Melville and the Sublime in Moby-Dick

Author(s): Barbara Glenn

Source: American Literature, Vol. 48, No. 2 (May, 1976), pp. 165-182
Published by: Duke University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2925070
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 Melville and the Sublime in Moby-Dick
BARBARA GLENN
Stanford University

THE SUBLIME to the romancersof the nineteenth

WAS ESSENTIAL
century, and Melville'suse of the sublimefollowedon his con-
ceptionof Moby-Dickas a romance.Moreover,the terriblequest
ofAhab and thePequod forthegreatwhitewhale,MobyDick, may
be identified withthe quest forthe sublimethatin the nineteenth
century had becomeinextricably entangledwitha religionof nature
and a seculartheodicyenunciatedby the mostinfluential of Mel-
ville's contemporaries.Melville's depictionof that sublimequest
in Moby-Dick, informed bya moretraditional theodicythathe found
in earlierwriters,is a judgmentand a rejectionof the dominant
philosophy ofhistime.
Samuel Monk, in his studyof the sublime,remarksthatby the
end of the eighteenthcentury"the sublimeresemblesa veryfull
treasure boxin whichcan be foundall theparaphernalia of romantic
writers."'While EdmundBurke'sA PhilosophicalEnquiryintothe
Originof ourIdeas of theSublimeand Beautifulwas by no means
the only sourceand backgroundforMelville'suse of the sublime,
it was much the mostinfluential and comprehensive statement to
emergefromthe eighteenth-century occupationwith the sublime.
We do know thatMelvillewas familiarwithBurke; a copyof the
Enquiry was in his personallibrary.2Burke's exhaustivecatalog
of "what thingstheyare that cause in us the affections of the
sublimeand beautiful"3 is duplicatedto an astoundingdegreein
thecourseofthePequod'svoyage.
Burke definestwo separateand distinctrealmsof the sublime
and the beautiful.Terroris the rulingprincipleof the sublime:
"Whateveris fittedin any sort to excitethe ideas of pain, and
1 Samuel H. Monk, The Sublime (Ann Arbor, Mich., I960), p. I40. I follow throughout
Monk's discussion of the eighteenth-century sublime.
2
Merton M. Sealts, Jr., Melville's Reading (Madison, Wisc., I966), pp. 9, 44.
3 Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origins of our Ideas of the Sublime

and Beautiful, ed. J. T. Boulton (London, I958), p. 54. Subsequent referencesare to this
edition and are indicated in the text.

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 I66 American Literature

danger,. .. whatever is . . . terrible. . . is a sourceofthesublime"

(p. 39). Itis productive ofthestrongest emotions themindis capable
offeeling. The sublimeis associated withsolitude-"death itselfis
scarcely an ideaofmoreterror" (p. 43)-and withthemostextreme
passionsand sensory experiences. The beautiful turnson pleasure,
andisassociated withsociety, withloveandthesocialaffections, with
themilderpassions and sensory experiences. The powerofthesub-
limeis superior to thepowerof thebeautiful, and thebeautiful
occursonlyin theabsenceofsublimity. Burkesays,"Thereis some-
thingso over-ruling in whatever inspires us withawe,in all things
whichbelongeverso remotely toterror, thatnothing elsecanstand
in theirpresence. Therelie thequalitiesof beautyeitherdead or
inoperative" (p. 157). The realmsofthebeautiful and thesublime
arebothrealmsoffeeling, but finally the beautiful is associatedwith
thethingswhichbelongto theunderstanding, the sublimewith
whatcan onlybe felt.Beautyresidesin smallness; thesublime, in
greatness. Beautybelongsto the near; the sublime,to the far.
Beautyis associated withwhatis visible,and clear;the sublime,
withwhatis obscure, andbeyond oursight.It is totherealmofthe
sublimethatourstudiesshouldlead us,Burkesays,in a statement
whichanticipates thenineteenth-century advocates of a religionof
nature.In therealmof thesublime, we mayapproachthehighest
Beingandpower, theDeitywhose"first, mostnatural, andthemost
striking effect" isterror (p. 70).
In Moby-Dick, Burke'sdefinition ofthesublime andthebeautiful
is embodied withgreatfidelity and fullness in structure and rhet-
oricwhichreflect hisideasabout sublimity in language. The struc-
tureof Moby-Dick, the loose,episodic,digressive narrative of
romance, maybe seen,paradoxically, as tightly ordered withrespect
to Burke'sideas of sublimity. The juxtaposition of extremes of
passion,theabruptcessation of tensionand terror forbriefinter-
ludes,succeeded inexorably by therenewalof tensionand fear-
thesewererecommended by Burke.The conventional romance
narrator, is
Ishmael, equally the narrator recommended by Burke-
uncultivated, uncritical, admiring moreandaffected morewithwhat
he sees,expressing himself in a warmandpassionate manner. Mel-
ville'srhetoric also accordswithBurke'sprescription. In Burke's
ownwords,Melville's languageis not"thatverypolishedlanguage
. . .praised forsuperiorclearnessand perspicuity . . . generally

