Allan Melville, great-grandfather of Herman Melville, removed from Scotland to America in 1748, and established himself as a merchant in Boston. His son, Major Thomas Melville, was a leader in the famous ‘Boston Tea Party’ of 1773 and afterwards became an officer in the Continental12 Army. He is reported to have been a Conservative in all matters except his opposition13 to unjust taxation14, and he wore the old-fashioned cocked hat and knee-breeches until his death, in 1832, thus becoming the original of Doctor Holmes’s poem, ‘The Last Leaf’. Major Melville’s son Allan, the father of Herman, was an importing merchant,—first in Boston, and later in New York. He was a man of much culture, and was an extensive traveller for his time. He married Maria Gansevoort, daughter of General Peter Gansevoort, best known as ‘the hero of Fort Stanwix.’ This fort was situated15 on the present site of Rome, N.Y.; and there Gansevoort, with a small body of men, held in check reinforcements on their way to join Burgoyne, until the disastrous16 ending of the latter’s campaign of 1777 was insured. The Gansevoorts, it should be said, were at that time and subsequently residents of Albany, N.Y.
Herman Melville was born in New York on August 1,1819, and received his early education in that city. There he imbibed17 his first love of adventure, listening, as he says in ‘Redburn,’ while his father ‘of winter evenings, by the well-remembered sea-coal fire in old Greenwich Street, used to tell my brother and me of the monstrous18 waves at sea, mountain high, of the masts bending like twigs19, and all about Havre and Liverpool.’ The death of his father in reduced circumstances necessitated20 the removal of his mother and the family of eight brothers and sisters to the village of Lansingburg, on the Hudson River. There Herman remained until 1835, when he attended the Albany Classical School for some months. Dr. Charles E. West, the well-known Brooklyn educator, was then in charge of the school, and remembers the lad’s deftness21 in English composition, and his struggles with mathematics.
The following year was passed at Pittsfield, Mass., where he engaged in work on his uncle’s farm, long known as the ‘Van Schaack place.’ This uncle was Thomas Melville, president of the Berkshire Agricultural Society, and a successful gentleman farmer.
Herman’s roving disposition22, and a desire to support himself independently of family assistance, soon led him to ship as cabin boy in a New York vessel23 bound for Liverpool. He made the voyage, visited London, and returned in the same ship. ‘Redburn: His First Voyage,’ published in 1849, is partly founded on the experiences of this trip, which was undertaken with the full consent of his relatives, and which seems to have satisfied his nautical24 ambition for a time. As told in the book, Melville met with more than the usual hardships of a sailor-boy’s first venture. It does not seem difficult in ‘Redburn’ to separate the author’s actual experiences from those invented by him, this being the case in some of his other writings.
A good part of the succeeding three years, from 1837 to 1840, was occupied with school-teaching. While so engaged at Greenbush, now East Albany, N.Y., he received the munificent25 salary of ‘six dollars a quarter and board.’ He taught for one term at Pittsfield, Mass., ‘boarding around’ with the families of his pupils, in true American fashion, and easily suppressing, on one memorable26 occasion, the efforts of his larger scholars to inaugurate a rebellion by physical force.
I fancy that it was the reading of Richard Henry Dana’s ‘Two Years Before the Mast’ which revived the spirit of adventure in Melville’s breast. That book was published in 1840, and was at once talked of everywhere. Melville must have read it at the time, mindful of his own experience as a sailor. At any rate, he once more signed a ship’s articles, and on January 1, 1841, sailed from New Bedford harbour in the whaler Acushnet, bound for the Pacific Ocean and the sperm27 fishery. He has left very little direct information as to the events of this eighteen months’ cruise, although his whaling romance, ‘Moby Dick; or, the Whale,’ probably gives many pictures of life on board the Acushnet. In the present volume he confines himself to a general account of the captain’s bad treatment of the crew, and of his non-fulfilment of agreements. Under these considerations, Melville decided28 to abandon the vessel on reaching the Marquesas Islands; and the narrative29 of ‘Typee’ begins at this point. However, he always recognised the immense influence the voyage had had upon his career, and in regard to its results has said in ‘Moby Dick,’—
‘If I shall ever deserve any real repute in that small but high hushed world which I might not be unreasonably30 ambitious of; if hereafter I shall do anything that on the whole a man might rather have done than to have left undone31... then here I prospectively33 ascribe all the honour and the glory to whaling; for a whale-ship was my Yale College and my Harvard.’
