some of our acts. You have not met Jacopone. He is amazingly gifted in all the arts of performance; skilled in the most simple and complicated practical tasks. The plays our elder writes, especially those of a Biblical nature, you will find enlightening. I hope that is the case for there is nothing heretical in his ideology. He is an intelligent layman of the church.”

“Young lady you say many things at one time. Please let us return to the children. One matter at a time. From there we will allow God to guide our steps.”

2 Samuel chapter 6

12 And it was told King David, “The Lord has blessed the household of O′bed-e′dom and all that belongs to him, because of the ark of God.” So David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of O′bed-e′dom to the city of David with rejoicing; 13 and when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six paces, he sacrificed an ox and a fatling. 14 And David danced before the Lord with all his might; and David was girded with a linen ephod. 15 So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the horn.

16 As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window, and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart. 17 And they brought in the ark of the Lord, and set it in its place, inside the tent which David had pitched for it; and David offered burnt offerings and peace offerings before the Lord. 18 And when David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the peace offerings, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts, 19 and distributed among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, to each a cake of bread, a portion of meat,[g] and a cake of raisins. Then all the people departed, each to his house.

20 And David returned to bless his household. But Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David, and said, “How the king of Israel honored himself today, uncovering himself today before the eyes of his servants’ maids, as one of the vulgar fellows shamelessly uncovers himself!” 21 And David said to Michal, “It was before the Lord, who chose me above your father, and above all his house, to appoint me as prince over Israel, the people of the Lord—and I will make merry before the Lord. 22 I will make myself yet more contemptible than this, and I will be abased in your[h] eyes; but by the maids of whom you have spoken, by them I shall be held in honor.”