shǒuyè>> wénxué>> 历险小说>> 'ěr màn · méi 'ěr wéi 'ěr Herman Melville   měi guó United States   měi guó chóngjiàn gōng huà   (1819niánbāyuè1rì1891niánjiǔyuè28rì)
bái jīng The Whale
  běn piàn shì gēn měi guó míng zhù méi 'ěr wéi 'ěr de tóng míng xiǎo shuō gǎi biānbèi duō bān shàng píng zhōng zuì chū míng de shì 1956 nián gāo . pài zhù yǎn de bǎn běn liǎozhè bǎn běn shì 1998 nián fān pāi de diàn shì diàn yǐng bǎn běnnián mài de gāo . pài chū yǎn zhōng juésè
     bái jīng MobyDic) shì shì shàng wěi de xiǎo shuō zhī quán shū de jiāo diǎn zhōng nán tài píng yáng tiáo míng jiào · de bái jīng jīng chuán kuò (Pequod) hào de chuán cháng 'ā (Ahab) duì yòu gòng dài tiān de chóu hènā zài háng xíng zhōng bèi · yǎo diào tiáo tuǐ zhì bào chóuzhǐ huī kuò hào huán háng quán qiú zhuī zōngzhōng xiàn liǎo jīng guò sān tiān fàng xià xiǎo tǐng jǐn zhuīsuī rán zhōng liǎo zhè tiáo bái jīngdàn shí fēn wán qiáng jiǎo huáyǎo suì liǎo xiǎo tǐng zhuàng chén liǎo chuán tuō zhe jīng chuán yóu kāi shíshéng tào zhù 'ā jiǎo liǎoquán chuán rén jìn jiē miè dǐngzhǐ yòu shuǐ shǒu jiè zhe yóu guān cái gǎi zhì de jiù shēng 'ér táode xìng mìngzhěng shì zhè shuǐ shǒu méi 'ěr (Ishmael) shù de fāng shì zhǎn kāi
    《 bái jīng zhōng de xùn
     bái jīng   bái jīng duō rén xiàn, MichaelDrosnin yòng de fāng děng liè piān lùn wén de fāng xiāng xiāng dāng yán shǎo rén yòng xiāng tóng de fāng hěn róng xiàn dào chù cáng yòu jiù yīng wáng qīn dìng bǎn deshèng jīng zhǎo dào UFO yàngzhè xià zhěng huái chū lái liǎo。 MichaelDrosnin miàn duì zhè xiē píngzàixīn wén zhōu kānde fǎng wèn shuō jiǎ de píng zhěnéng gòu zàibái jīng zhǎo dào mǒu wèi zǒng bèi shā de xùn me jiù huì xiāng xìn men zhè duì píng zhě lái shuōshì tiǎo zhànér zhè chǎng zhàn zhēng dào zhè shí hòu jīng shì xiāng dāng bái huà liǎo
     ào zhōu guó xué de wèi suàn jiào shòu BrendanMcKay, jiù jiē shòu zhè tiǎo zhànzhǎo dào liǎo xià yìn zǒng gān bèi dexùn ”, bìng qiě fàng zài de wǎng zhàn shàng
     zhí xíng de IGANDHI, I shì de míng Indira de suō xiěàn zhù shì gān (Gandhi)。 àn zhù héng xíng shì thebloodydeed。 wáng de yuē shì zhù gān shì huì bèi shā deshì shí shàng kǎi dàn zhǎo dào wèi zǒng hái zàibái jīng zhǎo dào lín kěn bīnkěn děng míng rén bèi shā de xùn yòng de shì gēn MichaelDrosnin yàng de fāng zhè xià fán liǎo dào chù cáng yòu shì shì shēng huó zhōu zāo mǎn tiān děng zhe men yòng diàn nǎo jiě zhè wèi BrendanMcKay shì hěn yòu de rén shuō jiào zhí zài xún zhǎo guò men xiǎng zhǎo de shì yòu guān jiàng lín de xùn ér zhè huí yòng de shìdàn shū》, yīn wéi MichaelDrosnin zàishèng jīng zhōng dào zhè shì běnfēng yìn zhī shū”, gào zhù sài lái lín de ”, ér xiàng láidōu bèi shì wéi shì sài de。 BrendanMcKay zhào wèi téng děng rén de fāng kǎo liǎo xiē guān jiàn xiàng sonofgod, jìn xíng fēn jiēguǒ xiàn gēn sonofman jiào kào jìnzhè xià yóushén zhī biàn chéngrén zhī ”, zhěng lùn zhàn gēn zhe biàn hùn dùn shì míng liǎo


  Moby-Dick, also known as The Whale , is a novel first published in 1851 by American author Herman Melville. Moby-Dick is often referred to as a Great American Novel and is considered one of the treasures of world literature. The story tells the adventures of the wandering sailor Ishmael, and his voyage on the whaleship Pequod, commanded by Captain Ahab. Ishmael soon learns that Ahab seeks one specific whale, Moby Dick, a ferocious, enigmatic white sperm whale. In a previous encounter, the whale destroyed Ahab's boat and bit off his leg. Ahab intends to take revenge.
  
  In Moby-Dick, Melville employs stylized language, symbolism, and metaphor to explore numerous complex themes. Through the main character's journey, the concepts of class and social status, good and evil, and the existence of gods are all examined as Ishmael speculates upon his personal beliefs and his place in the universe. The narrator's reflections, along with his descriptions of a sailor's life aboard a whaling ship, are woven into the narrative along with Shakespearean literary devices such as stage directions, extended soliloquies and asides.
  
  Often classified as American Romanticism, Moby-Dick was first published by Richard Bentley in London on October 18, 1851 in an expurgated three-volume edition titled The Whale, and weeks later as a single volume, by New York City publisher Harper and Brothers as Moby-Dick; or, The Whale on November 14, 1851. Although the book initially received mixed reviews, Moby-Dick is now considered one of the greatest novels in the English language.
  
  The story is based on the actual events around the whaleship Essex, which was attacked by a sperm whale while at sea and sank.
  
  Background
  
  Melville published Moby-Dick in 1851 during a productive time in American literature, which also produced novels such as Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter and Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. Two actual events inspired Melville's tale. One was the sinking of the Nantucket ship Essex, in 1820 after it was rammed by a large sperm whale 2,000 miles (3,200 km) from the western coast of South America. First mate Owen Chase, one of eight survivors, recorded the events in his 1821 Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex. Already out-of-print, the book was rare even in 1851. Knowing that Melville was looking for it, his father-in-law, Lemuel Shaw, managed to find a copy and buy it for him. When Melville received it, he fell to it almost immediately, heavily annotating it.
  
  The other event was the alleged killing in the late 1830s of the albino sperm whale Mocha Dick, in the waters off the Chilean island of Mocha. Mocha Dick had dozens of harpoons from attacks by other whalers, and appeared to attack ships with premeditated ferocity. One of his battles with a whaler served as subject for an article by explorer Jeremiah N. Reynolds in the May 1839 issue of The Knickerbocker, New York Monthly Magazine. Melville was familiar with the article, which described "an old bull whale, of prodigious size and strength... [that] was white as wool". Significantly, Reynolds writes a first-person narration that serves as a frame for the story of a whaling captain he meets. The captain resembles Ahab and suggests a possible symbolism for whales in that, when his crew first encounters Mocha Dick and cowers from him, the captain rallies them thus: "'Mocha Dick or the d----l [devil],' said I, 'this boat never sheers off from any thing that wears the shape of a whale.'"
  