The record, then, of Melville’s escape from the Dolly, otherwise the Acushnet, the sojourn35 of his companion Toby and himself in the Typee Valley on the island of Nukuheva, Toby’s mysterious disappearance36, and Melville’s own escape, is fully37 given in the succeeding pages; and rash indeed would he be who would enter into a descriptive contest with these inimitable pictures of aboriginal38 life in the ‘Happy Valley.’ So great an interest has always centred in the character of Toby, whose actual existence has been questioned, that I am glad to be able to declare him an authentic39 personage, by name Richard T. Greene. He was enabled to discover himself again to Mr. Melville through the publication of the present volume, and their acquaintance was renewed, lasting40 for quite a long period. I have seen his portrait,—a rare old daguerrotype,—and some of his letters to our author. One of his children was named for the latter, but Mr. Melville lost trace of him in recent years.
With the author’s rescue from what Dr. T. M. Coan has styled his ‘anxious paradise,’ ‘Typee’ ends, and its sequel, ‘Omoo,’ begins. Here, again, it seems wisest to leave the remaining adventures in the South Seas to the reader’s own discovery, simply stating that, after a sojourn at the Society Islands, Melville shipped for Honolulu. There he remained for four months, employed as a clerk. He joined the crew of the American frigate41 United States, which reached Boston, stopping on the way at one of the Peruvian ports, in October of 1844. Once more was a narrative of his experiences to be preserved in ‘White Jacket; or, the World in a Man-of-War.’ Thus, of Melville’s four most important books, three, ‘Typee,’ ‘Omoo,’ and ‘White-Jacket,’ are directly auto42 biographical, and ‘Moby Dick’ is partially43 so; while the less important ‘Redburn’ is between the two classes in this respect. Melville’s other prose works, as will be shown, were, with some exceptions, unsuccessful efforts at creative romance.
Whether our author entered on his whaling adventures in the South Seas with a determination to make them available for literary purposes, may never be certainly known. There was no such elaborate announcement or advance preparation as in some later cases. I am inclined to believe that the literary prospect32 was an after-thought, and that this insured a freshness and enthusiasm of style not otherwise to be attained44. Returning to his mother’s home at Lansingburg, Melville soon began the writing of ‘Typee,’ which was completed by the autumn of 1845. Shortly after this his older brother, Gansevoort Melville, sailed for England as secretary of legation to Ambassador McLane, and the manuscript was intrusted to Gansevoort for submission45 to John Murray. Its immediate46 acceptance and publication followed in 1846. ‘Typee’ was dedicated47 to Chief Justice Lemuel Shaw of Massachusetts, an old friendship between the author’s family and that of Justice Shaw having been renewed about this time. Mr. Melville became engaged to Miss Elizabeth Shaw, the only daughter of the Chief Justice, and their marriage followed on August 4, 1847, in Boston.
The wanderings of our nautical Othello were thus brought to a conclusion. Mr. and Mrs. Melville resided in New York City until 1850, when they purchased a farmhouse48 at Pittsfield, their farm adjoining that formerly49 owned by Mr. Melville’s uncle, which had been inherited by the latter’s son. The new place was named ‘Arrow Head,’ from the numerous Indian antiquities50 found in the neighbourhood. The house was so situated as to command an uninterrupted view of Greylock Mountain and the adjacent hills. Here Melville remained for thirteen years, occupied with his writing, and managing his farm. An article in Putnam’s Monthly entitled ‘I and My Chimney,’ another called ‘October Mountain,’ and the introduction to the ‘Piazza51 Tales,’ present faithful pictures of Arrow Head and its surroundings. In a letter to Nathaniel Hawthorne, given in ‘Nathaniel Hawthorne and His Wife,’ his daily life is set forth52. The letter is dated June 1, 1851.