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 Melville and the Sublime [67

deficient It has "greatforceand energyof expression;

in strength."
. . .it is hammeredbytheCyclops,it is in partpolished,and partly
continues rough"(pp. 176,171) .
Melvillemakesuse of nearlyall thecausesof the sublimewhich
Burkeenumeratesin the Enquiry,embodyingthesecauses in the
veryexamplesBurkecites.Burke'sfirstexampleof sublimity, the
sea,is theworldin whichalmosttheentirenarrative of Moby-Dick
is set,and thatsea is sublimeaccording to Burke'sexactprescrip-
tions:a ruggedand brokensurface;an apparentinfinity in the
successionofitswaves;a vastextension, particularly in depth;and
mostofall,a vastdisorder, irresistibly
terrible, powerful andobscure.
The oceanin Moby-Dick is associatedwithsolitude and contrasted
withtheland,whichis associated withtheaffections of society:
"The portwouldfaingivesuccor;theportis pitiful; in theportis
safety, comfort,hearthstone, supper,warmblankets, friends,all
that'skindto ourmortalities. But . . . thatship. . . seeksall the
lashedsea'slandlessness. . . in landlessnessaloneresides thehighest
truth, indefinite
shoreless, as God-so, better is it to perishin that
howlinginfinite,thanbe ingloriously dasheduponthelee,evenif
thatweresafety!"Ishmaelspeaksof thesea as "an everlasting
terra
incognita. . . a foeto manwhois an aliento it. . . . No mercy,
no powerbutitsowncontrols it.Pantingand snorting likea mad
oceanoverruns
battlesteedthathaslostitsrider,themasterless the
globe."Almostimmediately it to theverdantland, the
he contrasts
"green,gentle,and most docile earth" (LVIII, 235-236). Burke con-
traststhesea to a levelplain,whichin prospect"maybe as extensive
as a prospectof the ocean; but can it ever fillthe mind with any
thingso greatas the ocean itself?"(pp. 57-58). Melvillealso con-
traststhesea to a plain,invokingtheassociatedideas of thesublime
and beautiful:"Were this world an endlessplain . . . then were
therepromisein the voyage"insteadof terror(LII, 204). It is by
jumpinginto the sea fromthe boat of his fellowsthatPip experi-
ences an "intolerableand awful lonesomeness."Therein he "saw
God's footupon thetreadleof theloom"; thereinhe passedbeyond
therealmof theunderstanding, neverto return(XCIII, 347).
On a sea whichis entirely therealmof the sublime,the Pequod
4Herman Melville, Moby-Dick, ed. Harrison Hayford and Hershel Parker (New York,
I967), p. 97. Subsequent referencesare to this edition and are indicated in the text,preceded
by chapternumbers,for example, (XXIII, 97).

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i68 American Literature

and hersailorsare contained and isolated,"lostin its unshored,

harborless immensities" (XXXII, ii6). Whalersare "isolatoes."
Amongsailorstheyare"themostdirectly brought intocontact with
whatever is appallinglyastonishing in the sea" (XLI, I56). The
creaturesoftheseadisplaytheinfinite division ofthingsthatBurke
citesas sublime. Regarded,Melvillesays,"with emotions unspeak-
ablyunsocialand repelling," theyincitetheterror whichBurke
always associates withthesublime (LVIII, 235).
Amongall creatures, Burkecitesleviathan as sublime,and Mel-
villebringsthe fullmachinery of Burke'sprescriptions forsub-
limityto thedescription of whales.Accordingly, Ishmaelpraises
whalesas universal, eternal,a sourceof astonishment, awe, and
reverence, to all menin all times.Theydwellin solitude, in the
inaccessible,unspeakable obscurityof the depths of the sea. In
accordance withBurke'snotionsof sublimedepiction in painting,
leviathanis,toIshmael, "thatonecreature in theworldwhichmust
remainunpainted tothelast"(LV, 228). In an extraordinary series
of thirteen
digressive Ishmaeleulogizesthesublimewhale.
chapters,
He speaks firstof the head: "This aspect is sublime. . . . But in the
greatSpermWhale,thishighand mightygod-likedignityinherent
in thebrowis so immenselyamplified,thatin gazing on it,in that
fullfrontview,youfeeltheDeityand theotherdreadpowersmore
forciblythan in beholding any other object in living nature"
(LXXIX, 291-292). In trueBurkeanfashion,Ishmaelsays,"There
is the true
in which a carefuldisorderliness
are some enterprises
method. . . . The more I dive into this matter [the more] I am
transported" (LXXXII, 304). At theotherend-both of thewhale,
and of the long seriesof digressions-isa summationof sublimity
in hiseulogyofthewhale'stail: "Out ofthebottomless profoundities
thegigantictailseemsspasmodically snatchingat thehighestheaven.
So in dreams,have I seen majesticSatan thrusting forthhis tor-
mentedcolossal claw fromthe flameBaltic of Hell. . . . The more I
considerthis mightytail, the more do I deploremy inabilityto
expressit. . . . But if I know not even the tail of this whale, how
understand his head? muchmore,how comprehend his face,when
facehe hasnone?" (LXXXVI, 317-3I8).
Burkecitesexamplesfromarchitecture as sublime:the rotunda
and dome; the"grandisles"of old Gothiccathedrals(p. 75). This
for sublimityalso is involvedin the depictionof the
prescription

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 Melville and the Sublime I69

whale in Moby-Dick.The Pequod encountersa "grand armada"