  Mocha Dick had over 100 encounters with whalers between the 1810's and the 1830's. He was described as being giant covered in barnacles. Although he was the most famous, Mocha Dick was not the only white whale in the sea , nor the only whale to attack hunters, and the "Kathleen" in 1902.
  
  Also inspirational for the novel were Melville's experiences as a sailor, in particular during 1841-1842 on the whaleship Acushnet. He had already drawn on his different sailing experiences in previous novels such as Mardi but he had never focused specifically on whaling. Melville had read Chase's account before sailing on the Acushnet in 1841; he was excited about sighting Captain Chase himself, who had returned to sea. During a mid-ocean "gam" (rendezvous) he met Chase's son William, who loaned him his father's book.
  
  Moby-Dick contains large sections— most of them narrated by Ishmael— that seemingly have nothing to do with the plot but describe aspects of the whaling business. Melville believed that no book up to that time had portrayed the whaling industry in as fascinating or immediate a way as he had experienced it. Early Romantics also proposed that fiction was the exemplary way to describe and record history, so Melville wanted to craft something educational and definitive. Despite his own interest in the subject, Melville struggled with composition, writing to Richard Henry Dana, Jr. on May 1, 1850:
  
   I am half way in the work ... It will be a strange sort of book, tho', I fear; blubber is blubber you know; tho' you might get oil out of it, the poetry runs as hard as sap from a frozen maple tree; — and to cook the thing up, one must needs throw in a little fancy, which from the nature of the thing, must be ungainly as the gambols of the whales themselves. Yet I mean to give the truth of the thing, spite of this.
  
  There are scholarly theories that purport a literary legend of two Moby-Dick tales, one being a whaling tale as was Melville's experience and affinity, and another deeper tale, inspired by his literary friendship with and respect for Nathaniel Hawthorne. These merged into the latter, the morality tale. Hawthorne and his family had moved to a small red farmhouse near Lenox, Massachusetts at the end of March 1850. He became friends with Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. and Herman Melville beginning on August 5, 1850, when the authors met at a picnic hosted by a mutual friend. Melville had just read Hawthorne's short story collection Mosses from an Old Manse, and his unsigned review of the collection, titled "Hawthorne and His Mosses", was printed in the Literary World on August 17 and August 24. Melville, who was composing Moby-Dick at the time, wrote that these stories revealed a dark side to Hawthorne, "shrouded in blackness, ten times black". Melville dedicated Moby-Dick (1851) to Hawthorne: "In token of my admiration for his genius, this book is inscribed to Nathaniel Hawthorne."
  Themes
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  Moby-Dick is a symbolic work, but also includes chapters on natural history. Major themes include obsession, religion, idealism versus pragmatism, revenge, racism, sanity, hierarchical relationships, and politics. All of the members of the crew↓ have biblical-sounding, improbable, or descriptive names, and the narrator deliberately avoids specifying the exact time of the events (such as the giant whale disappearing into the dark abyss of the ocean) and some other similar details. These together suggest that the narrator — and not just Melville — is deliberately casting his tale in an epic and allegorical mode.[citation needed]
  
  The white whale has also been seen as a symbol for many things, including nature and those elements of life that are out of human control.Ch 42 The character Gabriel, "in his gibbering insanity, pronounc[ed] the White Whale to be no less a being than the Shaker God incarnated; the Shakers receiving the Bible." Melville mentions the Matsya Avatar of Vishnu, the first among ten incarnations when Vishnu appears as a giant fish on Earth and saves creation from the flood of destruction. Melville mentions this while discussing the spiritual and mystical aspects of the sailing profession and he calls Lord Vishnu as the first among whales and the God of whalers.
  
  The Pequod's quest to hunt down Moby Dick itself is also widely viewed as allegorical. To Ahab, killing the whale becomes the ultimate goal in his life, and this observation can also be expanded allegorically so that the whale represents everyone's goals. Furthermore, his vengeance against the whale is analogous to man's struggle against fate. The only escape from Ahab's vision is seen through the Pequod's occasional encounters, called gams, with other ships. Readers could consider what exactly Ahab will do if he, in fact, succeeds in his quest: having accomplished his ultimate goal, what else is there left for him to do? Similarly, Melville may be implying that people in general need something to reach for in life, or that such a goal can destroy one if allowed to overtake all other concerns. Some such things are hinted at early on in the book, when the main character, Ishmael, is sharing a cold bed with his newfound friend, Queequeg:
  
   ... truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more.
   — Moby-Dick, Ch. 11
  
  Ahab's pipe is widely looked upon as the riddance of happiness in Ahab's life. By throwing the pipe overboard, Ahab signifies that he no longer can enjoy simple pleasures in life; instead, he dedicates his entire life to the pursuit of his obsession, the killing of the white whale, Moby Dick. A number of biblical themes can also be found in the novel. The book contains multiple implicit and explicit allusions to the story of Jonah, in addition to the use of certain biblical names (see below).
  
  Ishmael's musings also allude to themes common among the American Transcendentalists and parallel certain themes in European Romanticism and the philosophy of Hegel. In the poetry of Whitman and the prose writings of Emerson and Thoreau, a ship at sea is sometimes a metaphor for the soul.
  Plot
  
  "Call me Ishmael," Moby-Dick begins, in one of the most recognizable opening lines in English-language literature. The narrator, an observant young man setting out from Manhattan, has experience in the merchant marine but has recently decided his next voyage will be on a whaling ship. On a cold, gloomy night in December, he arrives at the Spouter-Inn in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and agrees to share a bed with a then-absent stranger. When his bunk mate, a heavily tattooed Polynesian harpooner named Queequeg, returns very late and discovers Ishmael beneath his covers, both men are alarmed, but the two quickly become close friends and decide to sail together from Nantucket, Massachusetts on a whaling voyage.
  
  In Nantucket, the pair signs on with the Pequod, a whaling ship that is soon to leave port. The ship’s captain, Ahab, is nowhere to be seen; nevertheless, they are told of him – a "grand, ungodly, godlike man," according to one of the owners, who has "been in colleges as well as 'mong the cannibals." The two friends encounter a mysterious man named Elijah on the dock after they sign their papers and he hints at troubles to come with Ahab. The mystery grows on Christmas morning when Ishmael spots dark figures in the mist, apparently boarding the Pequod shortly before it sets sail that day.
  
  The ship’s officers direct the early voyage while Ahab stays in his cabin. The chief mate is Starbuck, a serious, sincere Quaker and fine leader; second mate is Stubb, happy-go-lucky and cheerful and always smoking his pipe; the third mate is Flask, short and stout but thoroughly reliable. Each mate is responsible for a whaling boat, and each whaling boat of the Pequod has its own pagan harpooneer assigned to it. Some time after sailing, Ahab finally appears on the quarter-deck one morning, an imposing, frightening figure whose haunted visage sends shivers over the narrator. (A white scar, reportedly from a thunderbolt, runs down his face and it is hinted that it continues the length of his body.) One of his legs is missing from the knee down and has been replaced by a prosthesis fashioned from a sperm whale's jawbone.
  
  Soon gathering the crewmen together, with a rousing speech Ahab secures their support for his single, secret purpose for this voyage: hunting down and killing Moby Dick, an old, very large sperm whale, with a snow-white hump and mottled skin, that crippled Ahab on his last whaling voyage. Only Starbuck shows any sign of resistance to the charismatic but monomaniacal captain. The first mate argues repeatedly that the ship’s purpose should be to hunt whales for their oil, with luck returning home profitably, safely, and quickly, but not to seek out and kill Moby Dick in particular – and especially not for revenge. Eventually even Starbuck acquiesces to Ahab's will, though harboring misgivings.
  