‘Since you have been here I have been building some shanties53 of houses (connected with the old one), and likewise some shanties of chapters and essays. I have been ploughing and sowing and raising and printing and praying, and now begin to come out upon a less bristling54 time, and to enjoy the calm prospect of things from a fair piazza at the north of the old farmhouse here. Not entirely55 yet, though, am I without something to be urgent with. The ‘Whale’ is only half through the press; for, wearied with the long delays of the printers, and disgusted with the heat and dust of the Babylonish brick-kiln of New York, I came back to the country to feel the grass, and end the book reclining on it, if I may.’
Mr. Hawthorne, who was then living in the red cottage at Lenox, had a week at Arrow Head with his daughter Una the previous spring. It is recorded that the friends ‘spent most of the time in the barn, bathing in the early spring sunshine, which streamed through the open doors, and talking philosophy.’ According to Mr. J. E. A. Smith’s volume on the Berkshire Hills, these gentlemen, both reserved in nature, though near neighbours and often in the same company, were inclined to be shy of each other, partly, perhaps, through the knowledge that Melville had written a very appreciative56 review of ‘Mosses from an Old Manse’ for the New York Literary World, edited by their mutual57 friends, the Duyckincks. ‘But one day,’ writes Mr. Smith, ‘it chanced that when they were out on a picnic excursion, the two were compelled by a thundershower to take shelter in a narrow recess58 of the rocks of Monument Mountain. Two hours of this enforced intercourse59 settled the matter. They learned so much of each other’s character,... that the most intimate friendship for the future was inevitable60.’ A passage in Hawthorne’s ‘Wonder Book’ is noteworthy as describing the number of literary neighbours in Berkshire:—
‘For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here at this moment,’ said the student. ‘I would mount him forthwith, and gallop61 about the country within a circumference62 of a few miles, making literary calls on my brother authors. Dr. Dewey would be within ray reach, at the foot of the Taconic. In Stockbridge, yonder, is Mr. James [G. P. R. James], conspicuous63 to all the world on his mountain-pile of history and romance. Longfellow, I believe, is not yet at the Oxbow, else the winged horse would neigh at him. But here in Lenox I should find our most truthful64 novelist [Miss Sedgwick], who has made the scenery and life of Berkshire all her own. On the hither side of Pittsfield sits Herman Melville, shaping out the gigantic conception of his ‘White Whale,’ while the gigantic shadow of Greylock looms65 upon him from his study window. Another bound of my flying steed would bring me to the door of Holmes, whom I mention last, because Pegasus would certainly unseat me the next minute, and claim the poet as his rider.’
While at Pittsfield, Mr. Melville was induced to enter the lecture field. From 1857 to 1860 he filled many engagements in the lyceums, chiefly speaking of his adventures in the South Seas. He lectured in cities as widely apart as Montreal, Chicago, Baltimore, and San Francisco, sailing to the last-named place in 1860, by way of Cape34 Horn, on the Meteor, commanded, by his younger brother, Captain Thomas Melville, afterward11 governor of the ‘Sailor’s Snug66 Harbor’ at Staten Island, N.Y. Besides his voyage to San Francisco, he had, in 1849 and 1856, visited England, the Continent, and the Holy Land, partly to superintend the publication of English editions of his works, and partly for recreation.