of whales, "a great semicircle,embracingone half of the level
horizon."A whaleboatadvancesinto the herd,to finditselfsur-
rounded by "a living wall, . . . in the distracteddistance. . .
tumultsoftheouterconcentric podsof whales,
circles,. . . successive
or
eight ten in each, swiftlygoing round and round" (LXXXVII,
320,324). This is Burke'srotunda:a successionand uniformity of
parts,"whetherit be a buildingor a plantation," in which"youcan
no wherefixa boundary;turnwhichway youwill,thesame object
stillseemsto continue,and the imaginationhas no rest."Also in-
corporatedinto Melville'sdepictionis an immediatelyfollowing
referenceby Burke to Addison's analysisof the rotunda,"Mr.
Addison in the Spectatorsconcerningthe pleasuresof the imag-
ination,thinksit is,becausein therotundat one glanceyou see half
thebuilding"(pp. 74-75). In otherpassagesin Moby-Dick,thewhale
is likenedto the greatdome of St. Peter's;the whale's head, to a
rotunda.In severalof themostcuriousdigressions, theskeletonof a
whale is describedas a temple.The whale's ribs are likened to
Gothicarches;thevertebrae are "likethegreatknobbedblockson a
Gothicspire"(CII, CIII, 378).
Moby Dick himselfis, of course,the epitomeof the sublime
leviathan.Melville'sdepictionof thegreatwhitewhaleturnsexactly
on the "heightenedcircumstances" which Burke found in Job's
leviathan-his"pernicious"strength, "his freedom,and his setting
mankindat defiance"(p. 66). In all his appearances, he is sublime
in the highestdegree,a monarchand a god, powerfuland terrible
in his "unexampledintelligentmalignity"(XLI, 159). In Moby
Dick, the terrorsof the invisibleare added to the terrorsof the
visible.He is whitenesswrapped in darkness,like the Deity in
Milton'sdescription, whose sublimityis so admiringlyassertedby
Burke; he is "a magnet"which inexorablydraws Ahab and the
Pequod; a deityinvisible,knownand foundby"his infalliblewake"
(CXXXV, 460).
ChapterXLII, "The Whitenessof theWhale,"is a mostBurkean
enquiry into the terrorof whiteness.Melville states Ishmael's
enquiryin a formwhich duplicatesthe formof Burke'senquiry
intothehighestcausesof thesublime:What is "thiselusivequality
. . .which causes the thoughtof whiteness,when divorcedfrom
morekindlyassociations, and coupled with any objectterriblein

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 170 American Literature

itself,to heightenthatterrorto the furthest bounds?" (XLII, I64).

The causes of the terrorof whitenessthat Ishmael discoversare
Burke's.Whitenessin natureterrifies, Ishmael surmises,perhaps
byunnaturalcontrast, byitspresentation of extremes.
It is associated
withdeath,withghosts,withsolitude;"it shadowsforththe heart-
less voids and immensities of the universe,and thusstabsus from
behindwiththethoughtof annihilation"(XLII, I69). Whitenessis
spiritual,and clothestheobjectwithwhichit is coupledwithdivine-
ness-and that divineness,"thoughcommandingworship,at the
same time enforcesa certainnamelessterror"(XLII, i66). Ulti-
mately,theterrorofwhiteness residesin instinct,
"theinstinct of the
knowledgeof the demonismof the world" (XLII, I69). In a
passagemostsignificant to Melville'sformulation here,Burkesug-
geststhat "it would be absurd . . . to say that all thingsaffectus by
associationonly; sincesome thingsmusthave been originallyand
naturallyagreeableor disagreeable,fromwhich the othersderive
theirassociatedpowers"(pp. 130-131). This primallyterriblesub-
lime is invokedby Melville. WhitenessterrorizesIshmael as "a
dumbbrute"is terrorized, by an objectwhich"cannotrecallto him
anythingassociatedwiththe experienceof formerperils."He con-
tinues,"Though neitherknows where lie the namelessthingsof
whichthe mysticsigngivesforthsuch hints;yetwithme, as with
thecolt,somewherethosethingsmustexist.Thoughin manyof its
aspectsthisvisibleworldseemsformedin love,theinvisiblespheres
wereformedin fright"(XLII, I69). Here again is thedistinction of
two realms accordingto Burke's definitionof the sublime and
beautiful.Moreover,in his discussionof the terrorof the Deity,
Burkecites"the commonmaxim,primosin orbedeos fecittimor"
(p. 70), a citationwhichsuggestsMelville'sformulation. Burkeasso-
ciatesthe maximwith falsereligions(of which demonismwould
certainly be one), buthe states, nonetheless,
thatevenin truereligion
theidea ofGod and fearareinseparable.
Burke'sdefinition of darknessand obscurity as a cause of thesub-
limeis well known;his discussionof lightas a causeof thesublime
is less oftencited.He associatedbothlightand darknesswithsub-
limityas extremes,most affecting in theirintenseand unalloyed
states.The lightof the sun and the lightwhich emanatesfrom
Milton'sDeityare in effectverygreatspeciesof darkness:extreme
lightobliterates all objects(pp. 79ff.).Neitherlightnordarknessare

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 Melville and the Sublime I7I

colors,thoughall colorsdependon light,and blacknessis a partial

darkness(p. 147). It is in theseBurkeantermsthatwhitenessis
in theconclusionof Ishmael'senquiry,as "thevisible
characterized,
absence of color, . . . a colorless,all-colorof atheismfromwhich we
shrink."Ishmaelfinallyreferswhitenessto "the greatprincipleof
light,[which] foreverremainswhiteor colorlessin itself,and if
operatingwithoutmediumupon matter,would touch all objects
. . .with its own blank tinge . . . the monumental white shroud"
(XLII, i69-170).
In Moby-DickMelvilleusesnotonlyBurke'sprescriptions forthe
causesof thesublime,but also his discussionof theoperationof the
sublime.Ahab is possessedby hate,to Burkethemostextremeand
terribleof passions.Moreover,he is possessedby the objectof his
hate,"theinscrutable thing"at whichhe strikesin thewhitewhale
(XXXVI, I44). Melville'sdepictionof the passionof Ahab reflects
withgreatfidelity Burke'sdiscussionin theEnquiry:"The passion
causedbythegreatand sublimein nature,whenthosecausesoperate
mostpowerfully, is Astonishment; and astonishment is that state
ofthesoul,in whichall itsmotionsare suspended, withsomedegree
of horror.In thiscase the mindis so entirelyfilledwithits object,
thatit cannotentertainanyother,norbyconsequencereasonon that
objectwhichemploysit. Hence arisesthe greatpower of the sub-
lime,thatfarfrombeingproducedby them,it anticipatesour rea-
sonings,and hurriesus on by an irresistible force"(p. 57). It is
thusthatAhab is obsessedwiththesublimeleviathan,thusthathis
long hunt may be identifiedas a sublimequest. All his mind is
fixedon Moby Dick with a monomaniacalintensity, and he is
impelledwithirresistible purpose,his obsession
forceby his terrible
with the object of his hunt. He totallylacks "the low enjoying
power"whichis associatedwiththe beautiful(XXXVII, 147). He
worshipslightthatblindshim; his eyesare scorcheduntilhe can
seenothingbuthisobject.And finally, at thesightofthatobject,the
sightof Moby Dick at the end of the chase,he cannotsee at all
(CXXXV, 467). His own wordson the last day of the chase place
him exactlyin thecontextof Burke'shighestsublime:"Ahab never
thinks;he onlyfeels,feels,feels"(CXXXV, 460).
Ahab is himselfa sublimefigure, a darkand terribleold man who
"standsalone among the millionsof the peopled earth,nor gods
nor men his neighbors!"(CXXXIII, 452). The "larger,darker,