  The mystery of the dark figures seen before the Pequod set sail is explained during the voyage's first lowering for whales. Ahab has secretly brought along his own boat crew, including a mysterious harpooneer named Fedallah, an inscrutable figure with a sinister influence over Ahab. Later, while watching one night over a captured whale carcass, Fedallah darkly prophecies to Ahab hints regarding their twin deaths.
  
  The novel describes numerous "gams," social meetings of two ships on the open sea. Crews normally visit each other during a gam, captains on one vessel and chief mates on the other. Mail may be exchanged and the men talk of whale sightings or other news. For Ahab, however, there is but one relevant question to ask of another ship: “Hast seen the White Whale?” After meeting several other whaling ships, which have their own peculiar stories, the Pequod enters the Pacific Ocean. Queequeg becomes deathly ill and requests that a coffin be built for him by the ship’s carpenter. Just as everyone has given up hope, Queequeg changes his mind, deciding to live after all, and recovers quickly. His coffin becomes his sea chest, and is later caulked and pitched to replace the Pequod's life buoy.
  
  Soon word is heard from other whalers of Moby Dick. The jolly Captain Boomer of the Samuel Enderby has lost an arm to the whale, and is stunned at Ahab's burning need for revenge. Next they meet the Rachel, which has seen Moby Dick very recently. As a result of the encounter, one of its boats is missing; the captain’s youngest son had been aboard. The Rachel's captain begs Ahab to aid in the search for the missing boat, but Ahab is resolute. The Pequod’s captain is very near the White Whale now and will not stop to help. Finally the Delight is met, even as its captain buries a sailor who had been killed by Moby Dick. Starbuck begs Ahab one final time to reconsider his thirst for vengeance, but to no avail.
  
  The next day, the Pequod meets Moby Dick. For two days, the Pequod's crew pursues the whale, which wreaks widespread destruction, including the disappearance of the 'Parsee'. On the third day, Moby Dick rises up to reveal the Parsee tied to him by harpoon ropes, clearly dead. Even after the initial battle on the third day, as Moby Dick swims away from the Pequod, Starbuck exhorts Ahab one last time to desist, observing that "Moby-Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that madly seekest him!"
  
  Ahab ignores this voice of reason and continues with his ill-fated chase. As the three boats sail out to hunt him, Moby Dick damages two of them, forcing them to go back to the ship and leaving only Ahab's vessel intact. Ahab harpoons the whale, but the harpoon-line breaks. Moby Dick then rams the Pequod itself, which begins to sink. As Ahab harpoons the whale again, the unfolding harpoon-line catches him around his neck and he is dragged into the depths of the sea by the diving Moby Dick. The boat is caught up in the whirlpool of the sinking ship, which takes almost all the crew to their deaths. Only Ishmael survives, clinging to Queequeg’s coffin-turned-life buoy for an entire day and night before the Rachel rescues him.
  Characters
  
  The crew-members of the Pequod are carefully drawn stylizations of human types and habits; critics have often described the crew as a "self-enclosed universe".
  Ishmael
  
  The name has come to symbolize orphans, exiles, and social outcasts — in the opening paragraph of Moby-Dick, Ishmael tells the reader that he has turned to the sea out of a feeling of alienation from human society. In the last line of the book, Ishmael also refers to himself symbolically as an orphan. Maintaining the Biblical connection and emphasising the representation of outcasts, Ishmael is also the name of the son Abraham has with the slave girl Hagar before Isaac is born. In Genesis 21:10 Abraham's wife, Sarah, has Hagar and Ishmael exiled into the desert. Ishmael has a rich literary background (he has previously been a schoolteacher), which he brings to bear on his shipmates and events that occur while at sea.
  Elijah
  
  The character Elijah (named for the Biblical prophet, Elijah, who is also referred to in the King James Bible as Elias), on learning that Ishmael and Queequeg have signed onto Ahab's ship, asks, "Anything down there about your souls?" When Ishmael reacts with surprise, Elijah continues:
  
   "Oh, perhaps you hav'n't got any," he said quickly. "No matter though, I know many chaps that hav'n't got any — good luck to 'em; and they are all the better off for it. A soul's a sort of a fifth wheel to a wagon."
  
  Later in the conversation, Elijah adds:
  
   "Well, well, what's signed, is signed; and what's to be, will be; and then again, perhaps it wont be, after all. Any how, it's all fixed and arranged a'ready; and some sailors or other must go with him, I suppose; as well these as any other men, God pity 'em! Morning to ye, shipmates, morning; the ineffable heavens bless ye; I'm sorry I stopped ye."
  
  Ahab
  
  Ahab is the tyrannical captain of the Pequod who is driven by a monomaniacal desire to kill Moby Dick, the whale that maimed him on the previous whaling voyage. Despite the fact that he's a Quaker, he seeks revenge in defiance of his religion's well-known pacifism. Ahab's name comes directly from the Bible (see 1 Kings 16:28).
  
  Little information is provided about Ahab's life prior to meeting Moby Dick, although it is known that he was orphaned at a young age. When discussing the purpose of his quest with Starbuck, it is revealed that he first began whaling at eighteen and has continued in the trade for forty years, having spent less than three on land. He also mentions his "girl-wife," whom he married late in life, and their young son, but does not give their names.
  
  In Ishmael's first encounter with Ahab's name, he responds "When that wicked king was slain, the dogs, did they not lick his blood?" (Moby-Dick, Chapter 16).
  
  Ahab ultimately dooms the crew of the Pequod (save for Ishmael) to death by his obsession with Moby Dick. During the final chase, Ahab hurls his final harpoon while yelling his now-famous revenge line:
  
   ... to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.
  
  The harpoon becomes lodged in Moby Dick's flesh and Ahab, caught around the neck by a loop in his own harpoon's rope and unable to free himself, is dragged into the cold oblivion of the sea with the injured whale. The mechanics of Ahab's death are richly symbolic. He is literally killed by his own harpoon, and symbolically killed by his own obsession with revenge. The whale eventually destroys the whaleboats and crew, and sinks the Pequod.
  
  Ahab has the qualities of a tragic hero — a great heart and a fatal flaw — and his deeply philosophical ruminations are expressed in language that is not only deliberately lofty and Shakespearian, but also so heavily iambic as often to read like Shakespeare's own pentameters.
  
  Ahab's motivation for hunting Moby Dick is perhaps best summed up in the following passage:
  
   The White Whale swam before him as the monomaniac incarnation of all those malicious agencies which some deep men feel eating in them, till they are left living on with half a heart and half a lung. That intangible malignity which has been from the beginning; to whose dominion even the modern Christians ascribe one-half of the worlds; which the ancient Ophites of the east reverenced in their statue devil; -- Ahab did not fall down and worship it like them; but deliriously transferring its idea to the abhorred white whale, he pitted himself, all mutilated, against it. All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby-Dick. He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it.
  
  Moby Dick
  
  He is a giant, albino Sperm whale and the main antagonist of the novel. He had bitten off Ahab's leg, and Ahab swore revenge. The cetacean also attacked the Rachel and killed the captain's son. He appears at the end of the novel and kills the entire crew with the exception of Ishmael. Unlike the other characters, the reader does not have access to Moby Dick's thoughts and motivations, but the whale is still an integral part of the novel. Moby Dick is sometimes considered to be a symbol of a number of things, among them God, nature, fate, the ocean, and the very universe itself.
  Mates
  
  The three mates of the Pequod are all from New England.
  Starbuck
  
  Starbuck, the young first mate of the Pequod, is a thoughtful and intellectual Quaker from Nantucket.
  