A pronounced feature of Melville’s character was his unwillingness67 to speak of himself, his adventures, or his writings in conversation. He was, however, able to overcome this reluctance68 on the lecture platform. Our author’s tendency to philosophical69 discussion is strikingly set forth in a letter from Dr. Titus Munson Coan to the latter’s mother, written while a student at Williams College over thirty years ago, and fortunately preserved by her. Dr. Coan enjoyed the friendship and confidence of Mr. Melville during most of his residence in New York. The letter reads:—
‘I have made my first literary pilgrimage, a call upon Herman Melville, the renowned70 author of ‘Typee,’ etc. He lives in a spacious71 farmhouse about two miles from Pittsfield, a weary walk through the dust. But it as well repaid. I introduced myself as a Hawaiian-American, and soon found myself in full tide of talk, or rather of monologue72. But he would not repeat the experiences of which I had been reading with rapture73 in his books. In vain I sought to hear of Typee and those paradise islands, but he preferred to pour forth his philosophy and his theories of life. The shade of Aristotle arose like a cold mist between myself and Fayaway. We have quite enough of deep philosophy at Williams College, and I confess I was disappointed in this trend of the talk. But what a talk it was! Melville is transformed from a Marquesan to a gypsy student, the gypsy element still remaining strong within him. And this contradiction gives him the air of one who has suffered from opposition, both literary and social. With his liberal views, he is apparently75 considered by the good people of Pittsfield as little better than a cannibal or a ‘beach-comber.’ His attitude seemed to me something like that of Ishmael; but perhaps I judged hastily. I managed to draw him out very freely on everything but the Marquesas Islands, and when I left him he was in full tide of discourse76 on all things sacred and profane77. But he seems to put away the objective side of his life, and to shut himself up in this cold north as a cloistered78 thinker.’
I have been told by Dr. Coan that his father, the Rev9. Titus Coan, of the Hawaiian Islands, personally visited the Marquesas group, found the Typee Valley, and verified in all respects the statements made in ‘Typee.’ It is known that Mr. Melville from early manhood indulged deeply in philosophical studies, and his fondness for discussing such matters is pointed74 out by Hawthorne also, in the ‘English Note Books.’ This habit increased as he advanced in years, if possible.
The chief event of the residence in Pittsfield was the completion and publication of ‘Moby Dick; or, the Whale,’ in 1851. How many young men have been drawn79 to sea by this book is a question of interest. Meeting with Mr. Charles Henry Webb (‘John Paul’) the day after Mr. Melville’s death, I asked him if he were not familiar with that author’s writings. He replied that ‘Moby Dick’ was responsible for his three years of life before the mast when a lad, and added that while ‘gamming’ on board another vessel he had once fallen in with a member of the boat’s crew which rescued Melville from his friendly imprisonment80 among the Typees.
While at Pittsfield, besides his own family, Mr. Melville’s mother and sisters resided with him. As his four children grew up he found it necessary to obtain for them better facilities for study than the village school afforded; and so, several years after, the household was broken up, and he removed with his wife and children to the New York house that was afterwards his home. This house belonged to his brother Allan, and was exchanged for the estate at Pittsfield. In December, 1866, he was appointed by Mr. H. A. Smyth, a former travelling companion in Europe, a district officer in the New York Custom House. He held the position until 1886, preferring it to in-door clerical work, and then resigned, the duties becoming too arduous81 for his failing strength.
In addition to his philosophical studies, Mr. Melville was much interested in all matters relating to the fine arts, and devoted82 most of his leisure hours to the two subjects. A notable collection of etchings and engravings from the old masters was gradually made by him, those from Claude’s paintings being a specialty83. After he retired84 from the Custom House, his tall, stalwart figure could be seen almost daily tramping through the Fort George district or Central Park, his roving inclination85 leading him to obtain as much out-door life as possible. His evenings were spent at home with his books, his pictures, and his family, and usually with them alone; for, in spite of the melodramatic declarations of various English gentlemen, Melville’s seclusion86 in his latter years, and in fact throughout his life, was a matter of personal choice. More and more, as he grew older, he avoided every action on his part, and on the part of his family, that might tend to keep his name and writings before the public. A few friends felt at liberty to visit the recluse87, and were kindly88 welcomed, but he himself sought no one. His favorite companions were his grandchildren, with whom he delighted to pass his time, and his devoted wife, who was a constant assistant and adviser89 in his literary work, chiefly done at this period for his own amusement. To her he addressed his last little poem, the touching90 ‘Return of the Sire de Nesle.’ Various efforts were made by the New York literary colony to draw him from his retirement91, but without success. It has been suggested that he might have accepted a magazine editorship, but this is doubtful, as he could not bear business details or routine work of any sort. His brother Allan was a New York lawyer, and until his death, in 1872, managed Melville’s affairs with ability, particularly the literary accounts.
During these later years he took great pleasure in a friendly correspondence with Mr. W. Clark Russell. Mr. Russell had taken many occasions to mention Melville’s sea-tales, his interest in them, and his indebtedness to them. The latter felt impelled92 to write Mr. Russell in regard to one of his newly published novels, and received in answer the following letter:
July 21, 1886.