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172 American Literature

deeper part" of Ahab dominatesMelville'scharacterization, and

"indeed,as touchingall Ahab'sdeeperpart,every revelation
partook
moreof significant darknessthanof explanatory light"(CVI, 386).
He is captain,describedin termsof thepowerof royalty, the"dread
majesty"of commandthatBurkecitesas sublime(p. 67). Burke
notesthatthe mind alwaysclaimsto itselfsomepartof the things
it contemplates(pp. 50-51), andso it is tothemostextreme degree
with Ahab. Beforethe doubloonthat he has nailed to the mast,
Ahab muses,"mountaintops and towers,and all othergrand and
loftythings. . . all are Ahab" (XCIX, 359). He is a hurricane,a
volcano,even a rayof the lightthatobsessesand destroys him. He
himselffinallywith the infinitedepthand heightof sea
identifies
and sky: "Nor whitewhale,nor man, nor fiend,can so much as
graze old Ahab in his own properand inaccessiblebeing.Can any
lead touchyonderfloor,any mastscrapeyonderroof?" (CXXXIV,
458).
The sublimepassionof Ahab dominatesthe entirecrew of the
Pequod. He would "haveshockedintothemthesamefieryemotion
. . .of his own magneticlife."He holds"his magnetat Starbuck's
brain"; Starbucksays,helplessin the grip of the sublime,"the
ineffable thinghas tiedme to him; towsme witha cable I have no
knifeto cut" (XXXVI, 146; XXXVIII, 148). Earlier,Ahab has
overwhelmedStarbuckwith a passionatespeech.In an aside, he
recognizeshis power:"Somethingshotfrommydilatednostrils, he
has inhaledit in his lungs.Starbucknow is mine; cannotoppose
me now" (XXXVI, I44). In the EnquiryBurke discussesexactly
sucha phenomenonas theoperationof thesublime.A speakercalls
to his aid "thosemodesof speechthatmarka strongand livelyfeel-
ing in himself.Then, by the contagionof our passions,we catch
a firealreadykindledin another"(p. 175). Burke calls thisphe-
nomenon,this "ineffablething,"sympathy,and it is thus that
Ishmaelidentifies it: "A wild,mystical,sympatheticalfeelingwas in
me; Ahab's quenchlessfeudseemedmine" (XLI, I55).
There is beautyin the worldof Moby-Dickas well as sublimity,
interludesin whichthe beautifulseeminglyholds sway,providing
thebriefcessationsof tensionand fearthatBurkerecommends-as
in Melville'sfirstdescriptionof thePacific(CXI), and his depiction
of the"soothingscenes,howevertemporary" of theland-likefishing
waters(CXIV). But the beautifulis deceptiveand withoutpower

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 Melville and the Sublime I73

against the sublime.The "seductivegod" of the Pacific is the

ambiguouspagan Pan; the "sugarymuskof the Bashee isles" that
Ahab "unthinkingly snuffed"has no effecton his terriblepurpose
(CXI, 400). Describingthe fishery, Ishmaelpointedlyremindsthe
readerthat "beholdingthe tranquilbeautyand brilliancyof the
ocean's skin, one forgetsthe tiger heart that pants beneathit;
and would not willinglyremember, thatthisvelvetpaw but con-
cealsa remorseless fang"(CXIV, 405). "The Symphony"(CXXXII)
is a lastinterlude,a last momentary cessationof terrorin the long
voyage,and a terrifying demonstration of Burke's assertionthat
thepowerof the sublimeis superiorto the powerof the beautiful.
As Ahab leans overthe side of thePequod, seekingstillto "pierce
theprofundity" abouthim,"thelovelyaromasin thatenchantedair
did at lastseemto dispel,fora moment,thecankerousthingin his
soul" (CXXXII, 443). He feelsBurke'saffections of the beautiful
precisely in thoseobjectsthatBurkecites:the humanface,theeye;
the nearnessof his fellowman, and the affections of society(pp.
ii3ff.). "Close! stand close to me, Starbuck!let me look into a
humaneye; it is betterthanto gaze intosea or sky; betterthan to
gaze upon God. By thegreenland; by thebrighthearth-stone! this
is the magicglass,man; I see my wifeand my child in thineeye"
(CXXXII, 444). Starbuckpleads fora returnto the land, to Nan-
tucket,buttheappealof beautyis overwhelmed bythepowerof the
sublime."But Ahab's glancewas averted;like a blightedfruittree
he shook,and cast his last,cinderedapple to the soil. 'What is it,
whatnameless, inscrutable,
unearthly thingis it . . . commandsme;
thatagainstall naturallovingsand longings,I so keep pushingand
crowding,and jammiingmyselfon all the time?'" (CXXXII, 444-
445). Even the detailof the cinderedapple followsan exampleof
sublimity citedby Burke (p. 85). Ahab's wordsreflectthe passage
fromtheEnquiryquotedabove; it is thepowerof Burke'ssublime
thatcommandshim.
Burkeis exhaustive in his catalogingof "thosethingswhichcause
in us the affections of the sublimeand beautiful,"extendinghis
Enquiryeven to the sublimeand beautifulin smell and tasteand
touch.In Moby-Dick his prescriptions forsublimity in odor appear
in thebitterstenches, thewild and muskyperfumes associatedwith
the whale. In the interludesof the beautiful,the mild and lovely
odorsof theland oftenfigure.The mostcuriousof theseinterludes