   Uncommonly conscientious for a seaman, and endued with a deep natural reverence, the wild watery loneliness of his life did therefore strongly incline him to superstition; but to that sort of superstition, which in some organization seems rather to spring, somehow, from intelligence than from ignorance... [H]is far-away domestic memories of his young Cape wife and child, tend[ed] to bend him ... from the original ruggedness of his nature, and open him still further to those latent influences which, in some honest-hearted men, restrain the gush of dare-devil daring, so often evinced by others in the more perilous vicissitudes of the fishery. "I will have no man in my boat," said Starbuck, "who is not afraid of a whale." By this, he seemed to mean, not only that the most reliable and useful courage was that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril, but that an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward.
   — Moby-Dick, Ch. 26
  
  Little is said about Starbuck's early life, except that he is married with a son. Unlike Ahab's wife, who remains nameless, Starbuck gives his wife's name as Mary. Such is his desire to return to them, that when nearly reaching the last leg of their quest for Moby Dick, he considers arresting or even killing Ahab with a loaded musket, one of several which is kept by Ahab (in a previous chapter Ahab threatens Starbuck with one when Starbuck disobeys him, despite Starbuck's being in the right) and turning the ship back, straight for home.
  
  Starbuck is alone among the crew in objecting to Ahab's quest, declaring it madness to want revenge on an animal, which lacks reason. Starbuck advocates continuing the more mundane pursuit of whales for their oil. But he lacks the support of the crew in his opposition to Ahab, and is unable to persuade them to turn back. Despite his misgivings, he feels himself bound by his obligations to obey the captain.
  
  Starbuck was an important Quaker family name on Nantucket Island, and there were several actual whalemen of this period named "Starbuck," as evidenced by the name of Starbuck Island in the South Pacific whaling grounds. The multinational coffee chain Starbucks was named after Starbuck, not for any affinity for coffee but after the name Pequod was rejected by one of the co-founders.
  Stubb
  
  Stubb, the second mate of the Pequod, is from Cape Cod, and always seems to have a pipe in his mouth and a smile on his face. "Good-humored, easy, and careless, he presided over his whaleboat as if the most deadly encounter were but a dinner, and his crew all invited guests." (Moby-Dick, Ch. 27) Although he is not an educated man, Stubb is remarkably articulate, and during whale hunts keeps up an imaginative patter reminiscent of that of some characters in Shakespeare. Scholarly portrayals range from that of an optimistic simpleton to a paragon of lived philosophic wisdom.
  Flask
  
  Flask is the third mate of the Pequod. He is from Martha's Vineyard.
  
   King Post is his nickname because he is a short, stout, ruddy young fellow, very pugnacious concerning whales, who somehow seemed to think that the great Leviathans had personally and hereditarily affronted him; and therefore it was a sort of point of honor with him, to destroy them whenever encountered.
   — Moby-Dick, Ch. 27
  
  Harpooneers
  
  The harpooneers of the Pequod are all non-Christians from various parts of the world. Each serves on a mate's boat.
  Queequeg
  Main article: Queequeg
  
  Queequeg hails from the fictional island of Kokovoko in the South Seas, inhabited by a cannibal tribe, and is the son of the chief of his tribe. Since leaving the island, he has become extremely skilled with the harpoon. He befriends Ishmael very early in the novel, when they meet in New Bedford, Massachusetts before leaving for Nantucket. He is described as existing in a state between civilized and savage. For example, Ishmael recounts with amusement how Queequeg feels it necessary to hide himself when pulling on his boots, noting that if he were a savage he wouldn't consider boots necessary, but if he were completely civilized he would realize there was no need to be modest when pulling on his boots.
  
  Queequeg is the harpooneer on Starbuck's boat, where Ishmael is also an oarsman. Queequeg is best friends with Ishmael in the story. He is prominent early in the novel, but later fades in significance, as does Ishmael.
  Tashtego
  
  Tashtego is described as a Native American harpooneer. The personification of the hunter, he turns from hunting land animals to hunting whales. Tashtego is the harpooneer on Stubb's boat.
  
   Next was Tashtego, an unmixed Indian from Gay Head, the most westerly promontory of Martha’s Vineyard, where there still exists the last remnant of a village of red men, which has long supplied the neighboring island of Nantucket with many of her most daring harpooneers. In the fishery, they usually go by the generic name of Gay-Headers.
   — Moby-Dick, Ch.27
  
  Daggoo
  
  Daggoo is a gigantic (6'5") African harpooneer from a coastal village with a noble bearing and grace. He is the harpooneer on Flask's boat.
  Fedallah
  
  Fedallah is the harpooneer on Ahab's boat. He is of Persian Zoroastrian ("Parsi") descent. Because of descriptions of him having lived in China, he might have been among the great wave of Parsi traders who made their way to Hong Kong and the Far East from India during the mid-19th century. At the time when the Pequod sets sail, Fedallah is hidden on board, and he emerges with Ahab's boat's crew later on, to the surprise of the crew. Fedallah is referred to in the text as Ahab's "Dark Shadow." Ishmael calls him a "fire worshipper" and the crew speculates that he is a devil in man's disguise. He is the source of a variety of prophecies regarding Ahab and his hunt for Moby Dick. Ishmael describes him thus, standing by Ahab's boat:
  
   The figure that now stood by its bows was tall and swart, with one white tooth evilly protruding from its steel-like lips. A rumpled Chinese jacket of black cotton funereally invested him, with wide black trowsers of the same dark stuff. But strangely crowning this ebonness was a glistening white plaited turban, the living hair braided and coiled round and round upon his head.
   — Moby-Dick, Ch.48
  
  Other notable characters
  
  Pip (nicknamed "Pippin," but "Pip" for short) is a black boy from Tolland County, Connecticut who is "the most insignificant of the Pequod's crew". Because he is physically slight, he is made a ship-keeper, (a sailor who stays in the Pequod while its whaleboats go out). Ishmael contrasts him with the "dull and torpid in his intellects" — and paler and much older — steward Dough-Boy, describing Pip as "over tender-hearted" but "at bottom very bright, with that pleasant, genial, jolly brightness peculiar to his tribe". Ishmael goes so far as to chastise the reader: "Nor smile so, while I write that this little black was brilliant, for even blackness has its brilliancy; behold yon lustrous ebony, panelled in king's cabinets."
  
  The after-oarsman on Stubb's boat is injured, however, so Pip is temporarily reassigned to Stubb's whaleboat crew. The first time out, Pip jumps from the boat, causing Stubb and Tashtego to lose their already-harpooned whale. Tashtego and the rest of the crew are furious; Stubb chides him "officially" and "unofficially", even raising the specter of slavery: "a whale would sell for thirty times what you would, Pip, in Alabama". The next time a whale is sighted, Pip again jumps overboard and is left stranded in the "awful lonesomeness" of the sea while Stubb's and the others' boats are dragged along by their harpooned whales. By the time he is rescued, he has become (at least to the other sailors) "an idiot", "mad". Ishmael, however, thought Pip had a mystical experience: "So man's insanity is heaven's sense." Pip and his experience are crucial because they serve as foreshadowing, in Ishmael's words "providing the sometimes madly merry and predestinated craft with a living and ever accompanying prophecy of whatever shattered sequel might prove her own." Pip's madness is full of poetry and eloquence; he is reminiscent of Tom in King Lear. Ahab later sympathizes with Pip and takes the young boy under his wing.
  
  Dough-boy is the pale, nervous steward of the ship. The Cook (Fleece), Blacksmith (Perth) and Carpenter of the ship are each highlighted in at least one chapter near the end of the book. Fleece, a very old African-American with bad knees, is presented in the chapter "Stubb Kills a Whale" at some length in a dialogue where Stubb good-humoredly takes him to task over how to prepare a variety of dishes from the whale's carcass. Ahab calls on the Carpenter to fashion a new whalebone leg after the one he wears is damaged; later he has Perth forge a special harpoon that he carries into the final confrontation with Moby-Dick.
  