MY DEAR Mr. MELVILLE, Your letter has given me a very great and singular pleasure. Your delightful93 books carry the imagination into a maritime94 period so remote that, often as you have been in my mind, I could never satisfy myself that you were still amongst the living. I am glad, indeed, to learn from Mr. Toft that you are still hale and hearty95, and I do most heartily96 wish you many years yet of health and vigour97.
Your books I have in the American edition. I have ‘Typee, ‘Omoo,’ ‘Redburn,’ and that noble piece ‘Moby Dick.’ These are all I have been able to obtain. There have been many editions of your works in this country, particularly the lovely South Sea sketches98; but the editions are not equal to those of the American publishers. Your reputation here is very great. It is hard to meet a man whose opinion as a reader is worth leaving who does not speak of your works in such terms as he might hesitate to employ, with all his patriotism99, toward many renowned English writers.
Dana is, indeed, great. There is nothing in literature more remarkable100 than the impression produced by Dana’s portraiture101 of the homely102 inner life of a little brig’s forecastle.
I beg that you will accept my thanks for the kindly spirit in which you have read my books. I wish it were in my power to cross the Atlantic, for you assuredly would be the first whom it would be my happiness to visit.
The condition of my right hand obliges me to dictate103 this to my son; but painful as it is to me to hold a pen, I cannot suffer this letter to reach the hands of a man of so admirable genitis as Herman Melville without begging him to believe me to be, with my own hand, his most respectful and hearty admirer, W. Clark Russell.
It should be noted104 here that Melville’s increased reputation in England at the period of this letter was chiefly owing to a series of articles on his work written by Mr. Russell. I am sorry to say that few English papers made more than a passing reference to Melville’s death. The American press discussed his life and work in numerous and lengthy105 reviews. At the same time, there always has been a steady sale of his books in England, and some of them never have been out of print in that country since the publication of ‘Typee.’ One result of this friendship between the two authors was the dedication106 of new volumes to each other in highly complimentary107 terms—Mr. Melville’s ‘John Marr and Other Sailors,’ of which twenty-five copies only were printed, on the one hand, and Mr. Russell’s ‘An Ocean Tragedy,’ on the other, of which many thousand have been printed, not to mention unnumbered pirated copies.
Beside Hawthorne, Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, of American writers, specially108 knew and appreciated Herman Melville. Mr. Stoddard was connected with the New York dock department at the time of Mr. Melville’s appointment to a custom-house position, and they at once became acquainted. For a good many years, during the period in which our author remained in seclusion, much that appeared in print in America concerning Melville came from the pen of Mr. Stoddard. Nevertheless, the sailor author’s presence in New York was well known to the literary guild109. He was invited to join in all new movements, but as often felt obliged to excuse himself from doing so. The present writer lived for some time within a short distance of his house, but found no opportunity to meet him until it became necessary to obtain his portrait for an anthology in course of publication. The interview was brief, and the interviewer could not help feeling although treated with pleasant courtesy, that more important matters were in hand than the perpetuation110 of a romancer’s countenance111 to future generations; but a friendly family acquaintance grew up from the incident, and will remain an abiding112 memory.
Mr. Melville died at his home in New York City early on the morning of September 28, 1891. His serious illness had lasted a number of months, so that the end came as a release. True to his ruling passion, philosophy had claimed him to the last, a set of Schopenhauer’s works receiving his attention when able to study; but this was varied113 with readings in the ‘Mermaid Series’ of old plays, in which he took much pleasure. His library, in addition to numerous works on philosophy and the fine arts, was composed of standard books of all classes, including, of course, a proportion of nautical literature. Especially interesting are fifteen or twenty first editions of Hawthorne’s books inscribed114 to Mr. and Mrs. Melville by the author and his wife.