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174 American Literature

turnson Burke'sdiscussionof sweetness,

"thebeautifulof thetaste,"
givingpleasurebecauseof its smoothness and softness,
like thatof
oil:
If you have triedhow smoothglobularbodies,as themarbleswithwhich
boys amuse themselves,have affectedthe touch when they are rolled
backwardand forwardand overone another,youwill easilyconceivehow
sweetness . . . affects;a single globe . . . is nothing near so pleasant to
thetouchas severalglobes,wherethehand gentlyrisesto one and fallsto
another;and thispleasureis greatlyincreasedif theglobesare in motion,
and slidingover one another;for this softvariety[which occurswhen
theglobesof sweetnessare dissolved,mostpreferably in oil] preventsthat
weariness,which the uniformdispositionof the severalglobes would
otherwiseproduce.(pp. I52-I53)
In ChapterXCIV of Moby-Dick,Ishmaeldescribessqueezingthe
spermofthewhale,an oily,lump-filled
liquid:
It was our businessto squeeze theselumpsback into fluid.A sweetand
unctuous duty! . . . as I bathed by hands among those soft,gentle
globules . . . as they richlybroke to my fingers,and discharged all their
opulence,like fullyripe grapestheirwine; as I snuffedup that uncon-
taminated aroma, . . . I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that in-
expressible sperm, I washed my hands and heart of it . . . and I found
myselfunwittinglysqueezing my co-laborers'hands in it, mistaking
theirhands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding,affectionate,
lovingfeelingdid thisavocationbeget.(XCIV, 348)
friendly,
The beautiful, in Burke'sdefinition,is associatedwithlove and the
socialaffections.
Ishmael'sdisquisitionon thesqueezingof thesperm
is a disquisition
on thebeautifulin Burke'sown terms,accordingto
Burke'sown method.The resultis a reductioad absurdumof the
Enquiryitself.
While Burke'sconcernin the Enquirywas the neoclassicalcon-
cern with method,with literarydepiction,he soughtthe sublime
notprimarily in worksof literaturebutin nature.As Burke'seditor,
J.T. Boulton,pointsout,thesublimebecomes,withBurke,a mode
of experiencesoughtfar beyondliterature(p. xlvii). As such,the
sublimeis not onlymethod,but subjectmatteras well forMelville
in Moby-Dick.
The quest for the sublimein naturebecame a passionateoccu-
pation,a cultif not a religion,in the late eighteenthcentury.The

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 Melville and the Sublime 175

lateeighteenth centurysoughtto experiencethesublimeforitsown

sake. But the experienceof the sublimehad been,in Burke,asso-
ciatedwiththeDeity,and in thenineteenth century theexperienceof
thesublimebecameinextricably entangledwitha religionof nature.
The questforthesublimein naturebecamethe questfora God, a
supremeBeing whose essencepervadedthe naturaluniverse.The
concernof the nineteenth-century advocatesof the quest for the
sublime,different as theymightseem fromtheirneoclassicalpre-
is also withmethod-not,in thiscase,a methodof depic-
decessors,
tion,but a methodby which man mightapprehendthe natural
universe,mightapproachthe highestBeing whose creationand
garmentthatuniverseis,and mightdo thisbyhisown powers.This
too followsBurke,who describes"the mind always claimingto
itselfsomepartof thedignityand importance of thethingsit con-
templates."That elevationofthemindadmitsmen,Burkesays,"into
the counselsof the Almighty"(pp. 50, 53). Wordsworth'swell-
knowndescription of thedescentfromSimplonPass in The Prelude
an
is exemplary expression
of thesublimequest;also in The Prelude
Wordsworth expressesthe optimistictheodicywhich informedthe
quest.He makesuse of the Burkeanantithesis of the sublimeand
beautiful,but,contraryto Burke,it is "by love . . . thatall grandeur
comes."The "principleof pain" upon which the Burkeansublime
turnsis notdenied,butitsevilis denied.Evil existsonlyin ignorance
and misapprehension, and "the disciplineof fear"whichis the ex-
perienceof thesublimein naturedrawsthemindpastapparentevil
to love, to the apprehensionof the entirelygood supremeBeing.
Burke emphasizesthe contemplation of the sublimefroma safe
distance; he remarks,quite reasonably,that the immediateex-
perienceof the terriblesublimemay not be sublime,but merely
terrible(pp. 40, 46). For Burke,love belongsonlyto thebeautiful;
withbeauty,it lies dead in the presenceof the sublime.The nine-
teenth-century advocatesof the sublimequest resurrectlove, and
associateit withthehighestapprehension of thesublime.
The sublimequest for a benignDeity accessiblein naturewas
confidently advocatedby Carlyleand Emersonamong Melville's
contemporaries. Melvillewas well readin bothas he approachedthe
composition of Moby-Dick.5 He was readingearlierwritersas well,
5Merrell R. Davis and William H. Gilman, eds., The Letters of Herman Melville (New
Haven, Conn., I960), pp. 78-80; Sealts, pp. I9, 47-48.