  The crew as a whole is exceedingly international, having constituents from both the United States and the world. Chapter 40, "Midnight, Forecastle," highlights, in its stage-play manner (in Shakespearean style), the striking variety in the sailors' origins. A partial list of the speakers includes sailors from the Isle of Man, France, Iceland, the Netherlands, the Azores, Sicily and Malta, China, Denmark, Portugal, India, England, Spain and Ireland.
  Critical reception
  Melville's expectations
  
  In a letter to Nathaniel Hawthorne written within days of Moby-Dick's American publication, Melville made a number of revealing comments:
  
   ... for not one man in five cycles, who is wise, will expect appreciative recognition from his fellows, or any one of them. Appreciation! Recognition! Is Jove appreciated? Why, ever since Adam, who has got to the meaning of his great allegory—the world? Then we pigmies must be content to have our paper allegories but ill comprehended. I say your appreciation is my glorious gratuity.
  
   A sense of unspeakable security is in me this moment, on account of your understanding the book. I have written a wicked book, and feel spotless as the lamb. Ineffable sociabilities are in me. I would sit down and dine with you and all the gods in old Rome's Pantheon. It is a strange feeling—no hopefulness is in it, no despair. Content—that is it; and irresponsibility; but without licentious inclination. I speak now of my profoundest sense of being, not of an incidental feeling.
  
   You did not care a penny for the book. But, now and then as you read, you understood the pervading thought that impelled the book—and that you praised. Was it not so? You were archangel enough to despise the imperfect body, and embrace the soul.
  
  Contemporary
  
  Moby-Dick received decidedly mixed reviews from critics at the time it was published. Since the book first appeared in England, the American literary establishment took note of what the English critics said, especially when these critics were attached to the more prestigious journals. Although many critics praised it for its unique style, interesting characters and poetic language, others agreed with a critic for the highly regarded London Athenaeum, who described it as: "[A]n ill-compounded mixture of romance and matter-of-fact. The idea of a connected and collected story has obviously visited and abandoned its writer again and again in the course of composition. The style of his tale is in places disfigured by mad (rather than bad) English; and its catastrophe is hastily, weakly, and obscurely managed."
  
  One problem was that publisher Peter Bentley botched the English edition, most significantly in omitting the (somewhat perfunctory[citation needed]) epilogue. For this reason, many of the critics faulted the book on what little they could grasp of it, namely on purely formal grounds, e.g., how the tale could have been told if no one survived to tell it. The generally bad reviews from across the ocean made American readers skittish about picking up the tome. Still, a handful of American critics saw much more in it than most of their U.S. and English colleagues. Hawthorne said of the book: "What a book Melville has written! It gives me an idea of much greater power than his preceding ones". Perhaps the most perceptive review came from the pen of Evert Augustus Duyckinck, a friend of Melville who was able to introduce Melville to Hawthorne.
  Underground
  
  Within a year after Melville's death, Moby-Dick, along with Typee, Omoo and Mardi, was reprinted by Harper & Brothers, giving it a chance to be rediscovered. However, only New York's literary underground seemed to take much interest, just enough to keep Melville's name circulating for the next 25 years in the capital of American publishing. During this time, a few critics were willing to devote time, space, and a modicum of praise to Melville and his works, or at least those that could still be fairly easily obtained or remembered. Other works, especially the poetry, went largely forgotten.
  
  Then came World War I and its consequences, particularly the shaking or destruction of faith in so many aspects of Western civilization, all of which caused people concerned with culture and its potential redemptive value to experiment with new aesthetic techniques. The stage was set for Melville to find his place.
  The Melville Revival
  
  With the burgeoning of Modernist aesthetics (see Modernism and American modernism) and the war that tore everything apart still so fresh in memory, Moby-Dick began to seem increasingly relevant. Many of Melville's techniques echo those of Modernism: kaleidoscopic, hybrid in genre and tone, monumentally ambitious in trying to unite so many disparate elements and loose ends. His new readers also found in him an almost too-profound exploration of violence, hunger for power, and quixotic goals. Although many critics of this time still considered Moby-Dick extremely difficult to come to grips with, they largely saw this lack of easy understanding as an asset rather than a liability.[citation needed]
  
  In 1917, American author Carl Van Doren became the first of this period to proselytize about Melville's value.[citation needed]
  
  In the 1920s, British literary critics began to take notice. In his idiosyncratic but landmark Studies in Classic American Literature, novelist, poet, and short story writer D. H. Lawrence directed Americans' attention to the great originality and value of many American authors, among them Melville. Perhaps most surprising is that Lawrence saw Moby-Dick as a work of the first order despite his using the original English edition.
  
  In his 1921 study, The American Novel, Carl Van Doren returns to Melville with much more depth. Here he calls Moby-Dick a pinnacle of American Romanticism.
  Post-revival
  
  The next great wave of Moby-Dick appraisal came with the publication of F. O. Matthiessen's American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman. Published in 1941, the book proposed that Emerson, Whitman, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Melville were the most prominent figures of a flowering of conflicted (and mostly pre-Civil War) literature important for its promulgation of democracy and the exploration of its possibilities, successes, and failures. Since Matthiessen's book came out shortly before the entry of the U.S. into World War II, the end of which found the U.S. in possession of the atomic bomb and thus a superpower, critic Nick Selby argues that
  
   … Moby-Dick was now read as a text that reflected the power struggles of a world concerned to uphold democracy, and of a country seeking an identity for itself within that world.
  