The immediate acceptance of ‘Typee’ by John Murray was followed by an arrangement with the London agent of an American publisher, for its simultaneous publication in the United States. I understand that Murray did not then publish fiction. At any rate, the book was accepted by him on the assurance of Gansevoort Melville that it contained nothing not actually experienced by his brother. Murray brought it out early in 1846, in his Colonial and Home Library, as ‘A Narrative of a Four Months’ Residence among the Natives of a Valley of the Marquesas Islands; or, a Peep at Polynesian Life,’ or, more briefly115, ‘Melville’s Marquesas Islands.’ It was issued in America with the author’s own title, ‘Typee,’ and in the outward shape of a work of fiction. Mr. Melville found himself famous at once. Many discussions were carried on as to the genuineness of the author’s name and the reality of the events portrayed116, but English and American critics alike recognised the book’s importance as a contribution to literature.
Melville, in a letter to Hawthorne, speaks of himself as having no development at all until his twenty-fifth year, the time of his return from the Pacific; but surely the process of development must have been well advanced to permit of so virile117 and artistic118 a creation as ‘Typee.’ While the narrative does not always run smoothly119, yet the style for the most part is graceful120 and alluring121, so that we pass from one scene of Pacific enchantment122 to another quite oblivious123 of the vast amount of descriptive detail which is being poured out upon us. It is the varying fortune of the hero which engrosses124 our attention. We follow his adventures with breathless interest, or luxuriate with him in the leafy bowers125 of the ‘Happy Valley,’ surrounded by joyous126 children of nature. When all is ended, we then for the first time realise that we know these people and their ways as if we too had dwelt among them.
I do not believe that ‘Typee’ will ever lose its position as a classic of American Literature. The pioneer in South Sea romance—for the mechanical descriptions of earlier voyagers are not worthy of comparison—this book has as yet met with no superior, even in French literature; nor has it met with a rival in any other language than the French. The character of ‘Fayaway,’ and, no less, William S. Mayo’s ‘Kaloolah,’ the enchanting127 dreams of many a youthful heart, will retain their charm; and this in spite of endless variations by modern explorers in the same domain128. A faint type of both characters may be found in the Surinam Yarico of Captain John Gabriel Stedman, whose ‘Narrative of a Five Years’ Expedition’ appeared in 1796.
‘Typee,’ as written, contained passages reflecting with considerable severity on the methods pursued by missionaries129 in the South Seas. The manuscript was printed in a complete form in England, and created much discussion on this account, Melville being accused of bitterness; but he asserted his lack of prejudice. The passages referred to were omitted in the first and all subsequent American editions. They have been restored in the present issue, which is complete save for a few paragraphs excluded by written direction of the author. I have, with the consent of his family, changed the long and cumbersome130 sub-title of the book, calling it a ‘Real-Romance of the South Seas,’ as best expressing its nature.
The success of his first volume encouraged Melville to proceed in his work, and ‘Omoo,’ the sequel to ‘Typee,’ appeared in England and America in 1847. Here we leave, for the most part, the dreamy pictures of island life, and find ourselves sharing the extremely realistic discomforts131 of a Sydney whaler in the early forties. The rebellious132 crew’s experiences in the Society Islands are quite as realistic as events on board ship and very entertaining, while the whimsical character, Dr. Long Ghost, next to Captain Ahab in ‘Moby Dick,’ is Melville’s most striking delineation133. The errors of the South Sea missions are pointed out with even more force than in ‘Typee,’ and it is a fact that both these books have ever since been of the greatest value to outgoing missionaries on account of the exact information contained in them with respect to the islanders.
Melville’s power in describing and investing with romance scenes and incidents witnessed and participated in by himself, and his frequent failure of success as an inventor of characters and situations, were early pointed out by his critics. More recently Mr. Henry S. Salt has drawn the same distinction very carefully in an excellent article contributed to the Scottish Art Review. In a prefatory note to ‘Mardi’ (1849), Melville declares that, as his former books have been received as romance instead of reality, he will now try his hand at pure fiction. ‘Mardi’ may be called a splendid failure. It must have been soon after the completion of ‘Omoo’ that Melville began to study the writings of Sir Thomas Browne. Heretofore our author’s style was rough in places, but marvellously simple and direct. ‘Mardi’ is burdened with an over-rich diction, which Melville never entirely outgrew134. The scene of this romance, which opens well, is laid in the South Seas, but everything soon becomes overdrawn135 and fantastical, and the thread of the story loses itself in a mystical allegory.