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I76 AmericanLiterature

amongthemtheEnglishPlatonists, in whom he foundintimations

of a natural religion which anticipatedthe nineteenth-century
religionof nature.ErnestTuveson,discussingtheiridentification of
theDeitywiththeinfinite universeof thenew philosophy, remarks
that"the presentation of the universeas some kind of real image
(not the opposite) of the infiniteGod helped to promotea 'this
worldly'trendin men'sthinking.. . . The characteristic direction of
traditionalmysticalexperiencehad been upwards-froman evil or
defectivematerialworldto an ideal realm.. . . The tendency in the
laterRenaissance, on thecontrary, was to encouragetheknowledge
of corporealthingsas a spiritualgood; the movementof mystical
experiencecame to be outwards."6 In Moby-Dick,Ahab definesthe
directionof his questin preciselythoseterms:"Level by natureto
thisearth'shorizonare theglancesof man'seyes;notshotfromthe
crownofhishead" (CXVIII, 412).
This experienceoftheinfinite sublimein naturein theseventeenth
and eighteenthcenturieswas a reassurance,"the guaranteeof a
divineMind that sustainsorderin the frightful multiplicity and
impersonality of the cosmos."7 Althoughmany of Melville'scon-
temporaries persistedin thisbelief,thisoptimismof theseventeenth
and eighteenth centurieswas shakenforothers,includingMelville.
A worldof multiplicity and indifference is depictedin Moby-Dick
in the appallingvarietyof the creatures of the sea, in the universal
cannibalismof naturewhich obsessesIshmael,in the terribleen-
counterof Ahab with thatnature,the firstencounterwith Moby
Dick fromwhichhe emergesmaimedand obsessed.In Moby-Dick
theeffectof thesublimeis terrorwithoutdivinereassurance. Ahab's
definitionofhisquestis a desperately pessimisticversionof themore
prevalentnineteenth-century optimisticquest for the Deity in
nature.Cruellytaughtby nature's"disciplineof fear" to which
Wordsworthrefersso trustingly, he would, by his own powers,
"strikethroughthe mask,"the visible,unreasoningmask, to the
"unknown but still reasoning . . . unscrutable thing" (XXXVI,
144).
6 Ernest Tuveson, "Space, Deity, and the Natural Sublime," Modern Language Quarterly,

XII (March, I95I), 22-23. Tuveson notes also Milton's belief that matter is eternal and of
God's substance. He comments further,that "the new theories undoubtedly had much to do
with causing that absorption of the supernatural into the order of nature which was one of
the greatestrevolutionsin thoughtthat have ever occurred" (p. 31).
7 Tuveson,p. 31-

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 Melville and the Sublime '77
Melvillewas a criticalreaderof the optimisticadvocatesof the
sublimequest,even as he admiredthem.He saw in Emerson"a
gapingflaw . . . crackedrightacrossthebrow."8He referred to the
English PlatonistBrowne as a "crack'd archangel."9Moreover,
Melvillealso foundin theseEnglishPlatonists, and in Milton,whose
ParadiseLost he was readingwith great admirationduring this
same period,a traditional theodicywhichstoodin absolutecontra-
dictionto theoptimistic theodicyof Emersonand Carlyle.Accord-
ing to thisolder theodicy,man is separatedinfinitely fromGod;
his natureis defective, and he cannotbridgethatinfinitedistance
by his own efforts. Fully half of creationis given over to the
dominionof Satan,a dominionbrokenonlyby the intercession of
God in Christ.A seventeenth-century writerput the mattersuc-
cinctly,sayingthatif Christ'sdivinity is denied,"theworldis given
up tothegovernment oftheDevil."10Burkesimilarly emphasizesthe
importance of Christ,implyingthattheincarnationof the Deityis
the distinguishing attributeof the truereligion,which mustspeak
of loveas well as fear:"Beforethechristian religionhad, as it were,
humanizedtheidea of thedivinity, and broughtit somewhatnearer
to us, therewas verylittlesaid of thelove of God" (p. 70). Despite
Burke'sassertionelsewherethat the apprehensionof the sublime
admitsus into the counselsof the Almighty,he is clear here that
comprehension oftheloveofGod is notaccessiblein therealmofthe
sublime.In the earlierwriters, and in Burke,evil is veryreal,and
thereis much which is concernedwith the "demonismof the
world." Burkepraisesthe sublimeeffectof a numberof passages
whichhe quotesfromMilton'sParadiseLost, passageswhich con-
cernSatanand "theuniverseofdeath"whichis his dominion.Many
of his own specificexamplesof thesublimebelongto thedemonic.
In Moby-DickMelvillerestores tothenineteenth-century definition
of the sublimeBurke'sabsoluteemphasison the associationof the
sublimewithterror, and his equallyabsoluteexclusionof love. His
8 Davis and Gilman,p. 79. Melvillecontinues,"It was, the insinuation,
thathad he lived
in thosedayswhenthe worldwas made,he mighthave offered some valuablesuggestions."
It seemsverylikelyfromthisthatthe flawMelvillesaw was Emerson'sconfidencein the
god-like,perfectible powersof man. Melvillealso associatesEmersonwith Browne:"Lay it
down thathad not Sir Thomas Brownelived,Emersonwould not have mystified" (p. 78).
9 Sealts,p. I 6.
10Quoted by Helen P. Trimpi, "Melville's Use of Demonologyand Witchcraftin
Moby-Dick," Jotirnalof the History of Ideas, XXX (Oct.-Dec., I969), 544.