  On October 9, 2008, the Massachusetts House of Representatives passed a bill naming Moby-Dick Massachusetts' official “epic novel.”
1 hǎi jīng de yòu huò
  hěn duō nián qián shí de qián bāo biě biě de shàng kàn lái méi shénme hǎo hùn liǎogān cuì xià hǎi zài men zhè shì jiè shàng zhàn jué duì miàn de hǎi guàng guàng
   zhè shì wéi de chù liǎo
   měi dāng xīn fán zàogān huǒ zhí shēng nǎo mén shíměi dāng xīn yōu luànyǎn qián piàn 11 yuè de chóu yún cǎn shíměi dāng shēn yóu gēn zhe xiāng gān de sòng zàng duì zǒu xiàng shíměi dāng rěn rěn shàng jiù yào zài jiē shàng xiàng tuō jiāng de yàng héng chōng zhí zhuàng shí gǎn jǐn chū hǎi
   zhǐ yòu chū hǎi zhǐ duì qiāng
   méi yòu biān yín sòng shī biān jiàn wěn de yǒng zhǐ néng qiāoqiāo zǒu shàng chuán
   zěn me yàngpéng yǒu yòu lèi de gǎn qíng jīng shǐ zhōng xiāng xìn lùn shì shuízài mǒu dìng de shí tādōu huì duì hǎi yáng chǎn shēng lèi shìde qíng de
   ō de xìng míng shí zhè guān jǐn yàohǎo liǎo jiù jiào shí
   men xiàn zài kàn dào de jiù shì màn dùn dǎo de zhōu mǎn liǎo shāng wèi 'ér shí de tóuchéng de měi tiáo jiē dào jīhū dōunéng yǐn dǎo zǒu xiàng tóuzǒu xiàng hǎi biān
   pào tái qián de fáng làng yíng zhe hǎi làngguān hǎi de rén men yuǎn yuǎn sàn zhe
   men fáng zhǎo 'ān de xià zài zhǒng shī mèng de yáng guāng xià chéng zhuǎn shàng juàn shǒu xiān kàn dào de hái shì hǎi biān shàng qún qún duì zhe hǎi zhù níng wàng de rén
   men huò zhàn huò zuòhuò zhù huò kào qiángyáo wàng zhe zhōng guó 'ér lái de chuán zhǐ de chuán xián xīn shǎng zhe kāi jìn kāi chū de xiǎo chuán
   zhè xiē píng cháng shēng huó zài guì táidèng xiě tái qiáng zhī jiān de rén men zěn me páo dào hǎi biān lái liǎonán dào tián chóu yuán píng chuān de xiāo shī liǎo
   kànyòu lái liǎo qún rén men zhíbèn hǎi biānyào tiào hǎi
   ōzhēn yòu men yào jìn néng kào jìn hǎi men yào zǒu dào de biān yuánzhè xiē lái nèi de rén menzhàn mǎn liǎo hǎi biānmián yán shí hǎi
   shèn zhì huái shì shì chuán shàng de zhǐ nán zhēn de men lái de 'ā
   kěn dìng yòu shénme lèi de shén liàngjiù shì zài shàng men shì yòu zhè yàng de jīng yàn yán zhe suí biàn tiáo zǒu xià zǎo wǎn huì zǒu dào biān pàn liú zhī
   shí yàn xiàsuí biàn zhǎo wán quán xīn zài yān de rénràng xìn yóu jiāng zǒu dòng lái zhǔn huì zǒu dào yòu shuǐ de fāng
   guǒ zhè rén zài suǒ zhe shénme xíng 'ér shàng xué de dōng jiēguǒ jiù gèng shì liǎo guǒ zài shā zhōng shī liǎo fāng xiàngshēn biān yòu qià qiǎo yòu wèi zhé xué jiào shòu jiù jīng huāng liǎoyīn wéi suǒ shì shuǐ yòu zhe tiān rán de lián de
   wèi chū de fēng jǐng huà jiā wéi yáng rén huà liǎo huà 'éryòu bái yún yòu yuán yòu sēn lín yòu yáng qúnyòu niǎo niǎo de chuī yān zài shān luán jiān de xiǎo shì guǒ zhè wèi yáng rén zhù shì zhe yǎn qián de tiáo me zhè huà 'ér jiù huì shī rèn huó de
   guǒ liù yuè de cǎo yuán méi yòu shuǐ guǒ jiā liú xià lái de zhǐ shì xiē méi yòu shēng mìng de huáng shā me hái huì hún qiān mèng rào de cǎo yuán
   méi yòu liǎo shuǐjiù méi yòu liǎo qiē
   yòu wèi xíng de qióng shī rénzài wài dào liǎo diǎn qián hòuyóu liǎoshì mǎi jiàn chèn hái shì hǎi biān yuǎn tàng
   měi wèi shēn qiáng zhuàng de xiǎo huǒ jīhū xiǎng chū hǎi chuǎng chuǎngér měi wèi shàng liǎo chuán de rénzài zhī dào wàng jiàn liǎo de shí hòuxīn huì dēng xià
   dài rén hǎi wéi shén rén gèng hǎi kàn zuò shén de qīn xiōng ér wèi zài shuǐ biān yǐng lián de měi nán zhōng tóu shēn shuǐ
   měi réndōu huì zài shuǐ zhōng liú xià yǒng yuǎn zhuā xún dào de yǐng shì zhe men rén lèi de shénme 'ào miào
   shēn shàng zhè zhǒng shuǐ de tiān rán lián měi měi zài zǒu tóu chóu cháng bǎi jié shí huì jiě jiù yǐn dào hǎi shàng
   dào hǎi shàng shì zuò deyīn wéi yào de qián bāo shì zuò yòu yùn chuán yòu shī mián de de
   dāng rán gèng dāng chuán shèn zhì chú shī liǎojìn guǎn lùn suàn shàng lǎo shuǐ shǒu liǎo
   zhè xiē fēng guāng de zhí wèihái shì ràng xiē huān fēng guāng de rén gān néng kàn hǎo jīng cuò liǎoguǎn liǎo shénme wéi 'ā fān 'ā dedāng rán gèng guǎn liǎo xiē cāo zòng zhè jiā shí de rén liǎo
   dāng chú shī dǎo chún cuì shì yīn wéi méi yòu xīng zhè bìng fáng 'ài duì chú shī de zuò pǐn gǎn xīng miàn duì zhǐ kǎo hǎo de niú yóu jūn yún jiāo zhōu dào de huì jiào hǎo de
   'āi rén duì kǎo zhū shāo zhī lèi de dōng jiù hěn yòu hǎo gǎn men de jīn xiàn zài hái jiàn dào zhè xiē dōng de nǎi
   zài chuán shàng zhǐ shì tōng tōng de shuǐ shǒu
   xiàng zhǐ zhà yàng huì 'ér bèng dào wéi gān dǐng shàng huì 'ér yòu tiào jìn shuǐ shǒu cāng men lái huàn shǐ huàn hěn shāng liǎo xiē de zūn xīn kāi shǐ hěn ràng rén tòng kuài
   guǒ chū shēn míng mén wàng xiàng shénme fàn · lún jiā lún dào jiā niǔ guǒ shēn bǎi yóu tǒng de shǒu jiǔ qián hái céng zài jiào shì wēi yán huī jiù gèng jué tòng kuài liǎo
   zhè yàng de fǎn chā shí zài ràng rén yòu diǎn nán jiē shòu yòu diǎn xíng xué pài de wán qiáng cái néng tǐng guò lái dàn tǐng guò lái liǎosuǒ yòu de shū tòng kuài jiù yān xiāo yún sàn liǎo
   xiǎng xiǎng kuài tóu de chuán cháng yāo sǎo bǎn sǎo jiù shì liǎosuàn liǎo shénme xiū zàishèng jīngmiàn qiánzhè suàn shénme
   rén men zǒng shì zài xiāng yōng shuí tuō liǎo bèi bié rén de mìng yùn héng héng cóng xíng 'ér xià xíng 'ér shàng liǎng jiǎo kàn jūn shì
   suǒ rén men zài xiāng tuī zhī hòuhái shì yào xiāng xià chuāngkǒuānfèn xià lái de
   kuàng qiě zài chuán shàng shì shì shuǐ shǒu shì yào zhèng men de qián de 'ā méi tīng shuō guò gěi qián de shì wǎng wài tāo qián
   wǎng wài tāo qián wǎng zhèng qián shì wán quán tóng de liǎng huí shì xiǎngtāo qián shì liǎng tōu guǒ chī de zéi gěi men dài lái de zuì de xìngér zhèng qián shì zhè shì shàng yòu shù de jiàn hǎo shì zhī liǎo
   xiǎng xiǎng men jiē shòu bié rén gěi de qián shí wēn wén 'ěr bīn bīn yòu de yōu tài duì jiā gōng rèn de zhè zhǒng wàn 'è zhī yuán de dōng men jiē shòu lái shì me shènggān xīn qíng yuàn ràng lún luò zài wàn jié de
   hǎi shàng de láo dòng hǎi shàng de kōng men de shēn xīn shì jué duì yòu dehǎi shàng xíng chuándǐng fēng yǒng yuǎn shùn fēng duōsuǒ chuán tóu shàng de shuǐ shǒu yǒng yuǎn chuán wěi de chuán cháng men xiān dào xīn xiān kōng
   duì zhè diǎn men diǎn zhī dàohái wèishì xiān dào de zài hěn duō shì qíng shàngdōushì lǎo bǎi xìng jīng cháng lǐng dǎo men de lǐng xiùér xiē lǐng xiù men què hún rán zhī
   qián wǒdōu shì zài shāng chuán shàngdàng shuǐ shǒu dezhè huí què guǐ shǐ shénchāi shàng liǎo jīng chuánmìng yùn zhī shén zài míng míng zhōng zuǒ yòu zhe zhè shì lǎo rén jiā zài hěn zǎo hěn zǎo qián jiù 'ān pái hǎo liǎo de shì xiàn zài zhèng shàng yǎn de liǎng chū zhī jiān de chū xiǎo jié dān yuē zhè yàng xiě
   měi guó zǒng tǒng jìng xuǎn
   shí chū hǎi jīng
   ā hàn tǎn zhàn
   mìng yùn zhī shén zhēn dòuràng bié rén bàn yǎn xiē yōng róng huá guì zhǐ shǐqīng sōng kuàibēi zhuàng yīng yǒng de juésèquè ràng yǎn zhè me jīng de xiǎo rén
   méi bàn huí xiǎng shàng chuán qián zhǒng zhǒng 'ǒu rán rán de shì xiǎo qíng dāng shí hái wéi zuò chū shàng zhè tiáo chuán de jué dìng shì jīng guò zhěn kǎo de
   yǐn shàng chuán de zuì yuán yīn shì tiáo zhù míng de jīng shān de shēn zài tāo zhōng huá xíng de shén xíng xiàng liǎo qiáng liè de hàoqí xīnguān de zhǒng zhǒng jīng xiǎn guài de chuán shuō shēn shēn yǐn liǎo ràng zhè xiàng duì zhī de dōng chōng mǎn liǎo tiān rán de xīng de rén xīn yǎng nán 'áo
   mào xiǎn tàn shì mái zài xīn de zhǒng yòu rǎng shuǐfèn men jiù huì xùn shēngzhǎngràng qiē xiàng wèi zhī zhī bēn chí 'ér
   tóu shēn hǎiyíng miàn shàng chéng shuāng chéng duì de xiǎo jīng wán shuǎxiān dòng líng hún shēn chù shén de yǐng ràng huó láidòng láichéng wéi zuò tiān gài de zhēng níng de shòu
   duì zhè xiē háng xíng zhēn shì qiú zhī 'ā


  Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never mind how long precisely-- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
   There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs--commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
   Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?--Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks glasses! of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster-- tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?
   But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand--miles of them--leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues,-- north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?
   Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries--stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.
   But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies--what is the one charm wanting?-- Water there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.
   Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick-- grow quarrelsome--don't sleep of nights--do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;--no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,--though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board--yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;--though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bakehouses the pyramids.
   No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the fore-castle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.
   What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about--however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way-- either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.
   Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,-- what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!
   Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way-- he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:
   "Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States. "WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL." "BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN."
   Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces-- though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment.
   Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements; but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with it--would they let me--since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all the inmates of the place one lodges in.
   By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.
2. xīn bèi zhī
   jiàn chōng zuò xíng náng biàn dòng liǎo shēn
   yuǎn màn dùnbēn dào xīn bèi méi gǎn shàng kāi wǎng nán kāi de yóu chuánzhǐ děng xià xīng liǎo
   zhè shì xīng liù, 12 yuè de xīng liùkàn lái zhù dìng yào liáo guò zhōu liǎo
   bān 'ēn jiǎo zhè yàng zǒucóng xīn bèi shàng chuán dìng yào cóng jīng chuán zuì zǎo de chū nán kāi chū jìn guǎn xīn bèi jīng hěn fán huádàn jìng shì rén men zhǐ běi měi zhōu de jīng tuō shàng 'àn de fāng xiē hóng zhǒng rén shì zhedāng nián jiù shì cóng nán kāi chéng zhōu hǎi shàng jīng dehái yòu zuì zǎo de jīng dān wéi fān chuánchuán shàng zài zhe 'é luǎn shí héng héng zhè jiù shì men jīng de héng héng shì cóng nán kāi chū de
   jīn yào zài xīn bèi dāi shàng liǎng tiānquè qiē shuō shì tiān liǎng cái néng nán kāi chī fàn shuì jué wèn zěn me jiě jué
   zài zhè hán fēng de wǎn zhù zài lěng lěng qīng qīng de jiē tóu qīnzǒu tóu de gǎn jué shàng xīn tóu
   dōu de xiǎo qián xīn niàn zhe shí 'ā lùn mìng yùn yǐn xiàng dōuyào xiān wèn wèn jià qián 'ā
   jiē dào shàng jié zhe hòu hòu de bīnglěng yìng jiān huáyìng zhe yòu diàn miàn shè chū lái de dēng guāngōzhè shìbiāo qiāng diàn”, zhè shìjiàn diàn”, bēi zhǎn zhī shēng bàn zhe huān shēng xiào xiàng chuāng wài háo yóu xiàng qián zǒu zhe men tài kuài huó liǎo tài néng huā qián liǎo
   shí 'ā hái xiàng qián zǒu de shuāng xié mài jìn gāo mén jiànxiàng xiē me huī huáng càn làn de fāng zǒu zǒu fāng de diàn suī rán shì zuì hǎodàn kěn dìng shì zuì piányí
   jiē dào liǎng 'àn liǎo xià láiǒu huò yòu me liǎng diǎn zhú guāngguǐ huǒ bān zài hēi 'àn zhōng shǎn shuòyuǎn yuǎn kàn jiàn zuò 'ǎi fáng fáng mén chǎng wēi guāng xiè liǎo chū láihǎo xiàng zài hěn suí huān yíng zhe rén de dào lái
   jīhū shì zhí zhuàng zǒu liǎo jìn duī háo bàn liǎo gēn dǒufēn fēi de huī chén chàdiǎn biē
   hǎo 'āzhè shìbiāo qiāng diàn”、 shìjiàn diàn”, què shì xiàn jǐng diàn”。
   zhèn 'ěr de xuān huá yǐn lái hòu xùn tuī kāi liǎo 'èr dào ménā pái hēi liǎn shuà shuà zhuànxiàng liǎo lìng wèi hēi miàn kǒng de péng yǒu zhèng zài jiǎng tái shàng pāi dǎzháo běn shūràng de tīng zhòng men zhōng jīng zhè shì hēi rén jiào táng tuì liǎo chū lái xiàng qián
   zài tóu hěn jìn de fāng kuài bái huàng huàng de zhāo pái zài méng méng de shí yǐn shí xiàn jǐn zǒu zài tiān kōng zhōng shēng shénme guài niǎo 'ér de guài jiào zhōng kàn qīng liǎo pái shàng de :“ jīng diàn héng héng · fēn。” fēn!( guān cái de yīn jīng
   jiāng zhè 'èr zhě xiāng liánguān cái jīng gǎn dào hòu liáng zhèn bīng liáng
   guò shuō nán kāi xìng zhè xìng de rén shǎo me zhè shì cóng nán kāi lái de loudāng rángèng zhù yào de shìcóng bài de wài guān kànzhè jiā diàn dìng shí fēn piányíshuō dìng hái yòu wèi dào cuò de fēi mài zǒu liǎo jìn
   zhè shì zuò xiàng liǎo bàn shēn bùsuí bìng de fáng běi fēng xiào zhī zhōng yáo yáo zhuì de yàng
   guò guǒ zài miàn 'ér shì zài wài miànliǎng jiǎo zài shàngyōu xián zhe fēi me zhè xiào de fēng shēng jiù chún cuì shì zhī cuī mián liǎo
   dài wèi zhù míng de zuò jiā céng jīng shuō guò:“ yào pàn dìng zhè kuáng fēng lěng de hǎo huài yào kàn xià pàn duàn de rén de wèi zhìshì zhe mǎn shì bīng huā 'ér de xiàng wài kànhái shì zhe shénme dōng wài yàng lěng xiàng wài kànwéi de 'ān zhuāng gōng jiù shì shén!”
   zhè duàn huà qīng xiàn zài yǎn qián jué jiù shì zhè zuò fáng liǎng zhǐ yǎn jīng biàn shì liǎng shàn chuāng
   àn zhào wèi dài zuò jiā de huà jìn xíng gǎi liáng jīng lái liǎo zhòu de jié gòu jīng wán gōng liǎo qiēdōu gǎi biàn liǎozěn me bàn lián de zhǐ hǎo zài lěng fēng zhōng suō chàn dǒu liǎochàn dǒu shēn shàng jǐn yòu de tiáo piàn diào zài liǎo shàngér jiù zài shí wèi shēn zhe páo de lǎo cái zhù zhì mǎn jiào dào:“ bīng tiān xuě kuáng fēng hǒu de jǐng zhì duō me rén 'āxīng kōng càn lànběi guāng bān lánràng xiē tán lùn nián dào tóu chūn de shénme guǐ hòu de jiā huǒ men jiàn guǐ yào yòng tàn huǒ chuàng zào xià tiān!”
   què duì zhe yàng bān lán de běi guāng dòng qīng liǎo de shuāng shǒu zài yáo xiǎng zhe chì dào shàng de měi
   duō me xiǎng chì dào bìng pái tǎng zài 'ā méi xiǎng me yuǎnzhǐ xiǎng jiù jìn zhǎo huǒ duī zuàn jìn
   lǎo cái zhù zài yóu bīng kuài wéi rào de wēn nuǎn chūn de gōng diàn zhōng duì wài de de kuài yào dòng bìng rèn gǎn jué yōu xián duó zhe bìng méi jiǔyīn wéi shì jìn jiǔ xié huì de huì cháng jiǔzhǐ 'ér men de yǎn lèi
   suàn liǎozhè me duō gǎn kǎi yòu shénme yòng fǎn zhèng yào jīng liǎozhè yàng de shì 'ér hái duō zhe xiān jìn kàn kàn