‘Redburn,’ already mentioned, succeeded ‘Mardi’ in the same year, and was a partial return to the author’s earlier style. In ‘White-Jacket; or, the World in a Man-of-War’ (1850), Melville almost regained136 it. This book has no equal as a picture of life aboard a sailing man-of-war, the lights and shadows of naval137 existence being well contrasted.
With ‘Moby Dick; or, the Whale’ (1851), Melville reached the topmost notch138 of his fame. The book represents, to a certain extent, the conflict between the author’s earlier and later methods of composition, but the gigantic conception of the ‘White Whale,’ as Hawthorne expressed it, permeates139 the whole work, and lifts it bodily into the highest domain of romance. ‘Moby Dick’ contains an immense amount of information concerning the habits of the whale and the methods of its capture, but this is characteristically introduced in a way not to interfere140 with the narrative. The chapter entitled ‘Stubb Kills a Whale’ ranks with the choicest examples of descriptive literature.
‘Moby Dick’ appeared, and Melville enjoyed to the full the enhanced reputation it brought him. He did not, however, take warning from ‘Mardi,’ but allowed himself to plunge141 more deeply into the sea of philosophy and fantasy.
‘Pierre; or, the Ambiguities’ (1852) was published, and there ensued a long series of hostile criticisms, ending with a severe, though impartial142, article by Fitz-James O’Brien in Putnam’s Monthly. About the same time the whole stock of the author’s books was destroyed by fire, keeping them out of print at a critical moment; and public interest, which until then had been on the increase, gradually began to diminish.
After this Mr. Melville contributed several short stories to Putnam’s Monthly and Harper’s Magazine. Those in the former periodical were collected in a volume as Piazza Tales (1856); and of these ‘Benito Cereno’ and ‘The Bell Tower’ are equal to his best previous efforts.
‘Israel Potter: His Fifty Years of Exile’ (1855), first printed as a serial143 in Putnam’s, is an historical romance of the American Revolution, based on the hero’s own account of his adventures, as given in a little volume picked up by Mr. Melville at a book-stall. The story is well told, but the book is hardly worthy of the author of ‘Typee.’ ‘The Confidence Man’ (1857), his last serious effort in prose fiction, does not seem to require criticism.
Mr. Melville’s pen had rested for nearly ten years, when it was again taken up to celebrate the events of the Civil War. ‘Battle Pieces and Aspects of the War’ appeared in 1866. Most of these poems originated, according to the author, in an impulse imparted by the fall of Richmond; but they have as subjects all the chief incidents of the struggle. The best of them are ‘The Stone Fleet,’ ‘In the Prison Pen,’ ‘The College Colonel,’ ‘The March to the Sea,’ ‘Running the Batteries,’ and ‘Sheridan at Cedar144 Creek145.’ Some of these had a wide circulation in the press, and were preserved in various anthologies. ‘Clarel, a Poem and Pilgrimage in the Holy Land’ (1876), is a long mystical poem requiring, as some one has said, a dictionary, a cyclopaedia, and a copy of the Bible for its elucidation146. In the two privately147 printed volumes, the arrangement of which occupied Mr. Melville during his last illness, there are several fine lyrics148. The titles of these books are, ‘John Marr and Other Sailors’ (1888), and ‘Timoleon’ (1891).
There is no question that Mr. Melville’s absorption in philosophical studies was quite as responsible as the failure of his later books for his cessation from literary productiveness. That he sometimes realised the situation will be seen by a passage in ‘Moby Dick’:—
‘Didn’t I tell you so?’ said Flask149. ‘Yes, you’ll soon see this right whale’s head hoisted151 up opposite that parmacetti’s.’
‘In good time Flask’s saying proved true. As before, the Pequod steeply leaned over towards the sperm whale’s head, now, by the counterpoise of both heads, she regained her own keel, though sorely strained, you may well believe. So, when on one side you hoist150 in Locke’s head, you go over that way; but now, on the other side, hoist in Kant’s and you come back again; but in very poor plight152. Thus, some minds forever keep trimming boat. Oh, ye foolish! throw all these thunderheads overboard, and then you will float right and light.’