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I78 American Literature

ofthesublime
depiction questisinformedbythetraditionaltheodicy
thathe was reading.
thathe foundin theearlierwriters Contrary
to theconfident of someof his contemporaries,
assertions he sug-
geststhatthesublimequest,undertakenbyman'sown powersin
theworldofnature,a worldwithout is doomed.It endsin
Christ,
failure,in isolationin a universeof death.Melville'sstatementabout
the sublimequest is complex,his judgmentindirect.He associates
it withthe beliefsof demonicreligionon the one hand, and with
thetenetsof deismon theother-buthe goes no further thanasso-
ciation.His concern in Moby-Dick is not his
scholarly; method is
one of ironicjuxtapositionand suggestionratherthan exposition
and argument.He makesno attemptto establishhistoricalor intel-
lectualconnections betweenthedeistsand theirpantheistic successors,
nor any defense for "the hellfirein which the whole book is
broiled.55"
Melvilleassociatesthe sublimein Moby-Dickwith all the ma-
chineryof demonologyand witchcraft.12 of
The entireenterprise
the sublimehunt is consecratedto the Devil: Ahab tempersthe
barbsforhis harpoonin blood, howling,"Ego non baptizo te in
nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!" (CXIII, 404). The sea is
"infidel"; the land, "evangelical."At the end of the hunt, the
Pequod "like Satan" sinksto hell. Moby Dick, the grand god of
the whalers,is a "demon,"a "whitefiend,"possessingthe Devil's
attributesof "unexampled,intelligentmalignity." Ahab's sublimity
is wicked;he is possessedby a demonicsublime.He has a "wicked
name," the name of the idolatorking in the Old Testament;he
speaksof himselfas damned.Only the sublimeis associatedwith
evil and the demonicin Moby-Dick;the machineryof the Devil
is notablyabsentin the interludesof the beautiful.This follows
Burke,who associatesthe demonicwith the terrorof the sublime,
but not at all withthe pleasureof the beautiful.But Burke's"sub-
lime things"maybe eitherdemonicor divine;Melville'sdepiction
ofthesublimein Moby-Dickis exhaustively and exclusivelydemonic.
The beliefthatAhab and the crew of the Pequod voice in a
11 Referringto Moby-Dickin a letterto Hawthorne,Melvillesays that it is not yet
finished,"thoughthe hell-firein whichthe whole book is broiledmightnot unreasonably
have cookedit all ere this.This is the book's motto(the secretone),-Ego non baptisoin
nomine-butmakeout the restyourself."(Davis and Gilman,p. 133).
12 Trimpi,pp. 543-562. I followthroughout Trimpi'saccountof Melville'suse of demon-
ologyand witchcraft in Moby-Dick.

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 Melville and the Sublime '79

determined, mechanisticuniverseis found among the beliefsof

demonicreligion,and likewiseamong the tenetsof deism. The
"grandbelief"thatAhab and his crew share is called the oldest
religion,the ancientchurchof which all men are members.The
religionof the demonicwas oftenreferredto as the old religion;
so too, the deistsreferredto theirbeliefs.Voltaire,who is men-
tioned in Moby-Dick,assertedin Professionde foi des theistes,
"Notre religionest aussi ancienneque le monde." Elsewherehe
said, "Un deisteest de la religiond'Adam, de Seth,de Noe."13It
is notablein thisconnection thatnoneof thenumerousreferences to
Scripturein Moby-Dickare to theNew Testamentof Christianity;
all referencesare to the Old Testamentof Adam, Seth,and Noah.
The attributesof Moby Dick, the demonicgrand god of Ahab
and his crew,are the attributes of the god of the deists.The deist
god is thegod foundin all religions, especiallytheoldest.Likewise,
thewhale,Ishmaelsays,is thegod foundin all religions,especially
theoldest.MobyDick's whiteness is a "colorlessall colorof atheism,"
signalof "the heartlessvoids and immensities of the universe"-a
strikingand criticaldescription of the deistgod who is uniformi-
tarian,knownin nothingbutwhatis knownbyall men,and who is
exclusivelythefirstcause and Being of an infiniteuniverse.Ahab's
demonicbaptismalformulacites this God of creationonly. This
"secretmotto"of Moby Dick appearsin fullerformin a sketch
labeled "Devil as Quaker" which Melville jottedin a volume of
Shakespeare,probablyin i849.14 The portrayalof Ahab is con-
vincinglyof a devilas Quaker; he is impliedto be "anotherphase
ofQuaker . . . a Quakerwitha vengeance"(XVI, 71). The Pequod
sailsfromQuakerNantucket.Historically, theQuakersin America
weredivided:one party,mysticaland pietist;theother,rationalistic
and deist.BenjaminFranklinis one who atteststo therationalistic,
deisticbeliefswhichattracted someQuakers,and to thedominance
of thatpartyin Nantucket.15 Ahab may be identifiedas such a
deisticQuaker.The lightthatobsessesand destroys
rationalistic, him,
manifestfromwithin,is a rationalistic perversionof the Quaker
13 Quotedby A. 0. Lovejoy,"The Parallelof Deism and Classicism,"ModernPhilology,
XXIX (Feb., I932), 289.
14
Davis and Gilman,p. I33n.
15 WoodbridgeRiley,AmericanPhilosophy:The Early Schools (New York, n.d.), pp.
240-245.

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i8o American Literature

innerlight.Such a rationalistic religionis criticizedby Hawthorne

in "The GentleBoy,"a storywhichmightwell have suggestedto
Melvillethe name of his narrator, Ishmael,and perhapssomething
ofhisnature.In a passagethatMelvillemarkedin hiscopyof Twice-
Told Tales,attention is calledto "theoutlandishname"of thechild
victim,who replies,"Theycall me Ilbrahim."16
Melville'sassociationofdeismwiththenineteenth-century religion
of natureis not arbitrary.Though thenaturalreligionof the deists
was in starkcontrastto the religionof naturewhich succeededit
insofaras that earlierreligionmeant by nature primarilyand
essentiallyuniformity, Melville'scontemporaries inheritedthe su-
premeBeingthattheysoughtas well as certainoptimistic strandsof
theirtheodicyfromdeism;theirsublimequestfora Deityaccessible
in naturemay be tracedand relatedto deisticbelief.Moreover,as
A. P. Lovejoynotes,theuniversalapprovalthatwas thecriterion of
truereligionforthe deistswas also the criterion of greatliterature
for the neoclassicalcritics.He quotes a minor contemporary of
Burke: "'It is thisunitedapprobation, in personsof differentages
and ofvariouscharacters and languages,thatLonginushas madethe
truetestof the sublime.'"17 It is a deceptivelyshort,regressivestep
fromthetruereligionofthedeists,markedbyuniversalapprobation,
to a truereligionofthesublime,markedbyuniversalpower.Burke's
emphasison thecausesof thesublime,causeswhichhe findsin na-
ture,alreadypointsthatstepto the religionof naturein the nine-
teenthcentury.But forMelville,thatreligionis false,its sublime
questdoomed.
Perhaps the most quoted passage in Moby-Dick is found in
Ishmael'smeditation in ChapterXXXV, "The Masthead":
In thisenchanted mood,thyspiritebbsawaytowhenceit came;becomes
diffusedthroughtimeand space; like Wickliff'ssprinkledPantheistic
ashes,forming at lasta partofeveryshoretheroundglobeover.
Thereis no lifein thee,now,exceptthatrockinglifeimparted by a
gentlyrollingship;byher,borrowed fromthesea; bythesea,fromthe
inscrutabletidesofGod. Butwhilethissleep,thisdreamis on ye,move
yourfootor handan inch;slipyourholdat all; andyouridentitycomes
back in horror.Over Descartianvortices you hover.And perhaps,at
mid-day, in thefairest weather, shriekyoudrop
withone half-throttled
16 In Pursuitof Moby-Dick(Wallingford,
GerhardFriedrich, Penn., I958), p. 30.
17 Lovejoy,p. 295.

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 Melville and the Sublime I8I

throughthattransparentairintothesummer sea,no moretoriseforever.

Heeditwell,yePantheists! (p. 140)
In thispassageis Melville'sview of the consequencesof the sub-
lime, his demonstration of the inexorablefailureof the sublime
quest,even as it is definedin the most optimisticformulation of
his contemporaries. In a letterto Hawthorne,written"while the
Whale was in his flurry," Melvillecriticizesthepantheistic
philoso-
phy,the religionof naturehe foundin thosecontemporaries. He
refersto a quotationthathe almostcertainlyfoundin Carlyle:"I
came across this, 'Live in the all.' That is to say . . . get out of
yourself,spread and expand yourself,and bring to yourselfthe
tinglingsof lifethatare feltin theflowersand thewoods,thatare
feltin theplanetsSaturnand Venus,and theFixed Stars.What non-
sense! . . . This 'all' feeling, though, there is some truth in....
But what playsthe mischiefwiththe truthis thatmen will insist
upon theuniversalapplicationof a temporary feelingor opinion."'18
The pantheistic experience at themastheadis a temporary feeling.
Insistingon the constantand continuingtruthof that temporary
feelingas the sureapprehension of a supremeBeingin nature,the
advocatesof thesublimequestweremischievous indeed.The mind
mayparticipate fromtimeto time theinfiniteuniverse,but it is
in
containedin vulnerable,fallibleflesh.To forgetthis,to deny this,
is fatal. It is the Cartesiandilemma that Melville formulatesin
Ishmael'smeditation. Faced withtheabsolutechasmbetweenmind
and matterthatfollowedon his own denialof certitudeto the ma-
terialuniverse, Descartesformulated an elaboratetheoryof vortices,
ethericwhirlpoolsin which all naturewas held and ordered.He
meanthis theoryto secureand validatethe mind's apprehension
of the world outside itself,but its credibilityscarcelysurvived
itspublication.At the masthead,the mind,seekingto comprehend
the infinitenaturalworld,fallsthroughDescartianvorticeswhich
have no powerto hold it up, intothe terriblespace betweenwhich
Descarteshimself had likenedtodeepwaters.
In the closingparagraphsof Moby-Dick,Melville recapitulates
his earlierrejectionof the religionof naturein "The Masthead."
His depictionof the sinkingof the Pequod is his finalstatement
abouttheconsequences ofthesublimequest:
18 Davis and Gilman,pp. I 30-I 3 I.

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I82 American Literatur-e

And now, concentriccirclesseized the lone boat itself,and all its crew,
and each floatingoar, and everylance-pole,and spinning,animateand
inanimate,all round and round in one vortex,carriedthe smallestchip
ofthePequod outofsight.
But as the last whelmingsintermixingly poured themselvesover the
sunkenhead of the Indian at the mainmast,. . . a sky-hawk. . . now
chancedto intercept wingbetweenthehammerand the
itsbroadfluttering
wood; and simultaneouslyfeelingthat etherialthrill,the submerged
savagebeneath,in his death-grasp,kepthis hammerfrozenthere;and so
the bird of heaven,. . . his whole captiveformfolded in the flag of
Ahab,wentdown withhis ship,which,like Satan,would not sinkto hell
tillshehad draggeda livingpartofheavenalongwithher (CXXXV, 469).
To the nineteenth-century advocates of the sublime quest, the eagle
was the emblem of the human mind, soaringby its own powers into
the infinite. Earlier in the voyage of the Pequod, Ishmael had
invoked thatemblematiceagle, assertingthe spiritualpower of man:
"There is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down
into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become
invisible in the sunny spaces" (XCVI, 355). That eagle is the sky-
hawk here; its fate is Melville's final judgment on the quest for the
sublime.The Pequod with her fragilecargo of fleshis whirled down
to hell, as if fallen into a sublime Cartesian vortex,dragging down
with her theemblem of themind.

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