  I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpet-bag, tucked it under my arm, and started for Cape Horn and the Pacific. Quitting the good city of old Manhatto, I duly arrived in New Bedford. It was on a Saturday night in December. Much was I disappointed upon learning that the little packet for Nantucket had already sailed, and that no way of reaching that place would offer, till the following Monday.
   As most young candidates for the pains and penalties of whaling stop at this same New Bedford, thence to embark on their voyage, it may as well be related that I, for one, had no idea of so doing. For my mind was made up to sail in no other than a Nantucket craft, because there was a fine, boisterous something about everything connected with that famous old island, which amazingly pleased me. Besides though New Bedford has of late been gradually monopolizing the business of whaling, and though in this matter poor old Nantucket is now much behind her, yet Nantucket was her great original-- the Tyre of this Carthage;--the place where the first dead American whale was stranded. Where else but from Nantucket did those aboriginal whalemen, the Red-Men, first sally out in canoes to give chase to the Leviathan? And where but from Nantucket, too, did that first adventurous little sloop put forth, partly laden with imported cobblestones--so goes the story-- to throw at the whales, in order to discover when they were nigh enough to risk a harpoon from the bowsprit?
   Now having a night, a day, and still another night following before me in New Bedford, ere I could embark for my destined port, it became a matter of concernment where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile. It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless. I knew no one in the place. With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver,--So, wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of a dreary street shouldering my bag, and comparing the gloom towards the north with the darkness towards the south--wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don't be too particular.
   With halting steps I paced the streets, and passed the sign of "The Crossed Harpoons"--but it looked too expensive and jolly there. Further on, from the bright red windows of the "Sword-Fish Inn," there came such fervent rays, that it seemed to have melted the packed snow and ice from before the house, for everywhere else the congealed frost lay ten inches thick in a hard, asphaltic pavement,--rather weary for me, when I struck my foot against the flinty projections, because from hard, remorseless service the soles of my boots were in a most miserable plight. Too expensive and jolly, again thought I, pausing one moment to watch the broad glare in the street, and hear the sounds of the tinkling glasses within. But go on, Ishmael, said I at last; don't you hear? get away from before the door; your patched boots are stopping the way. So on I went. I now by instinct followed the streets that took me waterward, for there, doubtless, were the cheapest, if not the cheeriest inns.
   Such dreary streets! Blocks of blackness, not houses, on either hand, and here and there a candle, like a candle moving about in a tomb. At this hour of the night, of the last day of the week, that quarter of the town proved all but deserted. But presently I came to a smoky light proceeding from a low, wide building, the door of which stood invitingly open. It had a careless look, as if it were meant for the uses of the public; so, entering, the first thing I did was to stumble over an ash-box in the porch. Ha! thought I, ha, as the flying particles almost choked me, are these ashes from that destroyed city, Gomorrah? But "The Crossed Harpoons," and the "The Sword-Fish?"--this, then must needs be the sign of "The Trap." However, I picked myself up and hearing a loud voice within, pushed on and opened a second, interior door.
   It seemed the great Black Parliament sitting in Tophet. A hundred black faces turned round in their rows to peer; and beyond, a black Angel of Doom was beating a book in a pulpit. It was a negro church; and the preacher's text was about the blackness of darkness, and the weeping and wailing and teeth-gnashing there. Ha, Ishmael, muttered I, backing out, Wretched entertainment at the sign of 'The Trap!'
   Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing a tall straight jet of misty spray, and these words underneath--"The Spouter Inn:--Peter Coffin."
   Coffin?--Spouter?--Rather ominous in that particular connexion, thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this Peter here is an emigrant from there. As the light looked so dim, and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated little wooden house itself looked as if it might have been carted here from the ruins of some burnt district, and as the swinging sign had a poverty-stricken sort of creak to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings, and the best of pea coffee.
   It was a queer sort of place--a gable-ended old house, one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly. It stood on a sharp bleak corner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed. In judging of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," says an old writer--of whose works I possess the only copy extant--"it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier." True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind--old black-letter, thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house. What a pity they didn't stop up the chinks and the crannies though, and thrust in a little lint here and there. But it's too late to make any improvements now. The universe is finished; the copestone is on, and the chips were carted off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus there, chattering his teeth against the curbstone for his pillow, and shaking off his tatters with his shiverings, he might plug up both ears with rags, and put a corn-cob into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuous Euroclydon. Euroclydon! says old Dives, in his red silken wrapper--(he had a redder one afterwards) pooh, pooh! What a fine frosty night; how Orion glitters; what northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals.
   But what thinks Lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along the line of the equator; yea, ye gods! go down to the fiery pit itself, in order to keep out this frost?
   Now, that Lazarus should lie stranded there on the curbstone before the door of Dives, this is more wonderful than that an iceberg should be moored to one of the Moluccas. Yet Dives himself, he too lives like a Czar in an ice palace made of frozen sighs, and being a president of a temperance society, he only drinks the tepid tears of orphans.
   But no more of this blubbering now, we are going a-whaling, and there is plenty of that yet to come. Let us scrape the ice from our frosted feet, and see what sort of a place this "Spouter" may be.
shǒuyè>> wénxué>> 历险小说>> 'ěr màn · méi 'ěr wéi 'ěr Herman Melville   měi guó United States   měi guó chóngjiàn gōng huà   (1819niánbāyuè1rì1891niánjiǔyuè28rì)