Mr. Melville would have been more than mortal if he had been indifferent to his loss of popularity. Yet he seemed contented153 to preserve an entirely independent attitude, and to trust to the verdict of the future. The smallest amount of activity would have kept him before the public; but his reserve would not permit this. That reinstatement of his reputation cannot be doubted.
In the editing of this reissue of ‘Melville’s Works,’ I have been much indebted to the scholarly aid of Dr. Titus Munson Coan, whose familiarity with the languages of the Pacific has enabled me to harmonise the spelling of foreign words in ‘Typee’ and ‘Omoo,’ though without changing the phonetic154 method of printing adopted by Mr. Melville. Dr. Coan has also been most helpful with suggestions in other directions. Finally, the delicate fancy of La Fargehas supplemented the immortal155 pen-portrait of the Typee maiden156 with a speaking impersonation of her beauty.
New York, June, 1892.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
ancestry
|
|
| n.祖先，家世 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
patrician
|
|
| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
continental
|
|
| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
taxation
|
|
| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
disastrous
|
|
| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
imbibed
|
|
| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
twigs
|
|
| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
necessitated
|
|
| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
deftness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
nautical
|
|
| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
munificent
|
|
| adj.慷慨的，大方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sperm
|
|
| n.精子，精液 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
unreasonably
|
|
| adv. 不合理地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
undone
|
|
| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
prospectively
|
|
| adv.预期； 前瞻性； 潜在； 可能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
cape
|
|
| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sojourn
|
|
| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
aboriginal
|
|
| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
authentic
|
|
| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
frigate
|
|
| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
auto
|
|
| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
submission
|
|
| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
dedicated
|
|
| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
farmhouse
|
|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
antiquities
|
|
| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
piazza
|
|
| n.广场；走廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
shanties
|
|
| n.简陋的小木屋( shanty的名词复数 )；铁皮棚屋；船工号子；船歌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
bristling
|
|
| a.竖立的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
appreciative
|
|
| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
circumference
|
|
| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
truthful
|
|
| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
looms
|
|
| n.织布机( loom的名词复数 )v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的第三人称单数 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
snug
|
|
| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
unwillingness
|
|
| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
renowned
|
|
| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
monologue
|
|
| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
rapture
|
|
| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
cloistered
|
|
| adj.隐居的，躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
imprisonment
|
|
| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
arduous
|
|
| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
specialty
|
|
| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
seclusion
|
|
| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
recluse
|
|
| n.隐居者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
adviser
|
|
| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
maritime
|
|
| adj.海的，海事的，航海的，近海的，沿海的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
patriotism
|
|
| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
portraiture
|
|
| n.肖像画法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
dictate
|
|
| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
lengthy
|
|
| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
dedication
|
|
| n.奉献，献身，致力，题献，献辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
complimentary
|
|
| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
guild
|
|
| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
perpetuation
|
|
| n.永存，不朽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
abiding
|
|
| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
portrayed
|
|
| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
virile
|
|
| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
alluring
|
|
| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
enchantment
|
|
| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
oblivious
|
|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
engrosses
|
|
| v.使全神贯注( engross的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
125
bowers
|
|
| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
joyous
|
|
| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
enchanting
|
|
| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
missionaries
|
|
| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
cumbersome
|
|
| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
discomforts
|
|
| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
rebellious
|
|
| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
delineation
|
|
| n.记述；描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
outgrew
|
|
| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去式 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
overdrawn
|
|
| 透支( overdraw的过去分词 )； (overdraw的过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
naval
|
|
| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
notch
|
|
| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
permeates
|
|
| 弥漫( permeate的第三人称单数 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
impartial
|
|
| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
serial
|
|
| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
cedar
|
|
| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
creek
|
|
| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
elucidation
|
|
| n.说明，阐明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
lyrics
|
|
| n.歌词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
hoist
|
|
| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
hoisted
|
|
| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
plight
|
|
| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
phonetic
|
|
| adj.语言的，语言上的，表示语音的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |